AN: At last I am free to publish this here! Though, of course, if anyone wants to support the author it is still available on Amazon, and probably is done publishing at Barnes and Noble, and Kobo.
I will be posting in nine weekly updates of about 7,000 words. The total story is a little over 70k words. I hope you all enjoy and do review.
Darcy's cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam was briefly in London on business for his regiment, and he took the opportunity to breakfast with Darcy and Georgiana. While the two men endeavored to draw more enthusiasm from their quiet cousin, the letter arrived. Darcy immediately recognized Bingley's hand and, with an unpleasant premonition, tore the envelope open. It was even less decipherable than normal, but the essence of the message was clear.
Jane loves me — she really loves me — you must wish me joy — not a mistake at all — would have been the worst mistake — how would you expect a — behave? Jane loves me! — Tuesday, January 7. Well you stand with me? Despite your — no one I more wish than you.
Most sincerely your friend,
C Bingley
Darcy hoped Bingley was right, for the marriage would only be tolerable if Jane sincerely loved him. Did she?
The letter implied Miss Bennet explicitly assured Bingley that she loved him. She would not behave as Wickham — at least Darcy did not think she would — and intentionally deceive a gentleman who had come to her with an open heart. Yet, he had seen none of those flirtatious behaviors with which ladies usually indicated their object of affection. She did not seek opportunities to touch him, or tease him, or even seek his attention when it was not on her.
He sighed, folded the letter, and tapped it against the breakfast table.
Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke, "Is it poor news? Come, you know a trouble shared is a trouble halved."
Darcy glanced at Georgiana and said, "No, it is not poor news. My friend Mr. Bingley is to be married. To Miss Jane Bennet" — he looked at Georgiana — "you must recall her from my letters to you."
Georgiana nodded. "Shall we attend the wedding?"
Wickham was in the neighborhood. He disliked disappointing Georgiana when she had expressed interest, but he would not expose her to the scoundrel's presence. Georgiana was still brokenhearted over his betrayal, and simply seeing him could set back her recovery by months. "You would not wish to go because —" Darcy's mind dashed desperately about for an excuse. "Many people will be there. You would not want to be among such a crowd."
The light which had been in Georgiana's eyes dimmed and she nodded. "I understand — might I be excused?"
Once the door closed, Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to Darcy as he took a swallow of coffee. "I do not understand that girl — it is unnatural for someone already sixteen to be that tame. Pray tell, what was the real reason you wish to keep her away from Bingley's wedding?"
"Wickham is present in the neighborhood. He enlisted in the militia regiment stationed at Meryton."
"Blast that man. I understand. Perhaps we should tell her why we wish to keep her away." Colonel Fitzwilliam leaned forward. "What is it about Bingley's marriage that made you respond to its announcement with that stormy expression. You dislike the lady?"
"No — I know no ill about Miss Bennet, except that —" Darcy stopped himself, "as you are like to meet the people involved, I think this conversation ought not continue."
"The deuce. Come now Darcy, we are cousins — I am your closest relation in terms of age and beauty. If you are not going to make confidences which should not be made with me, who are you going to give them to?"
Darcy raised his eyebrows, and Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned. "You should feel flattered that I allowed your tall noble mien to be nearly as worthy of praise as my shorter and — less striking features."
"Tall noble mien? Where did you ever hear such silly rot?"
"Your name has arisen once or twice in conversation with the ladies."
Darcy felt remarkably foolish as he reflexively smiled and stood straighter at that.
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed and said, "Admit it, you do wish to tell me your concerns about Bingley's bride. What is that small matter that concerns you — the except?"
"Well — I suspect Miss Bennet may not really care for Bingley."
"Oh, that is a very small matter."
"She is poor. She has essentially nothing — and the behavior of her family is often abominable."
"And you fear she marries him for his money, as opposed to affection, due to her poverty. Unlike the many girls who ignore penniless colonels because they are greedy for more money, despite having a great deal already — Your Bingley is quite the handsome fellow, with charming manners. Have you considered that she might marry him, despite having no true affection, out of greed for his person and address as opposed to greed for his purse? I know if I were as tall as you, I would've had no trouble attracting some heiress."
"Please be serious — I am concerned for my friend."
