The Perfect Suit
Chapter One
“On entering the drawing-room, she found the whole party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting them to be playing high, she declined it…”
I t was a great relief to her sister when Miss Bennet firmly declared that she felt well enough to sit downstairs for an hour that evening. In the first place, Elizabeth had not been joyfully anticipating the prospect of facing an evening with her hosts by herself, and in the second place, Jane's improved well-being must always give her contentment .
It was not that Lizzy found Netherfield to be uncomfortable. The room she had been given directly next to Jane's was well appointed, for all Miss Bingley's insincere apologies for it being so shabby. For Elizabeth's part, although she saw that it was not decorated in the latest fashion (little doubt Miss Bingley regretted the lack of cherubs), there was comfort enough to suffice. Her room at Longbourn gave her greater ease, certainly, with its delightful familiarity but, she supposed, grand houses could hardly be expected to compare well to one's own home. At any rate, her temporary bed was soft enough and the fire lit by the maid in the morning was certainly a welcome luxury. The difficulty with large houses, Lizzy thought, was that any warmth seemed to vanish rapidly. Longbourn might be smaller, but it was preferable in these October days that seemed to bite with chill once the sun disappeared. She smiled to herself. What would these fine London people about her think if they knew that come January, she might almost prefer a cottage to their lofty-ceilinged habitations? Mr. Darcy would despise her utterly. His natural habitat would almost certainly be a stately mansion, designed for opulence and gaudy show rather than for any comfort. One might almost pity him, poor miserable man, so willing to suffer the discomfort of the cold for the sake of looking excessively wealthy. At least she could acquit him of such vanity in his dress, Lizzy reluctantly concluded; his valet evidently had more taste than that. Perhaps Mr. Darcy did as a late king of England once did and donned two shirts instead of one .
She kept a close eye on Jane's fatigue as they made their way slowly down the main staircase. The eldest Miss Bennet, considerate as ever, attempted to lean more heavily on the polished stair rail than on her anxious sister, and eventually they entered the drawing room. The gentlemen rose to bow at their entrance, with Mr. Bingley seeming inclined to abandon his game altogether and sit beside the Miss Bennets. Mr. Hurst, who had been hoping his luck might change, protested. Miss Bingley, with an eye on Mr. Darcy's rigidly polite greeting to her unwanted guests, encouraged the game to continue .
This put her brother-in-law in extraordinary charity with both her and the world and, feeling jovial, Mr. Hurst went so far as to invite Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth to sit down with them for a hand .
“For,” said he, tugging at his cravat, “it is within the recommendations for an ideal number — five, six, or even seven players may sit down, you know. ”
Lizzy glanced at Jane's profile. It revealed nothing — her elder sister was occupied in smiling benignly at the seated company. Elizabeth slowly shook her head. “I beg you would hold me excused, Mr. Hurst. I have no talent for cards — it is Jane here who possesses the head for it, if indeed any of us Bennets do. I am sure I should be an odiously dull competitor for any of you.”
Miss Bennet was then duly pressed to play and gave her still-smiling consent. Mr. Bingley drew up a chair for her beside his, which did away with a little of her bashfulness, and Miss Elizabeth approached to observe .
To Jane Bennet's credit, her blush was only faint as he seated her. “Lizzy exaggerates. I do hope you will not find my addition to your game a hindrance to your enjoyment.” A quick look over the table was made as she carefully arranged the thick shawl about the elegant slope of her shoulders. “You are at loo? ”
A distinctly cheerful Mr. Hurst, sensing a young lamb brought forth to the slaughter, kindly explained the rudiments of the game to the beautiful lady beside his brother-in-law. Miss Bennet listened attentively and thanked him for the instruction with every appearance of sincerity. Mr. Darcy's attention was confined to Miss Elizabeth, and he noted that her bright eyes were fixed on her serene sister with a gleam of amusement in them — only occasionally did she look up at the other players. Their gazes met momentarily and he was caught for a moment, transfixed — it was remarkable, really, how expressive she was, a marked contrast to Miss Bennet who was almost emotionless most of the time. Privately he thought that there could not be much of heart nor feeling in the angelic-faced young lady that Bingley was so taken with, for all that Darcy acknowledged her to be quite the fairest diamond he had seen in quite some time.
It was Miss Elizabeth's demeanour, hinting at the expectation of enjoyment, that gave him pause. Why should she look so, as though she should shortly be greatly entertained at their expense? Hurst dealt the cards, oblivious, and Mr. Darcy glanced at his own hand. Instinct, which rarely led him astray, caused him to shake his head and throw in his cards, electing instead to observe .
