A Little Night Musing:A Netherfield Short

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(2022)
Pride and Prejudice
Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy settle one of their arguments at Netherfield by moonlight.

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Elizabeth stood in Netherfield's dark, empty drawing-room, wondering at herself. She ought to have gone up to her room before the last candle went out, but her mind was not at rest.

She was no longer worried about her sister's health. Jane was asleep and would be well enough to return home in the morning. Elizabeth's unease stemmed from another source. Had she been in company with more congenial people these last few days and not been goaded into quarreling every evening, she might feel more settled. Once at Longbourn again, she would be content enough. So she hoped, in any case, as she stared at what remained of the fire.

It was strange, this restlessness. It had been strong enough to draw her back to the scene of its beginnings: yet another argument with Mr. Darcy. Miss Bingley might say any thing she pleased, and Elizabeth would reply in kind and find herself unaffected or even amused. The Hursts, whose disdain most often took the form of neglect, required little from her. Mr. Darcy, however, was another matter. Talking to him was like playing a chord that wanted resolution, like singing all but the last note of a song. Something always seemed to hang in the air. She could not leave well enough alone when it came to him, and it irritated her that he had had the last word in their latest skirmish.

She decided to think instead on the benefits of her stay at the grand manor house. How sweet a domestic picture her sister and Mr. Bingley had made this evening, engrossed in their conversation, oblivious to their surroundings! They were a perfect pair. It did her heart good to see Jane so happy.

Miss Bingley interrupted her contemplation by peeking into the room and saying, “Oh, there you....Hmph.” Elizabeth thought her rather rude until she realised Miss Bingley had not looked her way and therefore probably had not noticed her. She supposed her hostess had come hoping to find a certain person and, being disappointed, had left.

Elizabeth heard tapping beyond the door and retreated into the shadows. She hoped Miss Bingley was not returning. Surely not, for she could now hear the lady instructing a servant in one of the nearby rooms. Had the footsteps been less tentative—less furtive, perhaps—and more regular in their rhythm, she would have sworn they were Mr. Darcy's.

The door opened and closed, and her eyes met the tall form of a man as he approached the window. The steps had been Mr. Darcy's, worse luck. She must have made a sound, for he suddenly turned and saw her, but before he could speak, more steps were heard, quick and light, outside the room.

Mr. Darcy positioned himself among the heavy draperies, presumably to keep his presence from being noticed by the next person to enter. Elizabeth smirked and said nothing.

It was only one of the maids, who had come to extinguish the fire. She rushed in and out again, focused only on her task. Miss Bingley's voice was heard once more, this time farther away, from the direction of the stairs.

By unspoken agreement, the two occupants of the room remained motionless until they no longer heard any sound in the hall.

Elizabeth was just wondering how she might safely navigate the path to the door in the dark when a pale but sufficient light removed her difficulty. She stepped forward.

“Lovely, is it not?” Mr. Darcy's voice was pitched at a low, intimate tone that, despite its maturity, put her in mind of a child who did not wish his nurse to realise he had no intention of going to sleep just yet.

Elizabeth turned towards the man, who was now peering through the parted curtains into the night.

“There is something about the moon,” he continued, “so far away and yet so very large and indispensable, that makes me feel my smallness.”

His words reminded Elizabeth of a phrase she had heard not many days ago at Longbourn. She stepped closer until she stood next to him and looked out as well. The words came to her: “When I consider Thy heavens...the moon and the stars...what is man, that Thou art mindful of him?”

“Exactly.”

She slid her eyes to Mr. Darcy's to find him regarding her with interest. “My sister Mary is fond of quoting extracts from the sacred text and her collection of sermons. Occasionally one stays with me, though I have not admitted as much to her.”

He nodded and faced the window again.

It was her turn to regard him with interest, comfortably done while his attention was elsewhere. He was a handsome subject of study, even more so now that he was smiling. She thought about what he had said. It had seemed an odd thing to confide in her, but she never knew why he said the things he did. “I suppose a man of your stature does not often feel small,” she said. “It must be an unwelcome feeling.”

“On the contrary, sometimes I feel that I take up too much space.”

The sentiment did not fit her idea of him at all. “I can hardly believe that of a man who does not consider an excess of pride to be a fault,” she said.

His laugh was a quiet, delectable rumble that made her want to wrap her arms about herself. “You persist in misunderstanding me,” he said.

“You admitted to pride yourself this very evening! How can you claim I have misunderstood you?”

“As I recall it, I implied that pride under good regulation is not a weakness.”

“Exactly!” she said, deliberately choosing to repeat the word he had used. She smiled at how easy the man made it to laugh at him. “Only a person eaten up with pride could make such a statement.” She had not intended to be so frank, but he would provoke her.

