I Met Mr Darcy Via Luton

by Fredrica Edward

  It was an evening of no common delight to them all. The satisfaction of Miss Bennet's mind gave a glow of such sweet animation to her face as made her look handsomer than ever. Kitty simpered and Lydia smiled, and both hoped their turn was coming soon. Mrs Bennet could not give her consent or speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings, though she talked to Bingley of nothing else for half an hour; and when Mr Bennet joined them at supper, his voice and manner plainly showed how really happy he was.

  Not a word, however, passed his lips in allusion to it, 'til their visitor took his leave for the night; but as soon as he was gone, he turned to his daughter and said:

  "Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy woman."

  Jane went to him instantly, kissed him, and thanked him for his goodness.

  "You are a good girl," he replied; "and I have great pleasure in thinking you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unalike. You are each of you so complying that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy that every servant will cheat you; and so generous that you will always exceed your income."

  "I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters would be unpardonable in me."

  "Exceed their income! My dear Mr Bennet," cried his wife, "what are you talking of? Why, he has four or five thousand a year and very likely more." Then addressing her daughter, "Oh! my dear, dear Jane, I am so happy! I am sure I shan't get a wink of sleep all night. I knew how it would be. I always said it must be so, at last. I was sure you could not be so beautiful for nothing! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him, when he first came into Hertfordshire last year, I thought how likely it was that you should come together. Oh! he is the handsomest young man that ever was seen!"

  Bingley, from this time, was, of course, a daily visitor at Longbourn, coming frequently before breakfast and always remaining 'til after supper.

  "He has made me so happy," said Jane, one evening, "by telling me that he was totally ignorant of my being in town last spring! I had not believed it possible."

  "I suspected as much," replied Elizabeth. "But how did he account for it?"

  "It must have been his sisters' doing. He said he has never been near Austria, but I am certain Caroline said Vienna! They were certainly no friends to his acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have chosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they see, as I trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they will learn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again, though we can never be what we once were to each other."

  "That is the most unforgiving speech," said Elizabeth, "that I ever heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again the dupe of Miss Bingley's pretended regard."

  "Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November, he really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of my being indifferent would have prevented his coming down again!"

  "He made a little mistake, to be sure, but it is to the credit of his modesty."

  This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence and the little value he put on his own good qualities. Elizabeth was pleased to find that he had not betrayed the interference of his friend, for, though Jane had the most generous and forgiving heart in the world, she knew it was a circumstance that must prejudice her against him.

  "I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!" cried Jane. "Oh! Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family and blessed above them all! If I could but see you as happy! If there were but such another man for you!"

  "If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as you. 'Til I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness."

  And in this, Lizzy was particularly thinking of her quick temper.

  Chapter 41: Getting to know him

  The week following Lizzy's arrival back in Hertfordshire had been one of the busiest of her life. She had arrived home to find that the large amount of the willow bark preparation she produced before leaving was almost consumed. What are the people of Meryton doing with this stuff? Drinking it?

  Kitty had decanted the last of it into the small bottles provided by Mr Jones. Lizzy was going to have to produce a new batch. She had lit the fire under the distillation apparatus to start this brewing while she chopped the herbs that were required for a different prescription involving digitalis. Mr Jones had not wished to entrust this to Kitty because of the potential toxicity. Indeed, it had to be chopped without touching it with the skin. After grinding this to a paste and safely storing it in a jar, Lizzy meticulously cleaned the utensils she had used.

  While the willow bark preparation was happily bubbling away, Kitty had come to view its progress. The sisters settled it between them to keep an eye on the brew so that Lizzy could spend some time with her young cousins, who wanted to play a game of hide-and-seek in the garden. Kitty had searched the garden so frequently she had exhausted all her cousins' novel hiding places and was reduced to wandering around aimlessly before flushing them out, acting surprised.

