Chapter 4

Elizabeth rose early the next morning, and called for a bath. She was soon ready for the day, but dawdled in her room until certain that Jane would be dressed. Elizabeth entered her sister's bedchamber to find the same maid who had attended her finishing her sister's hair. It was clear from her relieved face at seeing Elizabeth's attire just how worried Jane had been. She rushed over to hug her and enquire how she had slept. The answer was not at all, but Elizabeth did not say so, prevaricating by inviting Jane to stroll in the gardens before breakfast. They were able to take a short turn close to the house before being chased indoors by a drizzle borne on pregnant clouds. The rest of the household, excepting Mr. Hurst, had assembled and were in the middle of an elegant meal with tea and coffee being served in fine china cups.

Elizabeth's eyes flew to Mr. Darcy immediately. He, along with the rest of the party, had turned his head to watch them enter. As he was seated and she, standing, his grave countenance did not intimidate her and Elizabeth found herself cheered by her unexpected courage at this first meeting. He looked away first, to Elizabeth's immense satisfaction, and she sauntered to a seat across the table, ready to reclaim some pride and forget that she had ever had any private dealings with Mr. Darcy. He seemed to share her desire and, though by no means loquacious, he behaved agreeably to the others. He made no attempt to distinguish Elizabeth, however, which suited her just fine.

It was fortunate that Jane and Elizabeth had walked before breakfast. By the time the gentlemen could leave the table, due to a tardy Mr. Hurst, the light drizzle that had chased the Bennets indoors had become a deluge. It held the household captive within and cast a gloom over the residence, which dulled any pleasure they might find in their various diversions. Bingley and Darcy retired to the study to do what gentlemen generally do in that room. Hurst took the opportunity to stay and scavenge what was left of the breakfast meal, while the ladies relocated to the morning room. Jane's decisive movement to a chair in front of the window- clearly her chair- demonstrated that she had etched out a routine here at Netherfield, since Elizabeth had been confined to her rooms. Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt at having failed another of her sisters, abandoning her to their begrudging hosts.

The morning passed in such a tedious fashion, that the time spent sequestered in her room seemed, if not quite stimulating by comparison, at least preferable for its freedom. She could not politely excuse herself, yet it was clear that her presence was not welcomed by the Bingley sisters. Any conversation with those ladies was, on both sides, brief and strained. Neither could she bear to speak to Jane, both due to the beady eyes that she could feel cataloguing and criticising everything she said, and because that divide that she had felt these past weeks between her sister and herself was now a gaping chasm. She could no more relate to the faultless Jane than to that bony article threading her needle at the sewing table.

And so Elizabeth remained silent, for the most part, speaking only as much as required to maintain civility and her morning was spent observing the interaction between Bingley's sisters and Jane. She was astonished at the openly patronizing tone which the sisters took with her and no less so at Jane's apparent inability to recognise the contempt in which she was held. At one point, however, Miss Bingley left to speak to the cook and Mrs. Hurst took this opportunity to write a letter, thus avoiding the task of conversing alone with the Bennets. When both Bingley sisters were engaged in this way, Elizabeth saw that Jane let her guard down and it occurred to her, based on Jane's slumped shoulders and tense expression, that her sister had not been so blind to the Bingleys' insults after all. She was surprised, not by the sentiments they had expressed, which she had long suspected, but by their revealing these sentiments to Jane, who the pair seemed to view as a pet, of sorts. This did not bode well for her relationship with Bingley and Elizabeth knew she would have to consult Jane on the matter.


The lethargy and despondency that had settled over the household, not to mention the Bingley sisters' barely controlled disdain, dampened any enjoyment the otherwise excellent dinner that evening might have given. Elizabeth was determined to present a composed mask to Mr. Darcy, but this did not extend to feigning an appetite. Her sister was still troubled over her recent behaviour and was observing attentively to gauge her recovery. She noticed that Elizabeth served herself little and ate less. Mr. Darcy was the only other person paying such rapt attention; his mind was otherwise occupied than on her food intake.

