Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
She followed the path to Longbourn but stopped short when she turned in at the lane.
There were several horses tied up in front of the house, and other horses harnessed to two little gigs and a curricle.
Stableboys took turns walking the horses, a disgruntled Mr Emmons with them.
How many guests did her mother have today?
Cautiously approaching the house, she could hear the noise of conversation before she even entered.
Behind her another curricle swept up the driveway, coming to a stop with a flourish and a spray of gravel.
A fashionably dressed young man fairly leapt out and without a word threw the reins towards Mr Emmons, who growled at him.
The man paid him no attention for, having spotted Elizabeth, he moved quickly towards her.
“I say, are you Miss Bennet?” He bowed low. “Allow me to introduce—”
Before he could finish, Emmons was at Elizabeth’s side, glaring at the importuning man. “Did not your father teach you that you cannot just walk up to a lady without an introduction?” The grizzled coachman offered Elizabeth his arm. “Let me escort you to the house, miss.”
The hubbub grew louder as she neared the drawing room; the voices were decidedly masculine. She stepped into the room and stopped short.
Most if not all of the single men in the neighbourhood were in attendance, squeezed tightly together on furniture or standing along the wall.
Every chair, settee, and window seat were occupied, and more chairs had been brought in from the dining room.
There were men of every age, from spotty nineteen-year-old Joseph Alcott to the widowed Mr Hacket, who was on the far side of fifty.
Most of the faces were familiar, but there were several that she had never seen before.
Martha, Ruthie, and a harried-looking Mrs Hill were rushing in and out of the room with trays.
Even Jane, pouring out tea and coffee, looked harassed.
And there, perched uncomfortably on a narrow window seat, were Henry and John Lucas, regarding her sheepishly over their cups of tea. They definitely did not want to be there.
Holding court amid the noise was Mrs Bennet, all aflutter, speaking so quickly she was fairly jabbering.
Squeaks of delight randomly escaped her lips; her hands flapped in the air.
Kitty was valiantly assisting with the refreshments, handing around slices of cake and biscuits.
Mary sat near them, wide-eyed and frozen, overwhelmed and unable to react to a trio of gentlemen all talking to her over each other at once.
When Elizabeth stepped over the threshold, all heads swivelled in her direction. The volume of the voices increased even more as many of their visitors called out to her in greeting. She did not know whom to answer first. Could she even make herself heard over the noise?
Then she remembered Mr Darcy at the assembly, the first time she ever laid eyes on him.
He stood there, his handsome face frozen with disdain, plainly unhappy, surrounded by ladies young and old manoeuvring to get an introduction.
Whispers of ten thousand a year were already audibly circling the room.
He did not even try to make his voice heard; rather, he had spoken quietly, and the cacophony around him had lowered.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” She curtseyed, speaking in a conversational tone of voice. Like magic, the noise muted as the gentlemen all rose to perform their bows.
“How kind of you all to visit,” she continued, while wondering how to carry on with a conversation that was more akin to public speaking. What on earth should she say? Why are you here? Why the sudden interest in the Bennet sisters? But of course, they all knew why.
Before she could speak, a voice came from behind her, and she spun around.
“Gentlemen, visiting hours are over for today. Thank you for your company this afternoon and try not to let the door bump you on your way out.” Mr Bennet’s voice was calm, though his expression was foreboding. He had on dusty riding clothes, so he must have been out on the farms.
Mercifully, the gentlemen reluctantly rose to take their leave, thanking Mrs Bennet as they filed from the room. Mr Osbeck and Mrs Hill stood in the hall, ushering them to the door, making sure they had all gone.
The family all remained silent, not moving, until they heard the door close behind the last of their guests.
Mr Bennet was the first to speak. “Are you happy now, Mrs Bennet?” His voice was even, though there was an edge to it that even their mother could not fail to understand.
To her credit, she did not fly into hysterics or burst into tears. “I did not invite them, Mr Bennet. They came, they were our guests, so the girls and I offered them our hospitality.”
Their father’s voice rose. “You do understand what this was all about, do you not? This is not cause for rejoicing, rather it is insulting! All these young men whom we have known for years had no particular regard for our daughters before. For them to swarm around the girls now means they do not see them as ladies but as pound notes.”
Surprisingly, Jane spoke, a trace of bitterness in her voice.
“Perhaps we should be glad we are poor; we shall never have the problem of being sought only for mercenary reasons. As it is, Mama, we should not expect any of these young men to offer for any of us once the truth becomes more widely known.” She sniffed.
“I am relieved to know that at least we shall have a place to live in future.”
All were at a loss for words, though Elizabeth knew Jane was thinking of Mr Bingley and his sisters. Dear Jane, always forgiving, always certain that all would be well, had finally surrendered her dreams of marriage.
Mr Bennet flushed, seeming embarrassed by Jane’s bald statement that she and her sisters were poor and implication that there was little or no chance any of them would marry.
Good, Elizabeth thought. She knew perfectly well that they were not actually poor, but having no dowries damaged their prospects.
