Section I, Next Section
Posted on Tuesday, 18 July 2006
The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered by receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a ceremonious card; Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the society of her two friends, and the attentions of their brother; and Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr. Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of every thing in Mr. Darcy's looks and behaviour. The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia, depended less on any single event, or any particular person, for though they each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. Wickham, he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and a ball was at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could assure her family that she had no disinclination for it...
Elizabeth's spirits were so high on the occasion that-instead of initiating a conversation with Mr. Collins that may have garnered her an unwelcome invitation to dance at the ball-she invited her sisters to shop with her in Meryton. Kitty and Lydia accepted with alacrity. Jane and Mary both had items to finish before the ball; Jane, her new gown; Mary, her latest concerto.
"You must thank your aunt for me, Miss Elizabeth. I thoroughly enjoyed being included in her card party last evening," said Mr. Wickham. "I must say I am quite pleasantly surprised to see you in Meryton again so soon."
"It is not uncommon for us to walk to Meryton rather frequently, Mr. Wickham," replied Elizabeth with a warm smile. The intimate conversation they had shared last night at Mr. Darcy's expense had only confirmed her original good opinion of the lieutenant. "And today Longbourn seemed particularly crowded. We have a guest. I believe you met him last night?"
"Ah, yes, the Reverend Mr. Collins. Indeed, it seems as though our small hamlet has been deluged by a surfeit of clerics," said Mr. Wickham with a grin. "Of course, had I been granted the living that was owed, their numbers would have been even greater. But then, I suppose, I would have no reason to be in Hertfordshire at all. No, I see I must count my blessings that Darcy was so unjust, or I might never have met you, Miss Elizabeth."
Wickham's attempt at flirtation was overshadowed slightly by Elizabeth's confusion. "Surfeit of clerics? I know Mr. Collins has a rather, er, strong presence, but I would hardly call us overrun by him. And we are quite used to the retiring ways of our own excellent Mr. Hammond," replied Elizabeth.
"Ah, then you have not heard. I am not one to carry tales, of course, but in this case my intelligence of the matter is quite reliable. The man whose own installation at Kympton parish overthrew all my hopes for an independent future has just arrived here in Hertfordshire. His surname, at least, will be familiar to you. Bingley, he is called, Mr. Henry Bingley. And I saw him myself in Meryton just this morning."
"Bingley!" cried Elizabeth. "Is he at all related to our Mr. Bing-I mean to say-the Bingleys of Netherfield Hall?"
"Miss Elizabeth, you cannot believe me to be that naïve. Surely with the frequent intercourse between Netherfield and Longbourn, you cannot be ignorant of the existence of another Bingley sibling? He is not just a sibling but, indeed, a twin to Mr. Charles Bingley. Your sister, at least, must know of the man."
"A twin. Henry. And he's here, in Hertfordshire?"
"Yes, rumour has it that he has come for the Netherfield Ball and to spend a fortnight here before returning to his Christmastide duties at Kympton. But, of course, where Darcy is, Henry Bingley is often not far behind. So, the duration of his stay is perhaps a bit shy of the mark."
"Where Mr. Darcy is...? Mr. Wickham, I am sorry to be so obtuse, but surely you mean Mr. Bingley and not Mr. Darcy. What has Mr. Darcy to do with Henry Bingley?"
"Nothing but the fact that Darcy chose Bingley over me for the living at Kympton in direct contravention of his father's will, simply to provide his crony with a more substantial living than his original curacy could tender. And, of course, the fact that Henry Bingley, like his brother and sisters, believes that Fitzwilliam Darcy can do no wrong."
At this crucial juncture, their tête-à-tête was interrupted by the return of the two youngest Bennet sisters, noisily demanding that Lizzy and Mr. Wickham approve their choice of ribbons and shoe roses for the Netherfield ball.
And, as she walked home ahead of her prattling siblings, she thought about how fine Mr. Wickham looked this morning, how she hoped he would be at the ball, and how odd it was that Jane had never mentioned Mr. Bingley's twin!
"How very odd, Lizzy, that I had never mentioned Mr. Bingley's twin! Of course I knew of his existence. How could I not?" replied Jane when confronted with this tasty morsel of gossip. "Mr. Bingley told me just last week that he was hoping his brother could come, but that it was not at all a fixed engagement. I understand that Mr. Henry Bingley is very conscientious of his duties to the people of his parish. Mr. Bingley mentioned he might not want to leave them during Advent."
"Well, it is the least he can do to take care of his own, if misbegotten, flock! It will be hard to forgive Mr. Henry Bingley for aiding Mr. Darcy in his shabby treatment of Mr. Wickham. Though for your sake, dear Jane, I will try to get along with my future brother!" laughed Elizabeth.
"Lizzy! Please do not say such things. You know that Mr. Bingley and I have no formal understanding. He has made no declaration and unless he does..."
"Until he does."
"Unless he does, I cannot be easy with that kind of talk. Someone might overhear and presume too much."
"All right, dearest, do not fret. I shall not twit you about your Mr. Bingley anymore, at least until I have met this mysterious clerical brother of his. I cannot believe such a juicy piece of information had not made the rounds of Meryton long ago!"
"I wonder at that myself, for Mr. Bingley..."
"You mean your Mr. Bingley or the new Mr. Bingley?"
"Mr. Charles Bingley has certainly made no secret of it with me."
"Yes, but recently Mr. Charles Bingley has been far less open with the rest of Meryton because he spends most of his time gazing at you. Or, perhaps his sisters have such a strong presence that the possibility of another Bingley sibling has simply never been contemplated! Pray tell me, are there any more Bingleys that may climb out of the woodwork at the Netherfield Ball?"
"There are some cousins in Scarborough, but I do not believe there to be any more siblings."
"And what is he like, this position-poaching parson?"
"Lizzy, we do not know the particulars of that situation. Please leave yourself open to at least the possibility that Mr. Henry Bingley is as amiable as his brother."
"And is he?"
"I am as unacquainted with him as you are-as you well know, so we shall both just have to wait and see."
"You will just have to wait and see," chided Netherfield's master.
"Charles, I don't see why a little rain should prevent us from paying a call. I didn't come all the way from Derbyshire to dance a few country dances. I came to meet your Miss Bennet, and that is what I plan to do this very day," replied the twenty-minutes-younger Mr. Bingley.
"My Miss Bennet. How well that sounds. Alas, she is not yet my Miss Bennet, and as such Darcy thinks it would be most improper to pay a call so soon before the ball. Singling her out in such a manner will lead to talk and raised expectations. Or so I've been told," sighed Charles.
"Ah, yes, the advice of your friend, the ever-helpful Fitzwilliam Darcy," replied Henry with a touch of exasperation.
"Don't speak of him that way. You know what help he has been to me since Father died-why would I not seek his counsel? And you owe him your very living."
"I do, and I am grateful. But I like to think that I got my preferment to Kympton because I am the best man for the job, and not because I am your brother and Darcy is your friend."
"It is not called a preferment for nothing, Henry. Don't be naïve!"
"I'm not. Just idealistic, I suppose. But all this is beside the point. I respect Darcy and much of his advice. I even like the man. But that doesn't mean I think you ought to bow to every one of his decrees. Think for yourself, man! Do you want to introduce me to Miss Bennet in a private setting with ample opportunity for substantive conversation? Or, do you want to introduce me in a ball room over warm punch and before all of Meryton?"
"Well, when you put it that way, I suppose I must bow to your decree and take you to Longbourn directly!" laughed Charles. "Oh, Henry, you will love her. She is a jewel, an angel!"
"Yes, I believe you wrote something to that effect, though it was barely legible. How we originated in the same womb, I'll never understand. Nor how you managed to graduate from Cambridge with such a poor hand. Did your tutors never require written work?" teased Henry.
"Henry, please. I will take you to meet Miss Jane Bennet directly if only you will promise to desist from your mockery the entire time we are there. I don't want you to frighten her off with tales from the nursery or from Cambridge, for that matter!"
"Let us depart, then, before Darcy emerges from the study and you get persuaded to stay."
