Chapter Eight
Randalls was a small estate with very little parkland; the manor was about the size of Longbourn.
A great many torches had been lit along the graveled front drive, though the sun had not fully set when Mr. Weston’s guests began to arrive.
Mr. Knightley had sent his own carriage to collect Elizabeth, Miss Bates, and Mrs. Bates, though their walk would have been half the distance as his own.
The carriage came to a stop and they all disembarked at the same moment that Mr. Knightley was approaching on foot, and Miss Bates hastened to thank him before leading her mother into the house.
Mr. Weston was standing in front of the large double doors, speaking with Miss Taylor and Miss Woodhouse, but the latter moved away to greet the new arrivals.
She teased Mr. Knightley for arriving in such a fashion, but that gentleman informed Miss Woodhouse that he had made his barouche available to the Bateses, and offered Elizabeth his arm as they made their way into the house.
Miss Woodhouse and Miss Taylor followed, and when they all entered the parlor, their gaze landed on Elizabeth as the two women whispered together, making evident the direction of their speculation.
Elizabeth spoke with Mr. Knightley for a few minutes; she found him as genial as Jane had described the man, but she was still of the opinion that he was too like her father for her to think of him as anything more than an amusing companion.
It was not long before the rest of their party arrived, and Miss Woodhouse sought out Elizabeth to lament that Mr. Frank Churchill was not in attendance, despite his father’s high hopes.
This was a relief to Elizabeth, for his presence would have only added difficulty to the challenge of pretending to be her sister.
Already she struggled to keep silent as Jane might when really she wished to give voice to some witticism.
Suppressing her mirth was entirely against her character.
Her reserve was further tested when Miss Woodhouse presented the new vicar, who had lately arrived in Highbury while Jane and Elizabeth were in Weymouth.
Mr. Elton was a handsome young man, though nothing to the other newcomers.
He was accompanied by his sister Miss Elton, who had come for a short visit to help her brother settle in at the vicarage.
“I did not see you in church this morning,” Mr. Elton said. “I am sure I would have taken notice of any friend of Miss Woodhouse.”
“My aunt and grandmother indulged me after my return from Weymouth; I slept uncommonly late, for which I fear I cannot repent.”
Miss Elton tittered with amusement and Mr. Elton smiled brightly. “Miss Woodhouse, I trust you will set the good example, as you are the perfect parishioner, I am sure.”
The Eltons were a ridiculous pair, each of them entirely too sensible of their own good looks, and seeming to overestimate how far their classical beauty might get them in the company of several eligible prospects.
Miss Woodhouse was clearly Mr. Elton’s object, though that lady seemed unaware of it herself.
Miss Elton, like Miss Woodhouse, gazed about the room at the two rich and handsome fellows, as if willing them to look over and fall at her feet.
Elizabeth was sure that her three companions were all so distracted that she might spout whatever nonsense she liked, and she was on the verge of doing so when Mr. Darcy chanced to turn round and fixed Elizabeth with a glowering stare. Miss Elton tittered nervously.
“What a pity that I must return home in less than a week,” Miss Elton sighed. “Just when there are so many new faces in the village – and some of them uncommonly handsome faces.”
“It will be a great loss to me, to see you go, Violet,” Mr. Elton agreed, though he did not take his eyes off of Miss Woodhouse. “The vicarage seems like Heaven itself when there is a lady in residence; I believe that is how it ought to be, always.”
Miss Woodhouse appeared not to notice his implication in her direction. “Does your sister mean to reside with you?”
Miss Woodhouse seemed unaware of the vicar and focused on Elizabeth until Mr. Elton also looked her way.
“Alas, she is wanted by our aunt, an old widow – you must understand, Miss Fairfax. It is painful for me to deny her any extension of her visit here, for I had high hopes of furthering the intimacy between the vicarage and Hartfield.”
Miss Woodhouse remained indifferent to his overtures. “How different we are! After a visit from my sister, I rather enjoy the quiet at home – but my sister comes with five children and a rather grumpy husband.”
“A house full of children may please you more someday, when they are your own,” Mr. Elton said with a smarmy smile.
Elizabeth heroically fought off the impulse to screw up her face. “Will you give such advice from the pulpit, sir?”
Miss Elton giggled. “There are enough young people in this room alone, Brother, who might wish to hear a certain passage in Genesis – be fruitful and multiply….”
