Chapter 4
Fitzwilliam Darcy was seldom taken by surprise. He was convinced he knew enough of the world to anticipate all within the spectrum of human interaction and reactions. This belief would be challenged many times in his lifetime but in the eight and twenty years of his life, it had been severely challenged twice. The first on that infamous day at Ramsgate when his sister's contemplated elopement was disclosed to him, and the second as the fierce flow of protection surged through his veins as he looked through the large emerald eyes of Lady Rockwood. Of all the attributes his mind and heart should focus on, Darcy would laugh at himself that in the presence of such beauty it should be her eyes that he first noticed.
Uninterested and ill at ease, Darcy presented himself to the Meryton public assembly. It was expected of him so it was done. His hatred for such events was inconsequential, but determined to be displeased with everything he saw, he came. He expected to be met by some standards of beauty, for beauty wasn't as rare as many would have him believe. Of the Bennet ladies' reported beauty, it could at least be said that they each knew how to accent all that was available to them. Clothed in elegance they gathered as chicks around their over-feathered mother. He noticed her blonde, classically beautiful sister first. Miss Jane Bennet was all that was delicate and pliable, and so easily forgotten. Miss Mary's gentle and calm beauty was still being overshadowed by her insecurities and would only encourage brotherly affection in him. A part of Darcy's mind, he was sure, took notice of Lady Rockwood's olive tone and chestnut hair that implied an exotic beauty. Her full lips would not have escaped his attention, nor would her extremely suggestive womanly curves, but as he looked upon her eyes the sadness and the pain so reminiscent of Georgiana's, his protective instinct surprised even him.
Faced with the ridiculousness of the mother, the beauty of her daughters was easily forgotten. Her vulgar attempts to promote one daughter even above the interest of her others did much to restore Darcy's feeling of righteous anger at the society found in Meryton.
The night was wearing on his patience. Admittedly much of his annoyance could be laid at the feet of the company amongst his own party. But as it was not strictly proper to hold his hostess in contempt, the people of Meryton were left to feel the sting of his rejection. He could hear their whispers as they universally decided his ten thousand pounds a year was not enough to protect his character. He was deemed proud and disagreeable and since this judgement suited his interest, he did not see fit to suggest otherwise.
The ladies from Netherfield had kept themselves busy in finding out all that they could of Lady Rockwood. Much of what they had found had been relayed by the lady's own mother, who had gleefully told of the lady's marriage and subsequent widowhood. Their own conversation with the Lady gave no further information other than their conclusion that she was proud and undeserving of a noble title. However, Darcy gained from their conversation that she was wise and not willing to be browbeaten by the Netherfield ladies.
All Darcy could remember of his own acquaintance with the late Earl was that he was a steady and calm gentleman, who could be called upon to bail his brother out of the sticky situations the Viscount often found himself in. Of the Viscount's escapades, he knew enough to be thankful he was not Earl and head of his brother's fortune. As the ladies voiced their own misconceptions of the match, no doubt fuelled by the falls in their own characters, Darcy wished he could admonish them or at least release himself from their company. The search for an escape brought to his sight the pained look on Lady Rockwood's countenance. That she could hear Bingley's sisters was evident by her delicate hand balled up into a fist. In the only fit of gallantry he would experience for the night, Darcy asked Miss Bingley to dance and in so doing ended her venomous speech. As the dance progressed, he turned to see evidence of the Lady's silent gratitude only to find her in an animated discussion with her friends nearby. A feeling of discontentment settled upon Darcy as he found himself cast as the unsung hero.
Elizabeth slipped into the slightly warm bed to enjoy the only benefit she had looked forward to all night. Laughter erupted from her lips as her feet met Mary's cold ones. As a fitting conclusion to the night, the Bennet ladies had gathered in Jane's room to discuss the success of the evening. Mary timidly proclaimed the night a success – for she had been without a partner for only two dances, a rarity for her here in Hertfordshire. As Jane sang Mr Bingley's praises, Elizabeth held her peace on her judgement of the rest of his party. She would tell Jane so that her sweet sister might be on guard, but she worried how much the behaviour of the sisters might weigh against their brother. It was not her desire to rob her sister of her chance for love, so she tentatively told Jane of the sisters' remarks and the friend's inaction. That Jane was troubled she could easily tell, for she had loved Andrew as a dear brother and to have his name or memory blemished was perhaps unforgettable. Elizabeth's anger from the recitation calmed as Mary drew her hand, interlocking their fingers. It did not remove the sting, but the solidarity of her sisters was all Elizabeth needed to enter into her first dreamless sleep in a year and for that, she would be eternally grateful.
The family gather for a late breakfast to hear Mrs Bennet's loud proclamations on last night. It was clear that she was yet undecided as to whether the evening was a success. She declared herself happy at Mr Bingley's attentions towards Jane and in the same breath declared her vexations that he should presume to show such attentions, for Jane was too beautiful for him. His sisters were deemed proud, but they were ladies of fashion and therefore forgiven every sin. Though she had been called several times to remind them of Elizabeth's status and Mary's innumerable accomplishment; but this, she assured her family, was done for their benefit. Mr Darcy was hailed to be the proudest and most disagreeable man, but the only sin she could accuse him of was that he showed no interest in Jane. Elizabeth had yet to make public knowledge of the slight by the sisters and the intended slight by the gentleman. She had concluded it would serve no purpose than perhaps her mother calling out the offending party – for her mother guarded her daughter's new station in life more jealously than even Elizabeth.
