A Sense of Obligation

by Rose Fairbanks

  “Charles!” Bingley cringed as Caroline barged in. “I will never help you with another ball again! The headache! And wasted on such country people!”

  “I appreciate the trouble you are going through, but it will not be necessary to help again, for my wife will plan them.” He smiled at the thought.

  “Jane? No, no. Jane would never be capable of planning on this level. She is too kind; she would let all the servants have their way—which, I assure you, is to work as little as possible. If she could wrestle control from that mother of hers, that is.”

  “Mrs. Bennet does not strike me as the type to wish to plan such an event. She has a nervous constitution and would likely spend most of her time abed.” He looked at his sister, who clutched her chest as though she were having an attack herself.

  “Caro, are you saying that you can’t host a ball? Isn’t that on your accomplished ladiesh lish?” Mr. Hurst asked while slurring his words. Caroline began stuttering, and Mr. Hurst laughed.

  Taking a deep breath and smoothing her skirt, Caroline lifted her chin. “Mr. Darcy, I am certain you have compassion on my nerves. Imagine poor Georgiana hosting a ball for her brother in such primitive company.”

  “You are quite right, Miss Bingley. I would never ask it of her.”

  She stepped closer to him. “I suppose your wife would host them instead. Georgiana is soon to come out; you do not have much time to delay before selecting a wife of breeding and poise who can help ease your sister’s way.”

  “Yes, I have made my choice, and we will be announcing it soon.”

  Bingley watched as Caroline’s disappointment showed on her face. She truly had hoped Darcy could be convinced to offer for her. Lifting her slumped shoulders, she replied, “I suppose your aunt is very happy, then.”

  Darcy looked at his book while replying, and Bingley held his breath. “My family’s opinion is of no concern to you.”

  “It’s a shame she’s not a pretty wench like that Miss Elizabeth!” Mr. Hurst said between gulps, and Bingley thought his eyes would bulge out from his head.

  Caroline gave Darcy an evil-looking smile. “Oh, yes. No one could replace Miss Elizabeth’s fine eyes! Well, poor Miss de Bourgh. I am certain she will content herself just fine as the wife of Mr. Darcy, even if she is not the first in his admiration.”

  Darcy looked up from his book, and Bingley could tell Caroline was pleased to at last gain his attention. When he did not speak, Caroline continued her tease. “Well, at least Miss de Bourgh, as the daughter of Sir Lewis, must be more accomplished than Eliza. Certainly Lady Catherine would not allow her daughter to be only a great walker with wild eyes.”

  Darcy stood, and Bingley shivered at the cold glare emanating from his friend’s eyes.

  Towering over Caroline, he said, “I thank you to disparage neither my family nor my future wife, madam.”

  Caroline visibly swallowed. “I assure you, I meant no slight to Miss de Bourgh…”

  “I take Miss Elizabeth as my wife in less than a week’s time. As you know, her eyes enthralled me early in our acquaintance, and the affection she showed her sister by walking to Netherfield sealed my attachment. Perhaps you would like to congratulate yourself on pointing out all of her amiable qualities to me, and with your endless complaints about her connections, I realised I could easily see her worth despite them. I may not have considered her so thoroughly if not for your inspection.” Darcy gave Caroline a fake smile. “Your treatment of her exposed her character to the greatest advantage, and I find she is the most accomplished lady of my acquaintance. If you will excuse me, I will retire for the evening,” he said with a bow before exiting.

  “Ch-ch-charles!” Caroline said as she crumpled to the floor.

  Bingley came over to his weeping sister and offered his handkerchief. “I am sorry, Caro. I did always tell you that he would never offer for you.”

  “But what does she have that I do not?” his sister wailed.

  Bingley shook his head. “He loves her. Who can explain that?”

  “But I love him!” she exclaimed.

  “No, you love the thought of him. You love his estate, his name, and his wealth. You do not begin to comprehend the first thing about the man.”

  “And Eliza Bennet does?” she spat as she began to stand.

