JA quotes and intro

"I should infinitely prefer a book." -- Chapter 39, Pride and Prejudice
"...I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own credit..." -- Chapter 8, Pride and Prejudice
"I shall be glad to have the library to myself as soon as may be." -- Chapter 20, Pride and Prejudice

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Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Resolution and Reaction (Part 2 of 3)

Chapter Five

All traces of daylight had disappeared by the time the carriage stopped in front of Netherfield. The gentlemen retired early and rose early, and in very good time they mounted their horses, bound for Longbourn.

Darcy had only the smallest flicker of hope, but it would have to suffice. Season after season in town had failed to supply him with the slightest temptation to marry. It was unthinkable that he should ever bend to the wishes of Lady Catherine and wed his cousin. Any joy resulting from such a union would belong solely to his aunt, for Anne, used to being cosseted and made much of, would surely grow even more cross and uncongenial under his indifference to her. He was nearly eight and twenty, and the pressure from his aunt would only increase during his next visit to Kent. There would be difficulties—Lady Catherine would be livid!—but what a sweet relief it would be to go to Rosings with an understanding, or dare he think it, betrothed, or even married!

As the gentlemen crossed the boundary between Netherfield and Longbourn, Darcy considered what he would say to Elizabeth. At the very least, he had to tell her something about Wickham. That gentleman had imposed on her long enough, and Darcy could not be comfortable leaving her defenceless against the man's easy charm.

Soon they reached the house. Bingley had begun to lead the way when Darcy stopped him with a touch on the arm. "Let me, Bingley. I owe her this."

"Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, Ma'am." Hill's voice broke the uneasy silence in the sitting room where all the Bennets were gathered in preparation for the short walk to church. Breakfast had been a disappointing business. No one had eaten much. Mrs. Bennet's anger at Elizabeth was palpable and nothing seemed to temper it. Elizabeth was subdued, Mr. Bennet was amused, and Mary felt a sense of loss she did not care to examine. Jane was withdrawn, unable to stop worrying about her letter from Caroline. Even Kitty and Lydia could not persist in their natural giddiness in an atmosphere so charged.

Darcy was not smiling, but he might as well have been. The difference in his demeanour was apparent to every other person in the room and astounding to all but Bingley and himself. He bowed deeply and greeted Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and their daughters more graciously than he ever had before. He explained that he and Bingley had returned to Netherfield the previous night and had hastened to see them this morning, intending to escort them to the church. It was impossible to refuse such a request and equally impossible not to wonder what had prompted it. They could believe it of Bingley, but his proud, disagreeable friend had never sought their company before. What could he mean by it? Was this the same man?

Jane was in shock. She knew not what she did. Her fingers shook as she held her reticule in her lap. Her gaze was riveted to Bingley, and even Darcy could not misinterpret the look on her face. Initially she appeared as surprised as the rest, but now she seemed almost overcome with happiness and possibly relief. Darcy cringed inwardly at the damage he and Bingley's sisters had been willing to inflict on the couple.

The master and mistress of Longbourn were among the first to recover. Mr. Bennet exerted himself to express his gratitude for their kind gesture and to make appropriate enquiries after the gentlemen's health and that of their families.

Mrs. Bennet directed a question to Bingley. "I hope you had a pleasant journey, Sir. Did your sisters return with you, or do they remain in London?"

"They are settled at Mr. Hurst's house in town and are likely to continue there some weeks, I believe."

Elizabeth saw that Jane was still quite discomposed, and she wanted both to ease her sister's mind and to watch Darcy's reaction for confirmation of her suspicions. "Mr. Bingley," she ventured, "you must forgive us. Not all of us were expecting you so soon. You see, your sister wrote mine to say that she believed your business could not be concluded in such a short time, and that is why the whole party followed you to town." She dared not mention what else the letter contained.

Elizabeth watched both gentlemen. Bingley looked almost angry before his usual smile returned. Darcy looked conscious for a moment. After greeting the party, his gaze had never strayed far from Elizabeth, but now he found it difficult to meet her eyes.

Bingley prevaricated a bit. "Caroline is sometimes a little too solicitous of my comfort. I am sorry if her words were the cause of a misunderstanding." He looked directly at Jane as he said this and was rewarded with a becoming blush. Jane looked down a moment, and when she lifted her eyes again, Bingley was standing very near her.