"But Mr Bingley will do for now. For as I always say, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," Mrs Bennet concluded.
"Wisely spoken Mrs Bennet, after all, Jane cannot be expected to wait forever for this unforthcoming Duke," Mr Bennet said as he raised his morning cup of coffee towards his wife.
"Well! She would not have been expected to wait if Elizabeth would do her duty. She would have been married by now, with several children of her own, I am sure of it. But her sister seems content for her to remain a spinster. Why Lord Rockwood looked to Lizzie I will never know, for it shows poor sense if you ask me, but there you have it," Mrs Bennet replied to the dismay of everyone present. Elizabeth threw her father a disproving look for starting his wife on her most favourite misfortune. Poor Jane could only blush as her mother's pronouncement of her pending spinsterhood was all the conversation to be had at the breakfast table.
Happy in the mischief he had caused, Mr Bennet turned his attention to his grandson, whom he collected from Mary after he had been cleaned, leaving the ladies to their mother. It was their routine that when Elizabeth was at Longbourn in the mornings she would, along with her sisters, make calls to their tenants.
After dispensing of their morning duties, the ladies were welcomed by their first caller of the day. Charlotte had come with enquiries on how Elizabeth was doing. Before her marriage, Charlotte would have no need to be worried about her friend. Elizabeth, she was sure, would have brushed off such remarks and conjured up a witty response that accompanied her scorn. However, Elizabeth was no longer Elizabeth and it was not too far a stretch of the imagination to expect Lady Rockwood to be hurt by such remarks about her late husband and their marriage.
With the doors now opened for callers and entertainment, it was not unexpected that Longbourn received more male callers than it had previously received. In fact, the lady of the house considered it only right and had no issues serving her third daughter up as the weakest wildebeest for the lions to devour. Amongst the callers were the ladies and one of the gentlemen of Netherfield Park. Miss Bingley and her brother were amongst the last to call and it was clear to those perceptive enough to see, they had tried mightily to miss the polite time for calling.
Mrs Bennet had yet to give up her campaign for Mary and Mr Bingley, so she tried all that was proper and perhaps improper to get the gentleman to engage with her other daughter. But Mr Bingley's polite determination was to be commended. A guarded conversation, guarded on the young lady's end, was struck between himself and Jane. Even with the lateness of the hour for calling, the drawing room was yet full, for some people had stayed longer than was strictly polite.
Miss Bingley unhappy with the deference shown to the Countess said, "How is the current Earl of Rockwood? Well, I hope?"
The quiet hum of the drawing room stilled, "My son is very well thank you." Elizabeth replied stiffly. The shock on Miss Bingley's face was clear to see. This moment would have been a more sensible time for Miss Bingley to gain some sense. For a wise person would have deduced that with Elizabeth doing her duty in begetting an heir, her hold on her status was still valid and would continue to be so, Lord willing, for the rest of her life. But jealousy was not wisdom and it produced very little in the way of sense. As the tension defused other conversations began again, but one of conversation in the room received very little encouragement from one individual. So as Mr Bingley's carriage pulled away, none of its occupants left feeling satisfied.
Perhaps promoted by Miss Bingley's question, once the morning calls had ended Elizabeth went where she had not been in 13 months. Over the years the stable at Longbourn had received an expansion. Shortly after Elizabeth's marriage to an Earl Mrs Bennet had insisted that it was a disgrace of the highest proportions that she was seen in what had been the family's carriage. Being a fanatic horseman, Lord Rockwood had seen fit to gift his mother-in-law with new horses and Mr Bennet had purchased a new carriage. Along with the various expansions of her knowledge on what was expected of a gentlewoman, per Andrew's insistence Elizabeth, Jane and Mary had been given horses and lessons. For the joy it brought her husband, Elizabeth had overcome her apprehensions, yet only the meekest mare would suit her. Mary, though not as skittish as Elizabeth, had received an equally mild mare. But for Jane the gentleness she had in abundance was severely lacking in the stallion she finally received. All these animals, as well as the pony Andrew had intended for his son, were brought along with Elizabeth on her departure from her estate and kept at her father's house. As part of an agreement, one she had lost, Philip would begin his training. Her father and Mr Davis, Nettleham's head coachman, were determined that her son would be a horseman equal to his father. Elizabeth had only relented when she was told of her son's joy and natural abilities upon his pony, for she could deprive him of nothing and her fears need not be his. But she had never seen him upon his pony nor had she even set foot in the stable yard.
Her son's gentle laughter hurried her feet along as she made her way to her father's stable yard. There she saw him with his determined little tongue sticking out upon a pony.
"Mama see!" he said with great delight upon noticing her presence. Her boy was tall for his age and upon a horse, he looked very regal.
As a tear rolled down her cheeks she repeated to herself what she needed to say more regularly, "He is not his father. He is Philip, not Andrew."
As she stepped closer she pushed her troubled heart aside to become a mother.
