Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
FORBIDDEN NAMES
The morning after an assembly was usually spent in the pleasant occupation of recollecting every particular of the evening’s diversions, with each bow, compliment, and dance partner subjected to thorough examination and judgment.
But Elizabeth was in no mood for such frivolities.
Mr. Darcy’s cutting dismissal still rankled, though she was determined not to show it.
She entered the breakfast room to find her sisters already engaged with the morning-after ritual.
“Mr. Bingley danced with Jane twice,” Lydia announced, buttering her toast. “Everyone noticed.”
“And with Miss King and Miss Goulding,” Kitty added. “But he watched Jane during every set he didn’t dance with her.”
Jane’s cheeks colored prettily. “You exaggerate. Mr. Bingley was merely being polite.”
“Polite?” Lydia laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it? He couldn’t take his eyes off you!”
“His manners were all that is proper,” Jane insisted, though her blush deepened.
Elizabeth took her seat, accepting a cup of tea from Hill. “His friend, however, seemed to find our country gathering beneath his dignity.”
“Mr. Darcy?” Kitty wrinkled her nose. “He looked as if he’d swallowed something sour.”
“Yet he danced with Charlotte Lucas,” Mary observed, glancing up from her book of sermons. “And Mrs. Hurst. He exhibits selective disdain.”
Mrs. Bennet swept into the room in a flurry of lace with her morning cap askew. “Did I hear you mention Mr. Bingley? Such a charming young man. How particularly attentive he was to Jane.”
Elizabeth exchanged an amused glance with Jane as their mother settled herself at the table, immediately commanding the conversation.
“I made certain to mention to Lady Lucas that he danced with Jane twice,” Mrs. Bennet continued, helping herself to tea. “Sir William was most impressed by the attention.”
“Lady Lucas can hardly object,” Kitty pointed out, “since Mr. Darcy chose Charlotte for the first set.”
Elizabeth studied her buttered toast, demurring to mention that she had suggested he stand up to Miss Lucas. It would have been befitting for Sir William’s enthusiastic introductions.
“Although Mr. Darcy has ten thousand a year and an estate in Derbyshire,” Mrs. Bennet replied dismissively. “I would not trade Mr. Bingley’s amiable temper for Mr. Darcy’s fortune if he scowled so dreadfully at everyone.”
The arrival of Charlotte Lucas and her mother provided fresh fodder for the morning’s dissection. They were welcomed with enthusiasm, Lady Lucas accepting a cup of tea while Charlotte took a seat beside Elizabeth.
“We were just discussing last night’s assembly,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Were you not struck by Mr. Bingley’s particular attention to my Jane?”
“Indeed,” Lady Lucas replied diplomatically. “Though I believe all the young ladies received some notice. Charlotte herself opened the ball with Mr. Darcy.”
“Yes.” Mrs. Bennet latched onto this new topic. “Tell us, Charlotte, what was he like as a partner? He looked so severe from across the room.”
Charlotte’s composure remained intact, though Elizabeth noticed a slight flush touch her friend’s cheeks. “Mr. Darcy dances well. His conversation was limited but perfectly civil.”
“Did he speak at all?” Lydia asked. “He looked incapable of normal human interaction.”
“Lydia,” Jane gently admonished.
“He inquired about local landmarks,” Charlotte answered. “And whether I found country assemblies enjoyable. Nothing of particular significance.”
“Yet he selected you for the first set,” Lady Lucas couldn’t help adding with maternal pride. “A gentleman of such consequence noticing Charlotte immediately.”
“Well, he certainly didn’t dance with our Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet observed with peculiar emphasis. “Though I saw you speaking with him at length, Lizzy. What could he possibly have said to you?”
The question was more rhetorical than meant to be answered. Elizabeth was accustomed to her mother’s criticism of her over the years.
Charlotte leaned forward, intervening. “Their conversation appeared quite engaging. I’m sure he was vastly entertained with what our Eliza had to say.”
Multiple pairs of inquiring eyes turned her way.
“Oh, it was pure politeness,” Elizabeth demurred. “I merely inquired whether he was enjoying his stay at Netherfield and whether he found Hertfordshire educational.”
“Well, I found Mr. Darcy to be particularly interesting,” Lydia crowed. “I do not believe a man could scowl deeper than our Lizzy. Those dark eyebrows of his appeared connected. Lizzy, whatever did you say to make him so dreadful?”
Mr. Bennet, hidden behind his newspaper at the head of the table, made a noncommittal grunt. Her father had been unusually quiet since the assembly, contributing none of his typical sardonic observations.
“Our Lizzy lives to provoke.” Mrs. Bennet’s voice rose to a pitch that made the teacups rattle.