"Shall I escort you, Miss Bennet?" Jane, recovering her natural serenity, stood and slipped her arm in his. Darcy followed Bingley's example and offered his arm to the second eldest Miss Bennet. Elizabeth again was all astonishment, yet she could hardly refuse. Her mother would be doubly angry with her for rebuffing a man with ten thousand a year and rejecting an offer of marriage from the heir of Longbourn in the space of a week. Darcy could not be aware of the position in which he had placed her with his simple request. It was unfair to hold it against him, but she added insensitivity to her long list of his faults. As they left the room, she realised she was being unkind. She was not as uncomfortable as she expected to be. She had stood close to him when they had danced together but not for a prolonged period, and the sensations it engendered now were not at all unpleasant. He was a handsome man, after all; she had never denied that. It struck her that if she had met this Mr. Darcy at the assembly months ago, this solicitous, even charming gentleman who had walked into the sitting room this morning, she would have fallen for him in an instant.



Bingley chatted amicably with Jane in the foyer, waiting for the others. He repressed the urge to declare himself immediately. There would be ample time for that later. His angel was saying something about her aunt coming to visit soon, so he listened intently and tried not to appear too distracted.

Darcy noticed Elizabeth's eyes darting about. She looked as if she would run away if given the chance. He was concerned that this might be all the time they had in each other's company today, so he decided to secure an interview as quickly as possible. He led her past the other couple and out the front door. When they had walked far enough away to avoid being overheard, he leant down and spoke close to Elizabeth's ear. "I am sure it comes as no surprise to you that my friend wishes to spend some time with your sister today. Would it suit you if we four walked out on the grounds here after we return?"

Elizabeth knew not how to reply. A puzzled look overspread her face as she wondered what this man would say next.

Darcy was concerned now; Elizabeth was rarely this uncommunicative. "I hope my suggestion was not improper. Will the weather be too uncomfortable for you or Miss Bennet? Perhaps I should not have mentioned it."

"No, your suggestion was very thoughtful," Elizabeth said quickly, "and I would be pleased to abide by it. Neither Jane nor I would be inconvenienced by the weather. It is not so cold, and the grounds are dry as we have had no rain since the day before the ball." She blushed at the memory of that night. She remembered too well her mortification at her family's indelicate display. Mr. Darcy had seen it all; she recalled his grave look as he had observed them there. With such unhappy thoughts for companions, she did not expect to see him smiling down at her now, but that was exactly what he was doing.



Upon entering the church, Mr. Bennet saw the raised eyebrows and heard the whispers as the two most eligible men in the neighbourhood escorted his eldest daughters to their seats. The gentlemen sat directly behind the family, and they were prompt at the end of service to solicit the company of Jane and Elizabeth for the walk home. Bingley was as gregarious as usual, greeting people he had hosted at the ball less than a week ago as if he had not seen them for a month or more. Darcy was causing odd reactions in more than one quarter by actually initiating conversation with a few of the locals. No one quite knew what to make of him.

Mr. Bennet was a curious man. He liked a good puzzle, and here was one right before his eyes. Just yesterday, Longbourn had been in uproar. His wife ranted about her "unfeeling, ungrateful daughter" one moment, spouted off about "horrid Mr. Collins" the next, and, for variety, mixed in several bitter comments about "those conniving Lucases." Today she was amazingly calm, smiling broadly at the backs of Bingley and Jane and managing to be civil to Darcy and Lizzy. How had this change come to pass? He had no cause to complain, to be sure, but he could not be comfortable. He decided he had better keep an eye on Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.



When Bingley's note had arrived the previous day in Grosvenor Street, the ladies of the house had been out. Hurst had read it, smirked, and placed it on the hall table—under several unremarkable papers. This morning, he pulled the missive free and put it in plain sight. The house would no longer be so quiet once others discovered the news, but it was only right that they be informed. He went in to breakfast and ate heartily, musing that he might as well fortify himself for the day ahead. Bingley would probably be an engaged man before Louisa and Caroline finished their toilette.



Caroline was furious with her brother-in-law. She had seen the note from Charles and promptly berated the servant for not having brought it to her immediately, only to be told that Hurst had received and read it the day before. That afternoon she all but dragged Louisa from the house and hastened to Darcy's residence, complaining to her sister for the duration of the ride.

Miss Darcy was surprised to see them again so soon, but she welcomed them with the utmost politeness and invited them to remain for tea. Miss Bingley was almost brusque in her refusal and her subsequent request to speak with the master of the house.

Georgiana was confused by her inquiry. "Did not your brother tell you?"

"Tell me what, Miss Darcy?" Caroline was losing what little patience she had. "Charles sent us a note regarding his plans, but that is why we are here to see your brother. He must follow Charles immediately. There is not a moment to lose."

