The Beginning, Next Section
Part I ~ Damn Tedious Waste of An Evening! Posted on Sunday, 2 June 2002
Mr. Darcy rolled his eyes as he exited the Bingleys' carriage, and adjusted his bicorne.
Why was he doing this to himself? He would much rather stay at Netherfield, sitting in front of the drawing room fire with a volume worthy of his attention in his lap. But no, his place as Bingley's guest was here, to enjoy himself amongst a group of social inferiors who were completely unknown to him, and would, please Lord, remain so hereafter.
Nor was he disposed to appear in any company this evening. Miss Bingley's attentions to him continued unabated, regardless of the utter lack of favourable response - for Mr. Darcy did, occasionally, when at leisure to do so unobserved, indulge in the same kind of reaction that he had bestowed on the unruly bicorne. Sadly, it was less than likely that he would be able to escape scrutiny on this occasion. Mr. Darcy thus looked forward to further tests of his fortitude as he skeptically viewed the exterior of the assembly rooms.
Charles Bingley wished as fervently for the evening to commence, as his friend desired it to end. He was good-humoured, conversed easily, and was at that moment possessed by considerable impatience to meet his new neighbours, or rather, their daughters - since the neighbours themselves have been filing through the Netherfield drawing room for the past three weeks.
His eagerness only seemed to increase as they were advancing towards the door behind which, Mr. Hurst diagnosed with his usual candour, there was 'some accursed racket going on'.
At last, they entered the assembly rooms. Bingley led the group, while Darcy remained in the background. His look was firmly fixed on a point on the wall opposite the entrance - in which he was slightly hindered by the feather of Mrs. Hurst's turban, which persisted in moving even though Mrs. Hurst stopped in her tracks. But this was nothing. If Mrs. Hurst's headdress was to be the sole factor to interfere with his peace of mind that evening, the latter may still prove a success. Mr. Darcy's object on this occasion was precisely the same as at any other social event: to keep his distance and preserve his sanity while awaiting the unavoidable.
The room fell silent upon their entrance. It was precisely the effect the entire Netherfield party relied upon, whilst one of its members at least longed for it to exceed the requisite few seconds. Darcy felt the inquisitive eyes upon him, and his discomfort was rapidly rising despite the remarkable amount of experience in similarly disconcerting situations.
Within moments of their advent a smiling middle-aged gentleman, a Sir William Lucas walked towards them in a hurried manner, welcoming them all with what he deemed a suitable quantity of pomp, and little or no wish to conceal that he viewed them as his prize exhibit.
Next on the agenda, Mr. Darcy dragged around the room - not on a leash, since one regrettably lacking - introduced to people for whom he can have nothing but the most fervent desire to become his intimate acquaintances. Special place amongst the latter to be reserved for ladies who are sharp enough to connect the name Darcy with the proper locality and, happily, possess marriageable daughters.There is no end to my good fortune, it would seem.
In an attempt to escape the humiliation of being paraded about, Darcy hastily removed himself to another corner of the room, followed by Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Sir William thus remained with only one candidate for the obligatory tour, but this one surpassed all his expectations. He did not even need to exercise the gentlest of pulls on the gentleman's sleeve, Bingley accompanied him most willingly.
Darcy sighed as he observed his friend and Sir William approach a female pillar of the community. Standing next to her were two younger ladies, very probably pillars in the making.
Strangely enough, Darcy permitted his gaze to linger. The taller of the two young ladies was indeed exceptionally beautiful. That, perhaps, was what caught his interest, and not the fact she was smiling charmingly at Bingley. Darcy, nevertheless, felt an irresistible urge to be smiled at. He strode across the room and arrived just in time to catch the young ladies' names, after Bingley had politely assured Mrs. Bennet that he was honoured to meet her at last.
This struck Darcy as slightly surprising.
Bennet? Must be the wife of one of the relentless callers.
The lady bubbled over with ill-concealed rapture and seized the moment. Her fan swooshed over to her left.
"This is my eldest, Jane."
Exquisite!
"My second eldest, Elizabeth."
Second, indeed!
"There is Mary, sitting next to Mrs. Long."
Oh dear.
"And the youngest, Kitty and Lydia, you see, they are dancing."
Mr. Darcy, more with the intent to escape further communication than to satisfy any real inclination to do so on his part, followed another wave of Mrs. Bennet's fan with the corner of his eye and a slight turning of his upper body.
Screaming and galloping about with the officers, you mean, surely.
Miss Bennet's smiles persisted radiant. As, however, they were directed at Bingley, who promptly engaged her for the next two dances... Following him had obviously been a mistake. Mr. Darcy was convinced of this as he found himself addressed by Mrs. Bennet.
That, I presume, is her name.
Having spoken to him without being properly introduced, Mrs. Bennet courageously sallied forth into another unforgivable act. She seemed to be offering, yes, offering, her second daughter as his partner - but not before she urged Miss Bennet to thank Mr. Bingley for asking her to dance.
She cannot be serious.
A moment's scrutiny of the evidence at hand suggested otherwise. What else was there for Mr. Darcy of Pemberley to do under these circumstances but to bow without a word, and leave for the corner where Miss Bingley and her sister were firmly holding their superior position? That in this action Mr. Darcy was also led by the charming old saying, 'Better the devil you know', is not entirely inconceivable.
From the aforementioned corner, as he very soon found out, he very likely had the best position in the entire room to observe the glowing Bingley escort the eldest Miss Bennet to the set. The glow, Mr. Darcy grudgingly admitted, was not strictly confined to his friend.
In the meantime, Miss Bingley was leaning towards him, complaining of heat, noise and the vulgarity of the assembly. Her suffering was such that, as she was busy communicating her frustration, the feather of her headdress drooped under its burden and brushed against Mr. Darcy's temple. Every possibility, however remote, of inducing Mr. Darcy to commiserate, was thereby irrevocably lost.
He excused himself and moved towards the table with the refreshments.
Virtually the only existing possibility to avoid being plagued is to follow Hurst's example.
As soon as his glass was full, he had little choice but face the assembly again. And surely enough, the first sight on offer was his friend sharing a merry laugh with Miss Bennet within yards of him.
Shameless deceit of centuries past is finally brought to light. Angels are not round-faced wing-sporting boys as is shown on world's celebrated paintings and frescoes, but charming females possessed of an elegant figure. At eight and twenty, wool is pulled off my eyes at last! And to think I would have to totter in the darkness forever had I not come to the illustrious ... Er, Meryton.
As he caught Bingley's eye, the latter beamed at him in the manner that let Darcy know he was fully aware of the treasure he had stumbled upon. Mr. Darcy stood by calmly and waited for Bingley to come share his monumental discovery with him. But when his friend reached his side, the opening was quite different from what had been anticipated.
"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about in this stupid manner. You had much better dance!"
"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. Your sisters are engaged at present and there is not another woman in the room, whom it would not be a punishment to stand up with."
Except Miss Bennet, and you are monopolising her.
"I would not be as fastidious as you are for a kingdom! I have never met so many pleasant girls in my life, and several of them are -"
Here it comes. A ... An ... Ang...
Here he glanced as Miss Bennet, who smiled gently and averted her eyes immediately afterwards.
"-Uncommonly pretty!"
Ah! Not there yet. Not after two dances! Astonishing. Well, the task of behaving sensibly, according to the custom, falls to my lot. Still...
"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," Darcy said under his breath.
His friend's concession was encouragement enough for Mr. Bingley to open his heart.
"Oh, Darcy! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld!"
Come now, you do not do the lady justice. There is, after all, a much better word to describe her. Shall I say it for you? For I have seen the light. She is an...