“Although I daresay Mr. Darcy deserved her verbal barbs. Never have I encountered such an insufferably proud, disagreeable man. The way he looked down his nose at our company, as if we were beneath his notice entirely.”
Elizabeth found herself in the uncomfortable position of agreeing with her mother’s assessment while simultaneously wishing to distance herself from such vehement disapproval. “He was certainly… reserved in his manners.”
“Reserved!” Mrs. Bennet’s laugh held no humor whatsoever.
“He was downright rude. He danced only twice the entire evening while eligible young ladies sat without partners. And to dismiss our Lizzy as merely tolerable in front of everyone. The insufferable pride of the man. Ten thousand a year or not, I have never met a more disagreeable person in all my life.”
Elizabeth winced. “I assure you, Mama, my vanity is quite robust enough to survive Mr. Darcy’s disinterest. Indeed, I consider it a compliment to be disliked by someone so determined to find fault with everyone.”
“Perhaps Mr. Darcy’s interest is more nuanced,” Lady Lucas said, sipping her teacup delicately. “He seemed quite engaged with Lizzy’s wit.”
“If only the affable Mr. Bingley did not encumber himself with such disagreeable company,” Mrs. Bennet lamented. “His sisters seemed less than impressed with our company.”
“Miss Bingley’s gown must have cost twenty pounds at least,” Lydia declared with authority. “All that French lace and those feathers in her hair. Though the orange color did nothing for her complexion.”
“And such a haughty manner,” Kitty added. “She looked at everyone as if we were servants.”
“Her brother’s income allows for certain pretensions,” Lady Lucas said diplomatically. “Though I found her perfectly civil when Sir William introduced us.”
“I do believe we should like to call on them,” Mrs. Bennet said, darting a glance at Mr. Bennet, who remained hidden behind his newspaper.
“My dear Jane, with Mr. Bingley’s evident admiration for you, we should all become better acquainted.
And such a fortune! Twenty thousand a year at least, or so Mrs. Long informed me. ”
Mr. Bennet folded his newspaper. “I trust Mrs. Long’s intelligence on matters of fortune is more reliable than her intelligence on matters of gossip, which is to say, not at all.”
“Oh, Mr. Bennet, you are too severe. But surely you must acknowledge that Mr. Bingley showed particular attention to our Jane? And with such an estate as Netherfield—”
“Estates,” Mr. Bennet observed dryly, “do not generally attach themselves to their tenants upon expiration of the lease.”
“I had thought to invite the Netherfield party to dine with us next week,” Mrs. Bennet continued, “when Mr. Bennet has paid his call on Mr. Bingley. It is important to cement the acquaintance quickly, you know.”
“Must I indeed?” He sounded exasperated. “I believe Sir William has already done him the honor.”
“The sooner you call on him, Mr. Bennet, the sooner we may invite him to Longbourn,” Mrs. Bennet pressed. “We cannot be the last to welcome him to the neighborhood.”
“Shouldn’t we?” Mr. Bennet’s voice was oddly flat. “Then I regret to inform you that we shall be exactly that, for I have no intention of calling on Mr. Bingley at all.”
The silence that followed this pronouncement was absolute. Even Mary, who had been quietly reading at the far end of the table, looked up in surprise.
“No intention?” Mrs. Bennet finally sputtered. “But—but you must! It is a common courtesy to our new neighbor, and Jane’s future happiness may depend upon it.”
“I am not in the habit of arranging my social calendar around the matrimonial fantasies you concoct within five minutes of meeting a gentleman,” Mr. Bennet replied, folding his newspaper with deliberate precision.
“Mr. Bingley has leased Netherfield. He has not, to my knowledge, leased any of my daughters.”
“But Mr. Bennet,” Mrs. Bennet sputtered, “you cannot be serious. The proprieties must be observed! How can we expect Mr. Bingley to call upon Jane if you do not first call upon him?”
“Then I suppose Mr. Bingley will not be calling upon Jane.”
“Not calling upon Jane?” Mrs. Bennet’s voice cracked with the strain of her emotions. “Mr. Bennet, you cannot mean to deny our daughter such an opportunity. What possible objection could you have to calling on such an eligible young man who has shown a decided preference for your daughter?”
Mr. Bennet’s expression hardened. “My objections are my own, madam, and not subject to debate. I will not have them at Longbourn.”
“Them?” Mrs. Bennet’s voice rose another octave. “Do you mean to say you object to Mr. Bingley because of that horrid Mr. Darcy? Just because that insufferable man found fault with our Lizzy, you would punish poor Jane? How can you be so unreasonable?”
“My decision is final.”