“Dear Charlotte,” Elizabeth said, “you are happy, are you not? I can be certain of that?”
“Entirely certain, Lizzy,” Charlotte said. “On better acquaintance, Mr. Claymore is all I would have wished for. In truth, I can hardly believe my good luck.”
Emma looked more cheerful than she had in days. She said, “I had almost begun to doubt my own matchmaking skills, but here is the proof.”
I cannot say otherwise, Emma,” Charlotte said. “If you had not made the comment that you did to my mother and father, it would be unlikely that I would have ever got to understand Mr. Claymore’s true nature. If I have one piece of advice to give to any lady, it would be to refrain from forming hasty opinions founded on what one hears at a ball.”
“You go near Hunsford?” Jane said. “Is not Hunsford where Mr. Collins’ parsonage is located?”
“I cannot recall,” Elizabeth said.
“I do not believe I was ever told,” Charlotte said. “But, goodness, Mr. Collins did tell me he lived in Kent. Might it be the same?”
“I am certain of it,” Jane said. “Mr. Collins resides in Hunsford.”
“Heavens,” Elizabeth said, “you might well have the opportunity of becoming acquainted with the great Lady Catherine. If there is anything to regret upon hearing your welcome news, it is perhaps that one circumstance—she may become over-interested in the placement of your closets.”
“I do not fear the lady, Lizzy,” Charlotte said laughing. “I am to be the mistress of Tomlin’s Gate, a good old house with twenty rooms and sufficient closets. I shall quake in front of nobody.”
Darcy and Bingley had ridden out to explore the grounds. Fitzwilliam had declined, noting that he spent far too much time on his horse as it was. Titan was happily grazing in a field and he would not disturb him.
At the top of a hill, Bingley reined in his horse. “Darcy,” he said, “do not you think there must be a way through this awkwardness with the Bennets?”
Darcy’s own awkwardness with the Bennets, or at least one particular Bennet, had been so profound that he did not see any easy way through it. However, he knew his friend did not reference that situation. He spoke of his interest in Jane Bennet and Elizabeth Bennet’s supposed interest in him. A supposed interest he had decided to dismiss.
“I cannot say if there is one particular way through,” Darcy said.
“It was all so uncomfortable at the Bennet’s dinner. I must ignore Jane Bennet so I do not hurt her sister, and then I must ignore Elizabeth Bennet so as not to give her encouragement.”
Darcy suppressed a smile. “It sounds as if you were entirely busy ignoring.”
“I was!” Bingley cried. “After dinner, I spent nearly all my time talking to Mr. Bennet about coveys.”
“You really are determined in your feelings for Jane Bennet?” Darcy asked.
“Even more so than I was,” Bingley said. “It was torturous to sit there with Mr. Bennet while Jane Bennet was so nearby, turning pages at the pianoforte. I did not dare approach, as she turned the pages for Miss Elizabeth Bennet!”
“Are you certain of Elizabeth Bennet’s feelings?” Darcy asked. He hoped Bingley would say he was unsure. Darcy was in no danger of losing Elizabeth Bennet to Bingley, his friend had not the slightest interest in her. Why, he did not know, but there it was. He’d fairly convinced himself that Miss Elizabeth Bennet did not have any special regard for Bingley. He’d observed her carefully and seen no sign of it and had concluded, rightly he thought, that Miss Woodhouse had either been mistaken or misspoke. He’d been comfortable in the idea until Bingley had once again broached the subject.
Bingley said, “I have not seen evidence directly. Only what Miss Woodhouse has told both of us.”
“I believe Miss Woodhouse to be wrong in her assumptions,” Darcy said. “Further, even if she were not wrong, you do no favors to anybody with your current mode of going on.”
“That is true!” Bingley said. “There is no reason I should not speak with Miss Jane Bennet. I will just be careful until I can measure if I cause any distress.”
Darcy nodded. He did not think Bingley likely to cause any distress at all to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. If only he could say the same for himself.
