Chapter Four
Their aunt had insisted on taking Jane and Elizabeth to the dances at the London Assembly Rooms. Her argument made sense – they were well over the respectable mourning period now, and they had not been anywhere to speak of for an age, it would be good for them, and she wanted to introduce them to some people of substance – who were not the fishmonger's son, besotted with Jane, or the local carpenter, fascinated by Elizabeth. At least she had decided not to take Lydia and Kitty, who protested vigorously, but were still denied the treat.
Reluctantly Jane and Elizabeth put on their fine dresses once again and did their hair. It would be strange to enter into society again. Jane hardly thought of it, bless her, but Elizabeth was deeply mortified at the dresses they were obliged to wear; at the very least, two years out of date by town standards. Jane did not speak of it, but she had an excited air about her that Elizabeth could read – Jane knew about the possibility of meeting Mr Bingley at the dance. However, all that was in Elizabeth's mind was perhaps seeing Miss Bingley, and watching her take in the lowering of the Bennet sisters, and silently mocking their apparel, and secretly rejoicing in everything about their situation. And then there was the possibility of seeing Mr Darcy again. She hoped with all her heart that he would not be there – it would be much too much to bear.
They hung back slightly when stepping out of the carriage that evening, but Mrs Gardiner pulled them on. "I know you are nervous, girls, but I am sure you will enjoy yourselves. Just try to relax. Agreed?"
They nodded, and determined not to let her down, marched up the steps confidently.
The feeling didn't last too long as they entered the sumptuous rooms, took off their wraps, and heard a girl nearby whisper, "Would you look at those country girls? Why, those dresses must have been made last century!"
However, another voice shushed her. "Quiet, Maria, you stupid girl! Why should you care? At least they don't have ugly great freckles like you!" They turned to see who had taken their side, and were just in time to see a mischievous smile, chestnut hair, and dimples before the girl rushed off in a whirl of blue satin, leaving the unfortunately spotted girl to rage.
Elizabeth nearly laughed out loud then, but she had to stifle rude retorts many times as she continuously picked out strains of conversation about herself – "who are they?" "they look so countrified!" "what on earth do they think they're doing here?" "I somehow doubt they'll dance tonight!" – while Jane smiled placidly, completely unaware of what was going on.
Elizabeth had finally had enough of being whispered about by malicious tongues, and of sitting on the side of the dance floor and doing nothing, and got up with the excuse of finding a drink. Where was that chestnut- haired girl? It was when she rounded the corner into the next room that she walked straight into Mr Darcy.
"Miss Bennet!" he said in as close to a gasp as such a man can get, a deep blush slowly covering his face.
Oh no, oh no, oh no! Why did he have to be there?! Elizabeth couldn't help but go red as all her memories from Kent flooded back in on her. "Mr Darcy," she said uncertainly, and curtsied, keeping her eyes off his face.
He seemed to remember his manners, and bowed. "Forgive me, but why are you here in London?" he said in a much warmer tone of voice.
She looked up at him, confused. Why did he sound so friendly? Wouldn't he want to flee, like anyone sensible would? "My sisters and I live here now."
He was puzzled. "Again I am sorry, but why?"
She tried to smile. "Our father and mother died several months ago. We are now living with our aunt and uncle – in Gracechurch Street."
He looked visibly taken aback. "Good God, I never heard anything about it! I am so sorry, Miss Bennet!"
She smiled tentatively.
He looked completely shocked. "You will not be wishing to talk about it, I am sure. How are your sisters?"
Since when was he so sensitive? thought Elizabeth. "They are well, thank you, sir. My sister Jane accompanies me here tonight, with my aunt."
He looked a little conscious as she mentioned Jane. "I have not met your aunt, I think. Will you introduce me to her?"
Now she was completely confused. He, deigning to be introduced to her lowly Gracechurch-Street-dwelling aunt? "Of course. She is through here."
He followed her through the room, and although she was on tenterhooks and as embarrassed as she could possibly be at seeing him again, there was no way any girl could not gloat over the way all the young women who had previously scorned her were now staring in amazement as the elegant, handsome and rich Mr Darcy strolled through the crowd with that countrified girl. "Of course," said one, "she is very pretty, despite those clothes."
