Chapter 4
The view from Oakham Mount enchanted Elizabeth as much as if she had seen it for the first time.
She sighed, admiring the open sight of the valley, painted in shades of red and brown by the autumn’s skilful brush.
With her bonnet in one hand and the wind blowing her hair and caressing her face, she smiled to herself and the beauty around her.
She loved every season, but autumn always came with a hint of melancholy and the most beautiful colours.
It was a perfect time for long walks, as the summer heat was gone and the winter’s chill was still far away.
None of her sisters shared her enjoyment for exercise in the out of doors, but Elizabeth did not mind solitude.
As much as she loved being surrounded by people, she also cherished her moments alone.
She leant back, looking up at the sky. The sun was bright yet not as strong as on summer days and certainly not as powerful as it had been at the seaside.
The sea — her deep love that she had missed that year since the Gardiners had postponed their usual visit to Brighton.
Her uncle had been busy with his patients in London, and her aunt, accompanied by the children, had spent six weeks at Longbourn, which had delighted Elizabeth and her entire family.
Still, she dearly longed for the sea and to be able to swim as usual.
Against her expectations, a certain gentleman’s gratitude and generosity had not ended when his wound had healed; even though she had not seen him again, Mr Darcy — the man she had happened upon twice in the strangest circumstances — had secured the bathing machine for her enjoyment the following year too.
Furthermore, as Mrs Gardiner had informed her, he had also met her uncle a few times in London.
According to her aunt, Mr Darcy was not a naturally amiable man, but he was all politeness and gratitude — and generosity.
He had offered substantial donations towards Mr Gardiner’s work both in London and Brighton over the last three years.
This had been done with the utmost discretion, which seemed to be one of his greatest qualities.
Although he was well known amongst London society, his name never appeared in the newspapers.
Mrs Gardiner had only seen him once, at the theatre, where he was in the midst of a large group, but he had still taken the trouble to approach and greet the Gardiners, though he had not introduced them to his companions.
She had only been able to observe him a little during the play, but Mrs Gardiner had declared that Mr Darcy did not seem any more entertained among people of his own circle than he had been with them.
However, these brief meetings were enough for Mr Gardiner to think highly of him and for Mrs Gardiner to agree with her husband, especially since her own warm memories of the Darcy family contributed to her favourable opinion.
Elizabeth had never told her family about her encounter with Mr Darcy — to spare them from unnecessary concern and to spare herself from countless disagreements with her mother in regard to her improper actions.
She had requested the secrecy of her uncle and aunt, as well as Jane, on the subject, so Elizabeth had hardly any occasion to discuss him.
And yet, those little pieces of news about Mr Darcy, reported by the Gardiners, caused Elizabeth conflicting feelings and a discomfort that puzzled and distressed her.
She was pleased to hear about him and content to know he had treated her uncle and aunt with respect.
But every time she thought of him or spoke about him, her chest tightened and her pulse quickened.
Mr Darcy’s features were unclear in her recollections.
The circumstances in which they had met had been difficult ones, not allowing her the opportunity to study his face.
She did remember some things, though, which she had never confessed to anyone and hardly admitted to herself: his strong arm about her waist when he had pulled her from the deep water; his wet clothes clinging to his figure when she had found him bleeding near the rocks; the sensation of his bare skin when she had bandaged his wound.
Those memories were disturbing, causing her to blush in mortification every time they invaded her mind, which was rather often.
When she indulged herself in recalling their encounters, she realised she had seen him in informal attire, as she would likely never see another man except for her future husband.
No, that was not quite true; she had seen several ill patients when she helped her uncle.
Many of those had been stricken with high fevers, and their chests were exposed to attempt to lower their temperatures.
But that was not the same; in fact, it was completely different.
In what way, she could not say; the nakedness was the same, but her response to it was certainly different.
Such musings were embarrassing, burdening her with shame. A gentleman’s daughter could not possibly entertain such thoughts. But how could she rid herself of them when she could not even understand where they came from and why?
Over the last two years, she had attended several balls and parties, in Meryton as well as in London with the Gardiners.
She had met some handsome men, including Mr Morris, a young doctor who worked with her uncle.
She had danced with some of them, engaged in conversation with others, and she had even been the object of openly declared admiration a few times.
While she enjoyed the company of some more than others, Elizabeth was not for a moment unusually distracted by any of them.
Only Mr Darcy, whom she had met only twice, for no more than a few minutes, had the power to discompose her. She was equally bewildered and ashamed by her silliness, and she was determined not to share it with any other living soul.
The cool breeze touched her face, and Elizabeth shivered. It was time to return home and face her mother’s scolding, as always happened after a long walk. Or perhaps she could enter through the back door and go directly to join her father in the library.
Elizabeth was mostly amused — though annoyed at times — by her mother’s disapproval of everything she did. But how could she expect anything else, considering how different her mother’s plans for the future were from hers?
Neither Elizabeth nor Jane resembled their mother, but Lydia and Kitty were Mrs Bennet’s younger copies, in image as well as in nature: pretty, lively, loud, and careless, with little interest in anything that required even the smallest amount of effort.
Mary was somewhere in the middle — somewhat pretty, reasonably clever, moderately-well educated, without excelling in anything in particular.
Elizabeth always proclaimed she resembled her father, just as she always declared that Jane, as the firstborn child, had inherited the best traits from both their parents.
Jane was also the family’s hope for an advantageous marriage, meant to relieve the family from the distress of becoming homeless upon Mr Bennet’s death — as Mrs Bennet repeated at least once a week, Mr Bennet sighing in frustration each time.