Chapter Eleven
The Mallory’s estate, Stag Hill, was reached by traveling a winding and steep lane past Mr. Mallory’s beloved fields, well-maintained paddocks and large, newly built stables. The house sat at the top of the hill it was named for, there long ago being a renowned old stag who liked to stand upon that slope and survey his kingdom. Now, it was Mr. Mallory surveying his kingdom with a satisfied eye. It was a grander house than any other in the neighborhood, Mr. Mallory using some of his profits to transform it into an imposing dark stone behemoth with stained-glass windows.
Many of Elizabeth’s acquaintance were envious of the residence, but she would never wish to live in such a place. The stained glass made it rather gloomy in her eyes, as even in summer the light was dimmed to reds and blues and one always had the feeling of being in church. She much preferred her own house, with its clear glaze and bright sunshine throughout.
The carriage ride up the long drive usually held little charm for Elizabeth, it only serving to remind her of Mr. Mallory’s many lectures on farming techniques and Miss Mallory’s resulting large dowry. This night, however, was full of charm.
Elizabeth rode in the Lucas’ carriage with Charlotte, Emma, Lady Lucas and Sir William. Mr. Claymore, being recently engaged to Charlotte, had been hastily included in the invitation to dine and rode alongside the carriage. More specifically, he rode alongside Charlotte’s window.
After Mr. Claymore had been satisfied that Charlotte did not suffer the cold of an open window, the couple discussed their various plans all the way to the house. That the rest of the inhabitants of the carriage did become exceedingly chilled had gone entirely unnoticed by the couple, though those chilled passengers had been too captivated by the scene to complain.
Elizabeth had perhaps been the most captivated. A pairing that had at one time seemed impossible, now seemed inevitable. Two people at first seeming far too different now appeared perfectly suited. What felicity was contained in their exchanges! What agreement there was between two such very different temperaments! But then, perhaps they were only outwardly different. At heart, she suspected them to be very much the same.
The carriage crested the top of the hill and halted on the drive. Mr. Mallory’s butler, a stern-faced fellow named Johns, stood at the door wearing his usual august visage, flanked by tall footmen in well-pressed and brushed uniforms. Johns showed them in and in his sonorous voice announced the arrival of Miss Bennet, Miss Woodhouse, Mr. Claymore and the Lucas party at the drawing room door.
While Elizabeth was not at all eager to encounter Mr. Darcy, she was well-pleased to see Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Darcy. Both approached her as she entered the drawing room. She curtsied and said, “Good evening, Colonel, Miss Darcy.”
“Miss Bennet,” Miss Darcy said, “we are both very glad to see you.”
“Indeed?” Elizabeth said. To the Colonel, she said playfully. “Does Miss Darcy often inform you of who you are glad to see, Colonel?”
Miss Darcy blushed charmingly. The Colonel said, “She does not, though in this case I would not correct my niece.”
Elizabeth smiled. She truly was happy to see them both. Though she had only met with Miss Darcy and the Colonel once, it felt to her a longer acquaintance.
She glanced around the room and was cheered to see Mr. Bingley speaking with Jane. Perhaps his strange behavior of late had been some sort of freak, as he was fairly beaming. He suddenly caught Elizabeth’s eye and his face fell as if he looked upon something exceedingly sad. Very odd, it seemed Mr. Bingley was a mercurial creature.
“If I dare speak for my cousin again,” Miss Darcy said, “we are both looking forward to seeing you at our ball.”
The Colonel nodded. “This will be Georgiana’s first
foray into the world of the ballroom,” he said. “We will see if her dancing master has earned his fees.”
“Truly your first ball, Miss Darcy?” Elizabeth said.
“I am not out yet,” Miss Darcy said, “but my brother and my cousin were convinced some time ago that I might attend a private ball, were it held by people we know well. There is nobody we know so well as Mr. Bingley.”
“And so we have been trapped into approval of the idea by our own words,” the Colonel said.
“There could be nowhere more comfortable to venture out to a ball than our little neighborhood,” Elizabeth said. “It will be the ideal place for your first experience and when the time comes, you will be fully prepared to boldly walk into any London ball.”
“I am much comforted by the idea, Miss Bennet,” Miss Darcy said. “Now you see, Fitzwilliam, this is the sort of sisterly advice you and Darcy do not excel in.”
The Colonel laughed heartily. “Indeed, I would make no claim to having any skill at all in the realm of sisterly advice.”