He was aggravated by her presence, tormented and tempted, until he did not know which feeling won out. Yet a detailed fantasy would play out in front of his eyes, no matter how he fought it. In his thoughts he had somehow finagled himself into the seat beside her and dropped his hand to her thigh before bunching up her dress and executing that act on her- right there under the tablecloth- which she had last night so much desired. She would try to maintain her composure and carry on polite conversation as he took his turn to torment her. He caught himself ogling her, imagining what faces she would pull as she tried to stop herself from crying out at the final moment. He glanced around, taking care to see that he had not been observed in his musings and redoubling his resolve not to attend to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

The dour mood of the day did not dissipate before the commencement of the evening's entertainment in the drawing room. Mr. Bingley had spent less than twenty minutes in the dining room after the ladies had left it and his presence brought some relief to their tedium of tense silences and insincere admiration of each other's embroidery. The other gentlemen, however, spent even longer in the dining room than the customary hour of separation. Miss Bingley thought this odd, as she knew that Mr. Darcy was not overly fond of her brother-in-law.

When they finally entered, an aroma of spirits wafted from them and even Mr. Hurst seemed to have outdone himself in the quantity of his libation- which was no small feat. He was full of energy and jollier than most in the group had ever seen him. Even his wife had to strain her memory to produce a parallel. He was in such fine form, that his usual spot on the couch could not lure him and he most insistently and loudly requested that Miss Bingley organise some parlour games, if they would not have cards. (The entire party had grown weary of Mr. Hurst's insatiable enthusiasm for that pastime, as well as his skill in separating them from the contents of their purses, and none had been willing to join him at the card table of late).

Miss Bingley was becoming alarmed by his conduct. She offered to entertain the gentlemen on the pianoforte, hoping that this would distract him long enough for him to fall asleep as usual, but was forced to retire after just one piece. Mr. Hurst, not to be discouraged so easily, had spent half of the tune trying to pull his wife out of her chair. When he had succeeded in that he strong-armed her into dancing with him- his own movements unrecognisable as anything that belonged in polite society. When she had finally wriggled out of his grasp and fled back to her seat, he, without preamble, turned to the Miss Bennets, who sat side by side on a low couch, and took them by their wrists, apparently intent on dancing with both at once. Fortunately for them, Miss Bingley, with some clever improvisation, managed to end the song smoothly at that point, and Hurst remained oblivious to the discomfort he was causing the entire room.

Darcy, for once, had matched Hurst drink for drink after dinner, unwilling to commence the evening of torture that he was sure was before him without some fortification. He really was foxed now, and was surprised to find that Mr. Hurst had grown on him as they progressed through the decanter of whiskey. Listening to Hurst's ridiculous anecdotes, he had to work very hard to keep an unaffected countenance, with so much alcohol in him. He wanted nothing more than to grin from ear to ear at his undignified display and he was feeling quite generous towards the man and content in himself when the time came to move to the drawing room. His benevolence towards Hurst persisted through his antics with his wife, which Darcy secretly thought, though undignified and embarrassing for both, were comical to watch.

But when Hurst grabbed Elizabeth's wrist and bodily removed her from her seat, it sent a surge of ice through Darcy's veins and he realised his mistake in getting drunk. He had only amplified his struggles over Elizabeth. Presently, though he had not forgotten their disagreement of last night, his general softening due to his state of inebriation was making him susceptible to her charms once more. He was still lucid enough to realise that he was in grave danger, but cut enough that he felt unable to restrain himself from coming to her aid.

Hurst was about to take the lady by her waist when Miss Bingley ceased playing. By the time she had done so, both Darcy and Bingley had jumped from their seats and made a step towards the trio. Neither knew how to convey their displeasure in terms that would, in the one case, not disgrace him as a host, and in the other, not betray his jealous outrage. Darcy was very much conscious of the symmetry of his and Bingley's situations. Fearing that the keen eyed Miss Bingley would recognise his own infatuation, as she had long ago done in her brother's case, he quickly suggested, in a voice that he strained to give the tenor of sobriety, that they follow Mr. Hurst's proposal of a parlour game.

