Author's Notes: WOW. Like any author sharing their work on a public forum, we want to know that people are reading (and hopefully enjoying!) our work. However the response to Chapter 16 has truly overwhelmed me. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I've loved writing since childhood and it really is so rewarding to know that people actually want to read, are eager to read, what I have to write. Thank you all so much for joining me on this journey.
I hope that you all are safe and well, wherever you may be reading from. I have been active on ff . net (and in P&P) since I was 12 years old. (I used to go by a different pen name) and though we don't get to really chat with one another, per se, this website has been a community for me for more than half of my life. I am so grateful to have access to the internet and the community here in a time when we need connection to others more than ever.
I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It is my longest to date and was incredibly difficult to write because of the many shifting perspectives. Constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated.
Next chapter is not started yet, but I plan to begin working on it tomorrow, with the goal of having it to you by mid May. We're rapidly approaching Finals time, so I will need to focus on studying in the next few weeks, but since I have nothing but time on my hands I am hoping to balance both.
Be well - and I hope you enjoy!
The principal drawing room of Netherfield was a large and comfortable room with fashionable furnishings. It was, Mr. Gantry had readily observed, the finest room of the great house. The golden glow of the autumn afternoon, the roaring fire, and the flickering candles added to the pleasant ambiance. However, it was the occupants of the space which captured the notice of the gentleman as they rejoined the group.
Miss Bingley sat on the settee with her sister, Mrs. Hurst, and facing them in an opposing chair was Miss Mary Bennet. With Mr. Collins' arrival had come the news that Miss Bennet was to leave Netherfield on this day. Whatever Miss Bingley's own feelings toward her unexpected guests, she was a consummate hostess. The fashionable airs she had learnt during her expensive education were on full display as she served her guest tea, and she was speaking to Miss Bennet with great animation and attention when the gentlemen joined them. Though Miss Bennet answered her hostess with perfect politeness, the well-trained eye could not help but observe that she received Miss Bingley's attentions with little pleasure.
Mr. Gantry was the first to address the ladies. He hardly allowed himself a moment to drop a bow to his hostess, as he bounded into the inviting space with great energy. "Miss Bingley, please allow me to apologize for our tardiness. I hope I have not inconvenienced you with the delay." The other gentlemen filed into the room behind him, Collins with an awkward, lumbering gate, and Darcy with a scowl across his lips.
Collins took the seat nearest Miss Bingley, while Gantry took the seat beside Miss Bennet. Darcy remained standing, and in his common attitude moved toward the window – his mind far too occupied in contemplating the exchange that had just occurred in the study to engage with the present chatter of the drawing room.
The Mistress of Netherfield smiled charmingly, and with a well-practiced laugh in her voice she said. "Oh, we quite despaired of you joining us, did we not Louisa? However now that you all have come, I will ring for additional settings. But where is my brother?"
"Quite." Was the married sister's contribution, bracelets tinkling on her wrists.
As if summoned by her inquiry, Mr. Bingley joined them, apologies on his swollen lips as well. "I hope you have not been waiting long, Caroline. Mr. Gantry and I were forced to change direction several times during the course of the day, the roads are in very poor condition indeed."
"And will Mrs. Collins be joining us?"
This question, though seemingly innocuous, caused several reactions to occur around the room. Miss Bennet, sitting primly with her well worn Bible in her lap, was startled enough by the inquiry to turn her cool blue gaze toward the gentleman it was being asked of to see how he responded. For his own part Charles Bingley, a young man who could only be described as the embodiment of affability itself, met the gaze of the speaker with as cold a look as he could muster. Mr. Gantry watched with interest as the players began to set the stage for the next scenes. The Bingley sisters merely smiled as they had been taught to, pretty and polite.
Bingley had plenty he wished to say to the Master of Longborn, who had been the one to make this inquiry. However, he kept his temper in check, realizing that unpleasant scenes might arise for innocent parties should he stir the gentleman's ire. "I believe that was her intention, sir." He responded, in a mimicry of his usual good humor. "She repaired from the Conservatory to her room in order to freshen her toilette." Silently, he added, "As you ordered her to do."
Collins looked as if he would speak, but Bingley took the delay of his quivering lips to turn from that odious gentleman to a more agreeable conversation partner. Wearing a smile of real warmth, Bingley addressed Mary. "I understand that you are to leave us today, Miss Bennet. I was very sorry to hear it."
"Yes," she answered, with a solemnity that was usual even for her. "I find that I am needed at Longborn. My sister will remain and continue to care for my cousin."
"You shall be greatly missed, Miss Bennet." Charles replied with cordiality. "You and your sister have been such diligent nurses to the Reverend. We will do our utmost to support her in your absence."
Collins could not withhold an incredulous snort at the idea that anyone could miss Mary's serious, moralizing, company. With eyes turned back toward himself, he took the opportunity to speak again. Recalling his own object in sitting with them as he did, he made his address to his hostess. "I am sure that your own efforts can not be discounted, Miss Bingley. My son owes his life to you."
