9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
E lizabeth had returned to London with Maria Lucas. The relatives of each were curious, but Maria’s cousins were far too in awe of Lady Catherine’s carriage to notice any implied slight by the early appearance of the two young ladies. And Elizabeth’s relations were far too polite to press beyond some very general enquiries. Though, her aunt Gardiner did have a puzzled draw to her brow when Elizabeth gave vague replies to her startled questions as to why they had ended their visit to Kent a week early.
Elizabeth sat in the drawing room on Gracechurch Street with Jane, pleased to be with her most beloved sister. Their young cousins were at lessons with their governess, and Mrs Gardiner was calling upon a close friend who had recently taken to bed while expecting the arrival of her first child. Mr Gardiner was just across the street at his warehouses and not expected back anytime soon.
Though she was content to be back with Jane, Elizabeth felt distracted and unable to focus on the book before her. Her mind was in a haze, like soft silky seeds of cattails clouded her vision when she attempted to focus her energies on any particular task.
Resting the novel on her lap, she turned her gaze up to Jane. Her sister was steadily pressing a needle and thread through fabric as she created an extraordinary, complex tapestry of flowers. Elizabeth bit her lower lip.
“Jane,” she ventured, finally rallying some courage to broach the subject, “do you remember how Papa requested that we never sing before gentlemen?”
Startled, Jane lifted her head. “Why, of course. It is perhaps an… odd request, but not an unreasonable one. If it is his wish, then we must respect it.”
“We should try our utmost to respect his wishes, I agree. But, have you ever sung before a man?”
“No, not after I gave him my solemn promise. I would never attempt such an act. It would be a defiance of our father that I cannot imagine committing.”
Elizabeth shook her head, guilt surging in her heart. “What if you were overheard by accident?” She wrung her hands in her lap, feeling foolish. Awkwardness rarely ever came between Elizabeth and Jane, there existed such an easy, comfortable level of discourse between them.
Surprised, Jane leaned over and placed one hand on top of Elizabeth’s. “Has something occurred you wish to tell me about?”
Elizabeth glanced about to ensure they were alone, then said, “Mr Darcy made me an offer of marriage. He heard me sing!”
Jane appeared astonished, leaning back, taking a long moment to gather her thoughts.
Elizabeth pressed on, grateful to have someone to relate her concerns to. “It was entirely by coincidence that I was singing when I thought myself to be unobserved. Mr Darcy happened to be above on Oakham Mount whilst I was behind the old Higgins Farm barn. Jane, what say you? What am I to do?”
“Lizzy! You cannot seriously be considering accepting him, can you? Why, you have told everyone of your disdain for the gentleman! I do not share your contempt of him, for though he has made declarations that could be perceived as unkind—”
Elizabeth laughed and nodded her head vigorously.
“—I have thought him to be somewhat misunderstood. His frank nature and serious demeanour must hide some worthy qualities for him to be such a close friend of Mr Bingley. You did refuse him, did you not?”
Elizabeth could only nod again, reluctantly flicking the corner of a page from her book with nervous confusion.
“He is a wealthy man, but if his feelings arose from hearing your beautiful voice, you could not possibly accept. Every instinct of honour would be counter to it. Am I correct?”
“Yes, but…”
“You think of accepting him?” Jane asked in as vehement a shocked tone as Elizabeth had ever heard from her.
“I refused him outright. And whatever could be said of his past conduct towards me, I believe I more than made up for it in the abrupt and bitter sentiments that I could not hide in my answer. I was abominable to him. I felt quite low afterwards, especially as he provided several more facts in his dealing with Wickham that we were kept in ignorance of. Wickham is not at all the honourable man we believed him to be, and I now am convinced that Mr Darcy was entirely justified in his treatment of that particular fellow.”
“Wickham a dishonourable man? Really?”
Elizabeth nodded and shared a portion of what Mr Darcy had told her. Startled, Jane mourned for the loss of Wickham’s character. Before long though, their conversation turned back to the present state of matters between Elizabeth and Mr Darcy.
“Do you really believe him to be under some sort of enchantment?”
