12. Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth and Jane, seated comfortably on a small couch in the family parlor, spoke quietly while sewing baby clothes for one of their tenants. Inevitably, their conversation turned to their aunt’s gathering the night prior.
“Did you notice Miss Bingley touching her left ear with her fan?” Elizabeth asked as she systematically pushed and pulled her needle through the material.
“I must admit I did not. I was distracted by Mr. Bingley apologizing for their late arrival. Apparently, his youngest sister changed her gown several times and when she finally made a grand entrance, she was upset the viscount and Mr. Darcy had already departed in their carriage.” Jane tied off her thread and placed the finished garment on the pile of other items that would be added to the gift basket. “Are you certain she meant to signal that she wished to be rid of you?”
“Most assuredly. Mrs. Hurst gasped when her sister used the language of the fan to send the message.” Elizabeth turned over her tiny gown and inspected the threads. “I suppose I should be grateful she did not draw her fan through her hand.”
“I do not believe Miss Bingley hates you.”
“She does not like me.”
“True, and it is her loss for not seeking your friendship.”
Elizabeth laughed at a stray thought which passed through her mind.
“What?” Jane asked. “What made you laugh just now?”
“I was thinking of the fat lies she spouted last night.”
“The one where our brother is enamored with her?”
“She is such a widgeon; I almost feel sorry for her.” Elizabeth then recalled some information she’d forgotten to share with her sister. “Did I tell you Mr. Hurst knows our family connections?”
Jane’s eyebrow rose slightly and she answered in the negative.
“It was the day following Mary’s episode at Netherfield when I went down for breakfast and found only Mr. Hurst in attendance.” Elizabeth grinned at Jane’s look of astonishment. “Yes, yes, I know. He has a reputation of not rolling out of his room until the afternoon, but on this day, he was seated at the table completely sober, hoping I would arrive before everyone else.”
“I am all ears, dear sister. Why was he so eager for your company?”
“Cast your mind back to Trenton’s letters where he often writes of his good friend, Bertie. The one he visits in Dorset on school breaks when he cannot come home.”
“What has this to do with Mr. Hurst?”
“Bertie is Gilbert Hurst, brother to Mr. Hurst who currently resides at Netherfield Park.”
“What a tangled web we weave,” Jane said with a chuckle. “Perchance, do you think Sir Walter Scott met Miss Bingley in an earlier form and based these words on her?”
“I think not, but the imagery is precise. Before everyone else joined Mr. Hurst and me in the breakfast room, he revealed he knew who we were and he had no intention of giving away our secret. Since that conversation, I am certain you have noticed he is sober and alert. He is having a grand time watching his wife and sister by marriage make fools of themselves.”
Jane’s smiling face turned to a frown.
“While I appreciate Mr. Hurst wishing to help maintain our privacy, I am alarmed he has no consideration of how his wife will be perceived when everything comes to light. It shows a callous disregard for her feelings.”
“Your tender heart is always on guard for others and I understand your valid concern. However, we cannot mediate their marriage or their behavior. Once we move to Twelve Oaks, I doubt we will see them but occasionally. They simply do not move in our social circles.”
“It not right to keep these facts from the Bingleys, only for the satisfaction of Mr. Hurst having a good laugh over his wife’s ignorance.”
“If we reveal all, are you ready for this to become general knowledge around Meryton?”
“Those that are closest to us already know, and I imagine the rest have suspected for a very long time. Our uncle’s distinctive carriage has traversed the main street of Meryton too many times for our friends and neighbors not to have some inkling of our connections. Cynthia Goulding, herself, hinted at the elaborate parties she expects us to attend once Trenton reaches his majority. I think our rank is the worst kept secret in all of Hertfordshire.”
“The exception being the Bingley siblings.”
“The exception being Mr. Bingley and his sisters, yes.” Jane agreed, then sighed deeply. “Viscount Ashton proposed.”
“You thought to tell me this now?” Elizabeth dropped the baby gown onto her lap and gaped at her sister. “When?”
“While we were walking to the hermitage.”
“And…?”
“I said I would give him my answer at the ball.”
“Did you delay your response because your affection leans toward Mr. Bingley?”
“Although Mr. Bingley seems to admire me, our conversations lack any depth or substance. He does not inquire about my interests and he has never once asked about our brother. Is that not odd? I often think he only sees me as a pretty accessory by his side, not someone he would engage in meaningful discussion.”
