As planned, the ladies both managed to attend dinner on Saturday, and she was happy to see Jane talking quietly with Mr. Bingley. They would share conversation across the table about the commonplaces, and Mr. Darcy contributed his fair share, but they seemed to spend more time talking quietly to each other than the rest of the table. They were not oblivious enough to be considered impolite, but it was clear that neither of them was really giving the rest of the party even half of their attention.
Elizabeth was happy to see Jane was giving Mr. Bingley the full attention he deserved. Elizabeth wondered if perhaps her mother was right, and this interval might just be the trick to get them closer together. It sometimes pained her to think of her mother as a wise old sage, but in this case, it was entirely possible. Of course, she thought if it did turn out to be the case, it was just as likely to be Charlotte and Sally's agreement that Jane should show her feelings, more than the lady's presence in Netherfield. However, if their relationship did progress, Elizabeth would not complain about the methods. Mr. Bingley seemed a nice amiable gentleman, and the only concern Elizabeth might have about a match between the gentleman and her sister might be that they were both too nice. However, common sense said that there were worse problems a couple could have, and it was none of Elizabeth's business anyway.
Around halfway through the meal, Mr. Hurst surprised her by suddenly blurting out, "I see you are not quite so opposed to a ragout as you earlier asserted, Miss Elizabeth."
Elizabeth looked down at her plate, which she had hardly paid any attention to. She was not exactly shocked to see the rich dish there, but she had been eating without paying too much attention, and if the gentleman had not mentioned it, she would have been unable five minutes later to recall what had been served.
"You mistake me, Mr. Hurst. I did not say that I did not like ragout… just that I generally prefer a plain dish."
She leaned over conspiratorially, and whispered, "May I tell you a shocking secret, sir?"
Mr. Hurst liked both the Bennet ladies. The eldest Miss Bennet was pretty, and quite possibly the least offensive person he had ever met. The second, was generally quite witty in the few conversations he had with her when Darcy was not about. He replied in kind, "I shall carry it to the grave, Miss Elizabeth."
"Our cook makes an atrocious ragout, Sir, but I do not have the courage to say it aloud to her. I generally prefer a plain dish because it is safer."
Hurst let out a burst of laughter, probably out of proportion to the jest, but he liked to get what he could when he could. He mostly had to amuse himself by needling Darcy, but never when the Miss Bennets were about.
"And cards, Miss Bennet. Are you as opposed to cards as my sister in law supposed?"
"No, Sir. I was simply taking pity on you. It is unladylike to gloat over an easy victory."
Hurst chuckled once again. He spent much of the rest of the meal conversing with Miss Elizabeth, and Darcy joined in as often as he could, and even the two Bingley sisters seemed to be in a better mood than usual.
The separation of the sexes left the gentlemen to their port and cigars, while the ladies tried their best to remain on cordial terms. Jane, of course, had no trouble conversing with the Bingley sisters, and Elizabeth had to wonder about the conundrum of the Bingley sisters. Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh at their acquaintance with spirit. When not in company with the men, and not feeling insecure, Elizabeth could see quite well why Jane liked the ladies. She liked them well enough herself when they were in a likable mood.
Unlike Elizabeth, Jane had never been subject to the more mean‑spirited side of what Elizabeth liked to call the Superior Sisters, and Elizabeth was in a bit of a quandary about whether she should give Jane fair warning or not. In the end, she decided it was pointless. Jane would find out about them on her own soon enough, and Elizabeth had her own problems to deal with… namely, a certain dark-haired gentleman that she had not the slightest idea what to do with.
The gentlemen soon joined them in the parlor. Mr. Bingley spend the first half hour making sure Jane was well comforted, moving her chair to the best spot, building up the fire, then moving the chair away when his fire exceeded his expectations, and twittering around her like a happy little bird. Elizabeth was quite amused by the entire display, and she was also exceedingly happy to see Jane seeming to make a bit more of an effort than she usually did.