Elizabeth was enjoying the conversation exceedingly. Much to her consternation, Mr. Darcy approached and interrupted. “Miss Bennet,” he said in a serious tone.
“Mr. Darcy,” she replied.
“I wonder if I might show you an interesting collection of marble statues that Mr. Mallory has acquired from France?”
For a moment, Elizabeth stared at him blankly. Why should Mr. Darcy wish to show her anything?
“I thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said, “but I am afraid I am all too well-acquainted with the statues you speak of. Mr. Mallory has showed me them more than once.”
Mr. Darcy pressed his lips in a tight line and bowed. He turned and walked toward the recently mentioned statues. Miss Darcy suddenly donned a look of worry, curtsied, and followed her brother.
Colonel Fitzwilliam only smiled. “My cousin is not at all used to being declined, Miss Bennet. Georgiana goes to soothe those foreign feelings that have come upon him.”
“Why should his feelings need soothing?” Elizabeth asked, sincerely puzzled. “Certainly, not every lady he encounters wishes to be shown statues.”
“Perhaps not,” the Colonel said. “Though I believe he is used to having things his own way. I suspect that in London, should he hint he wishes to show a lady a thing, he is nearly run over by the lady’s eagerness.”
Elizabeth was tempted to say that money might guarantee admiration in town, but it did not do so in Hertfordshire. She prudently held her tongue.
“I have the distinct feeling, Miss Bennet,” the Colonel went on, “that my cousin has said something to offend you. My thoughts travel in that direction as he has been known to offend when he does not watch his words.”
“Perhaps, though,” Elizabeth said carefully, “it is best to know what another’s opinions are, whether they ought to have been said aloud or not.”
This prompted laughter from the Colonel. “Ah, yes, I see I am correct. I would only say, Miss Bennet, that he is a good man. He has a prickly exterior at times, but he is a good man.”
Mr. Darcy a good man? Elizabeth did not know by what measure the Colonel determined his cousin’s goodness, but she could not agree. Mr. Wickham would no doubt be present at this dinner if Mr. Darcy had not so unfairly banned him. And then of course, Mr. Wickham would have no need of a Mallory dinner at all if he’d received the living due him, but denied him by Mr. Darcy.
“In any case,” the Colonel said, “I do hope you will find it in your heart to forgive his transgressions, as I believe you to be his Marjorie Milleston.”
With that opaque statement, the Colonel bowed and walked off to talk to Emily Mallory.
Who on earth was Marjorie Milleston? Why should she be compared to that unknown lady? And further, why should Elizabeth Bennet be anything to Mr. Darcy?
It was clear to Elizabeth that the Colonel did not understand Mr. Darcy’s views of their little society. If he did, he would know that she was nothing at all to Mr. Darcy.
They were to be twenty-two at dinner. This was a rather small group for the Mallorys, as their dining table could accommodate fifty and they were known to take advantage of it.
When Elizabeth saw her placement at dinner, she had a great urge to stamp her foot, as she’d been in the habit of doing as a child. It was as if Emily Mallory had taken pains to make her miserable.
As the thought occurred to her, Elizabeth forced herself to pause. Whatever Emily was, she was not intentionally cruel. Emily would have no inkling that the very last person she should wish to dine with was Mr. Darcy. It was most likely meant to be felt as an honor, though she did not feel it so.
Elizabeth could at least be grateful that she had Colonel Forster on her other side. Emily herself had Mr. Darcy on her right and Colonel Fitzwilliam on her left. Elizabeth supposed she should just be grateful that she did not sit at the other end of the table, as Mr. Collins was seated next to Miss Bingley and she was certain that should not be a genial pairing. There was, however, one aspect of the seating to wholeheartedly cheer—Jane was seated next to Mr. Bingley, as she should have been all along.
It was a little worrying that Emma was on Mr. Bingley’s other side, but she could only hope that Emma would have finally given up her idea that Jane and Mr. Bingley were not suited. In any case, it was not as if Emma would share her opinions on the subject with Mr. Bingley.
Elizabeth sat, staring straight ahead, wondering how she should pass the time when Colonel Forster was turned from her. She would have a slight reprieve for some minutes, as she knew that Mr. Mallory would make a toast. Mr. Mallory always made a toast.