On hearing Mr. Darcy's wish, Miss Bingley would have moved heaven and earth to grant it. Happily, it required only the rearranging of furniture, and several sheets of paper. The game they were to play was Consequences, in deference, Miss Bingley obsequiously declared, to Mr. Darcy's superior way with the written word. The man himself took the time required by the servants to prepare the room to brace himself; he could not afford to act the lovesick fool. Hurst, not happy being the only (apparent) inebriate in the group, insisted that while the footmen were rearranging the furniture everyone be supplied with wine, which they duly were. When Miss Bingley called them to the table all had finished their glasses and been poured another, again at Hurst's insistence.

An odd, uninhibited atmosphere, took hold of the party, due to the combination of the wine, the oppression of a dreary day spent indoors, and the influence of Hurst's peculiar actions. Said Hurst was first to plonk himself in a chair, dragging his wife with him by the hand. Mrs. Hurst was disturbed by his attentiveness and suspected that she knew what was in store for her when they retired to their chambers that evening. Bingley escorted both Bennet sisters to sit on either side of him at the round table. Darcy, cursing his foolishness even as he did it, sat beside Elizabeth, with Mrs. Hurst on his left, and Miss Bingley was left to sit between Jane Bennett and Mr. Hurst (1).

When pencils and paper had been distributed, Miss Bingley took great pleasure in reviewing the rules of the game (2) as officiously as she could. Elizabeth was feeling extremely uncomfortable at Darcy's proximity. She glanced sideways in his direction, not daring to look at him directly, and could sense him doing much the same. She could detect the faint, sweet scent of spirits on him, but it was not as strong as she had thought it would be (Hurst was obviously carrying the greater part of the burden in that regard). He did not speak to her, and his conduct since joining the ladies after dinner had been no cause for alarm. Yet, the fragrant reminder of his drunken state scared her, if she was willing to admit it. A drunken Darcy would not be restrained and his customary reserved manner, though infuriating, was what she knew. She could predict what a sober Darcy would do(in company at any rate), yet she had begun to see that his surface concealed an emotional interior, which she was frightened to think might react quite violently towards her if unleashed.

Her mind was so full of Darcy that she could think of no other topic to write about when the game commenced. She took up her piece of paper and began the story with a male adjective and name, Haughty Denby, then folded it so that the word was hidden and passed it to the Mr. Bingley on her right. Darcy was in a similar position. His thoughts on her were more pleasant, but he would not give in to his attraction and forced himself to think of their past arguments as he began to write.

Elizabeth was on Mr. Darcy's right and the manner in which his hand lingered on the paper he handed her, caused her heart to thump in her ears. She reached out and took the page, both their hands resting on it for a moment, fingers almost touching as she took it. They continued through the game, writing a female adjective and name, the place they met, and what the man wore, passing the pages to the right between each round. By now, she and Darcy had established a routine. He would fold his page, holding it out halfway between them, and wait for her to reach out. His hand would remain a moment next to hers, but he would remove it before it drew general attention, and she would take the paper to write her next word. This exchange may have seemed tender to a casual observer, but Elizabeth knew better: tension rolled off Darcy and, she imagined, her as well. She never saw a word of what he had written, but she would wager anything that his story involved her, as hers did him. They were alone in a bubble of tension and Elizabeth feared that at any moment it would burst.

They continued the game, writing what the female character wore, what they both said and the consequences of this, each time passing the sheet to the neighbour on their right, before continuing to the next phrase. Had Elizabeth or Darcy been more aware of their surroundings, they may have noticed the strange behaviour of other participants in the game. Mr. Hurst was the most obvious, snickering deviously every time he finished a section of his story. Bingley and Jane were periodically glancing at each other in a furtive manner, but each missing the other's lovesick gazes. Finally, when each piece of paper had been passed eight times they finished their stories with what the world said about the tale. When the story they were holding was completed, each folded it over one last time and placed it in a hat Miss Bingley provided. She walked around the table one more time to have each person pull a story from it to read to the group.

