Chapter Twenty-Six
Netherfield Park
Elizabeth
Suzanne’s first fortnight at Longbourn had been filled with evening parties, card parties, and rambles in the countryside. Arthur kept himself busy with his studies; his tutor had supplied ample work to keep him occupied until his return to Eton.
A letter from Netherfield Park interrupted their quiet morning. Addressed to Jane and read aloud for all to hear, it proved to be from Miss Bingley.
Netherfield Park
12 November 1811
My dear Miss Bennet,
Be so good as to dine with me and Louisa to-day.
Having kept each other’s company these past several days, we are desperate for another diversion.
Lady Westland and Mrs Fiennes are of course included in the invitation.
The more, the merrier, as they say, and with the gentlemen dining with the officers, there is plenty of room at the table.
Send a note along with the footman, I beseech you, telling me of your acceptance.
Yours, etc.,
Caroline Bingley
Mary was not included in the invitation, a slight that drew Mrs Bennet’s indignation.
“It is the height of rudeness—inviting two sisters while leaving the other out.” Her hands trembled faintly, a remnant of nerves from former days.
She interlaced her fingers to still the shaking and drew a deep breath. The action steadied her.
“It is of no matter, Mama,” Mary did not look up from the volume in her hand—a weighty philosophical work recommended by her father.
“I have no qualms about remaining at home. It looks like rain, and I would rather stay here than make the journey to Netherfield.” Her brow contracted as her eyes moved across the page.
“Shall we attend, ladies?” Suzanne surveyed the sky through the window, a mischievous twist playing about her lips.
“The weather appears threatening, as Mary observes. Perhaps we ought to remain at Longbourn.” Her glance shifted towards Jane, speculative and amused.
“The gentlemen are dining out as well. What a disappointment.”
“I wish to go,” Jane’s tone carried firm resolve. “Miss Bingley has been so good as to accept the hand of friendship offered. She is new to the area and lacks the advantage of long acquaintance that we possess.”
Elizabeth’s smile held a spark of playfulness. “And I dare say Mr Bingley’s connexion to your hostess has no bearing on your desire to dine at Netherfield.”
A gentle bloom brightened Jane’s cheeks.
“He is very amiable, and I like him exceedingly.
Why should I not cultivate a friendship with his sisters?
He has not asked for a courtship, despite Mama's declarations, but should he do so, I wish to encourage his affection in every proper way.” Jane lifted her chin slightly. “Is it wrong to behave so?”
“Not in the least.” Suzanne’s manner was forthright.
“We ladies have so little command over our own fates. If you like him, Miss Bennet, and believe him to be a worthy husband, then by all means, use your womanly influence to secure his attachment—without deceit, of course. It is not in your nature, that much is clear. But there is no harm in revealing what you feel. Leave Mr Bingley in no doubt of your sentiments. And if uncertainty remains, a long courtship and betrothal will afford ample time to know him better. One can only learn so much of another without living in the same house, after all.”
Elizabeth listened in part as the conversation went on, yet her thoughts wandered.
The very talk of marriage filled her with a sense of dread.
Dear Lord, she prayed silently, why can I not let this go?
That word summoned too many associations—anxiety, pain, anger—wounds long suppressed.
Refusing to let such recollections disturb her cheerfulness, she employed her old remedy: she gathered those thoughts as though binding them in a parcel and set them aside in the farthest recesses of her mind.
Think of the past only as its remembrance brings you pleasure, Elizabeth.
It had long been her maxim, practised until it became habit.
Yet now, instead of soothing her, the familiar thought left an unsettled feeling within that she could neither define nor dismiss.
Jane glanced towards her sister. “Lizzy, are you quite well? You seem miles away. Will you come to Netherfield with us?”
Elizabeth started, her thoughts scattering. “Oh…yes. I beg your pardon, I was wool-gathering.”
A reply to the missive was promptly written and returned by the same footman who had delivered it.
The ladies prepared for their outing, casting wary glances towards the window as the sky grew ever darker.
When the carriage was announced, Lady Westland’s equipage stood ready.
The trio entered hastily, the door closing just as the first drops of rain struck the panels.
“Well, it will be a wet ride for the footman and driver,” Lady Westland observed with regret. “I shall see they are given something warm to drink when we reach Netherfield Park.”
