Chapter 9
Elizabeth
Jane and Elizabeth arrived at Netherfield at three o’clock, just as planned.
Mr Bingley and his ubiquitous smile bounded to the front door to greet them.
“I was a bit worried, because I was so certain you would be arriving earlier than this. But thank you for coming!” He responded to Elizabeth’s greeting but focused almost entirely on Jane, eagerly offering his arm and escorting her into the blue drawing room.
William entered the entrance hall more sedately but greeted Elizabeth with his most dimple-displaying smile. “I have something for you,” he said. “Yes, now that we are officially engaged, I am finally, at long last, giving you a proper engagement gift.”
“Wait a minute!” Elizabeth protested. “The flowers you brought me the day after we became engaged were everything proper. And the flowers you brought several other times since then—”
“—Have all turned brown or dried up by now. A truly worthy engagement gift should last much longer than a week.”
“Well, what about the 1803 First Variorum edition of Shakespeare’s sonnets?
That gift will last forever! And you know I dearly love the pocket printing you gave me of Wordsworth’s Poems, in Two Volumes, and I may indeed wear those books out—but for any other reader they would last a lifetime.
I would argue that those gifts were eminently worthy. ”
“If I pretend to agree that I have already peppered you with worthy engagement gifts, Elizabeth, will you allow me to finally, at long last, give you this gift?”
Elizabeth laughed. “I suppose.”
He showed Elizabeth into a small parlour and brought out a dark green velvet bag.
She felt her eyes widen at the thought that it might be jewellery.
She carefully pulled the drawstring open and poured the contents into her hand.
A beautiful gold comb decorated with topaz and amber was the first thing that caught her eye.
“Ohhh, I have never seen anything so beautiful!”
She looked at the other pieces. One was a topaz and diamond choker, and the others were a matching set of golden bracelets, also set with topaz and diamonds. “I cannot—William—"
“These are some of the many Darcy jewels that you will have access to. I had Richard bring these particular pieces from Darcy House because your beautiful eyes sparkle with jewel colours like these, and I thought you might wish to wear some of your jewels at your wedding or whenever. I should love to put this comb in your hair tonight, for example.”
Elizabeth felt overwhelmed. “Some of the many” jewels sounded as if there might be even more grand sets in the offing, but she reasoned that generations of Darcys had accumulated jewellery that stayed with the family.
She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and said, “Thank you so much for arranging that these family treasures be brought for my use. I will certainly thank Richard for being the means.”
“May I?” William asked, holding up the comb.
“Oh, yes.” Elizabeth put the other jewellery back into the bag and turned her back; she felt the gentle tug of the teeth as William threaded the comb into her hair.
Then, although anyone could walk in, she embraced her intended.
He held her gently, not allowing their bodies to crush together as they sometimes did, and Elizabeth realised that he was doing the right thing.
She pulled away and said, “Now, please escort me to the others.”
He put the velvet bag back into his pocket, assuring her that he had the means to lock it away safely, and then he offered her his arm.
The moment Elizabeth entered the drawing room, she heard an intake of breath.
She wondered if the colonel was gasping over the sight of her—surely not!
—and was relieved to see that it was Miss Bingley.
The woman certainly knew she was coming…
so why had she gasped? Elizabeth turned a bit so she could watch Miss Bingley out of the corners of her eyes; she realised that Miss Bingley was staring at her new hair comb.
Elizabeth took in the rest of the room, glad to see that Jane looked extremely happy on Mr Bingley’s arm as they both talked with Mr Hurst, and pleased that Richard seemed to be entirely focused on his conversation with Georgiana and Mrs Hurst.
But when Richard saw Elizabeth, she noticed a flash of something cross his face; he replaced that something with a smile, but it seemed to her that his expression was pure performance.
Whatever the emotion she had seen on his face, Elizabeth was certain that the colonel would do a credible job of pretending a cousinly friendliness, and she vowed to perform the same back at him.
After greeting him, she thanked him for his efforts in bringing her the beautiful hair ornament she wore.
Georgiana said, “Oh, William, you are completely correct—that comb does look beautiful with Elizabeth’s colouring!”
“Well done, Coz,” Richard said, smiling at William and avoiding Elizabeth’s gaze.