Miss Darcy's perplexity was clearly displayed. "But he does not need to follow Mr. Bingley. He is with him even now. They left yesterday." She was beginning to understand. "Did you not know that my brother accompanied Mr. Bingley to Netherfield?"

Caroline's mouth opened, but no reply came out. Louisa rose quickly. She thanked Miss Darcy for her hospitality and made their excuses while leading her sister from the room. As their carriage pulled away, Caroline's faced drained of colour and her eyes grew wide in horror. She shrieked, "My letter! Oh, sister! What is to be done?"

Louisa suddenly realised what she meant. She did not ask what her sister had written to Jane, certain that it would not help to speak of it. She sighed. There was no consolation she could offer.



Chapter Six

Darcy had thought he would have been exhausted by the morning's efforts, but surprisingly he felt invigorated. After greeting the Bennets and surviving the initial exchange of pleasantries, Darcy felt that he could bear their company tolerably enough, and having Elizabeth at his side made everything easier. Why had he ever wanted to repress his feelings for her?

After the party entered the house, Mrs. Bennet rushed off to give directions to the cook. The gentlemen had accepted Mr. Bennet's invitation to luncheon. Kitty and Lydia removed their coats and hats and began wondering aloud when they might expect another visit from the officers. Wickham's name was spoken more than once. Mary excused herself and went to her room to read. Darcy pulled Bingley aside and informed him of the planned walk in the garden just before Mr. Bennet engaged them in conversation. Elizabeth and Jane talked quietly together on the other side of the room.

Elizabeth smiled slyly at her sister. "Well, Jane? What do you think now of your letter?"

Jane blushed in consternation. "Lizzy, I can hardly talk of that here." Elizabeth looked at her until she relented. "Oh, I will tell you then! It does seem you were right, though I would not want to think so ill of Caroline."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Of whom do you ever want to think ill? But tell me, Jane, what can you make of Mr. Darcy's behavior today?" She tried not to look overly interested in her sister's reply.

"He certainly has been very agreeable, very pleasant. He has been quite attentive to you, Lizzy. Do you think you can finally forgive him now for his initial slight?"

Elizabeth sighed. "You would ask it of me, would you not? Well, I will say that I have never been so tempted to do so before. Still, I cannot so easily forget his mistreatment of another." They talked of other matters, occasionally glancing at the gentlemen.

As soon as Mrs. Bennet returned, Mr. Bennet left the entertainment of their guests to his wife and retreated to the library. Bingley made the one request that could not fail to bring pleasure to all assembled.

"Mrs. Bennet, Darcy and I would be honoured if we might walk out with Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth for a few moments before the meal."

Mrs. Bennet smiled and flitted about. "Certainly, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy! Take all the time you like. Jane, Lizzy—come along, girls!" she called out as she motioned to them.

Pleased as she was with Bingley's marked attention to Jane and what was sure to result from it, Mrs. Bennet was by no means ready to forgive her second child. She felt as keenly as before the ruined prospect of having another daughter well married. As Elizabeth moved towards the table to put down her reticule and prayer book, her mother followed and took the opportunity to scold her. "Hurry, Lizzy! This is all for Jane and Mr. Bingley, you know. Don't keep Mr. Darcy waiting. He is being very civil to you, though you deserve no such attention after your treatment of Mr. Collins! I wish he had asked Kitty to walk out instead!" Mary was hardly in her mother's thoughts, and as for Lydia, it would never occur to Mrs. Bennet to suggest that her favourite daughter spend time with Mr. Darcy; after all, he might revert to his ill-natured behaviour at any moment for all she knew.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Bennet's voice carried over to the window where Darcy was standing. Darcy had heard the rumour that Collins was to inherit the Bennets' estate, and he had seen the clergyman's attentions to Elizabeth at the ball. He wondered whether Collins had gone so far as to make her an offer. If so, clearly she had rejected him. What other choice had she? But that certainly would have made her mother angry with her, for as a result of her refusal, the Bennets had lost their chance to secure Longbourn.

As he approached Elizabeth and offered his arm to her, Darcy held tightly to the shred of hope he had brought with him from London. He would need it now more than ever.



