AN: As I said, this chapter was almost done when I posted the previous one, so I finished it up to post :) Don't get used to it lol - I'll be back on the biweekly update schedule after this.
For those of you who've commented saying how awful Caroline is, perfect! That's exactly what I was going for. For those of you saying Darcy should try harder, couldn't agree more... he just needs to get over the idea that Elizabeth will be all over him just because he's Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberly. For those of you who think Elizabeth shouldn't be letting Caroline push her around, give the poor girl a break, she's sicker than she's letting on :/ Also she's on to Caroline, don't worry.
Darcy's already in a sour mood, and the arrival of Mr. Hurst does nothing to lift his spirits.
His earlier resolution to find a way to speak to Elizabeth has been thwarted at every turn. He was too late to join her and Caroline for their walk about the grounds. He had nothing to contribute while they played piano. And he certainly was not going to indulge their ridiculous reading of some senseless romance. Dinner is his next hope, but it's hard to rally one's spirits when listening to an imbecile like Mr. Hurst.
The man in question turns up shortly after Elizabeth left to check on her sister. As soon as he enters the room, an endless tirade begins. He complains about the weather and his ride and the business that detained him and the terrible food at the inn that morning. Each comes in such rapid succession that Charles has no time to express his sympathies out before the next grievance is out. Louisa, with years of experience dealing with the man, waits patiently for him to reach the end (or rather, until he runs out of breath and has to stop for a drink from the decanter), and then consoles him with talk of dinner and a promise of cards.
It's all he can do to bite his tongue as he scowls out the window.
("We've all been subjected to the poor weather, but you were the idiot who put off travel until the worst of it.")
He blocks out the whining and idle chatter, lets his mind consider the day. As discreetly as he could, he stole glances at Elizabeth. He wants to better understand this woman who is apparently his soulmate, but what he sees he's not terribly sure he cares for. The whole time she's been at Netherfield, she's looked bored and her expression has been distant. She seems like she's putting on a show of affability, but even so she can't summon up the energy necessary to look entertained.
It agitates him to think that Elizabeth is so dull. Even that would perhaps be bearable, for anyone could be improved by reading and the right company, if she were at least handsome. He can't find her anything but common looking. Her features are quite ordinary, together making a face that is not displeasing to behold but one that doesn't stay fixed in one's mind. None of her features have any faults, necessarily. Her lips are a bit small and her skin too tan, but those are minor grievances. It's rather that nothing stands out. There's no one, singular feature to act as a counterbalance.
He will admit that on rare occasion, her eyes will light up and render her whole countenance quite pretty. But he's only seen it once or twice, and usually when speaking of her sister. And of course there was that moment outside when she interrupted him. He could've sworn he'd seen- Well, something.
And if he were to put a finger on what bothers him most, he'd have to say it's her friendship with Caroline. Alone there might still be a chance that Elizabeth has something interesting to say, but the two women together are the epitome of what Darcy dislikes about the Ton. Conversation of no substance. Activities done for the sake of saying one did them instead of actual enjoyment. Worse, Elizabeth happily follows Caroline's lead.
Darcy may have forgiven Caroline (or rather, he's decided to stop holding it against Bingley that he despises his sister and will not be publicly rude to her), but it's an extremely vexing thought that his soulmate would be friends with her. It's so off-putting that he feels a little ill. What does it say of her judgement of character that she would have one such as Caroline Bingley as an intimate?
(He ignores, of course, that he was taken in by Caroline's charm at first. That he would still be on good terms with her if it weren't for her indiscretion.)
And then he considers what he knows of the Bennets. They are not a wealthy family, from what he can tell. They have an estate, but he thinks he remembers Sir Lucas saying it was entailed away from the daughters. Their clothing and hair styles show there is care put into their appearance, and the money to allow them to do so. Nonetheless they lack the same splendor of young ladies with more sizable dowries. Yet it would be unfair of him to hold that against Elizabeth. He always assumed his would be the more affluent in any match he made. Perhaps he expected his future wife to have more, but it's hardly more than a trifling detail.
Jane is a local beauty. Certainly polite and refined as any man could wish for. The two younger ones were a menace to the men at the ball, hounding them each in turn for a dance. Darcy and Bingley managed to escape only by grace of not being as fun as the younger gentleman in attendance (or so one of the girls had so loudly declared as she pushed her way through the crowd in search of another partner). Not ideal behavior in future younger sisters. Alone it would be meaningless and easily overlooked, corrected even, but he finds himself surrounded by an increasing number of unappealing circumstances.
When he imagined what his future soulmate might be like, he'd hoped for so much more.
