A/N: Longish chapter today, but not big enough to split. Wade
Much to her surprise, Elizabeth found the bustle of her aunt's house disconcerting. She had always been a social creature, so feeling shy was unusual to say the least. She could not say precisely why she found it so. She wondered if it was the burden of carrying the secret of her courtship (let alone her potential engagement) or perhaps it was simply that she had a lot on her mind and was not in a mood for idle chatter. Either way, she was a guest and as such, she would do her duty—but would rather have passed on the opportunity.
The first hour was spent speaking to several ladies (and not a few gentlemen) who were burning with curiosity about the events of the previous week. It was impossible to keep secret their escape from Netherfield, the defection of the Bingleys, and Mr Darcy's extraordinary apology.
The questions were on everybody's tongues. What happened at Netherfield? Why did Mr Darcy make such a generous gesture? Why exactly had Elizabeth introduced him after she had been so egregiously slighted at the assembly? Did he really call on Longbourn not once, but twice? Why was he absent? What about Mr Collins? What was his story? Was he eligible? Available? Amiable? Solvent?
All in all, Elizabeth found the whole thing exhausting, but it was easy enough to make deflecting answers to their queries that satisfied no one but could not be refuted: They left Netherfield because Jane was not as sick as they at first believed—simple, really. They rode and walked because it was a nice day. Mr Darcy apologised because he realised he had made a bad first impression, and when he became aware of it, he acted in a gentlemanlike manner. Elizabeth introduced him because it was her duty as a lady. Mr Darcy was, to the best of her knowledge, fox hunting that day… and why would they suppose he would be present at a hastily arranged card party anyway? Mr Collins was the heir presumptive to Longbourn and had a good living in Kent. He appeared eligible, but it would be best to discuss such matters with the man himself.
On and on the questions and answers went until she felt like she had beat the subjects of both gentlemen to death ten times over. None of the answers were comprehensive per se, nor were all strictly true—but they were sufficient to assuage the curiosity of her audience for a time.
She at long last got some relief with the introduction of the officers, whose duties had only recently ended. Aside from his extraordinary apology, Mr Darcy had made surprisingly little impression on the people in the room, so they were happy to let their curiosity lapse. On top of that, Mr Darcy was not present while the officers were. The younger and sillier ladies of the room were fully enamoured with them while some mothers shared their enthusiasm. Regardless of their marital prospects, the soldiers were generally acknowledged as jolly good entertainment, as Sir William observed.
Like a fresh breeze blowing in and clearing out a smoky room, all thoughts of Mr Darcy and Mr Collins were abandoned in favour of the new acquaintances. Aunt Philips had outdone herself by inviting a half-dozen along with Colonel Forster—all welcome.
Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief at finishing that part of the evening. A quick glance at Jane and Mary showed they joined her.
As Elizabeth saw the militia officers being greeted politely (and verbosely) by her undle, she overheard her cousin.
Mr Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he declared he might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast parlour at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much gratification; but when Mrs Phillips understood from him what Rosings was, and who was its proprietor—when she had listened to the description of only one of Lady Catherine's drawing-rooms, and found that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds—she felt all the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison with the housekeeper's room.
Elizabeth stopped listening, much as she usually did when her younger sisters started screeching, so she was spared yet another description of all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her mansion, with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble abode. Her aunt seemed happy to listen to Mr Collins prattle on, and Elizabeth was more than happy to leave the two of them to their sport.
She deliberately moved to where she could not hear the man at all to observe the militia officers escape from her uncle.
Mr Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself. She did not care in the least about the soldier, but the evening had been such a relentless combination of dullness and trepidation thus far, any relief seemed a boon. The agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, made her feel that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker—for about a quarter-hour. After that, the same feelings she had experienced on the street began to take precedence. After a week of very powerful conversations with her sisters, Mr Darcy, and even her own mother—small talk had very little appeal. She also ruefully admitted that she was still comparing every man to Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham came up short (again)—and yet she strove to at least be polite.
She finally attempted to move beyond weather and the like out of sheer boredom. "I see you have just joined the militia, Mr Wickham. Can you tell me your previous occupation?"
"My father was a steward, and my godfather gave me a gentleman's education. I was supposed to get a valuable family living but it was not to be."
