Chapter 9
T he third day of Elizabeth’s stay at Netherfield passed much the same as the second, only this time she was encouraged by Jane and Georgiana to go for a walk in the shrubbery.
“You must be greatly missing your daily constitutional, Lizzy,” Jane said in a slightly hoarse voice the next morning. “My fever is gone, and I have dear Miss Darcy and a maid here with me. I shall be quite well for half an hour.”
“I swear that if anything amiss occurs, I will send a maid for Mrs. Annesley and you immediately,” Georgiana promised.
The young girl’s companion had visited earlier that morning, and her motherly nature was in stark contrast to Mrs. Bennet’s visit. Mrs. Annesley had nursed her late husband through many an illness, she said, and would be happy to be of any assistance if requested.
“Go, Lizzy,” Jane urged. “Else you will be much too cross for me to wish to be in your company this afternoon.” She softened her teasing with a gentle smile.
Georgiana’s eyes widened, but Elizabeth laughed and agreed, collecting her bonnet and cloak before heading down the stairs and outside. The air was unseasonably warm, and the golden sunlight filtering through the trees made her surroundings feel inviting. The shrubbery paths were well-kept and offered an ideal setting for clearing her mind.
Elizabeth turned a corner and caught sight of Andrew Darcy, accompanied by a young woman she surmised to be his nurse holding a small basket. Andrew toddled ahead of her, clutching a toy horse in one hand. His laughter rang out as he bent down to examine a patch of flowers.
“Good morning,” Elizabeth greeted with a smile. “It’s lovely to see Master Andrew enjoying himself in the warm air.”
The girl looked up from her charge, startled, then relaxed when she saw Elizabeth. “Yes, it is, miss.”
“My name is Elizabeth Bennet. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure?”
Rebecca bobbed a curtsy. “My name is Rebecca; I’m the boy’s nanny.”
“He seems much happier than the last time we encountered one another,” Elizabeth remarked. “He was quite upset when I came across him.”
Rebecca shivered slightly. “Yes, that was horrible. Thankfully, young ones recover quickly, and the fine weather has done wonders for him. He’s been much less fretful today.”
Elizabeth crouched down to Andrew’s level, her expression warm. “And how are you, Master Andrew? Do you enjoy being outside?”
Andrew looked up at her, his wide eyes curious. He nodded shyly, holding up his toy horse.
“What a fine horse you have,” Elizabeth said with an approving nod. “Does he have a name?”
Andrew considered for a moment before mumbling, “Tom.”
“A very good name,” Elizabeth said with a laugh, holding out a hand. Slowly, he stepped toward her, placing the horse in her hand.
“Oh, he is quite handsome. Now tell me, does he say, moo? ” Elizabeth asked, her face serious.
Andrew shook his head solemnly. “Oh dear,” Elizabeth continued. “Perhaps he says, baa?”
A small grin began to form on his lips, and he shook his head again.
“Well, I’m not good at this. Let’s see.” Elizabeth paused and tapped a finger to her chin. “I’ve got it,” she cried triumphantly. “He says, cluck cluck. ”
The boy let out a giggle and shook his head fervently.
“Well, then I give up,” Elizabeth exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “What does he say?”
“Neigh !”
“Oh, that’s right.” Elizabeth handed the horse back to Andrew and clapped her hands. “What a smart young man you are.”
Andrew beamed and neighed again, making the horse gallop through the air. Rebecca’s smile was wide as she watched the exchange. “He doesn’t warm to many so quickly, Miss Elizabeth. You’ve a gift with children.”
“We’re old friends,” Elizabeth said reassuringly. “Aren’t we Andrew?”
“Of course you are,” said Darcy from behind her.
Darcy had walked out to find his son, his concern rising after noticing Andrew’s absence from the nursery. Caroline had appeared almost immediately, insisting on accompanying him.
“You really ought to speak with Miss Elizabeth about your son,” Caroline said with a feigned air of helpfulness. “She seems to have taken quite the interest in him. Perhaps she hopes for more than mere acquaintance.”
Darcy said nothing, his patience wearing thin as Caroline continued.
