A Dishonorable Offer

by Timothy Underwood

  “So then you are an insensible man pretending to be a shameless flirt.” There was a pert satisfaction in her tone and face at how she had turned his statement around.

  Darcy laughed again. “No one, I daresay, not even a rock, could be insensible in your presence. Do you enjoy wordplay?”

  “I do. A great deal.”

  The first half of the dance ended, and all of the couples had cycled through to return to the point in the line where they had started. The tune was begun again. “I truly am pleased that Bingley forced me to dance. I think you are my favorite partner of the night.”

  “Oh my, you only think that. And only for this night? And you required your friend to force you to dance with me. High praise indeed.”

  “Do you wish absurd flattery?”

  “Nay, nay, your grounded flattery is quite as entertaining. I do prefer it, I think.”

  “I must ensure you never meet my cousins, for you would give them knowledge they would tease me about for a year.”

  “A sound policy for protection. Are they charming men?"

  “You would not like them at all, for they only know how to offer absurd flattery.”

  “I did like your absurd flattery. Forcing me to look at your fine coat and well-shaped chest to ensure you were not bleeding, that was inspired. It is only that I prefer to tease you about your reasonable statements. Truly though, shame on you. You clearly love your cousins dearly, yet you defame them to strange women.”

  “A strange woman? I shall not argue with your characterization of yourself.”

  Miss Elizabeth laughed, and she looked very pleased, as he’d expected.

  They continued to laugh and tease each other, but when the dance was nearly over, Miss Elizabeth frowned and looked to the side. She said quickly, “You ought to meet my sister, Jane. Perhaps you would like her as well. She actually is the prettiest girl in the room. And her temperament is perfectly sweet. You would not find a dance with her tiresome either.”

  “Your sister?” Darcy was a little annoyed that she was breaking their conversation to ask a favor. From the nervous way she didn’t quite look at him, Darcy was quite sure Miss Elizabeth thought she was begging something from him.

  He didn’t say anything more for a moment. She looked at him with something pleading and sweet in her dark eyes. “She is completely perfect. In every way.” Miss Elizabeth bit her lip and looked to the side again. “She was the girl Bingley danced with first, you said you thought her the prettiest in the room.”

  Bingley had also said she had very low relations, which meant Miss Elizabeth also had very low relations. Low enough to scare Bingley off from a girl.

  Miss Elizabeth missed a step and half tripped over one of their neighbors as Darcy watched her. She quickly begged forgiveness from the lady and cautiously looked back at Darcy.

  “A sweet temperament? I saw that she smiles very much.”

  “Yes, she does, and she is never cross, and she never argues with anyone, and she always thinks the best of everybody, and…and…”

  Darcy somehow felt sad. There was a desperation in her to help her sister. The melancholy that he’d seen in her face while he watched her seated against the wall before the dance had returned to her eyes. Darcy had a terrible curiosity to hear what was wrong with their relations. “I’ll ask your sister to dance.”

  “You will?” There was shock in her face.

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Oh, but you do not know. You must not know, not yet. I cannot hold you to such a promise.”

  “It then falls to me to hold myself to it.”

  The dance ended. Darcy saw from the corner of his eye Miss Bingley walking briskly towards them. Miss Elizabeth saw her too and with a quick blushing curtsy said, “I must… Mr. Darcy, thank you very, very much for the dance. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed one so much.”

  She rushed off.

  Darcy watched the way her dress swayed about her hips and her quick even steps.

  “Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy.” He looked at Miss Bingley. “You have no idea — that girl.” Miss Bingley laughed. “Her youngest sister married a blacksmith when six months with child; the blacksmith in the village next to Netherfield. She may look genteel, but she no longer is. It shall be such a joke in London when I tell all our friends that the great Mr. Darcy danced with the sister of a blacksmith — an actual plebe.”

  “A blacksmith.”

  “Yes, is it not such a good joke that you danced with the sister of a blacksmith?” Miss Bingley laughed.

  Poor Miss Elizabeth. That was a very low connection indeed.