Though such praise was hardly deserved, Miss Bingley blushed becomingly. In truth, she had visited the sick room but rarely, and only when the gentlemen had been absent or occupied, as there was little else to do during the day to keep oneself entertained. She had been exceedingly vexed to have her house invaded by the sick and his attendants but was too well-bred to let her true feelings be on display to her uninvited guests. Caroline had hardly wanted to attend her brother in the country at all but knowing that the eminently eligible Mr. Darcy would stay as their guest had induced her to leave the comforts of Town for the wilds of Hertfordshire. She had an anticipated a few quiet weeks before returning to London for the season, and relished the idea of a small, intimate party, where she could exhibit her skills as estate mistress for Darcy's benefit. All her best laid plans had gone to waste as soon as that bumbling fool of a parson had allowed himself to be caught in the rain, and gallant Mr. Darcy had insisted on the man's rescue. Mr. Collins' words of praise, though greatly exaggerated, was the first bit of attention Caroline had received in what felt like weeks, and she basked in it.
"I thank you, sir." She answered with rehearsed demureness, "You are very kind. Truly, I have done very little. All the thanks must be Mr. Darcy's for his quick thinking and decisive actions in summoning Dr. Barringer to Hertfordshire." Her eyes drifted toward Darcy's haunt at the window frame, willing him to hear her compliments.
Collins had shown his reluctance to thank Mr. Darcy during his interview in the study. However, Miss Bingley had not been privy to the private exchange between the men. Mr. Collins was determined that Miss Bingley (and her fortune) should have no inkling of the true nature of his thoughts toward the Derbyshire gentleman. Thought it pained him to do so, he curled his thin, trembling, lips upward in the mockery of a smile. "We are indebted to Mr. Darcy," he replied with every effort at civility, "and we cannot begin to thank him for the great kindness he has shown William. But madam – I must insist that you take some of the credit for yourself. You have shown the Collins family every kindness, and William every possible attention. I can not speak too highly of you. Such praise is surely your due."
The Mistress of Netherfield could not help but preen at this continued attention. Handsome, rich, and intelligent, Caroline Bingley had been raised to think highly of herself and meanly of the rest of the world. Deprived of her usual entertainments, locked away as she was in the countryside, she had already grown quite bored before becoming hostess to an invalid. The tedium of the past several days had worn on her spirits to such a degree that a kind word from Mr. Collins became a much-needed boon. Collins could have searched the whole of England without finding another young lady more perfectly positioned to be susceptible to his flattery. She was quite ready to believe herself an angel of mercy.
Even if Miss Bingley's character had been quite different than presented, ignoring the admiration of Mr. Collins would have been a difficult thing for her to do. Until this day, she had engaged with the gentleman but rarely. She had heard some of his more colorful remarks on familial pride with amusement, having never seen so much self-importance in such a middling sort of squire, and thought of him very little otherwise. Now all of Mr. Collins' commanding presence was directed toward her person, and his coal-black eyes held her own in a mesmerizing gaze. Though he said nothing that was not perfectly respectable, there was a certain feeling of intimacy he conveyed through the power of his looks that was darkly intoxicating. The most steady, unflappable sort could not walk away from such an exchange undisturbed, and Miss Bingley, vain by nature and listless from circumstance, was positively enthralled.
"You flatter me, Mr. Collins." She answered, her pretty blush turning quite crimson in the face of such particular attentions. "You are very kind to do so. I am simply happy to be of service to your son."
"And we shall not forget your service, Miss Bingley. I am sure your name will be carried throughout Meryton with the utmost reverence for the care you have shown the heir of Longborn."
The tete-a-tete was interrupted by the arrival of more settings for the afternoon tea service, and Miss Bingley was obligated to pour for her guests. Her brother, who had been witnessing the exchange with some small alarm, was glad of it. It had been three years since the Bingley patriarch had passed away in a tragic accident, leaving Charles as the head of their small family. It had been an awkward transition for an untried young man of two-and-twenty, and Charles had made plenty of mistakes since then, but he had never faltered in the protection of his sisters. He had chased plenty of fortune hunters away from Caroline since they had reemerged in society after their year of mourning, but no display had ever unsettled him as much as the one taking place in his own drawing room that very afternoon.
Jane – darling Jane - had warned him of her husband's plot for the Bingley fortune not a half hour prior. It was Collins' wish to trap one, or both, of the Bingley siblings in matrimony, tying their wealth to the fate of Longborn. He had asked – commanded – Bingley mentally corrected himself, his wife to arrange a compromise of her sister while they attended the Reverend's sick bed. A marriage brought about by compromise rarely lead to the happiness of any party involved, and the knowledge that Mr. Collins would demand his wife to engineer an assignation was truly repulsive. Even more frightening was Bingley's admission to himself that if Mrs. Collins had been a different sort of woman and had complied with this scheme, he and Miss Bennet would certainly have ended up engaged. He had far too much honor to let an innocent young woman fall in society on his account, and by acting correctly would have committed himself and Miss Bennet to misery of the acutest kind.
Thankfully, Mrs. Collins was a good woman and had refused to bow to her husband's edicts on this subject, consequences be damned. In retaliation to Mrs. Collins' defiance, Mr. Collins had arrived at Netherfield with the purpose separating the sisters by returning Mary to Longborn. It was a remarkedly stupid plan, for removing Miss Bennet from their party would produce the opposite effect of Mr. Collins' desired goal. Yet separating the sisters during such a dark, anxious, time would bring pain to both, and Collins could take some satisfaction from that, at the very least.
Now, before Bingley's very eyes, that loathsome man worked upon his sister, filling her head with self-important nonsense. Charles loved her dearly, but while he chose to ignore many of her flaws, he was not unaware of them. He knew his sister well enough to know that she had little interest in, or patience with, people who did not belong to the circles of society to which she aspired. Yet with only a few words, Collins had transformed Caroline's polite disinterest in the conversation into an engrossing concentration. What more power could he hold over her if given the time and incentive? It was disheartening and unnerving to witness.