Charlotte sat quietly in Lucas Lodge, trying to ignore the noise around her as she sipped her tea and thought over the morning. The sermon had been nothing extraordinary, but she suspected that it was superior to what she would soon be subjected to on a weekly basis in Kent. She sighed. There would be trials to bear, mediocre sermons among the least of them; she had known that when she had set out to win Mr. Collins. Still, she was optimistic and looked forward to being mistress of her own home. It had been rather pleasant to receive the congratulations and good wishes of those who had heard about her engagement. Meanwhile, Lizzy spurns anyone who looks like he might have serious intentions toward her, that is, anyone who actually has the means to support her. Charlotte had noticed Mr. Darcy's behavior. She knew she had not imagined his attraction to her friend all those weeks ago. Charlotte could see Elizabeth's refusing Mr. Collins in spite of the entail, ill suited by disposition as her friend was to tolerate the man, and she could hardly complain, as Elizabeth's loss was her gain. But Mr. Darcy! If she passes him up on account of some insignificant officer with nothing but smiles and stories of his misfortunes, she is a great fool indeed. If being romantic made you blind to your own interest, Charlotte wanted no part of it.



Outside the house, Bingley and Jane engaged in desultory conversation and slowly made their way to the little copse just beyond the garden. They arrived after several minutes and stood still, regarding each other anxiously. Jane was too nervous to speak, but her delight shone in her eyes. Bingley was trying to remember the speech he had prepared, but now that the moment had come, he abandoned it.

"Miss Bennet, will you sit with me a moment?"

Jane seated herself on the bench and turned to face him, expecting him to sit next to her. Instead, he knelt down. He looked up at her with an amused expression which she thought made him look even more handsome. "When I imagined this moment, and I have done so many times, I never considered how cold my knee would feel on the ground like this." She laughed and covered her mouth with one hand. Bingley took her free hand in his. "Miss Bennet, may I call you Jane?" She nodded. His look became serious. "Jane, I have never met anyone like you. You are an angel, truly you are. Your beauty, your sweetness, your generous ways, your well-informed mind... Forgive me, I am not being very romantic, am I? I have never done this before and I never expect to do it again. Jane, I love you with all my heart, and if you can return that love, I ask you to consent to be my wife."

Jane's eyes brimmed with tears. She clasped Bingley's hand with both of hers. "Charles, I do love you. You are quite romantic enough for me." She laughed and cried together. "Yes, I will be your wife." Bingley brushed away her tears and rose to sit next to her on the bench. Then he held her face gently in his hands and kissed her soundly.



Chapter Seven

Darcy and Elizabeth walked in silence for the first few moments. He was thinking of how to begin.

She was wondering how long this good mood of his would last.

Elizabeth noticed that Bingley and Jane were moving at a slow pace and she supposed Darcy would find this additional time with her wearisome, though he had suggested it himself. She thought to put him out of his misery. "Mr. Darcy," she said as she drew her hand away from his arm, "you need not escort me for the duration of our walk. I believe you have paid more than adequate attention today to an obscure country gentleman's daughter."

She looked at him with a saucy grin in that teasing way to which he had become accustomed. This time, however, her remarks pained rather than diverted him, and he felt the loss of her touch. He wanted to take her hand and place it on his arm again. He replied, "Truly, Miss Elizabeth, it has been my very great pleasure to be in your company today."

Their eyes met and for once Elizabeth wondered whether Darcy looked at her with disdain or with another sentiment entirely. She nearly stumbled.

Darcy could not count on Bingley's remaining outside for an hour in December even for the pleasure of time alone with his intended, so he decided to come to the point. Turning to face her again, he said, "Miss Bennet, I fear we did not part on the best of terms last week. Indeed, I believe we have not been on the best of terms throughout our acquaintance, and I accept full blame. Please allow me to apologise for any thing I have said...any way in which I have offended you in the past." He paused before adding, "I am not at my best in a ballroom."

Elizabeth could not miss this reference to his comments at the Meryton assembly. Her face showed all the wonder she felt at his ability to form an apology with those lips, and such a gracious one at that. Not at his best in a ballroom? She had never before considered that he might be uncomfortable in a roomful of strangers, having to hear his name and fortune bandied about by all the mothers and daughters, no doubt. She quietly replied, "Apology accepted, Sir." Perhaps he was only being civil to her in light of Bingley and Jane's eventual marriage. Still, that would not have required such an apology as this.

The gentleman continued. "There is another topic I would like to discuss if I may. Shall we continue our walk or stop here?" He indicated a stone bench a few feet away, in view of the house.

"What is it you wish to talk about, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked, intrigued.

"Mr. Wickham."

