Chapter Two
F or three people at least, the forced stay of the eldest Miss Bennets had been almost disastrous. Mr. Bingley, it was quite evident, needed very little encouragement from one of his guests to fall headlong into love with her. It seemed that each gesture, each display of sweet-tempered goodness, was all the evidence he needed that here in Hertfordshire was a veritable angel. He was sure that there had never been a young lady he had met whose face so closely matched her character. There could be no doubt that her kindness was unparalleled, and so with each conversation, with every successive encounter, Charles Bingley's affections became more firmly engaged. Contrary to what his sisters thought, he was not a fool. He knew that his family, particularly his Scarborough aunt, hoped he would wed an heiress, ideally one with prestigious ancestry. He persuaded himself that there was nothing to scoff at in Miss Bennet's lineage, and really — if love was to be had in a happy marriage, what need had he for a well-dowered wife? He lived a comfortable enough life as it was and he could not see that increased funds would materially improve his contentment .
It would be necessary to demonstrate that he was not a rash man, he realised, and not only as proof to his sisters that he had considered how serious a step he was taking. Miss Bennet deserved a proper courtship and if she wished him to leave her be, a few weeks in his company would give her ample time to discover within him any faults that she could not tolerate. Yes indeed, he would give himself three weeks to woo his lady and then ask her if she might ever manage to love him as desperately as he did her. He would take her hand and gently press it, then tell her that he had loved her from the very first. Charles Bingley liked to think about that. What a relief it would be finally to enumerate to his angel all the ways in which she had captivated him. Perhaps Darcy might advise him what to do after that. His oldest friend might not be married but he always seemed to know what measures were appropriate in any situation. It had been so with Papa's funeral. Darcy had ridden to Scarborough from Pemberley as soon as he had received the scrawled note. What a help Darcy had been to him. No uncle or brother could have guided him so patiently in taking up his place as the head of the family. Bingley considered this. It was likely that Darcy knew it all so well because the late Mr. Darcy's death had left him in similar circumstances. Who had guided Darcy? He never spoke of it, so Charles did not know .
Bingley was correct in one thing at least — his sisters surely did think him a simpleton. Miss Bingley, who possessed a little more intelligence than her elder sister, had grasped from that very first dance that Miss Jane Bennet could very quickly become a Problem. Caroline had nothing against her — Miss Bennet was indeed blessed with a good deal of beauty. Caroline was not even envious in that regard, for she was well enough looking herself, and rather better connected after all. Miss Bennet, it must even be admitted, was everything proper. The young lady seemed to grasp instinctively what the Bingley sisters had been taught at length in their select finishing school. Young ladies must be amenable, graceful, and self-assured, without ever straying into unbecoming confidence. Furthermore, and here Jane Bennet excelled, they must be self-possessed in all situations .
Louisa naturally agreed, her brows arched high on her forehead as the pair of them spoke of Charles's undue enthusiasm for a pretty country miss. He could do rather better than a penniless squire's daughter, not even to speak of the dreadful mother. To this, as the weeks went on, Caroline began to add various sisters as further proof of the impossibility of any permanent match. Miss Elizabeth, pert, smiling, and altogether too appealing to one Fitzwilliam Darcy, was the clincher in the argument .
“She is intolerable, Louisa! One may not even have a simple conversation with the girl without feeling she mocks us in her head. I daresay, if her parents had been able to afford it, she would have benefited enormously from a good school. Mrs. Godwin would have removed some of her…well, I do not quite know what it is, but she ought to be a little humbler than she is.”
Mrs. Hurst selected a nut from the little tray beside her comfortable chair, “Miss Elizabeth does not precisely seem arrogant , Caroline, but…”
“She has no right to arrogance, Louisa!”
“No indeed, my dear, but what I mean to say is,” and here she paused to sample her choice, “there is something in her that makes one convinced she believes herself to be our equal. It is most objectionable.”
“Hmm,” agreed Miss Bingley, then, “It is beyond me why Mr. Darcy's attention should be so fixed upon her.”
“Mr. Darcy! You jest — he hardly spoke to her while they were here, and when he did she argued with him. No, Caroline, you are quite safe there. Did he not compliment you on your ability to manage your servants yesterday? I am sure he sees how suitable a wife you would make. Miss Eliza is not to be thought of!”
Mr. Darcy, had he been privileged to hear this tete-a-tete, might have agreed with both ladies in equal measure. It was incomprehensible to him why his mind and his eyes should so often stray to the second Bennet sister. He had not even thought her handsome when he had first seen her. If it had been Miss Bennet that so held his attention, he might have better understood, and so dismissed his fixation .
Fitzwilliam Darcy was not yet eight and twenty years old, and was rather used to having command over his own impulses. Why should he seek her out and strain to overhear her teasing conversations with others? Worse than his growing obsession was the fact that she had evidently observed his behaviour and did not even feign blushing confusion at his attention. No, she dared to tease him for it. It seemed she teased everybody. Had she expressed herself well when convincing Colonel Forster to give a ball? How was a man to answer that? At least she had sung after that, for he found staring at her during a performance to be utterly excusable, even to himself. It might have been remarked upon if he had looked away as she sat at the instrument.
Miss Elizabeth had not sung, nor had she even played, at Netherfield. Mr. Darcy found this fact irksome and admirable at the same time. When pressed to play of an evening, she had shaken her head firmly, certainly not in the usual way young ladies tried to encourage flattering compliments and persuasion .