Charles was not alone in noticing the elder gentleman's marked attentions to Miss Bingley. Miss Bennet, having spent the last eight years primarily residing in the Collins' home, could read her guardian in a way that was only surpassed by his wife. She had seen this behavior before.
Mary had first witnessed it as a young girl; the power of his personality had been directed toward her aunts. She had not understood then why Aunt Gardiner and Aunt Phillips were so quick to ignore or dismiss his many missteps as master of the estate that he had inherited. Merely a child, Collins had not felt that the same tactics of persuasion were needed to be deployed to curry Mary's favor, or that of her sisters', insignificant as they were. She had seen a very different side of her guardian that the adults who surrounded the Bennet orphans had been shielded from. With the passage of the years, Mary had grown to understand what had occurred during that time, as she witnessed Collins using his powerful presence to overwhelm and intimidate countless members of the Meryton community. He was a practiced deceiver, and her aunts and uncles had little reason to mistrust him when he arrived at Longborn to claim what was legally his. No, her family could hardly be blamed for not recognizing the villain before them. Mary had released her childhood resentment toward her family several years ago.
Her intelligent blue gaze was fixed on Miss Bingley, and Gantry's followed. It was decidedly bad luck that Miss Bennet was being recalled to her home! Having not yet been in residence at Netherfield a full two days, and she so frequently at her cousin's bedside, he had scarcely had an opportunity of conversing with the young lady. After his fascination with the intriguing Mr. Collins, there was no one who held greater interest to him in Hertfordshire. She had, of course, been present at Longborn since the parson's arrival from Kent, as well as having been a part of the Longborn party who had called at Netherfield on the day of Reverend Collins' attack. He would certainly need to hear her version of the heir's visit to Longborn before much more time passed. Yet she surpassed even Collins' lovely wife in Gantry's estimation of involvement in the affairs – for Miss Bennet had been the person who had so reminded Mr. Darcy of the actress, Adelaide Bernard, that the gentleman had requested the professional assistance of the Bow Street Magistrate's office to investigate the matter.
The heavy rainstorms which had besieged the south of England had been to Mr. Gantry's benefit. Mr. Darcy had requested that a Bow Street Runner travel to Hertfordshire with all due haste in the company of his family physician, Dr. Barringer. The request had been read, reviewed, and an enthusiastic Gantry selected to travel to the countryside on the following morning. He had arrived at Dr. Barringer's address eager to be off. The good doctor was waiting at his residence for the Bow Street Runner to arrive, but the black clouds that had rapidly gathered above them had not been a good omen for travel. The coachman and the doctor had been discussing possible routes for their journey when the heavens opened upon them, and all the men quickly realized that their departure must be delayed by such a storm. Gantry had been ecstatic. There was much he could in London to better prepare himself for his investigation in Hertfordshire, and he would take any stolen moment he could to equip himself with knowledge. He had set out on foot, umbrella in hand, the doctor abusing such a foolhardy notion all the while he was gone.
Though he was out only a few short hours, and returned quite soaked through, it had been a worthwhile endeavor. Knowing from the papers that the Duke of _ had not yet returned to Town, Gantry had been able to press a few coins to the right hands in order to gain admittance to that great man's house in order to view his famed art collection. In particular, he had sought out Weeping Venus, one of Signore Forelli's famous pieces depicting his muse, the actress Adelaide Bernard, which was prominently displayed in the Duke's London gallery.
It had been a necessary study. No fan of theatre, Mr. Gantry had never seen the actress with his own eyes and would have no way of judging for himself if there was any resemblance between the young women. Upon his arrival at Netherfield with the doctor, he had the opportunity to hear Mr. Darcy's theory, as well as his confession of love. Like any good investigator, Gantry had kept his cards close at hand, revealing nothing of his newly acquired knowledge to the man who had hired him. He needed to understand how and why the Derbyshire man had reached his own conclusions regarding Adelaide Bernard before Gantry would pull the great man further into this sordid affair. Was Darcy as observant and keen of mind as Gantry had been led to believe, or was he merely another lovesick fool, seeing the face of his beloved in another's merely because he wished it?
Looking at Miss Bennet's pretty profile on his left, Gantry studied the strong features of her attractive, if serious, face. Like Miss Bernard's portrait, Miss Bennet had a long, thin, Grecian nose, and plump lips which sat on her porcelain skin with a pleasant pout. Her chestnut curls were similar in color to Miss Bernard, but one could hardly claim a family bond on the basis of having brown hair. Miss Bennet was a small and slender young woman, almost doll-like; while Miss Bernard had a lush, womanly figure, though she had been younger than Miss Bennet was now at the time the piece had been painted. No, Gantry had not seen enough to be convinced at this point in the investigation that Miss Bernard and Miss Bennet must be connected but he had heard rather a great deal of very telling information and he was not yet inclined to dismiss the notion.
With Miss Bennet so soon to depart, the Runner knew he should press what advantage he had at that moment, and with his characteristic eagerness, addressed her, saying, "I too, am very sorry that you must leave us Miss Bennet. Coming from a large family, I know all too well what comfort a sister can bring in times of illness."
Mary turned her cool blue eyes from Miss Bingley's conversation with her guardian to answer him. "There is only one comfort greater than family during such trials, and that is the word of our Lord, God. I am happy to have been able to be of service to my cousin in his hour of need."
