by Jann Rowland
“Oh, you need not worry about Miss Elizabeth,” mocked Miss Bingley. “I dare say she receives worse than the brush I gave her from the swine among which she walks when traipsing about her home.”
“At least the swine know how to behave themselves,” snapped Elizabeth, her endurance for this woman reaching its breaking point.
The malevolent glare with which Miss Bingley regarded her accompanied the woman’s opening of her mouth, no doubt to deliver some stinging retort. Her intention, however, was interrupted by the gentleman.
“Miss Bingley,” said he, his own stern glare more than equaling hers, “I believe the time has come to clear whatever misunderstanding you might have harbored, so you may cease your assaults on Miss Elizabeth’s person and character.”
Eyes wide, Miss Bingley said: “I cannot imagine what you mean. I have not assaulted Miss Elizabeth—if she believes it of me, it is because of her own lack of understanding concerning the behavior of those of our level of society.”
Mr. Darcy quirked an eyebrow at her mention of their level of society, and the sudden flush of her face suggested she did not misunderstand his unstated rebuke. To castigate her for her continued attempts to claim a higher level than was warranted would have been far too obvious, and Elizabeth thought useless. Thus, Mr. Darcy ignored her assertion.
“I do not think Miss Elizabeth can misunderstand anything you have said or done, Miss Bingley, and shouldering her aside is not the action of a gentlewoman. That you do it because of your designs makes it even more contemptible.”
“Designs?” echoed Miss Bingley, feigning lack of understanding.
Mr. Darcy only glared at her with impatience. “Come, Miss Bingley—no one who has spent any time in your company can misunderstand your desire to be mistress of Pemberley. Do not insult my intelligence by thinking me witless.”
“I could never imagine such a thing,” replied Miss Bingley. The woman showed him a coy smile, the sight of her batting her eyelashes almost causing Elizabeth to burst into laughter.
“Then you will also believe me when I say there was never any possibility I would offer for you.”
Had it not been so very pathetic, Elizabeth might have laughed when the woman’s jaw fell open. Apparently, Georgiana, who had followed Miss Bingley to them, had no such compunction, for her giggle served to snap Miss Bingley’s lips back together. The glare she fixed on Georgiana was like nothing Elizabeth had ever seen before for one of the Darcy family.
“Can you not see the benefits of offering for me?” said Miss Bingley, turning a sweet smile back on Mr. Darcy. “What more could you want in a wife?”
“I will not discuss my requirements in a wife with you, Miss Bingley,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Suffice it to say that you are my dear friend’s sister, and that is all I have ever thought of you. There is nothing which will induce me to offer for you, so you are wasting your time.”
“As I have told you more than once,” came the voice of Mr. Bingley. He and Jane, having noticed the rest of the party had stopped, were striding toward them, the gentleman’s eyes fixed on his sister. “Now that Darcy has told you himself, will you now believe me?”
Miss Bingley’s countenance was ablaze with affront. “Then do you mean to make Miss Elizabeth your wife?” She snorted in utter disdain. “I must commend your confidence, sir, for it will take much work to make her in any way presentable for society.”
“I will not trade words except to warn you.” Mr. Darcy’s look seemed to challenge her to continue, a challenge Miss Bingley declined. “I know not what you think, Miss Bingley, but Miss Elizabeth and I are not engaged, nor are we even courting.
“Your comments about her suitability for society, however, make me wonder if you have been blinded these past weeks. The Bennet sisters have been welcome wherever they go, and before you say it is because of my mother’s support, you should know that it is much more than my mother’s approval. Thus, in answer to your question, I do not consider her unsuitable at all, not that it is any of your concern.”
For a moment, Miss Bingley watched him, her gaze suggesting an attempt to determine how serious he was. The answer must not have been to her liking, for her expression turned forbidding.
“Then I hope you find your happiness with your countrified wife, Mr. Darcy,” snapped she.
