A few weeks later Jane and Bingley removed to Netherfield. Darcy would have followed them immediately with Georgiana, but he still wished to keep her separate from Wickham. The regiment was to depart in the middle of the summer, a fortnight later than its initial plan, and Darcy would bring Georgiana to Netherfield that day. Then after another two weeks they would head to Pemberley.
It was a terribly long time. Two months would pass between the ball at Lord Carrington's, and when he would at last have Elizabeth at Pemberley. Perhaps he was a fool when he did not ride down to Longbourn the day after to seek Elizabeth's hand.
But the argument of January had left him scarred. She had called him cruel and selfish. She had identified the contempt he showed. She had been right. He needed to prove he'd become better. She would see his behavior among her family, and she would see the home he offered her. Then he would ask.
She had as good as promised to accept, but he wanted her to see everything first.
When Lady Matlock, Darcy's other aunt, begged to have Georgiana in her house for two weeks before the season ended, Darcy eagerly encouraged the plan, and, without any further obligations in London, took his carriage to Netherfield.
He would at last see Elizabeth again. He needed to see Elizabeth.
She had been so beautiful at the ball. She had smiled at him so. That beautiful, wide, white toothed smile. The smile of approval and affection. That smile haunted his dreams.
He loved her rationally and passionately. His spirit had placed a luminescent glow around Elizabeth. At the start of their second dance, he had been fatigued, and she made him feel relaxed and happy. He could tell Elizabeth anything. She had become his dearest friend. She saw his flaws and liked him still. She drove him to become a better man.
The road to Netherfield was a little familiar to Darcy. He'd seen those towns and hills before. His mind circled Elizabeth. How would she act when they saw each other? When he first approached her at the ball, surrounded by gentlemen whose eyes lingered hungrily upon her, she had looked about with a smile enjoying the scene. And then she saw him. And her eyes lit up.
Would she smile so again?
When the carriage pulled into the drive at Netherfield, Elizabeth was there. She stood on the portico with Bingley, her mother, and Jane to greet the carriage. Darcy paused before he stepped out to take her in. A pair of white marble columns framed her. She wore a light yellow dress with a wide green ribbon around her waist tied just below her bosom. Curls floated about her forehead, and their eyes met.
Her gaze struck in the core of his being. She looked down and blushed sweetly. Darcy exited the carriage. Elizabeth looked at him with an uncertain smile. His heart beat hard as he smiled back. She met his eyes with a sunny grin.
Bingley greeted Darcy effusively. While Darcy shook his friend's hand and was ushered indoors, Elizabeth kept her eyes upon him. Her admiration made him stand tall and proud.
Once they all sat in Netherfield's drawing room, Mrs. Bennet burst out, "Lord! Mr. Darcy, it is very kind of you — so kind — to host so much of my family — No matter what anyone said, I always thought the best of you. They all claimed you to be rude and silent, but I said: No, Mr. Darcy only shows a very becoming family pride."
Darcy inclined his head though this unexpected speech confused him. No matter what he would be polite to her. He had no idea what to say.
Mrs. Bennet rushed on, "I never believed anything Mr. Wickham said against you. Never — I am sure it would not possibly bother you if I sent off my daughter Catherine along with Jane and Lizzy to your estate. Jane said she could not bring Kitty along as you do not know her, and it would be impolite. But an additional girl could hardly signify. Kitty is so much better natured than Lizzy — I do not understand why my brother invites Lizzy to everything — and Lydia travels to Brighton in a few days. Kitty is so unhappy — she will hardly meet any wealthy men here, but some neighbor of yours might take a fancy to her."
Darcy incredulously stared at Mrs. Bennet. Her bold smile made the large unnatural blotches of red rouge on her cheeks stand out. The openly mercenary nature of Mrs. Bennet had not changed. And she denigrated Elizabeth's value. "Madam, I have not spoken three words to your daughter. This is to be a party of friends. An extra will be in the way."
"Kitty will not bother you — she is a well behaved girl who never runs off her mouth to her betters, unlike —"
"Mama, I begged you to say nothing," Elizabeth interrupted.
