Chapter 14
The House on Half Moon Street
That Evening
Candlelight filled the small dining parlor at Half Moon Street. Jane, Elizabeth, and Lady Appleby sat in a cozy little group around the table set with a one-course dinner. A very nice ragout sat in the midst of various roasted vegetables, an apple pie, and a plate of ratafia cakes.
A pair of tall large-shouldered footmen passed silently in and out of the door, bearing dishes back to the kitchen. Most of the male servants in the house were brawny and strong, at Mr. Bennet's insistence. He wanted to be certain that his daughters would be well guarded while accepting gentleman callers at home and had also firmly ordered that they were to be well escorted any time they went out of the house.
Lady Appleby helped herself to the last of the potatoes, and one of the servants stepped forward, lifting the empty bowl and bearing it away. His colleague closed the door and returned to his post beside it.
"You were very hard on Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth," Jane said worriedly.
Elizabeth spooned more mashed beets onto her plate and said, "He deserved it, Jane. It was very rude of him to leave Netherfield without a word of farewell. He was so attentive to you for weeks and to depart so suddenly was not the action of a gentleman."
"There is some truth to that," Lady Appleby remarked, "but I was not present at any of your interactions with Miss Bingley. Jane, do you think there is any genuine reason for Mr. Bingley to be uncertain of your attachment to him, or was he merely being particularly stupid?"
Jane and Elizabeth exchanged glances, and the former said, "I thought that I was being quite open in my feelings, but I am aware that I do not express emotion with ease."
Elizabeth opened her mouth in protest and then closed it. She remembered that her friend Charlotte Lucas, now Charlotte Collins, had expressed concern that Jane was too reserved to 'catch' Mr. Bingley.
"Perhaps it is my fault," Jane continued in distress.
"It is not your fault, dear one," Elizabeth said warmly, reaching out a hand to pat her sister's arm. "Our mother and younger sisters are so noisy and boisterous that it would be dreadful indeed if you were equally uproarious."
Jane wrinkled her nose and asked hesitantly, "Do you think I ought to see Mr. Bingley again?"
Elizabeth frowned and said, "It is your decision, of course, but I confess that while he seemed appropriately regretful, I am concerned he will not be able to hold his own against Mr. Darcy and his sisters. You are a lovely woman, Jane. There are many fine gentlemen here in London who would be honored to take you as a wife."
Lady Appleby cleared her throat, drawing the attention of both girls, and turned a stern eye on the younger Miss Bennet.
"Elizabeth, if I may say so, your recommendation to Jane is quite similar to Mr. Darcy's advice to Mr. Bingley. You both seek to guard the hearts of those you care for. But this is Jane's life you are talking about, and she is sensible enough to make her own decisions, do you not think?"
Elizabeth flushed red at these words and turned an apologetic look on her sister. "I am sorry, Jane. Lady Appleby is entirely correct. If you wish to pursue a relationship with Mr. Bingley, you should."
Jane smiled. "I did ask you your opinion, Lizzy. But you are correct, Madame; I need to make this decision on my own, and I will pray and ponder the situation this evening."
/
Longbourn
That Night
"This way, Misses," Mrs. Hill said, and the Adler twins climbed the stairs to the west wing, whereupon they walked along a corridor which ran parallel to the frontage of the house.
Hill proceeded to the second door on the left, opened it, and entered inside, with Sophia and Phoebe trailing behind her.
They glanced around the chamber as they entered. A light and fresh blue papered the walls, with a simple rug of blue and green on the floor. The furniture was plain and no longer fashionable, but it was sturdily built and clean and cared for. The four-poster bed, heaped high with myriad quilts, was quite adequately large for two women, and a polished candlestick with three wax candles sat before the dresser mirror. White curtains were drawn across the windows.
"I had Molly air the sheets, and there seems to be enough firewood," Mrs. Hill said, looking around with a critical eye. "I will send Tom up with your trunks in the next hour. If you need anything else, please speak to me."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hill," Phoebe said with a smile, and the woman departed.
Sophia looked around herself appraisingly and said, "This is very pleasant. Surprisingly pleasant, truthfully, for governesses. It looks like one of the guest bedchambers."
"Yes," her twin agreed, "and Mrs. Hill seems a kindly sort. That will make our time here much more palatable."
"I suspect that the upper servants, who are well aware of Miss Lydia's shortcomings, are delighted to have two governesses present who can restrain her."
Phoebe rolled her eyes and walked over to a side door, which she opened. It led into a small sitting and dressing room, also decorated in blues and greens, and another door led to a small water closet.
"May I?" her sister asked, gesturing toward the water closet, and Phoebe smiled, nodded, and retreated back into the bedchamber.
A few minutes later, her sister returned, and the twosome sat down on a small couch which was pulled near the fireplace. Both were tired and very glad to be resting after a physically and emotionally taxing day.