“She does have remarkable eyes, I’ll grant her that,” Caroline added with a sly glance. “Though I wonder how her poor connections would look hung on the walls at Pemberley next to your illustrious ancestors. Just imagine, the portraits of tradesman and a solicitor hanging on the walls next to your uncle the earl and your great-grandfather the duke.”
“I believe you give far too much attention to such matters, Miss Bingley,” Darcy said, his tone clipped.
Caroline pressed her lips together in mock chastisement but followed him closely as they turned the corner.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth straightened at the words from Mr. Darcy, her smile faltering slightly at the sight of Caroline beside him. Before she could greet them, Andrew let out a small gasp and darted behind her skirts, clutching the fabric tightly.
“Andrew?” Darcy’s brows knit together in concern as he stepped forward.
Elizabeth instinctively rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder, her voice soothing. “It’s all right, Master Andrew. No one will hurt you.”
Rebecca hurried forward, but the boy shook his head and buried his face further into Elizabeth’s gown, his little hands trembling. “Scary,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
Caroline frowned, then twisted her lips up into what Elizabeth could only assume was an attempt at a smile, though it appeared more like a sinister leer. “Really, Andrew. There’s no need to hide like that. Come here, child, and you’ll see that I’m not scary.”
He let out a whimper. “Scary lady,” he said again, his tone more urgent.
What did she do to this poor boy? Elizabeth wondered angrily. Taking a calming breath, she turned to Caroline, her voice respectful but firm. “Miss Bingley, I believe he is frightened. Perhaps it would be best if you allowed him some space.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed, her cheeks flushing with indignation. “I have no idea what you mean, Miss Elizabeth. Children do not behave this way around me. They love me. Besides, he’s only a child; it’s all in his imagination.”
Elizabeth’s expression remained steady. “Children can feel more than we give them credit for,” she replied calmly. “Perhaps it’s your tone or your gestures, but he’s clearly upset. . Please, give him some space.”
Caroline sniffed, her indignation evident. “If you insist.” With a dramatic huff, she turned on her heel and stalked back toward the house, muttering about “ungrateful guests” and “spoiled children.”
Darcy remained silent, his gaze shifting between Elizabeth and his son. Andrew’s grip on her skirts loosened slightly, and Elizabeth crouched down again, speaking softly to him.
“There now,” she said gently. “All is well. Your papa is here.”
He looked around her anxiously.
“Andrew,” Darcy said gently. “It’s all right, my boy. I’m here. Come here.”
Elizabeth stood up, moving aside as Andrew ran to his father, who knelt and gathered the boy into his arms. Brushing off her skirts, she said with her cheeks faintly pink. “I hope I did not overstep, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her tone hesitant. “I only wished to ease his fear.”
“You did nothing of the sort,” Darcy replied, his voice low but sincere. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth, for handling it with such care.”
Elizabeth nodded, her embarrassment deepening. She turned to Rebecca with a quick smile. “I’ll leave you to your afternoon. Thank you for letting me join your game, Master Andrew.”
Rebecca watched her retreat, shaking her head slightly. “That is an impressive lady,” she said softly, her tone filled with admiration. “I’ve never met anyone quite like her.”
Darcy said nothing, his gaze lingering on Elizabeth’s retreating figure, a quiet agreement forming in his mind.
∞∞∞
That evening, Jane joined the household in the drawing room for tea after dinner, leaning heavily on the maid’s arm. Bingley immediately went to her side, offering his arm with an eager smile that made Jane’s cheeks flush with warmth. He guided her to a comfortable chair by the fire, fussing over the arrangement of the cushions and ensuring she had sufficient blankets to be warm.
Jane accepted his attentions with gentle gratitude, her soft smile and quiet replies drawing him into a low-voiced conversation. Their quiet conversation filled the space with a pleasant hum, punctuated occasionally by Bingley’s light laughter and Jane’s soft, measured responses.
The rest of the household settled into their usual places. Georgiana took a seat near her brother, her embroidery in her lap, while Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Hurst occupied the best spots near the fire, their poses carefully arranged to exude elegance. Mrs. Annesley, who had joined the gathering at Darcy’s invitation, sat on the periphery, her calm demeanor contrasting with the sisters’ languid air.