"Heavens. Lizzy, I do nothing wrong by asking. You care nothing for your sister, but I shall not be silenced."
Elizabeth coloured deeply and fell silent after a pained glance at Darcy. Mrs. Bennet's mistreatment of Elizabeth bothered Darcy more than the impertinent request. Elizabeth's unhappiness at the scene frustrated him, and he replied with a sharp authoritative voice, "Madam it is impossible."
Elizabeth flushed further, but Darcy's object was achieved, and the room fell silent. Elizabeth stiffly stared away with bright cheeks. Darcy was struck by her beauty and the knowledge he'd misspoken again. He had promised himself to not insult her family. How could he hope to make her happy if he always behaved rudely towards them?
Jane spoke, "Mama, I just recalled a matter in the management of the pantry I wished to ask your advice upon. It affects my preparation for the dinner we shall have tomorrow, so it is a matter of some urgency."
"Oh! Of course — I have trained you well" — she smiled at Bingley — "but it is good for you to ask when there is any doubt." The two ladies left the room. Elizabeth did not look up at their departure but continued to stare out the window.
Bingley said, "I apologize Darcy, we did not imagine she would ask you direct on such a matter. None of us — not even Kitty — think it a good idea. We did discourage her."
Darcy waved his hand. "It is of no significance."
Elizabeth was still flushed and would not look at him. Did she wish him to invite Miss Kitty?
Surely Elizabeth did not wish Miss Kitty to be present. If he recalled the girl right, she was immature and a little insipid. An additional member to their party would take some of Elizabeth's attention. Darcy did not know how Miss Kitty would get along with Georgiana.
He should not assume he knew Elizabeth's mind. Even if she did not wish Kitty's presence he should ask.
Darcy hesitated for an instant as he truly did not wish Miss Kitty to travel with them. "Elizabeth," Darcy flushed when Bingley sat straighter and gave him a hard look, "Miss Bennet, I ought to have treated your mother with greater patience."
Elizabeth looked at him intently. There was a smile. Her eyes were striking and brilliant.
Darcy nearly stumbled to a halt. "Would you — that is do you wish your sister's presence? For if so it would not be too crowded in the carriages."
"No!" Elizabeth beamed at him. "Oh, no. There's little I wish less than to be trapped for many hours while my sister complains how unfair it is that Lydia traveled to Brighton while she could not. It is not only selfish reasons which argue against it — Kitty has no interest in the scheme. When Mama suggested it, Kitty thought a big house and a stuffy man" — Elizabeth's eyes twinkled — "or had she said a stuffy house and a big man? Either way, it was a poor substitute for officers and the seaside."
Darcy knew he'd spoken right from the quick turn in Elizabeth's spirits. "Pemberley's rooms are always well aired; I must be the stuffy one. Further, though tall, I am not near so large as Pemberley."
Darcy's heart beat faster at the bright way Elizabeth looked at him. "It was — it was handsome of you to offer. I know you would greatly dislike having a person who was nearly a stranger to you in the party."
"I would. But I would suffer anything to delight you."
Bingley coughed. "I am still here. Darcy that is a terribly pretty sentiment. You don't treat all your friends with that attitude."
The next evening was a dinner party at Lucas Lodge. Elizabeth prepared herself carefully. She chose a red evening dress with a wide square chest. It was a daring dress. Darcy's eyes had lingered over her; her slim figure delighted him. Elizabeth flushed with happiness and the familiar arousal that came when she imagined him kissing or touching her. He would hardly look away tonight.
As was his habit Mr. Bennet remained home. It was only a few minutes' walk to the Lucases, and though they did not leave early, they arrived before most guests. The entire walk Lydia and Kitty loudly quarreled. Upon their arrival the girls ceased. Lydia rushed to the punch table, and Kitty went to speak to Maria Lucas.
Elizabeth stayed near the vestibule and conversed with friends as they arrived. But part of her attention was always on the door. At last Darcy arrived with Bingley and Jane. He stood tall with his thick brown hair falling in neat waves and wore a well cut blue coat. His eyes sought around for her. They widened and he stopped as though struck when they lit upon her.