Elizabeth had not expected him ever to introduce Wickham's name in conversation, certainly not alone with her. Her sentiments, from surprise to anger to curiosity to concern, registered on her face in quick succession. She sat down upon the bench, and not knowing which way to look, finally focused on her hands in her lap.

Darcy remained standing as he addressed Elizabeth. "For you to mention him during our dance, I must conclude that either you were very curious or he has said some unkind things about me. Whatever the case, I feel it necessary to answer the issue you raised of how he 'lost my friendship.' For we were indeed friends, almost like brothers, for many years. He is the son of my father's steward, and my father thought the world of both men. As we grew, I could not be deceived as to Wickham's true nature, but my father always saw his best side and continued to love him almost as a son. He paid for his education and included him in his will, even recommending that I assist him in his career and grant him a valuable living if he took orders. Wickham received one thousand pounds when my father died more than four years ago, but he came to me asking for more when his own father passed away soon afterward. He assured me he would not be taking orders. He had no interest in the living, then or in future. He wanted to study law, and he signed away all claims to assistance in the church in exchange for three thousand pounds."

"Three thousand pounds! That was very generous of you," Elizabeth could not help saying, suppressing a sense of alarm at how different Darcy's version of events might prove from what she had already heard. She did not want to believe it, but neither could she imagine Mr. Darcy concocting such a tale.

Darcy raised an eyebrow. "Wickham certainly did not think so, for when the living became vacant two years later, he demanded it repeatedly. Apparently he had lost or spent most of his four thousand pounds and had given up studying the law, that is, if he ever undertook it in the first place." Darcy turned away to get control of his anger. After a moment, he continued. He wanted her to know it all. "He also was heavily in debt, which did not surprise me. Unfortunately for him, by then I had grown weary of discharging his debts and making reparation for his...indiscretions. I refused to give in, and finally the requests stopped. I thought I was free of him. How wrong I was!"



Mr. Bennet watched from his library window as the scene unfolded in the garden. He was more alert than usual, perhaps due to the expectation that soon he would be giving his eldest child away in marriage. He could not be happier for Jane. He reckoned that she, who could bear almost anything, would have nothing worse to put up with than two conceited peahens for sisters-in-law and the dubious fortune of living only three miles away from her mother. Her husband would be a most pleasant fellow indeed, and her circumstances admirable. But a different lot entirely had fallen to Elizabeth. She was a strong young woman, but to be importuned by the two men in all of England whose society she least desired must wear on her. Mr. Collins had quit Hertfordshire just the day before, and now here was Mr. Darcy back from London, all courtesy and attention, rarely letting Lizzy out of his sight. He could not guess their current topic of conversation, but his daughter looked very uncomfortable. Neither of the two seemed to recall their duty as chaperones, but that did not signify. He looked at his watch before turning away from the window. He would give them a full half-hour, and then he would go out and relieve his favourite daughter of her burdensome company.



When Darcy began his account, Elizabeth doubted he could say anything to acquit himself of cruelty toward his former friend, but his explanation now seemed wholly reasonable. He was unaware of what Wickham had told her. He was simply responding to her comment at the ball, unlike Wickham, who had volunteered his information. Was it not fair to let Darcy have his say as well? She wondered, though, that he should go through the trouble to explain this to her. Why should he want to clear himself in her eyes? Apparently Jane was right, and there was more to the story—only Wickham's part in the business was sounding less and less satisfactory.

Elizabeth had heard enough to understand that she had judged Mr. Darcy too quickly and too harshly. She hastened to communicate this, for Mr. Darcy was pacing and looked ready to resume the narrative at any moment. With no small amount of embarrassment, she stood and said to him, "I thank you, Mr. Darcy, for relating the particulars to me. You have answered any question I might have. I see that I have misjudged the situation. You need trouble yourself no further." She was visibly flustered now.

"Elizabeth!" Darcy closed the gap between them. Her obvious discomfort distressed him, and he had whispered her name before he was aware of it. He was about to brush her cheek with his fingers when he caught himself, his outstretched falling quickly to his side. He could not look at her just yet. "Pardon me. Miss Bennet, I am sorry to cause you any uneasiness, but there is more I would tell you. Please bear with me a little longer." He stepped back and glanced at her.

Elizabeth needed no further proof but nodded her consent.

