Mr. Darcy laid his cards down, forcefully. What was he thinking. He looked at her and gave a small smile and shrug. He said, “I know Miss Elizabeth does not misuse her time; no one admitted to the pleasure of her conversation could think anything wanting.”
“Ha! You’ve barely met her.” Mr. Phillips seemed determined to ruin the evening. He probably was. “You’ll think different when you know her more. She has none of those normal accomplishments, no drawing, she can barely play the piano, no French, nothing. If she had them, maybe she could have married before Lydia disgraced us all. But Mrs. Bennet thought nothing of the future when she was spending all that money. Dresses and rent and rich food and a carriage. I’m just glad I only have sons.”
Miss Bingley said, “It is reasonable that you make her do something. I approve. A girl with such a sister should not expect to be treated as before.”
Elizabeth said, “I do not mind the work, and there is no reason to be ashamed, and…and despise me if you will. I can read French, though I cannot really speak it.”
Miss Bingley looked haughtily at Elizabeth. “You can read French, can you? Impressive — I cannot imagine what it is like to have so horrible of a relation as your sister. You bear up well. Had my sister married someone like that, I would have screamed and screamed, and ended in bedlam.”
“Then it is good it was my family’s burden to bear, and not yours.”
Mr. Phillips said bitterly, “Lydia’s fall bothers you not at all. You are just like your mother. She ran after Mr. Bennet, not because he held Longbourn, but because he was the best looking gentleman around as a youth. All of you inherited that. You envy Lydia for her good fortune.”
Elizabeth blushed again, and saw that Mr. Darcy looked at her thoughtfully. “I do not envy Lydia.”
“Don’t lie. I overheard you tell Jane that you thought Lydia was happy and however it hurt everyone else, you thought she’d done well for herself. I had half a mind to throw you back into the cold when I heard that. If Mrs. Phillips wouldn’t have screamed till my ears ached, I would have.”
Elizabeth ground her teeth. Why did Mr. Darcy need to watch this? “You entirely mistook my meaning.”
“Did I now?”
Elizabeth laid down another card. She’d already lost three shillings, and now lost another.
“Ha!” Mr. Phillips turned to Mr. Darcy. “She is down near half a crown already. You shall lose that bet. Women never bring any money. I should never have married. I could have made my way eventually, even without getting old Mr. Gardiner’s practice.”
Mr. Darcy said, “Mr. Phillips, I was wondering what business conditions are like here in Hertfordshire.”
Elizabeth looked up at Mr. Darcy, and he smiled at her little. Elizabeth tried to smile back, but could not. She didn’t like being an object of pity.
Mr. Phillips replied, “Eh, I daresay they are much the same as anywhere else. What do you wish to know?”
“Are you seeing a great many land sales? How far have prices gone up hereabouts?”
“Enormously — many places are selling for three or four times what they were when I began. I imagine, since we are near enough London for a day trip to town, the demand is even greater than in Derbyshire. Your friend would do well to make an offer on Netherfield, and soon. The price shall only go up. If there is one thing the Almighty isn’t making any more of, it is land.”
Mr. Phillips only cared because he would get a substantial fee as the lawyer of the baronet who owned Netherfield for drafting the transfer documents.
Darcy shrugged. “I do not think Bingley is in any great hurry, and he does not need to be. He is still young. And we drain so many swamps and fens. Of late, England has made a great deal of new land.”
Mr. Phillips laughed. "Ha — I suppose we have. I suppose we have. Just like us modern men. Steal the prerogatives of the Almighty.”
“Your own business? Is it mainly documents?”
“It always is for us country types. People need wills, contracts, mortgages, settlements, everything written up. It’s a slow business — the ready dribbles in for me while it gushes for the counselors in London when some great estate is contested.”
“It does. My great uncle made near ten thousand a year before he retired from the Chancery.”
“Yes, all fees and fees and fees. It’s why I always make sure any will I do for my clients is solid, signed and witnessed. People here do not have the money for a long case, not even the richer sort."
Miss Bingley said, “I much preferred the gossip. You men may like to discuss such things, but as a woman I demand you have some concern for our entertainment.”
