A Most Vexing Attachment (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Chapter One

“Perhaps the girls in the county of Hertfordshire will turn your head,” said Mr. Charles Bingley to me in my sitting room that afternoon.

“Perhaps you will have some mad and alluring love affair, something that comes upon you like the onset of a spring rain, and perhaps you will end up married if you come along.”

I made a face into my tea. “If this speech is intended to convince me to come along, you could not have said something less appealing, Bingley.”

It was October.

Bingley was everywhere that autumn, simply everywhere.

He appeared at all the balls I attended.

He invited me to dinner constantly. He made eyes at my sister, my very young sister, and his own sister made it clear that she was having a lark of a matchmaking fantasy about the four of us that I had made the mistake of finding amusing.

Miss Bingley seemed to think it could come to pass and Mr. Bingley also seemed to think it could come to pass.

I knew, however, that it would remain a fantasy.

I did not know what to make of Bingley. I did not dislike him.

Truly, he was one of those fellows who was rather difficult to dislike, and I could not entirely say why that was.

I suppose it was because he was cheery. He was agreeable.

He was also sort of excitable, I suppose, but not in a way that was unappealing.

He could become excited is what I mean. He could become excited about nearly anything and once he was excited, he made the activity appear…

exciting. He had a way about him, and his excitement and cheer could be quite infectious.

I liked being around him, because he made very mundane things seem as if there were not at all mundane but quite fascinating and enjoyable.

Even now, though I had no intention of going along with his scheme, I was feeling rather tempted, I had to admit.

“Besides, I think you must start writing poetry, Bingley,” I said. “That was quite the simile you put together there, about it coming upon me like rain.”

“Oh, posh,” he said, drinking down the rest of his own tea and setting his cup in its saucer with a clatter. “I have not nearly the patience one would need to be a poet. Why, if I should attempt so, I should simply write the beginnings of a number of poems and then never finish a one of them.”

“That’s likely true,” I said to him. “At any rate, I cannot accompany you.”

“No, no, that is not accurate, Darcy,” he said, wagging a finger at me.

“It most certainly is.” I took a measured sip of tea. “I think I know what I can and cannot do.”

“You can accompany me, but you are choosing not to,” said Bingley.

“Yes, well, you have arrived on my doorstep not twenty minutes ago and have laid out this mad scheme that requires me to be packed and ready to go in what?” I checked my pocket watch. “Three hours? That happens to be impossible.”

“Oh, it is not.” He waved this away. “Besides, Darcy, I am ever so desirous of your opinion of my estate.”

“It is not your estate, however,” I said. “It is an estate you are renting. What is it called? Nevermore? Netherwhere?”

“Netherfield.”

“Yes, I was quite close,” I said. “You have only told me the name of it once.”

“If a person is renting out an estate, there is quite a chance he will allow me to purchase it, I think, if I should desire so.”

“How long have you even been there?”

“I know not. Perhaps several weeks. The point is, there is a ball.”

“Yes, so you have said.” I leveled a glare at him. “And when have you ever known me to enjoy going to balls where I know absolutely no one?”

“You will know me! You will know my sisters! Besides, I have just come from visiting Danvers and Michaelson, and I think it’s quite likely they will be accompanying us.

I have promised many people to bring back twelve ladies and seven gentlemen, so you wouldn’t turn me into a liar, would you, Darcy? ”

“How could you possibly promise such a group of people?” I said. “That’s preposterous.” I sipped at my tea. “Is Danvers really going to go with you?”

“Oh, depend upon it,” said Bingley. “It will be such a lark, Darcy, do say you’ll come along. We must have one last hurrah before winter sets in, and we shall have such fun in the country. We can go hunting, think of it!”

He had this way about him, Bingley did.

“I don’t even really enjoy hunting,” I said with a shrug.

“Oh, I don’t know if I do either,” he agreed. “But if one goes in a group and everyone rides horses and there’s a lovely picnic luncheon at the end of it, that’s rather nice. We could just shoot clay pigeons, could we not?”

I found myself laughing. “We could, I suppose. How many people do you reasonably think are going to be coming along?”

“Oh, at least twenty,” he said. “We shall need ever so many carriages.”

“Twenty?” I said, shaking my head. “You will not get twenty people to agree to go with you to some country ball in the middle of nowhere within the next three hours.”