Jane was surprised to see Mr Darcy, although she was very calm as she stood and curtsied and said "Good evening, Mr Darcy." Elizabeth then introduced him to her aunt, who she was pleased to note was proof of the gentility of some of her relations. He was perfectly amiable towards Mrs Gardiner, and she was obviously intelligent and relaxed, and the two chatted for some time before Mr Darcy turned to Elizabeth and Jane and said those magic words.
"I know you have not seen my friend Bingley for some time. He would be very angry with me if I did not take you to see him tonight. Will you come now?"
It was the closest to joy Jane had come in the last six months, and Elizabeth could not help but grin when she saw the quiet sparkle in Jane's eyes. She noticed Mr Darcy looking closely at Jane to wager her response, and was pleased to see a slightly abashed look in his eyes as he saw for the first time the subtlety of Jane's joy. Jane seemed incapable of speech, and so Elizabeth answered. "Yes, we should like very much to see Mr Bingley again." She paused, and a thought struck her. "Are his sisters here?" she asked apprehensively.
"No," Mr Darcy said, with a very slight smile, and a look in his eyes that unmistakeably said, 'And thank heaven, too!' "Miss Bingley and the Hursts are spending some time at the Hurst estate in Oxfordshire."
"Oh, what a pity, it would have been lovely to see them again," said Jane genuinely, quite forgetting how cruel Miss Bingley had been to her the last time Jane had visited London.
Elizabeth couldn't help smiling at her aunt, who had heard a lot from Elizabeth about the conceit of Mr Bingley's sisters.
Mr Darcy took her arm and Jane's and led them off to the other side of the room, and through a stately arched doorway. They saw Mr Bingley before he saw them. Elizabeth heard Jane utter a little gasp as they beheld him, chatting animatedly to a friend they had never seen before, and then turning around to greet his eldest friend. They watched his friendly smile change to an open-mouthed beam of surprise. He stood up, and made his way to them, wide-eyed. "Miss Bennet!" Then he remembered his manners after a pause spent gazing rapturously at Jane. "Miss Elizabeth! What a delightful surprise!"
"I found them in the other room, Bingley," said Mr Darcy. "And I knew you would want to see them."
"Of course I would," said Mr Bingley with a quick smile at Elizabeth before transferring his broad grin back to Jane. "How do you come to be in London?"
Jane and Elizabeth both looked at each other quickly before lowering their eyes. Doubtless they were going to have to make this explanation many times, and already had, but it was so difficult. To Elizabeth's amazement, Mr Darcy rescued them. "They have been living here for some time now, Charles. Their parents sadly died several months ago."
If Mr Darcy had been shocked, Mr Bingley surpassed him. He could not speak for several moments. "Oh, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I – I do not know what to say! What a terrible shock!" he cried in evident grief, and sat down. "You know, when I think of Hertfordshire, I think of your family, and – it's just too much to take!"
Elizabeth too found it all very hard to take – for the seemingly thousandth time. She knew he was sincere and she was touched by his feelings, but it seemed like every part of her life had to be darkened by the deaths now. She couldn't escape them. Everywhere she went, it would come out, and she would be plunged into misery again. She tried to sniff quietly, and felt tears springing to her eyes, and looked away quickly. Jane was answering him and thanking him for his sentiments, so at least she did not need to say anything.
But she felt a hand touching her shoulder. "Miss Bennet?" And the same hand passed her his handkerchief, soft and elegant, with the initials F. J. D. sewn on in curling letters.
"Thank you," she whispered, holding Mr Darcy's handkerchief to her eyes momentarily.
"Not at all," he said politely, and turned his face away to give her some space to recover.
Again she was touched by his sensitivity.
After a while, she looked up, noticed the crowd had parted slightly, and saw a woman, sitting across the room from them, staring at her with a stricken look on her face. She felt uncomfortable under that gaze, and when it did not cease after several moments of trying to ignore it, she whispered to Mr Darcy, (Jane and Bingley had gone off to dance), "Who is that woman, the one staring at me?"
Darcy looked across. For a moment he stood still. "That is my aunt, Lady Matlock. She is the mother of Colonel Fitzwilliam." He paused. "Will you let me introduce you to her?"
She was apprehensive of it, but Elizabeth Bennet was not one to shrink from challenges. "I would be honoured."