  When Mr Jones arrived on the following day to pick up the remaining bottles of willow bark and the digitalis compound, he explained the increased consumption: a physician in Luton had recently started ordering the willow bark preparation after talking to Dr Gregory. The apothecary brought several bunches of flowers with him as a form of barter since, in accordance with her sister Jane's notions of the proper deportment of a gentlewoman, Lizzy was not allowed to accept currency for her endeavours. These were gratefully accepted and disposed around the parlour, providing a heady backdrop to Mr Bingley's wooing of Jane. Mr Bennet asked if there had been a death in the family and took his tea away to drink in the library.

  Thus a week passed quickly away, and Mr Gardiner arrived to retrieve his family and his carriage. After lunch, Lizzy kissed her aunt goodbye, grateful for the solicitude that had allowed her to unburden her heart, but also relieved that she could now try to forget about the whole ordeal. The children piled into the carriage, and they were off.

  The following day Lizzy finally had the felicity of seeing her sister engaged to Mr Bingley, and she went to bed content.

  The weather was inclement on the day after the engagement, preventing Lizzy from setting off on her usual ramble. After taking a turn in the garden, she retreated to the house when it began to drizzle. Lizzy had been so busy since their return from Derbyshire that she had not yet completely unpacked her carpetbag. With no hope of a walk she busied herself emptying this, so that she could return it to the closet.

  She was slightly puzzled when her hand closed upon a book and completely mortified when she pulled it out to discover that it was the volume of Wordsworth's poems that had been loaned to her by Mr Darcy. How had it come there? She had never intended that it leave Derbyshire. The last Lizzy could remember was setting it down next to her reticule at the inn on the night he had given it to her, so that she might return it on the morrow. Could she have unthinkingly stowed it in her bag after breakfast, when they discovered that they must to return to London the following day? Perhaps Jane or Aunt Gardiner had put it there?

  Picking up the volume, she walked towards the light of the window. It was a leather-bound and handsomely tooled edition, the second volume of a set. Opening to the flyleaf she saw his name inscribed there in a firm but flowing script: Fitzwilliam Darcy, August 1811. So he had purchased it just before he had come to Netherfield…

  After sitting in the window seat, Lizzy balanced the book in her hands; whence it fell open at a poem entitled simply "7." She began to read:

  "I wandered lonely as a cloud…"

  As her eyes skimmed the page she found herself not registering the words at all, but instead imagining Mr Darcy holding the book with his head bent over it. His hair was long and unkempt, as she had seen it when he walked into the library; a curly lock dangled over his patrician nose, softening it.


  Breaking from this reverie, she focused on the last stanza:

  "For oft when on my couch I lie

  In vacant or in pensive mood,

  They flash upon that inward eye

  Which is the bliss of solitude,

  And then my heart with pleasure fills…"

  For some reason Lizzy's mind had now fixated on that bull neck, no longer concealed by that damned cravat, and she watched his Adam's apple dance up and down as he spoke the lines…

  Wrenching herself from this daydream she read the last line:

  "And dances with the Daffodils."

  What!? she thought. Dancing daffodils? Who reads this stuff? Does he read this stuff?

  Somewhat bemused, she set the book down on a side table. When a folded sheet of paper fell to the floor, she picked it up reflexively and unfolded it.

  Dearest Georgiana,

  I hope this letter finds you and Mrs Annesley well, and that your spirits are recovering. We have been at Netherfield for a week now. Bingley dragged me to a local ball several days ago, even though he knows that loud music gives me headaches. It was very awkward. We knew almost no one but our own party, but this didn't bother Bingley in the slightest, and no doubt he would have danced with every lady in the room if he had not encountered the very same lady we met several weeks ago when she was injured in the carriage accident.