“Miss Bingley,” Mrs. Annesley began, her tone pleasant and inviting, “I must say, the decor of this room is quite tasteful. Is it the work of a local craftsman, or do you bring such finery from London?”
Caroline barely glanced in her direction, her smile thin and perfunctory. “Oh, I couldn’t say,” she replied airily. “The house was already well-furnished when Charles leased it.”
Mrs. Annesley nodded, undeterred. “It’s quite fortunate, then, to find such refinement in a country estate. I imagine it’s a pleasure to entertain in such surroundings.”
Mrs. Hurst, sipping her tea, raised a brow but said nothing, her silence a clear dismissal. Caroline gave a noncommittal hum, turning her attention back to her embroidery as if the older woman had ceased to exist.
Mrs. Annesley, ever courteous, attempted once more to engage the Bingley sisters in conversation. “Miss Bingley,” she said warmly, “your gown this evening is quite elegant. The detailing is exquisite. Is it French lace?”
Caroline glanced up from her embroidery hoop with a faint smile that barely reached her eyes. “It is,” she replied curtly, then turned to her sister. “Louisa, did you not say that the latest shipment from Paris will arrive next week?”
Mrs. Hurst nodded, barely acknowledging Mrs. Annesley as she replied to Caroline, leaving the older woman politely sidelined.
Elizabeth, seated on a comfortable a short distance away, observed the exchange with increasing irritation. Mrs. Annesley, for all her quiet dignity, had been clearly rebuffed— most likely due to her status as a companion, even though Elizabeth’s prior interactions with the woman had demonstrated her to be sharp-witted, well-read, and exceedingly kind.
I must do something. Their pretentious behavior is completely unacceptable.
Rising gracefully, Elizabeth crossed the room and settled beside the older woman. “Mrs. Annesley,” she said with a warm smile, “I could not help but notice you were speaking earlier of lace. Are you fond of embroidery yourself, or do you prefer other pursuits?”
Mrs. Annesley turned to Elizabeth, her expression softening with gratitude. “I do dabble in embroidery now and then, Miss Elizabeth,” she replied, “but I also play the harp, and I greatly enjoy reading.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right! I must thank you for your conversation this afternoon about Robinson Crusoe. I had always thought of it as an adventure story, but your perspective gave me much to consider as I sat with Jane.”
Mrs. Annesley’s face lit with gratitude. “You are too kind, Miss Elizabeth. It is a book that reveals its depths only with reflection, I think.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Indeed. I’ve been mulling over its themes of isolation and resilience. Crusoe’s ingenuity in the face of adversity is admirable, but I find myself questioning some of his choices. For instance, his relationship with Friday—do you see it as one of mutual respect or something more… hierarchical?”
The older woman’s eyes sparkled with interest. “An excellent question. I suspect Defoe intended it as a reflection of contemporary attitudes, though we as readers are free to interpret it as we will. What is your view?”
“I find his journey fascinating, particularly how necessity drives him to confront his own nature,” Elizabeth replied. “It is remarkable how adversity reveals the depths of a person’s character.”
Mrs. Annesley smiled. “Yes, I agree. I have wondered if Crusoe would have valued human connection as much without his prolonged solitude. Do you think he might represent the resilience of the human spirit, or is he more a cautionary tale about the perils of self-reliance?”
As their conversation deepened, Elizabeth became increasingly animated, her thoughtful remarks and quick wit drawing Mrs. Annesley into a lively exchange. The warmth between them was evident, a sharp contrast to the earlier coolness of the Bingley sisters.
∞∞∞
From across the room, Darcy watched the exchange with hidden admiration. Elizabeth’s face was animated as she effortlessly engaged Mrs. Annesley in conversation, and the contrast between her lively intellect and the haughty indifference of Caroline and Mrs. Hurst was stark. He found himself silently commending her for behaving as a lady instead of a social-climbing harpy.