"I salute you for your worry. However, all you said — besides the enormously important matter of the girl's poverty –" Colonel Fitzwilliam waved his hand dismissively. "Could be said about half the marriages in our set. If Bingley fancies himself desperately in love and imagines the lady's feelings to be similar, I daresay he has better than the average hope of happiness."
"Maybe."
Fitzwilliam laughed. "If you will not be reassured by that, let us see what else I might say to encourage you. What led you to conclude she cares for nothing but his purse?"
"When I realized on Tuesday last a general expectation had formed that the two would make a match of it, I spent the remainder of the evening carefully observing Miss Bennet. She was restrained with Bingley and showed little more enthusiasm for him than for anyone else. She did smile a great deal at Bingley, but she always smiles."
"So the foundation of your case is that she smiles no matter who she is with?"
"I looked for signs of particular regard and saw none."
"And perhaps she only displayed maidenly reserve? It is on occasion real, especially among girls who have not been regularly to London, as I imagine Bingley's penniless ladylove has not. What led Bingley to be so convinced of the affection of his lady that it overcame his usual dependence on your counsel?"
"He thought her words in their private conversations indicated affection, and after our conversation, he determined to ask her directly if she loved him. He planned to offer only if she claimed to love him. From Bingley's letter she replied in the affirmative."
"And yet you still doubt?" Colonel Fitzwilliam looked incredulously at Darcy. "You claim to think no ill of her, but you believe the young lady might lie about such a serious matter, and you trust your own observation from a distance, and for only an hour, more than Bingley's understanding of her character from weeks of conversation. Likely he is fortunate he ignored you."
Darcy smiled. "So you are convinced, based on my secondhand description of the situation, that the lady is in love with Bingley. You think yourself such a good judge as to see better in this case than me."
"Nay, do not put those words in my mouth — I would never consider myself a better judge of the minds of women than you." Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed at Darcy's embarrassment. "You may gain their attention easily, but there are few men of my acquaintance whose judgement on a lady's feelings I would trust less than yours. You have never been easy in conversation with them."
Darcy bowed his head to acknowledge the point. "I still can observe."
"True, but Bingley had far better opportunity to observe Miss Bennet. Enough of this, you can do no good by worrying about it. If I were you, I would believe Jane Bennet is sincere and resolve to feel happy for Bingley. I feel happy for Bingley and will congratulate him heartily when next I see him."
Colonel Fitzwilliam was right. What was done was done. Even if Jane did not love Bingley, she did not dislike him and was a good sort of woman. Perhaps his friend would be happy. Darcy himself could help to contain any scandal the younger girls entered in, and Bingley's temperament would not rebel at a mother-in-law like Mrs. Bennet in the way Darcy's did. The situation was unfortunate, not horrid.
Darcy at last nodded. "For once, I believe your counsel wise."
The two sat. Colonel Fitzwilliam forked several more pieces of sausage onto his plate and refilled his coffee. Darcy's mind turned from Miss Bennet to her sister. He had abandoned all thought of Elizabeth when he left. Her family displayed improper behavior, was poorly connected, and provided no dowry worth mentioning. It was insane to consider such a marriage.
Though, now it would make him Bingley's brother. She was not so poorly connected as before.
Her sparkling eyes were beautiful. Her mouth was pretty and begged to be kissed. And her mind was first rate. She didn't bore him like every lady he'd met during a London season. She argued and smiled and charmed. He would see her in a month more.
Could he force himself away this time?
The news of her brother's engagement threw Caroline Bingley into turmoil. Mr. Darcy had — unexpectedly — failed to persuade her brother to see his interest. Caroline felt too embarrassed by her brother, and her new connections, to call upon the Darcys for several days. After all the care Mr. Darcy had given her mostly useless brother, he threw it away by making the wrong choice in the second most important decision of his life.
Eventually, Darcy would grow tired of Charles's impertinence and foolishness. She had long ago. Would Charles also ignore Mr. Darcy's advice when he purchased an estate?
Charles never appreciated his great luck in attracting the friendship of a man who so perfectly combined excellence of family connections and personal capability. It astonished her that Charles treated Mr. Darcy in such a flippant manner. He even told Darcy that he could go to bed early if he was not interested in the ball! Balls and dancing were great fun, but Darcy's distaste was clear, and Charles should have respected it.