Papa was the one who could have ameliorated the situation if he had saved and invested money for their futures.
Mr Goulding had provided for them and their father had not, and everyone knew about it. His anger sprang from shame.
Finally, their father spoke, but not to Jane’s words.
“Elizabeth. Emmons tells me that one of our so-called guests approached you, without even an introduction, and importuned you before you could even enter the house. Since Goulding has put you into this dangerous position, you may no longer walk without an escort. Unless someone else is with you, you may only walk alone within sight of the house.”
Unfortunately, he was correct. “Yes, Papa. I will have Davy or one of the stableboys to accompany me.”
After assisting the servants with cleaning up the detritus, the ladies of the house retreated to their rooms. They all, even Mrs Bennet, needed some quiet after the wild afternoon they had had.
As Elizabeth’s thoughts often did when she was alone, they returned to Mr Darcy like a pigeon to its roost.
She fully understood now. The man was inclined to distrust because he had been hunted since he had come out into society, more so since his father had died and he had inherited.
Had his vaunted haut ton even allowed him time to grieve?
She wondered if all ladies of the first circles were trained to behave as Miss Bingley had.
She had certainly referred to the exclusive ladies’ seminary she had attended often enough.
Did any of the ladies who pursued Mr Darcy appreciate his intelligence, the joy he took in literature and music, his fairness and loyalty?
Did they want to share his burdens, and be his helpmeet?
He had everything a man could want yet was never idle.
He worked very hard to ensure his estate was healthy, so that his community could be healthy, so that there would be prosperity for all.
He cared for those who depended on him and took the responsibility seriously.
She took the letter out of its hiding place and reread it. Yes, she understood him now, but that was not enough. Her realisation had come too late. Clinging to the only silver lining they had, she could only agree with Jane. At least they need not fear the hedgerows.
The afternoon dragged on, and one at a time the sisters gathered in the small parlour and found tasks to do in an effort to occupy their minds. The earlier events had rattled them all. It was time to start thinking about changing for dinner when they heard the sound of the front door knocker.
Osbeck’s voice could be heard; another masculine voice answered. Jane’s head, bent over her sewing, slowly rose, her eyes wide. She stood slowly, as if in a trance; her sewing fell from her hand to the floor just as the door to the parlour opened and Osbeck announced, “Mr Bingley, madam.”
Mr Bingley stepped through the door, a tentative smile on his handsome face.
Jane burst into tears and ran sobbing from the room. Mary and Kitty stared after her open-mouthed, then at Mr Bingley, then at Elizabeth. Without a word, they fled the room as well.
Mr Bingley stared after them and made as if to follow, but Elizabeth quickly rose and put her hand on his arm.
“Mr Bingley, we have all had a difficult day, Jane especially. Perhaps I should acquaint you with all that has happened in your absence.”
“I had no idea, Miss Elizabeth. I was in Scarborough for over four months, since early spring. My sisters and Hurst did not join me. I have had little news from anyone, even Darcy, until he wrote to me to say that he had been wrong about Miss Bennet’s feelings.
He urged me to discover for myself whether she still had any regard for me.
I came as soon as I could, straight from Scarborough. ”
“Mr Darcy wrote to you?” cried Elizabeth.
“Yes, in April, though the letter did not catch up to me for several weeks.”
He rose and paced back and forth on the carpet.
“He told me that she had been in town all winter and had even called upon my sisters in Grosvenor Square! He was aware of it at the time! I was very angry, though he apologised profusely and said he has learnt his lesson. He even said that he would understand if I could not forgive him. The loss of our friendship grieves me, but he trespassed on my trust.”
Mr Bingley ran one hand through his hair. “I need time to consider all of it.” He turned abruptly. “Did you see the letter you just referred to? The one that Caroline wrote to Miss Bennet last December?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I did. She implied that you were attached to Miss Darcy, and that she herself expected an offer from Mr Darcy soon.”
Mr Bingley rolled his eyes and huffed. “And pigs might fly! Oh, my apologies, Miss Elizabeth.”
She suppressed a small smile and left her response unsaid.
He flung himself onto a chair. “I do not believe that Darcy knows about that letter. He will be furious with my sisters! His sister is little more than a child. Caroline should not bandy her name about like that.” He slumped against the cushions, apparently deep in thought, until he spoke again.
“So, Miss Elizabeth, your sister believes that no man will pay court to her because she does not have a dowry? That she has no charms to recommend her? That is not true, not at all!”
He shook his head vehemently. “I have been in love with her since almost the first time I saw her. When I left Netherfield for London, I had other business in need of my attention, but I also had a marriage settlement drawn up. I was going to return to Hertfordshire and propose until… I should never have listened to my sisters or to Darcy!”
“You love me?” came a small voice behind them.
Jane. She was standing in the doorway, her hands tightly clasped, face pale and eyes red, chin trembling. Mr Bingley gasped, then flew out of the chair to stand before her, taking her hands in his.
Elizabeth understood that it was her cue to leave, and she slipped unnoticed from the room.