But Mr. Bingley was not as preoccupied with the blessings Fortune had showered upon him as to neglect his friend's well being.
"Look, there is one of her sisters sitting right there. She is very pretty, too, and, I dare say, very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."
"Which do you mean?"
Have I missed -? Ah. The second sister.
Darcy caught her eye, withdrew his own, and said,
"She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me."
If you find her pretty, then you dance with her and welcome! An odd repetition of my dancing lessons. Blasted Fitzwilliam! Always wheedled his way into the prettiest girl in the room accepting him. Miss Bartlett was a head taller than he was, but did it bother him? No! And the incident with the broomstick...
These reminiscences did not contribute much to Mr. Darcy's mood. He shrugged impatiently,
"I am in no humour, Bingley, to give consequence to young ladies slighted by other men! You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me!"
Introduce me to his partner's sister, indeed!
Something, however, unexpectedly shook Mr. Darcy in his indignation. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had vacated her seat and passed him on her way towards the door. In passing, she looked at him.
As a result of this look, Darcy felt as if Forsythe had been too thorough in the task of fastening his neckcloth.
What does she mean by looking at me like that? Oh no, no! She could not have heard me! Could she?
Darcy's alarm increased as he saw Miss Elizabeth approach another young lady. Shortly after, it became rather obvious that their gazes were directed at him. Miss Elizabeth was apparently sharing something with her friend and, yes...
She is laughing! Laughing! At me! Good Lord!
Darcy groaned inwardly, feeling himself blushing. He turned into the direction away from the door and walked away briskly. Yet...
He could still hear the clear laughter of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Part II ~ Know Thy Enemy Posted on Sunday, 2 June 2002
Safely back at Netherfield, there was, of course, an absolute necessity to discuss the assembly, or, as Miss Bingley put it, displaying her customary charm and benevolence, 'country's finest collection of savages'.
Darcy felt such a characterisation quite close to the actual truth, however, he did not consider vocalising his agreement with Miss Bingley's formulation. She might, after all, get the notion that he actually wished to take part in the conversation, and that, Mr. Darcy decided, would perhaps prove to have a disastrous effect on the equilibrium of his existence under Bingley's roof.
Miss Bingley and her sister proceeded gleefully to a minute dissection of the local ladies and their appearance. The name of Bennet was amongst the first to emerge.
As if I needed reminding!...
Darcy turned towards the fireplace to hide an expression of growing anger on his countenance. That somebody would actually laugh at him, and go about it quite openly! But -
My blasted tongue! Quite beneath me. It was Bingley and his infernal meddling that had done it.
But he was not to reprove himself without an interruption: Miss Bingley would have his opinion.
"And so none of the Hertfordshire ladies could please you, Mr. Darcy? Not even the famous Miss Bennets?"
The ladies shared a smile in anticipation of having their judgment corroborated by the highest authority. The latter in turn desired the subject dropped as soon as may be. To that effect, he pronounced laconically,
"I saw little beauty and no breeding at all."
Bingley let out a cry of offended dissent. Darcy went on to admit that Miss Bennet indeed was a bright exception in every respect. Bingley was not gratified by such lukewarm commendation and took the matter into his own hands. She was an angel, and that was that.
I am enthralled you at last find the proper word. As it is, I shall hardly praise your favourite to the skies, man! As for her sister...
"I heard Eliza Bennet described as a famous local beauty. What say you to that, Mr. Darcy?"
Oh, leave me be!
"I should have as soon called her mother a wit!"
There, will that satisfy you? God, I wish I had never set foot in Hertfordshire!
Bingley jumped out of his chair amidst his sisters' affected protestations as to Mr. Darcy's cruelty.
"Darcy, I shall never understand how can you go through the world determined to be displeased by everything and everyone in it!"
Oh no, Bingley as the knight in shining armour! If you knew a little more about the world, if you had any idea, as I do, of how scheming, conniving and dishonest people closest to you, never mind strangers, can be, you would understand me perfectly. But no, you have me to shelter you from any imprudence or harm, therefore...
But Darcy, of course, did not voice his thoughts. Instead, he retorted matter-of-factly as he leaned over the mantelpiece,
"And I will never understand why you are in such a rage to improve of everything and everyone in it."
In face of this repeated demonstration as to the contrast in disposition of two old friends, the evening thus drew to an end. Before it did, however, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley recapitulated their findings and proclaimed the eldest Miss Bennet a dear, sweet girl, while the rest of her family - and indeed, company - were found to be at best unworthy of notice.
Shifting in his bed a couple of hours later, unable to sleep, Fitzwilliam Darcy found Miss Elizabeth Bennet's laughter persistently resounding in his ears.
I had no business speaking of her as I did. It was against every decorum and I dare say she thinks me a brute ... But what is her good opinion to me?! One woman less who would try to please me then. Good! Lord knows I have had plenty of trouble from that quarter. Yes, well done.
Yet sleep would not come for a good three-quarter of an hour, and likewise, the image of Elizabeth Bennet curling her lip as she looked at him sideways, would not go away.
Miss Bingley was on great form. Vastly pleased by the fact that she and Mr. Darcy were of the same mind regarding the Hertfordshire society even without her opinion being obliged to undergo minor adjustments, she chatted incessantly. They were beginning to see things the same way! Excellent progress. Well worthy of staying in midst of nowhere.
Surprisingly enough, the morning found Darcy in a rather good humour as well, though, it may be surmised, his state of mind was not based on the sudden congruity of his and Caroline Bingley's opinions. He had put the previous evening's folly and nonsense behind him and turned over a new leaf. Miss Elizabeth Bennet would never dare trouble him with her attentions, and Miss Bingley he could deal with. Bingley was evidently impressed by Miss Bennet, even though she did smile too much, but even he knew better, surely, as to degrade himself by such a connection. The day before him was not to include a succession of mortifying exposures to various sources of unpleasantness. No.
"Good morning, everyone! I trust you had a good night's sleep after the pleasant evening we had yesterday!"
A few quick steps, and Bingley was seated at the head of the table. Shuffling through the post, which he would bring with him and then leave scattered on and under the breakfast table, he exclaimed,
"Ah! Here's a note from Sir Lucas!... Well, how kind of him - he invites us ... for this evening. It is to be a small family gathering, just a few friends and neighbours. How thoughtful!" beamed Bingley.
"Who said there was nothing to do in the country?"
Myself and every other person in the room except you?
Miss Bingley immediately detected a cloud looming over the previously spotless horizon.
"My dear Charles, I cannot comprehend how can the society of these people possibly give you any pleasure. Mr. Darcy, Louisa and myself were agreeing that we find it unendurable."
Before Mr. Bingley had time to reply, Darcy spoke calmly,
"However, Miss Bingley, you should not wish to slight your brother's new neighbours, I believe."
After the arbiter had spoken, Miss Bingley would naturally not dream of it. To Lucas Lodge they were to go.
Darcy was hardly in the room for two minutes when he began to regret that he had not excused himself. Sir William's 'small family gathering' proved to be a repetition of the night before, only on a smaller scale, and thus also providing considerably less space in which to avoid interaction.
Well, you've brought this upon yourself. Ah, there is Miss Bennet. Splendid, Bingley. Moves with a speed of an arrow, he does. Is that Miss Elizabeth? Best to get myself to the window. Do not... Oh no, here I go blushing like a milkmaid! Blast!
He clenched his fists and strode about the room to hide his growing uneasiness.
I had better keep her in view. Wouldn't wish her to come upon me unexpectedly and catch me off my guard. - Good Lord, the mother! Yes, Bingley does have five thousand a year, and what of it? A woman like her with two such beautiful daughters? - Steady, Darcy! Two? Miss Bennet is indeed...but Miss Elizabeth ... Where is she? A-ha!