As his eyes lingered, Elizabeth lightly stepped to him to give greeting. "Mr. Darcy, I am delighted to see you arrive at long last, I had near despaired." She smiled, "You look to be in fine health and spirits tonight."
Before he replied, Sir William finished greeting Bingley and spoke to them, "Mr. Darcy, welcome, welcome to my home. It is a great delight to have such a distinguished person beneath this roof once again."
Darcy bowed his head in acknowledgement and said, "I am greatly pleased to be here. Your entertainment is always well worth enjoying."
"Your praise graces us. It graces us. You are too kind, far too kind. Like your distinguished aunt, at whose table I have dined twice. She is a perfect exemplar of her exalted rank. As you are."
Darcy nodded, smiled, and attempted to move away so he might direct his conversation towards Elizabeth again. However, as Elizabeth expected, following this show of goodwill from the silent Darcy, it was impossible for Sir William to let him leave so quick. "I had never seen such a great house as your aunt's. And her treatment of my daughter and her husband shows a perfect condescension that should be modeled by all the great in the kingdom."
In like manner Sir William continued, praising Lady Catherine near as effusively as his son-in-law and only pausing to ask such questions as, "The marble lions kept on the dining table, they are exquisite. Know you which master produced them?"
Elizabeth bit her lip. Darcy remained amiable under this onslaught of friendly inanity. Every minute or so he caught her eye and she grinned at him. Darcy did an admirable job of keeping any impatience out of his body language, but his eyes were a little helpless.
It was sweet of him to try to prove he could be sociable and friendly in Meryton. And his discomfort, evident to her, was delightfully charming. Each time Sir William asked a question, Darcy replied with a full sentence and looked at Elizabeth, who would smirk again. After ten minutes, Elizabeth at last pitied Darcy and rescued him.
"And the portrait of your aunt's late husband in the dining room, I measured it with my eye and believe it to be at least eight feet tall. It is a perfect likeness and the most glorious portrait I have seen except at St. James's. Do you not agree?"
"I —"
"I am sorry Sir William, but I just heard a call for music from the other room, and I wish to respond. I must claim Mr. Darcy to turn my pages for me."
She smiled winsomely at both of them
"Capital, capital. There is an excellent idea. Music is one of the greatest of refined pleasures. I shall not delay you."
As they walked to the drawing room Elizabeth said, "I perceived you enjoyed the conversation very much indeed, else I would have interrupted more quickly."
"You perceived that, did you?"
Elizabeth sat on the piano bench and patted next to her for Darcy to sit. "I did, yes. I know how very much you enjoy discussion of the price of your aunt's furnishings. I recall how you went on about them with Mr. Collins at Hunsford."
With that Elizabeth settled a piece of music before her and began. Because Darcy enjoyed her playing at Rosings, Elizabeth of late had practiced substantially more than her usual habit. The opportunity to display was welcome.
He sat quite close to her on the bench, and their arms and knees would occasionally brush. Each time Elizabeth felt a flutter through all her nerves, but her hope to impress kept her from missing keys.
After she finished the performance Elizabeth stood to allow Mary her turn. Turning to Darcy, she asked with a smile, "Well Mr. Darcy, will you at last admit how poor my performances really are?"
Darcy replied with a grave smile, "If I did not know that your vanity had not taken a musical turn, I would imagine that you fished for a compliment."
Elizabeth replied impishly, "And had I been fishing for a compliment, what might you have said?"
"I hardly know. For, to me, your playing has always been perfection itself. There is no performer I enjoy more. Yet, I do perceive you have improved your technical form and execution — Which is an improvement — and yet perfection is that which cannot be improved. Do you perceive my problem?"
"No, for that was a very pretty compliment. And to compliment was the task I set before you. You succeeded admirably at that. I do apologize for forcing you into a philosophical quandary, but I cannot help you there as it seems an insoluble paradox."