She was very satisfied with his ability to distance himself from her while remaining pleasant.
But she asked the question she had thought of so often: “Colonel, I have been longing to hear from Miss Cartwright. I wrote to her twice from Hertfordshire, but I have not heard back, and I wonder if she has gone to the country.”
“Oh, yes, she left London the same week you did. I am surprised that she does not have her post forwarded. Do you have her direction in the country?”
“No, I was hoping you could give it to me.”
“It is Eddleston Place, in Staffordshire.”
“Thank you so much. I hope Miss Cartwright was well when you last saw her.”
“She was, thank you.” The colonel said no more, and Elizabeth hoped that the two were still good friends—or something dearer than that.
There was quite a long time available before dinner, and Mr Bingley convinced the entire group to take a walk through the rose garden.
“It is truly spectacular!” he told the colonel, who agreed happily to such a tour and immediately offered his arm to Georgiana.
Everyone else paired off in the obvious manner, leaving poor Miss Bingley unaccompanied.
The moment Mr Bingley saw that his sister had nobody, he blushed and offered her his other arm.
She did not blush, but her nostrils rose in the air a fraction of an inch.
Elizabeth felt a wash of pity for the woman, but when the group entered a walled garden she had not yet seen this year, all thoughts of Miss Bingley flew out of her mind.
Even though it was the middle of August, many roses were in full bloom.
“Oh, my!” Elizabeth said as others made similar sounds of appreciation.
“I asked the head gardener about the roses that are blooming so late in the summer,” Mrs Hurst said. “He said that these cream-coloured beauties are called Double Musk, and the crimson blooms are called Portland roses. Of course these pink ones are Autumn Damask roses.”
Elizabeth admired all of the gorgeous flowers, but she especially liked the Damask roses, since they were so many shades of pink—some very pale, others quite vivid.
William used one finger to stroke a petal, and he murmured, “These remind me of your cheeks: so soft, so blushed, so lovely in so many rosy hues.”
“Are you, perchance, dabbling in false compare, William?”
He apparently caught her reference to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130, because he laughed his rumbly chuckle and said, “Well, Shakespeare’s love may not have blushed so much you.”
She felt herself blush, as well, and she mumbled, “I believe that nobody else in the history of the world has blushed as much as me.”
“I am not complaining…” he reassured her.
“I am, at least a bit.” She shrugged, “It is like a snowball rolling downhill—I am embarrassed, which causes me to blush, which makes me more embarrassed, which causes me to blush more….”
“And thus causing the avalanche of attraction in my heart.”
This time it was Elizabeth who laughed. “Oh, Will, such adulation borders on the ridiculous!”
He chuckled and said, “I know that you dearly love to laugh.”
As they approached Richard and Georgiana, Elizabeth noticed that William stopped his chatter and his laughter, and so she did as well.
They all nodded to one another, smiling.
Elizabeth hoped that there was not too much of fakery in their civility.
Seeing how careful the colonel was towards her, she felt that she could see a possibility of genuine friendship with him, again. Maybe. Someday.
After enjoying the beautiful rose garden, the group enjoyed cool lemonade on the veranda.
Miss Bingley clutched the colonel’s arm and asked him all manner of questions about his family.
He bore her attentions well for a while, but Elizabeth noticed that Miss Bingley’s enquiries began to take on the shape of angling for information about his fortune and the likelihood of him inheriting rather than his elder brother.
The colonel must have agreed with her assessment, for he abruptly peeled her hand off his arm, said, “Excuse me,” and left the veranda.
Elizabeth saw a bit of concern on William’s face, and she whispered, “Go,” and she gladly joined Georgiana.
The younger girl’s face lit up. She said, “I am so happy to have Richard here with us. I wish he could stay longer.”
Elizabeth understood that when the visit was over, the colonel would travel to Portsmouth and from there ship out to somewhere dangerous.
She felt positive that the careful conversations about his upcoming campaign were hushed when Georgiana was nearby, and Elizabeth did not want to be the person who caused her soon-to-be sister anxiety, so she just nodded and said, “I am certain your cousin wishes the same.”
“Oh,” Georgiana said. She looked abashed and said, “What you did not say is that he does not have the freedom to come and go as he likes, because he is in the army.”