With good looks, and a mother who trumpeted them to the world at every turn, Jane had learned to hide within herself. She usually found it best to treat everyone the same, regardless of how she felt about them. It worked well for the callow youths that had swarmed around her like bees when she first came out. It worked well for the gentlemen who were far too old for her and should have known better, but frequently did not. It worked well to keep petty jealousy and rivalries from building up among the ladies of her acquaintance, because all of them truly knew that Jane would give them the coat off her back on the slightest need.
The strategy worked quite well, except when there was a true suitor about. When that happened, most men found they did not really have the courage to squeeze past what they saw as her indifference. There was a wide gap between acceptable behavior and what Jane usually practiced, so showing just a bit more emotion without showing too much was in fact something that Jane could do, and Elizabeth was happy to see her trying.
"They seem to get on well, do they not?"
Elizabeth jumped at the unexpected words, and the gentleman continued, "My apologies, Miss Elizabeth. I did not announce my presence. I did not mean to startle you."
Elizabeth just smiled at him and laughed. She wondered if she should go back for the pencil and try to make a tally of Mr. Darcy's apologies.
"No need to apologize, Mr. Darcy. I was just woolgathering."
The man smiled, and nodded, then looked back over towards Miss Bennet and Miss Bingley with a small smile still on his face.
"To answer your question, Mr. Darcy. I would never break a sister's confidence, but I believe they do in fact get on well. Whether it ever turns into more or less than that is far beyond my ability or desire to influence. I am just glad to see my sister well and happy."
Darcy looked at her slightly seriously and replied, "I am happy to see it myself, and I have no more need to meddle than you. I can tell you that Bingley and your sister have something in common besides their personalities."
Elizabeth was a bit concerned by the pensive look on the gentleman's face, and asked, "What might that be, Sir?"
"They both know what it is to be hunted for their looks."
Elizabeth gasped at the directness of the statement. She looked around to be sure nobody else was listening. She was not shocked by the assertion, nor was she distressed… but she was surprised that Mr. Darcy felt comfortable enough around her to voice such a sentiment.
She finally recovered her voice sufficient to reply, and said, "I believe you may be right, Mr. Darcy. I imagine time will tell."
"It usually does, Miss Elizabeth."
Elizabeth wondered what to do next, but Mr. Darcy apparently had his own ideas.
"Miss Elizabeth, would you care for a game of chess?"
Elizabeth was once again surprised, but not particularly distressed. She was finding her tendency to worry about every single interaction with the gentleman was being reduced through exposure. It was becoming clear that he would say things that might be considered shocking in society at large, apparently because he trusted her to react well, but he would not really go farther. She was convinced of that. She still worried about how she would handle learning about his sister, if she ever did, but Georgiana Darcy was not here, and for the first time in some months, Elizabeth thought she could just forget about her for an hour or two.
"I would be delighted, Mr. Darcy. Let me just get a paper to keep track of wins and losses so I do not embarrass you."
Mr. Darcy laughed along with her and went over to take up the game. She won the draw for white, so made her opening move and commenced playing. Her father taught her that she had to play both the board and the opponent. There were entirely too many possible combinations to take every possible move into account, but you could make a good beginning by studying your opponent. Early in a competition, you had to play the board, but you had to gradually learn how your opponent thought. Pay too much or too little to the board or the opponent, and you would lose your way.
The game started out mild, as most did. Mr. Darcy turned out to be a cautious, thoughtful and defensive player. Elizabeth tended to be an aggressive risk‑taker. This was more of an advantage to her than it would be for a man, since her risks were reduced by most men not taking her seriously. Mr. Darcy probably would have fallen victim to her quickly, had he not been forewarned by her father. Elizabeth thought that should count as cheating, but she was not a whinger.
The first game ended after a half‑hour with a draw. Elizabeth won the second game surprisingly quickly with a daring move that the apparently plodding Sir William had taught her. She became a bit overconfident, and Mr. Darcy showed he could pull out a daring streak when the occasion demanded, and he defeated her just about an hour and a half after they had started. They were now tied, but by mutual consent, agreed that a rematch would have to be delayed.
Elizabeth went over to check on Jane. She found Jane happy, but fading quickly, and insisted that it was time for them to retire.
Morning found both ladies well refreshed, and they managed to enjoy a leisurely breakfast before church. Jane did not feel quite up to being in that much company, so she and Elizabeth decided to stay at Netherfield while their hosts attended services.
