Chapter 3
Elizabeth
Elizabeth Bennet eagerly climbed into the carriage. Of course she was eager: she missed William, although it had only been seven hours since she had seen him. But also….
It was strange to say, but Elizabeth was looking forward to meeting Mr Bingley’s snobbish sisters again.
She wondered if they would behave well in order to maintain a cordial relationship with the Darcys, or if they would be even more unpleasant—out of envy or pique, perhaps.
Either way, Elizabeth planned to be diverted.
“Are you looking forward to meeting Mr Bingley’s sisters?” she asked Jane.
“Of course,” her peace-loving sister said with her usual sweet smile.
“They were not very friendly when I met them in London,” Elizabeth said. “But I expect, with the closer connexion, they will be more agreeable.”
Jane’s eyes widened. She whispered, “I had forgotten that you met them. They were the ones flaunting their diamonds, correct?”
“Yes. Miss Bingley said to me, ‘I cannot imagine that you could possibly be the daughter of the Earl of Bennethood, could you? And assuming that of course your answer will be no, who is your father?’”
“Oh, Lizzy, that is certainly not what she said,” Jane insisted with a laugh. “But I am sorry if she made you feel uncomfortable.”
Elizabeth arched one eyebrow but smiled widely. “I felt perfectly comfortable, honestly. I was glad William informed me what made the women feel so insecure, because I did not feel picked on; rather, I felt pity.”
Jane quipped, “And that is what we all hope to receive from others—their pity.”
Laughing, Elizabeth said, “Jane! You made a joke!”
Jane smiled and said, “I hope you will eventually recover from the shock.”
They reached Netherfield, where Mr Bingley, Georgiana, and William waited on the front steps, and William handed them out of the carriage.
Elizabeth hugged Georgiana and smiled up at William, feeling as if the warmth of his gaze and the delight in his dimpled smile gave her spirit a kind of nourishment, as food fed her body.
She enjoyed the feeling of his strong arm under her hand as he led her to Netherfield’s most ornate drawing room, which had much gilt moulding and gold-coloured upholstery.
Mr Bingley took on the task of making the introductions, and the Hursts and Miss Bingley said all the expected niceties.
Before everyone took seats, Elizabeth was surprised to find Mrs Hurst approaching her with a kind smile.
She said softly, “Miss Elizabeth, I very much wish to apologise for my manner the first time we met. I was feeling very low that night, but I know that does not excuse my incivility. If you would forgive me, I thought we might attempt to begin our acquaintance fresh.”
Elizabeth studied the woman’s expression for a heartbeat and decided that she meant what she said. Smiling warmly back at the woman, Elizabeth said, “Of course; I would like that.”
Elizabeth, William, and Georgiana took seats together, and Mr and Mrs Hurst sat nearby; the group talked of roads and weather. Elizabeth liked Mr Hurst’s open manner and was pleased when he said, “Miss Elizabeth, I hear you are a devotee of Wordsworth.”
“I am indeed,” she replied. “Although this week I am entirely ensnared by the words of Walter Scott, and I imagine I might be extolling the virtues of Lord Byron sometime next month.”
Mr Hurst laughed. “I have an especially soft spot for Shakespearian sonnets, but I too enjoy the work of many different poets, including those you have mentioned and Coleridge.”
William said, “I would add William Blake and Robert Burns to the list—and I have to mention the ladies who have graced us with their poetry: Charlotte Smith, Anna Laetitia Barbauld, and Mary Robinson.”
“I so admire Anna Laetitia Barbauld!” Elizabeth said. “Not only has she offered us all her poetry, she has elevated our conversation and philosophy—as when she raised her voice on abolitionism—and she has inspired other poets.”
Mrs Hurst said, “I am quite new to any of this, and I have been relying on my husband’s tutelage, but now I must soundly scold him for not even mentioning a single poetess.
” Her smile softened her words, and everyone chuckled.
She continued, “It seems that my admiration for Mr Darcy, which used to be directed to his more visible blessings of wealth and position, should have been focused on the extent of his knowledge and his egalitarianism.”
Mr Hurst laughed heartily and said, “Well, my dear, now you have a husband with many visible blessings!” He patted his rather extensive waistline.
Elizabeth’s laughter was accompanied by blushing, and she said, “Oh dear, I was doing well with the poetry, but I am all at sea when we speak of blessings. Except to say that I feel so blessed, myself.”
William reached his hand to hers and gave her hand a little squeeze. “I too feel blessed.”
In the pause that followed his tender gesture, the two couples heard Miss Bingley’s acerbic tones; she was speaking with Jane and Mr Bingley, and she said, “Oh, dear Miss Bennet, you must tell me of your charming town. It is so…provincial!”
Elizabeth caught Mrs Hurst’s eyes and asked softly, “Is your sister still feeling low?”
Mrs Hurst said, “Caroline is perhaps even more insecure than last spring. Before I met Mr Hurst—” and her smile and glance at her husband gave warmth to the formal address she used— “I admit that I went along with some of Caroline’s schemes.
But even then she was an enigma. The way she thinks about things is quite foreign to me.
I will not again participate with her plotting against others. ”
Leaning towards Elizabeth and William, Mr Hurst said in a low voice, “When you are dealing with Caroline, you would do well to consider how like she is to the witches in Macbeth.” He nodded when he saw their surprised expressions.
