Chapter 8
The next day, Charles Bingley was in Mr. Bennet’s study before the family had even finished breakfast. For such a momentous event, all the particulars were decided quickly.
They both thought it wise that Bingley court Jane for a few months before they wed.
By the end of the day, all of Hertfordshire and half of London would know that Jane and Bingley were soulmates.
They could go forward with an engagement, but there would be no exact wedding date just yet.
Bingley would call on Jane regularly, spending more and more time at Longbourn, and when Jane felt she was ready, they would announce the engagement formally and choose a date.
Mr. Bingley was more than generous with the settlement he proposed and Mr. Bennet readily agreed. The papers would be drawn up in short order and if Jane had no objection, Mr. Bennet would sign them.
Bingley joined the family for breakfast when they finished their discussion, quickly taking the vacant seat next to Jane.
She smiled shyly and spoke softly to him, and by the end of the meal, Mr. Bingley was utterly smitten.
Jane was more cautious, but after two more calls and a walk in the garden, she was very pleased Mr. Bingley was her soulmate and would soon be her husband.
“Jane and Mr. Bingley came together so easily,” said Elizabeth. She was walking along the fields south of Longbourn with Charlotte Lucas, her closest neighbor.
“Of course, they did. It is Jane.”
Elizabeth laughed. They had joked throughout the years that Jane was the most angelic of them all.
The most beautiful, the most good, the most selfless and generous and kind.
Of course, her gowns never tore and her hair never escaped its pins.
It was Jane! She was perfection personified.
She deserved every good thing and Fate would not be so cruel as to deny her.
“Yes, I know. I cannot help but think my own match will not be so easily accomplished,” said Elizabeth.
“What makes you think so?”
“The same thing that made my hems tear when Jane’s remained intact. I do not have my sister’s luck.” She gave Charlotte a look. “Or her goodness, which may have more to do with it.” She twirled a leaf in her hand as she walked. “I do not know really. It is just a feeling I have.”
“A more complicated romance is no less estimable than a simple one. It does not mean the love is any less pure.”
Elizabeth squeezed her arm. “Thank you, Charlotte. You are right, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Does it ever get tiresome? Being right all the time?” teased Elizabeth.
Charlotte sighed. “It does, but it is the burden I must bear.”
She maintained her serious expression for half a minute before they both burst into laughter.
Darcy sat atop his horse on the other side of the field, watching two young ladies walk along arm in arm, laughing and talking. They seemed so happy and carefree. What he would not give to see Georgiana in such a manner!
He took the letter he had received that morning our of his pocket and read over his favorite part again.
…it is faint, but I can see where the lines are coming in. I have no idea what the final shape will be, but it is exciting nonetheless. I will be sure to keep you abreast of the progress until you may see it in person.
How are you getting on with the Bingleys?
To think Mr. Bingley met his soulmate so quickly!
Well, I suppose it was not so very quick.
He was marked ten years ago. But he did know within a few minutes of meeting her.
She sounds positively lovely! I cannot wait to meet her.
Should we invite them to Pemberley in the summer?
I would much rather have Mr. Bingley and his new bride than other members of his family…
Darcy could not contain his smile. Georgiana’s soul mark was coming in.
It was appearing rather slowly, and it was small and faint, but it was there, and that was all that mattered.
The mark was on her left shoulder. So far it covered the cap and down the back of her shoulder an inch.
At least hers was not as large as his had been.
His entire arm had itched for weeks. His sister would hopefully be spared such indignity.
Over the next fortnight, Netherfield and Longbourn mixed freely.
Mr. Bingley came every day, and he often brought company.
At first he came with his sisters, Miss Bingley—who was acting as her brother’s hostess—and Mrs. Hurst. The ladies could be pleasant when they wished, but they did not often wish when they were at Longbourn or when the Bennet ladies were returning their call.
Miss Bingley was haughty and above her company, often speaking of people and places no one but she and her sister knew of, thus alienating the rest of the room.
She handed out sly insults to Mrs. Bennet and was falsely sweet to Jane.
Even she understood that a marriage contract, once signed, was nearly impossible to dissolve, and the entire county knew of the engagement.
There was no getting out of it now. But clearly, she did not mean to go down gracefully.
She clearly felt the Bingleys were above the Bennets, and anyone halfway intelligent knew it.
Mrs. Hurst was less troublesome than her sister, but she was also less entertaining.
She did not seem very interested in her neighbors, or her guest, or her brother’s intended.
Her husband seemed to enjoy eating, sleeping, and drinking, and Mrs. Hurst made it her priority to see he was provided with all of the above, likely so he would not bother her.
