Chapter 10 A Fragile Peace #2
Jane coloured and turned back to Mr Bingley.
She had been laughing at some trifle he conveyed, yet when the door opened and she saw Elizabeth enter with Mr Darcy, a flicker of unease passed over her face before she could check it.
Elizabeth’s softened opinion of the gentleman at Netherfield had not escaped her notice—Elizabeth had even spoken to her about it—but the quiet contentment in her sister’s countenance now gave her pause.
Surely there could be nothing more between them?
Still, as their father remained in his study, and no announcement had been made, she determined that nothing of consequence had been discussed.
If Mrs Bennet thought it peculiar that her second daughter and the taciturn gentleman from Derbyshire had been absent so long, she chose not to comment. A few others in the room, however, took notice immediately.
Mary had glanced up at the arrival of the couple, ignoring Mr Collins who was trying to garner her attention towards him.
The expressions on both Elizabeth’s and Mr Darcy’s faces suggested that Mr Bennet had relented and granted his permission and blessing upon their courtship.
A quiet, cautious pleasure stirred within her, even as her thoughts drifted back to their earlier conversation about the militia officer.
Leaning closer as Elizabeth passed, she whispered, “Has Papa spoken to you about what to do with regard to Lydia and Kitty? He ought to do so.”
Elizabeth pressed her hand and gave a slight shake of her head, not wishing to address this matter at present. She whispered that they would speak later.
Watching this, Jane frowned slightly, but she quickly turned back towards Mr Bingley with her usual gentleness. She forced a smile as he spoke, yet the sight of her sister and Mr Darcy lingered in her thoughts, leaving her uncertain.
She struggled to name the emotion that unsettled her, for while Mr Bingley’s attentions had been steady since his arrival in the county, he had never spoken plainly of his intentions.
It was a small thing, easily dismissed, yet it pricked at her nonetheless.
Could it be that Elizabeth had already secured Mr Darcy’s admiration—prompting him to act in a decisive manner—while her own would-be suitor still hesitated?
Was she foolish to think of him as a suitor or was Caroline Bingley right that he was merely amusing himself with her while in the country?
Their guests did not remain much longer. Though Mrs Bennet eagerly pressed them to stay for tea, both gentlemen politely declined. Mr Collins puffed out his chest as though he had already inherited and attempted to extend an invitation of his own, but to no avail.
“We intended only a brief call to enquire after Miss Bennet’s health,” Bingley explained good-naturedly. He glanced at her, his smile deepening when Jane’s cheeks warmed slightly. “She appears to be in excellent spirits, and I am delighted to know she has recovered.”
Darcy inclined his head in agreement. “We have business at Netherfield that cannot be delayed for much longer. I have several letters to write and other matters that must be arranged.” His gaze lingered on Elizabeth, warm with a silent assurance.
Despite their earlier talk at Netherfield, he did not intend to allow much time to pass before he offered for her and preparations were already forming in his mind.
After today, he was almost certain that Elizabeth would accept him if he were to ask; he had not expected to win her affection so quickly.
Still, he would not press her. If Elizabeth desired more time to be certain of him, he would grant it without protest. Yet he longed to take her to London, to place her before his relations and let them see what he already knew—that she was the best of women.
Whether they would support him, however, he could not be sure.
Perhaps it would be wiser to present the matter as a fait accompli, forcing their acceptance through inevitability.
But even that course carried risk, and Darcy could not yet determine which path would serve them best.
With the gentlemen’s departure, the sisters resumed their usual occupations.
Lydia, with Kitty close at her side, eagerly entertained their mother with every detail of their afternoon in Meryton—dwelling at length upon their conversations with the officers.
Mr Collins made a dutiful attempt to remark upon the impropriety of such discourse, but when he was once again ignored, he soon withdrew from the room.
To Elizabeth’s relief, Mr Wickham’s name was scarcely mentioned. Her sisters did remark upon the oddity of his sudden departure earlier that day, yet, happily, they appeared to have taken no notice of the brief tension that had passed between him and Mr Darcy.
Still, Elizabeth seized the moment. “I must caution you, particularly regarding Mr Wickham,” she said firmly, her eyes resting on Lydia. “You may think him charming, but he is not to be trusted.”
Lydia tossed her head. “Nonsense, Lizzy. Mr Wickham is so very handsome, and while I cannot account for his rushing off this morning, he has every appearance of goodness.”
Elizabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“I have heard enough to say that Mr Wickham is not the man he pretends to be. You would all do well to keep your distance from him—for I have heard it said he is a rake. He has nothing to support a wife, and unless you wish to spend your days cooking and cleaning for the both of you, you had best steer clear.”
Mary looked up and nodded gravely. “It is always better to be cautious, especially where a lady’s reputation is concerned. We know little of any of these men beyond what they say of themselves, and they may not be as trustworthy as they would have us believe.”
At this, Mrs Bennet gave an exasperated wave of her hand. “La! You worry too much, Lizzy, Mary. Let your sisters enjoy themselves. There is no need to cloud their fun with all this talk of mistrust.”
Kitty hesitated, glancing between her sisters, but Lydia only laughed and pressed on with her animated account of the day’s amusements.
Elizabeth, however, remained uneasy and dissatisfied.
Her father must do as he had promised—speak to her sisters more firmly, perhaps even forbid the officers from visiting Longbourn.
Jane listened to this conversation without adding anything to it, but she too, agreed with her mother.
She was certain that Elizabeth’s information must have come from Mr Darcy, and an uneasy suspicion stole over her that he was not, perhaps, a gentleman to be trusted.
Elizabeth was always so confident—so assured in her opinions—but perhaps, in this instance, she was mistaken.
Her view of Mr Darcy had once been firmly against him, and yet it had altered with surprising ease.
There was more besides. Elizabeth had been convinced that Mr Bingley was falling in love with Jane, and that, too, had proven questionable.
Mr Bingley was everything amiable and gentlemanly, yet he had expressed no clear intention.
His sisters—well, chiefly the younger—had hinted that he meant nothing by his attentions, that he merely amused himself with her company and would soon lose interest.
Later that evening, when Jane retired to her room, she considered the matter again. A quiet determination formed within her—a desire, for once, to prove to herself and to her family that Elizabeth was not the only clever sister.