Chapter 21 Not Always Slighted by Other Men
NOT ALWAYS SLIGHTED BY OTHER MEN
Elizabeth inhaled deeply as she exited into the summer morn the next day.
The air was fragrant with the scent of roses and wildflowers in bloom, and she paused in unabashed appreciation of it before going on her way.
She wondered, as she often did at this time of year, if the spring and summer would be so wonderful were they not preceded by winter.
She had not intentionally gone towards Netherfield but became aware of its nearness after hearing the sound of approaching hooves.
Certainly no one at Longbourn was out riding, so it would be, presumably, the gentlemen at Netherfield—perhaps Mr Darcy.
Having contemplated his peculiar behaviour, both at the card party and at tea, she had felt all the more convinced that he acted thus intending to put down any of Miss Bingley’s pretensions towards him.
Though she could not truly like being used in such a way, she supposed she was enough a lady of the world to disregard it.
Mr Darcy, atop a great beast of a horse, came into the clearing shortly. She smiled as she looked up at him, and he smiled back as he swung his leg into an easy dismount. “Miss Elizabeth, how do you do?”
“Very well,” she said. “You are out early, Mr Darcy.”
“No sense being in the country if one intends to waste the day away. Do you plan to walk far?”
“I had not decided. It is lovely this morning, so a long ramble might be just the thing.”
“May I join you?”
It was a surprising request but more surprising was the little frisson of pleasure it gave her. She anticipated spending time with Mr Darcy. When had this started?
“I would like that,” she replied.
“Thank you,” he said, his smile having disappeared into a disconcertingly earnest look.
She had no idea what to make of it, but in any case, there was little time to consider it.
Mr Darcy tied his horse to a tree nearby, stating his intention to return for it, and they set off.
As she had observed at the card party, the Mr Darcy who walked with her was a markedly different gentleman from the one she had known previously.
He was all ease and friendliness as they went along their way, amiable and as charming as if they were friends of long duration.
Elizabeth had to admit that if she had known this Mr Darcy last autumn, her feelings on seeing him at Rosings would have been very different.
They walked for close to an hour, as pleasant an hour as Elizabeth had ever had, speaking of all manner of things, laughing but also being serious at times.
He seemed genuinely interested in hearing her thoughts on why it would be just as beneficial for ladies to travel as it was for young gentlemen; and she in turn was intrigued to consider his own limitations as a young man in control of a vast estate.
He has been under a heavy burden of responsibility from a very young age, she mused.
Is it any wonder he is generally so sombre?
She gave him an understanding smile then, even if he could not have known where her thoughts had drifted; he returned it, but unaccountably, it seemed to make him redden slightly.
Soon they found themselves returned to the horse. “My family must wonder where I got to,” Elizabeth said by way of parting from him.
He nodded, then said hurriedly, “It seems that Bingley is set on holding another ball. Wednesday next.”
“So soon? Miss Bingley must have been anticipating the eventuality of such an event.”
“In fact, I am not sure Miss Bingley has yet learnt of it, but I do not doubt she will rise to the occasion, particularly once Bingley opens his purse to her. Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?”
The question, as well as the rapidity with which it came, took her aback. “Dancing with you…at the ball, you mean?”
He nodded.
Elizabeth laughed. “Well that hardly seems fair. None of the other gentlemen in the county even know this event is to take place, and yet here you are, out claiming dances from the ladies!”
“Not ladies—only you,” he said with the earnest demeanour that made her heart flutter. “I was unable to get even one dance with you at the last assembly, so I thought I had best get myself on your card early.”
As she did when she was uneasy, she resorted to teasing. “I am not always slighted by other men, you know.”
Happily, Mr Darcy teased her right back. “What ghastly brute suggested that you were?”
“You would not know him,” she replied more seriously. “Indeed, I am not sure I do.”
The remark was meant to be said lightly.
But it emerged with too much the patina of truth upon it, and it made the easiness of the moment evaporate.
To move past the awkwardness, Elizabeth said, “In any case, sir, I should be very honoured to accept your request for a dance. Which shall I hold for you?”