Without fully realising where his feet were taking him, he moved within hearing distance of the little circle of which she made a part. His action made her aware of his presence, and suddenly, she looked at him whilst absent-mindedly stroking her arm. Her face bore a puzzled expression. Darcy felt he could not move, nor could he turn away his eyes. Inadvertently, he made a move toward his neck. He experienced another sudden impulse to loosen his neckcloth. The moment after that, something or somebody else captured Elizabeth's attention, and she looked away.
A second longer, and I would be making a spectacle of myself. Learn your lesson, Darcy, go away, and do not look at her again.
This was easier said than done, for Elizabeth had spoken, and Darcy felt he might just as well stay for a moment longer and hear what she had to say.
Know thy enemy - no harm in that.
"Are you in Meryton to subdue the discontented populace or do you defend Hertfordshire against the French?"
With difficulty, Darcy suppressed a smile.
So, be it ever so slightly, Miss Bennet ridicules Colonel Forster as well ... without a shred of malice ... Most interesting to observe ... How her eyes shine and sparkle as she delivers the blow. Devastating precision!
"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy!"
Uh? Who? Oh no. Leave me be!
But Sir William charged ahead.
"Nothing like dancing, you know, one of the refinements of every polished society."
What? Dancing? Where from did this subject spring? Ah! The younger Bennets and the officers are bent on destroying his drawing room floor, and he is ecstatic over it. Go, go, man, I must hear what she is saying!
"And unpolished society."
Sir William was at a loss.
"Sir?"
"Every savage can dance," constituted Darcy with the composure he did not feel, hoping to put an end to the conversation.
"Yes, quite," Sir William obligingly agreed.
Oh, no! She's coming this way. Could it be...? No, she's gone. What...? Let her go, you silly man!
Still, Sir William was a man with a mission.
"Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner."
Part III ~ The Objectionable Partner Posted on Sunday, 9 June 2002
"You cannot refuse to dance, I'm sure, when such beauty is before you."
Sir William blinked good-humouredly without the slightest notion of what mortification he was inflicting upon the parties concerned.
Darcy almost gasped. To be offered Miss Elizabeth Bennet as his dancing partner for the third time already, and for the third time without a shadow of inclination on the lady's side! The embarrassment he felt was enhanced by his own acute feeling of having wronged Elizabeth the previous evening, and, to no small degree, by her quiet, proud expression, as she quietly assured both gentlemen she had not moved their way in order to beg for a partner.
Beg? No, I cannot picture you beg for anything! - Come, Darcy, make amends. She is Bingley's neighbour after all.
In spite of the choking feeling in his throat, he at last ventured,
"I would be very happy if you did me the honour of dancing with me, Miss Bennet."
That came out perfectly well. Why shouldn't I dance with her, after all? It is harmless enough, and I am sure I will enjoy her company. Yes ... Her eyes are indeed most fine ... She is intelligent enough, surely, to realise that it does not mean ... Excuse me?
"Thank you, but excuse me, I am not inclined to dance."
Thank you, but ... Not inclined? To dance with me? Very well. I deserved that, I suppose. But the next time I propose a dance, by Lord, I shall lead you to the set!
Darcy watched her walk away with an amused expression on his face.
We shall see who has the last laugh.
"I believe I can guess your thoughts at this moment," cooed a voice in his ear.
"I should imagine not."
Or you would be miles away by now, chasing some other wretched man and his ten thousand pounds.
"You are thinking how insupportable it would be, to spend many evenings in such tedious company."
Present company most decidedly not excluded.
"No, indeed, my mind was more agreeably engaged. I've been meditating on a very great pleasure a pair of fine eyes in a face of a pretty woman can bestow."
Ha!
Miss Bingley could not let this type of a remark by the object of her desire just pass by. Could it be that her exertions had at last begun to bear fruit? Certainly, the step which she contemplated was most comfortably taken against the reassuring backdrop of music and talk.
"And may one dare ask whose eyes have inspired such reflections?"
Before he could stop himself, the sentence was out of his mouth, and he had owned it with an expression bordering on the smallest of smiles,
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet's."
Good God, did I really say that? I did, didn't I?
He heard Miss Bingley draw breath behind his back, as she strived to retain her self-possession as well as her balance.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet's? I am all astonishment!"
You are not the alone in your astonishment. What possessed you, Darcy? You will never hear the end of it now.
Under the circumstances, Darcy deemed it wise to avoid both Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bingley. For the remainder of the evening, he assumed his usual position in the background, speaking only a few words to Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet.
The drive back to Netherfield found half of the party at their most silent. Miss Bingley was unusually reticent on the subject of the deficiencies of the company they had left behind. She was only heard to say once how excessively tired she was. Mrs. Hurst alone was an obliging audience to Mr. Bingley's soliloquies on Miss Bennet's superiority.
"Come on, Darcy, what is the matter? I am sure you cannot be tired, for you have only stood about, hardly ever speaking!"
"I had not realised you had the time and the inclination to keep track of the number of my utterances. Now, when I am aware of your interest in the matter, I shall endeavor to satisfy."
Mr. Bingley was of opinion that a change of subject was perhaps called for. Alas, he was not very fortunate in his choice.
"Darcy, my friend, I meant no harm. I understand you may recoil from speaking to people whom you hardly know. But what is your objection to dancing, pray?"
"Bingley, your logic astounds me. Whatever for would a man wish to dance with people whom he does not find interesting enough to converse with?"
And why I suddenly wish I had been able to dance and converse with Miss Elizabeth, I really do not know.
"I spoke to Sir William Lucas and he regretted Miss Elizabeth being disinclined to dance with you."
Wonderful! Does all Hertfordshire know by now that I had been rejected? - Oh, we've got your attention now, eh, Miss Bingley? - Blast, how far away is Netherfield?
"If you must know, Bingley, I have been more or less compelled to ask her, in consequence of ... Something Sir William himself said. Luckily, she saw my request for what it was - mere politeness, and declined the offer."
Darcy's voice betrayed his irritation as he abruptly concluded,
"I believe I can safely promise you never to dance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
As he uttered the promise which only Miss Bingley could possibly yearn for, the carriage had entered the gravel path to Netherfield. Soon after their descent from the carriage, Darcy excused himself. Miss Bingley looked as if she were more than willing to accompany him, perhaps to strike the iron while the iron was hot, but alas! her sister was less disposed to act as a necessary chaperone to any such blacksmith venture. Thus Darcy was released to the quiet and solitude of the Netherfield library.
Dear Lord, your punishment for my behaviour yesterday is most effective. I do hope you take pleasure in it, for I truly do not. Such scorn and contempt I have never before witnessed - and well deserved it was, too! - in a woman's face. It serves me right.
Darcy's mood had changed completely. With Bingley taking time to berate him - yet again - for his apparent lack of social skills, and his sisters as their audience, he felt not a shadow of amusement. Etched on his mind, Elizabeth's expression now gave him more pain than pleasure.
He was relieved to find himself alone. Flinging himself into an armchair, he closed his eyes and contemplated the development of his acquaintance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Had he been in my place, he would have danced with her a dozen times by now, and very probably to the vast enjoyment of both parties. As indeed, he has, not a dozen times, but twice, yes. I, on the other hand, offend her abominably to start with, then stare at her like an inhabitant of bedlam, and then, apparently, offend her again! Not to mention my little heart-to-heart with Miss Bingley ... As good as swearing never to dance with Miss Elizabeth was a fitting conclusion to this masterpiece of diplomacy. What else could I have possibly done? Oh, kept quiet. Surely not!
