Mrs. Bingley’s Sister (The Austen Novels)

Chapter 1

December 1819

Pemberley Estate

Derbyshire

"We're here, mama! Lizzy, look! Pem-ley!" No one in the carriage could ignore the noise of the younger Bingleys—little Jack was excited to be staying at "Pem-ley," as he called it, being only three, and baby Janie was crying, being merely a one-year-old infant with little understanding to why they were trapped inside a carriage for so long.

"It's called Pemberley , not Pem-ley, " seven-year-old Lizzy corrected rather sternly. Mrs. Bingley gave her daughter a look.

"Lizzy, you need not talk to your baby brother that way," she said gently, "He is only three."

Mrs. Bingley's sister, Elizabeth, watched as Lizzy opened her mouth to retort.

"Lizzy," Elizabeth said quickly, before the girl could make any heated response to her mother, "Are you not excited to see Pemberley, as well?"

Lizzy looked at her aunt and nodded, smiling brightly. This seemed to calm down the carriage somewhat, though baby Janie was still crying. Elizabeth glanced over and noted young Charlie was still asleep.

"How he is sleeping through all this noise is quite the wonder," Elizabeth remarked to Jane, nodding at him. Jane shook her head and laughed.

"He is like his father in that," Jane replied, "Mr. Bingley can sleep through most anything."

Pretty soon the carriage came to a stop before the grand estate that was Pemberley. Bingley had gone ahead on the journey with his valet and the lady's maids, leaving Jane, Elizabeth, and Nan with the four children in one carriage. Lizzy was seven, Charlie five, Jack three, and little Janie one, having had her first birthday only in October.

Elizabeth had a special fondness for young Lizzy, because the little girl was not only her namesake, but also her goddaughter. Jane had chosen Elizabeth and their other sister Mary to be Lizzy's godmothers, and Bingley had chosen none other than Darcy to be the godfather. Elizabeth closed her eyes a moment, remembering exactly how things had went at Lizzy's christening, the first time Elizabeth had seen Darcy again since Hunsford...

November 1812

Longbourn Estate

Hertfordshire

Elizabeth had dreaded his arrival, and now here she was, sitting across from Darcy himself in Longbourn's sitting room, waiting on dinner. Mrs. Bennet fancied herself to be regaling everyone with some loud, embarrassing story of hers; Mr. Bennet was doing a vanishing act off to the side as he very subtly disappeared out of the room; and everyone else—Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty, Jane, Bingley, and Darcy—were sitting around awkwardly together, fidgeting and silently anticipating the meal. Elizabeth felt herself to be almost sweating out of pure nervousness. This was the first she had seen Darcy in seven months, since that April day in Hunsford, when he handed over a letter the morning after a most astonishing event—his proposal of marriage.

He had come to the parsonage in Hunsford last spring while she was staying with her friend Charlotte, just a few months after Jane had married Bingley. Darcy surprised her immensely by asking Elizabeth to marry him, speaking with every clear expectation that she would accept . He told her how he ardently admired and loved her. He spoke of her low place in society, her family's impropriety, their want of connections. He spoke of the great difficulty with which he had overcome these objections.

She began to say no. He interrupted her and demanded to know why . She pointed out how ungraciously he made his case, in regard to her family. She said to him, “ I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”

It always made Elizabeth grimace with pain to recollect how she spoke to him.

Back then, she had been quite convinced that Darcy was a pretentious and arrogant man, a very ungracious man who cared little for the feelings of others. She had heard all about how poorly Darcy treated Wickham, who was the godson of the late Mr. Darcy, and in Darcy's jealousy over Wickham being loved like a son by his late father, he denied Wickham the living as was promised in old Mr. Darcy's will! And thus, Wickham was thrown out into the hedgerows, having to stoop to the lowly life of enlisting in a local militia regiment to survive.