Upon their return, they asked Mr. Bingley if he would kindly convey them back to Longbourn. The gentleman looked like he would prefer to cut off a limb than agree to the plan, but he acquiesced.
They were nearing the bottom of the steps, and Miss Bingley curtsied and said, "Farewell, Miss Eliz… Miss Elizabeth."
The near miss with the name 'Eliza' left Miss Bingley embarrassed, a state that Elizabeth would have happily sworn was impossible the day before, so she took pity on her.
"Miss Bingley, might we call a truce?"
The lady looked at Elizabeth with her eyes crossed in perplexity, and asked, "A truce?"
Elizabeth sighed, and thought she may as well come clean.
"Miss Bingley, I feel I owe you a confession. On Thursday, I overheard much of your conversation in the parlor. I admit it left me feeling quite peevish, and I took it out on you. However, yesterday, your company was lovely and very enjoyable, so I know you can be amiable when you want to. Perhaps… well, perhaps…"
At that point, she mostly ran out of words, suffering from a bit of embarrassment herself.
Once again, Miss Bingley surprised her by replying, "I like your idea of a truce, Miss Elizabeth. Being at odds is doing neither of us any good."
Elizabeth looked at the lady and gave her a genuine smile. Perhaps, Miss Bingley was not quite what her first impressions had led her to believe. It would not be the first time she had been harmed by an incorrect first impression. Neither lady had made an actual apology, but Elizabeth thought they could both probably get along without it if they worked at it.
"I would like that, Miss Bingley. I would like it very much. Would you care to join us for dinner sometime during the week? My mother would love to have you, although you will have to endure quite an interrogation about your lace. My father is unlikely to even notice one or two more ladies at the table."
Miss Bingley gave a short laugh, and a true smile remained on her lips. It was not the carefully cultivated titter she was taught at the seminary, but a more girlish and possibly truer approximation of true humor.
"I would be delighted, Miss Elizabeth. Are you inviting just me, or the entire party?"
Elizabeth looked carefully at the lady, and said, "Just you and your sister this time. My mother will invite the entire party every day of the week if she can get away with it, but I believe Jane and I would enjoy some time with just your company, and perhaps you will find some of my sisters to your liking. Stranger things have happened."
Miss Bingley gave Elizabeth a smile, and replied, "Louisa and I will be happy to attend you. The gentlemen are dining with the officers again on Thursday. Will that suit?"
"We shall look forward to it."
The ladies curtsied, both quite surprised by the turn of events. Neither of them quite knew how the conversation had left their planned course of events so thoroughly, both were uncertain where it would lead, but both were also provisionally willing to try to establish a friendship of sorts.
Elizabeth thought, 'perhaps, there is more to Miss Bingley than meets the eye', and walked towards the awaiting coach just in time to see Mr. Bingley hand Jane in.
As Elizabeth approached the coach, Mr. Darcy came up beside her.
"Miss Elizabeth, I hope your sister is well recovered."
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I believe she is. I should also thank you for making my stay here easier, Sir."
Darcy just chuckled, and replied, "It was my pleasure, Madam."
Elizabeth was just about to step in, but Mr. Darcy was not quite finished.
"Miss Elizabeth, if I am not prying too much, I noticed you speaking for some time with Miss Bingley."
Elizabeth could see that he was curious, but that was as close to prying as he was likely to get.
Elizabeth just laughed and replied, "I shall be happy to explain, Mr. Darcy. You see, we had two motives. The first is because we are in each other's confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss. The second is because we are conscious that our figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking, so the stairs seemed a logical place to discuss them."
Elizabeth laughed along with the gentleman, and for a moment –for just the tiniest space of time– Elizabeth Bennet lived in a bubble of happiness that did not allow thoughts of Ramsgate or pain or fear to intrude. She was having a good laugh with a handsome and honorable man, her sister had recovered her health, she may have just made a new friend; and nothing could spoil it for a short while.
Mr. Darcy handed her up into the carriage, she tucked Jane's rug tightly around her, waved to all her friends, and returned to Longbourn.