Miss Bingley volunteered to read first. She unfolded her piece of paper in a way that she imagined would add to the suspense and began:

"Sweet John met accomplished Catherine in her… - Oh I cannot read this one at all- the penmanship is atrocious, like something a child would attempt!" At this she gave a very pointed look between her brother and Mr. Hurst (the latter being the culprit on this occasion). "He wore a beaver hat. She wore white. He said, 'I understand.' She said, 'I am not engaged, sir.' As a consequence they came to an understanding. And the world said, 'What a superb match.'"

Darcy and Elizabeth had both been listening carefully, for the phrase the other had written. This was easily discovered, as they needed only to listen for their own line and use it to locate the other's: Elizabeth's would always follow directly after Darcy's, as she was beside him at the table. Darcy's contribution, 'She wore white' did not give much of a pointer as to the content of his story. "He said, 'I understand.''' by Elizabeth, held intriguing possibilities for Darcy, on the other hand.

Similarly, the others at the table could use their own phrase to situate each other person's donation to the story; though it became more difficult the farther from them that person was seated. So it could be discovered by an astute listener that the order of the story was: "Sweet John [Miss Jane Bennet] met accomplished Catherine [Miss Caroline Bingley] in her… [Mr. Hurst] He wore a beaver hat. [Mrs. Hurst] She wore white. [Mr. Darcy] He said, 'I understand.' [Miss Elizabeth Bennet] She said, 'I am not engaged, sir.' [Mr. Bingley] As a consequence they came to an understanding. [Miss Jane Bennet] And the world said, 'What a superb match.' " [Miss Caroline Bingley]

Mr. Hurst, indignant that his contribution had not been heard, stood up then, and pronounced that he would read next:

"Dastardly Richard met tedious Tilly in the library. He wore a scowl." This yielded a scowl from one of the occupants at the table, who recognised the unflattering description of himself. "She wore the garb of an angel." No one was deluded as to the author that line. The lady whom it could be reasonably assumed was the object of this description blushed delicately, and Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst met each other's eyes before rolling them in unison. Hurst continued, "He said 'I am lost.' She said 'You are most gracious, sir.' As a consequence..." Here Mr. Hurst paused significantly with a glint in his eye that boded no good. He took a large breath and boomed, "They had a lovely bit of rumpy pumpy. And the world said 'What a rake!' "

The room gasped collectively at this, Bingley implored, "Hurst, Really!" and Mrs. Hurst gave her husband a slap in the nearest body part she could reach. The man himself was roaring with laughter and, even when he eventually sat down, still chuckled to himself in such undiluted amusement as is only afforded to the very young, or very drunk.

"I apologise, ladies, for my brother's inebriated profanity," Bingley continued. "Please feel free to disregard his contributions on your own pages. Unless… you don't think we should stop the game? Perhaps it would be improper to continue?"

This last was directed at Darcy, who felt that his hands were tied. It indeed would be improper to continue, but he was so curious as to what Elizabeth had written that he searched for an answer to the question that would allow them to do just that. He was not alone in this desire- most of the other participants were eager to hear the words of another, or, in Hurst's case, himself. Elizabeth knew that the phrase 'in the library' in the last storyhad been Darcy's. She felt certain she knew the subject of his writing and she both longed to hear his account and dreaded the same.

Only Mrs. Hurst did not have a particular story in mind, but she was curious and, unembarrassed by her own motives, was the person to say, "Oh, it is harmless, Charles. Let us not waste our efforts thus far because of one silly man's joke." Little did they know that Mrs. Hurst had written a rather risqué tale herself. The others at the table cautiously and quietly agreed, none wanting to stick their head above the parapet to frankly declare their wish to continue. Eventually, through anonymous muttered agreement, the game continued.

Bingley, as host, volunteered to run the gauntlet of Hurst's imagination and read his story next. With some trepidation he unfolded his paper and did so:

"Enamoured Christopher met shy Mary at his estate. He wore a magnificent tiger pelt. She wore silk slippers. He said, 'I shall help you.' She said, 'I thank you,'" Bingley read.

