Chapter Six #3
“I should like to hear more of this matchmaking party, Miss Fairfax. I have heard that Frank Churchill was of the party, and I have always been so curious about Mr. Weston’s son.
His story is quite a fanciful one, being taken in by his wealthy aunt.
How tragic and vexing that he never comes to visit Highbury!
Perhaps with Mr. Weston purchasing Randalls, he may yet be tempted to do so. ”
Elizabeth hardly knew what to say, for Miss Woodhouse had not actually asked her anything. Fearing she may inadvertently reveal Jane’s attachment to that gentleman, Elizabeth spoke with great caution. “He was not long amongst us; his aunt fell ill, and then she asked him to join her in Bath.”
Miss Woodhouse scoffed. “Always the invalid aunt! Poor man, that he must always be bound to her whims.”
Elizabeth was inclined to agree. Mr. Churchill was bound indeed; so much so that he had been obliged to keep his attachment to Jane a secret.
Elizabeth did not entirely approve of that.
She believed her sister to deserve better – Jane was worthy enough to be openly acknowledged and admired.
She was relieved that Jane herself was not present to hear of Miss Woodhouse’s fascination with the man, which would only compound the misery of their attachment being kept secret.
“My aunt Lady Gresham was relieved that none of her other guests were obliged to depart so quickly,” Elizabeth said; this was not explicitly true where the Campbells were concerned, but she was eager to turn the subject from her future brother-in-law.
Her efforts were unnecessary, however. Three gentlemen were announced; Mr. George Knightley had brought the new neighbors for a visit.
Elizabeth instantly recognized which of them was Mr. Knightley, for he had featured prominently in Jane’s sketchbook.
The other two gentlemen were both younger, and just as handsome as promised.
Any sketch Jane made of either of them might be worthy of display in a gallery.
Mr. Knightley introduced the gentlemen, who were apparently yet unknown to the family at Hartfield. The fair, affable Mr. Charles Bingley was the new tenant of the unnamed manor, which he claimed suited him perfectly, and where he hoped to soon receive them all as his guests.
The taller gentleman, handsomer than his friend with dark curly hair and an exquisite jawline, was Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.
Elizabeth instantly supposed that Pemberley must be paradise itself, for Mr. Darcy did not look pleased at finding himself elsewhere.
While he declared nothing more cheerful than considering the manor adequate and being pleased to meet them all, his charming friend was waxing poetical on the beauty of the county, his manor and Hartfield, the many flowers in bloom between the two houses, and all the fine ladies he now encountered.
Elizabeth smiled brightly as she imagined the pair to be rather like herself and Jane.
Once they had acclimated to one another, their conversations were terribly one-sided, with Elizabeth always speaking animatedly as Jane listened, contributing only when it was something of substantial import.
But at least Jane listened with good cheer.
Mr. Darcy only stared at her with a look of unaccountable severity.
Of course, her family’s circumstances had been explained in the introductions; she was a visiting relative of modest fortune, staying with a widow and a spinster of equally modest gentility.
A man who owned a veritable oasis in the north could hardly be troubled to approve of these country nobodies, their flowery fields, and their limited connections.
Even Miss Woodhouse, the darling of the country, seemed not to impress him, for she warranted only the barest of scowls; all his darkest looks he saved for Elizabeth.
Conversely, Miss Woodhouse seemed to already consider Mr. Darcy her particular property when he took a seat near her.
The absent Frank Churchill was swiftly forgotten in favor of the intensely present Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth noticed Miss Woodhouse several times attempted to speak with her new companion, a look of tremendous awe about her, but the gentleman made only the briefest replies to her inquiries.
Meanwhile, Mr. Bingley was an instant favorite with Miss Bates and Miss Taylor; even the silent Mrs. Bates looked upon him with approbation.
Mr. George Knightley made a few civil comments, welcoming Elizabeth back to the neighborhood and inquiring after the Campbells and their recent travels.
He was older than she expected him to be, and there was something in his air that reminded Elizabeth of her father.
He observed the lively conversation around them and the antics of the young Knightley children with a certain bemusement in his gaze, as if he was fond of them all, yet full of unspoken jests at their expense.
Mr. Bingley soon began to turn his attention to Elizabeth, largely at Miss Bates’s behest. “My dear Jane has just returned from Weymouth, and I daresay you must be exactly like her, sir, for I am sure she makes friends wherever she goes, and it must be just the same for you, now that you are come amongst us! Shall you attend Mr. Weston’s party tomorrow?
I have a little hope, for Jane’s sake, that there shall be a little dancing after supper.
Are you fond of dancing? Excellent! And what of your friend? ”
Mr. Bingley smiled and moved a little nearer to Elizabeth. “My friend shall be mortified if there is dancing, but I would be very well pleased, Miss Fairfax, especially if you stood up with me – and you, too, Miss Woodhouse.”
“I would be happy to,” Elizabeth said, attempting to look as bashfully pleased as Jane might. Miss Woodhouse gave an equally diffident response in the affirmative.
“Capital! Well, Miss Fairfax, I was in Weymouth last summer; I should love to compare our impressions of the place.” Mr. Bingley spoke of several of his favorite attractions in Weymouth and Elizabeth grew animated in describing her own favorite places there.
At an odd look from her grandmother, she was obliged to subdue her responses, though anybody might look lively when compared to how Mr. Darcy began to brood, insensible to those around him.
Clearly the man could not abide the pleasures of a seaside resort.
If she were at liberty to acquaint herself naturally with Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth might have turned their conversation to taste in books and music.
But Jane was engaged, and though it was a secret, she would do her sister no favors in acquainting herself too well with Mr. Bingley.
It was a pity, she thought, for he was exceedingly amiable, and though at first glance he was not as handsome as his friend, his charming manners were swiftly altering that disparity.
But then Mr. Knightley said something to Mr. Bingley about his manor, claiming the library was vastly inferior to his own at Donwell Abbey.
Mr. Bingley laughed and shook his head. “‘Tis a deficiency that is hardly an inconvenience. Darcy has lamented it twice already – and that is just today! Pemberley’s library is one of the finest in the land, and so too may yours be, Mr. Knightley, but I should hardly notice. I am not a great reader, for I must own I prefer being out of doors.”
“One might read out of doors, naturally,” Miss Woodhouse sniffed.
“You might indeed, if you could ever keep to your reading list,” Mr. Knightley teased her.
Mr. Bingley looked as if he would appeal to Elizabeth for a favorable opinion, but she swiftly turned her gaze away, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing.
Knowing that he was no great reader, though his brooding friend surely was, had now rendered Mr. Darcy irrefutably the handsomer of the pair.
She supposed this was for the best, for Jane was not at liberty to form an attachment with the charming newcomer, and there was no danger of Elizabeth losing her heart to a man who did not read.
And she was certainly safe from Mr. Darcy; they would likely never speak, if he carried on as he had begun.