20th February
Dear Father,
We had our first dinner party last night. Lady Appleby invited more than a dozen people, all of them friends or connections of hers. There were five young, single gentlemen present, all in search of a wife.
I suppose I should have expected it, but I did not; I was more popular than Jane because of my money. When I think of how beautiful Jane is, and how wonderful her character, it seems wrong that I was blessed with so much money and she was not. She, of course, is not upset in the least. I am not certain that makes it easier for me.
In any case, it was largely a pleasant party, and the men seeking a rich wife were at least courteous. There were also some young ladies – sisters and cousins of the men – who were pleasant to speak to.
That is enough about me; how is everyone at Longbourn? Lady Appleby told me about the Adler twins. They sound wonderful, and I look forward to hearing more about them. I have no doubt that all of my younger sisters will benefit greatly.
Now I must prepare for a trip to the opera tonight. I have never been to the Opera house and wonder whether I will like tonight's performance. I confess to not being entirely thrilled at listening and watching something written in a language I do not know. There are those who would despise me for such a view, but I think it entirely reasonable.
With much love,
Your Lizzy
/
Green's Gentlemen's Club
London
Four days later
The card room of the club was all done up in tasteful fir and forest greens. The cushions on the chairs were so dark as to be almost black, the tasseled cloths over the mahogany tables verdant as summer fields. Sunlight slanted in through the windows to stripe the carpet in viridian and glowing emerald and glance across unlit sconces holding neatly trimmed wax candles. From behind a screen painted with a tranquil lake surrounded by willows wafted the delicate sound of a lone violin.
The room hummed with low conversation, with men sitting around at some dozen tables exchanging vowels over games of whist and loo, quadrille and parquet. Silent liveried waiters drifted through the room, refilling glasses and bringing new cigars or paper and sealing wax as requested.
Bingley and Darcy sat together at a small table pushed near to a wall, a decanter of port to hand and two half-filled glasses forgotten beside it. The game was piquet, and both men were concentrating.
"To the jack," Fitzwilliam Darcy said, and Charles Bingley smiled and said, "Not good. King."
Darcy sighed and made a note of Bingley's points on the piece of paper in the corner of the table. He was behind, which was rather unusual as he was generally a better player than his friend. Well, he was a better player, but today the cards had favored Bingley. He had no more sequences, and moved onto sets. "Quatorzes."
"Good," Bingley replied, with a disappointed sigh, and Darcy put down the appropriate points in his own column.
The game continued apace, and Darcy, though usually focused, found himself distracted when a group of four gentlemen entered the room and walked toward a table near them. One of them, a gentleman named Mr. Jameson, Darcy knew. Based on the men's chattering, they were planning to play whist.
"Please tell me that she is ugly, at least?" Mr. Jameson said in a jocular tone.
"Not in the least," one of the unknown gentlemen retorted. "She is quite beautiful, with dark glossy hair and fine eyes, along with being charmingly petite."
"She has an elder sister who is even more handsome," the same gentleman continued. "A blonde, blue eyed beauty who is quite one of the loveliest creatures I have ever seen in my life."
This talk, naturally enough, jolted Darcy considerably, and he openly turned his face toward the men, as the lovely form and features of Elizabeth Bennet danced in his mind's eye. Could it be that they spoke of her?
The words regarding the elder woman also caused Bingley to also jerk in surprise and turn toward the group, his lips parted in wonder.
"Is the elder girl also an heiress?" Jameson asked curiously.
"She is not. It is quite a peculiar situation; the girl inherited from a distant connection, a Mrs. Simpson, who chose to divide her fortune between a great-niece, whose husband is in trade, and this Miss Elizabeth Bennet..."
"What!" Bingley blurted out, which, naturally enough, drew the attention of the neighboring table.
"Bingley, Darcy!" Jameson exclaimed. "Do not tell me you know of this Miss Bennet?"
Bingley and Darcy exchanged glances, and Bingley said, rather weakly, "I know of a Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but it can hardly be the same lady. She is not wealthy."
Darcy, whose mind was a maelstrom of confusion, was cognizant enough of the social niceties to stand and bow toward the group of men, with Bingley lurching to his feet a moment later. "Jameson, would you be willing to introduce us to your friends?"
"Of course. Gentlemen, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, and his friend, Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, Lord Talbot, Mr. Sinclair, and Mr. Selkirk."
The gentlemen bowed toward one another, and as soon as they had all straightened, Mr. Bingley said, "I do hope you do not take this amiss, Lord Talbot, but this eldest Miss Bennet – do you know her Christian name?"