Elizabeth thought that was an awful lot of detail for an acquaintance of less than an hour. "Well, that is unfortunate… but you do have an education. Most cannot boast of such fortune."
"Yes, my patron was very generous. He was the finest man I ever knew."
"If you planned to take a living, I assume you took orders? My cousin was recently granted one, and he may know of other available situations. He claims his patroness is very active, and she may well be able to assist? Would you like me to introduce you?"
The man looked like he swallowed a bug and Elizabeth wondered what had occurred. Had he had a falling out with his godfather or his heir? Had he failed to even take orders? Why was a man of his age with a gentleman's education starting a new profession at the bottom?
The questions in her mind were numerous, though hardly worthy of much attention. If his godfather gifted him a gentleman's education, he should consider himself well favoured. Complaining about missing a prize ten times his worth and having to accept five, to an acquaintance of half an hour, seemed very wrong—although she supposed she probably deserved what she got for asking the question in the first place.
Fortunately for Elizabeth's equanimity, the officer seemed to be out of things to say—or perhaps uncomfortable with the topic. He excused himself politely and gallantly (too gallantly by half in her mind) and left for some imaginary meeting with one of his fellow officers. She watched him go with a feeling of good riddance, and promptly forgot about him.
She went to get some punch herself. Over the next half-hour as she spoke to her friends, she noticed a couple of curious things.
The first was that the crowd's appetite for gossip about the Netherfield residents seemed to be sated. Nobody asked a single question. She found it odd, but was relieved of any obligation to speak about them.
She also noticed that Mr Wickham seemed to be working his way through every attractive woman in the room. He spoke to Jane for a few minutes, but she gave him surprisingly short shrift and he went away before long. He spoke briefly to Charlotte and Mary but was obviously not particularly interested in either. Of course, neither lady had the slightest interest in him anyway, so it was a bit of a moot point.
She found herself solicited by several of the officers for conversation. While she found most of them amiable enough and she would have been very well entertained earlier in her life—something about the conversations bothered her. None of the other officers raised her hackles like Mr Wickham, but something about talking with them just made her uncomfortable for no apparent reason.
She eventually noticed that her younger sisters had captured the attention of the officers, including Mr Wickham. While she had nothing against the man per se, she did think an evening dealing with her sisters' abject silliness might teach him a lesson. She had no idea what he might learn, but it should build character. After all, he was free to leave the table when he got tired of them (which she judged would be in a half-hour at best).
Eventually, she escaped the men by forming a mutual defence pact. She joined Jane, Charlotte, and Mary to take ownership of a whist table that only had room for four and started a game.
Much to their mutual satisfaction, the four ladies found their table isolated enough that they could speak in relative privacy. Elizabeth occasionally noticed disapproving glances from her aunt, and she supposed to that meant the matron expected them to be hunting the plentiful game in the room. Fortunately, it was as easy to ignore their aunt as their mother.
Whist proceeded in a more orderly fashion than backgammon had, but not by very much, since all the ladies seemed distracted.
Jane asked, "What were you discussing with Mr Wickham, Lizzy? I sensed that you were uncomfortable."
"It was not so much the conversation per se. At the end we got into a rather unusual topic, but I actually found the entire discussion slightly disconcerting."
Jane nodded encouragingly while Mary and Charlotte listened intently.
"Mr Wickham, and the other officers for that matter, seem amiable enough. They are easy in conversation, but I just did not feel up to it."
Jane seemed deep in thought for a few moments. "I observed the same reaction and I do not even have a —"
She stopped abruptly, apparently realising she was about to let the cat out of the bag.
Charlotte was unaware of the drama. "Do not have what, Jane?"
Elizabeth sighed. "This is confidential for the next several days, but Mr Darcy and I are courting."
Charlotte looked thoroughly startled by the news for a moment, but only a moment. "That is excellent news! How long has this courtship been going on?"
"Since Sunday."
Charlotte laughed softly. "That explains a great deal."
"I suppose it does."
Charlotte appeared to have a plethora of questions but a quick glance around the room showed they were not impervious to eavesdropping, so further discussion was deferred.
"Do you think it will proceed?"
Jane and Mary watched intently, being aware that the courtship was more complicated than most. They were exceedingly interested in the answer, but had been mostly afraid to ask. They were well aware that Mr Darcy had just barely dug himself out and still had a ways to go.
"It is too early to tell, and I would rather not discuss it here."
