Chapter 9 #2
“No,” said Bingley contritely, “no.” He laid his hand upon Darcy’s shoulder.
“Pray forgive me. I meant no offence, nor was it my intent to cause you distress. But knowing the Bennets as intimately as I do and, given your initial opinion of them and their situation in life, I find it difficult to credit you would alter your views in so complete a fashion as to make an offer to one of them. As Miss Bennet’s sisters are well-aware of your sentiments, not even the remotest possibility exists that they would be willing to overlook your former treatment of them and welcome your suit if you honestly felt an inclination to present one.
“That aside, while they are all extremely pretty, there is no denying Miss Catherine is too immature for your tastes, Miss Mary too severe, and Miss Elizabeth…Well, you have been at odds with her for nearly the entirety of your acquaintance. For God’s sake, you once proclaimed her ‘not tolerable enough to tempt you,’ in public!
And no matter what you might think of Mrs Bennet, she would never force her daughters to accept any man who does not sincerely admire them, nor any man they cannot esteem. ”
“Of course, not,” Darcy muttered repentantly. “I meant no offence.”
Bingley scratched his head but made no reply.
He appeared to be deep in thought. “Come to think of it,” he muttered distractedly, “do you remember that clergyman who stayed with the family last year? As I understand it, he made Miss Elizabeth an offer, which she refused with her father’s support.
Miss Catherine mentioned her mother was furious, as he is cousin to Mr Bennet and set to inherit Longbourn after his passing.
I believe Mrs Bennet still holds it against Miss Elizabeth.
He married the former Miss Lucas instead. ”
“Mr Collins?”
“I feel a bit sorry for the poor sod to be honest. He was absolutely convinced he could change her mind and actually refused to accept her refusal.” Bingley chuckled.
“He would have had better luck trying to change the weather. Miss Elizabeth declared she would not have him and would not allow herself to be persuaded otherwise. In my opinion, it was for the best.”
Darcy could not disagree. He was hard-pressed to imagine anyone more ill-suited to be husband to the witty and clever Elizabeth Bennet than the sycophantic, weak-minded Mr Collins.
Having been refused by Elizabeth himself, Darcy could well imagine what her rejection of Mr Collins’s proposal entailed.
Too soon, the ridiculous, awkward proposal Darcy imagined Mr Collins had issued transformed into a proposal of a more disturbing nature, where the agreeable Jonathan Ellis solicited her hand.
Darcy felt physically ill. Swallowing his trepidation, he sent up a silent, fervent prayer: should that gentleman ever feel the urge to propose marriage to Elizabeth, may she refuse him as well.
Over the course of the next se’nnight Elizabeth allotted little time in her daily routine for any activity beyond the preparations required of her for Jane’s wedding and her subsequent trip to London.
To her immense relief, her busy-ness not only worked to her advantage but aided in upholding her resolve.
Though she had never looked upon a visit to the modiste with quite the same enthusiasm as her sisters, save for Mary, who preferred books to satin and bows, Elizabeth accompanied her mother and Jane to Meryton without argument.
Darcy, it seemed, was in no hurry to leave the country now that he had returned.
Elizabeth’s presence in the village shops spared her the heartache and pain of sitting with him in her mother’s parlour should he happen to accompany Bingley to Longbourn while her sister and mother were out.
Of course, some interaction with Darcy could not be avoided—church services and dinner parties, for example.
But Elizabeth felt the likelihood of a far more familiar exchange between them in such a public venue was slim.
By nature, Darcy was a private man and, although he had sought her out while she was alone in the deserted back hall of the Grey Goose the night of the assembly, she could not imagine he would dare to behave in a similar fashion in a crowded drawing room under the scrutiny of her family and countless curious neighbours, nor was Elizabeth inclined to permit it.
Their mutual connexion to Bingley had already thrown them together on several occasions.
Though Elizabeth noticed Darcy’s gaze often turned upon her, he had not spoken to her of anything more consequential than the weather since the night of his return, and always in the presence of others.