Unable to keep still, he paced the room back and forth, when suddenly there was a knock on the door.
"Excuse me. I say, Darcy ... Have I said something that affronted you? If so, I do apologise. Sometimes I carry on without thinking ... You are my closest friend, Darcy, always have been. I would not wish..."
"Bingley, there really is no need..."
But Bingley was adamant about it.
"I am sure I have said something wrong, or you would not be here now, all alone. It cannot be Caroline, for, compared to her usual goings-on, she left you in tolerable peace this evening."
You choose a fine time to become observant.
"Bingley, it is I who should regret my words. I was biting and sarcastic. I do not know what came over me. I ... Miss Eli ... Never mind. I was in the wrong. Forgive me. Can we forget all about it?"
Bingley's countenance lit up. He did not want a prolonged discussion either. The sheer fact that Darcy apologised was enough to overwhelm him and make him slightly uncomfortable.
"Why, my dear fellow, there is nothing to forget! Now, shall you join me for a little glass of port? I had such a nice conversation I had with Miss Bennet! She is truly..."
The next day was devoted to sport, and the gentlemen were engaged to spend the evening with the officers in Meryton. Darcy found Colonel Forster interesting to talk to, especially as they shared an acquaintance - Darcy's own cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam, the younger son of the Earl of Matlock. Bingley was merry in every company, and the officers of -shire militia, a cheerful crowd of young men, were no exception. Mr. Hurst looked forward to the refreshments, of which there was always an abundant choice at Colonel Forster's. All Netherfield gentlemen enjoyed their evening to various degrees, and did not miss the society of the two ladies in the least.
Upon their return to the house, they rather soon retired for the night, understanding that the ladies had done so more than an hour earlier. Darcy excused himself first. He had managed to banish all thoughts of the previous evening's events from his mind all evening long, but as he lay in the dark, he felt them coming on in full force.
Tossing and turning, he finally buried his head in the pillow, whispering,
"How did I allow myself to get into such a situation?"
The apparition, light and pleasing in form, easy and playful in her demeanour, curled her lip and professed herself disinclined to dance.
Darcy hit his pillow hard with his right fist.
A girl who has nothing but her beauty to recommend her! Beauty which you proclaimed non-existing at the very beginning of your acquaintance! How did this argument necessitate staring at this very woman like a schoolboy - a mere country girl - you, who could have any woman of fortune and good breeding for the asking ... Willing to engage in an impromptu hop and skip together with silly girls and reckless officers! Get a grip, man!
He sat upright in bed. With a swift movement, he swept away the bedclothes and got up. The floor was cold, but Darcy did not feel it. Outside, the moon was almost full, lighting up the grounds from a sky cleared by the afternoon storms. Looking at the window glass, he caught a glimpse of himself.
What a laughable sight ... Even Bingley has noticed there is something wrong. And how I snapped at him! He does not deserve it ... Instead of protecting him from a foolish match, I was on the verge of letting people guess as to the possibility of the same in my own case! - Darcy, remember who you are. There is too much is at stake to be...
"This nonsense stops right here and now."
Part IV(a) ~ Mr. Darcy is All Politeness Posted on Sunday, 9 June 2002
In which Mr. Darcy discovers the benefits of an early morning walk and Mr. Bingley continues being observant although he does not realise it
As he rose the following morning, Darcy was determined to remain true to his resolution. He quite liked the second Miss Bennet, and due to his ungracious behaviour at the Meryton assembly, he was resolute to be as polite to her as the difference in social station allowed, without giving her any occasion to entertain hopes of being able to influence him in any way.
In a few days, he would leave for London in any case. His business there could not be delayed for much longer.
There! Nothing and no one beyond the interest of my family and my estate has ever been able to affect me. This will not change. Indeed, how could it?
As he was assisting him dress, his valet informed Mr. Darcy of the presence of a houseguest at Netherfield.
"It is a Miss Bennet, sir. I believe she arrived yesterday afternoon during a rainstorm. Unfortunately, she appears to have come on horseback, and was taken with a heavy cold during dinner."
Elizabeth! Ill, and at Netherfield! Good God, how is she?
"Forsythe, how is the lady this morning? Is she any better?"
"I do not know, sir. Which coat would you prefer, sir? The black or the green one?"
Damn the coat! How is she?
"Would you inquire, Forsythe? Never mind the coat now. Go, man!"
The thought of Elizabeth Bennet lying ill a few doors away affected Darcy deeply. He stepped to the window and looked out. It was a glorious morning. The sky had cleared completely after a heavy outpour of rain the previous afternoon.
What was she doing riding in such weather?
Darcy stood with his back to the window, neckcloth in hand, and waited for what seemed an eternity. At long last, he heard footsteps along the corridor. The sound prompted him to remove his gaze from the door and resume his former station in front of the mirror.
The servant entered with a worried expression.
"I regret to inform you, sir, that Miss Jane Bennet is not well at all. The local apothecary has already been sent for."
So it is not a mere trifling cold! Jane Bennet?
"Did you say Miss Jane Bennet, Forsythe?"
"Yes, sir. The eldest Miss Bennet, I believe. The friend of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst."
"Yes, yes, thank you. That will be all."
"But sir..."
"What?"
"Your neckcloth ... If you would permit me to tie it, sir?"
Forsythe's fingers worked swiftly and expertly. That done, he allowed himself the liberty of donning his master the coat of his, Forsythe's choice, lest the said master would bolt out of the room in a waistcoat only.
"Oh yes. I quite forgot ... And the grey overcoat. I shall go for a walk before breakfast. It is very fine out."
"Indeed, sir. There, sir. I bid you good morning, sir."
Darcy nearly ran down the stairs, and out of the house. Once outside, he slowed down his pace and took the path which led towards the fields, away from Netherfield.
The long grey coat, which he did not bother to button, flapped behind him in the breeze. He walked with his hands clasped firmly on his back and with his head bent down. His gaze rested upon his boots, as if he hoped that by fixing his eyes, he would also be able to fix his thoughts on something or somebody else than the pervasive image of easy playfulness that had once again completely occupied his mind.
Jumping to conclusions, ignoring facts - it is Jane Bennet who is their favourite, of course, but I immediately thought ... - No, I was simply concerned about an acquaintance. Still am. Nothing extraordinary in that. Common courtesy. One would naturally be concerned ... - Now, business. I shall dispatch a letter for Mitchell this morning to prepare the London house. I will leave ... perhaps the day after tomorrow. Let me see...
He had by then approached a small group of trees amidst a field, approximately half a mile away from the house when a sound awoke Darcy from his musings. It was the rustle of skirts. He stopped as if struck by a thunderbolt.
"Miss Bennet!"
He bowed hastily.
"Mr. Darcy," and a small courtesy was all he got by way of a reply from Elizabeth, who was slightly out of breath from her three-mile walk across the fields.
Benumbed by the sight of the very person he tried so hard not to give any thought to, he forgot about all his resolutions, and could only rest his eyes on the bewitching apparition. Thus it was the bewitching apparition that spoke first, and somewhat haughtily. But Mr. Darcy did not observe the tone - it was with a moment's delay, indeed, that he made out the meaning.
"I have come to inquire about my sister."
"On foot?"
No, perhaps she flew over the fields! Darcy, stop talking nonsense!
"As you see."
Darcy was unable to hide a smile when he saw her reaction to his comment.
Rely on her to make a cutting remark whenever possible ... And here goes the brow, and she wrinkles her forehead ... How her eyes shine, it's most amazing! I do not care if she thinks me a half-wit. Which is very probably the case.