"Or before Caroline arises and adds her tuppence," lamented Charles. "You can't imagine how difficult it has been to stand against our sisters in this. They claimed friendship for Miss Bennet-and I believed them to be sincere-until the first signs that I was seriously attached. Now, they are pleasant to her face, but spend much of the rest of the time trying to convince me of the evils of the match."
"I am only surprised, my dear brother, that you are surprised. Hypocrisy and insincerity are two of the most common failings of the rich. My parishioners have their vices, but they are so different from those of my own class and family that I find them almost refreshing," said Henry.
"Well, I am glad they could spare you, for truly I cannot. I need your support, which I hope you will grant once you meet..."
"Your angel. Miss Bennet. I know. Get your greatcoat on and let's go! I called for the carriage a half an hour ago and this rain will only get worse."
Suggested blurb: When Mr. Bingley invites his twin brother, the vicar of Kympton, to the Netherfield Ball, things become much simpler for our heroes. Or not.
Posted on Saturday, 22 July 2006
The rain was getting worse, and Lizzy was thankful she had gone into Meryton yesterday since a walk would certainly be forbidden today.
In such weather the Bennet household was not expecting visitors. Mr. Collins had retired upstairs to his chamber to lie down after eating an uncomfortable amount at breakfast, and the ladies were taking advantage of his absence to do various ball-preparation tasks in the sitting room. Jane, however, happened to be in the still room decocting something special to wear to the Netherfield Ball.
Kitty had no occupation at all but was instead gazing out the window, wishing the rain would stop, when she suddenly called out, "Mama, the Bingleys' carriage is coming up our lane! Do you think they mean to stop and call in this horrid weather?"
One can imagine the effect that these few words had on the Bennet ladies. Books were slammed shut, needlework thrust into baskets, aprons removed, hair smoothed, cheeks pinched: the entirety was accomplished in moments despite the distraction of the high-pitched stream of directives emanating from their mother hen.
At last, the scene calmed but just before Hill entered the room, Mrs. Bennet became aware that Jane, the object of the presumed visit, was nowhere to be found. As Mary was least likely to be wanted by any of the Bingleys, Mrs. Bennet fairly shoved her from the room with the whispered admonishment to 'fetch Jane from the still room and be quick about it'. The door closed on Mary just as the opposite door opened, and Hill announced not only the expected "Mr. Bingley" but an additional "Mr. Henry Bingley" as well.
Only Elizabeth remained composed. The shock of a second Bingley, with who knows how much a year, was too much for the rest of the group. Their gasps and whispers and looks of shock or delight would have been funny to Elizabeth had she been able to attend to them. But she could not. Her curiosity about Jane's future brother was too great, and she assessed Henry Bingley's vaguely familiar countenance with a frank but wary gaze.
In the meantime, Mr. Bingley was glancing about the room, presumably looking for Jane. Disappointed at not finding her there, his brother's gentle clearing of his throat helped recall him to his task-introductions. "Mrs. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Miss Kitty Bennet, and Miss Lydia Bennet, may I introduce my brother, Mr. Henry Bingley? Henry is the rector of Kympton parish in Derbyshire and he is visiting for a few days. I hope we are not intruding, but I was so eager to have him meet ... you ... all ... that, well, we could not let this weather keep us away," he finished with an abashed grin, sure that everyone knew to whom this honour was really owed.
With a gracious curtsey at Henry and a big smile for Charles, Mrs. Bennet addressed the latter. "Mr. Bingley, you know we do not stand on such formalities with friends such as yourself. We are delighted that you have come and brought your brother to meet us. You must be terribly chilled. I shall call for tea directly. Do sit down," she directed, motioning them to a rather far-away spot. The location just happened to be the only one that would allow them to sit near Jane, whom she was expecting at any moment.
Kitty and Lydia, though disappointed by the news that Mr. Henry Bingley was no more than a clergyman, were bored from days of dreary weather and curious about the ball. They peppered its host with numerous questions about the guest list and other minutiae.
As sorry as Elizabeth was to see Mr. Bingley so treated, this gave her the opportunity to address herself to the so-far silent Henry Bingley. She was eager to see what this gentleman had to say for himself. "Mr. Bingley, I understand Derbyshire to be very beautiful country."
"Yes, it is. I daresay Mr. Darcy has waxed poetic about it. He is very fond of the place from whence he hails," Henry rejoined.
"That may be, though I have certainly never heard Mr. Darcy 'wax poetic' about anything, even Derbyshire. However, I have heard Derbyshire praised from entirely different sources, both rather poetic. My aunt, you see, spent all her girlhood in Lambton, and she cannot say enough of its beauties. Moreover, we have recently made a new acquaintance who spent all his life at Pemberley." Elizabeth waited to see his reaction to the name she was about to spring.
"Someone other than Darcy?"
"Oh yes, someone rather different from Mr. Darcy, his father's protégé, Mr. George Wickham."
"Ahhh, Wickham. My brother mentioned he was in town. I shall have to thank Mr. Wickham if I come across him. You may not realise this, but when Wickham rejected the church as a possible occupation, it made the way clear for me to become Kympton's rector and saved me from years more work as a lowly curate at Pemberley!" laughed Henry, unaware of the implications of his light-hearted banter.
Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief. Her outrage at the injustice done to Mr. Wickham made her forget, momentarily, the norms of civility towards a guest, not to mention a new acquaintance. "Mr. Bingley, I was afraid you would be more like your esteemed patron than like your amiable brother, and you have just confirmed it. I had hoped that you would have at least a little compassion for Mr. Wickham's present state of relative poverty. Yet there you stand callously laughing at having stolen his rightful place. Well, at least I can see the resemblance to some members of your family, though perhaps not to your twin!"
Just as Lizzy and Henry's conversation was beginning to be noticed by the others in the room, the door opened and in walked Jane Bennet, followed by Mary.
The two Mr. Bingleys nearly leapt to their feet, Charles introducing Jane and Henry to each other with obvious pride. He nearly forgot to introduce Mary but was again recalled to his task by his brother's helpful throat clearing. There were a few moments of pleasantries exchanged after which Jane seated herself in the preordained location. This allowed a closer discourse between her and Charles and gave Henry a chance to address Lizzy briefly. "Miss Elizabeth, I can only apologise for what must have seemed unchristian behaviour and beg you to give me leave to explain myself more fully at a later time. I assure you that nothing was taken that had not first been given up. I hope you will understand me when I say that perhaps now is not the best time to go into further details, especially since I had hoped to speak more than a sentence to your sister."
His apologetic tone and obvious desire to make Jane's acquaintance assuaged Elizabeth's indignation slightly. "I apologise, sir, for the harshness of my tone. Although you have piqued my curiosity severely, I can understand your desire for conversation with Jane. She is the most delightful of the Bennet sisters, after all."
"A veritable angel, from what I have heard."
Shocked but pleased at such a personal revelation from Mr. Bingley's twin, Elizabeth was about to respond when her mother called her over to serve tea. Jane, it seemed, was needed right where she was-though nobody spoke this out loud, much to Lizzy's relief.
The visit proceeded apace, without any chance for Henry to approach Elizabeth again. He was not too bothered by this and, knowing more of the matter than she, could leave the topic with relative unconcern. She, however, was less sanguine and vacillated between joy at Mr. Bingley's increasing attachment to Jane and vexation at his brother's callous and confusing statements with regard to her favourite.
As the men prepared, reluctantly, to quit Longbourn, Mr. Bingley had the presence of mind to secure the first two dances from Jane. No one could have been more surprised than Elizabeth, however, when Henry Bingley asked for the same honour of herself. Unwilling to forgo the pleasure of dancing at the ball by refusing him, Elizabeth could not but accept. However eagerly she looked forward to canvassing the subject of Mr. Wickham more completely with him, the prospect of opening the ball with him did little to bring her joy. In fact, she was left in a state of great perturbation of spirit.
Thankfully for Mr. Henry Bingley, he was perfectly ignorant of this agitation. His mind was much more agreeably engaged-dwelling instead on the pleasure which a pair of fine, fiery eyes in the face of a handsome, spirited woman could bestow.
He was not able to dwell for long.
"Well, man, don't leave me in suspense! What did you think?"