"My sister, Georgiana, went to Ramsgate last summer. When she had been there some weeks, I surprised her with a visit. What I found shocked me deeply. In that short time she had been persuaded to elope with our old family friend. They were to be off to Scotland in a day or two. She was—is—but fifteen! When Georgiana saw me, she could not keep her secret, thank God! She thought I would be delighted to hear it. She saw only good in Wickham; she did not know what sort of man he was. He wanted her fortune of thirty thousand pounds, of course. It so happened that her companion at the time, Mrs. Younge, knew Wickham, and it was with that woman's assistance that he had imposed upon my sister. When he realised his plan was thwarted, he left the area immediately. You were there when I saw him next, not many months later, on the road in Meryton. He looked quite cheerful, not at all like a man recently disappointed in love." He practically spat this last statement. Darcy's expression held all the pain of betrayal that had been lacking in Wickham's countenance during the latter's ready account of his misfortunes.

Elizabeth's face paled at hearing this most serious allegation against her favourite officer. No, she thought, not at all, recalling his charming smiles and pleasant conversation when Bingley and Darcy came upon them that day, and his particular attention to herself the following evening. She could not credit that a man so close to marrying another would be flirting with her and welcoming the attentions of ladies throughout the neighbourhood in a matter of months. 'She is nothing to me now.' She recalled Wickham's cold words regarding Miss Darcy, his description of her as very proud, and all the while the poor girl had been suffering heartbreak at his hands. Had Darcy not been standing there in front of her, she would have wept tears of mortification. There was no question of the veracity of this man's words. From what she knew of Darcy, he leant towards being too honest. She had never seen evidence of him being deceitful or immoral. Bingley had vouched for his character at the ball. And Darcy always spoke fondly of his sister. He would not have fabricated such a tale about her. The man with the more damaging story to tell had done so at great pain to himself and only after practically having been accused to his face. Elizabeth was thoroughly ashamed of herself for having been taken in by Wickham, for having given so much weight to the words of a complete stranger. She recalled that Wickham himself had said he would not disgrace the Darcy name out of respect for his godfather, yet had he not done just that in telling his story to her? And he had not even been able to face Darcy at the Netherfield ball, though he had insisted he was not afraid of him.

Darcy watched Elizabeth intently as she absorbed his information. It was impossible for him to be comfortable, but he felt a sense of relief that he had unburdened himself to her. Perhaps she would reconsider her opinion of him in light of everything he had shared. He added a final remark. "Miss Bennet, I must ask that you keep the particulars regarding my sister as much as possible to yourself, but I thought it important for you to have this knowledge at your disposal. Wickham has such pleasing manners that young ladies see no reason to question the honour of his intentions."

Elizabeth heard both the warning and the pardon in his words. It was amazing that he should not hold anything against her. She had to respond to such generosity. "Mr. Darcy, after hearing all this, I am surprised that you should want to speak to me at all! I must have offended you terribly by mentioning his name to you last week. I had no idea it could have so many painful associations. Please accept my apologies." She looked in awe at this man before her.

In the distance they could see Jane and Bingley returning. Darcy smiled broadly. "It seems we shall have a happier subject to discuss very shortly," he told her. Elizabeth was still too overcome to spare much thought for her sister and her lover. Darcy offered his arm to her. She was glad of his support as they walked towards the other couple. "Miss Bennet," he said with feeling, "I thank you sincerely for your patience with me today. The last half hour had its difficult moments, but other than any pain it gave you, I would not change it for the world. It was more than I could wish for." He placed his hand over hers for a moment and pressed it lightly.

Elizabeth felt his closeness acutely. This, along with the day's revelations, threatened to overwhelm her. She was saved from making a fool of herself and bringing on unwelcome questions from her companions, however, by her sister's actions as the couples neared one another. Jane, her face radiant, broke away from Bingley and rushed to embrace her sister. Darcy took the opportunity to congratulate his friend. Elizabeth was grateful for the timing of the others' appearance for more than one reason: it put a little space between herself and the man who had so profoundly affected her, and it allowed her tears of anguish to mingle with those of joy for her sister's well-deserved happiness.

When the foursome returned to the house, Jane informed her mother while Mr. Bingley sought an interview with Mr. Bennet. Mrs. Bennet's raptures were heard throughout the house; she would have ridden out in the carriage that moment to spread the news throughout Meryton if luncheon had not been prepared. The younger Bennets' congratulations were a little less noisy. The two men returned from the library, and in a very few minutes all were seated at table. This meal promised to be everything breakfast that morning was not.



"My dear, she will have to stay with us. She has no other option."

"Hmm. I do not see that. Why can she not return to her brother's house?"

"I cannot go into the particulars. It is a rather sensitive matter. Let me just say that, assuming Charles goes through with his plans, the future Mrs. Bingley may not be so kindly disposed toward Caroline presently, and I fear the situation may worsen before the week is out. We simply cannot assume my sister will be welcome at Netherfield."