Rather than become immune to his presence, or even used to it, Elizabeth was disturbed to discover her feelings for him only intensified.
To make matters worse, Mrs Bennet had taken to singing Elizabeth’s praises to anyone so good as to provide her with a willing audience, particularly within earshot of Mr Ellis, Mr Crowell, and, to complete Elizabeth’s mortification, Darcy, whom Elizabeth suspected had only returned to her mother’s good graces because his ten thousand a year and connexions in town proved too powerful a lure to spurn.
Darcy may not have shown an inclination to marry any of her daughters, but it was just like Mrs Bennet to assume it was entirely probable he knew other rich gentlemen who would.
Constantly did Elizabeth and Jane attempt to curb their mother’s effusiveness, but as usual there was no deterring Longbourn’s mistress from her designated course.
As Mr Bennet offered no help reining in his wife, there was little for Elizabeth to do but suffer in silence and bear it as best she could.
Upon returning from a particularly trying day at the dress maker’s in Meryton, Elizabeth, her sisters, and mother entered the house to find the two gentlemen from Netherfield awaiting them in the front parlour.
Though this pattern of behaviour was familiar and even expected from Mr Bingley, Elizabeth could not help being surprised at Darcy’s coming, as the weather that day was extremely cold, icy, and wet.
The promise of a warm fire in the quiet solitude of her room, a thick rug draped upon her lap, a hot cup of tea, and a book in hand had buoyed her spirits through most of the harrowing ride from the village; the addition of Darcy to their party now made retreating upstairs impossible.
Her mother, she knew, would be anything but pleased by her going away and was likely to cause a scene if Elizabeth attempted it.
Resigning herself to her fate, she readjusted her shawl and stood passively behind her sisters as her mother greeted their guests.
“How very good it is of you, Mr Bingley, to call upon us in such wretched weather. And you, too, Mr Darcy. I hope you have not been waiting long.”
In the distance the low rumble of thunder could be heard, a dramatic accompaniment to the heavy deluge currently soaking half of Hertfordshire.
Elizabeth smiled politely at Bingley while carefully avoiding eye contact with his friend.
If nothing else, she was grateful to be safely indoors as opposed to her father’s draughty carriage.
Surely, she could sit for half an hour in her mother’s parlour and maintain a pleasant, unaffected air.
Surely, Darcy would keep a respectable distance from her in front of her family.
She stood taller and stepped forward. She would face him. She would not hide.
“We have only just arrived ourselves,” Bingley assured them as he accepted his future mother’s customary kiss upon the cheek and escorted Jane to the smaller of two sofas by the fire.
“Knowing that your mornings have been devoted exclusively to wedding preparations of late and that we were therefore likely to miss your delightful company once again, Darcy suggested that we call in the afternoon instead.”
“How very thoughtful of you, sir,” said Mrs Bennet, gracing Darcy with a wide smile. “We would have hated to miss you, would we not, girls?”
“You are too kind, madam,” Darcy replied. “I hope our presence here is not an imposition. I have no desire to add to any fatigue you might feel after spending your morning in the village.”
“Nonsense,” said Mrs Bennet with a dismissive wave of her handkerchief.
“It is nothing that a bit of pleasant company will not soon remedy. You must stay for supper, Mr Darcy, as I am certain this dreadful weather will not let up anytime soon. Mr Bingley, you know, has a standing invitation to dine with us and, as you are his dearest friend and therefore nearly family yourself, you must stay as well. There! It is settled. Ring the bell for tea, Kitty.”
“I appreciate your generosity, Mrs Bennet,” Darcy replied. His eyes darted to Elizabeth, then away. “But I do not wish to impose upon your hospitality, especially on such short notice.”
“Nonsense, sir. It is no imposition at all. In fact, if this rain continues beyond the supper hour, you and Mr Bingley are most welcome to stay the night with us as well. We are always a very merry party here at Longbourn. After all, where else can you find such stimulating conversation, or such pretty companions?”
Elizabeth shut her eyes. Her mortification was acute.