“We both know he is everything a young man ought to be. Sensible and good-humored with such happy manners, however...” Jane tilted her head and waited for Elizabeth to put into words something they both inherently knew. “Sharing our information with Mr. Bingley will not make a difference, as I believe you have already made up your mind to accept Ashton’s proposal.”
“That is not entirely true. I know the viscount has an intense competitive streak and takes great pleasure in outdoing Mr. Bingley and I will not allow myself to be objectified as some trophy to be won. If he loves me, it will be for who I am, not for the satisfaction of boasting about winning my hand.”
Filled with compassion for her beloved sister, Elizabeth gave her hand a light squeeze.
“Then, sister, in my prayers tonight, I will petition for a clear resolution to your dilemma.”
It was at this time their mother entered the room, her face flushed and her movements hurried.
“Why are you not getting ready for the Harrington’s dinner party?” she cried out upon seeing them busy with sewing.
“Mamma, ‘tis only one o’clock in the afternoon. We have plenty of time to dress and prepare.”
Their mother’s face took on a look of confusion and she brought trembling fingers to the side of her forehead, then twisted to look back through the door toward the main staircase.
“Do you think I should tell Hester to hurry? She takes an inordinate amount of time to prepare for anything.”
Elizabeth shot Jane a concerned look. It had been many years since their mother had lapsed into such a state, where she referenced living with her sister in their childhood home.
“Aunt Philips is not coming by today, Mamma. We shall see her at the Harringtons.”
“Not coming by? Hester promised to braid my hair. I wish to look my best for Mr. Hamilton.”
Jane rose gracefully to her feet and moved toward Mamma, taking her by the arm.
“I shall assist you in braiding your hair. Come, let us retire to your chambers and see what we can find for you to wear.”
Elizabeth waited until they had departed the room before ringing for Hill. When she appeared in the doorway, a quick explanation was all that was required for the faithful housekeeper to hurry back to the kitchen, whereupon she asked Mrs. Pruitt to prepare a soothing draught. While Mrs. Hill took care of her end of this sad business, Elizabeth made her way to Papa’s study. At her light knock, he bade her to enter.
“What is it, Lizzy? You seem upset.”
“Mamma had another of her episodes. She asked where Aunt Phillips was and spoke of her hopes of seeing Mr. Hamilton this evening.”
“You have notified Mrs. Hill?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Jane took Mamma upstairs. By now they will have provided her with one of Mrs. Hill’s curative draughts.”
Papa removed his spectacles and placed them carefully on his desk.
“We all know your mother reacted to the physical similarities of Mr. Darcy and the effects of that encounter still linger. Fortunately, these episodes are fleeting.”
“Should we send our regrets to the Harringtons?”
“Let us see if your mother settles. Otherwise, I shall escort you, Jane, and Mary, explaining your mother’s absence as having a severe megrim. No one will think anything of it, as all our friends are aware she has suffered them almost all her life.”
“Papa…” Elizabeth’s heart clenched and she struggled to keep her eyes from welling up with tears. “Should I have refused Mr. Darcy’s courtship?”
“No!”
She was startled by the ferocity of his singular answer. Her stepfather pinched the bridge of his nose, then dropped his hand onto the desk, his expression one of fatherly concern and love.
“No,” he continued more gently. “You shall not put your life on hold for this. If your courtship leads to marriage, which I believe it will, most of your adult life will be spent either in Town or in Derbyshire. Do not forsake your happiness for something you cannot change.”
“How uncommonly fast you write, Mr. Darcy.”
Had this conversation not taken place without the distracting presence of Lady Elizabeth Hamilton Bennet, Darcy would have thought he was re-living an evening ten days prior. However, there was only the Netherfield party in the drawing room and no lovely Elizabeth in sight. It seemed Miss Bingley had finally run out of new compliments.
To humor himself and no other person, he replied exactly as he had before.
“You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.”
He waited for her to expound on the number of letters he had to write over the course of the year or beg him to send unwelcome greetings to his sister – yet again. To his surprise and dismay, she launched into her second favorite thing to do, which was to malign Meryton and its residents.
“I am exceedingly glad Charles did not accept the dinner invitation to the Harringtons.”
Charles glanced up from the paper he was reading.
“We did not receive one, Caroline. I cannot turn down that which I did not receive.”