Miss Bennet was apparently less entertained by her situation.
"Would you be so kind as to take me to her?" she inquired rather impatiently.
On saying that, the lady apparently thought it best to reinforce her appeal with some activity to that effect, and so she turned in the direction of the house briskly. Darcy only had time enough to gesture her to lead the way when she had already done so.
He stood as frozen for one brief moment and let his eye rest upon her figure. Her dress was simple and unpretentious, and became her very well. Unfortunately, its hem was badly soiled by mud. Her boots were very dirty, too, but upon closer inspection, Darcy found his own to be no better off.
How she marches on, bonnet in hand ... Her walk is as sprightly as her comments ... What a woman - miles through dirt, just to see her sister! - Oh do not stand here like an idiot, go and talk to her!
But the rest of their walk passed in silence nevertheless. Elizabeth well nigh mastered the distance that separated them from the house when Mr. Darcy caught up with her. He had an impression he made her a most unwelcome companion, yet he felt strangely content.
He cast little sideways glances at her while they mounted the stairs that led to the house. Her eyes he could not make contact with, for the glossy dark ringlets bouncing by the side of her face, unrestricted by the bonnet, prevented him from doing so. But in this way, he could at least observe her without being perceived. Admittedly, he struggled with himself to direct his gaze elsewhere. Nevertheless, his boots had completely lost the captivating power they seemed to possess prior to their accidental meeting.
They parted in the hall. Elizabeth was escorted to the sick chamber. Darcy watched her ascend the stairs, his eyes fixed on the nape of her neck which the tiny dark curls upon it seemed to caress.
Just as she was entering the guest bedroom where the invalid lay, Darcy muster the presence of mind to say what should have been said quite some time ago.
But as staring does mobilise a man's faculties completely...
"I hope you find your sister to be better, Miss Bennet! Please be so good as to convey her my best wishes for a speedy recovery."
She stopped for a moment, and with what seemed to be a surprised expression, uttered quietly,
"Thank you, sir."
A moment later she disappeared into the room.
Darcy had just begun to reflect upon this unexpected encounter, when Bingley rushed into the hall.
"Darcy! Where have you been? The ladies have just declared you lost, and were about to organise a search party. I believe Caroline had a good mind to comb the woods herself, provided the weather kept fine! Hahaha!"
He slapped Darcy's shoulder and continued in more hushed tones.
"I wager she'd be happy to hear you were well looked after by a certain young lady by the name of Bennet ... But worry not, my friend, for she hardly ever leaves her chair at breakfast, and I, who do ..."
Good God, he is winking! He is actually winking at me!
"... made no effort to enlighten her who exactly was your companion in a morning constitutional. Why, Darcy, I never knew you to be sly ... Oh, don't fume, I mean no harm! Everybody knows you and Miss Elizabeth are hardly friends, but time may come ... Ah well, are you going to have any breakfast, or not? I was just going to instruct the housemaid to bring Miss Elizabeth to breakfast room at her leisure. I am eager for news of Miss Bennet. Jones was with her first thing in the morning, you see..."
"Bingley, you are rather in good humour for a man with an ill guest under his roof," remarked Darcy, in hope to divert Bingley's attention to the Miss Bennet he was comfortable discussing.
"Ah, Darcy, we will get her back on her feet in no time. I am confident of it! Everything that could possibly assist her in her recovery, she will have. And now her sister is here, we must have her stay. That will give Miss Bennet great comfort. Go on, Darcy, breakfast!"
Oh, so she is to stay. Well, I do not see why not. It's up to Bingley, really. Miss Bingley, I am sure, will be thrilled... Boots, Darcy, boots!
"In a moment. I must change, I look positively wild. I shall join you presently."
Darcy hurried upstairs, taking two or three stairs at a time.
She did not wish to speak... What could I do? ... Naturally, she was worried about her sister. I should not have stared at her like that... But she did not see me, did she ... Still ... And Bingley, of course, he was only joking... No harm in escorting her back to the house - the only proper thing to do!
"Forsythe, I'm afraid I will be needing another pair of boots."
"Yes, sir. A nice walk, I trust?"
"Yes, I found the exercise, um ... very beneficial. Thank you."
Part IV(b) ~ Mr. Darcy is All Politeness Wednesday, 19 June 2002
In which Mr. Darcy has one very good idea and at least two cups of coffee, and turns his attention to an item of female costume.
When Darcy at last entered the Netherfield breakfast room in - alas! - impeccable attire, he was greeted by the ladies' exclamations.
"Mr. Darcy! I declare we have quite given up on you!"
If only you would!
"I am sorry I have deprived you of my company, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst. The weather was simply too fine to stay indoors any longer."
But when was the weather fine enough for you to actually leave the house on foot?
"Ooh, to be sure! Why don't we all go for a walk after you have had your breakfast?"
Miss Bingley's eyes shone at the possibility of walking by Mr. Darcy's side. She would prefer the event to take place in Bond Street, where somebody might actually see them together, but, well, who knew what the future held for her in that respect?
Her suggestion, however, was strongly disapproved of by her own sister and her husband.
"Are we going to have any damn sport in this god-forsaken place at all?" was Mr. Hurst's first statement after a muttered good morning, and his wife raised her voice to complain about 'the wretched mud everywhere'. Thus, the matter was settled, for Miss Bingley dreaded mud and its effects upon her costly apparel.
"I was just telling the ladies that they need not rely on your company alone, for we have had a most pleasant addition to our company since this morning."
Yes, they are clearly overjoyed.
"Indeed, brother, since very early morning, for I had only been downstairs but a short while when who burst in but Miss Eliza Bennet! What business has she scampering about the country when her sister is ill? And alone, too, and at such an ungodly hour! It is quite shocking. I am inclined to think, Mr. Darcy, you would not wish your sister to make such an exhibition."
Miss Bingley needed a companion in her indignation, and she aimed for the very best company there was to be had.
"No, certainly not..."
He stopped himself just in time. He was not going to gratify Caroline Bingley's wishes if he could help it.
Leave my sister out of this. Hers and Miss Bennet's circumstances are not to be compared. Besides, Georgiana is a child still.
Miss Bingley was already exchanging a meaningful glance across the table with her sister. Did she not say they were beginning to see eye to eye on everything that mattered?
But in courting Mr. Darcy's opinion, she inadvertently gave rise to her brother's determination to act as the elder Miss Bennets' champion.
"What can you mean by exhibition, Caroline? If anything, by coming here first thing in the morning Miss Elizabeth exhibited remarkable affection for her sister which only does her credit!"
Well put, Bingley. I could not have said it better myself.
Miss Bingley had always considered her brother's opinion to be of very little import, especially when Mr. Darcy was present. She hardly heard what he had said, and this made Darcy feel slightly sorry for his friend. At least he was not plagued by his immediate relations. He angrily sipped his coffee, with his back turned upon the company.
I can escape her, which is more I can say for Bingley. The peace in his home would only be forthcoming in the unlikely event of her marrying in the foreseeable future.
Bingley jumped up as soon as Elizabeth appeared in the doorway.
"Miss Bennet, good morning! I apologise for not receiving you properly just now, but from what I hear I gather you were well attended to by Darcy here. Pray, how is your sister? Is there anything we can do? What does Mr. Jones say?"
Everybody's attention was caught by Bingley's salutation. Miss Bingley was primarily interested precisely to what extent Mr. Darcy had attended to Elizabeth, Mrs. Hurst's mind was similarly occupied, although she felt an interest in dear Jane's well being, too. Mr. Hurst sensed another postponement of his long-anticipated amusement coming up. And Mr. Darcy...