  This lady and her sister, who I mentioned in my previous letter, are currently staying here at Netherfield as guests. The elder sister became ill after coming to dine with Bingley's sisters. Bingley is so happy with the circumstance I almost suspect him of having arranged it. I am joking, of course. She is the local beauty with guinea gold hair and cornflower blue eyes: the sort of lady that always has him in raptures. You know how silly he can be, as you always tease him when just such a lady walks past. The younger sister is, to my mind, the prettier, though in a less flashy way than her elder sibling. She has dark chestnut locks, which remind me a little of Mother, and fine dark eyes which sometimes seem to sparkle.

  They both seem very kind and are just the sort of ladies who would make good friends for you, my dear. The younger one is a bit of a bluestocking. As I already told you, she plays chess and reads Plato; and I even caught her reading a book on bloodletting the other day! However she has a lively sense of humour, and she looks after her sister most carefully, making tisanes, sitting by her, and reading to her to keep her entertained. She even walked three miles after the rain to attend her sister when she heard she was ill.

  Lizzy turned the sheet over but that was all. The letter was clearly not finished nor signed; and she could only assume that he had started and then forgotten about it.

  She was a little puzzled by its contents, which seemed at odds with her recollection of the haughty Mr Darcy from that period. Had he not called her the veriest hoyden?

  Lizzy then began to think that perhaps his opinion of her had changed suddenly for the worse for some reason. Had she done something that had particularly disgusted him? She could think of nothing, but had not her mother got upset with her before for behaviours that Lizzy had thought perfectly innocuous, such as reading books on bloodletting? Of course, there was a hint of disapproval in the comment he had made about bluestockings embedded in the subsequent 'however'. She had never categorised Mr Darcy with the majority of men who disapproved of the education of women before. Perhaps that was the source of his subsequent disgust?

  She felt a little embarrassed at reading his private correspondence, particularly since it contained praise of herself, faint though it was. She wondered briefly what she should do with it. Dispose of it? It seemed wrong to destroy his property. But if she gave him the book back with the letter intact, he might realise that she had read it. And exactly how should she return the book? Perhaps she could entrust it to Mr Bingley?

  However, before she could even think of asking that gentlemen to act as a go-between, he was off to London, leaving Mrs Bennet in a state of trepidation. What if he should leave poor Jane alone again, like he did last winter?

  Fortunately, Mr Bingley returned within a week with a large sapphire engagement ring for Jane's hand, which, he claimed, matched her eyes. This palpable measure of his troth relieved all Mrs Bennet's fears, for the trip to London proved to be far from the last.

  For the next weeks, Bingley wore a rut in the road between Hertfordshire and London: talking to investors to raise money for an expansion of the Yorkshire business; divesting himself of several pecuniary interests he had in London; and being abused by his younger elder sister–Caroline insisted he give up the Yorkshire scheme and honour his father's wishes of purchasing an estate, just so long as it wasn't somewhere boring like Hertfordshire.

  Elizabeth often walked out with Mr Bingley and Jane to act as a chaperone, though she hardly thought it necessary. During one of these walks, it occurred to her to ask him of something that had long puzzled her.

  "Mr Bingley, I have often wondered how you came to meet Mr Darcy. I thought at first that it might have been at university, but I believe you went to Oxford, whereas Mr Darcy went to Cambridge."

  "You are correct, Miss Elizabeth. It was during my university days. A group of my friends challenged some Cantabrigians to a rowing race on the Thames. I was drafted onto the team, and we acquitted ourselves creditably, winning by a good boat length."

  "And was Mr Darcy of their team?" asked Elizabeth.

  "Heavens, no! Darcy's never been one for team sports," said Bingley, astonished.

  Elizabeth thought this was consistent with what she knew of the man.

  "Well," Bingley said, resuming his story. "Our team went out to celebrate afterwards. I was on my way home with my friend Tom Reeve, who was…" here he coughed and smiled, "rather the worse for wear…"

  Miss Elizabeth smiled her understanding.