The host rose and the chatterings of the table died out.
“My dear guests,” Mr. Mallory said. “My wife and I are exceedingly gratified that you saw fit to grace our little table.”
Elizabeth suppressed a small sigh. Mr. Mallory liked to call his table little, though it was by far the largest in the neighborhood.
“We have been blessed beyond measure here in our small corner of the world, and it has allowed us to do right by our dear daughter Emily.”
Poor papa! Every time he dined in this house he must hear some reference to how well Mr. Mallory had done for his daughter. Mr. Bennet feigned amusement over it, as he said no other host had the gumption to toast himself, but Elizabeth could not believe it amused him so very much.
“And now,” Mr. Mallory went on, “we have the pleasure of welcoming so many new friends to our neighborhood—Colonel Forster and his regiment, Miss Woodhouse visiting Longbourn, and the inhabitants of Netherfield, Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. You are welcome all.”
Mr. Mallory sat down and there was a gentle ‘hear, hear’ as the table raised their glasses.
The footmen glided into the room on cue and made their way around the table with dishes. Elizabeth bit her lip as she watched both Mrs. Bennet and Lady Lucas cast a sharp eye on the peas.
On either side of Elizabeth, she could see she was fairly trapped. Colonel Forster spoke to Mrs. Mallory and, on Mr. Darcy’s other side, Emily Mallory had turned to speak to Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Mr. Darcy,” she answered.
“Please excuse the directness with which I would now speak, but I find it necessary. I would very much wish to begin again. I would wish to arrive to the neighborhood anew and conduct myself far differently.”
Elizabeth felt all the consternation of it. Why should he address anything with directness? Why could he not speak of the fine weather or the various dishes until the dinner was blessedly over?
As he would seem determined to speak of it, she said, “As I mentioned to your cousin, perhaps it is well to know another’s opinions, whether those opinions ought to have been spoken aloud or not.”
Mr. Darcy waved a footman away who sought to refill his glass. “They were stupid opinions to begin. They were opinions that had not been closely examined. They w
ere opinions I inherited from my father and took on as facts, though now that I do examine them, they appear somewhat ridiculous.”
Elizabeth was struck by Mr. Darcy’s speech. If his ridiculous opinions were all that she held against him, his words might go some way to amending her view of him. But that was not all she held against him.
“I’ve always prided myself on treating others fairly and I hope I’ve lived up to my own expectations,” Mr. Darcy said. “Though I find in this one opinion I did not, and I seek to rectify the matter.”
Mr. Darcy prided himself in treating others fairly? How could he dare say so when Mr. Wickham was not three miles from this very table, bereft of a living and banned from their society? It was outrageous.
“I realize that one conversation cannot erase my unfortunate beginning in this neighborhood, and so I wonder if I might call on Longbourn for further opportunities to do so?” Mr. Darcy asked. “If I might impose so far as to call on you?”
Mr. Darcy wished to call on her? Was she to pretend she did not know of his dealings with Mr. Wickham? It became apparent to Elizabeth that Mr. Darcy believed nobody knew of his dealings with Mr. Wickham. He believed he could go on as if he’d done nothing wrong. This man, with such high standards for himself and everybody else, was not at all prepared to own to his actions. That was not the behavior of a gentleman. She could not bear it.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said in a measured tone. “It is well known in the neighborhood that you denied Mr. Wickham a living and have banned him from appearing wherever you may be.”
“Denied him a living?” Mr. Darcy said in some surprise.
“Indeed,” Elizabeth said. “The living your father wished him to have. For all your influence, though, Mr. Wickham has not and will not be banned from Longbourn. And so you see, it would not do for you to call there as you would run the risk of encountering him.”
“This is what you think of me?” Mr. Darcy said, his tone incredulous. “I have never done such a thing in my life, nor would I ever. Dishonor my own father’s wishes? Never, Miss Bennet. Further, you will find, on further acquaintance, that George Wickham is a scoundrel. I cannot predict precisely how he will reveal himself, except to know that he always does. I have every reason to insist that I do not encounter him and you would be prudent to do the same.”
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