Henry laughed at his brother's eagerness; the horses had barely begun the three-mile trot back to Netherfield. "Do you really need my input?"
"Of course I do, Hal. You are my brother, but you are also my oldest friend. I trust your opinion, even beyond Darcy's ... and certainly beyond Caroline's or Louisa's. If you agree with their estimation, I will be forced to reconsider a formal courtship."
"It seemed to me that formal or informal, a courtship is already taking place. But, if you love her as much as you say, I see no problem with that."
"But what did you think of her?" pled Charles.
"It is what you think of her that matters most. But, as you are so desperate to hear her praised, I will admit that she's everything amiable and pleasing, not to mention more beautiful than you deserve. I found no fault in her, other than an overly reserved nature that would not suit me at all. But, though we are twins, we are far from identical, so this should not matter if you really like her. Her family is a bit countrified and unpolished, but I saw no real harm in them. Yet, if her portion is as small as you suppose, you could certainly do better from a material perspective."
"But..."
"But, you could also do far worse from the perspective of character and comportment, which are-in reality-far more important."
"And I love her."
"And you love her. So why did you drag me all the way down from Derbyshire to tell you what you already knew? Ask her father for permission to court her if you think it necessary; ask for her hand if you don't. But unless you are ready to do either of these, take a clear step backwards so you don't open her up to speculation and derision. She is too fine a woman for that."
"How did you get so wise?" Charles asked his younger brother.
"I am a man of the cloth," replied Henry, imitating Mr. Collins, who had appeared just before they departed. "Don't you know that we are endowed by God and our beneficent patrons with more wisdom than mere mortals?"
"Ahh, yes, I had forgotten that. Have you forgotten that I know you are not a self-important prig? Good try, though!" Charles laughed, relieved to have his biggest worries put to rest and pleased to have his wise but funny brother here as he made one of the most important decisions of his life.
Just before exiting the carriage, Charles was surprised to hear Henry ask, "So, what can you tell me about Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"
Posted on Saturday, 22 July 2006
Miss Elizabeth Bennet was a woman not best pleased. First, she had had to accept a request to dance from a man she was determined to think ill of, and now she was occupied in trying to avoid accepting an identical request from a man she already thought ill of.
"Mr. Collins, I am sorry to tell you that I have already accepted Mr. Bingley as a partner for the first two dances at the Netherfield Ball."
"I had assumed he would be dancing with your sister."
"My sister? Why should he want to dance with Kitty or Lydia? You don't mean Mary?"
"Your elder sister."
"Oh, I am sorry for the confusion. It is Mr. Henry Bingley, whom you met this morning, who asked me to dance."
"Ah, yes, a cleric like myself."
"Quite unlike yourself, I am sure, Mr. Collins. With a noble patroness like yours, I am surprised that you think it quite proper for a man in your position to attend the ball at all, much less to dance," Elizabeth replied, hoping this would excuse her from accepting the proffered dance.
"I am by no means of the opinion, I assure you," rejoined Mr. Collins, "that a ball of this kind, given by a young man of character-whose own brother is a man of the cloth-to respectable people, can have any evil tendency. And, I am so far from objecting to dancing myself, that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins in the course of the evening. I am grieved, of course, to have lost the privilege of dancing the first two with you. However, I am hopeful that you will not object to dancing the second two with me.
"In fact," he said with what could only be termed a titter, "I will sit out the first two dances in expectation of our dances together, a preference which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right cause, and not to any disrespect for her. Would you do me the very great honour of dancing the second two with me, Cousin Elizabeth?"
Again, there was nothing to be done but accept. As soon as Elizabeth was free of Mr. Collins' increasingly attentive company, however, she took a long walk in the garden and lamented the conventions that limited a woman's choice in such matters.
I am completely at the mercy of any man who asks to partner me at the ball, unless I want to sit out the rest of the evening or break the basic rules of courtesy and be branded a hoyden. I am now engaged for an entire hour with men that I would much rather never see again, and I have little chance of securing a dance with Wickham until the ball itself, by which time I may have been secured by every other man of my acquaintance. Insufferable! thought Elizabeth as she stomped through the garden, releasing her frustration in her favourite manner.
And, what is more insufferable are Mr. Collins' not-so-subtle hints about his intentions toward me. What am I to do? Is there any way I can dissuade him before he actually declares himself? I cannot imagine how he thinks I could ever be a good match for him. My boldness and acerbity would certainly never please either Mr. Collins or his noble patroness. And with such thoughts as these, the second of many autumn showers began to fall, and Elizabeth was forced to return to the house and the attentions of her unwelcome suitor and the broad hints of her mother that everything was going according to plan.
"Charles! Henry! You have ruined my plans! Where have you been? It has been pouring all morning and your boots are absolutely filthy!"
"Good morning to you too, Caroline!" laughed Henry. "I shan't answer any questions that are couched in such exaggerations. It has only been showering on and off, and the drives of both Longbourn and Netherfield are so admirably kept that my boots are in fine condition for gracing your home."
"Longbourn? Charles, tell me you did not call on Miss Bennet so soon after leaving the ball invitation and in such weather. Surely you know that this kind of preference will not go unnoticed. No matter how ridiculous her family and lowly her connections, surely Jane Bennet does not deserve to be treated in such an infamous manner. You are raising expectations that I know you can not possibly mean to fulfil," said Caroline, distracted from her initial disgruntlement by such shocking news.
"Indeed, Charles, I must agree with Caroline here," added Louisa.
"Well, I would agree with her as well," responded Charles, "if I had no intentions of courting Miss Bennet or eventually asking for her hand. But I do. So I don't."
"Well said," joked Henry.
"You do, so you don't? You do, so you don't! What is that supposed to mean?"
"I believe your brother is trying to say that he does have intentions toward Miss Bennet, therefore he doesn't agree that he should not be visiting her. Do I have that right, Bingley?"
"Yes, Darcy. Exactly."
"Mr. Darcy, you cannot mean to give your approval to this...this...scheme?" said Caroline, aghast.
"My restating of your brother's rather muddled comment does not in any way mean that I agree with him. Merely that I understand him," replied Darcy.
"You have all made yourselves very clear on the matter, but I believe I must act in a way that will constitute my happiness without reference to others, even those who are so nearly connected with me. Besides, Henry found Miss Bennet charming, and I have his support in asking her father for permission to formally court her. Right, Henry?" asked Charles with a hopeful glance at his brother.
"Henry, you cannot be serious!" chided Caroline
"Ah, but Caroline, I am perfectly serious. Charles is a grown man of independent means and upright morals. Jane Bennet is a marriageable woman of unimpeachable character and, as I have told my slightly ridiculous-looking brother, more beautiful than he deserves. What is there to stand in their way? An overbearing mother? An insignificant dowry? I say that if Charles does not care about such details than neither should we," replied Henry, with a quelling glance at Caroline.
"This is all very sudden, though, Henry. You must own that it is very sudden." Louisa felt she must support Caroline but found it hard to refute Henry's argument. Henry had long been the voice of reason and steadiness in a family headed by the kind but impetuous Charles.
"I agree with Mrs. Hurst on this point, Henry. Charles has not known Miss Bennet above three months. And you know his character. He has fallen in and out of love with such regularity that I can hardly remember all of the ladies involved.
"Moreover, I have seen no sign of special regard for your brother from Miss Bennet. Her countenance is uniformly serene upon meeting him," Darcy added, hoping his arguments would still hold sway now that Charles had an advocate. The thought of his nearest friend being so closely related to Elizabeth Bennet when he could not even trust himself in the same room as her was enough to make him panic ever so slightly.
"Isn't that a bit officious, Darcy? Who are you ... who are any of us to tell Charles and Miss Bennet how they feel about one another? What's more, I met Miss Bennet this morning and I am by no means as convinced as you of her indifference to Charlie-boy. She seemed rather smitten, if reserved. She was certainly happy enough when he asked her to open the ball with him!" Henry could not resist baiting Caroline, even now that he was a grown man and a clergyman at that. It had always been easy, and with Caroline's increasing self-importance since the size of her father's estate had become known, it was like shooting ducks in a barrel.