“No, I do not play at present — I wish to keep my eye on Jane. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst's abilities will be far more pleasurable for the company to hear, I am sure of it.”
She ought to have been correct in that. Certainly, Miss Bingley displayed to advantage on the pianoforte. His hostess might not play so well as his sister, but in terms of accomplishment in voice and ability, she should have been far more compelling than the dark-headed, dancing-eyed, impertinent Miss Elizabeth Bennet .
Unconsciously, Mr. Darcy agreed with Louisa Hurst — Miss Eliza was not to be thought of. He had been relieved when she and Miss Bennet had left; to be in her company felt as though he courted danger, and it was not a pleasant contemplation for a man such as he. Far better to let her be, to be coldly civil whenever he happened to see her again .
He went with Bingley, naturally, when his friend rode out to Longbourn to call on Miss Bennet and ask after her health. Both gentlemen were aware that failing to call would be ill-mannered. If Bingley wished to remain in the neighbourhood and make a good impression, he must not neglect these calls. When they encountered their quarries in Meryton, half-hidden amongst a mass of younger sisters, a parson, and a military man, Darcy's eyes had sought out Miss Elizabeth's. He found himself quashing his dismay that his heart had lurched in his chest when her face turned up towards him .
Wickham's presence had spoiled that moment, of course, as it inevitably must. It was not until later that Darcy found himself relieved by the chilly anger enveloping him. The presence of that man had saved him from making a fool of himself over an utterly unsuitable woman. He did not care — he would not care — that she was likely thrown into Wickham's presence often. Her mother was hardly the sort of careful matron to keep scoundrels from the house, and even Mr. Bennet could scarcely be termed cautious. Darcy, having witnessed the unladylike conduct of the youngest Bennets, had sufficient evidence that they were not closely guarded. What had it to do with him, however? If Mr. and Mrs. Bennet chose to allow an alarming amount of licence to their daughters, it was only further proof that he was better off miles from them, and preferably in a different county altogether .
Bingley would not hear of his friend going so soon .
“You must stay at least until the ball, Darcy. Caroline has outdone herself, you know, and she will like you to see the results of her efforts. She wrote to London for a troupe of musicians that Lady Briarcliffe had at her rout party, and I am sure everything will be first rate. I must have you here, Darcy, I insist upon it. This ball…well, it matters not why, but I do wish you will stay, at least until then.”
Something in Bingley's tone gave his oldest friend pause. It sounded as though Bingley was on the cusp of doing something incredibly foolish, as he had occasionally done in the past .
“When you attempt to be mysterious, Bingley, I am put very much in mind of my sense of foreboding before that incident in Cambridge wherein you smuggled a flock of goats into the dining hall.”
Bingley laughed and held up his hands in innocence. “I swear to you Darcy, I have no dealings with goats this time. Caroline would be irate with me, I assure you.”
A rare smile graced Mr. Darcy's face. “I imagine she might feel rather more strongly than that, Charles. Very well, I will remain until the end of November, and then I believe I should head to London — there are matters requiring my attention. You might come with me, if you wish. My house in town is at your service — Mrs. Kemp would likely forget my very existence in order to feed you your favourite sweetmeats.”
“Oh, I…perhaps I will not. I may stay, but…I will likely need to come to town soon anyway. If I…well, no matter. I am glad you will stay, Darcy. I am glad you will stay.”
He regretted remaining as soon as he laid eyes on Elizabeth entering the ballroom, her hand resting on her father's arm. Her delight as she looked about the room arrested him and he wondered how he had ever thought her less than beautiful. She was disastrously lovely. The musicians struck up for the first dance and the parson led her to the set. He found a sort of savage satisfaction in her rosy cheeks in the face of her partner's lack of grace. She, of course, was elegantly light on her feet. It seemed to Darcy that Miss Elizabeth steeled herself to endure the set with politeness but took no pleasure in it until she bent her head in a final curtsey.
His feet carried him on a circuitous path around the room until he stood before her .
He would have one set with this young lady and then forget the whole. Perchance he was only piqued that she had denied him twice before. A dance would cure him of the unfamiliarity of refusal and that would be it. He could ride to London on the morrow without a single thought of her disturbing him .
By the time he took her hand to lead her to the set he found himself rapidly revising his foolish confidence. He was in far more danger of becoming attached to this unsuitable girl than he had ever been with anyone before. With every teasing and sweetly barbed word she uttered, he found himself more entranced. Had it not been for Sir William's interruption and the alarming revelation that Bingley had raised serious expectations of an alliance with Miss Bennet in the minds of the neighbours, he might have done the unthinkable and requested a second set from her .
His own puzzling feelings could be temporarily ignored. His friend Bingley could not be permitted to ruin the course of his whole life. Miss Bennet was not a fit bride for his open and engaging friend. She was too closed, too inscrutable. It was impossible that she was not concealing something with her expressionless eyes. Darcy determined that he would observe Jane Bennet for the remainder of the ball, hoping that Bingley would not commit himself before then, and once all the guests had departed, he would set to work to persuade his friend that it was not yet too late to extricate himself .
As he bowed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet at the end of their dance, his gaze fixed on the dark curls atop her head, Darcy wondered also if it would be as easy as all that to set himself free .