"You are only too correct, Miss Bennet." Came the gallant reply, "Knowing my seven siblings hold me in their prayers when I am ill provides a soothing balm to my soul that none of their other tender ministrations can reach. I am sure Reverend Collins feels the power of all five of your prayers and his strength is bolstered from it."
An amateur sleuth would have been hard pressed to notice the flicker of anxiety which flashed across the young lady's face with his words, but Mr. Gantry was no green boy on his first case. He saw solemn Miss Bennet's surprise she so rapidly tried to conceal, as well as Collins' black eyes narrow, though he was attending his own conversation with his hostess. Darcy, who had spent the past several minutes surveying the grounds, turned to face the group from his chosen post at the sill. This was encouragement indeed – surely Mr. Darcy must have noticed Collins' slip in the study as well!
It was Bingley, politely nibbling on a scone which he truly had no appetite for after a day of neighborhood calls, who answered him. "Such large families! How I should delight in having so many siblings!" He said with enthusiasm. "The Bingley family is a much closer knit – Caroline and Louisa are all that I have left in the world."
"Do you mean to imply that we do not satisfy you, dear brother?" Miss Bingley asked with a playful smirk to the gentleman to her right.
Affable Bingley immediately looked contrite, "Heavens no Caroline! You know how dear you and Louisa are to me. I was only thinking how pleasant it must have been to be raised with so many ready playmates. Why your games would have more than doubled in numbers!"
It was then that Mrs. Collins rejoined them. She was dressed in a plain, modest gown, and her golden hair was arranged simply beneath a well-worn lace cap. If she had any intention of hiding her loveliness by dressing with such little thought to fashion, it was an ineffective disguise. Free from frippery and useless adornment, Mrs. Collins' striking beauty was more apparent to the assembled group than it had ever been. The gentlemen rose to greet her, with the exception of her husband, who merely acknowledged his wife with a nod.
Bingley bristled at this insult to the kind and lovely Mrs. Collins, and the others were similarly uncomfortable at such an uncouth display. However, Mrs. Collins was serenity itself, and if her feelings were injured from her husband's lack of curtesy, no one was privy to that knowledge, not even Mr. Gantry with all his skills. Outside of a general greeting to the room at large, she did not speak. She merely joined her hostess on the sofa and allowed that young lady to perform the typical functions, a vision of tranquil beauty.
Darcy moved across the length of the room toward the tea settings. He allowed Miss Bingley to pour for him, thanking her with gravity. His expression was what Charles teasingly called his "Master of Pemberley" face – a haughty mien which served as an impenetrable fortress against the world at large. That he would deign to speak to them was not evident from such a look, but he surprised them all by also addressing Miss Bennet.
"I have but one sister, more than ten years my junior. Though, I assure you, Miss Darcy is very well loved, I am more a father to her than brother. I often thought growing up that it would be very pleasant to be part of a large family." He paused for a brief moment, knowing what he would say next to be a lie and disliking that fact. Yet such lies must be permissible when seeking to uncover greater truths. "I had no idea that your family had been so blessed, Miss Bennet."
Mary's icy, thoughtful, gaze now moved to the Derbyshire gentleman, assessing him. Darcy tried to catch her eye with all his power, willing the intelligent young woman to not give away the game. They did not know one another well, but there was a certain camaraderie which had developed between them during their various exchanges. The first of these meetings had been at the Meryton Assembly. They had not danced together, but they had sat in conversation together for some time, during which Darcy – so stricken as he was by Miss Bennet's resemblance to Miss Bernard in both looks and mannerisms, had questioned Miss Bennet on her family at some length, and had learned that she was but one of many Bennet orphans. A word from Miss Bennet conveying that history between them, and the thread which held together this more subtle line of questioning would snap in two.
Darcy hoped that he had not misjudged her character or intelligence, and he was rewarded when she answered, in her typical sharp manner. "Yes, it was a very lively nursery. It has been some years since the Bennet sisters shared it together, however."
"A lively nursery indeed!" Interjected Gantry with a laugh. "Tell me, Miss Bennet, are any of your sisters Out beside yourself?"
"No sir, I am the only Miss Bennet presently mixing in company. My sister Catherine will make her debut at the time I marry or take a position."
"I imagine that must engender some bitterness between sisters close in age. All my sisters made their introduction to society at the time of their 17th birthday. Even knowing that information did not prevent the many squabbles which occurred in the Gantry house over the perceived lack of fairness. I am sure that your governess must have her hands full!"
"We employ no governess, sir."
Gantry hesitated, unsure if he had offended her.
But no – that was not the look of a wounded young girl, nor the tremor of a young woman's anger. Miss Bennet always spoke with perfect politeness, but rarely with any feeling. Her manner of speech was flat in tone, and she used as few words as possible to say as much as it could. She was not an angry woman, but rather an impatient one. She had little interesting in observing the niceties. He could see it in her eyes, in the piercing, intelligent gaze she cast about the room. The soulful way those eyes seemed to cut to the heart of a man and lay his sins out to bare.
They were rather pretty eyes, blue-grey in color and so pale that they reminded Gantry of a Spring morning touched with a layer of frost…though that loveliness was often partially concealed by a pair of wire spectacles which Miss Bennet wore whenever she read or played on the pianoforte. For his own part, he thought the glasses rather added to her unusual charm and thought that many other discerning men would be in agreement. But Gantry speculated that few men bothered to look at her long enough to see them, for they were too unnerved by her brusque, serious manner and soulful, disconcerting looks. Furthermore, it was understood in the neighborhood that poor Miss Bennet had very few prospects, and therefore she was rather unpopular with gentlemen.