Which needless to say means to them starting dinner earlier than planned. Mr. Hurst, manners be damned, insists upon at least sitting at the table to wait for Miss Bennet to arrive. It takes a combined front of both Charles and Darcy to stop him from ordering the servants to bring in the meal before she got the chance to come downstairs.
The only hope of maintaining the peace is Caroline and Louisa's efforts to distract them all with conversation.
"How was your business with Mr. W-?" Caroline asks politely. They all know she doesn't give a fig about him or his family, but it's certainly better than hearing another moment of his whining about dinner.
"Hmm? Oh, what a pompous ass!"
Bingley laughs awkwardly while Louisa glares at her husband. Normally such an outburst would warrant some sort of reproach, but given that it's just family she doesn't bother. Even his own presence isn't enough inducement, probably because he's heard for worse over the course of their acquaintance.
And this, in part, is why he's so baffled with Louisa. She is a respectable, intelligent woman who had to saddle herself with such a buffoon for the sake of societal pressure. To not appear a spinster, as though that's anything to object to. He'd certainly rather his own sister remain unwed if the only alternative is to subject herself to such a situation.
If only Louisa had a soulmate. The more he's thought on it, the more firm he is in her conclusion that she's one of the rare few without one. There's nothing to stop her from marrying any man that suited her. Unless of course he weren't wealthy enough, but he doubts any man like that would tempt Louisa. So no, it's more likely she has none. It would also explain her general boredom whenever the topic is brought up. Though she does seem interested in Charles' quest for his soulmate, but he suspects that has everything to do with concern for her brother than the topic in general.
Caught up as he is in his musing, he loses the thread of the conversation. It's only when he feels eyes on him that he realizes someone's asked his opinion.
"I'm sorry?"
Caroline smiles graciously at him while Mr. Hurst harumphs in annoyance. "I was wondering what you thought of his daughters?"
"Oh." He tries to recall his last few encounters with Mr. W- and his family. He's a decent man, but Darcy's last visit involved him aggressively throwing his daughters at him. "I can't say I'm too fond of them."
Charles is, as always, quick to defend them. "None of them? Darcy, you're being too severe! They're such lovely girls!"
"One of them is albeit rather handsome, though perhaps a little mousy and her taste is rather unrefined." He nearly shudders at the memory of her bright pink bonnet and matching parasol. And dear god, the sheer amount of lace she'd employed in her ensemble - surely Georgiana did not possess so much if one were to put all her outfits together.
"The younger ones are something of a menace, I hear," Louisa adds helpfully. "Though the the one sister I would also say is pretty. The brunette. Or least she has the potential to be, should she spend the time to clean herself up."
Darcy knew just the one she meant. The youngest one could easily be regarded as pretty, if only she were to sit still long enough for her hair to be done properly. It was easily ignored when she was younger, but now it was no longer charming. "I doubt she's up to the effort of trying. Never mind that her appearance is wanting, she's lacking the necessary charms and skills a lady ought to possess in order to be accomplished."
"She plays the piano tolerably well," Bingley points out. "All of the sisters do."
"As does half of England," Caroline drawls. "I'm inclined to agree with Mr. Darcy, but a young lady these days needs far more in her repertoire than 'playing piano tolerably well' if she wants to claim to be accomplished."
He instantly regrets his words. The idea of siding with Caroline on any issue makes him want to take the opposite stance out of spite. But it would be disingenuous, given that it is his opinion. Instead of arguing for the sake of arguing, he keeps his mouth carefully shut and leaves it to Caroline and Louisa to discuss the list of qualifications needed to be a truly accomplished woman these days.
"Surely you have more to say on the matter, Mr. Darcy. Would you want your sister to be such a girl, with no talents to her name?" Caroline prods him when he continues to remain silent.
"Of course not," he nearly snaps. As aggravated as he is, there's nothing to be gained from open hostility, so he reels it in.
"Nor surely would you want your future bride to be such a woman."
The fact that it isn't a question but a simple statement of fact irks him more than anything else. He's about to say as much, to tell Caroline to stop being so damn presumptuous, when there's a creak at the door.
The men quickly stand and make a short bow to acknowledge Elizabeth's entrance. Darcy perks up a little at he prospect of seeing her again, an effect that's compounded when their eyes meet. A spark passes between them, some silent communication. He's not seen her eyes so vibrant or alive since meeting her, and it stirs something inside him.
All his earlier melancholy disappears and a spark of hope lights up within him.
AN: Oh man Darcy. You *just* made a mistake of having Elizabeth overhear you, and it doesn't occur to you that it just happened again? You're not doing yourself any favors here, bud.