He turned to her fully. “I take back what I said. You are determined not to misunderstand but to misconstrue.”

Elizabeth hardly needed his confession to know he was full of conceit. She looked boldly into his eyes. He looked every inch a man completely convinced of the rightness of his opinions, but she was not intimidated. For weeks now, from the very beginning of their acquaintance, he had been looking at her with a critical eye, and she had grown accustomed to it.

“Or perhaps you aim to score a point against me,” he said. He looked at her with an eyebrow raised and his head tilted. “If your beautiful eyes did not sparkle so beguilingly with each hit, I would not find half so much pleasure in this game.” He smiled broadly. “Do tell me, Miss Bennet, are we ever to be on the same side? Must we always be in competition in your mind? You must know I find you a delightful partner for debate, but it would be pleasant to end the day in agreement for once.”

His speech took her by surprise. She could scarcely believe his last several words echoed her earlier thoughts so closely. The disagreeable man was also weary of their constant disagreements! Of the rest, she did not know what to think. She was astonished that he should compliment her and speak to her so...well, so flirtatiously, as if he liked her!

“What, Miss Bennet? Have you nothing to say in reply?”

“I can hardly credit what you say.”

“Why ever not?

“When you first came into the neighbourhood, I heard from your own mouth that I was just tolerable, not handsome enough to tempt you to dance. Now you say I have beautiful eyes, and you speak as though I am trying to tempt you. Utterly ridiculous!”

She watched him breathe. It should have been a crime for the man to be so physically compelling while doing nothing but breathing.

“Did I not, this very evening, confess to admiring your figure?”

She had quite forgotten that was how the evening's quarrel had begun. “That remark was a general one,” she said, recalling the moment and thinking aloud, “as it included Miss Bingley.”

Mr. Darcy made a quiet sound, a small, derisive laugh. “When,” he asked her, “have you observed me to go out of my way to compliment Miss Bingley, or to treat her as more than the sister of my friend? She would read far too much into any particular gesture, and I should not like to give her false hope. My remark was not general, no matter how it appeared, and it was inspired by you. Miss Bingley only caught my attention because she was with you. In fact, I am convinced that is why she was with you. She would have known I could hardly keep my eyes away. I once betrayed my admiration of you to her, unwisely as it turns out, for she has teased me about it ever since.”

“You are serious?”

The haughty look was back. “I am not in the habit of lying.”

“How funny that Miss Bingley should have known what I did not.”

“I never intended—” He stopped there, and the silence stretched on for several seconds.

“You never intended for me to find out,” Elizabeth whispered. “You never intended to act upon your admiration,” she surmised, and she found confirmation in his lowered eyes. She nodded to herself. “I imagine my insignificant dowry is not tempting enough, either. Or perhaps it is my less than stellar connections? I am sure you know that one of my uncles is a local attorney, and the other is in trade.”

“It is not merely your family's position in society but, more importantly, their behaviour that I find objectionable. With the exception of yourself and your eldest sister, of course,” he murmured. He had turned towards the moon again and was not looking so comfortable as he had before.

This time the short, mocking laugh came from Elizabeth. “So the...silliness, shall we say, of some of my family offends you as much as your arrogance offends me.” She saw him stiffen. For her part, she inwardly recoiled from the still-fresh embarrassment that assailed her at the recollection of her mother and younger sisters' visit to Netherfield the day before. She had tried at the time to temper the worst of her mother's excesses. Her mother had admonished her not to run wild on that occasion, and here was Mr. Darcy claiming to admire her while presumably disparaging her mother. What irony.

Elizabeth remembered that Mr. Darcy had excepted Jane from his strictures as well; that was something, but hardly enough. She wondered if he had ever admired Jane, who was certainly more beautiful and amiable than Elizabeth, but she had seen no evidence of it. She allowed the loveliness of the night to calm her spirits so that calmness might be reflected in her speech. “I suppose I should be flattered—I suppose part of me is flattered—that you did not take a fancy to Jane instead,” she admitted. “Or perhaps you did at first, but your friend was there before you? You may yet have some gentleman-like impulses where your intimate friends are concerned. In any case, it is fortunate neither of you took a fancy to the other. The object of her admiration is not so fastidious. If Mr. Bingley were to take your view, Jane would be heartbroken. No, you have chosen well. Your public and very decided disapproval of me some weeks ago ensured that I can have no hopes for you to disappoint.” She ought not to have disclosed such personal matters, but so much had already been shared that there was little point in holding back.

It appeared this time that Mr. Darcy had no reply to offer.

She had had the last word. She ought to be satisfied, but she was not.

