by Anne Morris
"We could all see his admiration for you, Jane," said Catherine.
"How could you not expect him to ask you to dance a second time?" cried Elizabeth. "You are so lovely, Jane, you deserve such attentions." Jane blushed, but said nothing.
Elizabeth continued, "He is an agreeable man, and I give you my permission to admire him. You have liked many a stupider person, or to not like those who are good for you. Mr. Parry was quite taken with you and yet you never considered his courtship."
"Lizzy!" cried Jane with a blush.
"Mr. Parry was almost ten years older," said Catherine with disdain.
"Jane, you are too apt, you know, to like people in general, and are so responsive and yet serene around everyone you meet. You never see a fault in anybody. I worry excessively about you making good choices when it comes to marriage. You would as like take a scoundrel as an angel and attempt to reform him," scolded Elizabeth but with no real force behind her words. She smiled at her two beautiful sisters who sat together on the carriage seat.
"Jane is all that is affectionate and good!" said Catherine, looking across with a frown at Elizabeth before she reached over to squeeze Jane's hand.
"I would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone, but I wish to always be welcoming," said Jane.
"I know you do and it is that which makes me wonder. With your good sense to be honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others, to be able to look past that and still always be sweet. When you meet that scoundrel we shall have to compare notes."
"Lizzy!" cried Catherine again in obvious defense of Jane. Elizabeth looked to Catherine.
"She will converse with a sinner or a saint and insist they are both on an equal footing and do it all with a calm temperament." Catherine nodded in agreement, and they looked at Jane who returned their gaze with her sweet, serene and angelic smile. "And what do you have to say of Mr. Bingley's sisters? Their manners are not equal to his. I do not believe they are not as pleased with our Meryton society as he is."
Catherine had looked like she was about to speak then leaned back resigned as Jane began to answer.
"They were a little reticent at first, to be sure," said Jane, "but they are pleasing women when you converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother and keep his house. No doubt we shall find her a charming neighbor."
"Her gown was exquisite," put in Catherine, "and the lace on Mrs. Hurst gown was quite fine." She may not be able to enjoy a discussion of the officers she had danced with, but Catherine, at least, was able to discuss fashion with her sisters until the carriage reached Longbourn.
Three
—
Mr. Darcy's Conundrum
The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. It was an informative visit. Mr. Bingley's two sisters were both rather good looking. They spoke, that first morning, of their background with a joking, yet bragging style, about their years at a seminary in Town—about the first-rate education it had provided them: about all their refinements.
"You have a governess, so we understand?" said Mrs. Hurst.
"Yes, she is with us still," answered Jane.
"Old, ugly, and temperamental, like our Miss Stone, no doubt. How we hated her," said Miss Bingley.
"Oh no," said Mary, "she is young and we adore her." Miss Bingley raised an eyebrow, but said nothing else.
"Were you always in London?" asked Elizabeth. "I mean, does your family originate from there?"
"No," said Mrs. Hurst. "The family originally is from a town in the north: Scarborough."
"We have been to Scarborough," said Catherine. "When we were little girls."
"You came, no doubt, for the waters," said Miss Bingley, "everybody does." She said it with a triumph and pride as though her family owned the entire town.
"How delightful," said Mrs. Hurst with the same sort of pride, and turned to Jane. "You must have enjoyed yourself."
"I believe it is the only time I ever admit to feeling peevish," said Jane. "Mary and I had to stay home. I was fourteen—there is something about that age and being discontented with one's life, is there not?" And she smiled sweetly. "It was when Miss Simnel came to us."
"So you have not always had her?" remarked Miss Bingley.
"No," answered Jane who missed a certain tone in Miss Bingley's voice, "Mamma and the younger girls went to Scarborough. Elizabeth went to London for a Season, but Mary and I were at home being taught deportment." In any other woman it would have been whiny or pretentious, but coming from Jane it came out as a wistful observation only.