“The first,” he said and, in the midst of her agreeing to that, added, “And supper. Maybe the one after supper too?”
Relieved to return to such levity, Elizabeth shook her head at him. “Sir, you have met my mother. Have you any notion of what she would do following such a display!”
“Mrs Bennet is more than welcome to do as she pleases,” he said with a bow. “But my true wishes aside, will you grant me the first and the supper dance?”
Two? He wishes to dance with me twice? Elizabeth could only smile through her bewilderment.
Mr Darcy turned and positioned himself as if to mount his horse but paused before he did so. “I must admit, however, that if you are not partnered for the last, I may ask for a third as well.”
Elizabeth blushed, and looked at the ground, unable to form any reasonable reply. Teasing had failed her; she knew not how else to respond to this Mr Darcy.
She then turned to part from him, but he called her back.
He reached for her hand and used it to pull her a bit closer to him.
Speaking quietly, he said, “Thank you for allowing me to accompany you this morning.” Then he drew her hand to his lips and kissed it briefly.
Although her hand was covered by a glove, it felt somehow as though the kiss went right through it, causing her to shiver slightly.
It did not occur to her until she was nearly at Longbourn’s gate, that if his attentions to her were meant to stymie Miss Bingley, they would be wasted, for that lady was nowhere near to see it.
The aromas of breakfast hung in the air as Elizabeth returned from the walk with Mr Darcy. She hastened into the dining room, sliding quickly into her place while ignoring her mother’s frown in her direction.
“Excellent news,” she said, hoping to divert the scolding she was likely about to receive. “Mr Bingley means to have another ball.”
It worked. Mrs Bennet exclaimed with delight, as did her sisters. “But is it certain?” Mrs Bennet asked after.
“We will likely receive the note even today,” Elizabeth assured her.
“How do you know of it, Lizzy?” Kitty asked.
“I saw Mr Darcy while he was riding,” Elizabeth said, placing her gaze on the platter of toast and hoping her blush was not evident. “He told me about it. Next Wednesday.”
“Next Wednesday! What is the haste? One needs time to plan properly! Never mind that… We need to get to the shops straightaway.” Mrs Bennet rose and tossed her napkin onto the table. “We must make haste.”
Mr Bennet folded down the newspaper he had been perusing. “Shops?”
“Jane and Lizzy will need new gowns of course,” Mrs Bennet informed him. Kitty and Lydia immediately began to protest that they, too, needed new gowns, but Mrs Bennet hushed them. “Your elder sisters are right on the verge of proposals, I am sure of it.”
Elizabeth startled. Whom did her mother think she was to receive a proposal from? Surely she had not seen Mr Darcy behaving so peculiarly? “Mama, I speak only for myself when I say there is no need for a new gown. If you refer to Sir James—”
“Of course I refer to Sir James! Have you some other suitors I do not know about?” Mrs Bennet clucked and shook her head and thus Elizabeth did not feel she needed to reply. In truth, she had no idea. Was Mr Darcy a suitor?
“Sir James needs a wealthy bride,” Elizabeth told her firmly. “He and I are only friends.”
“Let us allow Sir James to decide what sort of bride he needs,” Mrs Bennet retorted.
“Make haste,” she ordered and disappeared through the parlour door.
She was followed by Kitty and Lydia who were both loudly pleading the case for them to have new gowns too.
Only Mary remained seated; having had her nose in a book throughout, she likely was insensible to all of it.
Elizabeth met Jane’s eye and held it for a moment.
“Girls,” said Mr Bennet, “I depend upon you to keep your mother’s spending to a reasonable level.”
“I do not need you to part with a farthing on my behalf, Papa,” Jane said.
She too rose, saying, “If gowns could secure Mr Bingley, then I would have been married last autumn. I am always happy to accompany my sisters to town, but for myself, I will wear my blue superfine and be done with the matter.”
With that, she quit the room, leaving her sister and father surprised behind her. “Well now, what is that about?” Mr Bennet asked mildly.
