Elizabeth was certain of this because she knew that she, too, would do what she must. If asked, she would marry Mr. Collins.
*
Darcy looked up from The Times and considered the view from Netherfield’s breakfast parlor.
“The rain has stopped. There is even a bit of sun. Did not your steward mention a need for improvements on the estate? Shall we take a more extensive tour of the grounds?” he asked Bingley, who was dripping jam on his day-old Courier.
“I would value your opinion, Darcy. Still, I do not think today is the appropriate time.”
“Why ever not?”
“The mud!” interjected Miss Bingley, with a wrinkle of her nose. “Disgusting. You had best stay inside and play cards with us. Hurst, Louisa and I need a fourth, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy chose to ignore Miss Bingley. “One of the improvements,” he said to his friend, “has to do with the poor drainage of the western slope. The recent rainfall will give us the perfect opportunity to examine the embankment.”
“I worry,” Bingley began, his eyes darting between the ceiling and the door. “I worry for Miss Bennet.”
Darcy felt a mixture of amusement and annoyance. How could he have forgotten Netherfield’s most recent, and unexpected, guest? Darcy had not seen Miss Jane Bennet when she had arrived the day before, and he was, quite honestly, happy to put her—and all other Bennets—out of his thoughts.
After his odd encounter with Miss Elizabeth on the balcony, he had returned to Netherfield, eager to find a way of resolving the impending custody dispute over Georgiana. Indeed, he had even considered cutting short his stay with Bingley in order to return to London and meet with his solicitor.
Yet it was not in his nature to act on impulse. Instead, he reread Richard’s letter and remembered why he had been so pessimistic in the first place. To bring this issue to the courts would have a profound effect on so many: Richard, whose career in the military could be damaged; Richard’s sister, Sophia, who was soon to be presented at Court and was hoping to make a successful marriage; and most of all, Georgiana, whose dealings with Wickham would have to be exposed. Would damaging the reputation and happiness of his family be worth the satisfaction of having Georgiana in his custody? Yet, could he bear the idea that his sister would no longer be a part of his already lonely household?
There was a middle ground, a compromise that kept all of his family intact. After writing his solicitor and obtaining a copy of his father’s will, he knew exactly what that compromise was. His and Richard’s guardianship was provisional only while Darcy remained unmarried. Were he to take a wife, the Earl of Matlock and Lady Catherine would have no grounds for pressing suit. And he knew exactly whom he was expected to marry.
He found himself stuck between two impossible choices: a loveless marriage with Anne, which would satisfy Lady Catherine, whose real object was the union, not Georgiana’s welfare; or giving up Georgiana, which would satisfy nobody at all.
It was as if that evening on the balcony, with all of its promise, had never occurred. Miss Elizabeth Bennet seemed to feel the same; when he saw her at Lucas Lodge nearly a fortnight after the assembly, she had behaved almost flippantly toward him. The only hint of sadness came in a single glance, one that left him wondering how he had ever thought her eyes dull. He had been so startled by this realization that he had, without thinking, admitted his admiration of Miss Elizabeth’s “fine eyes” to Miss Bingley. While he had enjoyed the momentary discomfort such a remark caused her, he now had to deal with her unending derision of all things Bennet.
“Oh, you need not concern yourself on Miss Bennet’s account,” Miss Bingley was saying to her brother. “It is but a trifling cold. I must say,” she added with a smile that did not reach her eyes, “I was surprised to see her arrive on horseback in the rain. One would think that she would have called her carriage.”
“Perhaps it was not available,” Bingley said.
“Perhaps,” Miss Bingley conceded. “Then again, the Bennets are a family of limited resources. Perhaps they do not even own a carriage.”
She and Mrs. Hurst laughed at this idea, while Bingley glared at his empty teacup and Darcy wished for any distraction at all to quiet the sisters’ grating giggles.
“Excuse me.” With a bow, a footman appeared at the door. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet is here to see her sister, Sir.”
Darcy glanced up in alarm. He had not actually meant any distraction.
As he, Hurst, and Bingley rose to greet her, he told himself to focus on her obvious deficiencies: her hair was almost wild; the hem of her skirt was caked with mud; and her complexion was reddened by the wind. Knowing better now than to meet her eyes—for they were most definitely not a deficiency—he stared at some point on the wall behind her and said nothing beyond the required pleasantries as she explained that, yes, she had walked alone these three miles to Netherfield, and no, she did not mind the exercise, and please, could she see her sister immediately?
For all of their derision of the Bennets, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst could not overcome their training as hostesses. They assured Miss Elizabeth that they would personally escort her to Miss Bennet’s room and see that she had all that she needed.
“What a kind sister Miss Elizabeth is!” Bingley declared. “Now that she is here to care for Miss Bennet, I believe I should very much like to view that embankment you were discussing.”
Darcy blinked. “Embankment?”
“The western slope? The improvements my steward mentioned?” Bingley laughed. “Come, man, let us be on our way!”