“Mrs Nicholls will see to it.” Elizabeth’s gaze lingered on the rain-spattered glass.
“She is ever attentive to those matters.” The housekeeper was a treasure—thorough, loyal, and devoted to the family.
She knew the estate belonged to young Miss Fiennes—unlike many of the servants—and that it was held in trust by her mother.
Elizabeth took comfort in knowing that while Mrs Nicholls remained, neither house nor servants would want for care.
“’Tis a pity the gentlemen are dining with the officers,” Suzanne remarked, her glance turning speculative. “It would have been pleasant to speak with Darcy again.”
Elizabeth met her friend’s eyes, turning from the window and giving her own glance of arch amusement.
“The gentlemen have called at Longbourn four times since your arrival. Should I write to your Mr Blythe and tell him you have discovered a gentleman whose company you much prefer?” To forestall offence, she tempered her words with a playful smile and a wink.
Suzanne laughed outright. “You may, if you wish. He will not believe you—his own attempts at courtship were difficult enough to render such tales impossible. I rather thought it was you who might wish to see Darcy.”
Elizabeth could not prevent herself from blushing. “I do esteem him,” she replied evenly. “He is by all accounts, honourable and kind—and a friend.” She gave Suzanne a serious look, her tone earnest. “He has asked for nothing more, and even had he done so, I know not whether I could give him more.”
Jane joined the conversation, astonishment in her manner. “Do you mean to say, Suzanne, that Lizzy likes Mr Darcy?” And why should I not? I have eschewed the company of gentlemen for so long.
“Darcy likes her—that much is evident.” Suzanne spoke with calm assurance.
“I have known him for years, though I have not seen him much in society of late. My sister often writes of her frustration with her nephew.” Her tone turned arch as she mimicked Lady Matlock.
“‘Those boys will be bachelors forever. One glowers from the corners, the other flirts outrageously, and neither will do as they are bid!’”
Peals of laughter filled the carriage. “I can quite see him doing so,” Elizabeth admitted when her mirth subsided. “His countenance is often so grave—sometimes even forbidding. I do not believe I have seen him smile more than a handful of times.”
The carriage turned into Netherfield’s drive, and conversation ebbed as the ladies waited for it to stop. Elizabeth was grateful for the covered approach; the rain now beat hard on the grounds around them.
The door opened, and one of Suzanne’s footmen extended his hand. “Careful, your ladyship—the steps are slippery, though ’tis dry beneath the awning.”
“Will it ease, Jameson?” Suzanne asked as he assisted her down.
“I cannot say, madam. It looks to be gettin’ worse. I fear the roads may soon be too muddy for the carriage.”
Suzanne sighed. “We shall see. You and Carson must go to the kitchens. Mrs Fiennes assures me the housekeeper will see to your comfort.”
Jameson tipped his hat. “Aye, ma’am, we’ll go after we see to the horses.”
Within moments they had ascended the steps and were admitted into Netherfield’s receiving hall.
Elizabeth looked about her. She had never known her husband within these walls, and so the place held no unwelcome memories.
Still, it had been years since she had crossed its threshold.
Anything connected with Fiennes was best avoided, lest old thoughts stir once more.
Some matters, however, she had learned to handle dispassionately—business amongst them.
She had seen to it that the estate’s management had been altered sufficiently to efface every trace that spoke of him.
The ladies followed the butler to the parlour, where he announced them.
Miss Bingley rose at once and came forward with eager civility, greeting Lady Westland first before turning to Elizabeth and Jane.
Her demeanour had undergone a remarkable change in the several days since meeting the Dowager Countess of Westland; she now appeared to consider her neighbours worth cultivating.
“We are so pleased you could join us! Louisa and I have quite exhausted each other’s company.
Was your journey accomplished without mishap?
This rain is dreadful—the roads will be ruined before the day is out!
” She fluttered towards them, motioning to the nearest chairs while continuing her cheerful monologue.
In recent calls at Longbourn, Miss Bingley had sought to ingratiate herself with Lady Westland.
Suzanne had received her overtures with courteous good breeding, never cold yet maintaining a proper distance.
It seemed Miss Bingley had determined that the surest means of gaining Lady Westland’s favour was to prove herself a woman worthy of friendship.