Elizabeth Bennet's Impertinent Letter

by J P Christy

  I am very happy to see you again, Miss Bennet.” As an afterthought, he added, “And you, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Oh, Jane! Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet called as she approached from the house. “Kitty swore she saw a gentleman arrive on horseback, but he seems to have disappeared. Have you seen anyone?”

  Stepping away from the weeping beech tree that shielded him from view, Bingley bowed. “Mrs. Bennet. How are you?”

  Mrs. Bennet stared, her expression a bewildered frown. “Is it you, Mr. Bingley? How extraordinary! Of course, we had heard rumors from my sister Phillips about your returning.”

  “Allow me to apologize for my unpardonable behavior in leaving so abruptly last year, and I am eager to reacquaint myself with your charming family.”

  Mrs. Bennet stared at him, her mouth open as if she hoped to breathe in an understanding of his words. Elizabeth crossed to her mother and said, “Simply because a surprise is unanticipated—indeed, is this not the very definition of surprise?—it does not follow that the surprise is unwelcome. Don’t you agree, Mama?”

  “Yes! Indeed! Excuse me as I feel the unexpectedness of this moment!” she murmured.

  “Ah, but did you not say, Mrs. Bennet, I was welcome for dinner at any time and that I need not wait for an invitation?”

  He has come back for Jane! Mrs. Bennet told herself. With a smile, she said, “Your memory serves you well, sir. Come along, Lizzy, let us tell Cook there will be another for dinner.” When she headed for the house, Elizabeth looked at Jane, unsure whether to leave her alone with Bingley.

  Jane nodded. “We will be along shortly. Perhaps you could inform the rest of the family of Mr. Bingley’s return, so as to calm the exuberance with which he is likely to be greeted.”

  “What a good idea,” Elizabeth agreed. As she followed her mother, she said over her shoulder. “Welcome back to Longbourn, Mr. Bingley.” And as for Mr. Darcy, well, we shall see.

  Shyly, Bingley asked Jane, “Do you know why I asked your Uncle Phillips to oversee the reopening of Netherfield?”

  “No.”

  “I contacted him with a week’s notice, so that if you did not wish to see me, you would have time to, to .… “

  “Hide myself away somewhere in the county?”

  “Or escape to the home of your relatives in Cheapside.” He stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “I did not know you were in London all those months, else I would have visited you; I never would have gone to hide my misery in Derwent.”

  “But I called upon your sisters, and they returned the call … after awhile.”

  “So I learned from Darcy just last week. Dear Miss Bennet, when I left after the ball at Netherfield last November, I had every intention of returning within a few days, but I foolishly allowed myself to be convinced that you did not have feelings for me beyond friendship.”

  What do I feel? Now that he is here, what do I feel? Gazing at Bingley’s hopeful expression, Jane raised her chin, and there was a determination in her bearing he had not seen before. “I did feel a friendship, sir, and I .…” She trailed off, frowning. “When you were here last year—so attentive and complementary—I felt there might be more between us.”

  “What do you feel now, Miss Bennet?”

  “Wary.” With a wistful look, she stepped around him and began walking to the house.

  A moment later, Bingley was beside her, offering his arm. “That is a sensible response when a fool turns up unexpectedly on your doorstep. I am grateful for your wariness; it is kinder than hate or disdain. And I am well aware that I have work to do to prove my heart. I entreat you, Miss Bennet, do not let me off lightly. Until I have truly convinced you of my regard, hold me at arm’s length.”

  Jane looked at him, eyes wide. I did not expect this from him. Again, he offered his arm; this time, she took it. “Win me, if you can, Mr. Bingley. Lizzy assures me I am a worthy prize.”

  16

  “I will care for Rosings.”

  During dinner with the Bennets, Charles Bingley rightly sensed that the welcome he received was more perfunctory than enthusiastic. Yet, he expected no less than the family’s chary questions concerning his plans.

  Was he staying Netherfield for a long visit or a short one?

  “Long.”

  Were his sisters with him? Or would they be joining him?

  “No.”

  What had he been doing since he was last in Hertfordshire?

  “I visited the family businesses in the Derwent Valley, which is in Derbyshire.”

  Did he anticipate his business would require him to leave again unexpectedly and soon?