"Miss Eliza, you have been to London and had a Season!" declared Miss Bingley, who turned her eyes then to Elizabeth.
"Yes," nodded Elizabeth.
"But you have not been back?" prompted the elegant lady.
"No," she answered.
"And has anyone else been to London for the Season?" continued Miss Bingley.
"None of us," said Catherine with a certain resentful tone to her voice, "I do not know why she received one, but we have not."
"That is probably because of Simon," said Mary. The two Netherfield ladies raised curious faces then to their guests.
"And who is Simon?" asked Miss Bingley.
"My son," answered Mrs. Bennet. "He was born right after Lizzy finished her Season, and we have not had any of the other girls back to London. Life has been too busy."
"There are four girls and then both Caroline and Charles in our family," said Mrs. Hurst. "I believe I understand." She paused to look at her sister. "We have one sister, Mrs. Peterson, Leticia, who still lives in Scarborough."
"That has been six or seven years ago, now," said Mrs. Bennet wistfully. "It has been quite a number of years since we have gotten away. I fear Mr. Bennet is not one for travel."
"Our uncle and aunt in the city, however, love to travel which has been of advantage to us," said Elizabeth. "They sometimes take one or two of us on a trip with them."
"An uncle and aunt in the city!" cried Miss Bingley. "Do they live in Town year round, or do they have an estate in the country as well?"
"Uncle Gardiner is in trade," said Jane.
"In trade, you say," said Mrs. Hurst with a sniff then she pasted a smile on her face. Elizabeth frowned at them. The fact that their own fortunes had been acquired by trade seemed to have been overlooked, but there was a certain condemnation in that sniff for the nature of the Bennet's relations.
"My brother does very well in his establishment; he is quite a wealthy man," said Mrs. Bennet.
"Ah," said Miss Bingley.
Their half hour came to a close, and the Bennet ladies left, all the while discussing the two fashionable women on the return journey to Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet was well pleased with her new neighbors, as elegant as they were, and as they would, in all likelihood, promote any interest between Mr. Bingley and Jane, for who could not see he had admired her! Especially after hearing how Charlotte Lucas overheard Mr. Bingley tell Mr. Robinson that Miss Jane Bennet was the prettiest girl in the Assembly room that night.
The two Netherfield ladies were less inclined to think well of the Longbourn ladies. Jane Bennet was a sweet girl and Mary Bennet, who seemed always to be with her, was a well-read and accomplished lady though her conversational skills were lacking. The eldest, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, they did not quite know what to make of. That she was intelligent and witty they had been assured, and ye,t she appeared to be motivated by practicality which they could not understand, as if common sense was something never considered or used in their daily lives.
• • •
Fitzwilliam Darcy was rich, intelligent, handsome, and clever. He knew that he was, that he embodied all of these qualities; he had a certain pride about it and it could always be seen if one looked for it beneath his usually cool exterior. He took pride in his family history, his family estate in Derbyshire, and the length of time that generations of Darcys had resided there. His manners and breeding were perfectly sound though his arrogance often gave of
fense—a point he was little concerned with, unless it was someone with whom he needed to maintain a relationship.
He had met Mr. Bingley just as the gentleman had left school and was feeling a little at sea, not knowing what he was to do with his time. Darcy, himself, found he was faced with his first Season in London without his usual close companions. And so, they had enjoyed the delights of the Season together, despite a seeming opposition of character. Bingley had an easy, ope,n and engaging nature which was such a contrast to the reserved way Darcy approached the world, but the two had been close friends ever since. Darcy appreciated his young friend's amiable nature, though he never found a reason to fault his own character.
Darcy sat with his friend, and with a glass in-hand, late into the night after they had left the Assembly hall—they retired so early in the country! The candlelight flickered across the two men's faces, one animated, and one reserved. The light was soft on those faces, and yet it darted around, moving shadows across Bingley's face as Darcy watched and listened to him speak about his new neighbors; Bingley had never met with pleasanter people or prettier girls in his life. Darcy looked at his drink then at his friend's, and reached to refill his own glass before nodding for Bingley to continue. Everybody, proclaimed Bingley, had been most kind and attentive to him.