On her way back to Longbourn. Elizabeth’s attention was drawn to the valley. Two riders were galloping through the fields between Netherfield and Longbourn.
She could not imagine who they might be since Netherfield had been closed for the last four years.
If it was someone of interest, certainly her mother and younger sisters would find out by the next day.
In their neighbourhood, little ever changed, so any news was always quickly and enthusiastically reported.
As she had guessed, the moment she entered the house, Elizabeth was greeted by her mother’s voice.
“Lizzy, come here! Where have you been? I was just telling your father and sisters that Netherfield Park has been let at last! My sister Phillips sent me a note. It has been taken by a young gentleman in possession of a significant fortune and certainly in need of a wife since he is single! A Mr Charles Bingley. Mr Phillips met him when the contract was signed. Are you not happy? We all certainly are!”
“I must admit my own happiness can only be described as moderate, for I am not certain why we should care enough to form any feelings on the subject at all,” Mr Bennet replied, his eyebrows raised as he peered over his book. Elizabeth suppressed a smile.
“Oh, you like nothing better than to tease me, Mr Bennet! You surely know that I hope he might fall in love with one of your daughters!”
“I assure you, my dear Mrs Bennet, that you are far from the truth. There are many things I like much better. And one of them is the solitude of my library, so I shall retire there, if you have no objections.”
“Mr Bennet, just a moment! You must go and introduce yourself immediately! It is only a week till the assembly, and he must be able to dance with your daughters!”
“And how can I assist him in this endeavour? If he wishes to dance with them, he will. If he does not, he will not. The situation is crystal clear to me!”
“Mr Bennet! How you like to vex me! You have no consideration for my poor nerves!”
“I assure you, Mrs Bennet, that you are far from the truth on that subject too. I have much consideration for your poor nerves. Now, please excuse me.”
With that, he shared a knowing glance with Elizabeth, then left; in his absence, the conversation became more animated, and Mrs Bennet continued to make plans.
“Lizzy, you must insist on your father visiting Mr Bingley. He will surely listen to you. Jane, we must think about what you will wear to the assembly. If anyone is to catch Mr Bingley’s eye, it will certainly be you.
My sister Phillips says he is very handsome and amiable, according to her husband.
But we all know men cannot be trusted on such matters.
Still, I am sure he is handsome. He must be since he is so rich. ”
Mrs Bennet continued relentlessly, and poor Jane bore the discussion with fortitude, but Elizabeth could barely conceal her amusement.
For the next three days, the new tenant of Netherfield was the main subject of conversation in every house in the neighbourhood, Longbourn being no exception.
It was reported that he had been joined by his sisters and some friends and that he had accepted the invitation to attend the assembly.
Those who had met him confirmed he was handsome and amiable, which increased the ladies’ curiosity.
Mr Bennet seemed determined not to acknowledge the matter until one day at dinner.
“Mrs Bennet, as you know, today I visited my brother Phillips to ask his legal opinion on some estate business.”
“Oh, you cannot speak of estate matters at the dinner table, Mr Bennet! I cannot understand such things and take no interest in them in any case.”
“I cannot blame you for that, madam. However, you might be interested to know that I also visited Mr Bingley.”
Mrs Bennet dropped her fork, and her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, though no sound came out.
Then, a moment later, she burst out, “Oh, my dear Mr Bennet, you are the best husband and the best father! Is he not, girls? How kind of you to call on him, even though you teased me that you would not! What is he like? What did he say? How did he look?”
“He looks like any other young man. He said a lot, as he is quite amiable and talkative. I particularly remember his praise of Netherfield and his enthusiasm for the forthcoming assembly. That is where my attention wavered. But you may be able to judge him for yourself, as he expressed his intention to return my call tomorrow. I am not sure he truly will come, though.”
“He is to come here? Oh, dear Lord, how wonderful! Tomorrow? Girls, you must prepare yourselves to look your best! Especially Jane! He might only spend time with your father and not meet you, but who knows? You must be ready! Mr Bingley at Longbourn? I could not hope for more!”
Mrs Bennet’s chattering continued under Mr Bennet’s amused gaze.
“Madam, you should order some special refreshments, just in case,” the gentleman finally said.
“Mr Bingley might be accompanied by his friend, who is twice as rich as him and apparently owns an estate three times larger than Netherfield. From the little I saw of him, he seems rather fastidious, so he may have high expectations regarding food too.”
“A friend? Really? My sister said nothing about such a person. Of course, I shall ask Hill to prepare her best meat and cheese and fruit! I do hope they might stay long enough for some refreshments. Well now, this is all quite trying for my nerves, but I am sure I shall be well prepared.”
“I am sure you will. You have always been an excellent host, Mrs Bennet,” her husband replied.
“Oh, and there is a strange coincidence. Mr Bingley’s friend mentioned he is acquainted with your brother and sister Gardiner, though I do not recall them ever mentioning his name. A certain Mr Darcy of Pemberley.”
Her father’s conversation had amused Elizabeth to begin with, but it ended with her gasping for breath and choking on her food.
She quickly reached for her glass and took a sip while her heart pounded and her face burned.
Surely it was not possible. Mr Darcy at Netherfield?
At Longbourn? It must be either a mistake or a third most extraordinary coincidence.
She struggled to regain some composure, grateful that the rest of the family was too engaged in the conversation to notice her distress.
Only Jane gently squeezed her hand in comfort and support, but her dear sister could not possibly imagine the true size of the storm of feeling rising within Elizabeth’s mind and heart.