"Ah, well. I am glad I managed a compliment, even if it required dreadfully offending the ghost of my old logic teacher." Darcy paused and added with a little discomfort, "I have greeted the host — should I also give my greetings to the hostess? Where is Lady Lucas?"
"You are most serious about this attempt to rescue your reputation in the neighborhood." Elizabeth smiled brightly. She loved the way he wished to please her, and the way he wished to better himself. "I can tell you this will be no difficult task. Already, Sir William will spend the next month praising your kind condescension in listening to him praise Lady Catherine's kind condescension."
For the rest of the evening, Elizabeth led Darcy from conversation to conversation, helping him to talk with the more sensible (or on occasion entertaining) of her neighbors. While he did not have the skill to find meaningless phrases to fill space, he could greet people politely and appear to listen attentively. Elizabeth perceived that when a neighbor made a speech of little interest, he kept her in the corner of his eye.
Darcy was positively amiable and fluent when Elizabeth found sensible and clever persons for him to talk with and kept the conversation on matters which interested Darcy. It was no burden to fill in the gaps in his talk and push the subject towards topics which interested both her neighbors and Darcy. He did not become fatigued over the course of the night, as he had during the ball in London, but amiably conversed the entire time.
She saw what their marriage might be like. Elizabeth had not cared, but she'd expected him to be stiff and unpleasant outside of a family circle. It would not be like that at all. Her presence would soften him and help to make him liked in addition to respected in society.
"Catch me, Denny. Catch me. 'Tis such a joke!" Near the end of the evening, while Elizabeth and Darcy talked together, Lydia ran past waving a saber she had stolen from an officer.
Darcy watched with a stiff face. Elizabeth flushed; she hated that Darcy saw this. His affection was such that he would bear it, but she wished her relations were not a burden.
Lydia eventually collapsed into a chair and relinquished the weapon. Colonel Forster frowned at Lieutenant Denny as he eagerly placed it back in the scabbard.
Lydia cried out, "La, I'm so tired!"
Elizabeth glared at her sister. Darcy's voice brought her attention back to him. "She is a bit wild, but really not so very bad. Many girls behave so."
Elizabeth treated Darcy with a hard stare. "I thank you for saying so. I do. But I hope we do not need to pretend with each other. She is very bad."
Darcy shrugged. "She is but fifteen." He smiled at her. "No sensible person would judge her siblings harshly for her behavior — I do not claim to have always been sensible myself, but I hope I am now."
Elizabeth smiled back at him. That response showed his true thoughts. She had no need to be unhappy about Lydia or anything else. Things were well. Her family might embarrass themselves, but Darcy cared little for it.
"She is to go to Brighton with the regiment?" Darcy's voice was concerned.
Elizabeth threw her hands in the air. "Lord, I tried. But Papa will not listen — he will not. Lydia will make herself into the most determined flirt who ever sought to make herself and her family ridiculous. And he cares nothing about it. He doesn't want to be disturbed by her unhappiness. Quite likely she will marry some penniless officer, who is twice the fool she is, and the rest of us will be left supporting his career for life — and she shall have the joy of living on a too small income."
"Has every attempt been made to convince your father? Did Bingley seek to speak with him?"
"You know Bingley; he was your friend first." Elizabeth and Darcy shared a look. "His marriage has made him less yielding than he was, but he is hardly a man to move my father to do anything he does not wish. My father is determined. I have sworn to think no more upon it, for it is not my nature to worry over problems I cannot fix."
Lydia stayed in Darcy's thoughts. If he was to marry Elizabeth, he should care for her family. Mr. Bennet could not realize the danger faced by an effectively ungoverned girl of Lydia's age. If he understood how easily any girl, even one whose manners gave less reason for concern than Lydia's, could be persuaded into ruin, he would act. Any sensible father would. Elizabeth had tried, but many men foolishly discounted the opinions of women.
Perhaps Mr. Bennet would listen to another gentleman.