Darcy considered his experiences of the evening. Absolutely no one of fashion had crossed his path; he looked down at the exquisite cut and fabric of his own coat sleeve as he paused in sipping his French brandy. Then he took another sip. Bingley was speaking about the prettiness of the girls again. Perhaps a few were pretty, but there were no beauties, none had any style or ardor. None were worth his time and attention. Darcy contemplated his glass again. Guessing the exact year of this French brandy was worth his time, and he considered that conundrum for a time while his young friend moved on to a Miss Jane Bennet and her angelic attributes. Bingley must always have an object d'amour wherever they stayed, so it seems he had set upon this 'Miss Jane' as his latest incarnation of feminine beauty.
Was there something about that Miss King? thought Darcy suddenly, his mind moving on to another issue. There was something about her and her uncle, something odd. He would have to discover it. It made Darcy think of ears and of Bingley's ears. He looked over at his friend and wondered what his mind was roiling around as Bingley had the effrontery to have ginger locks which were never fashionable. Was it the similar hair color that had him comparing Miss King and Bingley? Darcy shook his head and knew the answer would come to him, but not tonight, and he went back to the French brandy conundrum while Charles Bingley waxed on about his angel.
"She smiles too much," called out Darcy to his friend when he had heard a little too much praise, and he needed to rein the young pup in. The angel metaphor was at least new, so often they were 'flowers,' or if the lady was musical, they were 'songbirds,' which was such the wrong imagery as only male birds sang. But Charles must have his metaphors when describing his paramours. There was a glint in Bingley's eye as he looked a little sheepish, and drummed his fingers on his knees, then straightened his cuffs. The glint had nothing to do with brandy as Charles' glass sat untouched next to him, the waving candlelight dancing in it, and Darcy watched that light for a while as Bingley spoke of his hopes for this stay at Netherfield.
Darcy was not entirely sure why he had agreed to give up his usual fall plans and accompany Bingley to this part of the country, this dusty corner of England. For more than six years, he had enjoyed the shooting on his own estate, inviting friends and cousins to join him as the whim and circumstances warranted. It had often been a male-dominated time. He considered then that he rather enjoyed those weeks where not having to worry about the considerations of the ladies made for an easier and more relaxing time. Georgiana had often been at school, or he would send her to London to then join her, when the shooting was done, for Christmas.
He enjoyed time with his male cousins. After Darcy had left school those cousins had taken him under their wing and shown Darcy around London his first full Season, navigating all that the great city could afford a rich young gentleman, and had shown him how to avoid the match-making mamas.
Darcy thought again about this house and taking an estate—it was all new to Bingley though to Darcy he was his estate. This house Bingley had leased and this county were really too close to London, he thought. He and Bingley would simply be too tempted to flee from this stale atmosphere to the delights of the city, never to return. Darcy smiled. He could not think well of this county. The weather had been poor. There was nothing exciting or entertaining about this bit of countryside that could not be found elsewhere. The society was decidedly inferior. All facts.
He and Bingley had spent an enjoyable time together in Town these past two springs. Their summers had been at various house parties with friends, which had probably given Bingley the idea of having his own estate. To establish himself, so as to have a house party in late winter or summer though hopefully not to stop going to London in the spring and those delights it afforded. Darcy thought about the excellent hunting and sports to be had at Pemberley every fall, which he was missing as he listened to Bingley wax on about the society in Hertfordshire. Darcy wondered how long before he could convince Bingley to leave. There was nothing to keep his mind engaged here.
• • •
They were invited to four dinners in the next week—four! And Bingley felt inclined to accept them all, dragging him and his sisters and brother-in-law with them. Five was a difficult number to incorporate into any family setting, so all of the dinners included assorted other neighbors, or grew into fantastically large gatherings. Darcy began to think that Bingley rather liked all the focused attention as though he was property, some sort of bounty being fought over, especially if the household had unmarried daughters.