  "Well, three of their team encountered us as we were leaving Boodle's and set upon us. Tom's father was a Cit, and you know mine was in trade. I really feared for our lives because Tom was in quite a useless condition. Fortunately, Darcy had just stepped out of White's. He yelled for the Watch, who never seem to be around when you need them, and then came over and ordered them to desist."

  The Bennet sisters were all ears.

  "Well, you should have seen their faces. It is quite funny in retrospect. They looked at one another, wondering who he was and why he thought they should pay the least attention to him. Darcy attended Trinity, and they were not of that college. So one of them took a swing at him, and Darcy floored him quite easily. He spars at Jackson's Boxing Saloon and has the reach, you know… Then the other two went to rush him, but Darcy stepped back and unsheathed his sword stick…"

  "He carried a sword stick?" blurted Miss Elizabeth.

  "Why, yes, of course," said Bingley, bemused. "He always does. It is in that walking stick that he carries about."

  "Good heavens!" said Jane, aghast at this new, violent perspective of Mr Darcy. "I thought it merely a walking stick."

  "Well, I must admit, it is a trifle old-fashioned of him to carry it round, but it was his father's, and I do believe he has had need to use it on other occasions…" said Bingley.

  "But pray, continue your story, Mr Bingley," prompted Miss Elizabeth. "He unsheathed his sword stick…"

  "Oh, well, that is the end, you know," said Bingley, quite anticlimactically. "The Watch came up and dragged those fellows off; and Darcy hailed a hackney and took Tom and me back to his townhouse, where Mrs Flowers patched us up."

  "And you have been friends ever since?" asked Miss Elizabeth.

  "Basically, yes!" replied Mr Bingley cheerfully.

  The sisters mulled over these revelations as they walked on.

  Mr Bingley, suddenly becoming aware of the silence, blushed and said apologetically, "Perhaps there were parts of that story that were not appropriate for female ears."

  Or most of it! thought Elizabeth, amused. But the words she said were: "Think nothing of it, Mr Bingley. After all, we
are almost family!"

  They all chuckled and continued their walk.

  That night, Elizabeth had some trouble going to sleep as she pondered the day's discordant revelations of Mr Darcy, which seemed at odds with the picture she had drawn of him as a selfish, arrogant rake. His letter painted him as a rather sweet man who was devoted to his sister; and his intervention on Mr Bingley's behalf–as a selfless hero; so why had he not intervened on Lydia's behalf at the Netherfield Ball? It occurred to her that Mr Darcy's unsociable, taciturn disposition might be a manifestation of shyness, that perhaps he was uncomfortable with women…

  As she was dropping off, the thought slid into her mind that with no brothers and a distant father, that she, also, knew little of the ways of men…

  Chapter 42: The patron

  Towards the end of August, the banns for Bingley and Jane were finally announced for the first time in Longbourn church, and Mrs Bennet went into determined planning mode for her eldest daughter's nuptials. Mrs Gardiner was requested to send silks for the trousseau: Jane's status as the future Mrs Bingley demanded her day gowns be silk. After all, she must dress as fine as her new sisters. Mrs Gardiner also engaged to send, as a wedding gift, items of intimate apparel. The silks arrived within the week, along with several fashion magazines. A blue silk was chosen for the wedding gown, and despite Jane's weak protests, Mrs Bennet did not stint on lace. Mr Bennet dolefully put off the purchase of several new volumes for his library to fund this spree.

  Jane asked her sister to stand up with her as bridesmaid, a request that filled Elizabeth with dread, until polite enquiries revealed that Mr Darcy had declined his friend's application to stand up with him, citing important business in Derbyshire. Unfortunately, Mr Bingley's second choice of groomsman, his brother-in-law Mr Hurst, was also denied him, as the Bingley sisters had been invited to a house party at Badminton, which they had immediately accepted. Charles was advised by his sisters to reschedule his wedding to avoid a clash, which he steadfastly refused to do. In the end, Dr Gregory stepped into the breech, declaring himself honoured to be the best man.