At least, until now, Charles always followed Darcy's lead in matters of importance. Perhaps this would end the steady friendship between the two. It would be natural for Darcy to refuse to connect himself any longer with a family, which not only gained its great fortune in trade one generation ago (though the stain was reduced because their uncle had a substantial estate in Northumberland), but which also now had relatives actively in trade.
Certainly, this marriage damaged her hope to attach the great man to herself.
It was with trepidation that Caroline called upon Georgiana about a week after Bingley had returned to Netherfield. Miss Darcy met her with the new companion, whose name Caroline simply could not recall. It was not important; after all she was barely more than a servant.
Georgiana wore a handsome silk shawl, which she buried her hands under. Her reply to Miss Bingley's "G'day" was an embarrassed blush and a mumbled, "Good day to you too."
"We are pleased to see you Miss Bingley." The companion spoke when it became clear her charge would not take more of the conversational burden, "I know you returned to town only a week past. Has your stay been pleasant so far?"
Georgiana was an odd insipid creature. Caroline tried — she certainly tried — to make friends with her, but it was impossible to get two words out of the pathetic dear. Why Darcy doted on her was a confusing mystery.
"Is your brother well? I've not seen him since the day we all arrived in London."
Georgiana quietly mumbled. The only word Miss Bingley understood was "fencing."
The companion elaborated, "Mr. Darcy went out to his fencing club an hour ago or so. He should return within a little time, if you hoped to speak to him. We have heard your brother is to be married."
Before Caroline began her carefully crafted speech, which would show a tolerant bemusement at her brother's foolishness, but express her intention to remain above the new connections he had saddled her with, Georgiana spoke, "You must be happy — I mean very pleased. My brother said Miss Bennet is a most elegant and kind woman."
That was promising — Mr. Darcy would not praise Jane Bennet to his sister if he intended to cut them all over her. Caroline said, "I'm sure Jane will be an excellent sister."
"It is such a pleasant thought — your brother's marriage —" Georgiana spoke with an unusual fervency and glow, "I understand Miss Bennet has almost no dowry. It — it made me very happy to hear of a marriage where the man only cared for his beloved, and nothing else."
"Yes… My sentiments are… Well it is certainly true my brother marries Jane solely for her own sake." Caroline could not quite bring herself to verbally agree with the softheaded nonsense Georgiana just expressed. She almost never spoke, but when she did, it was to praise imprudent marriages.
Something had gone badly amiss in Georgiana's education — perhaps she had been pulled from school too soon. And while equally admired and well known, Georgiana's school lacked compared to her own.
"That shawl is delightful, where did you acquire it?" Her brother's marriage was not something she wished to discuss — especially not with this odd girl who approved of it.
Georgiana's awkward nature returned, and she looked away with a blush while fingering the fabric. "Do you think so? My brother bought it for me. So I know it must be excellent, but it seems almost too pretty for me to wear." The last words were barely audible as Georgiana's voice trailed away.
"Of course not, you are the most elegant girl I know. And you are so beautiful. Your brother knows that — is it not very sweet how he dotes upon you."
When Georgiana looked at her during the speech, Caroline detected a hint of a frown on the girl's face. She looked away immediately with her usual shyness. That was the worst part of it. Despite all her efforts to praise and flatter Georgiana, even though the girl deserved no such consideration, Caroline often received the distinct impression that Georgiana disliked her.
Hopefully, if that was true, she would be too backward in her brother's presence to ever mention it.
To Caroline's great happiness Darcy entered the room. His thick dark hair was damp from a bath, and he was dressed in an elegant and formfitting coat. The tan breaches tucked into his boots molded perfectly around the muscles of Darcy's legs, and his strong hands peeked out from the elegant fall of his long sleeves. He was not only the richest man of her close acquaintance but also the most handsome.
"I apologize, I was fencing." Darcy gave that small elegant incline of his head, which showed his perfect gentlemanly self-confidence and breeding. His movements were as smooth as Beau Brummell's but far more masculine and intense.
After the initial greetings Darcy spoke quietly to Georgiana. Instead of following the conversation closely, Caroline's mind wandered while she watched his perfect gestures and the flow of his clothing.