Then she turned and her heel and stalked off in high dudgeon, leaving them all watching her as she departed. Mr. Bingley shook his head and fixed Darcy with an amused grin.
“I suppose I should at least follow her to ensure she does not come to harm.” Then he glanced at Elizabeth and patted Mr. Darcy’s arm. “Though my sister will not appreciate the irony, perhaps we shall be brothers after all.”
With the departure of Mr. Bingley and Jane, who turned to follow his sister—albeit at a more leisurely pace—Georgiana flashed a grin and followed them. Elizabeth, having finally obtained Mr. Darcy’s open declaration of interest—or at least that he considered her appropriate—remained where she was, watching the gentleman as his attention turned to her. They remained in this attitude for several long moments.
“Am I to understand that I am not only handsome enough to tempt but that I am apposite to be considered for the position Miss Bingley is so desperate to hold?”
“I should hope you will forgive me for those intemperate words, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Mr. Darcy.
“Oh, I already have,” said she, feeling mischievous and elated all at once. “That does not mean I will allow you to forget them.”
For the first time in their acquaintance, Elizabeth was treated to the sight of Mr. Darcy laughing with abandon. There had been a time when she might have thought he was not capable of it. Recent events had disproved that supposition.
“Of course, I would not dream of it,” replied he when his mirth subsided to chuckles. He then turned a more serious look on her. “If I were to consider you an appropriate prospective bride, would you consider me a potential husband?”
“Perhaps,” replied Elizabeth, not stopping to think. “But I should warn you, Mr. Darcy, that Jane and I have always determined to marry for love. With my elder sister’s excellent example, you can hardly suppose I would foreswear myself now.”
“Then we understand each other,” said Mr. Darcy.
The gentleman offered his arm, which Elizabeth took, and turned them back toward the house, following the rest of their party. Though Elizabeth had just given Mr. Darcy far more encouragement than she had ever thought she might, she could not help but feel content with her decision. Perhaps there was something more to Mr. Darcy than even she had thought these past weeks. If nothing else, she was certain she would enjoy learning if she was correct.
Chapter XIV
How they kept their growing affection for each other from her mother, Anne de Bourgh would never know. Then again, Anne did not know whether this was growing affection or more of Anthony’s insouciance. That he appeared more earnest than she could ever remember him being was a good sign, but it did not answer all her questions.
Not that her mother did not notice when Anthony was often in Anne’s company. In fact, she commented on the matter more than once. But Anne had known for some time her mother possessed a curious blindness, one which induced her to see what she wished to see, to interpret events according to her own desires. Though Anne knew a confrontation was looming, she did not wish to provoke it before it became necessary.
“You are much in evidence of late, Fitzwilliam,” said Lady Catherine on one of these occasions. “Have you no duties to attend to at your barracks?”
“My duties are light at present,” Anthony replied, not at all intimidated by Lady Catherine’s manner. “What I have I attend to, you may be assured.”
Lady Catherine eyed him for several moments, her gaze darting to Anne. “And what of your recent interest in Anne?”
“Are we not living in the same house at present?” asked Anthony, neatly diverting her. “It seems serendipitous, does it not? It giv
es me an opportunity to come to know Anne better, and as she is a dear cousin, I am not hesitant to make good on the chance.”
The reference to their situation living together in his father’s house and his deliberate mention of Anne as a cousin seemed to do the trick, though it did not prevent Lady Catherine from issuing a veiled warning.
“I suppose you must be correct. As long as there is nothing more to it.”
“We are cousins, Lady Catherine. Family is, after all, of utmost importance. Is it not?”
Finally satisfied, Lady Catherine allowed that it was and turned her attention to Lady Susan, who was watching them with evident amusement. Anne knew she was not as blind as Lady Catherine—whether Anthony had told her something of his intentions she did not know—and there was also a kind of hope about her which was becoming more pronounced the more Anne spoke with Anthony. Anne knew of her fears for her son, for he had been sent to war more than once. With the war with the French tyrant a constant threat, there was a chance he would be called into service again.