...did not know where to turn.
Bingley! Do not go blabbering on like a fishmonger, for Heaven's sake!
To avoid everybody's eye in this most unfortunate situation, he bowed, his coffee cup still in hand. The clatter of the cup against the saucer echoed in the breakfast room. The noise made Darcy wince. He felt everybody's gaze burn against the nape of his neck.
Fortunately, Miss Bennet seemed not to take notice of his presence at all.
Humph! I am here, you know.
"Thank you, Mr. Bingley, for your kind concern. Mr. Jones is with my sister this very moment. He says she is still quite feverish, and that she cannot leave her room."
Bingley was struck by this report. It lulled his optimism of earlier on somewhat, but he hastened to reassure her,
"Miss Bennet, do not worry. I shall send for a physician directly. Jones is a good man, but your sister must receive every possible attention. I shall send for your clothes to Longbourn at once as well."
Elizabeth smiled at this attempt at an invitation, and thanked her host gratefully.
As on cue, Mr. Darcy placed the coffee cup that had much to learn on the subject of maintaining balance gracefully, on the breakfast table and joined Mr. Bingley and Elizabeth.
"If I may be of assistance... Dr Bridewell has looked after my family for years. Would you let me summon him, Miss Bennet?"
What did I say now?... Oh, all is well. She's smiling! I made her smile!
"Why, this is a capital idea, Darcy!"
Ah, yes. Indeed. Not bad. Do not go all Sir Lucas on me now, Bingley.
"I ... am exceedingly obliged, sir. However, I do not think that my sister's condition justifies bringing a doctor all the way from town. Mr. Jones, I am sure, is very capable. We would not wish to inconvenience you."
"It is no inconvenience, I assure you. We all wish for Miss Bennet to get well."
Darcy by now sounded quite at ease.
"Thank you. I believe my sister should be consulted first. Also, Mr. Jones has by now finished examining her. If you would excuse me..."
With a curtsey, Elizabeth Bennet left the room. Mr. Bingley followed her to speak to Mr. Jones.
"Louisa, did you see that? Really, she looked almost wild! Her hair!"
Miss Bingley lurched into a counter-attack. Her sister obligingly lent her a hand.
Here we go! HMS Caroline has loaded her cannons for the Bennet campaign.
Darcy resignedly moved towards the table in the corner and poured himself another cup of coffee.
I have a distinct impression I shall be needing it.
"And the petticoat, Caroline! I hope you saw her petticoat!"
Yes, let us touch upon all important points.
In all truth, Mr. Darcy had not, so far, given many thought to that particular item of female attire. Could one actually see a petticoat? Was it not its purpose not to be seen? Odd.
The petticoat puzzle presented him with a welcome diversion. It mystified him to such an extent that he glanced sideways at Miss Bingley, who was sitting very upright at the corner of the table, and let his look fall much lower than her face.
Is that a petticoat? - Decidedly not worth all the ado.
The moment he dismissed the vast importance of petticoats in the grand scheme of things, he was reminded that perhaps he would be inclined to harbour a different view all together regarding one of its kind belonging to Miss Bennet.
This conclusion drove him to apply himself to coffee pouring with newly found zest.
Miss Bingley's hand went in front of her mouth at the remembrance of the sight!
"Six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain! Mr. Darcy, you observed it, I'm sure."
"I must disappoint you. I was not paying particular attention to Miss Bennet's petticoat. I apologise for the omission. If you wish, I shall attempt to be more observant on this point."
He took a sip from his cup with true relish this time.
Miss Bingley's interest in Miss Eliza's petticoat and the presence of mire on it staggered rapidly. It took all her strength of will to single out the vital part of Mr. Darcy's statement, namely, his readiness to act in concordance with her wishes.
That was Encouragement! Thus Miss Bingley was not to be deterred: she proceeded to be scandalised by Miss Bennet's appearance, manners, and above all, her relations.
She could not rest before she fully briefed Mr. Darcy on Elizabeth's uncle Phillips being an attorney in that mud-infested locality that called itself Meryton, and her London uncle living somewhere near, if not actually in - Cheapside.
Try as she did, she was unable to provoke any response from Darcy, who remained in his place by the window, looking rather pensive and distant. Mr. Bingley returned to the room soon after, announcing jovially that Jones had supplied Miss Bennet with some draughts, which seemed to produce the effect desired. Therefore, there was no need to summon Dr Bridewell after all.
Mr. Darcy very properly expressed his delight, and the ladies professed themselves to be on the verge of absolute bliss at the news about their dearest friend. Mr. Hurst would gladly drink the patient's health, were there anything more substantial than tea or coffee to be had. But no one could match Mr. Bingley's elation, even if his sisters did make some feeble attempts at it.
There was no longer any excuse for the gentlemen to remain in the house, and they repaired outside to relieve some birds of their earthly suffering.
Part V(a) ~ Between Admiration and Doubt Thursday, 27 June 2002
The partridges and pheasants need not have feared for their lives that morning. They were in no great danger, least of all from Mr. Darcy, for he was finding it rather difficult to concentrate fully on this particular occasion.
The lowliness of her connections is no news to me. Her uncle in trade! This must materially affect her chance of marrying anyone of consideration in the world ... But ... How does that concern me? It's Bingley I care for, and his increasing attachment to Miss Bennet.
Mr. Bingley's mind, on the other hand, was far from troubled. He was on top form.
"Darcy, I say, very handsome of you - Uh! Missed that one! - ... to offer to send for Doctor Bridewell. But - By Jove, got it now! - Miss Bennet is not seriously ill after all, and I am very relieved to hear it! And, to tell you the truth - Fetch, Titus! - I am very pleased by Miss Elizabeth staying here. She will make sure that her sister does not dwell unnecessarily on the state of her health... Blast! Thought I was in there! ... It is nice to have an addition to the party. Do not get me wrong, Darcy. Only ...You're not the most talkative of people ... - Yes! Yes! - Erm, you know. Miss Eliza is a more lively sort of a person, isn't she?"
Darcy's muttered response was lost in midst of Bingley's victorious exclamations.
With the master of the house out of the way - Bingley was shut up in the library with his butler, presumably attending to the business which had been neglected since the morning of the previous day - he hoped to find some solitude in the billiard room. The precision required by that game appealed to Darcy. He knew he would not be able to indulge in any unsettling absence of mind that seemed to prevent him from having much sport in the morning.
Blast, I can't breathe in here ... I shall get rid of this thing, shall I? I'm safe.
Having laid his tailcoat on the chair next to the wall, Darcy aimed the cue carefully at the set of billiard balls before him. After a few minutes' swift movements around the table, he was absorbed by the game and rendered thoroughly oblivious of his surroundings. All he heard was the sound of the balls rolling over the green surface and their tumbling down the pockets.
This changed, as Darcy suddenly became aware of the rapidly approaching steps in the corridor. He straightened himself up, ready to encounter one of the servants.
Bingley is puzzled by his solicitor's letter again, I suppose ... Or better still, the solicitor was completely bewildered by the assortment of blotches and smears he had received from an unidentified client residing at a place called Nettlerash Dark ... I'd better get the coat then.
He was too late. Whoever had been walking the corridor had just appeared in the doorway. The person wore no livery, though, but a becoming white dress.
Darcy clutched at his cue for dear life. He would have much rather clutched the coat, and made himself presentable, or perhaps, he would not have minded to explore the petticoat issue further either. As it was, the billiard cue involuntarily acted as the rightful representative of anything clutchable, and was on the verge of being splintered.
What is -? - Say something, do something!! Stop staring, for one. Bow, man, bow! - Lord, you're not leaving, are you?