The next morning Bingley stayed at Netherfield to deal with estate matters, but Jane called upon her family. Darcy rode with her. Elizabeth was out with Lydia and Kitty to call upon their aunt in Meryton. Mrs. Bennet effusively greeted her daughter but showed him cold civility. Though he should wish for greater friendliness from his prospective mother-in-law, Darcy could not mind.
Darcy went to the library where he knew Mr. Bennet usually spent his days. Elizabeth's father sat in a large stuffed armchair with a small glass of port in his hand and a book on a reading stand in front of him. Mr. Bennet was bald, and he had a bright, incisive look in his eyes that reminded Darcy of Elizabeth.
Darcy had always rather liked him. He was a clever man who liked books and solitude. While Mr. Bennet should do better by his family and estate, if Darcy disdained every gentleman who had a serious flaw, there would be no end of it.
Mr. Bennet wore an informal red dressing gown and spectacles. He froze at Darcy's entrance and his eyes did not move. Darcy walked to the middle of the room and waited to be acknowledged. When Mr. Bennet said nothing Darcy at last spoke, "Sir, I wish to discuss a matter of some importance."
The older man closed his eyes and took in a deep, almost pained breath. "So you do." He exhaled. "Well it does no good to put such things off. What question have you?"
"I am concerned about your daughter Lydia's planned trip to Brighton. If you realized the dangers she might face on such a trip, without careful supervision, you would not allow her to go."
"Lydia?" Mr. Bennet pushed his book stand away with a shaky hand. He laughed. "Of course it is Lydia you wish to speak of." He pointed at the couch nearest to his chair and said, "Well, sit down, sit down."
As Darcy sat down he understood. Mr. Bennet had expected him to ask for Elizabeth's hand. No wonder he had acted so odd when Darcy first entered the room. She had spoken often about how much her father depended upon her company. It could not be pleasant to lose such a daughter.
Mr. Bennet picked up the book that had been on his reading stand. "Tacitus, the Annales — a tale from those early decadent days of the Empire. Not much has changed in eighteen hundred years; men are all much the same, are they not? Still there is an endless fascination in the details of characters. I understand you to be something of a scholar yourself?"
"Far more at Cambridge than at present. I do not make the time needed maintain my skill with the classical languages."
"It is difficult. And once married you shall find it harder. If you wish to reestablish the habit, you should soon." Mr. Bennet put the book aside on a small cast iron table next to his armchair. "So Lizzy set you up to be her champion."
"I assure you Miss Bennet did not send me to you. I chose to come wholly by myself."
"There seems little difference."
Darcy could make no reply to that. Mr. Bennet sighed and took a small sip from his tumbler of port. "I shall give you the same reply I gave to Lizzy: There shall be no peace if Lydia is denied this opportunity, and I see little real harm that could come about from it."
"Do you not fear the way she might embarrass and shame herself? She is a wild girl who shows scant restraint."
"Fear it? It is part of the value of the exercise. Lydia will not be easy until she has exposed herself in some public place, and I cannot imagine a way to allow her the opportunity with less expense and inconvenience than this."
"You wish your daughter to embarrass herself?" Darcy was aghast. He'd thought that, while eccentric and unsocial, Mr. Bennet was at bottom a sensible and responsible man.
"Nothing but a real fear of shame will lead her to quiet herself in public. And a little embarrassment never hurt anybody." Mr. Bennet smiled conspiratorially. "Lizzy has been remarkably improved since her battle with you at Jane's wedding. Eh, Darcy. Don't you agree?"
He'd come to accept their quarrel as having good consequences, but it was not a matter to be made fun of by anyone but Elizabeth. Darcy took a deep breath to push away his annoyance. "Surely, you cannot consider such serious matters with so little concern. It is not embarrassment I fear. Young girls can run themselves into serious trouble when they are detached from proper supervision. I have certain knowledge that at least one of the officers in Colonel Forster's regiment is a very poor character indeed."
"You refer to your Mr. Wickham? He may be a gambler and a spendthrift as Lizzy believes, but that hardly makes him a danger to my daughter."
"He has attempted to seduce at least one gentlewoman of Lydia's age."
