Mrs. Bingley’s Sister (The Austen Novels)

Chapter 2

Darcy lay in his bed at Netherfield feeling the most acute sort of alienation and mortification. He was a guest here once again at Netherfield Park, but no longer was it the bachelor Bingley's estate. No, Netherfield now had a mistress, none other than Mrs. Bingley, formerly Miss Jane Bennet.

He thought back with churlish regret on how he once attempted to dissuade Bingley from returning to Hertfordshire at all.

"I studied her very closely," Darcy had said to his friend, "and her look and manners were as open, cheerful, and engaged as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard."

Bingley had frowned and shaken his head. "Miss Bennet holds me in the highest regard, I can assure you."

"I am not sure of that,” Darcy replied, “Though I can concede she received your attentions with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of sentiment. The serenity of her countenance and air was such that, however amiable her temper, her heart was likely not to have been touched. Bingley, I say these things not to wound you, but to warn you."

Bingley scoffed.

"Enough of this," he said with a frown. "My sisters may cry all they like about the Bennets' 'want of connections' but you know as well as I, that I do not care about any of that. Miss Bennet is a gentleman's daughter, after all—do I not need to marry a gentleman's daughter, as I myself am a son of a tradesman? But, as far as your assertions are concerned, consider them duly noted."

Then Bingley nodded stiffly and gathered his coat to depart.

"Now, I shall be off to Hertfordshire as I originally intended. Why you allowed my sisters to cajole you into following me all the way to London is beyond my comprehension. But you are very welcome to return to Netherfield Park, if you'd like. And if not, I shall see you next at my wedding."

Darcy recalled how he gaped at Bingley like a dumb fool as the man walked out—but sure enough, Bingley was right: the next time he saw the man, Darcy was standing up with him at his wedding the following month.

Darcy lay in his bed, wide awake, thinking about when he saw Elizabeth at the wedding that day, some eleven months ago. She had stood up with her sister, of course, and while all eyes were on the beautiful, blushing Miss Bennet, Darcy's eyes were only on Miss Elizabeth. Of course, she would no longer be Miss Elizabeth after that ceremony—she soon became Miss Bennet—and how Darcy would miss being able to say her Christian name, even in the formal address that was proper. He had watched her looking on her sister's ceremony, seeing how content she had looked.

It would seem that one of Elizabeth's greatest concerns was her sister's happiness, and indeed, Darcy could admit that Mrs. Bingley seemed very happy on her wedding day, not serene and stoic as she had always seemed just a few months prior. He regretted his erroneous presumptions about the lady. Mrs. Bingley had been nothing but genteel and kind towards Darcy, which always made his regret sting a little worse.

She hadn't deserved any of Darcy's foolish attempts at meddling.

It was precisely Bingley's wedding that made Darcy decide to go through with courting Elizabeth and marrying her. What were some poor familial connections to finally having the woman he desired above all else? What was the true issue with marrying a woman who barely would bring a shilling to the marriage settlement? The Darcy family wealth was grand enough to suffice. He recalled standing there near Bingley at the altar, looking upon Elizabeth's beauty and realizing he had no other choice: he must marry her.

It felt like the hand of Providence was upon his life when he discovered Elizabeth to be residing in Kent, visiting her good friend Mrs. Collins, the former Miss Lucas—and Darcy knew he had to act. His annual sojourn to Rosings Park with his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam coincided with Elizabeth's visit, and here he wasted no time. He walked with her, he called upon her, he did everything he knew he ought to do when courting a lady. He had good looks, he had wealth, he had a grand estate and an old name to match—nothing could go wrong. He knew Elizabeth would accept him in a heartbeat. Why shouldn't she? He was offering her a chance to have everything in the world; a better offer was not likely to come by her again. She would be a fool to refuse him, and Darcy knew that Elizabeth Bennet was certainly no fool.

Oh, how wrong he had been. So very wrong, indeed—and it wasn't about her being no fool, either.

