Chapter Three

"My God, Darce, now you've really done it."

Darcy blinked. Very rarely did Bingley have such an exasperated tone in conversation with him.

"What have I done?"

"Gone and ticked off the mother of Miss Bennet, who I was rather hoping to get to know better."

"Oh, please, Charles. The fact that the woman gave Mr. Darcy the cut direct is not exactly indicative of a well-ordered mind. It seems to me that you have avoided the most inconvenient of acquaintances." Darcy could feel the intensity of Miss Bingley's stare on him but kept his eyes trained on the inky blackness of the twilight through the large window in Netherfield's largest parlor.

Even though he was almost entirely turned away, Darcy could see Bingley's uncharacteristic frown. "She gave you the cut direct?"

"Yes," Darcy said, unconcerned.

"You are aware she is one of the principal families in the neighborhood I now reside in, yes? What could you have possibly done that was so bad?"

A tense pause. Darcy turned to face Bingley et al.

"Do you remember the–er–discussion we had about one of Miss Bennet's sisters?"

Bingley's face went white. "You mean to say that she heard you calling her daughter ugly?"

"No, and I didn't call her ugly; I called her tolerable," Darcy said before amending, "I believe the younger Miss Bennet might have overheard us." He remembered clearly catching the lady's dark, glittering eyes and then flushed at the recollection. He had known that she could hear them, just as he had known it was impolite (not to mention dishonest) to say.

"Good lord," Bingley said, looking almost amused, "It's that natural Darcy charm, is it?"

"Well, I don't see what's so wrong with being called tolerable," Miss Bingley sniffed, walking nearer to Darcy, who stiffened uncomfortably, "It must be considered a compliment, especially coming from you, Mr. Darcy."

"Yes, definitely, Caroline," her brother said, now unmistakably amused. "I'd like to imagine you would be perfectly composed and flattered if Darcy called you tolerable."

Darcy refused to take the bait. Miss Bingley shot daggers at Bingley and then Mrs. Hurst, who snorted and immediately staged a coughing fit.

"Well, anyhow," said Bingley hastily, moving to stand between his two sisters and glancing desperately over at the slumbering Mr. Hurst on the settee, "There's nothing for it, Darce. You're going to have to apologize."

Loud protests from Miss Bingley drowned out Darcy's "I beg your pardon?" both of which were ignored by their host.

"Look, you've slighted the sister of a lady I'd like to be better acquainted with," Bingley said in an un-Bingley serious way, "Not to mention, she's very well-liked by the whole neighborhood: I heard not one bad report about her, except for her protectiveness toward her sisters which reveals an affection towards her family that is very pleasing. In any case, I can hardly live in a place where my presence is a painful reminder of an insult to one of the principal families, can I?"

Darcy knew his friend was right. He also didn't want to make Bingley's stay in the country, no matter how short-lived, unpleasant because of an oversight on his part.

So, to the protestations of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, who saw groveling beneath them, agreed to call on Miss Elizabeth and her sisters the following day.

"He's just what a young man ought to be, Lizzy," said Jane the morning after the Meryton assembly. The eldest Bennet sisters were employed in overseeing the arrangement of baskets for their tenants and finally had a moment alone to discuss the previous night's engagements. "Sensible, good-humored, lively–and I never saw such happy manners!"

"He is also handsome," Elizabeth said, smiling, "which a young man ought likewise to be if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete."

"Lizzy!" Jane brought her hand to her mouth, covering an indulgent smile, and looking away from the basket she was supposed to be approving, "I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I did not expect such a compliment."

"Did not you? I did for you. Compliments always take you by surprise and me never. But what could have been more natural than asking you a second time? He could not help but notice that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman in the room. Yes, I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person."

"Dearest Lizzy, how you like to jest."

"Truly, Jane, I am not. I would have been greatly affronted, you know, if he hadn't asked for your hand the second time. The first, of course, was most gallant of him. He asked me one time too, you know, and it's been said I'm only tolerable. The second showed a real preference."

"It was very wrong of Mr. Darcy to say that, Lizzy. Not to mention, wholly without basis." Jane's features were contorted with genuine sympathy, and Elizabeth wished she hadn't brought it up at all.

"Ah, well," Elizabeth grinned, hoping to convince Jane that her equilibrium had been entirely recovered after the insults of the previous night, "Now I have the advantage of knowing at least one man in my acquaintance that is not desirous of the money I'd bring to the match. Not that it is a match for 10,000 a year!" she raised her voice in an imitation of the shrill gossipers from last night.

"I hope you are not speaking of that odious man, Miss Lizzy." Their mother had bustled into the room carrying a load of wildflowers the younger girls had gathered that morning.

"Only in passing, Mama."

"Pray, do not mention him at all! I will never recover from the insults of last night."

"One would think," Elizabeth said in a slightly raised tone, "That you had been the receiver of the slight."

"Oh my dear, no, but I was paid the greatest insult! To have one's daughter called ugly–why, I have never been so offended in my life."

Jane made a meaningful look at Elizabeth and busied herself with dispersing the flowers in the baskets.

"I found it rather refreshing, Mama," Elizabeth said, maintaining a perfectly straight face, "To meet a man who was not immediately in pursuit of my dowry. At least now we can begin our acquaintance on equal terms without care to the trivialities of money."