Elizabeth and Darcy turned as one and looked into each other's eyes for the first time that evening. Elizabeth realised that she never had thanked him for his efforts to comfort her, as she had written, and felt sorry for it, despite, or perhaps because of what had later passed between them. She was thankful now that she saw no evidence of hostility in his gaze, and tried to silently communicate her regret. Bingley read on, the others' attention on him, and Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy could continue to contemplate each other unobserved

"As a consequence, they fell in love." They both tried to feign complacency, but their mutual discomfort led them to look away with similar, but unequal regret at the moment ending. "And the world said, 'She is the most fortunate creature that ever existed.' Neither Mr. Darcy nor Elizabeth heard this last line, lost as they were in their own discomfort.

Miss Bingley, not at all happy with how this game had turned out, immediately called on Jane to read, which she did in her usual gentle lilt: "Wicked John met weeping Elise in the empty library. He wore his Sunday best. She wore a red pelisse. He said, 'You are very welcome to my home.' She said 'Take me now.' " Jane surprised them all with neither blushing cheek nor quavering voice as she read this and Bingley smiled in perverse admiration. Jane continued, after only the briefest of pauses, "As a consequence she struck him. And the world said 'Henceforth, be on your guard.'" Elizabeth had kept track of the contributors after her own 'in the empty library', and so knew that 'Henceforth, be on your guard,' was Darcy's writing, as the paper had come back around full circle by that time in the game. Her mooning over the last story was brought to an abrupt halt, when she considered the meaning of his words. She was left frowning in confusion and apprehension: was this a message for her? A threat?

By the time Mrs. Hurst stood to read, the players had become less attentive to the game and occasionally chatted amongst themselves, the novelty of the vulgarity having worn off. Miss Bingley, while trying to keep an eye on Darcy's interaction with Eliza, was also frantically trying to piece his story together, but lacked the quickness to catch more than half of it.

Mrs Hurst began, "Haughty Denby met heavenly Joy in the woods. He wore a resplendent green coat. She wore no stays. He said, 'I have a private box.' She said, 'Yes, please!' As a consequence, the gentleman proved that he was no gentleman." Darcy's glower, however, was so deep by now, at Elizabeth's insult of calling him 'haughty', that his brows almost touched and he huffed out a breath through his nostrils. The momentary détente between them was well and truly over on both sides.

Bingley continued, "And the world said, 'They make a charming couple.'" The rest of the table broke out in a gale of laughter at this story. Darcy and Elizabeth sat in their places, each endeavouring to edge as far from the other as possible.

Miss Bingley, in her most seductive voice, urged Mr. Darcy to read next. He stammered slightly as he began, recognising his own words. "Desperate William met foolish Lisa at the ball. He wore a smile. She wore finest silk. He said, 'Show us your-'" Mr. Darcy stopped abruptly and glowered at Hurst, before muttering, "I am not reading that." He shook his head minutely, allowing the others to imagine how that sentence might end.

"She said, 'You scoundrel!' … As a consequence, she tried to take advantage. His bitter tone in reading his own words caught the attention of everyone at the table and he had to visibly calm himself. "And the world said, 'Never let it be known.'" He frowned at the last words on the page- Elizabeth's- and she could see that he was trying to use this new piece of the puzzle to complete her story.

Elizabeth was doing some puzzling herself and when she had put his story together she was fuming: "Desperate William met weeping Elise in the library. He wore _. She wore white. He said 'I shall help you.' She said 'Yes, please!' As a consequence, she tried to take advantage. And the world said 'Henceforth be on your guard.'": it was his side of the incident in the library and its aftermath and it painted her as manipulative and heartless (3).

She had never aimed to ingratiate herself to Mr. Darcy, but knowing that anyone could have such a base opinion of her was mortifying. Elizabeth was in agony at this point and wanted nothing more than to run away, or grab Darcy's head between her hands and scream into his face; to ask him why he behaved as he did- so contradictorily. She was taken back to that moment when he had brought her to ecstasy and to their ugly altercation in his bed chamber the night before and the recollection of it all, here in this well-lit room, surrounded by these people, was too much.

She rose suddenly, gaining the notice of the whole table and announced "Forgive me, I am feeling unwell. If you will all excuse me, I shall retire early- Goodnight." She was already making her way to the door.