If only she could convince him to marry her, then she would be entirely happy forever.…
All of her friends would be so jealous. Miss Churchill would say when they met at the theater, "My, my Mrs. Darcy, that is a very handsome man." And Mrs. Carter, whose husband was not worth more than half what Bingley was, would pretend to be pleased for her while seething inside. Even Lady Eleanor would be forced to admit Miss Bingley's connections were now quite as good as her own.
When Darcy suggested she display a new concerto she had learned, Georgiana scurried to the piano. It was certainly for the best that she leave the conversation. The music was beautiful, and both Darcy and Miss Bingley listened attentively while she played.
Caroline knew herself to be quite good — far better than Eliza Bennet — due to the excellent training her school gave her, but Miss Darcy had something more, which practice alone could not give. Perhaps it explained Georgiana's deficiencies elsewhere. The mind only had so much space to develop, and it was vital to receive an education which allowed the faculties to flourish in a balanced manner. Georgiana's genius at the piano had crowded out the more important conversational skills.
When Georgiana finished, the proper allotment of time for a visit had passed. Caroline had sat in the room far beyond a civil half hour. She knew they would not invite her to stay longer, so it was time to leave. She never behaved improperly in front of Darcy. Still, she had dearly hoped to directly assess how he felt about Charles's marriage. To Caroline's great pleasure, Darcy followed her out to wait for the carriage to be brought round.
His conversation was less pleasing than his presence. "I must hope you have chosen to be happy about your brother's impending marriage." Darcy stated that with the air of expressing an uncomfortable truth, not the sardonic teasing Caroline hoped for. At least he had not sought to avoid her or encouraged her to leave.
"How could I be unhappy? The new additions to the family want nothing — Mrs. Bennet is a true wit, and her daughters all proper and well behaved. I shall have Mr. Phillips to approach should I ever need the advice of a minor country lawyer — our family lacked one — and I can look forward to the warehouses of her Cheapside relations being opened to us at discount. I never wished so much for Charles. It is more — certainly more — than I thought possible for my brother."
"I comprehend your sentiments madam, but the marriage will happen no matter your desires. Your brother's honor is engaged — he could not withdraw now, even were he to change his mind, and that is most unlikely. We must hope for the best. Bingley is convinced Jane holds him in great affection, and if she truly does I will be sincerely happy for him. I have agreed to stand with Bingley and will do so with all the happiness and good cheer appropriate to the occasion."
Caroline could not refrain from speaking something of her real opinion, an opinion she knew was shared by Darcy. "No matter how Jane cares for him, it does not make Mrs. Bennet one ounce more respectable. It does not make the family one bit better managed. It does not improve their status at all."
Darcy's face was impassive. What thoughts were hid behind the elegant mask he presented to the world? At last he said, "I have thought a great deal on Bingley's behavior. He perhaps showed great wisdom. In marriage affection and true companionship is important — perhaps it is the only important thing." Darcy shrugged. "The connection will do more to raise the status of the Bennets than it will to lower the status of your brother."
"No matter who the girls marry, they always will have the aunt and uncle in Cheapside. They will still be related to those in trade."
"There are those who can never forget, nor overlook, the stench of trade." Darcy agreed, but there was that in his eye which showed her own relatives were on his mind.
Caroline flushed; her grandparents on her father's side had been entirely respectable, and no one in her family worked now. She was better than Miss Bennet. It was not hypocritical to think so.
Darcy added, "None of us would be wholly safe were the misbehavior of our relations held against us. I no longer think it well to hold the improprieties of a girl's family against her."
The carriage had waited for several minutes already, and Darcy, clearly desirous of finishing the conversation, stepped up to its door, waved off her footman, and opened it for her. He inclined his head in another perfectly executed gesture and said, "It was pleasant to see you. I hope you are well for the rest of the day."
Caroline was horrified: She'd seen how his eye followed and lingered upon Eliza Bennet. His early praise of Eliza's eyes had been to tease Caroline for seeking a compliment. But it also had been sincere. If Darcy no longer thought the status of the Bennets was reason to avoid a connection with them — if he considered following Charles's choice to marry only for affection — then he might decide to marry Elizabeth Bennet.