  “Absolutely not! I have missed Hertfordshire and the friends I made here. You were very much in my thoughts,” Bingley said. At that, all eyes turned to Jane, who blushed.

  Mrs. Bennet said, “Well, we are delighted by your return.”

  Of particular concern was the presence of Miss Georgiana Darcy. Bingley explained that she was there with her brother, her cousin, and her companion, so there was no question of impropriety. Still, all but Mr. Bennet wondered whether Miss Darcy was at Netherfield to demonstrate her fitness as a wife; however, none knew how to broach the subject—except one.

  “Are you engaged to Miss Darcy?” Lydia asked.

  Surprised, Bingley coughed on his full soup spoon. After drying his chin with his napkin, he replied, “We are not engaged now, nor will we ever be. I have known Miss Darcy for some years and think of her as the sister I wish the good Lord had blessed me with. I believe you will like her very much.”

  “As Mr. Darcy is your friend, he and his sister will always be welcome here,” Mrs. Bennet said in a tone that implied the opposite. “Despite his insulting Lizzy at the assembly last year.”

  “Mama, he made a thoughtless remark when we had not yet been introduced, and since then he has been quite … civil,” Elizabeth said. Horrible proposals notwithstanding.

  Kitty said, “And Colonel Fitzwilliam is with you? We enjoyed meeting him last week.”

  “He is one of the least troublesome guests we have hosted,” Mr. Bennet said.

  Bingley regarded the Bennets with surprise. “Colonel Fitzwilliam was your guest?”

  “He was here on army business,” Mary said.

  “He was here to ruin Wickham’s life,” Lydia muttered, but Bingley did not hear her, and the rest of the family ignored her.

  “After encountering him in Meryton, we invited him to dinner,” Elizabeth said.

  “During dinner, there was a fierce rainstorm, so we invited him to stay the night. He was very charming,” Jane said. At her words, a tiny flame of jealousy flared within Bingley’s chest.

  “Indeed, he charmed us all,” Mrs. Bennet said.

  “Not I,” muttered Lydia, who was again disregarded.

  By the time dinner ended, the Bennets and Bingley had achieved a cautious yet friendly rapprochement. He did not remain for a post-prandial drink, explaining he had been quite rude in abandoning his guests at Netherfield, and he wanted to assure himself they were well cared for.

  As Bingley rode away from Longbourn, he felt a contentment that had eluded him for months. Jane cares for me. She cares for me despite my stupid behavior. She does not love me yet, but she still likes me, and she forgives me. Well, perhaps she does not fully forgive me, but she is willing to let me prove myself. Smiling in relief and delight, he told his horse, “I believe Jane and I will have our happy ending.”

  ≈≈≈

  While Bingley was at Longbourn, Lady Catherine De Bourgh was at the assembly room in Bath, assessing potential husbands for her daughter. Having left Mrs. Jenkinson at Kesteven Place, her ladyship had accompanied Anne to her first Monday night ball since their arrival the previous week. Preferring the formality of the Thursday dress balls, Lady Catherine regarded the Monday balls with disdain, for they featured country dances. Thus, her face was fixed in a scowl as she sat with Lady Ophelia Hopwell, an old friend. The ladies fanned themselves with as much v
igor as good manners permitted, for the ballroom, containing more than one hundred people, was quite warm.

  “I do not see Anne among the dancers,” Lady Hopwell said.

  “It is too hot for her to dance—her health, you know. She is chatting there with the son of Baron Sheffield.”

  “Ah, yes. Anne’s gown is lovely. Is it new?”

  “It is, although I did not care for the modiste’s selection of fabrics.” Lady Catherine looked around the room, assessing the other young ladies. As was her custom when she viewed Anne from a distance, she imagined her daughter possessed all the desirable qualities associated with a young lady of her station.

  However, when Lady Hopwell looked at her friend’s daughter, she saw what she assumed was evident to all and sundry: Anne De Bourgh was a dainty, pleasant-looking spinster with more wealth than ladylike achievements; a woman who would be fortunate to receive a proposal from any man who was not in financial need.

  Lady Catherine frowned at Baron Sheffield’s son. “Anne can do better than that boy.”