  She stood near the opposite wall, the color of her silver grey dress clashing poorly with the light green wallpaper, watching him and Miss Bingley. Seeing his gaze turned towards her, she immediately looked down and away. She then sat down and frowned at her hands.

  What was it like to be despised for your relatives?

  And all of her desperation for a match was focused on her sister. The sweet one who never argued. But she must hurt for herself as well. The local community might accept her, but she did not expect haughty strangers to.

  “Do tell me you think it is a great joke. If you need me to hide it from the world, you might be able to convince me to keep silent.” Miss Bingley was prettyish, without being pretty. Her nose was too long, and when she smiled she gave the impression of a carrion-bird delighting over a carcass. It ruined the effect of her clear complexion and soft cheeks. Still, she was clever and personable, and her mercenary streak, which ran a mile wide, was good for regular entertainment.

  But Darcy felt too strongly for Miss Elizabeth to be entertained.

  “Miss Elizabeth and her sister, Miss Bennet — are any hopes spoken of for either of them?”

  “Hopes” — Miss Bingley laughed mean-spiritedly — “I think their sister put paid to those. Nothing is spoken of — and what respectable man would connect himself with a blacksmith? Even a tradesman would not sink so low.”

  It was stupid to feel happy and relieved at hearing Miss Elizabeth was entirely unattached. Miss Bingley was grinning at him. A girl like Miss Elizabeth deserved to be happy and to see her sister happy. “You are right,” Darcy spoke slowly, “Any gentleman would be a laughingstock. Poor girl.”

  “Don’t feel sad for her. Both girls are desperate husband hunting hussies. She is hoping to catch you.”

  “You know that I shall never make such a fool of myself over a woman.”

  He looked at Elizabeth again. She sat in that same posture he had first seen her in. Her head leaned back against the wall, and Darcy thought her eyes were closed, but there was a soft smile on her face.

  “It is a wonder they are allowed still to attend the assembly. This gathering ought to have better standards — but what can you expect from rustic society without the enlightening presence of any highborn families. I do wish London did not stink so in the summer, and society could stay year-round. It is not a woman’s place to suggest such things, but would not ever so much more parliamentary business be accomplished if they did not take such long breaks?"

  "Don’t insult Miss Elizabeth. She does not deserve your scorn.”

  “You think her a deserving object of charity? Or perhaps you wish to be her heroic rescuer?”

  Darcy did not want to discuss Elizabeth with Miss Bingley. Instead he said, “If society stayed in London year-round, when would the estates be looked after?”

  “You are right — you are always so diligent about your business, Darcy. Everyone must admire it exceedingly. And you have written such long letters of business already these few days you have been here.”

  He had to know more, and Miss Bingley would have collected all of the gossip. “The sisters — the Bennets, what more do you know of their connections?”

  There was a quick frown on Miss Bingley’s face. Perhaps she wished to rhapsodize further on the virtue of his ability to write five or ten pages of business correspondence in a day? Or perhaps she did not
like his interest in a different lady.

  “Their mother is the worst sort of woman. When her husband died, the entailed estate went to the Collinses, and she proceeded to waste a small fortune — five thousand pounds — in extravagant living. Their uncle, Mr. Phillips, is a country attorney here in Meryton. He must do a quite small business given the nature of the neighborhood. Their other uncle lives in his warehouses in Cheapside."

  “Five thousand pounds? Is nothing left of that? It is not much money, but one can live off it."

  “The girls are penniless — the dresses they wear were borrowed off of Mrs. Collins. I’m quite cross with her for pushing the introduction to Miss Bennet upon me and Charles. It was a low scheming move.”

  “Ah.”

  “Despite only having five thousand, her mother kept a carriage, lived in the best house in Meryton, and dressed quite as fine as ever, even though she was spending every penny she had. It must’ve shocked them terribly when the sisters suddenly found themselves with no resources. It was only two or three years ago that her mother’s money ran out.”