“That is the true dilemma! When he first approached me, I declared him to be hexed by my voice. But, over the course of this past week, he was able to wear down my reservations. And now, I believe that he is truly in love with me! It may be that there is no mystic quality to it. Well, beyond the mysteries of love itself. Which, I believe, could be argued to be a magical occurrence. When does the spell of love begin to work upon us? Is it a moment? A gradual inurement that intensifies through constant exposure? My aunt has declared that the term ‘violently in love’ is hackneyed and overused. I think my father was violently in love when he proposed to Mama, but I am less certain if any of that initial passion remains. Whereas my aunt and uncle were acquainted for several years, friends first, before the thought of love entered the head of either.”
Jane sat back, her sewing completely forgotten as it slid gently to the floor, for these were profound questions that required one’s fullest attention. Elizabeth shook her head with an embarrassed smile.
“Oh, Jane! Ignore me and my silly rambles. It has been a week unlike any other, and I lay too much upon you all at once.”
“No, these are important questions you ask. I cannot claim to have the answer to any of them, though. My own judgment seems to have been poor indeed. I believe my own heart was so mistaken, so wretchedly misled by the hope of a returned affection that I do not know if I shall ever overcome my disappointment in—”
“Mr Bingley, miss.” The servant dropped a curtsey and then waved the gentleman in before receiving an approval from either Elizabeth or Jane, for she was young and green, still uncertain in her job, this likely being the first time she had ever led a handsome gentleman to the drawing room.
Elizabeth shot up to standing in a moment, startled that neither of them had heard a knock. But then she recalled that the young girl had walked past the open door earlier with a broom in her hand to sweep the stoop. She had been there to receive him.
“Mr Bingley, please do come in,” Elizabeth said with a worried glance at Jane. It was usual for the eldest to do the honours, but she was concerned that Jane, who was just now rising with a wobble in her legs and a face that had lost much of its colour, was too out of sorts to perform the office properly.
He strode in, hat in hand, for it seemed the flustered servant had not known to take it. Elizabeth reached for it as they exchanged pleasantries and called the servant back to the drawing room door.
Behind her, she could hear some earnest greetings from Mr Bingley and some hesitant responses from Jane. Elizabeth wished to give them a few more moments of privacy so they could begin to clear the muddy waters of misunderstandings.
Taking the elbow of the young servant in her hand, Elizabeth drew her out into the hall a few steps, attempting to speak clearly while also allowing herself to eavesdrop.
“Bessie, is it? Of course. Please, do not become upset. That was an admirable first run of introducing a gentleman to the drawing room.”
Mr Bingley was speaking. “…and just today, when Darcy came to call, did I discover that your sister Miss Elizabeth was to stop in London for a time, and…” His voice faded for a moment, dropping to become more earnest and low-toned.
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, then said to Bessie, “First, make certain that it is clear whether or not the residents are receiving visitors.”
Jane’s soft voice was but a little above a whisper. “…but I have been in town these several weeks, sir. When I visited your sisters—”
“You called upon Caroline? I was never told of your presence…”
Elizabeth pressed on to cover the conversation happening just a few feet from her. “And then say the visitor’s name with just a hint of flourish. The grander the person, the more you make a show of announcing it. Like this.”
Elizabeth made a solemn curtsey and raised her chin. “Lord Whatsit and Lady Whosit to see you, ma’am.” This was received with a blushing giggle from Bessie who was thoroughly enjoying the overly long explanation by Elizabeth.
Mr Bingley was exclaiming with shocked tones, “…I had no notion, Miss Bennet! Had I been aware, I would have come at once! Instantly! You must know that I hold you and your family in the highest possible regard, and it is unfortunate that…”
“And then,” Elizabeth continued, “make certain you have taken up all of the mufflers, hats, coats, gloves, canes, books, packages, onions, calling cards, weapons, musical instruments, pet elephants, flags of their nation, hurdy-gurdies, monkeys, small and large children, art easels, and anything else they may be carrying and place them in an out-of-the-way, safe place till their visit concludes. Any questions?”
