Chapter Two #2
His attention turned to Miss Elizabeth. Before him stood a spirited beauty of fifteen years.
Chestnut-brown curls framed her face; her composure trembled on the edge of excitement, fighting to maintain a calm demeanour.
Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she greeted him warmly.
The dulcet tones of her voice washed over him, and to his surprise, he found himself inexplicably intrigued by the diminutive creature.
That interest endured throughout the meal, and while he attempted to converse equally with all those at table, his gaze kept returning, almost involuntarily, to Miss Elizabeth.
She spoke with animation, intelligence, and modesty—rare in women of his acquaintance.
Her sister, by contrast, uttered scarcely ten words all evening.
Miss Elizabeth, however, could not seem to help herself, equally participating in the conversation, and even venturing into debate with her father.
Fiennes observed the exchange, fascinated. He had never before met a young lady able to match a man’s reasoning, and Bennet did not temper his arguments for her sake, either. The more Fiennes watched, the greater his curiosity became.
When the ladies rose, signalling the close of dinner, Bennet remained seated. Fiennes leaned back, awaiting the port.
“I hope you do not object to the lack of tobacco, Mr Fiennes.” Bennet poured two glasses. “Mrs Bennet cannot abide the smell and insists I refrain.”
“That is quite understandable.” Fiennes accepted the glass and sipped with evident satisfaction, inclining his head in approval. “Your daughters are charming,” he said, hoping to draw the gentleman into speaking further.
Bennet’s grin broadened. “Indeed, they are exceptional. Jane is her mother’s pride and joy—a rare beauty.
Her uncle was obliged to dismiss a man from her company two years past for writing her execrable poetry and refusing to leave her be.
My Jane is tender-hearted and the picture of elegance and propriety. ”
“Your younger daughter is her equal?” Fiennes’s interest appeared casual.
His host looked pleased. “No. Elizabeth surpasses her sister entirely. Though Jane is educated, it is Lizzy who owns true intellect. She is every bit as clever as a man—cleverer, I dare say. And though she lacks classical beauty, she is a lovely girl and more than tolerably handsome. With her lively disposition and ability to make anyone feel at ease, Elizabeth will marry far better than any of her sisters.”
And she is your favourite. Excellent. That may serve me well.
They rejoined the ladies, and Fiennes seated himself near the young ladies.
An attempt to engage Miss Bennet in conversation elicited little beyond polite monosyllables; the handkerchief in her lap twisted under nervous fingers.
Her discomfort amused him, and smirking inwardly, he took quiet pleasure in having unsettled her.
“Miss Elizabeth, I understand from the conversation at dinner that you are fond of walking.” Attentive, he leaned nearer, the movement deliberate rather than impulsive.
She answered his motion with a graceful inclination. “I am, sir. I walk out every morning when the weather is fine.”
“Do you venture far from your father’s lands?”
She nodded eagerly. “I have walked three miles over the fields to Netherfield before. Oakham Mount is my favourite walk, though.”
“Oakham Mount?” Feigning curiosity, he asked, “What is that?”
“Oh, it is nothing more than a small hill, but that is what we call it. It lies between Longbourn and Netherfield. Meryton is to the east. From the summit one may look out across the fields for miles, and it is a particularly fine place to watch the sunrise.”
If more people only knew how much they revealed in idle parlour talk, the world would be filled with recluses. The girl is giving me all I require, and more.
“Do you walk alone?” He inclined his head, as though the notion troubled him.
Miss Elizabeth laughed merrily. “There is no danger to me here, sir! I know every soul in Meryton and the surrounding parts. They would never harm me. No, I am quite content to keep myself company on my adventures.”
He studied her laughter as another man might study a ledger—estimating its value, the weight it might carry with her father, the cost of owning it entirely.
“Much to her mama’s despair.” Bennet rose and joined them, taking a chair opposite the settee where his daughters sat. “Elizabeth comes home with muddy hems and filthy petticoats more often than not.”
“Headstrong girl!” Mrs Bennet interjected sharply. “She has no consideration for my poor nerves. But Jane is the picture of propriety, do you not think so?”
And dreadfully dull. There would be no amusement at all in… Fiennes checked the thought and inclined his head with practiced grace. “Miss Bennet is everything that is lovely.” His courteous nod encompassed both the matron and the young lady.
Later that evening, Fiennes sat before the cold hearth in his chambers. A single candle burned, its wavering flame throwing unsteady shadows across the room. His elbows rested on his knees, fingers steepled as he glowered into the darkness, deep in thought.
For the first time in his life, he desired something beyond money.
After only the briefest acquaintance, he wanted Miss Elizabeth Bennet—wanted her with a desperation that eclipsed any craving for estate, business, or jewel.
He longed to make her his—to own her, and capture that bright, defiant spirit—only to crush it, to mould her into his own design.
Had someone known what he was about, they might wonder why the younger sister and not the elder.
The answer was simple: Jane Bennet presented no challenge.
Compliant and soft-spoken, she would give way too readily; there would be no satisfaction in shaping her.
Only in mastering the wilful and impertinent younger sister could his hunger be appeased.