  At this, Lady Hopwell paused in fanning herself for a brief moment, as one might stumble if one received surprising news when walking. Recovering the rhythm with her fan, she amended her description to include, And she has an overbearing, self-deluded mother.

  “I prefer Anne to marry someone with an estate.”

  “Does not your daughter have Rosings?” Lady Hopwell asked.

  “A wife should share her husband’s home. I will care for Rosings.”

  ≈≈≈

  That night, when Elizabeth and Jane were in their bedroom, eager to exchange confidences, Mrs. Bennet opened the door with-out knocking and said firmly, “This time, Jane, you must not let Mr. Bingley slip through your fingers. Even beauty such as yours will not last forever.” Expecting no response, she closed the door, and her daughters listened until the sound of her footsteps faded.

  “I must thank Mama for indirectly reminding me how fortunate I am not to have been born with your beauty,” Elizabeth said gravely. “Thus, I have nothing to lose.”

  “Do you think I let Mr. Bingley slip through my fingers?”

  “I think he lacked confidence, so he allowed others guide—or misguide him. Last year, Charlotte recommended showing more interest than you felt, but would you have been comfortable doing so? You have always been reserved.”

  “Last year, I would have felt shy about showing my regard. But now the situation is different. Mr. Bingley and I are not newly acquainted, and he says he has returned to win me. I want him to win me, but he must make the effort so I can be certain he will not be persuaded away from me.”

  “I am happy to hear you speak with such resolve,” Elizabeth said. Much later that night, she was still awake, dreading the inevitable morning call from the Netherfield party. Beyond her inquiries about Wickham, inspired as much by Anne De Bourgh’s revelations as by Darcy’s dark hint, she had given little thought to the brooding master of Pemberley. As for Bingley’s unexpected reappearance, it was both welcome and unsettling. She wondered, Did Mr. Darcy say something to cause Mr. Bingley return here without his supercilious sisters and with the stated intent of winning Jane’s affections?

  “I am not ashamed of what I wrote,” Elizabeth whispered into her pillow, but she was no longer certain this was true. I do not believe Mr. Darcy told Mr. Bingley of his proposal to me or of my letter to him, but what might he have said about me to Miss Darcy? Did he show his sister my letter? What will happen when the Darcys visit the Bennets?

  ≈≈≈

  As Bingley entered Netherfield, he was whistling the tune of the last dance he had danced with Jane Bennet at the ball held here in the previous November. Norris, closing the door behind his employer, reported, “The ladies have retired, sir, and the gentlemen are in the drawing room.”

  “Ah, thank you. And is all well, Norris?”

  “No one has indicated otherwise, sir.”

  “Excellent.” Bingley began whistling again, and when he reached the drawing room, he paused in the doorway and smiled.

  Fitzwilliam raised his brandy glass in a toast. “So, the Bennets did not shoot you on sight. I believe that counts as a win, sir.”

  “I enjoyed a delicious dinner and pleasant conversation with the family—after I apologized privately to Ja—to Miss Bennet.”

  “Privately?” Darcy asked.

  “She and Miss Elizabeth were outside when I arrived.”

  When Darcy did not inquire further, Fitzwilliam asked, “Were both ladies well?”

  “They were, they are. Indeed, the ladies are perfect! Miss Elizabeth was a bit protective of Miss Bennet, as one would expect under the circumstances.”

  Fitzwilliam saw Darcy close his eyes briefly. Are you picturing her, Cousin? To Bingley, he said, “What is next for your mission?”

  Darcy answered for him. “We call at Longbourn tomorrow.”

  “I hope you will forgive my abandoning you today,” Bingley said with an apologetic shrug, “but I had to see Miss Bennet. I had to tell her I was a fool.”

  “Sir, I am a battle-tested soldier,” Fitzwilliam said. “If I cannot make myself comfortable in a well-staffed manor with a talented cook and good brandy, I should resign my commission.”

  “We are fine,” Darcy said. “Norris and Mrs. Pimset are quite competent. Now, if you will excuse me, I am off to bed.” He drank the last of his brandy in one swallow and left the library.