In the knowledge he had sought of the Collins family during the calls he had made with Bingley just that morning, he had learned much of this singular young woman, Miss Mary Bennet. He had gathered from the gossip of that day that while Miss Bennet was more accomplished than most young ladies in the area, she was as also poor as a church mouse, and had yet to receive any suitors. Interestingly, she had been educated well – exceptionally well, far above what her current situation could possibly afford or called for. She had also enhanced her own education with extensive reading, the mark of a woman who did not learn solely for the approbation of others.
Gantry was suddenly struck with an understanding which delighted him. This was not another girl of nineteen, eager to display to the world so that she might gain a husband, here was a special type of woman far dearer to Gantry's heart – a veritable bluestocking. A woman with a sharp mind as eager as any man's, perhaps even more so for lack of opportunity to utilize her mental capabilities. Huzzah! What fun! At the outset of this case, Gantry had been intrigued enough, to be sure. But to meet and mingle with so many quick minds! It was an unexpected pleasure, only enhanced by the fact that one such mind should reside behind the face of an attractive young woman. Gantry's thrill increased with every knew turn. What a hunt!
With a grin splashed across his lips, Gantry mindlessly pulled his pocket watch from his waist coat and made the chain dance between his fingers. This delightful realization had been made in an only a moment's pause in conversation. He continued his address to her, saying, "Pardon me – I mean no offense. I speak of sisterly disagreements with the utmost fondness, I assure you."
"I have taken no offense, sir. All my unmarried sisters attend school in _ County. Mrs. Collins took charge of my own education shortly after her marriage. I also have had the benefit of a music master when I stayed with my Uncle in London."
"That is generous indeed – and Miss Bennet, I say this most earnestly, that no one in conversation would ever perceive of the slightest lapse in your education. In fact, it is quite the opposite. I must commend Mrs. Collins on her tutelage, and yourself in its application. I understand that our acquaintance is a very trifling one, but I think you will find I have an unusually keen sense of observation. If there is one person I can pick out in a room above all others, it is a fellow scholar, and I see such in you."
There! He had achieved what other men might have deemed impossible. The corners of Mary Bennet's plump mouth twitched upward into a wry little smile, and frosted eyes sparkled at him with a certain recognition in the fading afternoon light.
Still, she was made of much sterner stuff than to lose her head from a compliment, no matter how sincere the address. "That is a very poetic notion, Mr. Gantry." She replied in the same dry tone, pulling her teacup toward her lips. "I thank you for the compliment to Mrs. Collins and myself."
Gantry laughed aloud, thoroughly charmed. Darcy, who had crossed the room to stand silently beside him, continued his attentions to Miss Bennet, saying, "I think it is a very good thing for young women to have the companionship of someone their own age. I have often wished for such a friend for Miss Darcy. I imagine the bonds of sisterly affection must be quite strong."
Mary twisted somewhat in her seat, so as to better face the Derbyshire man. "You are not mistaken sir," she answered, her tone softening. "Though I am able to visit with Catherine and Lydia but rarely, as they are so often at school or in London with my Uncle, there is a tenderness between us that surpasses many other bonds." She paused, her cold gaze moving to look at Jane, sitting across from her, politely attending to the conversation between her hostess and her husband. "There is nothing that I would not do for my sisters." She added, her flat speech infused with an unusual warmth.
Darcy looked as if he would speak, but the small, quick-witted Londoner beat him to the punch. "And Miss Elizabeth?" He asked evenly, "Does she attend school as well?
His calm address had all the impact of a gunshot. Heads turned, teacups rattled, and those who had been engaging in their own conversations found that either they, or their conversation partner, were no longer interested in the subject at hand.
Miss Bennet, to whom this question was addressed, was known in the community for many things – Gantry had heard a great deal about her since arriving in Hertfordshire. Above any other characteristic the young lady possessed, she was universally spoken of as having a stoic, unflappable nature. If Gantry had truly pulled a pistol on Miss Bennet, she may have met this threat with a psalm on her lips and a disappointed furrow in her brow. However, hearing Elizabeth's name spoken aloud after so many years of silence was a shock too great, even for her.
Her pale eyes rounded in surprise, and she stumbled over her words as she answered him. "E-Elizabeth?" She sputtered, not daring to look to her guardian, "Why…no…that is to say…"
"No," interjected a calm, feminine voice, "Miss Elizabeth has not had the benefit of a formal education."
Gantry looked toward the speaker, a pleasant smile on his lips. Mrs. Collins sat between the Bingley sisters, her expression quite serene, save for her cornflower eyes which darted from one occupant of the drawing rom to another.
"I imagine then that you took charge of Miss Elizabeth's education, much as you have Miss Bennet's."
Though Gantry gave every impression of attending Mrs. Collins as he spoke the words, his attention was truly fixed on her husband, eager to see how he reacted. The gentleman's temper had already been roused by their interview in the study. Would he be able to coax this agitation even further? He had high hopes, for Collins watched them now with his brow furrowed and black eyes narrowed.
"For a short time after my marriage, yes I did. However, Miss Elizabeth remained with us at Longborn only a short while. When she removed to a new household, Mr. Collins allowed Miss Bennet, who had been residing with my Aunt and Uncle in Meryton, to return to Longborn."