"And what was the dowry of this gentlewoman?" When Darcy did not reply, Mr. Bennet said. "I daresay, it was quite large. I have read your friend's character — he is more fortune hunter than seducer. And Wickham is no fool. It would destroy his position in the regiment were he to trifle with a gentlewoman's daughter, and even with what Bingley's generosity might volunteer, Lydia is not worth enough for him to form a serious design upon her. No, there is no danger from that direction."
The mulishness of Mr. Bennet frustrated him. "Surely, you can see that a girl such as Lydia could find opportunity to shame herself in a manner which will bring discredit and shame upon all those connected to her. Does not the welfare of your other children concern you?"
"They are my children. You are not connected to Lydia. It is no concern of yours how I manage her. She is a foolish girl, but she knows better than to behave in an immoral manner."
The two men stared at each other. Mr. Bennet's informal dress left his neck visible. The muscles were taut with anger. Darcy began again, "I do have a strong interest in her wellbeing, I —"
"Enough!" Mr. Bennet took up again the volume of Tacitus and held it in the air. "I will hear nothing more on the matter of Lydia. No more. If this so concerns you, you should abandon whatever reasons make you care. This conversation entertained me, but the vices of the Roman Emperors call."
Darcy stood stiffly. "I am certain I need not assure you that my attempted interference was well meant."
"Yes, yes — I am sure your intentions are so noble they would put those of a saint to shame. Just tell Lizzy I no more enjoy it when others nag for her than I do when she bothers me direct."
As Darcy walked out the back into the house's garden, he met Elizabeth returned from her visit to Meryton, rosy cheeked and smiling. At Darcy's scowl, her smile fell, "What is the matter?"
He did not reply. Resentment welled again. Mr. Bennet should care. How had Elizabeth turned out so well? She took Darcy's arm. "Come, I have not walked near far enough this morning — have you seen the stream which goes through the tenants fields in the south? It is a pretty sight with a thicket about at parts."
Darcy willingly allowed Elizabeth to lead him. They were silent, but he knew if he kept his anger it would worry and annoy Elizabeth, "What are your favorite views here about? You have asked me so much about Pemberley that I only now realize I have been remiss in demanding a minute description of Longbourn."
"There is less to describe than you imagine. As you can see our gardens are not extensive, and there is barely a full park. We are quite modest. It is the hidden spots along the country lanes that are best worth finding."
"Please describe your favorites."
Elizabeth blushed and described a hidden alcove and bench in a forest on Mr. Goulding's land. They walked along the stream Elizabeth had mentioned then they crossed a small wooden foot bridge.
They fell silent.
She will never be easy until she embarrasses herself. What sort of man could think such a thing? Very likely the result would bring shame upon all connected to Lydia. Had he no paternal feeling? Did he care nothing for his own respectability?
"Please, tell me what bothers you so."
Elizabeth's voice was soft, and her warm eyes begged a response from him. "I spoke to your father about Lydia. I tried to convince him to keep her away from Brighton. He —"
All of Darcy's frustration and disappointment came back. He pulled his arm from Elizabeth's and threw his hands in the air. "How can such an irresponsible, foolish, stupid — how can such a man exist? He wishes — he really wishes your sister to embarrass herself. It delights him — all this time I thought him merely lazy. He is worse, more disreputable, than your mother."
Elizabeth began to sob.
Darcy felt sick. "Elizabeth — Lizzy. I apologize, I should not have spoken so, not of your father." Darcy tried to take her arm, but she pushed him away. Her breath hitched. "Please, don't cry, please. I don't mean it. I shouldn't have —"
"I have already said I do not wish you to pretend. It is true. I know it is. We are all disreputable embarrassments. No sane man would connect himself with any of us. I know it. You have said it yourself."
"Elizabeth, that is not true. I was wrong then. You know I no longer think that way."
"No matter what you think, my father is irresponsible and foolish, and Lydia will embarrass us all, and — oh, I wish my family were better. You will come to hate them. If even my father can offend you so — he must have mistreated you terribly. You will regret any connection to them."