"I do not," Talbot said. "However, we spoke at some length at a dinner party some nights ago, at the Bennets' current abode on Half Moon Street, and she told me that she is the eldest of five daughters, and her home is in Hertfordshire. Could this be the same family that you know?"
Bingley gulped and said, "Indeed, it must be, though I confess to being incredibly confused."
"How do you know them?" Mr. Selkirk demanded. The young man was of some five and twenty years, slender, dark, and moderately handsome. Darcy knew him by reputation as being an enthusiastic gambler with a moderate income and thus desirous of wedding an heiress.
"The Bennet ladies hail from Longbourn, an estate in Hertfordshire," Bingley explained in a voice which was slightly shaky. "I am currently leasing Netherfield Park, which lies to the east of the Bennets' estate."
"And you say there is no money aside from this new inheritance?" Sinclair demanded, frowning.
Darcy felt his lips tighten at these questions; he disliked gossip very much, and to be spreading information about the Bennets to all and sundry…
"Their father's estate is entailed to the male line," Bingley said, his blue eyes glazed in confusion, "and the estate will go to a distant cousin."
The gentlemen exchanged glances, and Lord Talbot sighed and said, "It is a pity, really. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is a charming young lady, but rather too quick and intelligent for me. The elder Miss Bennet is gentle and sweet, along with being breathtakingly lovely."
"I wonder why this Mrs. Simpson bequeathed seventy thousand pounds to the one daughter, and nothing to the others?" Jameson asked shrewdly.
Bingley choked, coughed, and sputtered, "Seventy thousand pounds?"
"That is the rumored amount," Jameson said and clapped Bingley on the arm. "Come now, sir; is it possible that you are in love with Miss Elizabeth already?"
"Not her, no," Bingley said and then turned bright red, which provoked chuckles from the other men. Sinclair said, "Miss Bennet, then. Well, you are a rich young man, Bingley, and can afford to marry without wealth. You are most fortunate!"
Bingley seemed unable to speak, and Darcy, though himself both bewildered and distressed, pulled himself together sufficiently to say, "Gentlemen, I do apologize, but my friend and I have an important appointment. Good day."
He bowed, Bingley bowed, the other group of gentlemen bowed, and Darcy pushed his friend out of the door of the card room, guided him down the hall, out the front door, and down the steps, whereupon he hailed a hack.
Once he and Bingley were safely ensconced in the carriage, and the coachman had been directed to carry them off to Darcy House, he forced himself to gaze directly into his friend's dazed face.
"That was … erm … quite a remarkable piece of news," Darcy said finally, as it seemed Bingley was too stunned to speak.
"Remarkable," Bingley repeated in a hollow tone, and then released a maniacal laugh. "Remarkable, yes, Darcy! That did just happen? The eldest two Misses Bennet are in Town? I am not dreaming?"
"You are not," Darcy confirmed, and his stomach performed an odd flip. Elizabeth Bennet was currently residing on Half Moon Street, which was no more than three miles from his house. He could call on her, he could…
"It seems obvious that you and my sisters were correct," Bingley said, turning his head to stare blankly outside the window. "Miss Bennet does not care for me, for our family, in the least, or she would have visited my sisters. I suppose that now that Miss Elizabeth is a wealthy heiress, Miss Bennet has no need to pursue a rich man with ties to trade."
Darcy was briefly, cravenly inclined to stay silent, but his honor would not permit it. He had already lied by omission, and his heart throbbed with the guilt of it.
"Miss Bennet has been in Town for three months, and she called on your younger sister in January," he said, turning his head to gaze rigidly ahead. "Miss Bingley waited some weeks to return the call, and made it clear, by her speech and demeanor, that any relationship with the Bennets was at an end."
Silence fell for a full three minutes, and Darcy grew more and more uncomfortable until at last he forced himself to turn his head toward his friend. Bingley was pale as a sheet, his jaw was clenched, and his nostrils pinched.
"Miss Bennet has been in London these three months, and you did not tell me?" he whispered, so softly that Darcy could hardly hear him over the rattle of the carriage and the clopping of the horses.
"Yes," Darcy said and sighed deeply. "I do apologize, my friend. I thought it unwise for you to encounter the lady so soon after you ended your relationship."
Again, silence, until Bingley hissed furiously, "Ended my relationship? I did not … I did not … you told me she did not care for me! It was you who persuaded me to abandon the woman I love! And now you tell me that Caroline … that Caroline…!"
Darcy felt an absurd inclination to open the carriage door and leap out. Given that the vehicle was traveling at a medium rate of speed, and that the street was stone, and that it was winter, the very idea was extremely stupid, but there was a look on Bingley's face that he had never seen before. He wondered, for a frozen moment, whether his friend might actually hit him.