She could feel him thinking. She had no idea what he was thinking, of course, but she sensed that he had not just dismissed her words out of hand. He was considering them and considering what he might say, whether there could be anything worth saying. As before, something hung in the air between them.

She had been watching him, so she knew it the moment he heard the sound. He looked towards the room and then at her, and he closed the curtain carefully around them to shield them from view. By that time, she had heard it too. Within seconds, she was caught in an improvised embrace.

She understood at once what he did. With his arm extended between them and the curtain such that they were pressed against the window as well as each other, the fabric was pushed forward only a little. The slight change in shape might go unnoticed in the dark, whereas a pair of bulging silhouettes might catch the eye of a casual searcher.

“He must be here.” Elizabeth thought the door must be open at least a little, for Miss Bingley's voice was very clear.

“Caroline! This is ridiculous! Do you want him to start hiding from you in earnest?” And that was Mrs. Hurst.

“I think his man lied to me.”

“If you start chasing him about the house at night, do not be surprised if he instructs his man to misdirect you. See?” The door was definitely open now. “It is perfectly dark and empty.”

“Oh, very well,” Miss Bingley said. “But he was not in the library or in Charles's study.”

“I would not be shocked to find him in the wine cellar. You will drive the man to drink if you keep up this unseemly pursuit. I have told you again and again: let him pursue you.”

“You are one to talk! You pay him almost as much attention as I do.”

The door closed again, and the voices receded. Soon all was quiet except their breathing. Mr. Darcy's arm had relaxed, and he held her more naturally now.

“I had not anticipated a game of hide-and-seek when I entered this room tonight,” Elizabeth said from her place under his chin, trying to keep her voice even and light. She felt too many different things to name, but first and foremost was that she felt far too comfortable to move out of his arms.

“Forgive me,” he whispered over her head, “for taking up too much space.”

“You did what you must to avoid an unpleasant and embarrassing encounter.”

“That is not what I meant, though I ask your forgiveness for that as well.” He moved back far enough to look into her eyes, but he did not release her. “My views and feelings took up too much space. I was concerned only with myself. I did not make room for your feelings and opinions. Nor did I fully consider the impact of my words and behaviour. It was unkind of me.” He looked away. “It was also a stupid thing to do, considering how well I have learnt from our discussions to value your mind.”

The quiet was exquisite. She looked her fill and thought over his surprising words. Perhaps he had gotten his pride under good regulation after all, or perhaps he really had no improper pride. There was humility behind that confident demeanour he presented to the world. He did not consider himself above correction.

“Do you?” His words broke the thrall. He was staring at her.

“Do I what?”

“Do you forgive me?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. That is very fortunate.”

She could not imagine what difference her forgiveness would truly make in his life, though she had to admit the brilliant smile he now wore was an appealing consequence of it. “Why,” she asked, “is it fortunate?”

He laughed nervously. “I am half afraid you will leave if I tell you.”

“I may as well hear you out.”

“If you had not forgiven my earlier offences, you would never forgive this.”

He leant forward, and Elizabeth gasped at the brief sensation of his mouth touching hers.

He looked at her intently for a moment. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, for his lips met hers again, and he cradled her face in his hands.

Even in the midst of such pleasurable activity, after some time had passed, Elizabeth's curiosity got the better of her. “Mr. Darcy,” she said, putting a little space between them.

He looked pained. “I have offended you again.”

“No, no,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek to keep him from turning his face away. “I just want to know what changed. What was it? Or did you not intend to kiss me any more than to reveal your admiration?”

He kissed her once more and then turned her in his arms until her back was to him and they faced the window. “You heard them, Miss Bingley and her sister. There are so many ladies like them: pursue and keep pursuing until you are caught. Some are worse. I would not join a house party with certain women in attendance. Then there are those who show no interest themselves but take the man's interest as their due. Others seem willing to accept any sort of match as long as the man is good enough, and they are not so nice about what constitutes a 'good' man. You are different. You would not only require your husband to be a good man, you would expect him to become a better one if he ought. You would care about the man himself.”

With the kissing and the mention of a husband, Elizabeth wondered if she had just received a rather unconventional marriage proposal.

“I should have taken a turn about the room with you before. Your figure is even more admirable up close.” He snuggled up to her. “But it is cold here. We should not stay long.”

They exchanged few words after that, enough to arrange a discreet exit from the room and a private meeting the next day.

Elizabeth, with her hand in Darcy's, took a parting glance at the window that had framed what henceforth must be considered one of the most important events of her life. The event had not gone according to plan; in fact, it had not been planned at all.

And if, because of this, it was not quite the picture of perfection—though they were perfectly happy with the result—what cared they, with only the moon to witness?