Darcy’s face twitched.
Mr. Phillips replied, “Suggest a topic, Miss Bingley. But I won’t talk about lace and fripperies and all the useless matters women fill their heads with. Fashion — fah. Just a way to spend money.”
Miss Bingley smiled, “Very true. But you need us. If there were no women to spend money upon, gentlemen would grow quite lazy.”
“Ha. Instead we give all the laziness to our ladies who loll about all day and night in their gowns and pretend making calls and ordering maids about is work.”
“I daresay there are some who cannot loll anymore, has your newly married niece — no.” Miss Bingley shook her head. “We have left that topic.” She looked meaningfully at Elizabeth. “I will ask no further on it.”
“If we have left it,” Mr. Darcy said severely, “then it is best left.”
Elizabeth did not know why Miss Bingley wanted to insult her, though she understood why Mr. Phillips wished to help her. It would not be painful if Darcy was not watching.
Mr. Phillips laughed. “I perceive what you mean — I’m sure you are right. My niece Miss Lydia — I mean Mrs. Brown has likely discovered a taste for drudgery. Ha, she may not have liked it much, but she was still a gentlewoman when she was in my house. Miss Bingley, you are a sensible girl.”
“Oh, not me. I’m no cleverer than other women.”
“I suspect you are.” Mr. Phillips gestured at Elizabeth. “I’d wager you don’t go reading useless books and letting your mother spend her last penny on pretty dresses like this girl. You don’t have attacks of the nervous vapors every time the wind blows wrong like my sister-in-law, and you’d never marry a blacksmith just because he flexed his muscles in front of you.”
“Certainly I would not, but you disparage my sex too far. Most of us are sensible to that extent.”
“Maybe most well-bred, well-educated women, such as yourself, but the women round here, I do not disparage them far enough.”
Miss Bingley frowned and tapped her chin thoughtfully. She looked at Elizabeth and slowly nodded her head in agreement.
“Enough!” Darcy slammed his cards onto the table. “No more of this. Miss Elizabeth, it is your turn to select the conversation.”
They were all silent for a moment. The silence hung. This was a disaster. Elizabeth could not think.
“Ha, she is never quiet except when you order her to speak.” Mr. Phillips sneered at Elizabeth. “Very like a woman.”
Elizabeth said, “Shakespeare. Everyone admires Shakespeare. Uncle, even you enjoyed The Merchant of Venice.”
“I did — does Gardiner often pay for you to attend the theater?”
“He prefers to rent a box. Our presence was no extra cost.”
Mr. Phillips shook his head. “Useless extravagance, you can enjoy it quite as well from the galleries.”
“Miss Elizabeth, which is your favorite?” Darcy asked. “I confess a love for Lear above the rest: Cordelia’s death, the ranting King, the fool.”
“You mustn’t forget the evil sisters. Mayhap we shouldn’t discuss that play.” Miss Bingley sympathetically patted Elizabeth’s arm. “Perhaps that one feels too true for you.”
“Lydia is not evil! Leave my sister be. She may have been thoughtless and selfish, but she was never, never heartlessly cruel in the way Cordelia’s sisters are. I would
think her most like a Juliet whose Romeo lived. Her old friends and family have all abandoned her, but she is not alone or unhappy.”
Mr. Phillips said, “The more is the pity. I hope she dies when the child comes out.”
Darcy stared at him furiously.
Mr. Phillips said uncomfortably, “I do not truly mean that I wish her to die. Though it would not make me weep.”
“My mother died in the childbed. Such things are not a matter of jest.”
An awkward air settled over the table. Mr. Darcy stared darkly at the cards, his fingers tightly gripping his hand. Elizabeth felt sorrow for him. She’d not known that. They continued to play, and Elizabeth lost yet another round. Miss Bingley played aggressively against her.
At last Miss Bingley broke the silence. “You really should despise your sister. I am surprised you do not. Your position has been damaged by her running away with the plebe Romeo.”
“How could I blame a thoughtless child? She is yet fifteen. Those who raised and guarded her are to blame.”
“Now wait—” Mr. Phillips slammed his palm on the table. He was red-faced. “I watched her as close as I could. It is the mother’s place.”
