Chapter Seventeen
Elizabeth successfully put her worries from her mind in anticipation of an evening spent in company.
Though her friendship with Charlotte Lucas had once been strained after her brief and uncomfortable interest in becoming Elizabeth’s stepmother, they had moved past that awkwardness and now enjoyed a quiet, unspoken understanding.
Though there was still awkwardness, at least on her part, Elizabeth looked up to the elder Miss Lucas, finding in her a fount of practical wisdom, even if Charlotte’s calm acceptance of life’s limitations could be vexing to Elizabeth’s more spirited disposition.
She and Jane were accompanied by Mrs Philips that evening, their aunt’s chatter and gentle fussing a comforting background as the carriage rattled along the rutted lane to Lucas Lodge.
Mr Bennet, predictably, had chosen to remain at home, claiming a headache, though Elizabeth suspected the promise of a quiet evening in his study was a stronger lure than any party.
They had grown used to this, knowing that their father’s rare appearances in society were to be cherished, as when he had attended the Meryton assembly.
“Good evening, Eliza. Jane, you look very well!” Charlotte greeted them warmly, her eyes alight with genuine pleasure, though Elizabeth noted the faint tightness around them, the small lines of strain that came from years of watching and waiting whilst younger women found husbands.
Charlotte was nearly seven-and-twenty now, her single state a burden that she bore with stoic grace, but one that Elizabeth knew weighed upon her friend more heavily with each passing year.
“Mr Bingley is everything a gentleman ought to be,” Jane replied softly when asked about her courtship, her face suffused with a gentle, dreamy glow that made Elizabeth smile despite herself.
“Then you have every expectation that it will come to its natural conclusion,” Charlotte said with a nod, though Elizabeth saw the momentary shadow that crossed her friend’s expression before she recovered it with a composed smile. “I am happy for you, Jane.”
Eager to steer the conversation away from the quiet ache in Charlotte’s eyes, Elizabeth told her friend about the letter from Mr Collins and her father’s prompt reply, sharing her suspicions that her father meant to see one of his daughters settled with their clergyman cousin.
Charlotte’s eyebrows rose, and she let out a soft laugh. “There is no need to force the matter.”
“There is Tommy,” Jane agreed gently, and Elizabeth’s throat tightened with the effort not to respond sharply. Tommy’s existence had secured Longbourn, but at what hidden cost?
Charlotte, ever practical, offered a lifeline.
“I am certain your father merely wishes to be thorough when securing your futures.” She gave a small, rueful smile before adding lightly, “But if none of the Bennet ladies want him, pray, recommend me to his notice. I should like being a clergyman’s wife.
Yes, the occupation would suit me nicely. ”
“Are you in earnest, Charlotte?” Jane asked, blinking in surprise. “You have not even made his acquaintance.”
Charlotte lifted her chin, her voice calm but edged with quiet desperation. “Any two rational creatures who possess a unified purpose can muddle along well enough.”
Elizabeth caught the slight wringing of Charlotte’s hands, the way her fingers twisted together as though she were trying to steady herself, and her heart squeezed with sympathy.
Charlotte was nearly on the shelf—that was enough to make her steady friend fret.
Seeking to ease the tension, she chuckled.
“Very well. If Mary cannot be persuaded to accept Mr Collins, then I shall direct him to you, for I assure you, I shall not be pressed into an unwanted marriage.”
Charlotte’s eyes flickered with gratitude before she masked it with a brisk nod.
“Then you have decided against him. Kitty and Lydia are not yet out, so that leaves Mary.
I suppose she might not be opposed to the match.
“ Her composure faltered for a moment before she gestured towards the entryway, her expression brightening.
“I see the Netherfield party has arrived.”
Jane and Elizabeth turned as the door opened, revealing Miss Bingley sweeping in on Mr Darcy’s arm, her cloying smile fixed in place, her fingers clamped possessively around his sleeve.
Mr Darcy, for his part, looked thoroughly displeased with the arrangement, his gaze sweeping the room with restless precision until it found Elizabeth.
Their eyes met, and for a brief instant, the tension in his expression eased, replaced by a small, genuine smile and a nod that seemed meant only for her.
Elizabeth felt warmth rise in her cheeks and quickly turned away, chiding herself for reading too much into a simple greeting. Behind them came Mr Bingley, bright and eager, followed by Mr and Mrs Hurst, who looked as though they would rather be anywhere else.
“Good evening!” Bingley exclaimed, striding forwards to greet them, his eyes alight with pleasure as they found Jane. “Miss Bennet, you look splendid. One could hardly think it is autumn, given the beauty of the fair flowers before me.”
“You are a flatterer, Mr Bingley,” Jane replied with a soft laugh, the gentle blush on her cheeks deepening as she met his gaze.
“Flattery, Miss Bennet, is only flattery if untrue.” Bingley beamed at her, utterly unabashed. “How do you do tonight?”
“Very well, thank you. And yourself?”
“Despite having our departure delayed once again, I find I am in excellent spirits,” Bingley said cheerfully, glancing over his shoulder at his sister, who was now whispering something sharp in Mr Darcy’s ear. “Will there be dancing? I should love to stand up with you, Miss Bennet.”
“My father plans to roll up the rugs and make room for dancing,” Charlotte interjected, smiling. “Your wish will be fulfilled.”
“Capital!” Bingley exclaimed, his joy uncontained. “And you, Miss Elizabeth, must save me a set as well, or I shall feel quite rejected.”
