Chapter Nine
Several afternoons after the assembly, Elizabeth’s mother insisted they all join her in the small front parlor.
Since that night, they had daily exchanged calls with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and today Mrs. Bennet felt certain that Mr. Bingley would finally accompany his sisters, so he might further his acquaintance with Jane.
So sure was she, that Mrs. Bennet would not even permit them any useful occupation, such as mending.
They simply sat, all five of them, backs straight and hands clasped in their laps, while Mrs. Bennet spoke.
“…expand this parlor as well, certainly,” Mrs. Bennet was saying.
“Yes, once my dear, sweet Jane is mistress of Netherfield Park, and has Mr. Bingley’s five thousand a year, this place will need a great many renovations.
I am certain Mr. Bingley, being so amiable, will help with those.
He will want his wife’s family to be comfortable.
We will have a new dining set, as well, for you and Mr. Bingley must dine with us at least once a week, Jane, and… ”
As her mother continued in this vein, Elizabeth forwent pointing out that Mr. Bingley was only leasing Netherfield Park, and that they had no real idea of his income, which rumor had surely inflated and to which her mother continued to add.
Instead, Elizabeth let Mrs. Bennet carry on while inching her fingers closer to a book that rested on a nearby table.
If she could flip it open, she hardly cared to what page, she could read it out of the corner of her eye.
True, it was a boring horticultural book her father had left there, but anything would be better than listening to Mrs. Bennet plan what she would do with Mr. Bingley’s money.
Elizabeth’s fingertips touched the binding.
“Elizabeth,” Mrs. Bennet snapped, breaking off her monologue. “I will not have your mind all befuddled and riled when our guests arrive. You will be distracted and contrary. No reading.”
“I will hardly be made contrary by a discourse on the value of rotating crops,” Elizabeth protested.
“No reading,” Mrs. Bennet reiterated firmly.
Her shoulders slumping, Elizabeth withdrew her hand back to her lap.
“Be more like Jane,” Mrs. Bennet added. “She is quite content to wait.”
Elizabeth glanced at her sister. Jane did, indeed, seem content.
She also seemed unaware, a dreamy, abstract expression softening her features as she stared across the room at the far wall, where a display of figurines cluttered a narrow shelf.
From their late-night talks, Elizabeth knew Mr. Bingley occupied Jane’s thoughts at least as fully as he did their mother’s.
In fact, the night before, Elizabeth had pretended sleep so as not to endure another rendition of, ‘Mr. Bingley is the most worthy, handsome gentleman.’ Infatuation threatened to turn Elizabeth’s most dear, reasonable sister foolish.
“This is so boring,” Lydia declared. “May Kitty and I walk to Meryton? Mr. Bingley did not dance two sets with either of us, after all.”
Mrs. Bennet pursed her lips, regarding them.
“May I accompany them?” Elizabeth added hastily. “We can ask Aunt Phillips what new rumors have reached her and bring them back to you.”
“Certainly, Elizabeth, you may go, but I need your sisters here for their lively chatter.” Focusing on her youngest two, Mrs. Bennet continued, “You will be required to occupy anyone who accompanies Mr. Bingley so that he may speak with Jane.”
“Oh, but, Mama,” Lydia wailed. “It will be that horrible Mr. Darcy, or Mr. Bingley’s ghastly sisters. We do not want to speak with them. They are nearly as boring as sitting here.”
“Or Mr. Hurst,” Kitty added, wrinkling her nose. “He is too old to speak with at all.”
“A carriage is turning onto the drive,” Mary said from where she sat near the front window. She craned her neck. “The Lucases. I can see Charlotte, and Maria.” Mary turned back. “Lady Lucas must be on the other side.”
“That settles that.” Mrs. Bennet pointed at Elizabeth. “You and Charlotte will walk to Meryton, Elizabeth. Charlotte Lucas is nothing compared to Jane, but Mr. Bingley did dance his first set at the assembly with her. I will not have her attempting to monopolize him.”
Elizabeth needed no further encouragement.
Leaving Lydia arguing her desire to walk too, Elizabeth rose and made her way quickly to her room to collect her outerwear.
She returned with such alacrity, she stepped from the house as Lady Lucas, Charlotte, and Maria Lucas approached Longbourn’s front stoop.
“Elizabeth,” Lady Lucas greeted warmly. “Are you going out?”
Elizabeth curtsied. “I am. I hoped to entice Charlotte into a walk to Meryton. My mother wishes a report from Mrs. Phillips on what rumors race through Meryton today, but she is so certain that Mr. Bingley will call that she will not go herself.”