  Miss Bingley noticed Darcy’s eyes were intent on the object of their conversation and she exclaimed, “Surely not! Mr. Darcy — you cannot consider showing any further notice to such a girl. She is so low — think of your sister and uncle; your connections reflect on them as well as yourself.”

  “My uncle?” Darcy raised his eyebrows. “You must recall that Lord Matlock is famed for his mistresses and irreligious opinions. An additional smudge from his nephew standing up with the sister of a blacksmith in a public assembly would hardly be noticed.”

  “Yes — but does not her condition disgust you? It disgusts me.”

  “Ah, but your sensibilities are naturally delicate. Mine are not. As a man, I am made of sterner stuff. The whiff of smoke from a forge will not send me away from a pretty girl.”

  He would show every attention he reasonably could to Elizabeth. He had promised to dance with Miss Jane, and he would. Then he would ask Elizabeth again.

  “Even if you wish to enjoy her simpering smiles and flirts — you can see how desperately she and her sister are throwing themselves at every possible husband. It would be unkind to give her any hope that you might lower yourself so far.”

  “Not every woman’s mind jumps from a dance to marriage. Miss Elizabeth understands her unfortunate situation.”

  “Oh.” Miss Bingley’s eyes widened, and she nodded her head slowly. “I understand.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  Miss Bingley’s color heightened, and she looked about. “It really is quite — I hardly can be expected to say what I think you are about.”

  “Your attempt to be mysterious shall not work — though it is a fetching pose, and I am desperately curious” — Darcy raised his eyebrows sardonically — “yes, desperately curious to know what you are about, sadly I am too much a gentleman to seek information when a lady wishes to keep it hidden.”

  Darcy began to walk away.

  “Wait!” Miss Bingley grabbed Darcy’s sleeve and pulled herself up on her toes to speak into his ear. “You hope to convince her to accept your protection.”

  She stepped back and looked at Darcy with that carrion eater’s grin. He remembered yet again why, despite her reasonable dowry and the connection to one of his dearest friends, he had never, ever considered marrying Caroline Bingley.

  “Am I right? Such a thing is the best she can hope for, unless she too plans to marry a menial. You pity her — it would be a way for you to provide help.”

  The damned thing was that Miss Bingley was right. His body suddenly filled with lust and desire. He wanted to have her, to see her smile at him happily as he pushed himself into her. Darcy pushed away the image.

  He glanced towards Miss Elizabeth again, she no longer sat in the same place; instead she enthusiastically talked to Mrs. Collins and a local gentleman whose name Darcy could not recall. The gentleman led her towards the dance floor.

  Darcy’s reply was as much to himself as Miss Bingley. “You have quite a lascivious mind. The lady is still a gentlewoman, though in badly distressed circumstances. I suspect she would not appreciate such an offer.”

  “So you do not wish to help.”

  “This conversation is wholly improper — my dear Miss Bingley, your pretense of maidenly delicacy is slipping.”

  “You were the one who mentioned your uncle’s mistresses. If I am debauched and corrupted, it is your doing. And since you are such a gentleman — you know what must be done when a lady is ruined.”

  Miss Bingley grinned at him.

  "Sent to an isolated Scottish estate? If I believe the novels, she will take ill and die of shame. My dear lady, I believe neither solution would be much to your taste.”

  Miss Bingley giggled, and Darcy added, “I shall ask Miss Elizabeth Bennet for another dance — and nothing of your hints or information shall dissuade me. Do keep your ruminations to yourself."

  Chapter 6

  Though she kept her face and manner calm, Jane was unhappy as she and Elizabeth helped make preparations for the card party the next day.

  The two sisters worked steadily, shaping out the crusts of pies from the pile of moist dough Cook had prepared. The fragrant dusting of flour hung in the air. Jane wished to sneeze.

  Elizabeth’s cheek was smudged white with flour, and her hands quickly worked, pinching the edges of her pie as she spoke. “Mr. Bingley is not worth your time — any man who would not see your value despite Lydia’s marriage — I thought he would dance with you again. Even after what Miss Bingley told him. If he had any sense, he would have.”