"I am sorry," he repeated meekly and pressed himself to one side to give Bingley more space.
The man was purple with fury, but even as Darcy watched, Bingley's color subsided, and his mouth drooped.
"It is my fault," the younger man stated, turning to look outside again, his demeanor drooping and disconsolate. "I knew better. I knew she cared for me."
Darcy opened his mouth and then closed it. He still did not think that Miss Bennet was truly attached to his friend, but now that Elizabeth Bennet was a great heiress, it mattered far less. Presumably Miss Bennet would no longer feel pressured to marry his friend for monetary reasons, and if Bingley chose to call on her, he would realize that.
"I am still shocked and horrified at your behavior, "Bingley said suddenly, turning back to glower. "While I have tried to support my spirits these last months, I know I have been more downcast than usual as I pined over Miss Bennet. How could you conceal from me that she is in Town? How could you permit my sister to treat the kindest woman in the world so dreadfully? It is so … malicious of you, and cruel, to both me and Miss Bennet. I had not thought it of you!"
Darcy felt a trickle of anger at these words, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I do not look at it that way, Bingley. I still do not think Miss Bennet is in love with you, as she was far too serene and calm. Perhaps I am wrong, and if so, what I did was poorly done. But I also know that you would not be happy in a marriage of convenience, my friend. I sought to protect you. Regarding Miss Bingley's treatment of Miss Bennet, I do regret that deeply. I had thought that the former friendship between the two women would keep your sister from being unpleasant, but I was wrong on that account."
Bingley glared at him mulishly and said, "You know that Caroline is a social climber, and she obviously decided that Miss Bennet was a hindrance to her hopes of ascending the ranks."
Bingley gritted his teeth, and his gloved hands tightened again, and then he relaxed and said, rather drearily, "All the same, I have been in the habit of allowing you to direct my life, Darcy, and that is my fault. From Cambridge to London to Netherfield Hall, I have leaned on your position in society, your experience as a master of an estate, and on your intellect. I was a weak minded fool to listen to you and my sisters, and it is as much my fault as yours. Now I can only hope that I can repair the damage done by my craven retreat to London last year."
"So you intend to call on the Misses Bennet?" Darcy asked carefully.
"Yes, as soon as possible, which is, I suppose, tomorrow. It is too late now."
"I would like to come with you," Darcy blurted, and then felt himself flush at the bemused look on Bingley's face.
"You wish to come with me? Why?"
"I … do feel guilty about Miss Bingley's treatment of Miss Bennet. I would like to make it up to her in some way."
Bingley frowned, considered, and said, "Miss Bennet will not like it if you come, Darcy."
"Why?"
"Even assuming she does not know of your interference in my affairs, she is very fond of Miss Elizabeth. The situation is ticklish enough with her worrying about you arguing with her beloved sister."
Darcy blinked incredulously. "I have no intention of arguing with Miss Elizabeth."
Bingley snorted aloud and said, "You may not intend to, but I daresay you will. You and the lady could never meet without your conversation devolving into a spirited debate. The last thing I need is for your obvious dislike of Miss Elizabeth to mitigate my apology to Miss Bennet."
"My ... what are you speaking of? I do not dislike Miss Elizabeth! How could you think such a thing?"
The light was fading as the sun set in the west, but even in the comparative darkness, Darcy could make out Bingley's expression of disbelief.
"Everyone knows that you and Miss Elizabeth detest one another! Your first action on seeing her across the room was to comment that she was 'not handsome enough to tempt you to dance', after all."
Darcy felt himself flush and he said, "I did say that, but it was mere foolishness and borne out of my general distaste for dancing with ladies with whom I am not acquainted, and it is not as if she heard my words."
"Of course she did, Darcy," his friend riposted in exasperation. "Everyone heard it, as you did not exactly lower your voice! Caroline heard rumors of your boorish comment within days of the assembly, and mighty glad she was of it, since it coincided with her own arrogant belief that she was better than any of the local gentry. Given how Miss Elizabeth contradicted and teased you on every occasion you met since that night, it seems odd that you did not realize that she does not regard you with favor."
Darcy had already experienced numerous shocks this evening, but this one was so astonishing that his vision wobbled. "You truly believe that Miss Elizabeth dislikes me?"
Bingley leaned over to stare intently into his friend's face and said roughly, "Yes? And why does it matter, since you have disdained her since the day you met?"
Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley, felt sick. He could not marry Miss Elizabeth, of course, but to think that she despised him? It was horrifying.