  Uncertain how to answer, he avoided the question. “Come, Caroline. At least now you need not worry about Jane having insufficient connections. Nor do you have to worry about killing yourself to impress Darcy with this ball. You ought to rest.”

  She quietly nodded and left the room. Mr. Hurst seemed to have missed the entire thing and snored on the sofa. Louisa was still meeting with the housekeeper. Bingley returned to his outpost at the window and sighed. He needed Jane. He needed her calmness and her good sense. Considering how quickly Darcy was allowed to marry Elizabeth, instead of weeks of waiting, a plan formed in Bingley’s mind.

  *****

  Elizabeth sat in a chair embroidering a new handkerchief and looking out her window, sighed. It was the fourth day of rain. The Netherfield ball was on the morrow and her wedding— which she was still astonished to think about—in only five days. There was so much rain that walking to Meryton was impossible and visits from certain Netherfield gentlemen even more so. The entire household was cross and at odds with one another. Mr. Bennet could not be persuaded to leave his book room for anything but to endure a meal and to slumber. Six women in one house with no outside amusement for four days was a dangerous thing, and something he had learned to avoid at all costs.

  Elizabeth was, in fact, hiding from her family. The one consolation to be had for Darcy’s inability to visit for the duration of the rains was that he had not witnessed her mother’s wedding-preparation antics. Of course, Mrs. Bennet behaved worse than Elizabeth expected, for the rain prevented her from going out to brag and shop. Instead of going herself, everything was retrieved by proxy. Elizabeth smiled wryly and wondered if the Netherfield inhabitants fared any better with the Bingley sisters preparing for tomorrow’s ball. She imagined Mr. Hurst becoming quite friendly with a bottle of port, Darcy hiding in the library or billiards room, and even the amiable Mr. Bingley becoming vexed by his sisters.

  At first, Elizabeth resented the underhanded arrangement Darcy and her father had come to in declaring the wedding date without consulting her. One week’s time! Whoever heard of such a thing? And the man actually had purchased a special licence during his stay in London. Her father explained Darcy’s statement regarding the quick marriage. Mr. Bennet agreed it was prudent, and Elizabeth could not help but blush at his look of reprimand. Darcy also claimed it was necessary due to his commitments in London and Pemberley in December. Her mother, fearing Darcy would simply cry off if he could not have his way, drowned out all her protestations. However, after an hour or two of her mother’s flutterings, Elizabeth privately admitted to a certain amount of sense—and relief!—in not prolonging the engagement and the wedding planning. Undoubtedly, the desire for peace was her father’s motivation for allowing Darcy to have his way on the wedding date. In truth, she could hardly blame either of them. There was no time for wedding clothes, however, and that made her mother exceedingly cross.

  But every cry of despair was followed by happy exclamations for Elizabeth’s match to such a wealthy gentleman. Jane’s engagement would be a more normal length, which consoled their mother. Mrs. Bennet could indulge in that wedding’s preparations to her heart’s delight. Still, Elizabeth would have liked to have been involved in the decision and to have voiced her displeasure over the entire affair to her betrothed, whom she had not seen since this accursed rain started.

  Mr. Collins’ behaviour throughout was most unusual. Elizabeth had not noticed his response to the news of her engagement. However, the next morning at breakfast, Mr. Collins claimed the engagement could not be true. Upon Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet’s insistence, he was undeniably shocked, disbelieving, and agitated.

  Elizabeth had taken to not
paying her cousin any mind and only noticed there was something murmured about Collins thinking Darcy engaged to Anne de Bourgh. Receiving assurances from Mr. Bennet that Darcy brought a marriage settlement and had a special licence in hand, Mr. Collins reluctantly appeared to accept the betrothal but ceased trying to ingratiate himself with the Bennets. In fact, he spent more time in his room, as though convinced Lady Catherine would materialise in Longbourn’s drawing room at any moment and berate him for daring to socialise with his hosts.