They stood in front of the countess after weaving their way through the crowd of people. "Aunt, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Bennet, this is my aunt, the countess of Matlock."
Elizabeth curtsied low, hoping she was not embarrassing herself. "Lady Matlock." She stole a quick glance up at the woman. Lady Matlock was very handsome and slim for an older woman. She wore a magnificent gown of the latest fashion, and had immaculate brown hair which was just starting to yield to grey. She looked every bit the commander, but if Elizabeth was not mistaken, she had a touch of vulnerability in her eyes.
"Miss Bennet," said the countess. "Forgive me for staring before – you must have noticed – but you remind me very much of someone – and so does your sister, I think it must be, who has just gone with Mr Bingley?"
Elizabeth was surprised. "Oh no, my sister Jane and I don't look very much alike at all," she began to say.
"No, no," said Lady Matlock with a smile. "I mean you remind me of two separate people. I just cannot think who."
Mr Darcy was eager to help. "Could it be Lady Monroe, aunt? She has a nose very similar to Miss Elizabeth."
"No, not Lady Monroe," said Lady Matlock, her eyes still fixed on Elizabeth. "It is the eyes."
"Oh well," said Darcy seriously, "I cannot help you there. I have never seen the like of Miss Bennet's eyes-"He broke off suddenly, almost blushing, if that were possible.
The countess was amused. "And your sister, Miss Jane Bennet – she has a charm to her that I am sure I have seen somewhere before – meaning no offence to your sister, of course, for that is a very unique charm. I don't think I have met you before, have I, dear?" she added somewhat anxiously.
"No," smiled Elizabeth.
"No, I would have remembered you if I had. Such beautiful eyes!" The woman narrowed her eyes again, and then sighed. "It is right on the tip of my brain. I cannot think of it now."
Mr Darcy spoke up. "She looks like Rosalind a little, aunt."
The countess' head snapped up. "Why, yes," she said slowly. "So she does. But that is not precisely who she makes me think of."
"Lady Rosalind Fitzwilliam is my cousin," explained Mr Darcy to Elizabeth, "Lady Matlock's youngest child."
Their aunt had insisted on taking Jane and Elizabeth to the dances at the London Assembly Rooms. Her argument made sense – they were well over the respectable mourning period now, and they had not been anywhere to speak of for an age, it would be good for them, and she wanted to introduce them to some people of substance – who were not the fishmonger's son, besotted with Jane, or the local carpenter, fascinated by Elizabeth. At least she had decided not to take Lydia and Kitty, who protested vigorously, but were still denied the treat.
Reluctantly Jane and Elizabeth put on their fine dresses once again and did their hair. It would be strange to enter into society again. Jane hardly thought of it, bless her, but Elizabeth was deeply mortified at the dresses they were obliged to wear; at the very least, two years out of date by town standards. Jane did not speak of it, but she had an excited air about her that Elizabeth could read – Jane knew about the possibility of meeting Mr Bingley at the dance. However, all that was in Elizabeth's mind was perhaps seeing Miss Bingley, and watching her take in the lowering of the Bennet sisters, and silently mocking their apparel, and secretly rejoicing in everything about their situation. And then there was the possibility of seeing Mr Darcy again. She hoped with all her heart that he would not be there – it would be much too much to bear.
They hung back slightly when stepping out of the carriage that evening, but Mrs Gardiner pulled them on. "I know you are nervous, girls, but I am sure you will enjoy yourselves. Just try to relax. Agreed?"
They nodded, and determined not to let her down, marched up the steps confidently.
The feeling didn't last too long as they entered the sumptuous rooms, took off their wraps, and heard a girl nearby whisper, "Would you look at those country girls? Why, those dresses must have been made last century!"
However, another voice shushed her. "Quiet, Maria, you stupid girl! Why should you care? At least they don't have ugly great freckles like you!" They turned to see who had taken their side, and were just in time to see a mischievous smile, chestnut hair, and dimples before the girl rushed off in a whirl of blue satin, leaving the unfortunately spotted girl to rage.
Elizabeth nearly laughed out loud then, but she had to stifle rude retorts many times as she continuously picked out strains of conversation about herself – "who are they?" "they look so countrified!" "what on earth do they think they're doing here?" "I somehow doubt they'll dance tonight!" – while Jane smiled placidly, completely unaware of what was going on.