Miss Bennet, with nary a flicker of expression on her face, proceeded to win three tricks in succession and took the entire pool. Hurst was eager to continue, exclaiming that Miss Bennet's beginner's luck could not hold up forever and they should soon all win their money back. Mr. Bingley looked admiringly on .
“I say, Miss Bennet, the way you neatly won these tricks makes me think that to continue would leave us all paupers.”
“I hope I should not be so degenerate, Mr. Bingley, as to leave anyone so significantly worse off — particularly after your kindness to me these past days. I confess I do not wish to overexert myself, however. Even now I see Lizzy waiting to cluck at me if I do not take sufficient care. May I sit by your fire now for half an hour before I return upstairs? I should like that. Thank you for the game; it was most enjoyable.” She was too kind a creature to thank Mr. Hurst pointedly for his instruction, as Elizabeth might have been tempted to. “I hope you will forgive me that I am not yet well enough to play longer. Lizzy, would you lend me your arm, dearest?”
This proved to be too much of a temptation for Mr. Bingley, who immediately disclaimed any desire to sit longer at the card table and would Miss Bennet take his arm as a feeble alternative?
Mr. Darcy glanced up once more and admired the dancing light that flickered in Miss Elizabeth's eyes. They were particularly fine eyes, framed so delicately with long lashes. He looked away again almost immediately, reluctant to be caught staring, and spoke, if for no reason other than to distract himself.
“I do not believe, Bingley, that Miss Elizabeth will care to claim that you are feebler than she.”
Miss Bingley, who was by no means slow-witted, laughed. “Charles! You must not insult Miss Eliza so — do you think that because she is a country girl she must necessarily have a stronger arm than a man? For shame. You must not mind him, Miss Eliza — he cannot have meant it as it sounded.”
Bingley disclaimed. “I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth — I do indeed. I did not mean to imply any manliness about you, you know; I merely thought my arm must be feebler by way of preferability to Miss Bennet. Shall you like to take my place at the table? You have been such a nurse to our poorly guest here that perhaps you should like this half an hour to please yourself. ”
He was pardoned immediately with a smile of great sweetness. “I thank Mr. Darcy for taking offence on my behalf, but I assure you, Mr. Bingley, that I was not in the least put out by your chivalry to my sister. If I might, I should like to take up a book in that comfortable-looking chair — Jane, you will not mind me abandoning you? I am sure you are going distracted from having me fluttering about you by now.”
“No, Lizzy! I am not, you know I am not — I only fear you have been worn out with worry for me. Sit down with a book, dearest, and see if Mr. Bingley has a volume to your tastes. ”
“But you must take your winnings, Miss Bennet!” said Miss Bingley, who saw, with a woman's eyes, that Mr. Darcy watched Miss Eliza carefully as she crossed to the table near a window to examine a few books that she herself had put there for Mr. Darcy's enjoyment .
“I should not like to take anything, Miss Bingley,” said Jane Bennet softly. “Do add it to the pool for your next game.”
Mr. Darcy's curiosity was still rapt in which tome Miss Eliza might land. As though, Miss Bingley inwardly sneered, the girl did not know precisely what she was doing when she laid an elegant hand on the spines and ran her fingers down them as she decided. The stirrings of jealousy prompted Miss Bingley to respond .
“But we have no need for your charity, Miss Bennet. You must take what you have fairly won — it is of no consequence to us, I assure you. There cannot be above twenty or thirty pounds here, after all.” There was a dismissive tone to Miss Bingley's casually spoken words. “Those in our circles will lose thrice that amount in a sitting with little thought. You put too much upon it, my dear friend.”
Mr. Darcy's eye turned upon his hostess with an expression of reproof. He said nothing, but raised his brows in the direction of Bingley and the young lady on his arm.
Lightly, Elizabeth intervened. “You are thinking you should not like to carry it upstairs, are you not, Jane? It would be difficult to hold on to the bannister and also the coins, would it not? I will take it up for you now — there, you sit by the fire. I shall be back swiftly.”
It was better, Darcy realised, that Elizabeth be given the opportunity to absent herself from the company for a few minutes. He had seen the spark of anger and the flush that had spread up her neck and she had looked magnificent. Miss Bennet remained on Bingley's arm and smiled her serene smile. There was not a flicker to suggest that she had been offended by Miss Bingley's words. An onlooker might even suppose that she had not understood the import of her hostess's words .
What a dull woman, thought Mr. Darcy, crossing to the table of books and carefully avoiding looking at the door through which her more interesting sister had exited .