This was horrible. This was far worse than Charles's marriage. It was a nightmare. A sense of rejection pricked at Caroline's eyes. It had never been likely that Darcy would marry her. He was famously avoidant of women. If fondness for dancing was a certain step towards falling in love, to despise the art was an equally certain step towards avoiding the bounds of matrimony. Still, no other girl had been so close to him, with such good opportunity to appeal to him, as herself.
Since he was disinclined to marry her, could not Darcy remain a perpetual bachelor? And, if he needed to marry, could he not choose anybody besides that self-important country nobody who laughed at Caroline from behind her hand. Despite the inferiority of her wealth and consequence, it was clear Eliza saw her as a cross between an annoyance and an object of amusement.
It would be unimaginably horrible if she became the Mistress of Pemberley. It would — it would be worse than if Louisa died.
If Darcy attached himself to some Earl's daughter, it would make sense. That would be the way the world was supposed to work. But Eliza Bennet! What was so wrong with her that Mr. Darcy would prefer that awful woman, that woman who never showed him any respect?
Caroline had a beauty mark visible on her face — but it was small, and all her friends assured her it only made her appear more striking. And her face was a trifle too thin for fashion. Yet, Eliza Bennet was not a perfect beauty either. She was not like Jane whose face was perfection itself.
She was even thinner than Caroline, due to those endless — and shocking — walks. Her face was not perfectly even, and her hair was far too black. Her eyebrows were poorly trimmed. Eliza did not use her parasol consistently, and her face was unusually freckled. Caroline saw no value in lying to herself: Eliza Bennet was a little prettier. But not enough, not nearly enough to overcome her many other deficiencies.
It must not be!
Caroline exited her carriage at the Hurst's townhouse. How could she ensure Mr. Darcy would not marry Eliza Bennet? She suspected Eliza disliked Mr. Darcy. Perhaps that could be worked upon. If Mr. Darcy asked Elizabeth, she would accept him. Only a fool would refuse Mr. Darcy, no matter how they felt. But, if she let that distaste become fully visible to Darcy, perhaps he would withdraw.
Caroline Bingley returned to Netherfield two weeks before her brother's wedding. For Elizabeth, it was not the happiest event of a happy season. To her surprise, at the first opportunity — when Jane and Bingley went out for one of their walks, and Elizabeth made to follow them with a book — Miss Bingley latched onto her arm and said, "My dear Miss Eliza, you must let me accompany you. Oh! How I adore a good walk. I have needed a good country walk since I returned to London. You shall make the best possible walking companion."
"Of course, Miss Bingley, I can imagine no better walking companion either."
Miss Bingley wore an elegant walking costume. It was made with a thin silk fabric and hung beautifully. However it would be impractical for either a long or a fast walk and would not survive much mud or dust. And her spencer would do little to protect from the December winds.
Elizabeth wondered how Jane would dress now that she would have the money to afford finer fabrics and London designers. They chatted lightly and Miss Bingley did not quickly give clue to what she was about — during the stay at Netherfield Elizabeth learned Miss Bingley was no great walker, unless it was to accompany Mr. Darcy.
At last Miss Bingley asked, after a hard gust of wind, which made her shiver, "We are to be nearly sisters Eliza. We should become the closest of friends as well. "
Politeness meant, no matter what Elizabeth's feelings were, only one response was possible. In any case Miss Bingley's — Caroline's — choice to change her manner after so strenuously objecting to the marriage was quite amusing. And sensible. Dear Caroline would not wish to be excluded from the house of the future Mrs. Bingley.
"Of course," Elizabeth smiled sweetly and said, "nothing prevents us from being the best of friends. After all, my sister is to marry your brother — we all are determined to be happy about it. Are we not, Caroline?"
Caroline's eyes tightened, and she returned a perfectly fake smile. "I am delighted — a wedding is such a happy event is it not? And I shall gain a perfect sister. Your sister is so very beautiful — no one would deny her beauty. It pains me greatly to say, but one gentleman was so rude as to suggest — no I cannot say it, it was too awful."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. Was Miss Bingley attempting to insult her? No doubt Darcy had discoursed at length in private on his distaste of her appearance — obviously he was the gentleman Miss Bingley referred to. Darcy was the sort of gentleman who would make sure all connected to him knew if he disliked the appearance of a woman.