The three nodded, all rather unsatisfied with the result but unwilling to continue.
Mary changed the subject. "You mentioned you were rather uncomfortable with the officers as well, Jane."
"I was, and still am for that matter. I cannot explain it. The men are amiable and innocuous. I cannot understand my discomfort."
Charlotte asked, "Could it be the absence of Mr Bingley?"
Jane sighed. "Mr Bingley and I are... nothing to each other."
Charlotte gasped, apparently unaware of the change in status. "Are you at liberty to explain?"
"I am at liberty, but I preferred to simply say it... went off… as these things often do."
Charlotte nodded several times while tapping her teeth with her finger (which lady Lucas considered a terrible habit). "How do you feel about it?
Jane stared for some time in contemplation, as if the question had never occurred to her.
At long last, she said, "Relieved."
Mary seemed startled, while Charlotte chuckled grimly. "While I obviously cannot empathise with the problems that come with great beauty, I suspect I understand."
Jane chuckled grimly. "That makes one of us."
Everyone laughed nervously until Charlotte turned her attention to Elizabeth. "I suppose the pressure is on you now?"
She shrugged. "I suppose so, but I have had a surprisingly robust conversation with my mother. I believe we understand each other. I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to my family."
Charlotte frowned grimly. "That is a difficult position to maintain, Elizabeth."
"What would you do?"
"I am 7 and 20 years old and rather plain. I have never been romantic. I believe I understand your affinity for romanticism but cannot share it. Give me a reasonable man, with an even temper and good situation, and I will not hesitate for a moment."
Elizabeth stared at her friend intently long enough for an ordinary person to become nervous, but not enough to rattle Charlotte (which was a fool's errand). Her gaze then alternated between Jane and Mary for some time, before she finally made her decision.
"How about the heir presumptive to Longhorn? He may be the silliest man I ever met, and he is certainly the most verbose; but he has a good living right now, and will probably inherit Longhorn. He would drive me mad within a week, but he does meet the criteria you specified."
Jane and Mary gasped, realising their mother was about to have a fit of gigantic proportions.
Charlotte did not bat an eye. "I would take him in a heartbeat."
Elizabeth stared her down for a few more minutes. "Be careful what you wish for, Charlotte."
"Not all of us have the power of choice, Lizzie. I wish to have a home of my own, my own children, and to not be a burden on my family."
"So be it! Do not say I did not warn you!"
"I am seven years your senior. I know what I am about."
Jane and Mary were startled by how quickly Elizabeth took up the mantle. They both privately wondered whether their sister had already decided their fate was well in hand without Mr Collins but just did not realize it.
For Elizabeth's part, she firmly believed she had neither advanced nor harmed her courtship with Mr Darcy. There were no conditions under which you would marry Mr Collins, nor did she think Jane or Mary would.
Pointing her cousin to Charlotte harmed no one, and helped her best friend. To her, it was simply a pragmatic solution to two difficult problems. It also offered the benefit that if things did not go according to plan, at least Charlotte would not throw them out of Longbourn without shirts on their backs. It also quite handily solved the problem of Mr Collins knowing absolutely nothing about an estate. She had little doubt that Charlotte would have him well in hand within the year. By the time they inherited, Mr Collins would have learned or Charlotte would have neutralised him. Considering how much he venerated Lady Catherine, Elizabeth thought he could transfer that veneration to his wife without too much fuss.
Yes, quite a neat solution if she did say so herself!
Supper presented a delicious meal as well as food for thought. The Gardiner sisters enjoyed competing with each other, and both took great pride in setting a good table. Mrs Phillips had somewhat lower income but no children so she could put on a good spread when she chose. One thing common to both establishments was that the supper table was as noisy as a tavern, as was common for much of Meryton society.
Although the Bennet sisters were usually in the thick of things, the three elders on this particular evening preferred to take up residence in a quiet end of the table. The other was filled by soldiers with many of the younger ladies vying for their attention.
Elizabeth observed her sisters mixing with vigour, with Lydia in particular flirting close to shamelessly, though not all that much worse than usual. She thought about asking her aunt or uncle to intervene, but she saw little harm in it and anticipated little chance of success. Her youngest sister was exuberance itself, but as long as she stayed in public and did not abuse the rules of propriety too awfully bad, she would survive it. Lydia was surrounded by Kitty and Maria Lucas, both of whom were natural followers who said little that was not an echo of their more exuberant sister. They reminded Elizabeth of Mrs Hurst in a way. The Long nieces were equally split between a noisy one and a quiet one, as were the Goulding's. All in all, that end of the table was raucous, but not overly so.