She had no other conversation unless she was cackling with her sister over some petty business or other.
After three visits, Bingley’s sisters clearly thought they had done their duty by their brother, for they ceased coming to Longbourn altogether. They were not much missed.
More of an enigma, and a more frequent companion, was Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley’s friend. He was supposedly visiting Hertfordshire to assist Bingley in learning estate management, but Bingley was so often at Longbourn he could not have been learning much.
Darcy played chess with Mr. Bennet—they were evenly matched and currently drawn in wins and losses—and he sat silently in the parlor as Mrs. Bennet served him tea, listening to her complain of her health and the difficulty in finding good lace with the war on.
Elizabeth was not sure what to make of him.
He was handsome, with his straight nose and noble bearing, and he was certainly intelligent enough.
Her father liked him, and Mr. Bennet could not abide stupidity.
He was always kind to Jane, which she appreciated, but he was only polite to the rest of the Bennets, which confused her.
Did he not wish for friends? Did he disapprove of them? Was he overwhelmed by so many people? She could not know, but her curiosity was piqued.
One day, when he was visiting Longbourn with Bingley, she passed him a cup of tea prepared just the way he liked it. His fingers brushed over hers when he took the cup from her hand and he blushed crimson. Then he looked in her eyes and said, quite solemnly, “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth.”
What was she to make of that? Confounding man!
Elizabeth may not have known what to make of Mr. Darcy, but the man was growing more enchanted with her at each encounter.
At first, he admired her smile and the way the light glinted off her hair.
It looked brown at first, but near the fire, it was a riot of golden hues, and in the sunlight, red danced through her tresses.
He admired her figure when they walked in the garden.
Her form was graceful and pleasing, and there was something about the way she moved that made him smile just watching her.
It was as if she glided along the paths.
Like a wood nymph most at home in the forest, so Elizabeth seemed made for the outdoors.
He found her scent tantalizing, and he spent hours wondering what it was that seemed to hook into his senses and draw him closer.
Her mind was sharp and quick, but she was never cruel.
Even when Miss Bingley let loose her nastiest barbs, Miss Elizabeth responded with grace and patience, skillfully redirecting the conversation, or returning the insult so slyly Miss Bingley did not even realize it had happened. Had he ever known such a clever woman?
She had the most delightful taste in clothes, the most fetching bonnets, the softest pelisses. She wore her hair in simple but elegant styles, and he imagined pulling the pins out one by one, running his hands through her locks, and finding out if her hair was as silky as it appeared.
After he spent a week obsessing over her appearance and quick mind, he noticed her talents.
He liked the way she played the pianoforte.
She had a light touch on the keys and her choice of songs was always happy and bright.
Then he heard her sing, and as he watched her, half hidden at the back of the room, he felt his heart slide a little closer to hers.
How could she possess him so thoroughly with just a few notes?
How could she see inside his soul as if she had known him forever?
She was such a bright, cheerful person; he did not know how she could sing with such feeling, such depth of passion and pain.
She should know nothing of darkness. She should be in sweetness and happiness all her days.
He would make it so for her if she were his.
It was when he noticed such thoughts that he began to think he was truly in trouble.
He was mesmerized by the dimple in her cheek, enchanted by her laugh, bewitched by her eyes.
Her voice was pleasing and her wit entertaining.
She was everything he would want in a companion, if only he would speak to her.
But he did not wish to excite expectations he could not fulfill, and he was a marked man.
It was unusual that he noticed a woman so thoroughly—it had not happened since his mark had come in—but that did not mean anything in and of itself.
And of course her initials were EB, and he was looking for a woman with the initials ERB, but Elizabeth was a common name and B a common letter. He could not trust that alone.
Besides, Elizabeth was unmarked. He had seen her in a multitude of gowns now, and he had never seen a mark, despite careful observation.
Miss Bingley had even caught him scanning her arms and asked what he was looking at.
When he confessed he was looking for a mark on a lady, she had informed him that Miss Elizabeth did not have a mark.
Jane and Kitty had received their marks as children when their soulmates took them, and Miss Lydia had had a ceremony two years before, but Mary and Elizabeth were too practical for that sort of thing and had chosen not to receive a mark.
Darcy could not believe his disappointment when he heard the news.
His Elizabeth! Not marked! He had not realized how accustomed he had become to the idea of her being his soulmate—his wife—until it was snatched away from him.
Miss Bingley had seemed entirely too pleased with herself when she told him, but he would not waste his time worrying about her.
She was Bingley’s problem. Darcy had a soulmate to find.
If only he could rid his mind of Miss Elizabeth.