Darcy took her hand. His stomach roiled at Elizabeth's unhappiness. He must have spoken some inner fear of hers. If only he had been less arrogant the previous autumn. If only he hadn't hurt her now. "I never will. I know my own mind. I — my affection, the sources of my esteem, are such that matters like this cannot touch them. No matter what your family is, that will never waver. Please say you trust me."
"I trust you. I do. If I did not…" Elizabeth swallowed and laughed anxiously. "My feelings are silly. I have acted as a goose. I am well again."
His stomach was still knotted with guilt. "I should not have said or thought that about your father. I —"
His apology boosted Elizabeth's mood. "Do not be absurd, you certainly should think that. If not the words, at least the sentiment. I said it was a hopeless case, and he was determined to push Lydia towards ruin. But so long as my father cannot change how you" — Elizabeth bit her lip and looked down — "It was sweet that you tried — I am very pleased you wanted to."
"I had some thought — well, many gentlemen are fools who rarely listen to women. I'd thought maybe your father was one, and if another man explained the dangers, he might —"
Elizabeth laughed; the sound removed most of Darcy's remaining anxiety. "You mistook your target. My father will listen to my reasons perfectly well. He is indolent, not dismissive. He just does not care and does not wish to hear reason for care."
They smiled at each other, and Elizabeth took Darcy's hand and squeezed it. "Even though you failed, I could wish no better champion."
Darcy squeezed her hand back, and things felt right between them on the walk back to Longbourn.
That evening Elizabeth replied to any attempt by her father to engage her with an offended silence. Why could he not be responsible? Elizabeth was sure Mr. Darcy had been treated abominably by her father.
Must every member of her family expose their worst behavior to him? Surely after so much he could not be scared off. But, might some member of her family finally act out in a way that would be too much for Darcy to accept?
The next time Darcy called at Longbourn, Mr. Bennet came out of his library to sit with the family and make teasing insults towards Darcy. Elizabeth begged him to stop that evening, but Mr. Bennet's response was, "So, you fear I'll frighten off your suitor? He is made of sterner stuff than that. He'd be long gone if he were not."
That night Elizabeth had a nightmare which startled her awake, shivering despite the summer heat. The end hung vividly in her imagination. I should not have married you.
Lydia had done something immoral and disgraceful in the dream, and Mama praised her for it, saying: Isn't she such a lively girl. What had been Lydia's crime? Elizabeth couldn't recall, but the moment Darcy stared into her eyes and claimed he regretted their attachment wouldn't fade.
She needed to trust him. He knew his own mind. She believed him. He would not come to regret her, no matter how horrid her family might behave. She had to believe that.
A silent agreement was made between Elizabeth and Darcy that she would call on the Bingleys with her mother — who insisted on visiting Jane near everyday — and Darcy would avoid Longbourn. With this policy in place things went very well between Elizabeth and Darcy.
Their conversations were like they had been at Rosings again: meaningful, engaging, and enlivening. In comparison to his former habits Darcy had become near a social butterfly, though he only was talkative with a few clever gentlemen he came to like or when Elizabeth was present.
Soon most of the neighborhood came to approve of him. The general expectation that Elizabeth would return from her trip to the north an engaged woman encouraged this shift. A man who would marry one of the local beauties and who further made a clear effort to modify his manners to please her could not be so bad.
Lydia left; Georgiana arrived.
Elizabeth liked the exchange. Georgiana was the sweetest dear, and they took to each other immediately. Within a few days they had become Lizzy and Georgie to each other and happily shared laughter and confidences. Though it was no surprise they liked each other: Seldom would two persons meet more eager to please and be pleased.
Georgiana was shy with all persons she was not close to. Watching her helped Elizabeth to understand Darcy's mannerisms better. They were much alike in many ways, and Elizabeth was sure with proper guidance Georgiana would develop a delightful sense of humor.
A few days before everyone departed for Pemberley, Darcy and Georgiana called with Jane and Bingley at Longbourn. Very early the next morning, Darcy was to travel to London for two days to settle matters of business in the capital before leaving the region entirely. Despite the tension between Darcy and Mr. Bennet, politeness required he call once before leaving the neighborhood.