This was the first Darcy knew of a dinner party. He glanced toward Ashton, who simply lifted his eyebrow and slightly shrugged his shoulders. Could it be that small flotsam of gossip from Netherfield was beginning to trickle its way into Meryton concerning what Miss Bingley thought of the Bennet family, and the citizens of Meryton were closing rank to protect one of their own? He dearly hoped that were true.
He knew Elizabeth and her sister believed only a few trusted souls knew their true rank and disposition, but he had observed the deep respect their friends and neighbors showed in their presence and it would not surprise him one little bit if their ‘secret’ was the worst one held in the history of England.
Miss Bingley, making no headway in her attempt to capture Darcy’s attention, strolled about the room casting heavy sighs and long looks in his direction. For the most part, he ignored her and continued writing to Georgiana. Finally, Bingley’s sister took the seat across from her brother and began peppering him with questions about the ball he had asked her to host on the twenty-sixth of November.
“Why are you asking me all these questions?” Bingley cried out and practically threw his paper onto the sofa in frustration. “You have had ample time to order everything you require. I told you of this before Michaelmas when I took possession of Netherfield. Other than complaining about the Bennets and Meryton, what else have you done with your time?”
“You have no idea what is needed for an event of this magnitude!” Miss Bingley hissed back at him. “All you have to do is go out and shoot some birds, or ride your horse around the estate. Meanwhile, I have been managing the staff and household, I have had to hire musicians, extra staff, and cooks for one night’s activities. I have had to order decorations, extra glassware, and everything else that goes with ensuring our guest’s comfort for the night. I also have to oversee the preparation of the ballroom from the chandeliers to the chalk work on the floor. And, add to all that, I have had to entertain your rude lady love and her hideous sisters.”
“Miss Hamilton is not rude.”
“That is all you heard? Miss Hamilton is rude?”
“Truly, it is the only thing that mattered to me,” Bingley said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Miss Hamilton is an angel.”
Miss Bingley outright snorted. Not a delicate sniff most ladies affect to show disdain, but an outright snort.
“Your Miss Hamilton is no angel. Did I not tell you how rude she was when her sister took ill? She overstepped her authority and began ordering my servants about, then dared to say she did not have time to put up with my outrage.” Miss Bingley stood and clenched her fists. “I can no longer remain here in Hertfordshire. Once this ball is over, I demand you take me back to Town.”
“I am not ready to leave at this time. I had plans to remain at Netherfield until Twelfth Night.”
By this time, Bingley had also taken to sulking on the sofa.
“Charles, surely you must realize none of us wish to remain here. All Louisa and I have seen is a collection of people in whom there is little beauty and no fashion, none of which we have even a scintilla of common interest. We receive neither attention nor pleasure from their insipid company. Even Mr. Darcy longs to reunite with his sister, and the viscount’s family will gather together for Christmas.”
“I have no plans to leave until the week before Christmas.” Darcy carefully sanded his finished letter before setting it to one side. He did not like Miss Bingley speaking on his behalf in any manner. “Ashton has business in Town following the ball, but I believe he plans on returning. Did you not say as much the other night, cousin?”
“I did. My plans are not fully formed, as of yet. I will know more the night of the ball.”
Darcy lifted a brow at his cousin, silently questioning if his plans included Jane Hamilton. At Ashton’s slight nod, Darcy turned his face to hide a grin. It seemed both Bingley siblings were about to be thwarted in their plans. Miss Bingley would not become mistress of Pemberley and Bingley would not gain the hand of Lady Jane.
Darcy paused in thought. Although he had partially secured Elizabeth’s hand with a courtship, he realized he should not be too cocky when it came to the affections of his future sister. Jane Hamilton remained very cautious in her dealings with Ashton and Bingley. Darcy was quietly confident she favored his cousin, but Bingley was amiable and when he put his mind to it, he could charm the birds out of trees.
Seemingly fed up with his sister haranguing him about where she placed her head at night, Bingley shot to his feet.
“I say, Darcy. Would you care to wager on a game of billiards?”
Darcy folded and sealed his letter, then stood.
“As long as you do not wager above a guinea, I shall play.” He turned to his cousin. “Ashton, care to join us?”
“I will.”
Hurst roused himself from where he had been pretending to sleep.
“Hey, what? Billiards?” He sat upright. “I shall play the winner.”