"You are all talking of me as though I am no longer in the room. I know how you think, Sisters. You too, Darcy, though I respect your opinion on many other matters. You all think that I am incapable of rational thought and decisive action when a pretty girl is involved. I tell you now, however, that my feelings for Jane are all that is pure and right. I love her. And, after I was with her this morning, I decided to ask her father for formal permission to court her at the earliest possible moment.
"You do not know her as I do. You have not received her smiles and her warm looks. I have, and I was a fool to need Henry's second opinion, as much as I agree with it. I should have been able to judge for myself that I was not in error. I will not make such a mistake again, and I hope you will importune me no further on the subject. My mind is made up, and I expect all of my family to show Miss Bennet and her family the utmost respect at the ball." And with that bold speech, one of the most confident any of them could remember, Charles Bingley exited the room, leaving his audience stunned but respectful.
After a few moments of silence in which no one could figure out how everything had gone quite so wrong, the room erupted with questions for Henry about what he and Charles had talked about, how the visit had gone, and what he thought of the terribly gauche Bennets.
Darcy listened to Henry's responses with half an ear while he pondered the situation he found himself in. If Charles did press his suit with Miss Bennet, he would be thrown into Miss Elizabeth's company far more frequently. That would not do. He was already finding her face and form quite distracting. And, what was more, he found her wit sharp and her mind well informed, especially for someone of her sex and lack of formal education. It would not do to have such feelings for someone so obviously beneath him in situation and relations. Her dowry was nothing, he had heard, and...
At that moment, Darcy's thoughts were interrupted as Henry mentioned the very object of his musings.
"...and I found Miss Elizabeth Bennet a lively conversationalist. She also happens to have the most captivating eyes I have ever encountered, and I will be happy to see them-and their owner-at Charles' ball."
"Her eyes! Her eyes! This is really too insupportable. Has she bewitched every man around here? I see nothing so fine about her eyes, though you men seem to be able to speak of nothing else. What of her teeth? Her complexion? Her utter lack of feminine refinement and her brazen walks through the wilderness? If I never heard of Miss Eliza Bennet again, it would be too soon!" And with that outburst, Caroline left the room in a swirl of skirts and wounded pride.
Louisa added, "Really, Henry! Did you have to mention that creature? Now Caroline will be in a snit all day," and promptly left the room herself.
Henry looked at his patron. "I have never seen Caroline lose her composure to such a degree in front of you before, Darcy. It's almost as though she sees Miss Elizabeth as a rival, but that is ridiculous, I am her brother! Do you have any idea what that is about?"
Darcy looked distinctly uncomfortable. He had always had a very honest relationship with Henry, who was, after all, his pastor as well as his best friend's brother. Unlike the almost paternal feelings he had for Charles, his relationship with Henry was a meeting of the minds, like iron sharpening iron. Now it seemed they had become rivals of a sort, though he was sure Henry could have no inkling. Moreover, this whole mess involved the delicate topic of Caroline's unrequited pursuit. How honest ought he to be in such a case?
"I, er, do believe she sees Miss Elizabeth as a rival. However, it is not your attention she wishes to keep but mine, I fear. It has become increasingly clear to me since we arrived at Netherfield that your sister has made me the object of her affections. Or perhaps I should say aspirations. And, as I happened to mention that I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet's eyes to be rather fine, your similar turn of phrase seems to have inspired her ire. This, of course, is all conjecture, but I have observed the situation for some weeks now and believe I have the right of it," said Darcy when he felt he could delay no longer.
"Ahhh. It all becomes clear. Well, certainly not all. There is one fact that does not jibe with the rest of your account. I have never heard you compliment a young lady before. You are always so careful, so circumspect, so as not to raise false hopes or expectations. Does your commenting on Miss Elizabeth's eyes signal a sea change or did it arise from the circumstance of the moment? After deriding her family for weeks to Charles, you cannot expect me to believe you have serious intentions in that quarter," replied a rather astonished Henry, who had heard of Darcy's disapprobation of the neighbourhood through his frequent correspondence with his brother and sisters.
Darcy's silence spoke volumes, and both men remained thus for some time. Eventually Darcy was able to pull his thoughts together enough to say, "Of course I have no intentions toward Miss Elizabeth. I cannot. I must not. Connecting myself to such a family would be insupportable. I have been trying to tell your brother just such hard truths, and now you have come and undone all my good offices toward him. I hope you know what you are getting yourself into by encouraging the connection. I believe your eyes will be opened at the ball, but by then it may be too late."
Posted on Tuesday, 25 July 2006
"We'll be late, we'll be late! Girls, hurry with your final preparations," begged Mrs. Bennet on the night of the Netherfield Ball.
"I thought you wanted us to be late, Mama," said Lydia.
"Late but not late," corrected Mrs. Bennet. "We must be there before the first two dances for you know Jane and Lizzy have each secured a handsome, agreeable partner for the opening set. And twins! How wonderful a double match would be!" Mrs. Bennet seemed to have momentarily forgotten the hoped for attachment between Mr. Collins and her least deserving daughter, but the man in question had not.
Mr. Collins listened to Mrs. Bennet's raptures with growing alarm. How could she be so overjoyed at the prospect of Miss Elizabeth dancing with Henry Bingley? Surely Mrs. Bennet could not have misunderstood his marked attentions to her second daughter!
"Mr. Collins, are you ready? We are departing for the carriage now," Mary's soft voice interrupted Mr. Collins' tumultuous thoughts.
"Ah, Miss Mary, yes, yes, I am ready. And may I say, you look particularly lovely tonight," replied Mr. Collins with as unstudied an air as possible.
Mary blushed under such magnanimous praise. No one, certainly no gentleman, had ever singled her out for a compliment before. Especially not one on her appearance! "Thank you, sir. And may I say how much I have enjoyed our conversations about Fordyce's sermons and the other moral texts you recommend. Your opinions on that passage this morning exactly reflect my own." Mary had been prevented from expressing her agreement that morning due to Mr. Collins' tendency toward monologue. Now, however, he seemed most pleased by the compliment, which removed nearly all the sting from being beaten to the first two dances with Cousin Elizabeth.
"Cousin Mary, might I ask you for the privilege of dancing the first two with me?" asked Mr. Collins, totally forgetting-or ignoring-his promise to sit them out for Elizabeth's sake.
Mary accepted with alacrity. This was an unexpected but not unwelcome turn of events. Mary was an observer, and as such she had noticed Mr. Collins' marked attentions toward Lizzy. Knowing Lizzy so well and Mr. Collins at least a little, she could not imagine them happy together. She could, however, conceive of a future in which she was the chosen companion of her clerical cousin. Indeed, their similar turns of mind in matters moral seemed a better beginning than most couples could boast. If only I knew how to keep a man's attention! bemoaned Mary to herself. I ought to have paid more attention when Kitty and Lydia were plotting their romantic schemes.
Determined to at least try to encourage him, Mary added, "Indeed, it would be a privilege, Mr. Collins. Would I be too bold if I said that I was hoping you would ask me?"
How could Mr. Collins be offended at such a show of favour from a smiling Mary Bennet? It would be ungallant to criticise such sweet-tempered honesty! "Boldness in a woman is indeed an evil, Miss Mary, but I cannot call your statement such. No, I declare it to be all politeness and condescension toward me, your humble servant," replied a very flattered Mr. Collins. He had been waiting to use the humble servant line for days, but somehow Miss Elizabeth never seemed the appropriate recipient for such an uplifting compliment-she was quite uplifted on her own.
Mr. Collins' musings and Mary's efforts were interrupted by Hill's throat clearing. "Miss Mary, you and Mr. Collins are wanted in the carriage. Your mother is in earnest about departing."
William Collins had the presence of mind to offer his not-so-fair cousin his arm and escort her to the carriage with all due haste.
He and Mary were not the only ones, however, to whom Mrs. Bennet's crowing about twins and double matches was significant. During the previous interchange, Elizabeth Bennet had sat in the carriage with her face burning in mortification. Her mother was beyond impertinent. Why, she had only just met Mr. Henry Bingley and had not said twenty words to him before an argument had ensued! Surely her mother could not be serious in her premature matchmaking. Lord, please help Mother keep a restrained tongue in her head tonight, she prayed silently but fervently. Imagine if Mr. Charles Bingley heard such a ridiculous presumption! Please do not let this folly ruin Jane's chance to shine tonight, she added.