Further, there was that very first impression Darcy made on Elizabeth: when he took one look at her at the Meryton assembly and dismissed her entirely, saying, “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me, and I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. ”

She had never forgotten his hideous rudeness last spring, even if he somehow had. So when Darcy proposed to Elizabeth, she knew she detested the man. They both became angry. They argued. He left.

Then the next morning he confronted her as she was taking her regular walk, and he handed her a letter—men and woman who did not have an understanding were not supposed to engage in letter writing, but so shocked she was to see him, she took it anyway. She read it as soon as he was gone.

The letter told her the truth of the matter regarding Wickham, and Elizabeth soon realized she had been completely lied to. She was enlightened with a rather horrid story about Darcy's sister being preyed upon at Ramsgate by the man, and Darcy's final sign off of God bless you made her feel abysmal.

She had been such a fool.

And so she read his letter, and she reread his letter, continuing this pattern until the paper was completely smudged up, but the words completely memorized. God bless you the letter had ended.

Elizabeth knew she didn't deserve such a salutation.

After reading it, she knew she wanted to speak to him, but nary a chance had arrived. He departed Kent that very morning, and she never saw him again. Her summer was as eventful as it could have been: she visited the lake country with her aunt and uncle Gardiner, a pleasant journey in itself—only marred by her own melancholy, of course. It wasn't until after she arrived home that she discovered the ruinous story of her sister: Lydia had married none other than Wickham himself!

Or rather, she had run away with the scoundrel, nearly bringing the Bennet family to complete ruin. Jane confided this in Elizabeth, telling her the truth of that matter: Lydia ran off with Wickham from Brighton, and Bingley had to assist Mr. Bennet in finding them. Bingley apparently made Wickham a great financial offer he couldn't refuse, and that was the only reason he married Lydia.

Elizabeth had been so enraged, and she couldn't help but think of Darcy and his young sister Georgiana.

"Why, he nearly did the same with Miss Darcy last year!" she had exclaimed in frustration, "but that young girl was an heiress. Lydia has hardly a dowry to speak of. I am so astounded at the man's wickedness, but then again, I suppose I shouldn't be."

She felt horrible that Bingley had to pay the man some inordinate amount of money—Jane wasn't sure how much, exactly—and she was completely mortified, too. She couldn't help but wonder what Darcy had thought when he heard about her sister becoming Mrs. Wickham. The thought made her stomach churn. Oh, the irony. Perhaps Darcy was glad he never married her after all, as he would have had to call a slimy man like Wickham his brother.

And now here they stood, in the same room at Longbourn months later, after the joyous birth of Jane's first child, a little girl, and Elizabeth was to be named one of the child's godparents, along with her sister Mary and none other than Darcy.

Godparents...with Darcy!

Elizabeth had blushed upon learning this, of course. She had thought many times of Darcy before. She knew his letter by heart, having long since realized that the man was not the person she thought he was. She deeply regretted fighting with him last April, and she wished to apologize for her cruel behavior toward him. But now that the opportunity might present itself, she felt unsure of what to do. So she merely cast her eyes downward to avoid staring at the man, because surely he must have despised her now. She didn't want to see his look of derision, if he dared look at her at all.

He must have believed her to be the greatest fool.

Dinner was called, and they all gathered around. To Elizabeth's horror, she was seated next to him. Mrs. Bennet whispered to her rather loudly, "I do apologize for the placement dearest; he's a dour man, to be sure, but you'll make do."

Elizabeth reddened, hoping he hadn't overheard her mother. It would not be the first time her mother had mortified her in front of him though, as she thought back to the Netherfield ball and her mother's total want of propriety then. He saw all of that, and yet he still desired to marry her. It was truly unthinkable, and Elizabeth couldn't help but ponder what a mistake she probably made in refusing him.

And now, to her mortification, she had to somehow sit beside him at dinner and act as if nothing significant ever happened between them.

Dinner was served, and Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in her seat for a moment before taking a breath and turning to address him.