Miss Woodhouse gaped at the girl with wide eyes, and then briefly met Elizabeth’s gaze – they shared a look of high humor at Miss Elton’s boldness.
Fortunately, Mr. Weston began to wave the Eltons over, and Elizabeth was left alone with Miss Woodhouse, who smiled at her. “I fear I have often undervalued your reticence, Miss Fairfax; Miss Elton’s verbosity has taught me to appreciate the merits of a reserved disposition.”
Elizabeth nodded as Miss Woodhouse confirmed her suspicion that Jane had never gotten along with Miss Woodhouse due to the vast difference in their temperaments.
Were she at liberty to be herself, Elizabeth would likely be fast friends with Miss Woodhouse.
She was confident, and there was a trace of superiority in her air, but she clearly possessed a cheerful sense of humor, which was the vital thing in Elizabeth’s estimation.
Indeed, she vastly preferred friends with flaws and follies; nobody could like a perfect person.
“Those of us who are reserved are perhaps well complemented by a more candid companion.” Elizabeth offered Miss Woodhouse an encouraging smile.
Miss Woodhouse smiled back, looking genuinely pleased, and then she took a step closer and leaned in to whisper.
“I believe that must be the case with the two gentlemen making their way toward us. Mr. Bingley has a vast deal to say, and his friend nothing at all. But perhaps Mr. Bingley does not have the vexation of Mr. Darcy being better at absolutely everything than he is.”
Elizabeth’s brows shot up. She wondered if this was some hint that Miss Woodhouse envied Jane, who was indeed accomplished in a variety of ways, even outstripping Elizabeth in music, drawing, dancing, and foreign languages.
But then, she could not be vexed with Jane for it, as they were sisters – Miss Woodhouse had not that reason.
Mr. Bingley and his silent, scowling friend did indeed approach. The former was smiling broadly, and he began to compliment Mr. Weston’s home in so thorough a fashion that Elizabeth supposed he must credit Miss Woodhouse in selecting it for him. And apparently, she had.
Miss Woodhouse, however, was not content to receive Mr. Bingley’s praise; she would have Mr. Darcy’s notice as well. “Miss Fairfax and I have been speaking of the advantages of complementary dispositions – a gregarious friend and a reticent one, for instance.”
“Ha! You must mean me and Darcy!” Mr. Bingley laughed and gave his friend a good-natured nudge. “Well, I cannot think you know a thing about such terrible burdens, Miss Woodhouse, for surely your friend Miss Fairfax has more to say than my friend Darcy.”
“Aye, and so does my grandmother," Elizabeth blurted out.
Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Bingley both gaped at her for a second before laughing merrily.
Mr. Darcy glanced across the room at Mrs. Bates, who sat silently beside her daughter as Miss Bates spoke with John and Isabella Knightley.
He looked back at Elizabeth with a grimace.
“I am very sorry for whatever afflicts your grandmother, which must surely command greater respect than such a jest,” Mr. Darcy replied stonily. “As for myself, I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush with heat at this rebuke, but Miss Woodhouse was to be her ally, it seemed. “Miss Fairfax has always been timid and reserved, but she put her fate into the hands of strangers when she went away with the Campbells as a child.”
“Then Miss Fairfax is very brave,” Mr. Bingley said. “This must be the family you mentioned yesterday, the friends of your poor late parents.”
Elizabeth supposed it had been brave of Jane to give up the comfort of home in favor of going abroad with people who were, when she was a girl, entirely unknown to her.
“Yes, I have gone on a great many adventures with them these ten years. But I wonder why a man of sense and education, who has lived in the world longer than I, should be ill-qualified to recommend himself to strangers.”
She smiled as she gave Mr. Darcy a look of challenge; if he was uncomfortable, it was no more than he deserved after spending the entirety of yesterday’s visit brooding at them all and taking no pains to acquaint himself with anybody.
He looked gratifyingly affronted. “My reasons are my own,” he said gravely, before turning and stalking away.
Mr. Bingley looked mortified. “You must forgive Darcy, as I know you are both kind and generous enough to do. He has been in low spirits since – well, I thought it might cheer him to have a change of scenery.”
Miss Woodhouse sneered a little, as if she might suggest a trip to the very devil might be advisable for Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth forced a tight smile. “I shall hazard a guess that you are very fond of the country, sir.”