Without a word, and with merely a slight nod by way of recognition of the gentleman's presence, Miss Bennet was out of the room as unexpectedly as she appeared.
I suppose a game of billiards is out of the question?
Whereupon Mr. Darcy shamelessly used the cue in a most inappropriate and slightly painful manner against his troubled forehead.
Congratulations. Your descendants will be able to find the family name recorded in the Britannica after all. Darcy, conversational gambit a la. Schoolboy nonsense.
Angrily, he aimed at the red ball and struck. It was an accurate shot, executed with deadly precision. Behind it lay all his bewilderment with himself, the woman who inspired such an array of conflicting feelings in him, and their respective behaviour.
A good quarter of an hour later he was summoned to dinner. The meal proved as trying as he predicted, for Miss Bingley, having expressed her earnest desire for her ill friend's recovery, had little to say to anyone but him. A variety of subjects were introduced, ranging from Mr. Darcy's favourite dish...
"Pray, Mr. Darcy, why so secretive? Our cook is nothing compared to Gérard, of that I am well aware, yet she would, I am sure, do her best, if you would but..."
Well, I have never ... - One more spoonful for Caroline, Fitzwilliam, there's a good boy! And where did you find out the name of my cook? I swear the woman has spies in my kitchen!
...to his younger sister.
"How is dear Georgiana, Mr. Darcy? I have not seen her for ages, I declare I miss her tremendously. Such a countenance! Such manners! And so remarkably accomplished for her age! Her pianoforte playing is exquisite! I am delighted that our former master was available after all! - Has she grown much since the spring? Is she as tall as I?"
"She's by now Miss Elizabeth's size."
There, that will at least make you pause for breath, if nothing else.
His words, however, had another, a more unnerving effect. Elizabeth paused in her discussion with Mr. Bingley, and gave the man who was indirectly commenting on her figure, a look.
It only lasted a moment, but it was enough. He remembered the first occasion of his pronouncing judgment on her appearance. Darcy focused his gaze upon his plate and eagerly devoted himself to the food that had found its way there - somehow. His palate hardly distinguished any taste at all.
His trials were by no means over. Miss Bingley showered him with compliments concerning his estate in Derbyshire. Without the smallest provocation, or indeed, almost any kind of response from the object of her fondest wishes but a half-hearted nod or two, she praised everything from the gentleman's gardens to his music room.
Mr. Darcy's situation was indeed pitiable. On his left, one lady's look was resting on his every move, and on his right, another lady's attention was completely engrossed by his best friend.
I do believe if I were to choose between you and Mrs. Bennet as my neighbour at the dinner table, I would not hesitate for a moment. Her I can at least glare into silence. Oh be gone already, and let me have a few minutes' peace! I cannot hear a word they are saying.
Mrs. Hurst, clearly seeing that Mr. Darcy was at that particular moment in no mood to give consequence to young ladies fascinated by his Derbyshire estate - a conclusion perhaps originating in observing the very same gentlemen sigh deeply and roll his eyes slightly on more than one occasion, a symptom she was less inclined to attribute to the promising eruptions of delicate sensibility than the hostess - gave her sister a diplomatic hint.
"Caroline dear, shall we...?"
Although unwillingly, Miss Bingley retreated from the battlefield, presuming, as always, to be approaching her long-awaited triumph. Her sister and Miss Bennet followed, and the gentlemen were left to themselves.
They were to be separated from the ladies for at least half an hour, or until Mr. Hurst were to fall into a drunken stupor, whichever of the two would happen to occur first.
As soon as the door closed on the female part of the Netherfield party, Mr. Darcy sharply drew in breath and pushed back his chair.
"Darcy, I am truly sorry. I take it Caroline did not spare you during dinner. I wish I could do something to ... But I had a most enjoyable time conversing with Miss Elizabeth! She is indeed lovely, almost as lovely as ... Oh, did you know that Miss Bennet is an excellent horsewoman? Miss Elizabeth told me her sister had been riding since she was but ten! I told her you rode almost before you talked ... She thought that remarkably entertaining, for some reason. Oh, my dear fellow, if Caroline gets too much for you, let me know and I will see..."
Never mind Caroline. What was that about remarkably entertaining?
"I am well used to not listening to your sister by now. I was not aware, however, that I was also the topic of your conversation, Bingley."
All right, what exactly did you say? What did she say?
But his friend was not to be fooled for an instant. Bingley's eyes sparkled as he replied,
"Actually, Darcy, Miss Elizabeth and myself have discovered we have many things in common."
Blast! I am not saying another word. There!
"Why, you are growing quite a favourite with the Bennet ladies. Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth ... Miss Mary is next, I suppose. And the happy moment when," Darcy turned his eyes to the ceiling and sighed dramatically, "you secure the affections of Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia!"
Bingley turned a deaf ear to his friend's attempts at a diversion. He continued,
"Yes, now, let me see: we both have friends or relatives who possess superior riding skills. We both enjoy dancing tremendously. A fondness for living in the country is another matter where Miss Elizabeth and I see eye to eye. And, last but not the least - "
Yes, yes, Mr. I-Know-What-Ladies-Like Bingley...
"-we are unanimous in our opinion of you. Now there, ready to join the ladies? I certainly am, and Mr. Hurst is certainly not. Feel free to follow at any time, Darcy."
Part V(b) ~ Between Admiration and Doubt Posted on Wednesday, 31 July 2002
His thoughts darted from one premise to another, yet a satisfactory conclusion eluded him.
Bingley crows as if he had outwitted the fox. For once, I have a feeling that ignorance may indeed prove to be bliss. She either thinks me a brute or a fool, and very likely both. What Bingley thinks by his nose-poking-out-of-the nursery behaviour, I really don't know. D- him! And d- my wretched tongue!
Darcy walked towards the window and in sheer exasperation hit the frame hard with both fists. The thump thus produced did not contribute considerably to his ease of mind, but it did prove instrumental in arousing Mr. Hurst.
"What...? Give me a weapon, Darcy! They are outside! Where's Bingley? Let us send for militia, quick! We cannot fight them all on our own!"
It took Darcy several minutes to convince Hurst they were in fact not invaded by the French. As to the origin of the sound which still resounded in Mr. Hurst's intoxicated head, he did not venture any explanation. Not completely satisfied by Darcy's assurances and hesitant to believe he was in no immediate danger from anybody or anything else than his own unsteady feet, Mr. Hurst set about joining the ladies with uncharacteristic zeal.
Mr. Darcy was not quite disposed to face the party yet. Miss Bingley's attentions, unwelcome as they were, were nothing compared to Miss Bennet's... Miss Bennet's... Well, lack of them, concluded Darcy much to his discomfort.
There is but little doubt that she feels something akin to repulsion towards me, and if I all of a sudden waylay her with a shower of questions, I might even have the pleasure of hearing of it with my own two ears.
Mr. Darcy shuddered at the thought. He wished that the earth had opened under his feet instead of just demonstrating the intention of doing so, at dinner.
The complete unreliability of the elements thus established, Mr. Darcy lingered on.
I'd much better keep quiet about it; assuredly, Bingley will let it slip what he meant by that remark...
'...we are unanimous in our opinion of you.'
Oh bother! Couldn't I just go and drag him back in here by the collar?
"Oh, Mr. Darcy, come and advise me! Mr. Hurst carries us all before him!"
Indeed, Mr. Hurst had made a remarkable recovery and was now apparently the holy terror of the card table, at which he, Miss Bingley and her two siblings were seated. There was no one else in the room.
Just as well.