Which brought the other part of Anne’s situation to mind and caused her to pause in consideration. The esteem she felt for her cousin, which was growing by the day, was tempered by the thought he might have other reasons for walking a path her other cousin did not wish to tread. If his behavior was due to a desire to retire from active service, should Anne allow it? She did not wish harm to come to her cousin, but Anne’s confusion at present was such that she did not know what she felt for him, and the notion of relinquishing her newfound, though possibly illusory, freedom was not at all welcome.
As such, Anne decided it was a conversation she must have with him. The opportunity presented itself only a day or two after Anthony had put off her mother. As Lady Susan had Lady Catherine diverted by for the morning, Anne found herself at leisure, and as Anthony suggested a walk to Hyde Park, she agreed, thinking the privacy the walk would afford would be an ideal opportunity to learn what she wished to know.
As ever, the discussion was engaging—Anne had always known of his effortless ability to talk, sometimes without requiring a response. But as was usual of late, he spent much more time listening to her than was his wont. Anne used this to her advantage.
“It seems we have become much closer these past weeks, Cousin,” said Anne.
“There were many things we each did not know about the other,” said Anthony. “One would assume we each know the other well as we are cousins. Then again, your mother’s obsession with Darcy has made it difficult.”
“And yet, of late, we have ignored Mother’s dictates,” challenged Anne.
Anthony shrugged, a hint of his usual insouciance returning. “There does not seem to be any reason to refrain.”
“Why? Has Mother’s insistence on the subject changed?”
Turning to her, Anthony seemed to realize she was not of a mood to endure his nonchalance. “No, it has not. But I had not known what I was missing in not coming to know you before. This spring has taught me I should not care for Lady Catherine’s displeasure.”
That was an encouraging sign, Anne thought, though she still did not know how she should feel on the subject. “Then it is not your situation which prompts your attention to me.”
Anthony appeared confused. “Situation?”
“Your oft-stated need to marry a woman who possesses wealth,” said Anne, though she thought it should be obvious. “I must assume I am superior to any of them as I possess an estate as my dowry, rather than a sum of money.”
Confusion turned to consideration and Anthony was silent for a moment. The moment soon passed, however, and he turned a look of some intensity on her. “I see Darcy’s indifference has done you no favors.”
This time it was Anne’s turn to be confused. “I do not understand.”
Sighing, Anthony spied a nearby bench and led her to it, seeing to her comfort before sitting himself. When they had situated themselves there, he paused for a long moment, looking about in seeming interest for their surroundings, though Anne was certain he was searching for the proper words.
“I can see how you might think that of me,” said Anthony at length. When Anne attempted to speak, he held up his hand, clearly wishing to speak without interruption. Anne decided it was for the best. “I have, as you know, a sum of money set aside for me by my parents, and if I wished it, I could resign my commission now. But I have always thought it my duty to serve my country.
“I speak of my need to marry a woman of means in jest, though finding such a woman would be of immense assistance. For some time now, I have not searched much, as I have had my duty to occupy me. I often felt that any woman of means would do, never having had much of a romantic turn.”
“And now?” prompted Anne.
Anthony turned to her, and he fixed her with a wide grin, and at that moment, Anne thought it possible to lose her heart to him. “Now I have discovered it is possible to aspire for something more than someone who can keep me in a style in which I wish to live. I now know it is possible to have that which many of our set have forgotten has much value—a union with a woman where we can both esteem the other and enjoy life. It has made me revisit what I want and revise my wishes accordingly.”
For a moment Anne did not know how to respond. She wished to blush, gaze at him in wonder, declare her own similar desires, and ask him if he was as, indeed, in earnest, all at the same time. But something held her back, whether it was her own reticence, concern for her mother’s reaction, or nothing more than the newness of it all, she did not know. For the moment, she knew she needed to consider the matter further.
“Then let us leave this subject for the present. For my part, I wish to assure you that I am not at all opposed to such a notion and am eager to see what may be.”