Chapter Four
Before Elizabeth Bennet’s appearance at Netherfield, Darcy would never have believed it possible to find solace in Caroline Bingley.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy!” Miss Bingley was laughing appreciatively as they finished their dinner. “Your impression of Charles is absolutely perfect! Do you not agree, Louisa?”
Darcy tried to remain focused on the exchange between Miss Bingley and her sister, but he could not help glancing at the woman across from him. When she met his eyes, he knew exactly why he preferred Caroline Bingley to Elizabeth Bennet.
He could not deny that Miss Bingley’s obsequious tone annoyed him (he had not, after all, done a very good impression of Bingley); and he could not say that Miss Bingley benefited from a side-by-side comparison with Miss Elizabeth, who, lacking a fashionable dress and coiffure, still managed to outshine her (it must have been an effect of the candlelight).
Yet Miss Bingley had one important advantage over Miss Elizabeth: she was wholly unthreatening. Darcy was used to the Miss Bingleys of the world. He knew exactly what to say (nothing, if possible), how to behave (politely, with an edge of coolness), and what was expected of him (very little).
But Elizabeth Bennet—what did one say to a woman who raged against the impending death of her father when she thought no one was looking, and then, when faced with an audience, discussed Shakespeare? How did one behave around a young lady whose eyes somehow conveyed both woe and wit? What did this odd and startling woman expect of him now that her secret was also his?
“Should we call for the physician again?” Mr. Bingley asked Miss Elizabeth when his own sisters had finished laughing at him.
It was an abrupt change of subject, one that caused Miss Bingley to exchange an anxious glance with Mrs. Hurst, and Miss Elizabeth to smile indulgently at Mr. Bingley.
“You are very kind,” she replied. “At the moment, I do not think that it is necessary. But if you will excuse me, I will return to see how she fares.”
When she left the room, Darcy hoped she would also leave his thoughts. The sisters, however, made that quite impossible.
“What an ill-mannered girl!” Miss Bingley declared. “She has no conversation, no style, no taste, and certainly no beauty!”
“She has nothing, in short, to recommend her,” Mrs. Hurst agreed, “but being an excellent walker! I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild!
”
As the two sisters gleefully exchanged insults, Darcy could not help thinking how Miss Elizabeth had indeed looked almost wild—and how well that suited her.
“Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,” said Bingley, “but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice.”
“You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley, “and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition.”
Miss Bingley’s reference to Georgiana caused him a moment’s pain. His wishes for his sister meant very little now. Still, he managed to say what was expected of him: “Certainly not.”
Bingley and his sister continued to debate the merits of Miss Elizabeth, and Darcy wondered which Miss Bingley would find worse: a woman who walked three miles alone, or a young lady who had nearly eloped with a steward’s son.
“I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,” observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, “that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.”
“Not at all,” he replied, glad that he could be honest, even if Miss Bingley had no idea of the turbulence such honesty was causing him. “They were brightened by the exercise.”
This set down immediately quieted Miss Bingley.
Mrs. Hurst, sensing her sister’s misstep, tried to repair the damage by resuming their mockery of the Bennets. The sisters laughed heartily at the existence of uncles in trade (forgetting quite conveniently their own family’s connection to manufacturing).
“If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside,” cried Bingley, “it would not make them one jot less agreeable.”
“But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world,” replied Darcy with a rush of feeling. Bingley looked at him, astonished. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst smiled and nodded, certain that he was taking up their side against their brother. None of them could possibly know that he was speaking solely to himself.
*
“Please, Lizzy, do not stay on my account,” Jane said, her hoarse voice at odds with her sweet smile.
“Yes, Eliza,” Miss Bingley said, her smile not sweet at all, “you must join us for coffee and cards.”
Elizabeth had to admit to the generosity of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst in visiting with Jane all afternoon and then again after dinner. They did, in fact, display true friendliness when they were with Jane, but then Jane tended to bring out the best in almost everyone. Elizabeth was not foolish enough to believe that Miss Bingley sincerely wished her company.
Truth be told, Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to bundle Jane in blankets, order a carriage, and return home. On the night her family had received word of Jane’s cold, Elizabeth had experienced the worst nightmare of her life: she had seen herself, draped in black, standing at the uncovered graves of both her father and sister.
When Elizabeth had woken, drenched in sweat, heart racing, she had rushed to her father’s room, only to find him sleeping peacefully. The next morning, she had nearly run the three miles to Netherfield, paying no attention to the mud staining her petticoats or the wind undoing her coiffure. What she found should have soothed her: Jane, though uncomfortable, was in no danger of dying.
Still, she could not dispel the remnants of the panic that had gripped her the night before.
“Well, Eliza, will you join us or not?” Miss Bingley asked.
Elizabeth glanced at Jane, who was already half asleep. She did not want to sleep herself; she feared the reoccurrence of her dream. So, faced with the prospect of a nightmare and unwelcome company, she chose the lesser of two evils.