  ≈≈≈

  May 21, 1811

  So as not to undermine Georgiana’s authority as Bingley’s hostess, Mrs. Annesley chose to remain at Netherfield when the others called at Longbourn. Consequently, Georgiana was the only lady whom Bingley assisted out of the Darcy carriage at the Bennets’ front door. She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and, as he led her to the door, he whispered, “Should I have worn my green cut-away coat?”

  “You look very handsome and every inch a gentleman.”

  Before he could knock, the door opened wide, and Mrs. Bennet stepped out. “Oh, Mr. Bingley, what a delight to see you!”

  “And you as well, madam.” He looked past her and saw Jane smiling at him from the doorway. My angel! he thought. Bowing, he returned her smile. “Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, allow me to present my lovely house guest, Miss Georgiana Darcy, who has kindly agreed to serve as my hostess.”

  Georgiana curtsied, and Mrs. Bennet and Jane curtsied in return. Darcy was pleased to note that the other Bennet daughters were not clustered in the foyer like a collection of curious cats, although he was sorry not to see Elizabeth there with Jane.

  “So delighted, my dear,” Mrs. Bennet said. “You must meet my youngest daughters. I believe they are very near to you in age.”

  Only Jane saw Darcy’s panicked expression. Stepping forward, she offered Georgiana her hand. “Welcome, Miss Darcy. Rather than overwhelm you with my ebullient youngest sisters, allow me to introduce you first to my most sensible sister, Elizabeth.”

  Georgiana took Jane’s hand happily. “I am so pleased to meet you, Miss Bennet, and I am eager to meet Miss Elizabeth, who has quite charmed my cousin Anne De Bourgh.” Jane acknowledged Darcy’s grateful look with a slight nod before leading his sister into the house; Bingley followed them.

  Darcy expected that when Mrs. Bennet saw a soldier who might be a potential suitor, her welcome would likely match the delight she had shown for Bingley. I wonder which daughter she will offer to Fitz. Thus, her greeting came as a shock. Grasping Fitzwilliam’s hands, she said, “Oh, dear Colonel, you have returned to us!”

  “Your hospitality was so delightful, it left me wanting more,” he said with a bow.

  “Returned?” Darcy murmured.

  Mrs. Bennet turned her attention to Darcy, and her expression clearly showed she had not decided whether he was a friend or a foe. He would not have surprised to learn that after he had snubbed the family at an assembly last year, she had declared him to be a disagreeable, conceited, horrid man, not at all worth pleasing
. Coolly polite, she said, “Good day to you, Mr. Darcy. Yes, your dear cousin graced us with his presence last week.”

  “I was in Meryton on army business, but there was a terrible storm, so the Bennets kindly offered me their guest room. I do not regret the weather, as I spent such a pleasant time here.” Fitzwilliam offered Mrs. Bennet his arm and escorted her in.

  “Why did I ever believe I was the master of my world?” Darcy murmured, following them.

  ≈≈≈

  As the last to enter the parlor, Darcy had but two choices: a chair by Miss Lydia, who sat apart, staring out a window, or a chair by Mr. Bennet. To his dismay, neither seat was near the sofa where Georgiana sat with Jane on one side and Elizabeth on the other. Still, when he observed these ladies together, his stern expression softened, although he was unaware of it—or that Mr. Bennet noticed. After bowing slightly in Lydia’s direction, Darcy took the chair beside her father; he did not see Lydia roll her eyes at him before she returned her gaze to the window.

  Mr. Bennet wondered if Darcy’s expression, which seemed somewhat less severe than the last time they were in company, was due to his affection for Georgiana or for another lady. In the letters Elizabeth wrote during her visit to the Collinses, she had mentioned Darcy only briefly. Perhaps the proud gentleman no longer viewed Elizabeth with disapprobation; however, Mr. Bennet doubted his favorite daughter had changed her opinion. Clearing his throat to claim his guest’s attention, he said, “So, Mr. Darcy, you’ve returned to our little corner of England and brought your sister—and she will be Mr. Bingley’s hostess.”

  Reluctantly, Darcy pulled his gaze from the ladies. “Yes. Although Georgiana is not yet out, I believe she will benefit from the kindness of those in the neighborhood as she puts to use what she has learned from her companion, a Mrs. Annesley. That lady did not join us today because she feels my sister can represent herself capably in social situations.”

  “You have but one sister?”