"How can you think that Elizabeth, when–," Mrs. Bennet's eyes narrowed. "You are speaking in jest."

"Yes, Mama."

"Pray do not tease your mother like that. She is but an old woman, merely trying to get her five daughters well-matched and settled before she departs this earth."

"You are hardly an old woman, Mama," said Jane with a gentleness Elizabeth would not have had, "and you are in perfect health."

"Oh my dear, you are too kind. When a lady has five grown-up daughters, however, she ought not to make pretensions to any sort of youth."

"You could have had only four grown-up daughters if you had waited a year or two for Lydia to enter society," Elizabeth snapped, unable to contain herself.

"Don't take that tone with me, Miss Lizzy," her mother responded in kind, "What was the point of keeping her in? She was so lonely in the schoolroom and jealous of you all for your parties and balls. Now at least I know she won't do something foolish such as trying to sneak out." And from that, Elizabeth suspected her mother still blamed her for the events of last year when Lydia had, in fact, tried to sneak out to an assembly her sisters were all in attendance.

"She could still do something foolish such as elope," Elizabeth retorted brazenly and was gratified by Jane's shocked gasp.

"She could," Her mother admitted, "but as with all of you, the money is not to be settled upon her without the express approval of one or both of her parents–or until she reaches her majority, which is safely half a dozen years away."

"Very clever," said Elizabeth with asperity, "If only you could be certain that if Lydia did happen to fall in love at an age past her majority, that the subject of her heart would be a very wealthy, very titled man."

Mrs. Bennet's eyebrows raised. "Of course, I can't be certain of that, Elizabeth. No one can. I can only be certain that my daughters will not be denied an offer of marriage on account of a lack of money. We may not be of the first circles or even extraordinarily wealthy, but no one will accuse my girls of not being cared for."

A bit of silence followed that incredible speech. Elizabeth stared at her mother, openmouthed. Jane recovered first.

"No one could accuse you of that, Mama," Jane said gently, reaching out her open hand to take one of her mother's. "You have been generous indeed in your care for us."

Their mother sniffed. "Of course I have. How many other mothers do you know that forfeit so much of their own money for their daughters? Now, girls, really–do hurry up with those baskets so we might distribute them on time."

The eldest Miss Bennets watched their mother go, purpose and verve in her step.

Jane shook her head and arranged vegetables and bread in the basket before her. Elizabeth picked up a cluster of flowers tied together with a bit of twine.

"Poor Mama," Jane said quietly, "Always so caught up in ensuring our future security, she cannot enjoy her own. We won't be so very poor entering the marriage state, will we?"

"No, indeed," Elizabeth said, arranging the flowers in the bouquet she was holding, "With the initial £2000 Mama and Papa settled on us plus the 150 our Uncles gifted us invested at the time of our birth, we'd have over six times what Mama had when she married Papa–provided we all marry around your age, dearest. But with the combined 15 pounds a month between Uncles Phillips and Gardiner and Papa and Mama–well. If you were to marry your Mr. Bingley tomorrow, you'd be bringing just over 34,000 pounds to the marriage, assuming an average return on investment of ten percent."

Jane blushed in her Jane-like way. "He's not my Mr. Bingley, Lizzy."

"Oh," Elizabeth could not help but smile, "I think he is. Or he very soon will be."

The two sisters smiled at each other. Then, "How did you calculate my settlement so quickly?"

"Oh." It was Elizabeth's turn to blush. "I did it last night after the assembly. I've never felt that I've had a sister so close to the precipice of marriage, and I wanted to see what Mama's efforts had amounted to in that quarter."

"Lizzy!" Jane laughed, "How perfectly wrong of you."

"Capital offense!" Elizabeth joked, twirling the bouquet around her wrist.

Mrs. Hill, the longtime housekeeper of Longbourn, materialized at the door.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth," she wheezed, from having run down the stairs, "Two gentlemen here to call on you."

"Two?"

"Yes, Miss Elizabeth, a Mr. Bingley and a Mr. Darcy." Mrs. Hill spoke with a hint of disdain, no doubt having heard the tragic tale of the slights of last evening.

A look was exchanged between the sisters. "Tell them we'll be right up, Hill," Jane said, grabbing Elizabeth's hand. In her other, the bouquet of flowers remained, quite forgotten.

Elizabeth and Jane ascended the steps, minds racing with possibilities, yet neither could have fathomed the truth of the matter.


Author's Note (April 7, 2022)

This section was updated on the above date after a prudent observation by multiple readers: it makes sense that Uncle Gardiner would have recommended the investment of the girl's dowries. In addition, I've thrown in 5 pounds per month for each girl from Mr. Bennet and an additional £1 per month from Mr. Gardiner, which rounds it out at a nice £15/month (£180/year). I've also updated the initial amount from 1500 to 2150, assuming that Uncle Gardiner contributed £100 and Uncle Phillips £50 to each girl on their birth. Mrs. Bennet persuaded her husband to put down another £500 on each girl, which puts us at 2150 pounds as the initial sum. The historical return on investment rate is a respectable 10 percent, so I used that as the average. That, of course, more than tripled the dowries, which makes the story so much more interesting. Thanks, everyone!