Elizabeth said, "I was made aware, by overhearing, a few months ago — why it was the very night we all met — that it is possible for a gentleman to resist my charms. You need not fear that the pool of my vanity is so shallow that it could be drained by such a thing. I am as impressed with myself as ever. It would be vanity indeed if the existence of one gentleman who I was not handsome enough to tempt hurt me."
The two walked on slowly, following Bingley and Jane. The wind kicked up, flowing freely through the bare branches of the trees surrounding them. Miss Bingley shivered and exclaimed, "It is so dreadfully cold! How do you not feel it?"
"You perhaps should have selected a heavier overcoat."
"It is a clear day, and no wind blew. I did not realize it could become so sharp. Do you always go so far? I remember you went to Netherfield when our dear Jane was sick — as we are now such close friends, I know you will not take it amiss if I admit the mud on the hem of your petticoat was most shocking."
"It was a sign of my affection for Jane — I strode into your breakfast room wholly satisfied with myself. I promise you that. I cannot be intimidated; I rise to every occasion."
"You are most forward." Miss Bingley added with a twist of her mouth, "It is your charm."
The falsity and superficial regard of this interaction delighted Elizabeth. She recalled no conversation that was its equal. Mr. Bennet would be excessively diverted when she related the story.
A further surprise was in store. "Eliza, I owe you apology. While in London several times I visited Mr. Darcy's townhouse, and once, entirely on accident, overheard a conversation between him and a relation" — Miss Bingley lowered her voice and leaned her head close to Elizabeth's — "I know it was improper for me to listen to a private conversation, but at first it was unintentional, and it is far worse for me to share the conversation with you — yet, the lack of honor shown by —"
Miss Bingley pulled Elizabeth to a stop and said, "You must promise me, on your honor as a gentlewoman, not to spread the story further."
A devious smile hid under Miss Bingley's superficial somberness, and Elizabeth did not trust her intentions. Yet, her curiosity was too great to be ignored. In a manner which showed she hoped her words to be ignored, Elizabeth said "My dear Caroline, if the situation is as you say, perhaps you should not share the story. It was gained by subterfuge — even if unintentional."
"Oh, I wish I could be silent! But my conscience, my sense that I wronged you and your friend Mr. Wickham, demand I speak."
"Mr. Wickham!"
"Yes, the conversation I overheard, it related to him. Darcy openly admitted to his relation that he had acted with unjustified cruelty towards his father's godson. Something of great value his father intended for Wickham was withheld out of jealousy. I heard Darcy say it: 'I was jealous, cruel, and unjust. Yet I will not repent of it. Wickham deserves his fate for my father loved him more than I.' I would never have imagined that Darcy could act with such a lack of honor."
"I'm greatly surprised you choose to share this with me." The story seemed odd. Yet — Elizabeth saw poor helpless Wickham, with his love for company and self-indulgent habits, denied the easy life promised for him. Darcy would have held his beautifully shaped head high when he bragged about destroying Wickham's future.
It neatly fit her picture of Darcy that he had sufficient cleverness and self-awareness to see that the source of his anger solely was petty jealousy, and yet a poor enough character to still mistreat his father's favorite.
Darcy was endlessly complex and astonishing: He could not be laughed at, but he was by far the most fascinating character she'd ever attempted to make out. If only his good features had not been paired with such arrogance and viciousness. He would've been a truly exceptional man.
Miss Bingley said, "I attacked your friend solely because I trusted Mr. Darcy. And, I fear, because I knew Wickham to be of modest birth. I had not thought a man of Darcy's breeding and education could be so duplicitous. But he is. That is what made me speak. My conscience could not rest easy till you heard the full truth about Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham."
Elizabeth paused a long time to digest Miss Bingley's words before she replied, "I thank you for telling me. It must have been an unpleasant shock to learn the truth about your favorite. This is no surprise to me — I had already known his character to be poor. I accept your apology. Have you attempted to warn Mr. Bingley?"
"Oh! My brother never listens to me!" The irritation in Miss Bingley's voice and pursed lips was genuine. She was probably still angry Mr. Bingley had not listened when she begged him to abandon Jane. "And Darcy is his dearest friend. He would never listen to words against him. And Darcy himself, I was never so shocked as when I heard he was to stand up with Bingley at the wedding. Before Bingley proposed, he had —" Miss Bingley caught herself and looked at Elizabeth.