Much to the chagrin of the ladies, the gentlemen made themselves scarce and soon had a round-robin set up. The winner between Darcy and Bingley would play the winner between Hurst and Ashton. Darcy took the first match and while Ashton and Hurst prowled around the table, assessing their shots, he and his friend enjoyed a smooth port brandy.
“I plan to ask Miss Hamilton to marry me at the ball.”
Darcy nearly choked on his drink at Bingley’s unexpected segue in the conversation.
“Does she return your affection? I have not seen any evidence for or against.”
“Of course, she has affection for me. I made sure to compliment her appearance every time I saw her.”
“She is more than a pretty face, Bingley. Do you care for her as a person? Do you know everything about her family?”
“I know Caroline derides her low origins, but it matters not that Miss Hamilton has no dowry or poor connections because I am very wealthy and can afford to buy a pretty wife. One who will be so grateful she would do anything for me.”
“You plan on buying her affection?”
“You cannot buy what you already possess,” Bingley scoffed. “Even if she does not fully love me, she would be a fool to turn down my offer. Men with wealth such as mine are not thick on the ground in Hertfordshire and I believe she will say yes before I finish asking the question. I was surprised you did not pursue her. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever beheld.”
“There is something you should know, Bingley. Miss Hamilton is a distant cousin of mine, and I am very concerned – no, disgusted about the way you view her.”
“Sorry, old man. I did not know you were related.” Bingley shifted in his chair. “Are you not pleased with her prospects? I know she will have some adjustments to make and Caroline is more than qualified to instruct her in the intimate nuances of the ton.”
“You believe Jane Hamilton needs instruction on how to navigate society?”
“She must! You said yourself that her step-father eschewed taking her into town and that the majority of her life has been spent in Hertfordshire. It is too bad she has not been presented, as there is no guarantee Her Majesty will hold court this year.”
“She and her sister have been presented at court.”
“They have? Who sponsored them?”
“Their aunt.”
“The one from Cheapside? That is impossible.”
“The Hamilton sisters have more than one branch on their family tree. How do you think they are related to me?”
Bingley’s brow furrowed with confusion, clearly not linking the dots placed on the imaginary page before him.
“Their father’s father was married to my great aunt Lady Minerva Fitzwilliam. Their father’s sister is married to the Marquis of Courtland.”
Bingley’s mouth formed into a small ‘o’ as understanding began to dawn.
“She is not only beautiful, but her connections will help Caroline find a suitable husband. Maybe even a peer.”
Darcy metaphorically banged his head on the floor, the wall, and the arm of the chair. How had he never seen the avarice in Bingley? Had he always been so mercenary, so self-absorbed? The resemblance to his sister was unsettling. Although angry with the younger man, Darcy did not think a full confrontation was the correct approach. He determined to tackle the issue with more subtlety.
“What does your sister think of this plan?”
“I have no intentions of telling her until after the fact. Even so, she is dependent on my good humor and will not cause too much fuss.”
“Bingley, I must caution you—”
“Stop mollycoddling me. I know what I am about,” Bingley said. “I could have any woman I want, and Miss Hamilton is the one I chose. There is nothing more to be said on the subject. I care not that, like Caroline, you do not like the Bennets.”
“Come, Darcy,” Hurst called out, interrupting Darcy’s attempt to caution his friend to rein in his arrogant confidence. “I have bested your cousin and now I shall show you how to play proper billiards.”
“I have never once said I do not like the Bennets.” Darcy stood to accept the cue from Ashton while Hurst racked the balls. “That is your sister attempting to put words into my mouth.”
“What is this about?” Ashton queried, looking from one man to the other.
“Ask Bingley,” was all Darcy said and indicated Hurst could take the first shot.
He was extremely disgusted by Bingley’s attitude and knew Ashton would be furious. Tonight, when the rest of the house settled, the cousins would confer in his bedchamber and make plans to protect their loved ones. Unless… Darcy swallowed hard. Unless Jane Hamilton loved Bingley and not his cousin, then there was nothing they could do, except take her aside and gently tell her what Bingley said when in the company of men.
He dreaded the thought of breaking her heart, but much like the discussion had with Georgiana after the Wickham debacle, it had to be done. If Jane Hamilton still chose Bingley over Ashton, she should do so with all pertinent facts at her fingertips. It was the very least he could do for his future sister.