"I like Miss Mary," Sophia remarked. "She seems a diligent soul with a genuine love for music. I fear that she has been neglected because she is not particularly handsome, and Mrs. Bennet thinks mostly of beauty as currency."
"Miss Kitty is, I think, not so very bad either," Phoebe remarked. "I know we have spent very little time with her, but she seems more of a follower than an instigator."
"Unlike Miss Lydia," Sophia said, and both women sighed deeply.
"That girl," Phoebe said, standing up to poke the fire viciously, "is a scandal waiting to happen!"
Silence fell as the twosome considered the last hours. Mrs. Bennet had been outraged to have two governesses foisted upon her household, though Phoebe had managed to calm her down by suggesting that, with Miss Elizabeth now so very wealthy, each of her other daughters had a good chance of attracting the attention of wealthy men if they gained some fashionable accomplishments. That turned out to be perfect phrasing, and afterwards the only person to truly fuss was Lydia Bennet, who went on at some length about how she had no intention of being accomplished since she intended to marry an officer in a red coat.
"She is dreadfully forward," Sophia said at last. "I hope that Mr. Bennet is serious about supporting us in our efforts to curb Miss Lydia's behavior."
"We will see," Phoebe said and then turned a joyful face on her cherished sister. "At least we are together."
/
Darcy House
London
Darcy lay in bed, absently tracing with his gaze the familiar shapes of the wooden moldings on the ceiling. Across the room on the mantel, the clock struck an hour past midnight, and yet sleep was no nearer than it had been when he had lain down some two hours previously.
There was no physical reason for his sleeplessness. The temperature in his room was exactly at his tastes, the low-burned fire emitted a dim unobtrusive glow, his sheets were freshly laundered and aired and crisp. The ticking of his clock was a soothing quiet rhythm he had always enjoyed.
But his mind would not rest. Self-recriminatory thoughts chased each other around and around his head. He was still stunned at the new-found and dismaying knowledge that Elizabeth Bennet despised him.
He had been so terribly mistaken. He had thought – had truly believed – that she enjoyed their witty repartee, had smiled at their banter from pleasure. But no. It seemed instead that her arch smiles and swift replies had been merely a polite way to show her displeasure and disdain. A courteous and, yes, charming, mask for her loathing.
It was a crushing realization. He had been enchanted with the lady's saucy retorts and clever responses that showed a true intelligence behind those fine eyes. He had even, Darcy thought, been on the verge of falling in love.
He listened to the ticking clock and then blew out a long, slow breath. He had fallen in love with her.
He had, he confessed to himself, been considering an offer toward Miss Elizabeth. Not consciously – no, consciously he had thought himself vastly her superior, not just in fortune, but in connections, and he could not marry her.
But he was in love, desperately in love, and somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind, he had been waiting to see if he would fall out of love with Elizabeth as quickly as he had fallen in love with her. Subconsciously, he had been aware that he adored her, that she was the only woman for him. Moreover, he had thought that he could have her with a mere flick of a finger. Though repressed, he had been more or less planning to make her Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, and had envisioned her being delighted and honored by his willingness to lift her into the rarified social heights of the haut ton. There had been not even a hint of a thought in his mind that she might despise him or refuse him!
Her open scorn during his visit to the house on Half Moon Street had laid bare his own heart. He was a complete idiot – all this time, he had been telling himself that she was not worthy of his hand, when in fact it was he who was not worthy to be her husband. Beautiful, passionate, clever Elizabeth was not the beggar maid to his King Cophetua. He did not deserve her. He had never deserved her, with his pride and his arrogance and incivility.
And now that he had accepted the truth, that he adored her, it was biting to realize that he had virtually no chance of winning her hand in marriage. If she had held him in such contempt when she was but a poor country miss, how much more so now that her wealth nearly equaled his own and her connections and acquaintances were rapidly expanding into vaunted circles? He had nothing to offer her now that she could not easily acquire for herself, and she – she was beautiful and charming and clever and very wealthy indeed.
She could practically have her pick of husbands now, and there would be no shortage of men flocking to be her suitor. All of them would be tripping over themselves to be charming and agreeable and woo her. Why would she consider for even one moment rude Mr. Darcy, who had insulted her so egregiously when first they encountered one another and then convinced his friend to abandon her beloved sister?
He turned over in search of a cool place on his pillow, forcing himself to think of Anne de Bourgh, awaiting him in Kent. He knew that his mother and aunt had both intended for him to wed his cousin when they were of age. But as he thought of Anne's frail drooping figure beside Miss Elizabeth's vibrancy and vitality, he could not restrain an audible groan.
How could he have been such a complete and utter fool?
/
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Author Note: Exciting news! The audiobook version of my story 'Peacocks of Pemberley' featuring the well known British voice actor, Harry Frost, is now available on Amazon, Audible and iTunes. Check it out. :-)