She paused for a moment of clearly false consideration — during which another stiff breeze led Miss Bingley to shiver and shout, "Lord! It is cold."
At last Miss Bingley said while hugging herself for warmth, "After I have said so much, I must tell you all — Darcy spoke most violently against the marriage. He dwelt first on the disgrace of relations in trade, then he railed against what he called the vulgarity of your aunt and mother. He dislikes your mother very much. He called her a scheming, mercenary fatwit. And you as well. He despises you. He claimed you to be ill bred and rude and argumentative. Your manners are certainly not those of the best refined society, but to say such… It shocked me. And then he insulted your appearance as an argument against my brother marrying your sister."
The gleam in Miss Bingley's eye and the enthusiasm in her voice convinced Elizabeth that she — at least in part — expressed her own insults under the cover of attributing them to Darcy. Miss Bingley waved her hands eagerly, forgetting the cold. "He told us that the thickness of your eyebrows resemble the backside of the horse — an impression not contradicted by the dung like color of your eyes."
Elizabeth's hand came up with some discomfort to rub at her eyebrows, and she attempted to interrupt Miss Bingley, "Really, I don't —"
To no avail, as Miss Bingley continued with glee in her voice, "And your nose, those freckles — your freckles are so shocking. Shocking… He said, 'How does that girl not know she should use a parasol instead of walking about like a wild harridan? Why, I would be horrified if I saw my sister to act so.' And that… beauty mark on your neck, the one you did not properly cover at the Netherfield ball, why he discoursed for a full five minutes about how it unbalances your appearance."
"That is enough! We have nothing further to say to each other. Ever. And you accuse my manners of being ill bred."
Miss Bingley froze, and her ears turned red.
Elizabeth shook her head in amazement as she stepped backwards. Dear Caroline was a marvel. Elizabeth briskly walked down the road towards Jane and Bingley, who had disappeared over the horizon.
Was that mole really so bad? Elizabeth had thought it added a certain… maybe not elegance, but distinction to her neck. And Miss Bingley had her own beauty mark. It was even bigger and less well-placed.
Miss Bingley tried to catch up and called out, "It was Mr. Darcy who accused you of that — not I. Not I."
Elizabeth turned around. "I do not doubt that he also said as much." She made a derisive half curtsey to Miss Bingley. "I must rejoin my sister and new brother. Who knows that they may have gotten up to without my presence?"
Jane and Bingley were only talking as they walked along sedately. They nestled sweetly against each other's arm. Elizabeth stomped up to them, easily catching the meandering couple. "Be honest — I know I can trust you both to be honest." Elizabeth tapped the beauty mark on her neck. "Does this unbalance my appearance?"
Upon the arrival of Darcy's carriage at Netherfield the day before the wedding, Bingley ran out to greet Darcy. He shook Darcy's hand briskly before he had even exited the carriage.
"It is good to see you, very good." Bingley's broad smile radiated cheer. He embraced Darcy the instant his feet were both on solid ground. Darcy stiffened slightly at the sudden close contact, and Bingley stepped back. "Sorry old man, but I am so damned pleased to see you. I am in too good a mood to give a tuppence about proprieties."
Darcy grinned and seized Bingley's forearm and, feeling a little self-conscious, embraced his friend, "No harm. No harm. I am delighted to see you as well."
"Now, I have quite enough happiness for the both of us. There is no need for you pretend enthusiasm about my marriage — I have enough pretense from Caroline."
Darcy clapped his arm around Bingley's shoulder. "It is no pretense. You are my friend, and I wish your happiness. I very much hope my advice was mistaken. You are happy at this point, a month after the engagement. It bodes well."
"I am blissfully happy. I have never been so happy — and my Jane does love me. I was a fool to imagine you able to judge in this matter. A woman's heart is nothing like an investment or a field. You can't directly calculate whether it makes sense. The areas where you are clever and wise are quite likely to lead you astray when attempting to woo a girl." Bingley laughed. "I daresay, someday you will come to me for advice."
Bingley's words struck Darcy. He had tried to push her out of his mind, but he would see Elizabeth again today. Bingley looked extremely happy. Would marrying Elizabeth make Darcy as happy? More and more, he thought Elizabeth might be worth the cost. Marrying her would be a great sacrifice, but she was beautiful and sparkling, and he would have her for the rest of his life.