Lady Lucas smiled indulgently. “That is why we are calling here early, so we may be home by the latter half of the afternoon. Mr. Bingley has called on us twice since taking up residence in Netherfield Park, you understand, so I am aware of his habit of calling later.” This last she delivered with smugness, her attention turning from Elizabeth to the window of the front parlor.
Miss Maria, following her mother’s gaze, turned to look as well. She gave a little wave, smiling.
Elizabeth did not need to check to know that her younger sisters pressed their faces to the panes, trying to ascertain what was being said. “So you can spare Charlotte?” Elizabeth pressed.
With how certain Lady Lucas seemed of when the gentlemen of Netherfield might call, it surprised Elizabeth not at all when a nod answered her query. “Certainly. As I said, we do not expect Mr. Bingley until later this afternoon.” To Charlotte, Lady Lucas added, “You will be home by then.”
“I will be, Mother,” Charlotte agreed.
“Very well. Off with you. Maria, come.” Lady Lucas began to usher Miss Maria forward.
Smiling with at least as much relief as pleasure, Elizabeth joined Charlotte in setting off in the opposite direction, putting Longbourn and their mothers’ friendly rivalry behind them.
Once they were too far down the roadway to be called back if either matron changed her mind, the tension in Elizabeth’s shoulders eased and she looked about, at last able to enjoy the countryside.
The sun was bright, but the day had dawned with thick fog and every leaf, blade, and branch still gleamed wetly, sparkling and gilded.
Elizabeth drew in a deep breath, happy to be free of the parlor and out in the bracing autumnal air.
They walked in silence, Charlotte appearing contemplative. Elizabeth made no effort to draw out her friend. The quiet was pleasant after Mrs. Bennet’s earlier monologue.
“I cannot imagine Mr. Bingley would choose me over Jane,” Charlotte said, finally breaking their silence as they strode between the first two buildings along the main street of Meryton. “No man would.”
“That is not true,” Elizabeth replied as she scanned the street, so as not to slight anyone with a lack of greeting. “You have a great deal to offer a husband.”
“Is that why I am seven and twenty and have had nary a suitor?” Charlotte’s voice held amusement.
“Jane is two and twenty and if Mr. Bingley is a suitor, he will be her first serious one. The lack is in the gentlemen hereabouts, not in you,” Elizabeth said firmly. A group of people exiting one of the shops caught her attention. Was that—
“You are a good friend, but I am not a fool, nor seeking hollow compliments.” Charlotte’s middling brown curls swayed as she shook her head.
“I know I am plain and lack the dowry to make up for being so. I simply wish for it to be clear between us, so that you may assure Jane that no matter what my mother might say, I am not pursuing Mr. Bingley.”
—yes, it was. Mr. Bingley himself. Sighting them, he waved.
Laughter bubbled into Elizabeth’s voice as she replied, “That assertion would carry more weight were he not trying to attract your attention this very moment.”
“Who?” Charlotte asked, her forehead creasing.
Elizabeth gestured up the street.
Charlotte turned to look, then cast Elizabeth a quick, bemused smile.
Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley beside him, waved again from where he stood outside Meryton’s sundries shop, then said something to the other two.
Mr. Darcy’s features squeezed into a grimace, an expression echoed on Miss Bingley’s visage as she spoke to her brother.
With a shrug, Mr. Bingley started in Elizabeth and Charlotte’s direction.
After a moment, his two companions followed.
“What would you wager that he said he wants to walk with us, and they attempted to forestall him?” Elizabeth said quietly to Charlotte as they adjusted their course to meet Mr. Bingley. “Miss Bingley looks as if she sipped vinegar.”
“Do curb your tongue,” Charlotte murmured back, but amusement colored her words.
“My tongue is always curbed.”
“Your tongue is always quick, as is your wit and your judgment,” Charlotte countered.
“But they are so easily judged.” Elizabeth lowered her voice further as they drew nearer to the Bingleys and Mr. Darcy. “They offer up such ready evidence of their snobbery and disdain.”
“Perhaps it is simply their London ways.”
Elizabeth snorted. “I have met other people from London, you know. They were not such as these.” Still, she joined Charlotte in greeting Mr. Bingley with a curtsy and a warm regard, then did her best to maintain the expression as Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy joined them.
“Did I hear some mention of people from London as I approached?” Mr. Darcy’s eyes shone bright with interest. He looked about, as if someone worthy of his notice might appear.
Elizabeth was dismayed by, and impressed with, his keen hearing. Hopefully he hadn’t picked out many more words.