Chapter Sixteen #2
“Oh?” Elizabeth grinned at the thought of Mr. Bingley’s amazement. Like a puppy, he was exceedingly agreeable and delighted by everything, but seemed easily confused. And yet Mr. Darcy had such an air of intelligence and discernment, rather than any of his friend’s charm!
“Bessie said that I – you – have relations in the area, so it must be a family resemblance. Father noticed this – until that moment he did not appear to be aware of our proximity to Highbury – that is a pity, for I am sure it is not very romantic of him to have forgotten.”
“Would you have him writing an ode to every tree and hill between him and our mother?” Elizabeth giggled whimsically at this, and Jane only shook her head at her sister’s antics.
“I suppose we might tell a half-truth, Jane, for surely our friends and neighbors will see our resemblance and talk of nothing else. We might still say that we are twins, and that Miss Bates and Mr. Bennet each took one of us out of affection for the late Captain Fairfax and his wife, Miss Bates’s sister.
If that it what was put about at the time of our birth, it may seem strange to conceal it now. ”
“True,” Jane agreed. “But I packed some of your special hair shading soap, if you wish to take mercy on our friends and allow them some means of distinguishing us. Perhaps at the sight of you as a brunette, your Mr. Darcy shall fall into the lake again.”
“Really, Jane! You tease me more about him than I have done to you about Mr. Churchill, and with far less reason. I only told him the truth because I believe he suspected me of far worse, and because he would notice the change in your behavior. The same goes for Emma, and I think we ought to tell her, too, for she has been fascinated with making a match between Miss Taylor and Mr. Weston, and if she has an interest in such matters, she may join the ranks of those who wish to aid our cause.”
Jane giggled “Soon we shall have the whole of Highbury in an alliance.”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at her sister. “I should not say no to that, for we have not even begun to consider what we shall do now that our parents are in the same village. You can hardly expect Papa to fall into her arms after she rejected him a decade ago.”
“Neither have I decided how we shall tell them that we know their secret,” Jane said with a frown.
“And here I was prepared to stoutly feign ignorance,” Elizabeth cried.
“Oh, but we must at least warn our mother,” Jane said seriously. “Imagine her mortification at his betrothal!”
“And to such a young woman,” Elizabeth mused, feeling a pang of sympathy for her mother. “Tomorrow after the dressmaker, we shall tell her together. I have an inkling that our grandmother is already suspicious.”
Elizabeth and Jane made their plan to meet in the morning and then parted ways.
Jane returned to the cottage, and Elizabeth made her way to Milton Hall with a spring in her step, eager to be herself again.
She was vastly looking forward to seeing Charlotte, and of course her father – she managed to convince herself that no share of her excitement was for seeing Mr. Darcy again, and often.
Chapter Seventeen
That evening, Elizabeth came down to dinner in one of her favorite gowns, her thick curls now once again darkened.
Knowing what she was up against with Caroline Bingley, Elizabeth had taken great care in her toilette; she looked every bit the indomitable heiress.
It had nothing to do with Mr. Darcy, whose jaw actually hung agape as she entered the drawing room.
She looked first for her father, and then assessed the woman at his side.
Miss Bingley was dressed far too fashionably for the country, wearing too many jewels and baubles, and her expression was haughty as she took in Elizabeth’s appearance of tasteful wealth.
Charlotte grinned at her and nodded approvingly.
Mr. Bingley came forward and introduced Elizabeth to his dear friend Mr. Darcy, who gave an admirable performance of first acquaintance, though his eyes roved over her in a way that was much different from their actual first meeting.
There was still an air of severity about him, but his eyes told her that none of his displeasure was for her.
Bingley clapped his hands eagerly. “Miss Bennet, you have darkened your hair! I am sorry for earlier – certainly I shall not mistake you for Miss Fairfax again.”
Elizabeth resisted the urge to look at her father; she betrayed no reaction to this beyond a gracious nod. Miss Bingley betrayed no interest, either, beyond scolding her brother for his folly.
Dinner was called, and Mr. Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm to lead her into the dining room.
Mr. Bingley bid them all to sit where they liked, for getting better acquainted was his chief object.