Mr. Hurst could believe that his sister-in-law had finally gone too far. She must have written the Bennet girl. How else could Caroline have caused such trouble in Hertfordshire from her position here in London?

Hurst's protest, though sincere, was a mere formality. He knew he would have no peace if he refused. Besides, Caroline truly must be in a pitiable state if she had said or done something Bingley would not forgive. He and Louisa already spent more than half the year in Caroline's company. What difference would a few more months make?

There was no point in prolonging the inevitable. "I still do not understand why it must be so, but I will leave it to you to sort out, Louisa."

Mrs. Hurst's relief was visible as she thanked her husband. He grunted in reply.



Chapter Eight

During luncheon, Mr. Bennet decided to take a step towards solving the day's riddle. The two principals were conveniently seated to his right and left. As Darcy seemed to hold the key to it all, he began with the gentleman. "Mr. Darcy, I hope it was not too burdensome a task providing chaperonage for our happy couple." He grinned, nodding in the direction of Bingley and Jane, who were at the other end of the table on either side of Mrs. Bennet. Returning his attention to Darcy, he asked, "Did my daughter keep you suitably entertained?" He would swear that he saw the young man blush.

Darcy answered composedly, "Miss Elizabeth was very pleasant company, I assure you. I cannot hope, however, that the same can be said of her companion. I selfishly distracted her from our duty in order to have some conversation. I am afraid I sorely tried her patience and good humour and must beg her forgiveness." He said this last part with a tender glance at her.

Mr. Bennet was intrigued, and recalling his daughter's discomfort earlier, he persisted. "Well, Lizzy, what is your opinion? Was the conversation as tiresome as Mr. Darcy claims? Is the young man to be forgiven?" He regarded her closely.

His daughter looked rather ashamed and blushed crimson as she addressed her father. "There is nothing to forgive, Papa. Mr. Darcy is being very kind. The conversation was...enlightening. I can find no fault with my company today." Elizabeth could only look down at her plate.

On an ordinary day, Mr. Bennet would have been satisfied to tease her further on the subject or just to smile in amusement. Today he grew more thoughtful and mulled over the evidence as he ate. He looked at his eldest daughter and her betrothed. Jane and Bingley's courtship had been so straightforward, Jane's illness at Netherfield notwithstanding: they met, they danced, they talked, they fell in love, he proposed, she accepted. Now, why could not his Lizzy have it as simple as that? He looked at his daughter, who seemingly had managed to make Collins, Wickham, and now Darcy, if his eyes and ears were to be trusted, members of the same club. He thought it wise to pay closer attention to the interest Elizabeth inspired in such different men. Granted, Collins was no longer an object. Thankfully, he had gone in search of easier prey. Wickham certainly was interested, but Mr. Bennet could not tell to what end. The man was winsome, so easy to like. But with limited prospects on his part and barely any dowry on Elizabeth's, he could not have any serious intentions regarding her. Why, then, would he single her out and take her into his confidence? Elizabeth had shared with him the particulars of the man's hardships after his visit a few days before.

And here, sitting to his left, was the most inconceivable yet the most promising prospect of all. Darcy, who had refused to acknowledge his daughter's beauty at the beginning of their acquaintance, who had inspired in her a most violent dislike with his proud manner, who was so far above her in wealth and position that he surely must consider her beneath his notice, sat complacently across from her, causing her to blush in response to his stolen glances. Here was a man with no connection to their family, no need to gain friends by inviting their sympathy, no reason to be where he did not want to be. It was as if he had come in this morning and decided to be content here with Lizzy, and he was, just like that. Perhaps they had truly worked out their differences in the garden. He watched the two narrowly while maintaining light conversation with Darcy about his estate in Derbyshire. After a few minutes, Mr. Bennet's eyes widened a moment and nearly misted over at the thought that occurred to him. He could not fathom it, but it did appear that he could be just as close to losing his Lizzy as he was to losing Jane. He had not even seen it coming.



Following lunch, the gentlemen joined Mr. Bennet in his library. The small party dispersed several minutes later when the host was called away by a servant to attend to a pressing matter. Bingley took the opportunity to seek out Jane's company.