“I cannot say,” Elizabeth replied thoughtfully. “But I will find out.”
So persistent were Kitty and Lydia in their demands that Mrs Bennet at last undertook the highly unusual action of scolding them.
This resulted in such tears and petulance that Mr Bennet ordered them into their bedchamber for the day.
“I daresay you might still have a dolly or two in there that can hear your complaints.”
Mrs Bennet came down with a headache that rendered it impossible for her to go to the shops; Jane and Elizabeth were ordered to go without her. “Something elegant,” she ordered. “Like what they wear in town!”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but dutifully, the sisters set off.
Jane was not much in the habit of walking, but it was only a mile, and the day was exceptionally fine and thus did Elizabeth insist. Not wishing to immediately interrogate Jane, she began with idle discourse. “I hear Charlotte is to come back next week.”
“Is she? I wonder why.”
“Having spent the time I did under Mr Collins’s roof, I can suppose why easily enough. But I believe her stated reason is concerns about Sir William’s health.”
“Sir William’s health? I did not realise he was ill.”
“I daresay Charlotte is using his gout as a reason to get a respite from her wifely duties.” Elizabeth smirked at her sister, but Jane did not even see it.
“It will be wonderful to see her,” replied Jane in a wooden tone.
They walked the next several feet in silence until Elizabeth decided she would be forthright. “Jane, what is it?”
Jane glanced over at her. “What is what?”
“The thought of Mr Bingley having another ball seems to distress you.”
Jane did not immediately respond, then admitted, “Yes, it does.”
Gently, Elizabeth said, “May I ask why?”
Jane stared at the road beneath her feet. “Because I love him, Lizzy, and dancing with him is as agonising as it is pleasant.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because it is true!”
“Do you think he has grown indifferent to you?” Elizabeth asked. “Because I think he is as violently in love with you as ever, perhaps more so.”
“I know he is not indifferent to me. In fact he, in a way, declared himself to me yesterday.”
Elizabeth peered round the edge of Jane’s bonnet to try and catch a glimpse of her sister’s countenance. “From the way you say so, I must conclude that conversation did not end to the advantage of either.”
“No,” Jane said, but it came in the form of a little hiccupping sob. “It did not. In fact, it made me angry, and I simply did not wish to hear it. I will not be picked up and tossed down like a toy, Lizzy. I do have some pride.”
“I am glad to know you stood up for yourself,” Elizabeth offered.
Jane stopped, turning to face her sister, arms flung out. “And you see where it has got me. More misery and less hope. In fact—no hope!”
“It speaks well of him that he did not immediately run off after.” Elizabeth reached her arm round her sister’s waist and, with a little prodding, they began again to walk, albeit slowly.
“He must despise me,” Jane said forlornly and gave a stone at their feet a little kick.
“I doubt that. I daresay it might have been good for him to hear what you wished to say to him.”
“Perhaps it was good for his character, but it was certainly not good for his regard for me.”
“Now you will need to encourage him a little. Let him know that no matter what you said, you still hold a tendre for him.”
“I could not.”
“Jane, if you love him, and you wish to have him, there is no other way. Else resign yourself to the solitary state, is that what you wish for?”
Jane shot her sister a look. “Upon my word, Lizzy, first you tell me that Bingley is nothing; I should like Mr Goddard. Now you tell me to encourage Mr Bingley and no mention of Mr Goddard!”
“You know your own heart, and we both know it was never for Mr Goddard, amiable as he is. If it is Bingley who makes you happy, then you must do what you can to encourage him along. He has already promised you matrimony; you need only to show him all is not lost.”
“I hope you are right,” Jane said. “I do not know what I would do otherwise.”
“I know one thing you should do,” Elizabeth said lightly. “Take the new gown. If Papa is willing to open his purse to us, we should take advantage of it.”
Jane laughed and agreed, and the two picked up their pace to get to the shop.
It was not until later that Elizabeth reflected on the irony of being accused of interfering with Jane’s love interests. She wondered, amused, if Mr Darcy would find her interference officious.