The comparison between their end of the table, which contained the elder sisters from the Bennet, Lucas, and Goulding families; and the other end was stark. Whether it was a difference of temperament or age, Elizabeth could not say. She wondered if she had ever acted like her younger sisters and could not honestly answer the question.
All that reflection made her wonder about what her life would be like if she accepted Mr Darcy (as seemed increasingly likely). Would they normally dine in an intimate breakfast nook, or at opposite ends of a twenty-foot table that could seat dozens surrounded by half a dozen footmen? Would their daughters be allowed to climb trees, learn to fence, and read anything they wanted? Would their sons be allowed to take tea with their sisters and play with dolls if the mood struck them? Would she be expected to be the belle of the ton, or might they spend the bulk of their time at Pemberley? Would they travel, and if so, how extensively? Elizabeth had no idea and thought she should probably get on with finding out.
Those thoughts led her to wondering about how Mr Darcy saw Meryton society. She had lived there all her life and was quite accustomed to noisy dinners, but would he be? She knew that in London society the standards varied enormously. Some balls, musicals, and theatre events were refined, tasteful and elegant. Others were reputed to be as raucous as a dockside tavern with the navy in port. Which was Mr Darcy accustomed to? Did he find Meryton society savage and uncouth, or more refined than his usual?
As she thought with more and more consternation about all the uncertainties, she was brought up short by Mary's voice. "Breathe, Lizzy… breathe!"
With a shake of her head, she looked to her sisters who had mostly been speaking with their tablemates while Elizabeth plumbed the dark depths.
Elizabeth gave her sister a weak smile.
Jane said, "You have time, Lizzy."
"Time for what?" Eleanor Goulding asked, but Jane just replied with a shake of her head indicating she would learn eventually.
Elizabeth turned her attention back to her group and tried her best to put thoughts of the Derbyshire gentleman from her mind. The rest of the meal proceeded mostly in peace, though soldiers and younger girls became even more raucous and flirty as the evening went by and the wine flowed. Mr Wickham seemed to be the favourite target for the ladies, but the rest of the officers did well enough.
Jane met Elizabeth in the corridor after they had donned their cloaks but were still waiting for the coach.
"Well, Lizzy… you have survived an evening without your beau. How did it go?"
Elizabeth shuddered. "To be honest, I found speaking with the gentlemen… disconcerting. Something felt… off."
"Was it that they are strangers?"
"No. We have been introduced to any number of strangers with the Gardiners in London, and I never felt awkward."
"Is there anything wrong with the officers?"
Elizabeth recognised that Jane was in her dog with a bone state and there was little point in trying to shake her off.
"Nothing wrong that I can say. They are all quite amiable, and in a less pensive mood, I believe I would have enjoyed the conversations."
Jane looked even more thoughtful for some time.
"That word… amiable. This may seem a stretch, but is it possible Mr Bingley has made you suspicious of amiable men?"
"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked in puzzlement.
"Mr Bingley was the most amiable man I ever met, and he turned out to be a boy in men's clothing. Perhaps he has made you suspicious. Mr Darcy is not amiable at first meeting, but he is the most honest man I know. Whatever you may think of his manners, he is certainly all man."
Elizabeth had to think about that for some time, and finally agreed. His honesty (even when it was disagreeable) had been very much in his favour.
"I can agree your point, but I have not honestly given Mr Bingley a thought for some days. Have you?" Elizabeth challenged.
Jane sighed. "I have… but I will not speak about him until we meet again."
"That seems fair."
"Perhaps honesty is the right track," Jane suggested. "Speaking to a single man when you are privately courting may have seemed… dishonest."
Elizabeth thought about it as the rest of her sisters noisily piled into the coach, accompanied by their still awkward cousin.
She continued thinking all the way back to Longbourn, and then some more as they prepared for bed.
Just before she blew out the candle, Elizabeth turned to her sister and finally answered the question Jane had almost forgotten.
"I think I worked it out. Speaking with those amiable men did not feel dishonest… it felt disloyal."