Darcy was nevertheless slightly discontented that all the building-up of his defenses had been for naught. He was determined not to let it show, however, and with his back towards the card players - to whom he offered no advice or support and only the slightest acknowledgement - he reached for the stationery and hastily put the pen to paper.
Netherfield, Hertfordshire, November 14, 1811My dear Georgiana,
I apologise for not having written sooner. Thank you for your last - I am very glad to hear you get along so well with Mrs. Annesley.You speak of your lessons - I will spare you the geography examination this time, if you in turn promise you will play for me as long as I should require. If you should cry, Blackmail!, I shall only remind you of the rivers of Russia, and trust your good judgment.
I do not for a moment believe Mr.- exaggerates in his praise. I rely on his opinion completely, and attribute your repeated denials to modesty, which is only to your credit. Insufficient credit to excuse you from giving a private concert though - every resistance is futile in this matter.
Unfortunately, I cannot say at present when this much looked-forward-to musical evening shall take place. Mr. Bingley has only just settled in at Netherfield Park, and we have been much preoccupied by getting acquainted with the local families. They are, as might be anticipated, a rather less polished society than we are used to, yet among them there are also-
The door opened gently and admitted Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She was immediately greeted warmly by the Bingleys and called upon to join them at cards. She declined and sat down with a book opposite to where Darcy was sitting.
Darcy struggled to keep his mind on the letter to his sister. Words did appear on paper with astonishing regularity nevertheless, forming sentences and paragraphs without much conscious participation on the part of the correspondent.
Half a page later, Darcy abruptly threw all his resolutions aside and ventured in what he believed to be a perfectly calm tone,
"May I inquire about your sister, Miss Bennet?"
Ah yes, The Mute speaks. You may well be astonished. A whole sentence and not a word of it offensive!Elizabeth Bennet did, in truth, look slightly surprised by being addressed thus; her forehead wrinkled - in no manner unbecomingly - as she replied,
"I thank you ... I believe she is a little better."
What, what? Have I got ink on my nose?The well of Mr. Darcy's creative imagination seemed to have been significantly drained first by the brotherly missive and then by his inquiry into Miss Bennet's health. So it was not wholly surprising to see him bewildered as to why Miss Elizabeth's glance should still rest upon his countenance.
She is hardly waiting for another rhetorical coup. Much more likely she is disposed to administer the coup de grâce. After all, it might take hours. Of course she is not waiting for you to open your mouth again. But why should she not be? Well, apart from the obvious reason - very little likelihood of it happening ... others have done so before her! With an astonishing degree of success, yes.
Mr. Darcy persisted to maintain eye contact with Miss Bennet for a few seconds longer, then turned in his chair abruptly and again took hold of the pen.
"You prefer reading to cards? Singular!"
Mr. Hurst's observation provided Miss Bingley with the perfect opportunity to tackle the new arrival. Miss Eliza Bennet was thus pronounced 'a great reader who took delight in nothing else'. Miss Bingley would do better to steer clear of the subject all together, but when was wisdom found at the bottom of despair? Her object was to make Mr. Darcy forget the letter, and in this, she did succeed. His attention was secured even before the great reader began to denounce the praise bestown upon her.
"I am not a great reader and take delight in many things."
Such as making fool of everyone in sight.
He could not take his eyes off her as for once, he was safe from her look. She had closed her book and her attention was directed towards the card table. Miss Bingley, however, lurched into a frontal attack just then.
"And what are you doing so secretly, sir?"`
That took Darcy rather by surprise, and he hurriedly set to his task again, very nearly splitting the point of his pen as he pressed it upon the paper.
"It is no secret. I am writing to my sister," he said calmly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Miss Bennet was still neglecting her book, and was listening attentively to their exchange.
Miss Bingley was delighted - everyone should be aware of the degree of the intimacy between the two families.
"Dear Georgiana! Please do tell her I simply long to see her! I have never seen a young lady so accomplished at her age, have you?"
Mrs. Hurst shook her head vehemently in response. Mr. Hurst grunted as this emotional gesture sent two of his wife's hand straight into Mr. Bingley's lap. Mr. Bingley cheerfully restored them without taking any notice of his sister's words.
Miss Bingley breathed in sharply and called upon him to perform his brotherly duty,
"Chaarles! Georgiana!"
Mr. Bingley registered from his sister's tone that something was expected of him, and his first reaction was to jump up from his chair fully convinced that his house party had increased whilst he had not been paying attention. Establishing this was not the case - for look as he may, there was no sign of Miss Darcy - he sat down again, directing his confusion towards Miss Bingley who had been responsible for it.
And surely enough, there came his cue.
"Isn't she accomplished?"
Mr. Bingley could almost be heard breathe a sigh of relief. Now he knew what was required of him, he could and did oblige with a proper accolade. And he did not stop there. He happily expressed his amazement at the degree of accomplishment of all young ladies; they painted tables, covered screens, played, drew, spoke French and German, and Lord knows what else!
"All young ladies accomplished! Charles! How can you say such a thing?"
Miss Bingley was not interested in all young ladies. All young ladies were not sisters of the man she should and would marry! All young ladies may as well incorporate Miss Bennet, and that was to be avoided at all cost.
But Miss Bingley needed not worry. Mr. Darcy was hardly any more disposed to class his sister with the rest of the young ladies. Also, eyeing the young lady immediately before him, he would be willing to bet every guinea he possessed that she did not have much in common with young ladies in general. Nevertheless, he felt obliged to assure his friend that he himself did not know more than half a dozen accomplished females.
Miss Bingley naturally agreed, whilst secretly counting the potential candidates on the fingers of her disengaged hand, now safely disposed in her lap under the card table. Who were the remaining three women? Moreover, were they ordered randomly, or did additional criteria apply to establish some sort of ranking?
Utterly unable to procure this information, she satisfied herself with an attempt at a definition of a truly accomplished woman for the benefit of those less fortunate young ladies who could only aspire to the ideal.
Her contentment was somewhat diminished by the fact that Miss Eliza Bennet, herself one of the less fortunate, claimed that she had never seen such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance, united.
Miss Bingley wondered whether the impertinent girl had not eyes.
"To all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading."
Miss Bingley stared at him over her hand.
This was pretty straightforward, Darcy. Little short of throwing yourself at her feet and cherishing the hem of her petticoat. Well, it is never too late. You may still fling yourself after her and seize it with your pale and sensitive fingers, thereby promoting your melancholy passion to a level Mrs. Radcliffe would be jealous of. Idiotic does not begin to describe it.
Having closed the book a while ago, Miss Bennet now discarded it on the small table by the sofa.
"If that is your idea of an accomplished woman, Mr. Darcy, I am no longer surprised that you with your superior knowledge of the world should know only six accomplished women. I am rather astonished that you should know any."
Miss Bennet excused herself and went upstairs to keep company to her sister. As soon as the door closed on her, Miss Bingley accused her opinions of being nothing but 'a very mean art' to court the opinions of the gentlemen.
Enter Caroline Bingley and the art of the logical somersault; which part of my opinion is she courting by challenging it for what it's worth? Well, my perfectly timed comment just now effectively puts me in no position to argue. ... Never had the word 'superior' had so much ring of 'inferior' about it... I'd be willing to listen to more disparaging comments if they were delivered with that amused expression. It is comforting to know I need not try to make a complete fool of myself. I am a natural at it, it seems.
Since Mr. Darcy could not object openly to Miss Bingley - the lady, after all, is never in the wrong, and a red rag should not be waved in front of the bull - he ensured she did not retreat brandishing the colours of victory by remarking casually that there was meanness in every kind of art employed for captivation.
This effectively brought the subject to a close.