Miss Bingley was, for once, unwilling to see her go. "But Eliza, the game is not yet finished! There is one more story to read, and you were due your turn." (4)

She continued with an aside to no-one in particular, "Some people just cannot abide by the group- they must always have some drama of their own going on!"

Elizabeth did not look back or even acknowledge her. She did stop at the door, however, and grabbed the frame she had meant to walk through. The footman on the other side looked at her inquiringly a moment before she fell to the floor and the room went dark.


This chapter was very complicated to write, and, I'm sure, just as complicated to read. I tried to make the game of Consequences as clear as I could, without beating you over the head with it, or giving away anything too soon. I've included lots of end notes, as I said, and hope that may make it easier to figure out who wrote each contribution to each story, though that's not strictly necessary to know anyone's other than Darcy and Elizabeth.

The 1st endnote is the order of the party around the table, which is what gives away who wrote each entry, the 2nd is a general description of the game of consequences, the 3rd, the story as written by each of the characters (though each part was written on a different sheet in the game) and the 4th is the remaining story, which Elizabeth was due to read.


(1) Just to clarify, the order of the party around the round table is: Darcy; Elizabeth; Bingley; Jane; Miss Bingley; Hurst; Mrs. Hurst (who sits beside Darcy).

(2) Consequences: Each person takes a turn choosing a word or phrase for one of nine questions, in this order:

Adjective for a man, a man's name

Adjective for a woman, a woman's name

Where they met

He wore

She wore

He said to her

She said to him

And the consequence was…

What the world said

Then the story is read (for example):

Mediocre Joe met transparent Kim at the bowling alley.

Joe wore a seafoam green leisure suit. Kim wore a sandwich board. Joe said to Kim "During the last storm, we had a little party in the mud." Kim said "She wasn't that into me." As a consequence, the band got back together. And the world said "Somehow, I think I saw this coming."

(Wikipedia: wiki/Consequences_(game))

(3) Here are the stories written by each person in order as they sit around the table:

Darcy

Desperate William met weeping Elise in the library. He wore black. She wore white. He said, 'I shall help you.' She said, 'Yes, please!' As a consequence, she tried to take advantage. And the world said, 'Henceforth, be on your guard.'

Elizabeth

Haughty Denby met foolish Lisa in the empty library. He wore a scowl. She wore mourning clothes. He said, 'I understand.' She said, 'I thank you.' As a consequence, the gentleman proved that he was no gentleman. And the world said, 'Never let it be known.'

Mr. Bingley

Enamoured Christopher met heavenly Joy at the ball. He wore his Sunday best. She wore the garb of an angel. He said, 'May I be so bold as to claim the next two dances?' She said, 'I am not engaged, sir.' As a consequence, they fell in love. And the world said, 'They make a charming couple.'

Jane

Sweet John met shy Mary in the woods. He wore a smile. She wore a red pelisse. He said to her 'I am lost.' She said, 'I will show you the way'. As a consequence, they came to an understanding. And the world said 'She is the most fortunate creature that ever existed.'

Miss Bingley

Stately William met accomplished Catherine at his estate. He wore fitted breeches. She wore finest silk. He said, 'You are very welcome to my home.' She said, 'You are most gracious, sir.' As a consequence, they were married in front of friends and family. And the world said, 'What a superb match.'

Mr. Hurst

Dastardly Richard met ravishing Kate in her boudoir. He wore a magnificent tiger pelt. She wore no stays. He said to her, 'Show us your tits!' She said to him, 'Take me now.' As a consequence, they had a lovely bit of rumpy pumpy. And the world said, 'What a lovely pair.'

Mrs. Hurst

Wicked John met tedious Tilly at the theatre. He wore a beaver hat. She wore silk slippers. He said 'I have a private box.' She said, 'You scoundrel!' As a consequence, she struck him. And the world said, 'What a rake!'

(4) This is the remaining story which never gets read as Elizabeth leaves early:

Stately William met ravishing Kate at the theatre. He wore black. She wore mourning clothes. He said 'May I be so bold as to claim the next two dances?' She said 'I will show you the way.' As a consequence, they were married in front of friends and family. And the world said, 'What a lovely pair.'