Darcy sighed at the obvious maneuvering of mothers, and even some of the fathers, who worked to get their particular daughter, or collection of daughters, on display before Bingley but, interestingly, not before Darcy. He managed to stave off all but the worst attentions, even if the result was that the residents in Meryton thought him reserved or even rude. Charles, however, seemed stuck with the preference he had made that first evening at the Assembly: the petite, golden-haired Miss Jane Bennet.
Darcy spent his first dinner observing Miss King. Her freckles quite put him off, but still, he watched her as she fluttered dark eyelashes at Bingley, eyelashes that were far too dark for a lady with her coloring and hence, suggested artifice. Her uncle watched her flirtations with Bingley with eagerness, and even happiness. Miss King did not bother to speak much to Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst which left both of Bingley's sisters with a dislike for the young lady. Her uncle, Mr. Harper, had invited Mrs. Hale and Mrs. Hale (the previous vicar's wife and mother), and the current vicar, Mr. Mead, all innocuous and boring guests in comparison to Miss King, who was then the center of attention. Darcy supposed uncles wished to marry off their nieces just as much as fathers did, but Darcy took exception when it meant he was stuck with such a trite evening of company.
He returned to his examination of her hair, and the comparison of the red with Bingley's. Miss King's hair could best be described as 'ginger,' it was not auburn as was Miss Bingley's, Mrs. Hurst's and Charles'. It at least avoided being that carroty orange that was so atrocious that one blinked at meeting a person so beheaded.
But it was not the color of the hair that had his mind whirling, and had done so since the Assembly, despite the similarity of hue. It was ears that had been bothering him, and Darcy made a study then, of ears. Mrs. Hale and Mrs. Hale had very different ones. The elder Mrs. Hale had a petite pair with small lobes; she wore her hair in a severe style that emphasized those ears, and a small pair of cheap drop-globe earrings of some uncertain stone swayed from them. The younger Mrs. Hale—though to say 'the widowed one' was nonsense as they both were widowed vicar's wives—affected to use curl papers for two curls came down to hide her ears, and the rather pendulous
earlobes at the bottom of them. She wore no earrings.
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst both had similar hairstyles as the younger Mrs. Hale, curls that hung before their ears, hiding them. Darcy went to sit next to Miss Bingley and conversed generally with her, all the while secretly observing her ears as much as he could. After ten minutes, Darcy determined that her ears stuck out somewhat from the sides of her head, and she used the curls to hide that fact. Mrs. Hurst's, he discovered, did the same. A short glance at his friend confirmed that Charles Bingley had ears that stuck out from his head. Nothing so much like handles on a pitcher, but now that he was making a point of looking for it, he noted it as a fact.
He turned back to observe Miss King and her uncle. Miss King had, apparently, hair that curls naturally as he could see that it rippled as it lay over her head rather than lying smoothly. Despite this fact, she did not wear curls over her ears which were small and uniform, unremarkable really, except that the tops of them were almost completely squared off and not rounded as most ears appeared to be. He looked at Mr. Harper and saw the same flat-topped ear.
Mr. Harper had brown hair, graying at the temples, and along the neckline. He must have been handsome in his youth, but his skin had aged; still, there was something about his eyes that spoke of his charm and appeal as a young man.
Darcy moved to sit with the elder Mrs. Hale, first inquiring after her health.
"I am hale and hearty!" she replied with twinkling eyes and a small laugh at her oft-repeated joke. "Only the bones give me trouble when the weather changes you know."
"Ah," he had no reply and did not much care. "Miss King," he began.
"Yes," she prompted with eagerness as she then suspected him of an undue interest in the redheaded young lady.
"She lives with Mr. Harper, who is her uncle?" he asked with as indifferent an air as he could, so as not to be the subject of too much gossip.
"Yes, came this past spring, after she finished school," the lady grinned; apparently she still had some teeth left.