Collins' brow began to unfurl with the words of his wife, relaxing slightly. If Gantry had not heard Mr. Darcy's theory – that Adelaide Bernard was a former Miss Bennet of Longborn, and Mr. Collins profited from her endeavors on the stage and relationship with the famed Signore Forelli in some fashion – he may have missed the symptoms of agitation on Collins' face as he listened to his wife give her answer. But Gantry had not missed those looks, and neither had Mr. Darcy whose own interest in this dialogue, already considerable, had been heightened exponentially upon hearing the name Elizabeth from the Runner.
Elizabeth. The Derbyshire gentleman turned the name over in his mind several times while Gantry spoke, ruminating on this newly relayed information. He could not be sure how exactly Gantry had learned of this never-before mentioned Bennet sister but presumed he must have uncovered the information within the course of his morning calls with Bingley. Perhaps they had been able to visit Longborn Parish and view the Bennet family Bible? Darcy was eager to hear how such discoveries had been made, but there would be plenty of time to discuss the details of the investigation after it's completion. Presently, there was still much to learn, and Gantry was still speaking. Darcy felt his pulse quicken with anticipation.
The Londoner was answering Mrs. Collins with a smile. "It is unfortunate that Miss Elizabeth has been removed from her sisters, but such is often the case with large families. The Gantry children are quite divided these days. Has Miss Elizabeth made her home far from Longborn?" He asked politely.
Though Mrs. Collins' placid expression did not falter, the hand holding her teacup shook ever-so slightly, betraying her nerves. "Unfortunately, yes. My sister has gone north to _ County, to make her home with my Aunt Bennet." She paused then, and her voice cracked somewhat with emotion when she continued saying. "We have not seen her in many years."
"It is unfortunate that she should be settled so far from her own dear sisters as to make visiting a difficulty! There are Bennet relations in the north then?"
Mrs. Collins paused, as if to school her emotions. "Yes," she replied, regaining her usual composure. "there are a few Bennets left."
"How interesting!" Came the energetic response, "Mr. Collins had only just assured me that your sisters were the only Bennets left!"
If the name Elizabeth had the power of a gunshot, then this statement was nothing short of an explosion. Mrs. Collins' cerulean eyes widened comically, and her jaw slackened in surprise, unsure of how to answer. That Elizabeth, missing these past six years, had been sent to live with a Bennet relation had been the family-line to avoid scandal since she had run away. In fact, it had been a fiction of her husband's creation, one that he had taught to his wife with his fists.
The attention of the room was now on Mr. Collins, and his black eyes sparkled with a dangerous rage. Gantry rejoiced at the anger in his eyes, and pressed onward, turning his address to his primary suspect. "Indeed, sir, can I be mistaken?"
That Mr. Collins was a man of great pride and short temper had been established in the minds of the majority of those in the drawing room for some duration. For two young women, it was particularly fixed. In fact, pride and a short temper were considered by them to be among Mr. Collins' better qualities. Now this powerful, prideful man was being backed into a corner like a caged animal – it was only a matter of moments before he would lash out, having little regulation over the violent sway of his moods.
Mrs. Collins squared her shoulders, knowing that she alone would bear the brunt of her husband's frustrations, and must do everything in her power to dissolve this situation and pacify her Lord and Master as best as she was able. "I am sure," she spoke, watching discreetly as her husband trembled with anger, "there must be some misunderstanding. Elizabeth has been in the north with family these six years at least."
Gantry laughed hollowly, but it was Darcy who answered. "I assure you, Mrs. Collins, there has been no mistake. Mr. Collins spoke quite decisively that there are no Bennets left outside of your sisters, except perhaps some distant cousins whom he could not recall by name."
Now Jane turned to fully look to her husband, and her trembling nearly matched his own. "Sir?" she asked meekly, unsure of what to say.
Collins rose from his seat, towering over the room with his broad, muscular frame. His shoulders rolled back, and he held his head high, though it seemed to tilt slightly to the left. "You will forgive me," he forced through one side of thin, wavering lips, "My…distress for my son quite addled my mind."
If Collins was angry, then Darcy was filled with a righteous fury at this obvious subterfuge. "Your distress!" He spat with disdain, "Yes, your distress has been great indeed!"
In an uncharacteristic display, the elder man chose to ignore these comments. Instead he turned to Miss Bennet, who was attempting to communicate with her sister through expression alone. "Come, Mary." He said with a sharp authority. "It is time to take our leave."
Mary rose silently, her knees dipping into a curtsy. That they should leave at such a moment was acceptable to no one, save perhaps for Miss Bingley and her sister, who were confused and perturbed by such an unpleasant scene during afternoon tea. Their brother had been attending to Mrs. Collins' needs while Gantry's interview of Collins had been conducted and was just learning the details in question as they were being bandied about his parlor. However, he had learned enough of Mr. Collins' character from Mrs. Collins to find the prospect of Collins absconding with Miss Bennet equally as unacceptable as those who knew a good deal more.
Furthermore, Charles had one piece of information his friends were lacking. He knew what none other outside of the Collins family party were privy to, that Mr. Collins recalled Mary to Longborn for the express purpose of punishing and controlling the Bennet sisters in equal measure. Bingley was not a particularly brave or bold gentleman; in fact, he was rather more sensitive in nature than most men. However, this same soft-hearted nature had made him an incredibly loving brother to his sisters. Having given his heart so fully to Mrs. Collins, - he could still feel the echo of her kisses on his lips, after all – his brotherly love naturally extended itself to Miss Bennet.