On the other hand, anything that could distract her mother from further matchmaking between herself and Mr. Collins was to be welcomed. What a ludicrous idea! How could her mother believe that she would ever accept such a man? An image came to her mind: Mr. Collins gazing at her throughout the entire first set...and then approaching her for the second! Why, oh why, had she not mentioned the ball to Mr. Wickham? He might have solicited the first dance and saved her from at least a portion of the misery to come.
But Elizabeth knew very well why she had not mentioned the ball to Mr. Wickham. It was impolite to mention a social event before knowing if the other party had received an invitation. And although she had since heard that the militia had all been invited, she was by no means certain that Mr. Darcy had not managed to exclude Mr. Wickham out of spite.
Jane, Kitty, and Lydia were blissfully unaware of the machinations and ruminations of those around them. To them, a ball was a ball-a wonderful but simple chance to wear a pretty gown and dance with their favourite partners. Their only anxiety was the length of time it was taking Mary and Mr. Collins, the two least fashion-conscious of the party, to come out to the carriage.
At last, all were loaded and the Bennet party, with Mr. Collins in tow, was able to leave for the long-awaited Netherfield Ball.
The Netherfield Ball had already begun by the time the Bennet carriage finally pulled up the sweep to the Hall's tree-lined walk. Fortunately, the orchestra was under strict instructions to wait for a sign from Mr. Bingley before playing the opening bars of the first dance.
As the Bennet party entered, Mr. Bingley's face lit up. Finally! The rain had only worsened in the days since his momentous decision to ask Mr. Bennet for permission to court his eldest daughter, making it all but impossible for him to do so. He had spent several days instead hiding from his sisters and Darcy as much as possible. Even though he was determined to follow his heart, it was difficult to bear so much disapprobation. Fortunately, he had been able to use the ball preparations as an excuse. There was nothing to be done that he did not do himself-or at least it felt like it. The servants and cooks would have heartily disagreed with such grandiosity!
And here she was, standing before him, a vision in white. She had always seemed an angel to him, but now he felt it all the more. He offered his arm, and she floated over to take it. He smiled at her, and the smile she returned bolstered him as no reassurance from Henry could have. He would find a way to ask her father tonight!
Henry would have smiled to see such a look of admiration and confidence on Charles' face, but his mind was even more agreeably engaged in welcoming his first dance partner to the ball.
After his conversation with Darcy, he had been more intrigued by Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Although Darcy had disavowed an attachment, it had been denied with such force and repetition as to communicate something else entirely. Methinks he doth protest too much. Their common attraction to her sparkling eyes was at once a point of mirth and of consternation. Darcy had seen her first and, it seemed, developed some sort of tendre for her. However, there was obviously nothing declared or even acknowledged as far as he could gather.
Henry's own attraction was simply that, attraction. Yet if he were honest with himself, as he always tried to be, he would have to admit that he was intrigued enough to want to find out more about her. To know her. To raise her much-mentioned wit as quickly as he had somehow raised her ire.
Did Darcy have a prior claim? If so, should that stop Henry from getting to know her better? Shouldn't Miss Elizabeth herself have a chance to know both of them before...?
Stop this! he had chided himself. At the moment, she seems to hate you and possibly Darcy too for something he or we were supposed to have done to Wickham.
Yet here she was, sparkling eyes and delightful smile driving all thoughts of Wickham from his head.
"I welcome you to Netherfield, Miss Elizabeth, on my brother's behalf. He seems to have drifted away from receiving his guests in favour of signalling to the orchestra that it is time to start the opening set. I can't imagine what or who has distracted him so, can you?" Henry held out his arm and gave her his most disarming smile. "They do look well together, don't they?"
"Indeed they do, Mr. Bingley," replied Elizabeth with an answering grin. "If you continue to compliment my sister so much, I am afraid I will forget that I am in the middle of a quarrel with you, however. And that should vex me greatly, for I do so love a good row."
"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I believe we were in the middle of an easily cleared-up misunderstanding, not a row. But as the orchestra is playing the strains of our dance as well as our siblings', I suggest we postpone the clarification for another time," rejoined Henry as he led Elizabeth toward the floor.
"You really expect me to dance in the middle of a row..."
"Misunderstanding, I'd say."
"...disagreement, perhaps? It seems rather ungentlemanlike of you. Do not two dancers need to be in perfect accord in order to execute the dance most gracefully?"
"That is a standard that would be hard to meet, Miss Elizabeth. Are there many people with whom you share a perfect accord?"
"Touché, Mr. Bingley. Given my propensity for finding sport in my neighbours' follies, I do not find myself in perfect accord with many."
"And now we are dancing, are we not? Even with this misunderstanding..."
"Row."
"...disagreement between us."
And so they continued for the rest of the set, alternately smiling at Jane and Charles' obvious fondness, dancing a complex figure, or disagreeing about disagreeing.
"May I get you a glass of punch before the next set begins?"
"Will it come with this so-called explanation of stolen livings that were not stolen?"
"If you like. However, I am beginning to think you are determined to think ill of me! Sit here and I will be back momentarily."
While Henry was gone, Elizabeth scanned the room for signs of Mr. Wickham. She was able to catch Lydia's attention for a moment and asked, "Did you happen to find out if all of the officers were invited, Lydia?"
"Yes, Denny said there was a general invitation issued to all the officers, but that our new friend Wickham had to go to town on urgent business. I am so put out because I was hoping to secure him for the supper set. Oh well, I guess little Saunderson will have to do. Or perhaps Stevens. It is dreadfully hard to make up my mind with all these red coats about!" Laughing, she tripped off to secure partners for even more dances.
This latest revelation did nothing to endear either Mr. Henry Bingley or Mr. Darcy to Elizabeth. So when both men approached her at the same time, she was very nearly scowling.
Mr. Darcy reached her first.
"Miss Bennet, would you do me the honour of dancing the next with me?"
"I regret to inform you that I had already promised that set to my cousin, Mr. Collins."
Eyeing Henry Bingley and his punch, Mr. Darcy tried again. "Then perhaps you might reserve the supper set."
"The supper set?" queried both Henry and Elizabeth with inappropriateness equal to their incredulity.
With a glare at Henry but a small smile for Elizabeth, he replied, "Indeed. It is the set that is customarily played just before supper. The supper set. May I have the honour?"
"I ... I ... Yes, thank you, I shall see you for the supper set," replied Elizabeth, who did not know whether she was more shocked or aggravated by such presumption. And she could not vent her frustrations to Charlotte or Jane because she was immobilised by Mr. Bingley's proffered glass of punch and its accompanying explanation.
"Miss Elizabeth, we haven't much time before your cousin comes to claim you." Elizabeth choked a bit. "For your dance, that is. And I'd like a chance to clear my good name. The other day you seemed to be under the impression that I had stolen or unethically gained my current post at the expense of a Mr. Wickham. Is that right?"
"Yes. Mr. Wickham shared every particular with me. How Mr. Darcy, the late Mr. Darcy that is, left him the living of Kympton in his will. And how through some technicality or other Mr. Darcy was able to deny him what was not only his due but also his desert. Then I found that you, Mr. Darcy's long-time friend, had been granted the living instead. It seems obvious to me that Mr. Darcy has acted most unfairly and that you have benefited by it. However, since I last spoke to you, I realised that you may not have been acquainted with all of the particulars, so perhaps I was a bit premature in my anger. But you seemed so unfeeling!"
"I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, that I am not unfeeling about anyone in distress, but my interpretation of these events is quite different than your own. First, it is true that I call Mr. Darcy an acquaintance, perhaps even a friend, but our relationship is by no means intimate. He and my brother are, I grant, quite close, but my studies and interests kept me far too busy at university to chum about with the gentry like Charles did. After university, I became a curate at Pemberley Chapel before the late Mr. Darcy's demise and that did draw me closer to the entire Darcy family, but Darcy himself was often in town then. I did, I suppose, offer him some comfort and counsel when his father passed, but nothing that would have influenced him to treat his father's favourite so cruelly as you suggest, simply to give me a living. And I certainly did nothing to influence him against Wickham.
