Chapter 3 #2
Elizabeth turned to her friend. “What do you think Mr. Darcy means by staring at one who is only tolerable and listening to our conversation?” she asked Charlotte archly. “Do I have a blemish on my face?”
“Eliza, behave,” Charlotte admonished. “The man is a guest in my father’s house, after all.”
“You have my apologies. You are correct,” Elizabeth acknowledged.
Jane Bennet was becoming more frustrated by the minute. She had attempted to draw Mr. Darcy into conversation a few times and had not extracted more than a one-word answer from him; at the same time, he stared longingly at Elizabeth.
How could it be he seemed to have eyes only for Elizabeth, after her sister mocked the man at the assembly and avoided him at Lucas Lodge?
It was not to be borne! Jane knew what she had to do—she needed to get Lizzy to play the pianoforte.
Once Mr. Darcy saw how deficient she was, he would turn to her, as he was supposed to.
“Lizzy dearest, will you not entertain us at the instrument tonight?” Jane asked sweetly.
“Yes, Eliza, it is time for you to sit at the pianoforte and play for us,” Charlotte agreed.
“Some in our company have heard true proficients in Town; I would not want to torture them with my poor playing,” Elizabeth tried to demur.
“Come now, Lizzy, false modesty does not become you,” Jane pushed.
“In that case, I will play. Jane, you need to save your breath to cool your porridge, I will use mine to swell my voice in song,” Elizabeth teased her older sister.
Elizabeth sat at the already-opened upright and found some music she had practiced more than most. She began to play and, other than Fanny Bennet, everyone stopped talking to listen to her.
Jane was not happy. Obviously it was a piece her sister had practised often.
Rather than pushing Mr. Darcy away, it seemed he was listening to her with rapt attention.
Jane was standing a little behind Mr. Darcy when Miss Caroline Bingley sidled up to him.
It amused Jane that the woman tried to take one of the man’s arms, but he resolutely placed his arms behind his back.
She did, however, overhear their entire conversation.
“I can guess the subject of your reverie,” Miss Bingley stated conspiratorially.
“I should imagine not,” Darcy replied disinterestedly.
“You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner—in such society; and indeed, I am quite of your opinion. I was never more disgusted! The insipidity, and yet the noise—the nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all those people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!” Miss Bingley sniffed as if there were a bad smell in the room.
“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow,” Darcy said absentmindedly.
Jane smiled to herself, thinking he meant her while the ridiculous tradesman’s daughter thought he referred to herself. Jane straightened her skirts and was prepared to stand close to Mr. Darcy once he put the over-scented woman in her place.
Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on Mr. Darcy’s face and wanted to know what lady had inspired such reflections.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Mr. Darcy replied before he thought about his answer. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he had erred by being open with the shrew.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley as she got a decidedly pinched look on her face. “I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite? Pray, when am I to wish you joy?”
Jane Bennet burned with anger as her mouth tasted bitter, as if she had sucked on a lemon. She knew she had to maintain her serene facade; she could not expose herself before their neighbours. She paid attention to Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley once again.
“That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy,” Darcy mocked.
“Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter as absolutely settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed; of course, she will always be at Pemberley with you.” Miss Bingley missed the fact she had been ridiculed.
Jane watched as Mr. Darcy listened to Miss Bingley with perfect indifference while the woman was completely unaware of his disdain. It seemed she misread his composure as a signal to allow her wit to flow—what she thought was wit.
It was at that moment Jane recognised Mr. Darcy looked at her in the same way he looked at Miss Bingley. In order to capture him, she would have to seduce or compromise the man.
After Elizabeth played one song and sang another, she ceded her place at the instrument to Mary. Lydia demanded some lively tunes to dance to, and Mary demurred, until Mrs. Bennet hissed at her middle daughter.
Kitty and Lydia dragged two of the officers to form a line where the carpet had been rolled up to make space for dancing. Elizabeth was crossing the room to Charlotte when she heard Mr. Darcy make a rude comment to Sir William to the effect that any savage can dance.
As Elizabeth walked by, Sir William called her over and suggested Mr. Darcy dance with her. “Please do not trouble yourself, Mr. Darcy, my purpose in walking this way was not to solicit a dance with anyone. I am not sure it would be a tolerable activity now,” Elizabeth stated with arched eyebrow.
“It will give me pleasure to dance with you if you agree, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy stated.
“I am not in a mood to dance tonight but thank you for your kind offer.” Elizabeth curtsied and before he could bow to her, she turned and walked away.
‘And I was going to apologise to her! Who does she think she is to refuse me a dance? I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley,’ Darcy told himself to soothe his bruised ego.
Jane was bemused as she watched Lizzy insult the man again. ‘I am sure Lizzy will kill any inclination Mr. Darcy holds for her on her own without my having to exert myself.’ Jane thought.
As the Bennets waited for their carriage to be brought around, Jane leaned over to Elizabeth.
“It pains me to tell you this, Lizzy, but while you were playing I overheard Mr. Darcy insulting your eyes and what he said about your playing…I will not repeat his words. What an insufferable man.” Jane plunged the knife in and twisted it.
Her younger sister did not answer, but Jane could tell her sister was well on her way to hating Mr. Darcy. It would not take much to goad Lizzy into berating Mr. Darcy publicly. That, Jane was sure, would kill any attraction the man felt for her sister.