Darcy replied with mock offense, "I be the one to need advice? That will be an odd day indeed."
"You know you are not perfect. And you are a bit shy with the ladies. Is that the true source of your disinclination for dancing? I have discovered it."
"Nay, that is not it."
Despite his words, Darcy thought there might be something to it. Women pretended to agree with him, while secretly thinking something else. Except for Elizabeth, none showed him their true thoughts. It made him awkward and uncomfortable.
That afternoon they went to a dinner party held at Longbourn to celebrate the marriage the following day. After the wedding itself an even larger feast would be held in Netherfield's ample ballroom.
The Longbourn drawing room was littered with a profusion of shelves and display cases. They displayed china plates and figurines and other proofs that Mrs. Bennet could waste money with ill taste. As soon as they were announced, the brightly smiling Jane ran up to her fiancé. Darcy watched the couple closely. He had promised to feel happy for his friend, but worry remained. Did Jane actually love him?
Bingley was ecstatic and devoted while Jane was radiant. Her eyes lingered on Bingley, and they were both filled with ready smiles and good nature. Darcy was shocked by the difference in Jane's behavior. She glowed with sweet affection.
He had believed Jane likely felt something for Bingley, but he had not imagined she felt nearly as much as she should. But no hint of anything but the strongest and sincerest affection showed in her manner. If this be not love, then he had never seen it.
Elizabeth frustrated him. When he approached, she immediately moved to engage herself in a conversation with other women. He was sure it was to avoid him. Their eyes had met before he started to walk over.
Could she not let him speak? Was she disappointed he had not followed Bingley's example? Surely she could not blame him for not lowering himself so far.
They had ended their last conversation on a poor note. She had defended Wickham. An anxious chill vibrated in Darcy's throat. Had Wickham poisoned her further against him? Maybe he ought to have been explicit about some of Wickham's misbehaviors.
No. Had Elizabeth been sensible, she would have trusted him immediately.
She was exquisite. When the company settled around the table for dinner, she sat on the opposite side of the long table, next to Jane and Bingley. A gentleman from the neighborhood whose name Darcy could not recall sat on her other side. As she ate the delicate movement of her hand half hypnotized him. She carefully pulled spoonful after spoonful from the bowl of soup to her mouth. Once the dishes were changed, the way she held her knife to cut the roast seemed perfect. It was the elegant twist of her wrist.
Once or twice their eyes met; there was strong emotion in hers, but Darcy could not interpret it. She would look away and frown. Several times Elizabeth laughed, her head rocking back and forth as she smiled at the person she spoke with.
After the dinner Darcy had no opportunity to seek her out for conversation. A group of the local gentlemen Bingley had turned into close companions dragged him away to drink during his last night as a free man. Darcy barely knew the other gentlemen, so he stood next to a stuffed deer head in Netherfield's billiard room with a glass in his hand and watched the others carouse. He drank a little and thought about Elizabeth.
He could make her play for him every evening. Those delicate hands against his body. Her slippered foot. He did need heirs.
She was still beneath him. Mrs. Bennet disgusted him. Miss Lydia would create a scandal. It would be a mistake, and he would regret it. He'd met the Gardiner's briefly, and while they behaved in a well-bred fashion, their situation in life was far beneath his own.
He shouldn't do it. He should not.
After everyone but Darcy was drunk, Bingley decided to refresh his haircut — though it had been done only a week before — to look his best for Jane. It was a clear night with a full moon, so they could safely ride to Meryton to wake the barber.
After Bingley's hair was done, he shouted, "Darcy, you must get it done as well. Otherwise people will think you are one of those long haired poets."
It had been well above a month. Elizabeth might like it more if he had it cut. She probably would. With a wordless grimace, Darcy sat to allow the bald middle aged man to work upon his head.
Elizabeth's poverty and disgraceful relations didn't matter. He was giving up. For once he would do what he wanted, not what he should. It may be a mistake. He might regret it someday. But he would marry Elizabeth Bennet nonetheless. It was how she laughed, that happy, unembarrassed guffaw. That wonderful sound which all the society bred ladies had been taught to disguise.
He couldn't leave her behind in Hertfordshire. He couldn't return to Pemberley and never hear her laugh