Upon entering the drawing room, she saw the party sitting down to a game of loo. Declining to join them, for she suspected they were playing high, she made her sister her excuse.
“I should return to Jane soon. I will amuse myself for the short time I can stay,” she replied, holding up the book she had brought with her just for this purpose.
Mr. Hurst gaped at her. “Do you mean to say that you prefer reading to cards?”
“Miss Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, “despises cards. She is a great reader and has no pleasure in anything else.”
“I deserve neither such praise nor such censure!” cried Elizabeth. “I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.”
“In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure,” said Mr. Bingley, “and I hope it will soon be increased by seeing her quite well.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You are welcome to peruse my collection of books, if one can call it such,” Bingley added with a rueful smile. “I wish it were larger for your benefit and my own credit, but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more books than I ever look into!”
Elizabeth smiled, thinking how good a man Bingley was. “I assure you, I am content with my own book.”
“And what,” Miss Bingley asked as Hurst dealt another round, “are you reading, Miss Eliza?”
Elizabeth frowned, annoyed at herself for bringing this of all texts into company as meddlesome as this.
But Miss Bingley had little interest in her response. “I, myself, recommend Shakespeare.”
Astonished, Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy.
He was smiling.
“Yes,” Miss Bingley continued, “I most definitely recommend Shakespeare. Why, Mr. Darcy, did I not see you reading one of Shakespeare’s plays the other day? Macbeth, I think it was?”
Elizabeth detected the faintest hint of red on Mr. Darcy’s cheeks.
“It is a fine play,” he said, meeting Elizabeth’s gaze.
Miss Bingley nodded. “I agree wholeheartedly!”
“I have always thought it a very strange play,” Elizabeth said.
“Strange?” Miss Bingley said. “Perhaps you do not fully understand it.”
“I would not claim to understand it fully myself,” said Mr. Darcy.
“No, neither would I!” said Miss Bingley.
“There are, I concede, a few good lines in it,” Elizabeth said with a smile of her own.
Mr. Darcy looked down at his cards. “It is a play full of feeling.”
Although she, too, should have looked away, she could not help but study him. When she had seen him at Lucas Lodge, he had appeared aloof, speaking no more than a few words to those outside his circle. His visage had been haughty, his bearing proud, and his attitude clearly disdainful toward the people of Meryton. Yet, here and now, she could not deny the warmth and understanding in his smile.
Too distracted to read—but desirous of thinking of something other than Mr. Darcy—Elizabeth put down her book and stationed her chair between Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst to watch the progress of the game.
“Caroline,” Mrs. Hurst said after they finished another round, “would you be so kind as to fetch Hurst’s spectacles? I believe he needs a bit of help seeing which card is trump!”
“Hmpf!” was Hurst’s response. “Not enough candles in this place, Bingley!”
In the process of obliging her sister, Miss Bingley disobliged Elizabeth, for next to Mr. Hurst’s spectacles was Elizabeth’s book.
“You never did tell us what you were reading,” Miss Bingley noted, picking up the book. Elizabeth felt her stomach sink as Miss Bingley scanned the title on the spine. “A Treatise on the Prevention and Cure of Diseases? What curious reading material for a lady!”
“You are a very good sister!” Bingley cried. “You must have been terribly worried about Miss Bennet to attempt such a book!”
Again, she met Mr. Darcy’s eyes—a bad habit, she decided, as she tried to read his expression in the growing darkness. She felt both alarmed and relieved that someone in the room understood her impolite interest in medicine.
“Yes, perhaps she means to cure her after this game of cards?” Miss Bingley said with an ill-concealed giggle.
&n
bsp; “Caroline!” Bingley admonished. “I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth. My sister likes to tease her friends, do you not, Caroline?”
“Oh, yes,” Miss Bingley said with an unpleasant smile. “I meant nothing by it.”
“And I took nothing from it,” Elizabeth replied. Had she been less vain, she would have felt nothing at the smile this comment produced from Mr. Darcy. As it was, she was quite vain indeed.
“Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?” asked Miss Bingley, turning the conversation to a topic Elizabeth could take no part in. “Will she be as tall as I am?”
Mr. Darcy put down his cards and looked away. For a long moment he said nothing, causing Miss Bingley to exchange a panicked glance with both her brother and sister.
“Is she not well?” Mr. Bingley finally asked. “Did you receive bad news?”
“What? No, she is well, thank you.” Mr. Darcy picked up his cards and studied them. “As for her height, she is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s height, or rather taller.”
“How I long to see her again!” Miss Bingley cried. “I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”
This speech, which Elizabeth supposed was designed to please Mr. Darcy, instead led him to throw down his cards yet again.
“Excuse me,” he said, standing abruptly. For a moment, Elizabeth thought he would leave the room. Instead, he went to the window and stared into the blackness.
Everyone at the table appeared amazed, not least of all Mr. Hurst, who wanted nothing more than another cup of brandy and an uninterrupted game of loo.
This Disconcerting Happiness: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 3