“Yes, she is our ‘Weird Sister,’ and we must mind her, but you would do well to avoid her as much as you are able.”
“That is our goal,” William affirmed quietly.
At that moment, dinner was announced, and Bingley said with an affable smile, “Shall we all just careen in?” He linked his arms with Miss Bingley and Jane; Mr Hurst escorted his wife, leaving William to see to his own sister and Elizabeth.
The meal was delicious, but the conversation was less cordial than it might have been, for Miss Bingley dominated by relating gossip about people Elizabeth did not know.
Looking at the others’ faces, Elizabeth was almost positive that they too did not know or at least did not care about the people whose reputation Miss Bingley gleefully shredded.
Mrs Hurst attempted to turn the conversation to her first impressions of Netherfield Park, but Miss Bingley raised the volume of her voice slightly, and Mrs Hurst gave up.
Elizabeth was considering whether she should make an effort to change the subject, but before she could decide, William—reticent though he was—said, “Miss Bingley, I wonder if you could let me know the name for this delicious condiment.” He waved his fork subtly to indicate the red jelly that accompanied the pork roast.
“Oh! That is red currant jelly, sir.” Miss Bingley looked delighted to be asked.
“It is delicious; please give my compliments to the chef.”
Miss Bingley visibly preened. “Thank you. I certainly will. I believe it is important to be very specific when ordering menus. The correct sauce with the best fish, the latest accompaniment for the freshest vegetables, the most flavourful jelly with a pork roast.”
William looked surprised and asked, “I did not realise that you had planned tonight’s menu. How did you manage to do so while travelling?”
It was a testament to Miss Bingley’s personality that she neither flushed nor blanched at the question; she acted as if she had not, just moments ago, presumed to claim having planned the dinner.
“Of course I could not set tonight’s menu, but you will find that I will do an admirable job henceforth. ”
“I planned tonight’s dinner, William,” Georgiana murmured.
Elizabeth heard her words, and replied so others could hear, “You did a wonderful job, Georgiana.”
“Yes, truly splendid,” William affirmed.
Georgiana looked pleased but kept her eyes cast downward.
The Hursts and Mr Bingley also complimented her efforts, but before long Miss Bingley overwhelmed other voices as she went on and on about what skills and attributes a lady must have to be considered accomplished.
Mr Bingley declared that there was no need to separate the sexes after the meal that night. “Especially given that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth will have to leave us soon.” Instead, he proposed two tables of cards, “If Miss Darcy or Mrs Green will join us for cards, Darce. What do you think?”
“If it is Vingt-un, I would approve in this small family-esque group.” William looked at Georgiana with his eyebrows raised in question, and she nodded, looking quite eager.
William ensured that Georgiana was at the same table as him, Elizabeth, and Mrs Hurst. Their game was pleasant, with occasional witty commentary and plenty of celebration of others’ successes and commiseration for others’ losses.
They played for pennies, but William had provided the pennies for the three other players, and the coins were restored to him at the end.
In essence, everyone played for the fun of the game.
Apparently the game Jane, Bingley, Hurst, and Miss Bingley played was much more contentious.
Miss Bingley wanted the stakes to be high, and Jane begged off; but Bingley insisted she continue to play, giving her the funds to do so.
There was less noise than at the other table, but much more tension and a surprising amount of complaining.
Elizabeth glanced over with some frequency, worried about Jane, but her sister appeared serene.
As for the others, Bingley laughed at times but frowned at some of Miss Bingley’s worst excesses; Hurst vacillated between laughter and expressing emotions ranging from bewilderment to disapproval with his eyes and brows; and Miss Bingley’s expressions segued from feigned cheer to feigned nonchalance to sincere displeasure.
After an hour, Netherfield’s butler announced that the Bennet carriage was ready to take the ladies home, and William said a fond good night to Miss Bennet and then walked Elizabeth to a bit of shrubbery to express a much fonder good night to her.
After just a few kisses, they both sighed, and he walked her to the carriage and helped her climb up.
Elizabeth could not drag her eyes from William as the carriage started towards home, but when they finally took the turn that hid him from her sight, she turned to her sister and said, “I am pleased to say that I very much like Mr Hurst, and I appreciated that Mrs Hurst came to me and apologised for her former behaviour. I like her too!”
“Yes, they were both pleasant,” Jane agreed.
“But…do you think you can stand to be around Miss Bingley?”
“I suppose she was even more insecure tonight than she had been when she first met you, Lizzy. I gather that she had hopes of Mr Darcy?”
“Hopes that would never have come to pass, even if he and I never met. He dislikes and distrusts her quite a lot.”
“Oh, dear, I feel for her. It would be so painful to really like someone who disliked you.”
“But you see why, do you not? She does not treat others well. And I cannot even see her liking William; all I see is her liking his status and his estate. And, I assume, his money. Would it not grate on your nerves to have someone agree with everything you say, praise everything you do, and yet not even really know you—but instead, to just want your money?”
Jane shuddered. “That would be terrible. It would be worse than someone just wanting you to be an ornament on his arm.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught as she considered her sister’s words. Did she feel as if Mr Bingley only liked her for her physical beauty? Or was she speaking generally?