Darcy stayed behind and perused the bookshelves. The day had exceeded his expectations, and it was not yet over. Elizabeth has listened to him without arguing, had accepted his escort more than once, and had sat through an entire meal across from him without making a single derisive comment at his expense. He wondered how long it would last and whether they would be friends once she was over the shock and began behaving more like herself. Friends? Ha! But one must start somewhere. He might manage to get still more time with her before returning to Netherfield. Bingley would not wish to leave Miss Bennet for some hours yet; that would give him an opportunity, surely. If nothing materialised, he could steal a moment when they parted and ask permission to call on her again tomorrow.



Elizabeth had gone to her room for some minutes of solitary reflection after the meal. She had been able to calm herself during lunch since she had not been required to contribute much to the conversation. Her mother and younger sisters had talked cheerfully with the newly engaged couple and with each other. At her end of the table Mr. Darcy and her father had been rather quiet in comparison. Still, she had found it impossible to sort out her feelings while sitting across from the gentleman. She certainly did not hate him or even dislike him anymore. After all, he had apologised for or explained away many of the reasons she had had for thinking ill of him, and his altered manners made up for the rest. The problem was that she did not know what she felt. She thought that it would be logical to exchange opinions of Darcy and Wickham, but that was not quite satisfactory. She did not hate Wickham; she just thought he was a pitiful excuse for a man, and she was angry at him for his deceitful words to her and his scandalous behaviour towards Miss Darcy. She had not forgotten Mr. Darcy's mention of "indiscretions," and she wondered how many other young ladies had been injured by Wickham.

As for Darcy, she could not say that he had merely been elevated to Wickham's former position in her esteem. She had been indulging in an infatuation with the latter, the strength of which could not compare with what she was beginning to feel for the former. She now saw that Mr. Wickham's attractiveness, while considerable, had increased tremendously because of what he had related of Mr. Darcy. Had it been any other man who had purportedly wronged him, she could not say that her indignation would have been as strong as it was.

How she should behave toward Mr. Darcy now was an issue she wanted to resolve before returning downstairs. She had been drawn to him even while his manners had disgusted her. She had not been afraid of him, not after his insult, not during their arguments. She realised now that she had always had a respect for his mind; he was clearly intelligent and well educated. And while she often had not agreed with the substance of his convictions, she had admired his strong defence of them. It was clear he felt deeply. She had been amused at his efforts to evade Miss Bingley's oppressive attentions and the restraint he showed, no doubt out of respect for his friend. Today his initiative, combined with his unexpected tenderness and concern for her welfare, had impressed her. She found him hard to ignore, especially now that she knew his goodness was not restricted to his looks. She pictured his confident gait, his stately profile, his beautifully expressive eyes. She had seen those eyes focused on her so many times and had read contempt in them. Had he changed, or had she merely been wrong? He had not looked at her with contempt as they walked to church, or in the garden, or as they ate together. She thought of his chin, impeccably shaven. She wondered what it would be like to stroke it, to touch his cheek as he had tried to touch hers earlier. I had forgotten about that. He said my name! She thought of the mouth that poured forth such difficult and utterly remarkable words, that broke into such smiles as she had never seen on his face before, smiles directed at her. She folded her arms around herself.

Could he want more than her friendship? Was it even possible? What of Miss de Bourgh? She recalled the source of this piece of information and found herself hoping fervently that it was just such another of Wickham's falsehoods. There was a great chance of that being the case, and, obviously, Mr. Darcy could not be actually engaged. Surely Miss Bingley would not seek his attention so aggressively if there were a formal agreement in place! Elizabeth felt relieved, then ashamed for feeling so.

"But why do I care?" she wondered aloud. "Oh, how can I be so unreasonable? I cannot possibly hate a man in the morning and love him by the afternoon! What has happened to me?"

She peered into her glass, but the young woman staring back at her gave her no answers. "I look like the same Elizabeth," she whispered to her reflection. "If I could only talk to Jane! But her mind is full of Mr. Bingley, as it should be. I am so happy for her!"

It suddenly occurred to her that her father might now be at leisure. She left the room in the hope that he could talk some sense into her or, at the very least, distract her from her musings.



Chapters Nine through Eleven

2 comments:

  1. Don't know if this will

    I have finished your story, and I loved it! Your writing style is wonderful, appropriate to the piece without be stilted or "haughty". I think, after being seriously obsessed with these 'prequels, sequels, variations, etc.' to have the pleasure of your concept: What if.... Charles had a backbone and just a bit of intuition. So simple a premise yet so fulfilling. Of course like any trial, one must first suffer the agonies of the original to appreciate hindsight. Beautifully done. Thank you. Sheryl

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  2. Thank you, Sheryl! Glad you stopped by to read.

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