“Will I not?” He gave me a mad grin.

I sighed.

“Oh, tell me I can count upon you, Darcy,” he said. “Do say you will come!”

Of course, I ended up being the only person he convinced.

Well, he convinced his brother-in-law Mr. Hurst, but that hardly should have counted, because Hurst was easy to convince to do anything if one said there might be cards to play.

I sat in the carriage with Bingley and Hurst and Bingley’s sister, Mrs. Hurst, and Bingley’s other sister, Miss Caroline Bingley, and I gazed out the window and scolded myself inwardly.

I should have known better. Bingley was always this way. He was impulsive and he was excitable and he misrepresented positively everything.

I did not have high expectations for this ball as it was, but as I looked out of the window of the carriage, I began to caution myself to lower them even more. Also, as soon as it seemed remotely polite, I needed to get myself out of this dreadful predicament and back to London.

What was the shortest visit I could possibly manage?

Perhaps four days?

Oh, no, that likely wouldn’t do. I would likely need to stay an entire fortnight. Inwardly, I groaned, but outwardly, I kept my countenance blank.

Perhaps I could pretend to get a very important letter from someone or other, someone who would require my presence elsewhere and then I could simply leave much earlier.

Yes, but how was I to accomplish such a thing?

I should have to pay someone to deliver a pretend letter to me, likely, and that would mean finding some servant that was not employed by Bingley and I should have to pay them ever so much money to keep their mouth shut, and all of it was sounding worse and worse.

By the time we arrived at Nether-whatever-it-was-called, the Gates of Hell itself, really, wasn’t that what the netherworld was? By that time, I was in a bit of a bad temper, and I will own that.

There was not much time to settle in, either, since we had better make haste to ready for this ball we were attending, even though Bingley had quite overpromised, not bringing anywhere near the amount of people he’d claimed to be bringing back.

I was really his only triumph, and I disliked being carried here and there like his prize, ‘the rich gentleman from Derbyshire who graces us with his presence’ and whatever else it was they were whispering about me when I arrived.

But to be fair, the ball was not terrible and the girls were not ugly, not at all.

On the other hand, before the ball, Bingley and I had a bit of a row, and I could not simply back down out of it, you see, for that would mean that I was agreeing that I was having a good time and that Bingley had won.

The row began whilst I was tying my own cravat, because my valet had not yet arrived, and so Bingley, Hurst, and I were sharing the same man, who was running about in a tizzy.

I stood in the hallway, tying my cravat, bellowing, “Come to the country, Darcy! It will be a lark, Darcy! There will be ever so many pretty girls, Darcy!”

And Bingley appeared, his cravat perfectly tied and said, “Oh, all you do is complain. It is going to be a lovely time, and you have not even given anything a chance. You are determined to be melancholy, and I wish I had not even invited you.”

“You what?” I said, leaving off my cravat, which I was having a devil of a time with. “You begged me to come.”

“Yes,” said Bingley, coming across the hallway and taking my cravat in his hands. “Yes, I did, and see how you repay me. You had best get quite drunk on whatever it is there is handy when we arrive, because I shall not bear you if you are sober.”

I looked down at his deft hands. “What are you doing?”

“Hmm?” he said, grinning up at me as he finished tying my cravat. He patted my chest, smiling, and his voice lowered. “Try to have a bit of fun, Darcy.”

I furrowed my brow. “You… you…” I backed away.

I did not like the way he was looking at me.

Had he always looked at me that way? I felt acutely uncomfortable.

“Obviously, I am not going to have any fun at all.” This was a very stupid thing to say, and I fully own that now, but at the time I felt quite entirely out of sorts, and I could not quite explain my own reaction.

“Well, if you are determined to be that way, be that way,” he said.

“I am determined to be that way,” I said.

Anyway, it was sort of childish, but by the time we got to the ball, I had rather committed to it, you see, so I couldn’t do anything else about it.

Bingley chattered away, pointing people out.

“That’s the Bennet girl,” he said. “Her family is at Longbourn, and her brother has come by to visit me ever so many times. He is there, James Bennet, and that’s the father and mother.

I understand they don’t speak to each other, not anymore.

Mr. Bennet got a second child on his wife and then he ceased to touch Mrs. Bennet. ”