By this time, Bessie was laughing and shaking her head. Elizabeth was giggling as well when she dismissed the girl and turned back to the drawing room. She stepped very slowly, for now there was an odd silence that she hoped would be attributed to one very specific activity.
Her hopes were rewarded when Jane and Mr Bingley stepped away quickly from each other. A more promising new beginning to their intimacy could hardly be imagined.
Elizabeth repressed a smile and sat down. Until tea came, Mr Bingley seemed to have no end to everything he wished to convey. He paused his happy speech only to enquire about Jane’s opinion on various topics. After a few minutes, Elizabeth made the excuse of writing a letter to Longbourn and sat at the desk in the corner to compose it for as long as she could manage with her back turned to the room. It was a task that genuinely needed attending to, for she was obliged to inform her parents that she was now in London sooner than she had anticipated due to a sudden, pretend illness at Rosings. Her mischievous inclinations were sorely tempted to tell Mrs Bennet that Mr Bingley was here and apparently resuming his former pursuit of Jane with renewed vigour. But, it would be an unkindness to the Gardiners, for she had little doubt that her mother would be arriving in the middle of the night, eager to hurry an offer of marriage along.
After a long visit that included an introduction to Mr and Mrs Gardiner and an invitation to dinner, Mr Bingley stepped aside with Elizabeth.
“I almost forgot to convey the greeting from Darcy to you and your sister. He was most particular for me to make certain that you were made aware of his greeting, Miss Elizabeth.” A slight tilt to his head and a quizzical twinkle in his eyes made Elizabeth suspect that it was more than just well-wishing that Mr Darcy wished to convey.
Elizabeth was flustered. Both Jane and now Mr Bingley knew of the strange shift in sentiments that was occurring between herself and Mr Darcy. It was aggravating to know that she was being witnessed and speculated upon before she was even entirely certain of her own regard. Surely even Colonel Fitzwilliam had his suspicions if not certain knowledge of the state of things. In Elizabeth’s opinion, being the object of conjecture was not a pleasant experience.
“Is there anything you wish me to tell him in return?” Mr Bingley asked, breaking the awkward silence.
“Yes, tell him that I hope he finds London to his liking.”
“And, that is all?”
Elizabeth felt a blush of embarrassment cross her features in a surging wave. “Thank you, that is all.”
Mr Bingley tilted his head in a small bow. When he straightened, there was most definitely a slight turn up of one corner of his mouth. She wondered if Mr Darcy had shared what had occurred in Kent; had he told all that had occurred? The poetry? The kisses?
The poetry had been a humorous lark, hardly anything to give rise to shocked exclamations. Well, that was not entirely true. Her poem had the unmistakable tone of silliness. His had been very clearly sincere.
The kisses? She had never kissed a man before last week. There were a few bold parlour games where kisses were exchanged. But what had occurred between Elizabeth and Mr Darcy was beyond the flirtatious daring of some young people to help while away a slow evening. When she recalled those particular moments, Elizabeth’s hand raised and unconsciously brushed her lips as her flesh remembered.
No. Mr Darcy was not the sort of man who would ever share such tales; she would be willing to swear to it. Before she knew him more intimately, Elizabeth would almost have thought him capable of every sort of devilment imaginable. But now, her understanding of him was so much richer and true.
Was she deeply in love? When was the moment strong attachment formed? Did his love begin when he heard her sing? Or, as he claimed, earlier?
Why must everything be so difficult with that man?
“What an agreeable fellow!” Mr Gardiner declared with an open, approving nod of his head. “I am quite happy he consented to come and dine with us tomorrow. I have heard so much about him from my sister, being the attentive neighbour that she is, it will be pleasant to spend a bit of time with him.”
His gaze landed on Jane briefly as he spoke these words, but she was entirely unaware. Lost in a state of puzzled satisfaction, her hands fidgeting restlessly with the sorely neglected sewing that had been set aside earlier, her eyes staring off softly into the distance, witness to some scene known only to her.
The remainder of the evening was spent by the Gardiners attempting to draw both Jane and Elizabeth out into further conversation, yet both ladies were distracted and frequently lapsed into thoughtful silences.