Darcy turned over, unwilling to bring to memory that dreadful moment when she refused him. He lay there for some moments more before sitting up and deciding to get out of bed. The sun would be up very soon. What harm would an early morning ride do? After all, it was his way now: he often went to bed late, slept poorly, and rose early. He had lost some of his appetite those first few months after his rejected proposal. He had retreated to Darcy House as fast as possible—but only after delivering his letter to Elizabeth, of course.

Had she read his letter?

The question had passed through his mind probably a thousand and one times since he had last seen her. Her assertions of his wrongdoings to Wickham, why, they still burned him. That dastardly man. Oh, how sorely pleased Wickham would have been to know how disastrous his lies had truly turned out for Darcy. Wickham had little idea, of course, Darcy knew that much—it was very likely that Wickham merely liked Elizabeth, for the same reasons Darcy had. She was beautiful, she was a wit, she was amusing. She was kind, she was compassionate, she was dedicated to those she loved. He recalled Bingley's letters informing him of how loving Elizabeth was to her expecting sister after she moved in. That Bingley, a man of few letters, had taken the time to pen such an observation signified to Darcy that Elizabeth's very presence in their household made all the difference.

Darcy knew that Elizabeth was worthy of the greatest dedication and respect, yet he had dashed it all by showing her very little respect in his assumptions: his assumption that she would marry him because of his elevated circumstances, his assumption that she was impressed by him, his assumption that she admired him at all.

Had she read his letter?

When an express reached him at Pemberley one day in August, Darcy had been shocked to read Bingley's urgent note: Wickham had run off with the youngest, silliest Bennet girl. Darcy recalled how he crumpled up the note in fury; of course the scoundrel would prey upon the Bennets now, knowing very well that Bingley was a wealthy man in his own right.

Bingley's letter didn't say much, but it made it clear that Jane was distraught while Elizabeth was absent—on a trip to see the lake country—and Darcy paled to think about the effect this horrid news would have upon Elizabeth when it reached her ears. So he dashed off to London, somehow making it in a fast four days, tired and exhausted, but he met with Bingley right away to make a plan. Darcy had alerted some of his usual men about Wickham's latest escapade, and it took little time to locate and find the bastard and the young Miss Lydia—and of course, as Darcy had expected, they were not married at all as their runaway note had implied. So they sent her to Netherfield in secret with her bewildered father, while a marriage settlement was drawn up in London. Here Darcy insisted on paying Wickham whatever ridiculous sum he demanded, and he fought with Bingley tooth and nail about it, but inevitably he won the day and did what he believed was right.

He made Bingley take credit, though. He wanted no part of his help in this to reach Elizabeth's ears; he did not desire her gratitude nor her thanks. His heart rested easy upon hearing of how this calmed Mrs. Bingley's nerves. If she was feeling better now that this awful Wickham business was settled, Darcy knew her closest sister would also have no cause to repine. This contented Darcy; making Elizabeth's life better was his final design in all of it, and he achieved it. He could rest assured now that she would not be troubled by Wickham's selfish ways. He cringed, of course, seeing as she was now sister-in-law to the scoundrel, but it was the only way for things to be patched up without a scandal. It was the only way to salvage the Bennet daughters' reputations, Elizabeth's included.

Although Darcy despised to think of it, Elizabeth would meet a gentleman someday with whom she might fall in love—and he couldn't bear for her to be unable to find happiness because of Wickham's bad behavior.

Darcy rang for his valet, Smith.

“Early,” Smith commented.

“I told you it would be difficult for me to sleep here,” Darcy muttered tiredly.

“I do wonder, sir, if there would be more of a chance to talk to the lady today, before we depart.”

Darcy shook his head. “As I told you last night, dinner was strange and awkward between us.”

“Maybe she is embarrassed.”

“She still despises me.”

They spoke no further, and Smith took his leave.