Elizabeth had finally had enough of being whispered about by malicious tongues, and of sitting on the side of the dance floor and doing nothing, and got up with the excuse of finding a drink. Where was that chestnut- haired girl? It was when she rounded the corner into the next room that she walked straight into Mr Darcy.
"Miss Bennet!" he said in as close to a gasp as such a man can get, a deep blush slowly covering his face.
Oh no, oh no, oh no! Why did he have to be there?! Elizabeth couldn't help but go red as all her memories from Kent flooded back in on her. "Mr Darcy," she said uncertainly, and curtsied, keeping her eyes off his face.
He seemed to remember his manners, and bowed. "Forgive me, but why are you here in London?" he said in a much warmer tone of voice.
She looked up at him, confused. Why did he sound so friendly? Wouldn't he want to flee, like anyone sensible would? "My sisters and I live here now."
He was puzzled. "Again I am sorry, but why?"
She tried to smile. "Our father and mother died several months ago. We are now living with our aunt and uncle – in Gracechurch Street."
He looked visibly taken aback. "Good God, I never heard anything about it! I am so sorry, Miss Bennet!"
She smiled tentatively.
He looked completely shocked. "You will not be wishing to talk about it, I am sure. How are your sisters?"
Since when was he so sensitive? thought Elizabeth. "They are well, thank you, sir. My sister Jane accompanies me here tonight, with my aunt."
He looked a little conscious as she mentioned Jane. "I have not met your aunt, I think. Will you introduce me to her?"
Now she was completely confused. He, deigning to be introduced to her lowly Gracechurch-Street-dwelling aunt? "Of course. She is through here."
He followed her through the room, and although she was on tenterhooks and as embarrassed as she could possibly be at seeing him again, there was no way any girl could not gloat over the way all the young women who had previously scorned her were now staring in amazement as the elegant, handsome and rich Mr Darcy strolled through the crowd with that countrified girl. "Of course," said one, "she is very pretty, despite those clothes."
Jane was surprised to see Mr Darcy, although she was very calm as she stood and curtsied and said "Good evening, Mr Darcy." Elizabeth then introduced him to her aunt, who she was pleased to note was proof of the gentility of some of her relations. He was perfectly amiable towards Mrs Gardiner, and she was obviously intelligent and relaxed, and the two chatted for some time before Mr Darcy turned to Elizabeth and Jane and said those magic words.
"I know you have not seen my friend Bingley for some time. He would be very angry with me if I did not take you to see him tonight. Will you come now?"
It was the closest to joy Jane had come in the last six months, and Elizabeth could not help but grin when she saw the quiet sparkle in Jane's eyes. She noticed Mr Darcy looking closely at Jane to wager her response, and was pleased to see a slightly abashed look in his eyes as he saw for the first time the subtlety of Jane's joy. Jane seemed incapable of speech, and so Elizabeth answered. "Yes, we should like very much to see Mr Bingley again." She paused, and a thought struck her. "Are his sisters here?" she asked apprehensively.
"No," Mr Darcy said, with a very slight smile, and a look in his eyes that unmistakeably said, 'And thank heaven, too!' "Miss Bingley and the Hursts are spending some time at the Hurst estate in Oxfordshire."
"Oh, what a pity, it would have been lovely to see them again," said Jane genuinely, quite forgetting how cruel Miss Bingley had been to her the last time Jane had visited London.
Elizabeth couldn't help smiling at her aunt, who had heard a lot from Elizabeth about the conceit of Mr Bingley's sisters.
Mr Darcy took her arm and Jane's and led them off to the other side of the room, and through a stately arched doorway. They saw Mr Bingley before he saw them. Elizabeth heard Jane utter a little gasp as they beheld him, chatting animatedly to a friend they had never seen before, and then turning around to greet his eldest friend. They watched his friendly smile change to an open-mouthed beam of surprise. He stood up, and made his way to them, wide-eyed. "Miss Bennet!" Then he remembered his manners after a pause spent gazing rapturously at Jane. "Miss Elizabeth! What a delightful surprise!"
"I found them in the other room, Bingley," said Mr Darcy. "And I knew you would want to see them."