“I meant that,” Elizabeth replied coolly. She blushed and looked down with a sense of pain. “I know I should not speak of my mother so. This whole conversation — oh, I wish I was seated at any other table. And I have lost you half a guinea already.”
Mr. Darcy said softly, “I truly do not mind.” He lifted his hand and then lowered it, as though he wished to touch hers, but realized it would be inappropriate.
With a laugh Mr. Phillips said, “I have won everything you lost, Lizzy. For once you’ve been good for something. But really, your mother is the worst woman I know, including yourself, Lydia, and my wife.” Mr. Phillips looked to the side. “The deuce. Speak of the devil and she comes.”
Mrs. Bennet stepped up to the table. Elizabeth visibly winced as anxiety pooled in her gut. Everything was already such a disaster, how would Mama make it worse?
Mr. Phillips said, “We were just speaking of you.” He snickered, and Miss Bingley laughed with him.
Unfazed, Mrs. Bennet said, “Lord! You were complaining no doubt. It is all you do. You constantly complain about me and your wife.” She smiled at Mr. Darcy, in what Elizabeth believed was supposed to be a coquettish manner. “Do I appear to be a lady who deserves all her brother’s insults?”
Darcy gave her his bright smile. “I am quite certain you do not.”
“You have such a handsome smile. I believe you are the finest looking gentleman I’ve ever seen. Lord, when you stood up at the ball — so tall!” Mrs. Bennet put her hand on Darcy’s shoulder and squeezed. “Oh my, you are very strong.”
Elizabeth stared in horror at her mother.
Darcy pulled back, moving his shoulder away from Mrs. Bennet, and, without his smile wavering, he said, “And you are very beautiful.”
Mrs. Bennet blushed and giggled like an infatuated school girl. “Oh, you are too kind. Too kind. I once was beautiful, but at my age, I leave such things to my daughters.”
“It is a loss to the world that you do not display yourself to it still. Your only excuse is how very beautiful your daughters are.”
“In my bloom I was pretty as Jane is. She is very beautiful.”
“As is Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Phillips harrumphed. “Enough of that. Enough. You see what I mean about how she is obsessed by a handsome face? And you know what they say about widows.”
Mrs. Bennet giggled and winked at Darcy. His smile stayed fixed. Elizabeth didn’t think it was real.
Mr. Phillips continued, “But she was the same way as a girl. And her daughters are just the same. It was Lizzy who was insulting you when you came to the table, not me. She claimed you were a terrible mother, and that everything bad which has happened to her is your fault. If she were my daughter, I’d beat her for defaming a parent to acquaintances so. Of course, you never discipline anyone, especially yourself.”
“What!” Mrs. Bennet screeched in sudden anger. “You malicious girl! I ought to ask Mr. Phillips to send you back to my brother if you will gossip about us. Were you speaking ill of Jane also? I know you jealously insult her to every man who might look at her because you hate that she is so much prettier and better natured than you are. She would have married by now if she didn’t have such a hateful sister.”
Elizabeth sat blank and white. Mama had said all this to her before. Repeatedly. But never in front of company. And Mr. Phillips, why did he need to be so cruel. Elizabeth darted a brief glance at Mr. Darcy who sat with his mouth ajar staring at Mrs. Bennet, and then Elizabeth darted her eyes away to ensure he would not catch her looking.
Mrs. Bennet grabbed Elizabeth’s wrist and squeezed painfully. “Everything is your fault. You ruined everything —you convinced Jane not to grab Mr. Collins before Charlotte snatched him up. You conspired with Charlotte to make sure she gained such a good husband, betraying your own flesh and blood. And Lydia, it was the example of your wildness which drove her to rut with that blacksmith. It all goes back to how your worthless father would indulge you in everything.”
Mr. Phillips laughed with delight, while Miss Bingley grinned widely, her eyes burning with delight for the scene. Mr. Darcy still watched. Tears began to prickle at the edge of Elizabeth’s eyes.
“Madam,” Darcy spoke harshly, “do not speak of your daughter so.”