"It seems, however, that Wickham left out several parts of the story. Did he tell you that the living was given conditionally only? That he practically begged Darcy to find someone else to take it, should it come open, and was remunerated well for its sacrifice? If common gossip were to be believed, he was given ten times the living's annual worth and the chance to train for the law. I know not the sum, except that it was great. Other Darcy family retainers and servants were abuzz with it for weeks. 'The luck of that good-for-nothing George Wickham', I heard more than once.
"That is another reason that I distrust this version of events and wanted to acquaint you of my greater knowledge of them. From what I have heard and what little I know directly, Wickham is neither theologically nor morally fitted for the role of spiritual leader. Darcy was looking out for the parishioners of Kympton when he agreed to the trade of the living for a monetary settlement.
"When the living came open, I was brought to Darcy's attention by my superior-the Darcy family rector. I was offered the position free and clear. The music is starting, so I will end with this: Darcy loved his father, Miss Elizabeth. I cannot believe that he would have sold Mr. Wickham's living out from under him in such a way. He can be a hard man, but I have always known him to be fair and kind to all in his care."
Mr. Collins approached to claim his dances in a rather subdued manner. From his previous threats of constant attention at the ball, Elizabeth had feared that she would never be left alone all evening. In fact, she had never noticed him until now, much to her delight. It was hard enough to examine all her complicated feelings for Misters Bingley, Wickham, and Darcy without worrying about his officious attentions. Could what Mr. Bingley just revealed be true?
"I must apologise, Cousin Elizabeth, for neglecting you during the first set. You must have noticed, however, that I was very agreeably engaged with your sister, Mary. Her manners are so pleasing and her moral assertions so correct. I wonder why I never noticed before?" said an incredulous Mr. Collins, paying very little attention to his partner and not much more to his dance steps. Lizzy did not want to distract him from his counting, so she initiated none of her usual ballroom banter; nor did he employ his battery of little compliments.
In spite of the awkwardness of the dance itself, it was the nicest half-hour Elizabeth had ever spent in Mr. Collins' company. The after-dance small talk revolved, of all things, around Mary's dress and hair and the piece she had told Mr. Collins she would play. Elizabeth was happy to redirect his attentions in what she hoped was a more welcome direction. She had her own quandaries to contemplate-was Mr. Bingley's assessment of the situation accurate, was Mr. Wickham a braggart and a liar, and most important for the moment, what was she to talk of with Mr. Darcy later throughout the infamous supper set?
Posted on Saturday, 29 July 2006
The supper set was announced and the couples for it began to form up almost immediately. Elizabeth had danced with many delightful-and uncomplicated-partners and was busy acquainting Charlotte with all that had happened, including her promise to dance the next with Mr. Darcy, when the man himself appeared at her side, tall and grave and inscrutable.
He led Elizabeth out to the floor, and she read in her neighbours' looks their amazement in beholding them together. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances. She would have punished him by making small talk, but her mind was in such turmoil that she did not feel equal to her usual banter. She could not make out his character at all. All she had known of him previously seemed at odds with Mr. Henry Bingley's account of him.
Mr. Darcy was the first to break the silence. "You are quiet this evening, Miss Bennet."
"That is one advantage of dancing, is it not? One may choose to say as little as possible."
"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"
"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the éclat of a proverb."
"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."
"I must not decide on my own performance. But, to be truthful, Mr. Darcy, I could not paint a verbal portrait of you if I tried. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly." Elizabeth decided to risk a bold statement. "For example, Mr. Wickham's account of your dealings with him does not at all mesh with Mr. Henry Bingley's opinion on the subject."
The dancers continued through their steps until they were at a place for further conversation.
"May I ask which account you credit? For if it is the former, I imagine you are very uncomfortable right now. I am sure that Mr. Wickham has painted me as the veriest scoundrel, and his happy manners have added veracity to every remark. Whatever he may be, he is quite the opposite of unsocial and taciturn." Mr. Darcy could not leave the note of bitterness entirely out of his voice as he threw her words back at her.
"Oh, yes, he has happy manners and a pleasing countenance, and until tonight I would have been happy to know him better," Elizabeth owned.
"And now?" queried Mr. Darcy.
"Now I do not know what to think. I have known you the longest of the three gentlemen concerned, but somehow I feel I know you the least. As I said, you are a puzzle."
Mr. Darcy was silent. He felt like a puzzle to himself. He knew he could not pursue this woman, and yet here he was, dancing the supper set and longing to set her opinion of Wickham to rights. He could not forget, either, the cold stab of jealousy in the pit of his stomach when he had watched her tease and dance with Henry Bingley. I feel like a schoolboy. I wanted to march up to Henry and say, "I saw her first!"
"As you probably have surmised, I am not one to lay my actions open to scrutiny by the world at large. However, if we have a quiet moment during supper, would you give me the chance to defend myself from the charges Mr. Wickham has obviously laid at my door?" At the very least, Mr. Darcy did not want to end the evening knowing that Elizabeth Bennet would return to Longbourn thinking ill of him. More than that he could not contemplate.
Elizabeth was shocked. Mr. Darcy was offering to sup with her? To explain himself to her? She supposed the former ought to have been obvious, but somehow she had forgotten in the tumult of the evening's emotions. The offer of an explanation she could never have predicted. But did she desire it?
"Certainly, Mr. Darcy. We have not always been the best of friends, but I believe you to be honest to a fault. If you would expose your thoughts to me in such a way, I could not but listen."
Mr. Darcy started a bit at this jibe about their lack of friendship, but he nodded his agreement and led her through the final figures of the set and off the floor to find a quiet spot to eat and talk.
It is a truth universally unacknowledged that a man at a ball in possession of a private message must be in want of a quiet spot.
Mr. Collins had found his. He had approached Mrs. Bennet during the course of the evening with a not-so-subtle request that he be able to transfer his attentions to his cousin Mary. Mrs. Bennet had agreed with alacrity-Mary had always presented the biggest matrimonial challenge and Elizabeth seemed to be attracting the attentions of Henry Bingley. In any case, Lizzy was least deserving of all her daughters to become mistress of Longbourn, so it was ideal in many respects.
Mr. Bingley too had found his quiet spot-twice. He was able to bring Jane a glass of punch on the balcony and secure her heartfelt agreement to being courted. Her response was such that he wondered how he had ever been in any doubt of her affections! Next he sought a private audience with Mr. Bennet in the billiard room-an unorthodox choice during a ball, but one of the few truly quiet spots in the house. Mr. Bennet gave his bemused permission for Bingley to court his eldest daughter with only a modicum of teasing. Bingley was far too easy a target for his satiric wit, and he had no real desire to injure Jane's marital chances. His wife would never let him hear the end of it if he had, by too much teasing, driven Bingley away.
Henry Bingley had no need of a quiet spot, yet. He had been having an enjoyable evening dancing with the various Bennet sisters, content in the knowledge of Charles' intentions, and thereby looking forward to one day becoming their brother. He felt his failure to influence his own sisters toward kindness and compassion keenly, but he sensed in these new almost-relations a genuineness of spirit that only wanted a bit of guidance. Kitty and Lydia could use the steadying influence of an elder brother, and Mary would benefit from practice in conversing with a male nearer her own age than Mr. Bennet. Jane was, as he had thought, everything lovely and modest-more in need of a husband than a brother-but Charles would serve admirably.
That brought him to Elizabeth. Elizabeth was something else, something more. A well-read and well-spoken woman-some of those barbs had been both erudite and eloquent-but one with a lively spirit and lovely figure. Had he ever before met someone who embodied all his ideals? And yet, he could not ignore the pain in Darcy's voice as he declared it impossible that he should be interested in her, nor the glare that Henry had received from him when remarking with shock about the supper set. To have made such a show of preference in front of all of Meryton when he so rarely dances! Ah, Darcy, you are further gone than you realise.