"Miss Bennet," He spoke with unusual gravity, "Please, be seated. This interview is not concluded."
Mary was looking toward Bingley with an expression of such gratitude that it was positively arresting. Meanwhile her guardian sputtered, his great anger making it all the more difficult to form the words he needed to protest this gross upstart.
"Indeed, Mr. Bingley," Gantry said with clear and hearty approval, "There is a great deal more to be discussed regarding these cases. I have many questions for Miss Bennet and Mrs. Collins."
"Cases, sir?" Mary asked with feeling, pale eyes swiveling between the gentlemen.
Gantry laughed once more and bounded from his seat. "I have quite forgotten – the ladies are as yet unaware of my true purpose at Netherfield. I have come from London to investigate the assault of Reverend Collins – my name is Constable John Gantry, and I am a member of the Bow Street Magistrate's office."
"Constable!" Louisa Hurst exclaimed from her seat on the sofa.
"Indeed, ma'm." He answered with a dip of his head. "I hope that you can forgive our having concealed such information from you, but I believed I would better serve this investigation by having as few know such an undertaking was occurring as possible."
Collins reached across Gantry's chest and took Mary's elbow in a healthy grip. "I have spoken with you quite enough to be satisfied. I have never been so insulted as I have experienced on this day. Miss Bennet and I will be returning to Longborn immediately!"
"No sir." Came the firm, cold reply. "You will unhand Miss Bennet this instant. You will vacate my property immediately, and you shall not return until you have been summoned here." All eyes were now on Mr. Bingley, who had remained seated during this outburst. Not a trace of his typical joviality remained on his handsome face.
He rose, maneuvering around the table with the tea settings, now entirely forgotten, and passed both Gantry and Darcy to extend his arm to Mary. She looked between her guardian and her rescuer with wide eyes. "Miss Bennet, I believe you are chilled. You will be much more comfortable seated nearer to the fire. Allow me to escort you."
"…Y-yes. That is…I thank you, sir." Her free arm extended to take Bingley's, her hands shaking.
"Insolent child!" Collins roared, pulling on her other side with great strength. "Have you forgotten all that you owe me?"
If Caroline had been under Collins' spell just a few minutes prior to such a speech, he had quite broken it. This man was the worst sort of brute! While Caroline may have resented having her autumn interrupted by the Collins' family dilemmas, she was not wholly without proper feeling. She rose as well but crossed behind the sofa to pull the bell with authority.
"Sir," She said, as haughty as any had heard her, "My brother has requested that you depart Netherfield. I cannot contest his will in his own home. I am here, like all his guests, at his pleasure. I believe it would best suit all parties for you to leave us today and return when we are better prepared to continue this conversation."
Miss Bingley and her twenty thousand pounds were perhaps the only thing which could cut through Collins' blind rage in such a moment. That his son may recover and take Miss Bingley for a wife, bringing that fortune to Longborn's control, his fondest wish. He had begun to lay the groundwork for these rumors already. He could not undo all his hard work in a fit of temper. There would be plenty of opportunities in the future to show Mrs. Collins and Mary the depths of his displeasure. And perhaps, if he could get Miss Bingley for Longborn, he would find a way to revenge himself against Mr. Bingley for his insolence as well. No – he must let that young fop win this battle, if Collins had any hopes of winning the war.
"Perhaps," he hissed, "perhaps you are right. It has been a tumultuous time. Miss Bennet may remain, if it is your wish, Miss Bingley, but Longborn cannot remain neglected much longer."
"You are very kind, Mr. Collins." Said his wife, in her most docile, submissive tone. "You know what a featherhead I am. Mary is so sensible and helpful, and truly William needs us. I am sorry to neglect you, and I am exceedingly grateful for your patience during this trying time. We shall not delay an instant, once William is out of danger, we will return to Longborn with haste."
"Very well." He replied with angry resignation. "I shall hear of it if you dawdle, Mrs. Collins."
Jane, knowing her husband's moods better than anyone, did not reply with words, but dipped her head in a reverent display of respect.
Large, lumbering strides crossed the length of the elegant room. He paused at the threshold. "Miss Bingley, I thank you for your hospitality." He said gruffly. He looked as if he would say more, but at that moment the footman arrived, and Bingley ordered him to escort Mr. Collins to the drive with authority.
When Mr. Collins left the room, the collective breath of those who remained returned. Bingley looked at the two pairs of sisters present and seeing how truly distressed the Bennets were by such a display, and that his own sisters were not unperturbed, recognized the need for some degree of privacy. "Caroline, Louisa, I apologize for my display of temper. Caroline, thank you for your support in handling our guests. You have been a wonderful hostess for me." With a pointed look, the Master of Netherfield added, "I wonder, are all the arrangements for dinner quite complete?"
Reading his look, and hardly wanting to remain herself, Caroline dismissed herself from the company, taking Louisa with her. With the room so emptied, Gantry sat next to Mrs. Collins, who's head had remained hanging low since her husband's departure. "Now, Mrs. Collins," he said gently, "I wonder, can you tell me truly…among friends…where is your sister Elizabeth?"