"I do hope your travels were without hardship, Mr. Darcy," she said slowly, keeping her eyes down and avoiding his look—if he even looked at her at all, that is.

She heard him clear his throat.

"Indeed, it was not a difficult journey," he answered, "though there are certainly easier times of year to travel."

She reflexively made a polite smile, but still gazed down into her plate as she said jokingly, "Mr. and Mrs. Bingley chose a most inconvenient time of year to be blessed with a child, I should say!"

Her words were meant lightly, but she immediately cringed upon their uttering. She felt as if it sounded like an insult. She opened her mouth to correct her error, but he spoke before she had a chance.

"I have no issue being here for the christening," he said in a rather clipped tone, making Elizabeth wince, "I consider it an honor and a privilege to have been named the child's godfather."

Elizabeth sucked in a breath and then let it out, anxious.

"I beg your pardon, sir,” she said softly, “I was merely attempting to jest, but I realized the effort was rather poorly done as soon as it was made..."

She trailed off, still not looking at him, her face now burning with embarrassment. Oh, what a foot to get off on. She hadn't seen the man since she last insulted him, and now she managed to insult him within the first five minutes of conversation. He didn't answer for a moment, and Elizabeth began to believe that perhaps he would no longer speak with her.

But, then, to her surprise—

"Forgive me for taking offense," he uttered quietly, "It would seem I did not easily catch your tone of conversation."

Elizabeth remembered how he used those words before last April, when he professed his discomfort in speaking with strangers— “ I certainly have not the talent which some people possess, of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done” —and she grimaced to herself to realize that, though he once proposed marriage to her, she was little more than a stranger to him now.

She finally glanced over at him, and she regretted doing so, for he was undeniably handsome, even if his look was stern and serious. He wasn't looking at her at all, merely picking at the food on his plate, focused on the task before him, and she watched him for a moment before he glanced up and caught her eye. She looked back down quickly and started to eat, and they said very little after that beyond the small polite utterances that people say at the dinner table.

Before long, dinner was concluded, and the Bingleys, Elizabeth, and Darcy all departed Longbourn back to Netherfield Park in the same carriage. Elizabeth was dreading the carriage ride back to Netherfield, briefly making an irrational wish that she could just stay in her old room at Longbourn—but it was a silly notion, as all her belongings were at Netherfield, her home now for many months past.

The Bingleys were her family now; Jane had made it clear that, unless Elizabeth marries, she was to reside with them indefinitely. Elizabeth minded this not at all. In fact, it was her dream to stay with Jane for the rest of her life. Now that the babe was here, Elizabeth couldn't imagine herself anywhere else but at her beloved sister's side.

The carriage ride home was uncomfortable (and this was Elizabeth's first carriage ride with the man, for she had walked to Longbourn to avoid being present during Darcy's arrival), for Darcy sat with Bingley across from Elizabeth and Jane, and Elizabeth tried her hardest not to look at the man, who surely must have despised her presence altogether.

Instead she turned towards Jane.

"I'm sure you are ready to have the babe back with you," she remarked.

"Yes," Jane wistfully said with a nod. Bingley laughed.

"Dear, we have only been gone a few hours," he said.

"A mother should be with her child," Elizabeth interjected before Jane could have a chance to become upset, "and Jane is the most dutiful mother. She is right to desire to remain with the babe."

"Well, the wet-nurse has it all under good control, I am sure," Bingley said, leaning forward and taking Jane's hands in his. Jane smiled weakly at him, and he beamed back. "Do not worry, my dear; we shall be home in a few short moments."

And so they were. After the men departed the carriage, Bingley handed out Jane, and to Elizabeth's surprise, it was Darcy who handed her out. She felt a strange sensation at her hand in his, despite their gloves, and it made her blush. He let go of her hand quickly, of course, and maintained some distance behind her as they heading up the steps to Netherfield.

She dared not turn and look back at him—but if she had, she would have been met with not Darcy's look of derision or disapproval. She would have only been met with the look of a man completely, utterly lost.