If only I had come to Netherfield when I was first invited, he thought with a degree of petulance quite unlike his usual maturity, then my dratted honour would not be telling me to hold back. Dear Lord, give me guidance to know what is right in a case such as this! Do I pursue or retreat? At least there is no rush. Darcy is still peeved at Charles for courting Jane, so despite his attentions to her this evening, he would certainly not be pursuing Elizabeth-at least overtly. Not Darcy.
Mr. Darcy, it seemed, was the only man in need of a quiet spot who could not find one. He led Miss Elizabeth into dinner, fully intending to sit in a corner and defend himself against Wickham's slanders. However, when they arrived in the dining room, Mrs. Bennet flagged over her second daughter insistently. Neither Darcy nor Elizabeth could be best pleased with such a command, but there seemed to be no graceful way to avoid her.
Pulling Elizabeth slightly to one side-but certainly not out of earshot-she said in her best stage whisper, "Lizzy, what in the world are you doing dancing with that high and mighty Mr. Darcy? I saw Mr. Bingley watching you dance with him."
"Mr. Bingley never watches me dance, Mama; and, please lower your voice, he will hear you."
"Not Mr. Bingley, Mr. Bingley: Mr. Henry Bingley. The brother. And he cannot possibly hear me, he is across the room," scoffed Mrs. Bennet, as though Lizzy were a simpleton.
"I was referring to my most recent dance partner," mumbled Elizabeth, trying not to repeat that gentleman's name and draw further attention.
"What is Mr. Darcy to me or to you, for that matter? You are not handsome enough to tempt him, or have you forgotten? No. Focus your attentions where they will be better received. If you mean to secure Mr. Henry Bingley, you ought to pay more attention to him! Mr. Collins will not have you now. It seems he has taken a fancy to Mary, and since she is by far the homeliest of you girls, I thought it best to let her have him even though you are the elder."
Elizabeth would not have let her mother prattle on so if she had not been so taken aback by what she was hearing. As it was, once she recovered her wits, she could not think of anything to say but a very shocked, "Mama!"
"Oh, Lizzy, do not chide me, for I know that you did not care two straws about Mr. Collins, though you would have accepted him to save our family home. Mary can do that now. I am sure the parsonage at Kympton is a very handsome place though it is not an estate like Longbourn. Oh, now I see what you are worried about. Mr. Darcy is Mr. Bingley's patron. I suppose it is wise to pay him the deference that he is due. But do not flirt with him, by all means, or Mr. Bingley, your Mr. Bingley, I mean, will surely be jealous." And with that tremendous-and loud-leap of logic, Mrs. Bennet left a mortified Elizabeth with a tight-lipped Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth turned to him slowly, her cheeks aflame, her eyes downcast. "Oh, Mr. Darcy, what can I possibly say to apologise for such speeches? I am sure you must have heard most if not all of that. My mother ... She ... There is really nothing to say, is there?" Elizabeth peered up at his forbidding mien through lowered lashes. His lips were still tight, but his chin was ... Was it quivering? And his eyes seemed to be shining a bit. Was it with rage or suppressed laughter? She peered closer, mortification giving way to understanding. The two turned in perfect agreement for the first time and headed toward the balcony, fortunately emptied of couples by the impending supper. Once they were out of sight, they burst into laughter-the quietest they could manage.
Once they had recovered their faculties, an embarrassed Mr. Darcy was the first to speak. "Miss Bennet, forgive me, please. I do not know what came over me. I have never openly laughed at another human being's foibles since I was a child, and I am certain it was but rarely then. I have no excuse to offer."
"Excuse! Oh, Mr. Darcy, do not be so hard on yourself, I can come up with several excuses if you would like! I love my mother dearly, but even I could not but find that speech ridiculous. And in your presence, or nearly so. Oh, Mama! She has never been exactly tactful, but the strain of Mr. Collins' visit with all its attendant reminders of the eventual entail have made her more highly strung than usual. That is not an excuse, sir, for I know there is none. But I hope it may mitigate the derision you feel at this moment."
"I cannot put words to exactly what I feel. It was all so amazing, really, how one thought led to the next. I am equal parts shocked, bemused, and impressed, I think. To my knowledge, I have never been set-down so viciously before! Usually, people are far too interested in currying my favour to ever say those sorts of things to me-at least to my face."
"Or your side."
"Or my side. Indeed. But I find I owe you another apology as well. It seems as though the remark I made at the Meryton Assembly was overheard by someone. "
"Yes. By me."
"Would that I had stayed home that night! I apologise for the comment, Miss Bennet. It was said in a fit of pique at Bingley and without much thought. You must know by now, not the least by my asking you to dance tonight, that my opinions have changed considerably."
"Oh. Considerably? No. Certainly I did not, sir. Your good opinion once lost is lost forever. I thought that I had never gained it and had no chance of ever earning it. As I said before, you and I have never been the best of friends."
Mr. Darcy looked as though he would refute this but instead opted to recall Mrs. Bennet's words, "Remember the deference you owe me as the patron of your favourite, Miss Elizabeth. You would not want to bring about another lecture, would you?"
In the same teasing manner, Elizabeth replied, "If we are following all my mother's advice, Mr. Darcy, we must cease our banter and leave this balcony at once."
"We must?"
"Yes, I must not seem to flirt with you!" and with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous smile, Lizzy turned to go.
"Wait!" Darcy was reluctant to let this moment pass. He felt as though he had fallen to the depths with some of her mother's words only to be retrieved by a few well-placed barbs. She drove him to distraction. Such distraction that he had almost forgotten the reason they were trying to find a quiet spot in the first place.
"Mr. Darcy, are you trying to cheat me of my supper? I will be too fatigued to dance with any of my favourites if you keep me here all night," said Elizabeth with a mixture of teasing and truth.
"I know we have no time now, but I still must relate to you the story of my dealings with Mr. Wickham. I am all seriousness when I say that I would rather starve than see you taken in by that rogue."
"You may be willing to starve for it, but I am not. I am willing to hear you later, and I assure you that I will take anything he says with a grain of salt in the meantime, but I really do feel we should return or there will be talk. And not just from my mother!" And with that, Lizzy left him to follow and enter the dining room at a tactful distance.
Posted on Tuesday, 1 August 2006
As soon as Lizzy entered the dining room, she was approached by a beaming Jane, who said, "Lizzy, have you heard my most wonderful news? I have been looking for you this past quarter of an hour at least. It is all just too wonderful."
"Jane," gasped Elizabeth in an undertone, "did Mr. Bingley propose?"
"Propose?" blushed Jane. "No, it is much too soon for that, is it not? But it is nearly as wonderful, Mr. Bingley has asked Papa's permission to court me formally ... and Papa has given his consent. Oh, Lizzy, has there ever been another woman so perfectly happy? And, the best news of all is that Charles has postponed his trip to London indefinitely so that we might not be parted! The Netherfield Party plans to stay through the holidays. Oh, Lizzy."
"Jane! I am so very happy for you. Mr. Bingley has shown himself to possess true decisiveness, a trait that he boasted to be sorely lacking."
"Miss Bennet, may I extend my felicitations as well. Mr. Bingley is a fortunate man if he has truly secured your regard," intoned Mr. Darcy from behind Lizzy's right shoulder, startling both women a bit.
"Oh, Mr. Darcy, thank you. Yes, he had long secured my regard, but I was not at all sure I had secured his." Jane lowered her voice so that only Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth could hear, "He confessed that he had had the same insecurities all this time. Is it not too wonderful that our minds are so similar? I had not dared to hope that he would approach Father so soon!"
"Charles is a good man. And I believe you will make him happy." Turning to an incredulous Elizabeth, Darcy said, "May I get you a plate, Miss Elizabeth?"
"Yes, that would be lovely. I would not want to starve, especially in the face of such lovely news!" laughed Elizabeth.
After Mr. Darcy was well out of earshot, Jane murmured, "Have you been on the balcony together since the dance? I was looking all over for you, but I never expected.... I mean, Lizzy, what in the world were you talking about for so long?"
"Oh, Jane, now is not the time to relate all that has passed this evening. I am just surprised that your courtship has the stated approbation of Mr. Darcy. I would have thought him against such an alliance," added Lizzy, also sotto voce. Then, louder, she added, "Now, where is your Mr. Bingley? I think you had better find him. Your white soup is probably positively chilled by now!"