  Jane smiled, warmed by her sister’s passionate defense of her, and lied, “I expected no such compliment, I was shocked to receive the request of even one set from him. Given our situation — everyone knows who Lydia has married, and we have absolutely nothing to live upon but the charity of her relatives, nothing better could be expected.”

  “I expect better.” Elizabeth finished working on the crust in front of her, and set it aside in the line with the seven others the girls prepared already. She pulled another ball of dough to her, beginning to shape it. “We must not lose heart, someday a perfect gentleman, twice as handsome as Mr. Bingley, will see your beauty and goodness, and never be able to stop dancing with you. It shall happen. Mr. Darcy asked you to dance, and he knew about Lydia by that point.”

  Elizabeth’s industrious working at her ball of dough prompted Jane to apply herself a little more to the piecrust in front of her. Jane said, “He only did so because he had promised you he would. He spent the dance asking about you and our connections.”

  Jane’s hands were dirty and sticky with the flour. She then pinched her nose to keep from sneezing, leaving it dirty as well. The practice of Mr. Phillips, while not very profitable, earned more than six or seven hundred pounds nearly every year. He could afford to support them all properly as gentlewomen. It was just his spite that forced her to do this. And Elizabeth’s belief that her perfect Jane would never complain.

  Lizzy of course was not bothered.

  It was not fair, and if Lizzy did not expect her to always be perfect, Jane would not have let Mr. Phillips make her help the cook.

  A gentlewoman should not press dough into piecrusts like a servant.

  Elizabeth broke the short silence which had fallen. “You are in a poor mood — do not deny it. I know you too well. Mr. Bingley disappointed you.”

  He had not.

  Mr. Bingley had behaved exactly how any sensible gentleman would. Her sister was married to his blacksmith. Married when already with child. Elizabeth always pretended everything was fine. But nothing was. Nothing ever would be. They were not going to live the life they should have.

  Papa’s death; Mama’s stupidity.

  Lydia’s lust. Lydia was a slag. A slug. A vile beast.

  Letting a blacksmith stick her…

  Elizabeth shouldn’t be so happy.

  Even now
, underneath her anger at Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth was happy.

  She was partly happy because Mr. Darcy had danced with her a second time, after he definitely knew about Lydia. Jane wished she could tease her sister, but nothing would come of it, like nothing would come from her admiration of Mr. Bingley.

  But when Mr. Darcy walked away at last, Elizabeth would not let herself feel unhappy.

  No matter what happened, Lizzy would sit there and go into her fanciful world where everything was wonderful, and then she would shake her head, dismiss the fantasy with that smile of hers, and say, “Of course Jane and I would love to help prepare the pies for the party tomorrow.”

  It was unnatural.

  The poverty and dependency didn’t even bother Elizabeth. She was only worried that they wouldn’t be able to marry for love.

  Elizabeth poked Jane. She smiled and pulled the half done piecrust from her. “It’s the last one. Muddle head. You are distracted this morning.” As Elizabeth’s quick fingers flattened the soft dough, she said, “Perhaps things are not so hopeless with Mr. Bingley after all — we cannot expect anything — but he does not know you yet. If he were perfect, he would just look at you and understand your goodness, but we must settle for what people actually exist. If he has more opportunity to converse with you… Perhaps tomorrow at the card party. Aunt Phillips said he would be here with Mr. Darcy and his sisters.”

  “I do not wish to throw myself at him, it is improper.”

  “You shall do nothing of the sort.” Elizabeth pinched the edges of the piecrust to create a twisted rope appearance. “Any man whom you must throw yourself at could not be worthy of my Jane. There is nothing wrong in seeing what might happen. He did like your appearance — and you said yourself he was an amiable gentleman, just the sort of manners you like.”

  “Lizzy, nothing will come of it. We must be reasonable. No one will marry us. I should have… In London, when I could” — Jane worried her hands together — “I should have married Mr. Thomas.”