Elizabeth was not entirely surprised when Mr. Darcy took a place at her side, but Miss Bingley raised her brows before her eyes narrowed and her expression soured.
Elizabeth was in high spirits, for she loved to observe the absurd, and she was prepared to find a great deal of it in Miss Bingley.
This was fortunate, for without such a deliciously wicked diversion, Elizabeth might have driven to distraction from Mr. Darcy’s proximity.
Their kiss in the grove felt as if it had been merely a dream, some phantom of her imagination, and she supposed it was best to relegate that disconcerting recollection to the furthest corner of her mind. She needed all her wits about her.
Elizabeth’s first impression of Miss Bingley was just what Jane had prepared her to expect.
She was vain and self-important; she fawned over Mr. Bennet to the mortification of everyone else at the table, boasted of her expectations for life as mistress of Netherfield, and expressed opinions that ought to have belonged to a duchess rather than a tradesman’s daughter.
Mrs. Hurst was scarcely better, and her husband rather worse. He ate and drank a great deal, and with little attempt at decorum, and more than once expressed his preference for Milton Hall over Longbourn, where he and his wife had stayed at Mr. Bennet’s pleasure.
Charlotte was a balm to Elizabeth amidst such a scene.
They had enjoyed a private reunion while Elizabeth allowed the dyed soap to seep into her hair, and now she had only to give a certain look to communicate subtly with her intimate friend.
Charlotte was equally expressive in that way between them which required no words, and Mr. Darcy was often gazing at them as if wishing to be privy to their silent secrets.
He sometimes betrayed a look that suggested he thought no better of Miss Bingley; it occurred to Elizabeth that perhaps Mr. Darcy had not been hiding from Mr. Bingley that afternoon at the lake, but from his friend’s sister.
Elizabeth was often obliged to answer questions from Mr. Bingley, and she did her best to reciprocate as she might ordinarily do at the opening of an acquaintance, but studying Miss Bingley and her father was her first object.
Mr. Bennet often appeared sensible of his lady’s supercilious snobbery, and he occasionally made a barb that Miss Bingley understood with a look of long-suffering impatience.
This was good, Elizabeth was sure of it; she continued to observe the objects of her schemes, for in truth she had no idea what to do now that her father was actually in Highbury.
After the meal, the ladies withdrew and Miss Bingley instantly took a place beside Elizabeth, preventing Charlotte from doing so. “Well, Eliza, I am astonished to discover that you have family in this part of Surrey!”
“I am sure it must be a tremendous surprise to you, that we have anything in common beyond a deep and abiding affection for Mr. Bennet,” Elizabeth said smoothly.
Miss Bingley gave her a vicious smirk. “It is astonishing to me that I know so little of your connections, Eliza. You are certainly fortunate in your guardian and his generosity, but what of your actual family?”
“I know that my father is the son of a gentleman, who served in the militia, and my mother is the daughter of a vicar; perfectly respectable people.” Elizabeth bit back the impulse to make the same query about Miss Bingley’s family, but she knew that lady had far greater weaknesses to needle than her low origins.
Elizabeth gazed down at her hands folded in her lap, a picture of innocence as she struck her first blow. “I know that my guardian was very close with Captain Fairfax, and I have sometimes supposed that he may have harbored a deep attachment to my mother.”
She looked up, her expression gentle, and she leaned in as if sharing a secret between friends.
“Once, when I was a girl, I pilfered a watercolor painting of my mother, which he kept in the drawer of his desk. He was greatly distressed to find it had gone missing. She is very beautiful, and when I do not darken my hair, I bear a very strong resemblance to her.”
Miss Bingley betrayed a moment of discomposure before smiling viciously at Elizabeth. “I suppose there must have been some great impediment, then, to his marrying her. I understand he did his duty once before in marrying a fashionable woman of fortune, and he shall do the same again.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I understand he wed the first time under considerable duress. It is interesting that you have not yet set a date for your nuptials.”
“Of course I wish to consult my brother”, Miss Bingley said.
“He is marrying a young lady of fortune and good family; it may lend my own union some distinction if we marry together, and after the banns are called on Sunday we may set a date within a few weeks. When I return to Netherfield, it shall be as mistress of the house; I daresay you will be tempted to remain here, as you have relations in the area.”