  Earlier in the day, he had mistakenly perceived a break in the rain and most unwisely walked to Meryton to post a letter that could not wait until the morrow. The break was momentary, and the steady downpour resumed before he had so much as reached the edge of Longbourn’s paddock. Mr. Collins continued to Meryton regardless. He now rested in his room, and Elizabeth suspected it would not be long before he succumbed to the chill that was taking hold even as he returned.

  Yet another person was convinced of a prior engagement. This was another subject Elizabeth desperately wished she could discuss with Darcy. She was not overly concerned there was any truth to the claims. Darcy would never offer for her if his honour were bound elsewhere.

  Wickham had quickly proved an unreliable cad, between his attempts at taking liberties—in plain view of her family!—and claiming Darcy cheated him of a valuable living.

  Mr. Collins was simply ridiculous, and there was little sense in a single thing he said on any topic. Elizabeth certainly knew how gossip spread, how a determined mother might claim a gentleman for her daughter without that man ever knowing, as her mother claimed Mr. Bingley before even laying eyes on him!

  Still, Elizabeth conceded her vanity needed the reassurance of hearing Darcy deny the engagement with Miss de Bourgh. She was his cousin and the heiress to a grand estate—more truly his equal in circumstance and rank. Darcy had said he did not desire those things in a marriage, but it was difficult to believe any attachment he developed in the last six weeks was a fair exchange. Elizabeth did not doubt him, even though society would not understand his attachment. She also wondered how many expected the engagement between Darcy and his cousin, as it seemed Bingley had interrupted Mr. Collins from alluding to it during one of his earlier visits.

  At dinner the previous Thursday, Darcy’s eyes scarcely left her. The gaze she once believed was disapproving she quickly discerned was quite the opposite. She could not profess to understand his mind in the least, but the look in his eye had seemed so much more than mere happiness at their betrothal, nor was it simple admiration. It was very similar to his look that evening in the Netherfield library as he stroked her hands. His eyes were so deep she thought she would drown in them, and his gaze made her feel warm, as if marked, branded as his. She could not cease blushing at the thought, but was secretly pleased by his obvious passion. Despite her annoyance at matters at home and the abrupt wedding date, she was endlessly intrigued by the new sensations Fitzwilliam Darcy provoked in her with only a look.

  Tomorrow we dance. Elizabeth shivered at the thought, so distracted from her embroidery that she pushed the needle through the fabric vigorously, stabbing her finger. She was forever doing so, and although it did not hurt, she bled easily. She hastily jerked her hand away before soiling the clean cloth. She fumbled to find her handkerchief. She detested the taste of blood, and although it might be natural for others to staunch the flow with their mouth, she preferred to hold her hand tightly until she was able to find a cloth.

  By the time one was located, the droplet of blood had grown large and created a smear on the white linen of her handkerchief. She continually soiled handkerchiefs due to needlework injury, thus forever needing to sew new ones, an endless cycle. She laughed to herself. What will William think of me when he sees I spend all my pin money on ready-made handkerchiefs so I can spare my poor, clumsy fingers?

  “Lizzzzzzzzzy!!” Lydia’s shrill voice broke her solitude. She exited her room, heaving a sigh, and joined her family below.

  *****

  “Jane?” Mary’s voice whispered to her sister before bed the night before the ball.

  “What is it, Mary? Why are you whispering?” Jane asked, curiosity building within her.

  “May I speak with you privately?”

  “Of course!” Jane pulled her sister into her room. “Lizzy is still with Papa, but I hope you will not ask me to keep a secret from her.”

  “No, of course not. You know I feel it is imprudent and immoral to keep secrets. I fear Lizzy would laugh at my concerns.”

  “What troubles you?” The sisters sat on the bed.

  “Now that Lizzy and you are to marry rich men, I had thought Mama would leave Mr. Collins be. Instead, she seems to think I should marry him.”

  Jane startled. “I had not realised…” She trailed off knowing full well how distracted she had been lately.

  Mary twisted her hands in her lap. “She should not fear the hedgerows now. I do not see why she believes any one of us needs to marry him.”

  Mary hung her head, and Jane’s heart went out to her. “It could be she thought you liked him. You do seem very suited to a clergyman.”