She is remarkable. Her kindness, her wit…
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice at his side. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
Darcy turned startled eyes to Georgiana, briefly worrying that he had spoken his thoughts aloud. Instead of looking at Elizabeth and Mrs. Annesley, however, Georgiana’s gaze was fixed on Bingley and Jane. Her lips curved in a gentle smile, her shyness momentarily overshadowed by her earnest observation.
“What do you mean?” he asked her.
“Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet,” Georgiana said softly. “It’s sweet to see two people so clearly enamored with one another.”
Darcy frowned slightly, watching the scene unfold. While it was obvious that Bingley’s admiration was sincere, Jane’s serene smile seemed unchanged from any other moment he had seen her.
“Bingley is certainly smitten,” Darcy murmured, “but Miss Bennet… her demeanor is always so composed. I see no indication that her feelings match his.”
Georgiana tilted her head, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Do you think she would be so gentle and attentive if she didn’t care for him?”
“She smiles at everyone,” Darcy replied. “I fear she is simply… pleasant by nature.”
Georgiana’s brow furrowed. “If she were fortune hunting, as you seem to suggest, wouldn’t she be directing her attentions toward you instead, brother? You are far wealthier.”
Darcy turned to her, startled by her frankness. “Georgiana,” he said, his voice low, “that is not what I—”
But she interrupted him with a small, knowing smile. “I think she is like me,” she said simply. “She isn’t effusive by nature, but look at her— she isn’t just smiling and nodding. She leans forward when she listens to him, her eyes looking into his as if she’s truly interested. And she answers him— not just politely, but with equal intensity, as if their conversation matters as much to her as to him.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed as he watched more closely. He had to admit, there was a natural ease between Bingley and Jane, one that hinted at mutual enjoyment rather than mere propriety. His frown deepened as he considered her words. “When did you become so wise?” he asked, a note of surprise in his tone.
She straightened, her cheeks faintly pink. “Perhaps I’ve always been, Brother. You are only just noticing.”
He gave a startled chuckle at her tease. Where did this new side of my sister come from?
Oblivious to his thoughts, Georgiana continued, “No, I think it is the new company I have been keeping. Or perhaps,” she added with a teasing glance, “I simply learned from your mistakes.”
Darcy’s lips twitched with a reluctant smile as he returned his gaze to Bingley and Jane. Georgiana’s insight gnawed at the edges of his certainty, leaving him with more questions than answers, but only for a few moments.
Involuntarily, his returned his attention to the room, his gaze lingered on Elizabeth once more. Her graciousness toward Mrs. Annesley, her lively intelligence, and her ability to navigate the unspoken slights of the evening had not gone unnoticed.
It seemed his sister wasn’t the only one full of surprises tonight.
∞∞∞
Across the room, Caroline Bingley seethed as she watched Darcy stare at that insipid Eliza Bennet chit. Determined to break his concentration, she said loudly, “Pray, Mr. Darcy, how is your cousin the viscount doing?”
Darcy blinked, startled from his thoughts, but at least his eyes were now focused on her. “I was not aware you were acquainted with Milton.”
She felt her face turn red. “Oh, I am not. That is, I just read in the paper that he had taken a fall off a horse while riding down Rotten Row. I do hope he is unharmed.”
“I believe it occurred as he was dismounting and suffered no injury. He is walking about just fine.”
Darcy then fell silent, his gaze going back to Elizabeth. Desperate for his attention, Caroline said, “Speaking of walking, I believe I shall take a turn about the room. Will you join me, Miss Eliza?”
Elizabeth, who had still been in conversation with Mrs. Annesley, look up with surprise. “Of course, Miss Bingley.” She rose to her feet and joined her hostess, and they began to walk in silence.
Halfway through the circuit, Caroline said, “Mr. Darcy, do come and join us. It is quite refreshing.”
“I’m sorry, but I believe that would defeat the purpose.”
Caroline felt a shiver go up her spine. “The purpose, sir?” she asked in an airy tone.
“Why, yes. There can only be two purposes for your exercise. Either you two are confidantes with secret affairs to discuss, or else you are aware that your figures appear best when walking.” Ignoring Georgiana’s scandalized gasp at his side, he continued, “My presence would interfere with both objects. From here, I cannot hear you, and I can admire you both much better,” he finished with a sly smirk.