Mrs. Bennet replied, “It is a pity you are seated here, and not with my Jane. Do not believe whatever Lizzy said about her, Jane is a very well behaved girl. And Jane is far more beautiful than Lizzy. More tractable. You did enjoy your dance with my Jane, did you not? She is so sweet, never a cross word with anyone. There is no worry that she would ever engage in wild behavior. She doesn’t read too much, not like Lizzy. You should talk with her.”
“I am quite happy seated here.”
Mrs. Bennet said to Elizabeth, “You did insult Jane to him! You liked that he danced with you, but when he danced with Jane, you needed to insult her because your jealousy was aroused. Just because Mr. Darcy is such a great man—”
“I never insulted Jane! Never!” Elizabeth threw her cards onto the table and fled out of the room.
Elizabeth collapsed onto a squat hard backed chair in the kitchen and sobbed. The pleasant smell of cooked meat and bread filled the room. The meat pies that she had helped prepare sat on the table in the kitchen, waiting to be brought out in a half hour.
Charlotte entered the room and hugged Elizabeth. Her familiar embrace was comfortable.
“I know it is nothing but a flirtation, but, why? Why in front of Mr. Darcy? I was happy and full of fun.”
Charlotte squeezed Elizabeth tighter about the shoulders. “You will be again.”
“I am so shamed. I like him and wanted him to think as well of me as he could. And everyone saw me flee the room. You know I love Jane above all. I would never try to hurt her. I convinced Mr. Darcy to dance with Jane; he never would have on his own accord. Why must Mama say such things?”
“Mrs. Bennet accused you of that? Vile treatment. You deserve better from her.”
Elizabeth blew her nose into a handkerchief, and Charlotte made her drink a strong glass of wine. Now that she had cried and been embraced, Elizabeth felt better.
She had long ago sworn to never let her mother make her unhappy. She had complete within her own soul all she ever needed, and everything else, including handsome flirtatious men seeing her and her relations for exactly what they were, was superfluous.
Charlotte added, “I don’t think she harmed your position in Mr. Darcy’s eyes at all. He looked worried after you left. Besides, I do believe there is a kind core to him.”
“I am still horribly shamed.”
“Oh, don’t worry so much about that. Here, let me help you clean your face. You look a fright.”
Elizabeth giggled. “Thank you for saying so.” She splashed cold water on her f
ace and dried her eyes.
With Charlotte’s help Elizabeth repaired her face as far as it could be done in a minute’s time and went back into the main room. Elizabeth was sure that everyone stared at her. However, she ignored that sensation and grabbed a piece to knit from the box and went to a chair along the edge of the room.
Mr. Bingley and Jane were seated next to each other at their table, smiling together with their heads close. Mr. Darcy had joined a different table, and as if drawn by her gaze, he looked at her with a solemn expression. Elizabeth blushed and looked down immediately. Mr. Phillips and Miss Bingley were seated at the same table as before, talking and playing piquet.
Instead of knitting, Elizabeth leaned her head back against the wall. Tonight started exactly right. She imagined it all going perfectly. Darcy would have been in the same group as Jane and Bingley, and they would need a fourth. And when Darcy asked for her to join them, Mr. Bingley would have happily agreed for them to play for pennies.
Mr. Darcy would’ve spent the evening making her laugh with his outrageous flirtations, while Mr. Bingley and Jane actually fell in love. Elizabeth smiled. From the happy tone she could catch in Jane’s voice, they were falling in love.
How could Mama ever think she would insult Jane out of jealousy?
Elizabeth shook her head and pushed the thought away. She was happy again and would not let Mama injure that.
The groups of players broke up when a light supper was brought in.
Elizabeth smiled, watching everyone, but she did not want to rejoin the hubbub yet. Mr. Darcy walked over to her, carrying a plate with several of the meat pies and a glass of wine. He sat down and handed her the wine and placed the tray on the arm rest between them. “For you.”
“Thank you.”
He sat with a slightly confused expression on his face, as though he wished to say something, but had no sense of what. He rubbed at his forehead with one of his long slender fingers.
Elizabeth took a small sip of the wine. “Do you not have a glass?”
A Dishonorable Offer Page 8