  Mary raised her head and looked Jane in the eye. “Perhaps, but I would want mutual regard to develop on both sides. Mr. Collins does not think of me in that way. He seems repulsed.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  “Oh, dearest!” Jane pulled Mary into an embrace. “I do not think so. If he came seeking a wife amongst us, it could be that he is embarrassed to find that the first two he paid attention to are now engaged elsewhere.”

  Mary thought for a moment. “He is a very proud man. He may no longer wish to align himself with us.” She tilted her head in thought before continuing, “That is not a very admirable trait in a preacher, is it?”

  Jane attempted to find a way to put it in the best light. “We must all have our share of weaknesses. It must mean he takes considerable care in his sermons and all that he does, then.”

  Mary shook her head. “No, I do not think he does. I think he desires the sort of flattery he uses on his patroness. Well, then, I will not repine failing to gain his notice.”

  “I should hope all my sisters marry for love. Now that Lizzy and I have made such wonderful matches, there is no worry for any of you.”

  Mary raised her eyebrows. “You think Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy will take care of us should our father die prematurely?”

  “Of course!” Jane cried, astonished at the idea of anything else.

  Mary threw her shoulders back with determination. “Then I will only marry for love.”

  “See that you do,” she said as Mary arose.

  As her third sister left the room, Elizabeth entered. Jane dared not voice her concerns to her closest sister, but she wondered if Elizabeth felt what she ought for Darcy. She enjoyed Bingley’s touch, craved it even in the days since she had last seen him due to the days of rain, but more than that, she trusted him with her life.

  Many thought Jane too kind; she knew even Elizabeth thought such of her. However, she did see her mother was too silly and vulgar. Years of her mother pushing her to suitors with no concern for her feelings and a father who felt more comfortable laughing at his family than correcting it impressed upon Jane that she could not always depend on those she loved.

  Bingley was young for a gentleman considering marriage, and although not quite two years past the age of majority, his parents died in his youth. From their private conversations, Jane knew that although Bingley had an easy temper, he took his concerns very seriously. His sisters previously had their uncles as legal guardians, but Bingley had always been very interested in their well-being. Since coming of age, he considered many locations for his estate but made no impulsive decision. When he felt he had insufficient experience and information, he turned to others, like his friend Darcy. His humbleness was to advantage. He never worried about it slighting his character to require assistance. His kindness ensured he would always treat her with respect and con
sideration and that she could come to him with any request without fear. He did not think so well of his own understanding, either, that he would not accept her opinion.

  Thinking the best of everyone came naturally to Jane, but she required no mental rearranging to consider Bingley the best of men, the only one she could love, and the keeper of all her happiness. She could hardly wait to see him again.

  * * *

  1 Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded is an epistolary novel by Samuel Richardson, published in 1740. A beautiful maidservant named Pamela Andrews deals with the attentions of her new master. Mr. Bountiful is at first enamoured with her looks and then infatuated with her innocence and intelligence. He does not propose marriage to her. Instead, he desires to install her as his mistress. At times, he abducts her and holds her captive in one of his estates, but she manages to escape multiple times. He also attempts to seduce her and rape her. She continually rejects him, but she also falls in love with him. Realising the only way to have her is to marry her, Pamela’s virtue is rewarded. It was a best-seller and widely read, but it also received criticism because of the topic.

  In fact, Richardson began writing the novel as a conduct book for young ladies. Essentially, women should be meek and virtuous despite the life men lead. Pamela’s stronger character alters the man’s behaviour.

  In this story, Darcy disagrees with this philosophy, requests that men are treated the same way, and suspects Elizabeth would agree.

  Chapter Seven

  Elizabeth dressed with more care than usual in preparation for Bingley’s ball. She had not seen Darcy in four days and anticipated not only dancing and conversing with him but also facing the public acknowledgement of their engagement. She walked into Netherfield’s drawing room, and after greeting her host and hostess, her eyes were immediately drawn to Darcy, standing at the back of the room. He is so handsome.