Jane lifted her head to reveal a face wet with tears. They rolled freely down her cheeks, and she made no attempt to stem the tide. Jane felt as if she had never cried so much in her life as she had in these past few days at Netherfield, and now she had been thoroughly humiliated in front of company she admired, company her family was greatly indebted to, by her coarse, hateful husband. Mentally, she cursed herself for her weakness, not realizing how much they all admired her in that moment for her strength and forbearance.
She wanted to speak but was far too overcome with emotion to find the words. It had been so long since anyone had asked after Elizabeth that she had almost convinced herself of the lie that Collins had given to the world. Thinking of her now was altogether too painful. She managed to choke out the beginning of a word with a sob before buying her head in her hands weeping bitterly.
"Mrs. Collins is very distressed, Gantry." Darcy said with delicacy, as Bingley sat himself on her other side, tutting and thrusting his handkerchief into her hands. "Surely further questions can wait until she is sufficiently recovered."
"I am sorry to be uncouth, Mrs. Collins. You must forgive me if I am not behaving as a gentleman, but surely you see that truth has never been more necessary, and that I must act precipitously. I must know what has happened to Miss Elizabeth. It is very important."
"Please sir," Mary said, her typical stoicism recovered somewhat, "my sister is distraught because she does not know the answer to your question. Elizabeth left Longborn six years ago, that much is accurate. It is also true that we sisters are indeed, the last of the Bennets. There are no relations in the north, this is a tale invented by Mr. Collins to shield the unhappy truth."
"Miss Bennet, I implore you, please divulge all that you know. There is much at stake." Gantry rose, leaving Mrs. Collins to Bingley's comforts.
"I am afraid that I will live you with more questions than answers, Mr. Gantry, but I shall aid you the best that I can." She paused. "I have kept this information from you, Jane, because I knew that you would not be able to rest once you had learned what I have learned. I should have kept it from you still, if circumstances were not what they are."
These forbidding words slowed the onslaught of Mrs. Collins' tears. She sniffled but raised her head to look at her sister. "Whatever can you mean, Mary?" She asked, voice thick with emotion.
If Darcy's pulse had quickened earlier, his heart now pounded in his chest, blood thundering in his ears. "Please, do continue, Miss Bennet." He said, taking a seat and indicating for her to do the same.
Mary followed his example, sitting primly, and looking rather nervous. She took a deep breath to steady herself and spoke. "My sister Elizabeth is the second eldest, between myself and Mrs. Collins in age. After our father died, his daughters were split among family on our mother's side, for as you had already surmised, Mr. Gantry, we have no Bennet relatives remaining. Mrs. Collins became betrothed, and she and myself were sent to live with our Aunt and Uncle Phillips, in Meryton, to await the wedding. The younger girls were sent away to school, and Elizabeth went to London, in the care of my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner."
She held for a moment, making sure the assembled group followed her story. With an encouraging nod from Gantry, she continued, saying, "When the Banns were called for the marriage, my Aunt and Uncle returned to Hertfordshire with Elizabeth to attend the ceremony. She had a most amusing story to tell from her time in London…a very eccentric man, an artist, had come to our Uncle's warehouse for fabrics at the same time that my Aunt had been calling at the office with Elizabeth in tow. Her looks had so impressed him that he begged my Aunt for the opportunity to sketch her. My Aunt was eventually persuaded to acquiesce to this scheme."
"When Elizabeth returned to Longborn, both she and Jane begged that Lizzy be allowed to stay. I was very young then, and I found my sister's husband quite intimidating at that age. I was happy enough to stay with my Aunt and Uncle Phillips and allow Lizzy to take my place at Longborn. Jane was married and the arrangements seemed settled enough. However, some six months later…Elizabeth disappeared. The family's belief is that she had run away…yet where could a girl of three and ten run to? Lizzy was a clever girl, far and above the smartest of the Bennet sisters, but could she be so clever as to disappear without a trace? For though there was much searching, she was not be found."
"I think, largely because of their grief, my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner began to take a prodigious deal of interest in me. Indeed, they quite spoiled me. As I began to surpass what Aunt Phillips could hope to teach me with her limited education, I was recalled frequently to London so that I might benefit from the tutelage of masters. During one such occasion, my Uncle engaged a drawing master for me. This teacher was quite enamored with portraiture work and arranged an outing for his pupils so that we might view the new series The Many Moods of Venus, and there I saw my sister Elizabeth after a separation of more than two years. "
Jane gasped, her beautiful face tear stained and pale. "You have seen her?" she whispered.
"Yes Jane…I have seen her." Mary answered, tears pooling in her eyes, but refusing to fall. "She surrounded me from all sides…for she was the subject of the paintings…our little Lizzy had become the muse, Adelaide Bernard."
"How can this be?" Jane asked, turning with frantic energy toward the men sitting on each side of her. "How can Lizzy possibly have gone to London with no one knowing? Why did she not seek out her family in town? Why has she sent no word in all these years? Why did she leave at all?"
"That, my dear Mrs. Collins," Gantry replied softly and kindly, "is exactly what I intend to find out."
AN - Whew - you guys got all that? Please let me know if there is any section that needs to be fleshed out further so you have a better sense of perspective, that was my biggest concern when I was writing. And of course, any other comment, question, or constructive criticism you may have to offer! Love hearing your thoughts.
Another note - I've been thinking that the summary for this story doesn't really quite paint a picture of what the story is about. Not sure how I want to change it, I just know that it doesn't "feel right" to me. How much does a summary affect your interest in reading a story? Do you think mine could do with some revision?