Elizabeth laughed, curtsying lightly. “I will be sure to reserve a dance, Mr Bingley, lest I risk your disapproval.”
“Excellent,” he said, before offering his arm to Jane and escorting her towards the refreshment table, leaving Elizabeth to watch them, her heart full of conflicting emotions—hope for her sister, concern for her family’s future, and the uneasy warmth that remained from the moment she had met Mr Darcy’s eyes across the room.
Since their last call to Longbourn, Darcy had come to a conclusion regarding his conundrum.
His cousin would join him at Netherfield soon—how soon, he could not say, but when he did, they would discuss the matter then.
He could not put aside the suspicion that he had inadvertently stumbled upon a lead in Anne’s disappearance. Could the child be hers?
Whatever the case, he would gain no more ground or information if Miss Elizabeth was constantly suspicious of his motives.
What more was there to do than to know her better?
But the idea of building a rapport only so he could ferret out information made him feel troubled.
Disguise of any sort was his abhorrence, and he could not use a young lady so ill.
His conscience whispered that it would be no great trial to come to know her.
He admired Miss Elizabeth. She was a gentleman’s daughter, and he was a gentleman.
In that, they were equal. Yes, she lacked the consequence of many ladies of the ton, and if Bingley was correct, then her dowry was smaller than he had a right to expect.
But she intrigued him. Her vivacious personality complemented his more sedate, serious demeanor.
Her laughter made his heart skip a beat.
And her eyes shone with intelligence. No, it would not be difficult at all.
The struggle would come from preventing his heart from being lost to her.
Miss Bingley had latched onto his arm as they entered Lucas Lodge and did not seem inclined to release him. She led him here and there for half an hour before he politely excused himself. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she informed him she would be waiting for his return.
Darcy made his way across the room, lingering within earshot of Miss Elizabeth. She stood with Sir William Lucas and another man in a red coat. By the decoration, Darcy surmised he was a colonel.
“Welcome to Meryton,” Miss Elizabeth said.
“We anticipate the winter here,” the colonel replied. “Though the rest of the militia has yet to arrive, those who are here to set up camp have been welcomed warmly. I have taken a house in Meryton and I hope my wife will receive the same hospitality when she arrives.”
“You are married, sir?” Miss Lucas sounded somewhat disappointed. Darcy thought he could understand why. She was one of the oldest single ladies in Meryton and likely had concerns about her future.
“I am. My bride is spending time with her family until I retrieve her. Mrs Forster is eager for new company.”
“We will look forward to making her acquaintance,” Miss Elizabeth replied.
Elizabeth glanced up then, noting Darcy’s presence just outside the circle of conversation.
She raised an eyebrow speculatively, a small half-smile appearing on her face.
He was struck then by how lovely she was, and how her eyes, so very fine, sparkled in the candlelight.
His heart lurched, and he recognised the feeling for what it was: attraction.
She curtsied and excused herself, moving away from the group. Darcy moved to intercept her, greeting her warmly. “Miss Elizabeth. How do you do?”
“Mr Darcy. I see you have freed yourself.” Her mouth formed a small ‘oh’ and she looked mortified. “I am sorry!” she cried. “I did not mean—”
“Think nothing of it.” In fact, he had to work to smother a laugh. “Your assessment is accurate.”
“Still, it was rude of me to point it out.” She bit her lip, a look of nervousness falling upon her face. “Have you seen the refreshment table? Sir William always spoils his guests.”
“Well, you must lead the way.” He offered her his arm, and she took it. Together, they meandered through the guests, stopping here and there to greet one of her neighbours, before they finally reached the long table.
It was covered in a white tablecloth and laid with neat rows of seed cake, biscuits, and small jam tarts, alongside crystal dishes filled with preserved cherries and sugared almonds.
A bowl of punch stood ready, its scent of nutmeg and citrus rising in the warm air, whilst a footman moved quietly amongst the guests with a tray of small glasses filled with sherry and negus.
“How delightful,” he murmured. “May I make you a plate?”
“That is very kind of you,” She smiled kindly. When their plates were full, they moved to a cozy settee on the side of the room.
“Does Sir William often have so many guests?” he asked as he nibbled on a seed cake.
“He dearly loves to entertain,” Elizabeth replied. “There are more people here than usual, with the addition of the officers.” He watched her gaze wander until it landed on Miss Lucas. Her brow furrowed, and a look of concern appeared on her face.
“Miss Elizabeth?” he asked when the silence stretched. “Are you well?”
“Oh, it is nothing.” She paused and then spoke again. “Tell me, sir, would you encourage a friend or relative to make a prudent marriage if they were close to being on the shelf?”
The question caught him off guard, and he contemplated his reply before speaking.
“I believe one cannot have an all-encompassing opinion on such matters,” he said carefully.
“My great aunt, Amelia Darcy, never married, but she had a handsome dowry and no need to rely on any man. She was very fond of saying so. I assume we are speaking of Miss Lucas. I do not know the particulars of her situation, but based on your question, I would say she is not so fortunate as my aunt in her dowry.”
“No, Charlotte has only five hundred pounds. She was in love once, but he died in the war. After that, she grew increasingly more desperate. Why, she even expressed an interest in my father once.” Elizabeth shuddered. “That is in the past, thankfully.”
The conversation shifted after that, and Darcy spent an agreeable evening in Miss Elizabeth’s company. He avoided discussing her family, instead asking many questions about her passions, her pursuits, and local sites. Before the evening was out, he knew he had been bewitched by a pair of fine eyes.