"Lizzy, you cannot believe I could eat at a time like this. I am too perfectly happy. But, you are right that I should go find Mr. Bingley. He ought to be the primary recipient of my joy tonight, do you not think?" And turning, she left Lizzy smiling after her.
I cannot believe that is my reserved sister. Certainty has surely made her bolder! She is practically floating back to her chair.
"May I help you find a chair?" queried a voice from over Elizabeth's shoulder.
Turning, she returned the smile of Mr. Henry Bingley. "Oh, no thank you, my partner is getting me a plate, and I am certain he will secure a seat as well. But, you may have my thanks for your honesty earlier. If I had not spoken to you, my dance with Mr. Darcy might have been far less enjoyable."
"So happy to have been a help to Darcy," replied Henry in a tone just short of sarcastic. "I assume you have heard that our siblings have found their way to each other in earnest. Is that not even better done of me?"
"Mr. Bingley! Did you have a hand in the match? If so, you are quite the speedy matchmaker, for you have only been here a week!"
"I cannot take credit, of course, for their mutual affection. I will, however, claim the role of paraclete-I encouraged my brother to see what was before his eyes and to have a bit more faith in his own judgement. That is all that was wanting," assured Henry. He wanted Elizabeth to know of his actions, but he did not want to sound as though he was boasting overmuch. "I was hoping," he continued, "that you would dance the next with me in celebration of our siblings' acknowledged courtship."
Jane's news had added even more buoyancy to Elizabeth's manner, and she gaily replied, "Yes, I will. But I feel it is only honourable to tell you that even one dance and one heated conversation between us have already given rise to fancies in my mother's mind. You are perfectly safe, I assure you, but I thought you might want a chance to cry off."
"What if I do not want to be safe?" challenged Henry.
His words and his very look silenced Elizabeth momentarily. As Mr. Darcy approached, she rallied. "In that case, you might as well risk it!"
"Miss Bennet, your supper awaits," said Darcy. And, nodding to Henry Bingley, he escorted her to a nearby chair in a section of the room nearly deserted now that supper was nearing an end.
As she sat down, the multifarious feelings she was experiencing washed over her. It was after midnight and she had never been without a partner, so she was rather tired and, of course, hungry. The disappointment she had early felt at Wickham's absence had turned into disappointment in the man himself, though she still wanted to hear what Mr. Darcy had to say for himself-if only to get the usually taciturn man talking about something personal. The uncertainty she had felt on Jane's behalf had turned into joy at Jane's being courted by the man of her dreams. The worry she had felt about Mr. Collins' attentions had turned into muted happiness for Mary and a not-so-muted distaste at the idea of receiving such a brother.
These feelings though contradictory and complex were nothing compared to the tumultuous sensations aroused by the two men who seemed to be vying for her attention.
Her attention was caught by Mr. Darcy's sitting down next to her in an empty chair. Although it was customary for men to stand behind their partners' chairs in a crowded supper room, there now seemed to be plenty of seating. Mr. Darcy availed himself of the opportunity to sit, saying, "I thought it might be easier to finally unburden myself to you if we were seated face-to-face. Do I presume too much?"
"No. Please, stay seated. I hope you will not mind if I eat while you talk? I do not mean to be rude, but for all my joking I find I am quite hungry after all."
"By all means, this is supper and you must sup. I, however, will not be easy enough to eat until I have told you some of my dealings with Wickham. The more I think about his being here in Hertfordshire importuning gentlewomen such as you and your sisters, the more it makes my blood boil."
"Mr. Darcy, you now have captured all of my attention. What has the man done that could so unsettle the very collected Mr. Darcy of Pemberley?" asked Elizabeth with genuine curiosity. She had never seen Mr. Darcy so agitated.
"Pemberley is as good a place to start as any. Mr. George Wickham is the son of a very respectable man who had for many years the very capable management of all the Pemberley estates. George Wickham was my father's godson and also a great favourite of his. My father supported George at school and Cambridge, and-hoping that the church would be his profession-he intended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it is many, many years since I first began to think of him in a very different light.
"You have had no time to really get to know him, but I hope you will not be misled by his easy manners. They are only the thinnest veneer over a cesspool of vicious propensities, which I was able to witness being nearly of an age with him. I am sorry to speak so of any fellow human being, but I feel I must protect you from his smooth, ingratiating ways.
"My excellent father died about five years ago; and his attachment to Mr. Wickham was to the last so steady, that in his will he particularly recommended it to me to promote his advancement in the best manner that his profession might allow, and, if he took orders, desired that Kympton might be his as soon as it became vacant. There was also a legacy of one thousand pounds. Mr. Wickham wrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders, he hoped I would remunerate him for the preferment since he would never use it but instead study the law.
"I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman. The business was therefore soon settled. He resigned all claim to assistance in the church, were it possible that he could ever be in a situation to receive it, and accepted in return three thousand pounds. All connection between us seemed now dissolved. I believe he chiefly lived in town, but his studying the law was a mere pretence, and being now free from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation.
"For about three years I heard little of him; but on the decease of the incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied to me again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, he assured me-and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. He had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained, if I would present him to the living in question-the very one he had given up! You will hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every repetition of it and giving the living instead to the very worthy Henry Bingley, whose character and faith I knew to be sincere.
"Wickham's resentment was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances-and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me to others, as in his reproaches to myself. I can imagine what he must have told you, but I hope that you will no longer put much faith in it. If you remain unconvinced after this faithful narrative, I will be saddened, but at least I will not have the guilt of knowing you attached yourself to him in ignorance."
"Attached myself! Mr. Darcy, I believe you think very little of my character if you believe I could attach myself to Mr. Wickham after only a week's acquaintance. You, sir, are beginning to sound like my mother when she talked of my securing Henry Bingley, whom I have known about the same amount of time!" teased Elizabeth.
"Well, Miss Bennet, you are even more apt with a set-down than your mother! I have been duly warned not to assume anything about your attachments in future without clarifying them with you."
Elizabeth was again speechless: first, Mr. Henry Bingley's openly flirting, and now Mr. Darcy's dwelling on her attachments. What a night!
Darcy was a bit worried by the uncharacteristic silence and finally broke it, saying, "Miss Bennet, all teasing aside, will you please tell me how you react to this sordid tale? Do I need to apply to my solicitor for copies of bank drafts? To my cousin, a Colonel in His Majesty's army for testimony as to my story's veracity?"
"I thought you said you would not tease! Of course I do not want such proofs. The word of a gentleman whom I have always known to be scrupulously honest, your word, is certainly enough. I fear, sir, that one of you has all the goodness and the other all the appearance of it! I wonder how many people have been duped by his tale of woe."
"All the appearance of it? Have you really thought me so very bad?" queried Darcy, a bit shocked at her bold assessment.
"Oh dear, sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my mind, I am afraid. Please forgive the bluntness of my speech," said Elizabeth.
"I forgive you, but you have not really answered my question."
"I was hoping you had not noticed that! You are far too clever, Mr. Darcy."
"Then you own that I have at least one redeeming quality besides this entirely hidden goodness."
"Perhaps I ought to clarify them with you," Elizabeth rejoined, not-so-innocently.
"Like your attachments?" asked Mr. Darcy, clearly delighted at this playful banter.
"What attachments are those?" interrupted a masculine voice.
"Oh! Mr. Bingley, I nearly forgot about our dance. Do forgive me, I have been hearing confirmation of your tale of Mr. Wickham. I am sorry I was ever..."
"Attached to him?" queried both men simultaneously.
"No, no, a thousand times no. Not attached. 'Taken in by him' is closer to the truth. Unlike my cousin Mr. Collins, I do not attach and un-attach myself to people at the drop of a hat."
"Who is this Mr. Collins?" asked Mr. Darcy.
"Excuse me, but the set has already been formed and I believe I have been promised one potentially unsafe dance!" interrupted an increasingly frustrated Henry Bingley.
"Yes, excuse us, Mr. Darcy. Thank you, though, for being so honest with me. It was more than I deserved."