The rest of the Bennet sister's stay went remarkably well. Caroline remained mostly silent during the day and when she spoke it had at least a hint of politeness. The only problem with their stay was when their mother and sisters arrived at Neatherfield.
Mrs. Bennet and her two younger daughters came to Neatherfield on the pretence of checking on Jane. Mrs. Bennet was soon assured that Jane would be fine, but this did not stop her from attempting to keep Jane there as long as possible.
When Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest came downstairs they were met by Bingley, Darcy, Caroline and Elizabeth. They all retired into the sitting room.
"I hope you do not find Miss Bennet worse than expected." Bingley's concern was obvious in his voice.
"Indeed I do, sir. She is far to ill to be moved. I fear we must trespass on your kindness for a while longer." Mrs. Bennet had no intention of having Jane moved. She wished her to stay for as long as possible. Elizabeth knew this and was mortified.
"Removed? I would not hear of it. She shall stay until she is fully recovered." This statement managed to bring relief and happiness to two of the rooms occupants, Mrs. Bennet and Darcy. The latter had not even begun to think of Elizabeth leaving and could not bear to think her leaving so soon. His heart began to bleed at the thought of ever leaving her again.
"Miss Bennet will receive every possible attention while she is here, I assure you." Caroline played her part as hostess. Darcy turned away from Mrs. Bennet. He found nothing likable in her or her two youngest daughters. It pained him to think of them as Elizabeth's family, or as his family. He did not have to aline himself with them, under ordinary circumstances he would not even consider it, but, for Elizabeth, he would endure anything.
He ignored the conversation that was going on. There would be nothing interesting for him. He stood facing the window, but that held little interest for him either. All of his attention was focused on one object, his Elizabeth. He listened closely as she began to speak.
"That is exactly what I had supposed of you." She addressed this to Bingley. Darcy tried to think of what they had been speaking of, but to no avail.
"Ah, you begin to understand me then, do you?" Bingley replied cheerfully, his curiosity perked.
"Yes. I understand you perfectly."
"I should like to take that as a complement, but to be so easily seen through is pitiful, I'm afraid." Bingley gave her a smile to insure her that there was no offence taken. He was actually rather interested in the conversation.
"It does not follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than one such as yours." Bingley was about to reply when Mrs. Bennet beat him to it. She found the conversation tedious and past her level of comprehension. She could not fathom that anyone should enjoy it.
"Lizzy, remember where you are! Do not run off in the wild matter you are suffered to do at home." Bingley and Elizabeth both chose to ignore this speech. The only recognition that it was heard by either of them was the creeping pink flush that rose to her cheeks.
"I did not know that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study." Bingley turned back to Elizabeth, once again showing his amiable nature in trying to remove the tension Mrs. Bennet's words had caused.
"Oh yes. Intricate characters are the most amusing. They have at least that advantage." Darcy's interest was by now fully riveted to the conversation. He enjoyed every new piece of information he learned about her.
"The country can have but a short supply of subjects for such a study. The country seems to be a more confined and unvarying society." 'I have an intricate character' Darcy thought suddenly. He would have no problem in being one of Elizabeth's subjects. So long as she would wish to study him, he would always be available to her, until death do them part.
"But people themselves alter so much. There is always something new to see in them." Darcy had turned to face her and was struck once more by her beauty. He was rendered speechless by the mere sight of her. He could not think of a response. Thankfully (or not so thankfully, depending on how you look at it) he was saved the trouble of finding a response by a very offended Mrs. Bennet.
"I assure you that there is as much of that going on in the country as in town." Mrs. Bennet smiled in triumph as Darcy turned away towards the window. "I cannot see what great advantages London has over the country, other than the shops and public places. The country is a great deal pleasanter is it not Mr. Bingley?" Bingley replied quickly with the hope of removing the tension that had descended upon the room.
"Whenever I am in town I never wish to leave it again. The same applies for the country. They both have their advantages and I am happy in both."
"That is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman there," She indicated Darcy. "seems to think the country nothing at all." Elizabeth was excessively mortified by now and could hardly bear to look Bingley in the eyes, let alone his sister or Darcy.
"Mama, you mistake Mr. Darcy's meaning. He only meant that their was not such a variety of people in the country as in town, which you must acknowledge as true."
He listened with sympathy as she tried to reign her mother in. She was truly a accomplished and well-bred lady; a gentlewoman. He had never before thought it possible to be so much in love or that love should have such a hold over your very actions and thoughts, but he had only just met Elizabeth.
He ignored the conversation once more. He had not a care for Mrs. Bennet's prattling. How she could be related to his Elizabeth he had no idea. He attempted to focus back in to the conversation just in time to hear Mrs. Bennet remark on poetry.
"However, he did write her some very pretty verses."
"And so ended the affection. I wonder who first discovered the power of poetry in driving away love." Darcy gave a mental start. She did not like poetry? This was vital information. He must know all of her likes and dislikes for his courting of her. It would not do to write her a poem only to have her turn away from him in disgust.
"I have always considered poetry to be the food of love."
"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may be. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it is only a vague inclination, I am convicted that one poor sonnet will kill it stone dead." Darcy gave her a smile. He had no worries about poetry. He definitely had no vague inclination. He had a fine, stout and very healthy love burning to be released.
The room lapsed into a comfortable silence. Not that Darcy would have noticed if it was otherwise. His mind was far to wrapped up in thoughts of a particular lady.
Eventually Elizabeth's youngest sister, Lydia, spoke up.
"Did you not promise to hold a ball once you were settled here, Mr. Bingley? It will be a great scandal if you don't keep your word."
"I am perfectly happy to keep my engagement and when Miss Bennet is recovered, you shall name the very day of the ball if you like." The occupants of the room had varying emotions. They were disdain, excitement and mortification. Excitement was the most common emotion felt by nearly every member of the room. Only Elizabeth and Caroline could not join in this excitement. All of the others, excluding Mrs. Bennet, were thinking of the partners that they wished to dance with, and there was no unhappiness in these thoughts.
Mrs. Bennet and her youngest daughters soon took their leave, much to the relief of Elizabeth. Jane and Elizabeth stayed one week after their departure, but soon they had to leave as well. Darcy could not bear the thought of her leaving, but how could he make her stay?
'Propose, right now!'
'Even if we did so, she would still have to leave us. She could not stay in the house with her betrothed.'
'But we would be assured of seeing her again.'
'We will always have assurance of seeing her. Bingley is pursuing her sister. Should they marry we would see her quite often as Bingley's best friend.'
'But would that be enough? Would it be anything less than torture to be able to be so near her, yet separated by the vast gap that propriety instills?'
'I am not recommending that we never ask her. I only meant that we should wait and let her be sure of her feelings.'
'She must love us! How can she not. When our love is so strong?'
'Though we are sure of our feelings, she may not be as confident as us.'
'Time she can have, but she must marry us one day. I could not see a life without her.'
Bingley and Darcy wasted no time in assisting the Bennet sisters into the carriage. Each allowing their hand to linger a little longer than necessary. They stood together on the stair, watching the carriage drive away, taking their hearts with it. Bingley dejectedly moved to the house. Darcy remained rooted to the spot staring into the distance long after the carriage had moved out of sight. He felt the wind stir around him and he thought he could smell a faint trace of her. He closed his eyes lost in the moment. She would come back, he told himself. She had to come back. If she didn't he would have to go and fetch her himself. For there was nothing that could keep him from her side for long.
"Wait for me, Elizabeth. We shall be together soon." He whispered this into the cool wind hopping that somehow she could hear him. "I love you."
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