"Of course I would," said Mr Bingley with a quick smile at Elizabeth before transferring his broad grin back to Jane. "How do you come to be in London?"
Jane and Elizabeth both looked at each other quickly before lowering their eyes. Doubtless they were going to have to make this explanation many times, and already had, but it was so difficult. To Elizabeth's amazement, Mr Darcy rescued them. "They have been living here for some time now, Charles. Their parents sadly died several months ago."
If Mr Darcy had been shocked, Mr Bingley surpassed him. He could not speak for several moments. "Oh, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I – I do not know what to say! What a terrible shock!" he cried in evident grief, and sat down. "You know, when I think of Hertfordshire, I think of your family, and – it's just too much to take!"
Elizabeth too found it all very hard to take – for the seemingly thousandth time. She knew he was sincere and she was touched by his feelings, but it seemed like every part of her life had to be darkened by the deaths now. She couldn't escape them. Everywhere she went, it would come out, and she would be plunged into misery again. She tried to sniff quietly, and felt tears springing to her eyes, and looked away quickly. Jane was answering him and thanking him for his sentiments, so at least she did not need to say anything.
But she felt a hand touching her shoulder. "Miss Bennet?" And the same hand passed her his handkerchief, soft and elegant, with the initials F. J. D. sewn on in curling letters.
"Thank you," she whispered, holding Mr Darcy's handkerchief to her eyes momentarily.
"Not at all," he said politely, and turned his face away to give her some space to recover.
Again she was touched by his sensitivity.
After a while, she looked up, noticed the crowd had parted slightly, and saw a woman, sitting across the room from them, staring at her with a stricken look on her face. She felt uncomfortable under that gaze, and when it did not cease after several moments of trying to ignore it, she whispered to Mr Darcy, (Jane and Bingley had gone off to dance), "Who is that woman, the one staring at me?"
Darcy looked across. For a moment he stood still. "That is my aunt, Lady Matlock. She is the mother of Colonel Fitzwilliam." He paused. "Will you let me introduce you to her?"
She was apprehensive of it, but Elizabeth Bennet was not one to shrink from challenges. "I would be honoured."
They stood in front of the countess after weaving their way through the crowd of people. "Aunt, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Bennet, this is my aunt, the countess of Matlock."
Elizabeth curtsied low, hoping she was not embarrassing herself. "Lady Matlock." She stole a quick glance up at the woman. Lady Matlock was very handsome and slim for an older woman. She wore a magnificent gown of the latest fashion, and had immaculate brown hair which was just starting to yield to grey. She looked every bit the commander, but if Elizabeth was not mistaken, she had a touch of vulnerability in her eyes.
"Miss Bennet," said the countess. "Forgive me for staring before – you must have noticed – but you remind me very much of someone – and so does your sister, I think it must be, who has just gone with Mr Bingley?"
Elizabeth was surprised. "Oh no, my sister Jane and I don't look very much alike at all," she began to say.
"No, no," said Lady Matlock with a smile. "I mean you remind me of two separate people. I just cannot think who."
Mr Darcy was eager to help. "Could it be Lady Monroe, aunt? She has a nose very similar to Miss Elizabeth."
"No, not Lady Monroe," said Lady Matlock, her eyes still fixed on Elizabeth. "It is the eyes."
"Oh well," said Darcy seriously, "I cannot help you there. I have never seen the like of Miss Bennet's eyes-"He broke off suddenly, almost blushing, if that were possible.
The countess was amused. "And your sister, Miss Jane Bennet – she has a charm to her that I am sure I have seen somewhere before – meaning no offence to your sister, of course, for that is a very unique charm. I don't think I have met you before, have I, dear?" she added somewhat anxiously.
"No," smiled Elizabeth.
"No, I would have remembered you if I had. Such beautiful eyes!" The woman narrowed her eyes again, and then sighed. "It is right on the tip of my brain. I cannot think of it now."
Mr Darcy spoke up. "She looks like Rosalind a little, aunt."
The countess' head snapped up. "Why, yes," she said slowly. "So she does. But that is not precisely who she makes me think of."
"Lady Rosalind Fitzwilliam is my cousin," explained Mr Darcy to Elizabeth, "Lady Matlock's youngest child."