Anthony favored her with a brilliant smile and stood, offering his arm to her. “Then shall we?”
Anne accepted and they continued their walk. And somehow, the day seemed brighter than it had been before.
It was a source of some amusement for Elizabeth that Lady Catherine focused on her as the impediment to her designs rather than looking to the other romance budding right under her very nose. Elizabeth was the interloper, the lowborn social climber intent upon diverting her future son-in-law’s attention away from his duty. But Anne and Colonel Fitzwilliam were as focused on each other as any couple Elizabeth had ever seen, yet Lady Catherine ignored them.
Why this might be, Elizabeth could not say, though she had her suspicions. Among them was the notion that Lady Catherine could not imagine any way her daughter would not obey her and act as she desired. To the lady, Anne was the daughter who had always followed her every whim, whom she had dominated all her life, though Elizabeth knew the lady would not see it that way.
Elizabeth, however, had Anne’s assurances she would not be prevailed upon to marry her cousin—or that she would not marry the cousin Lady Catherine had chosen for her! No matter how many times Colonel Fitzwilliam and Anne sat together under the lady’s watchful gaze, no sign of suspicion ever showed in her manners, though at times Elizabeth thought the lady was exasperated with the colonel for taking up so much of her daughter’s time.
“You must learn how to behave properly,” the lady would say to Elizabeth, the moment she so much as glanced in Mr. Darcy’s direction. Then she would turn to Mr. Darcy and add: “Sit beside Anne, Darcy, for she requires a partner at present.”
That she made such statements, ignoring the presence of Colonel Fitzwilliam by her daughter’s side, showed how blind she was. Elizabeth, though her annoyance would rise every time the woman attempted to castigate her, was at least amused by her antics. That Lady Anne was in much the same state, Elizabeth could easily see, but more than once she prevented Elizabeth from saying something caustic by interjecting herself and diverting Lady Catherine’s attention.
This dynamic was displayed amply on one occasion, in particular, where the lady’s harsh judgment of Elizabeth reached a new level. In that instanc
e, Jane was absent, having been invited to the Hurst townhouse for the day by Mrs. Hurst.
“At least one of the sisters appears to have bowed to the inevitable,” opined Elizabeth on learning of her sister’s plans for the day.
Jane, as was her wont, responded with modesty and a hint of embarrassment. “I do not know that it is inevitable yet.”
“Oh, I am quite sure it is,” replied Elizabeth, amused at her sister’s denial. “If Mr. Bingley does not propose within the next two weeks, I shall be very much surprised.”
The hope Jane displayed endeared her all that much more to Elizabeth. Deciding against teasing her sister further, instead, Elizabeth assisted her in her preparations and accompanied her as she was leaving. Though Elizabeth knew she would lose the closeness she enjoyed with Jane—for a woman must cleave to her husband—Elizabeth was relieved Miss Bingley’s efforts had been in vain.
Furthermore, thought Elizabeth as she watched the carriage transporting Jane disappear around a corner, Miss Bingley had not been in evidence much since the set down she had received during their walk at Hyde Park. Though Elizabeth had seen her at some events, Miss Bingley did not deign to talk to her or anyone of the Darcy party and had, instead, seemed to be attempting to curry favor to every man of consequence in London. Elizabeth could not say if she would find success in provoking a man to offer for her, but she seemed to have given up on her desire to wed Mr. Darcy.
Visitors to the house that morning after Jane left comprised some of Lady Anne’s acquaintances, most of whom had already been introduced to Elizabeth previously. After some time of sitting and speaking, Lady Catherine arrived in all her grandeur with Anne in tow, along with Colonel Fitzwilliam. As was common in such circumstances, the pair sat near each other, though calculated to give Lady Catherine the impression they were not sitting too close. It seemed to work, for Lady Catherine noticed nothing. However, she did give Elizabeth a hard glare, as she always did, though Elizabeth was not situated anywhere near Mr. Darcy.