Elizabeth let out a shocked giggle, while Georgiana gaped at her brother. “Oh, how dreadful!” Caroline cried, happy to be the recipient of Darcy’s teasing. Eager to continue the lighthearted banter, she turned to her companion and ask, “How shall we punish him?”
“Oh, I think Mr. Darcy already has his punishment, as he has quite shocked his sister. Now she knows she can tease him… even laugh at him.”
“Tease Mr. Darcy?” Caroline exclaimed shrilly. “That cannot be possible, as he is a man without fault.”
Now Elizabeth’s amusement displayed itself with a deep laugh, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “A man without fault, is he?” she repeated, turning her gaze toward Darcy. “I daresay, Miss Bingley, that you and I must be speaking of two very different gentlemen. For no man, surely, is without fault.”
Darcy raised a brow, his expression poised but amused. “And what faults would you assign me, Miss Elizabeth? I must warn you, this is dangerous territory.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, her smile playful. “Oh, I would not presume to list them all, Mr. Darcy. That would take far too long and might damage your delicate sensibilities. But I will say that your tendency toward pride is rather evident.”
Georgiana, still recovering from her initial shock, looked between them with wide eyes. Caroline, however, seized the opportunity to defend him.
“Pride!” she exclaimed. “Surely, Miss Eliza, you do not call pride a fault. Pride is what sets a gentleman of Mr. Darcy’s station apart from others. Indeed, I think a certain degree of pride is essential.”
Elizabeth’s gaze remained fixed on Darcy, her tone thoughtful as she responded. “I suppose it depends on the nature of that pride. There is a pride that inspires one to act with integrity, and then there is a pride that blinds one to the worth of others. I wonder which kind you favor, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy’s lips curved slightly, though his tone was measured. “Pride, like all things, must be tempered with reason. I admit I have often been accused of it, but I believe there is a distinction to be made. My pride is rooted not in my station but in my principles. It is a matter of knowing one’s own worth and of having the superiority of mind to control your pride, that it does not turn to vanity.”
Elizabeth regarded him for a moment, her amusement fading into curiosity. “And do you think it is possible to know one’s worth without undervaluing others?”
Darcy’s brow furrowed slightly. “I would like to think so. However, I must admit that judgment is not always perfect. We are all susceptible to prejudice, whether we realize it or not.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth said, nodding thoughtfully. “Pride and prejudice often walk hand in hand, do they not? And yet, it is the ability to recognize one’s own failings that truly sets one apart.”
Georgiana, who had been listening quietly, interjected hesitantly. “I think humility must also play a role. Without it, even the most admirable qualities can become faults.”
Darcy glanced at his sister, his expression softening. “You are quite right, Georgiana.”
Elizabeth smiled warmly at Georgiana. “A wise observation, Miss Darcy. It seems your brother is fortunate to have someone so insightful to guide him.”
Georgiana blushed deeply, but her eyes glimmered with gratitude.
Caroline, desperate to redirect the conversation, laughed nervously. “Well, I daresay we have discussed Mr. Darcy’s character quite enough for one evening. Shall we return to more agreeable topics? Perhaps some music, Louisa?”
Her voice was high-pitched and strained, betraying her irritation. She shot a pointed look at her sister, clearly expecting support in changing the focus of the room.
Louisa Hurst, ever the compliant ally, set aside her needlework and nodded. “What a wonderful idea, Caroline. Perhaps you might favor us with a song.”
Caroline’s forced smile tightened as her gaze flicked briefly to Darcy, who had once again turned his attention to Elizabeth. Anger simmered beneath her composed exterior—her carefully constructed scheme to reclaim Darcy’s attention had failed spectacularly, and now the entire room had seen her efforts rebuffed.
She took her seat at the piano and played an intricate piece from memory, all the while glaring over the piano in the direction of Darcy, who had resumed staring at Elizabeth.
I will not be bested by an insignificant country chit! Mr. Darcy will be mine, if it’s the last thing I do .