Mrs. Bennet loudly clamped onto Bingley and ignored Mr. Darcy as she always had since he refused her request to allow Kitty in their party. Mr. Bennet attempted a few witticisms, but Darcy resolutely responded politely to each, so he tired of the game and returned to the library.
Elizabeth was tense. She feared disaster every time the Darcys were in the walls of her home. The image from the nightmare had faded, but the awful feeling it gave her flared again.
The call was not intended to be long, but a thunderstorm, which had threatened, burst. The hard rain kept everyone indoors. Mary loved to perform before any new audience, so before anyone brought out cards for a game, she announced her intention to play a concerto for them.
Elizabeth blushed for Mary's overly affected manner as she flourished her hands and sat stiffly in front of the modest instrument. But Darcy had seen it before, and Georgiana was too sweet to be amused. When Mary finished her piece everyone clapped politely, and she immediately began another.
As Mary played Georgiana's eyes lingered on the piano, and Elizabeth fancied her fingers twitched. Before Mary started a third piece, Elizabeth said, "Georgie, do you wish a turn?"
Georgiana blushed and looked at her brother, who smiled encouragingly. She nodded and said in her soft voice, "I would."
Mary made way with a pout. Georgiana settled herself and stretched her fingers before laying them on the ivory keys. She closed her eyes and began from memory. It was a complicated sonata by Beethoven, which Elizabeth would not dare try. The music had intense power. The adagio brought tears to Elizabeth's eyes, and everyone listened spellbound.
Mr. Bennet entered the room, drawn by the sound of Georgiana's playing. His movement drew Elizabeth's attention; he settled next to Mary, who stiffly listened with an intent frown.
When the melody ended with a beautiful crescendo, Georgiana looked about at everyone's loud applause and ducked her head shyly.
Mr. Bennet stood, still clapping. "That was the best playing that has ever been heard in Longbourn. Mary, if only you could play like that, people might wish to listen to you."
Elizabeth realized her sister had been near the edge of tears, and at her father's words she leapt to her feet. "I hate you!" She pointed at Georgiana and shouted, "I hate you too!"
Mary sobbed as she ran out of the room.
Georgiana's eyes drew together as she stared about with her hand against her cheek. Elizabeth was quite as ashamed of her family as she had ever been. Darcy sat next to Georgiana and gravely talked to her.
Jane went after Mary. Mr. Bennet grinned at Darcy and said, "Silly girl. She is so excitable. Women always make mountains out of trifles."
Elizabeth saw Darcy's face twitch with anger, and he stared at Mr. Bennet for an instant before speaking again to Georgiana.
"Miss Darcy," Mr. Bennet spoke, "that was divine. Truly divine, might you favor us with another piece?"
The rain had ceased as they listened, and with a brief glance out the window, Darcy said in a cold voice, "That will be impossible. We are leaving."
Darcy pulled Georgiana out of the room without looking back at Elizabeth. She should go after him to ensure things were right, but she felt too awful to move. Her family had hurt Georgiana. What if this finally disgusted him enough to destroy his affection?
Mr. Bennet left the room jauntily humming to himself. Bingley let loose a long frustrated breath. "Georgie is so shy. It will be no good for her to think she can bring other girls to frustrated tears like that. I feel worse for Mary; she tries so hard."
Elizabeth nodded dumbly, too full of her own ashamed misery to sympathize with Mary's unhappiness. It wouldn't change Darcy. He had been frustrated when he stalked away. It was nothing. She trusted him. But her stomach still hurt.
AN: So, the story is now complete on the A Happy Assembly site, if you don't want to wait for the next lovely updates.
Since the story is fully published on one site, I think it is time to plug Doctors Without Borders. Most of us are very rich compared to people in Afghanistan or the Congo, or the many other countries DWB works in. Doing something to help people in deeply impoverished parts of the world is literally a matter of life and death. I donate a few percent of my income, and it would make me very happy if I convinced any of my readers to join me.