Chapter 1.3
Elizabeth slowly exited the drawing-room, leaving her mother, sisters and their cousin Mr. Collins engaged in conversation.
It had been a week since she and Jane had returned home after the days spent at Netherfield during Jane’s illness but so many events had occurred since then, that it felt as long as a month.
Two appearances of great significance had affected Elizabeth, although in totally opposite ways.
The first was that of Mr. Collins — the man who was expected to inherit Longbourn one day and had arrived to re-establish the peace between their families.
His intention was to find a wife and his obvious preference for her was a constant source of distress for Elizabeth.
A militia regiment had also camped in Meryton and one of the most pleasant men of Elizabeth’s acquaintance had joined the corps: Mr. George Wickham.
That gentleman had brought not only a breath of fresh air to the village, but had also provided Elizabeth with information to enable her to complete her sketch of Mr. Darcy’s character.
And the drawing was not one worthy of admiration.
During her stay at Netherfield, she had had the opportunity to see different traits of his character.
He was haughty, aloof, proud and arrogant but also clever, well educated, an affectionate brother and a loyal friend.
And an excellent landlord — in Mr. Bingley’s estimation at least. In that, Elizabeth imagined he had not had much of a choice, since he had become the master of a very large estate and an impressive fortune at an early age.
He had needed to improve his skills and knowledge in order to follow in his father’s footsteps and he appeared to take his duties very seriously.
As she had become accustomed to his manners, Elizabeth’s grudge against him had slowly diminished, allowing her to see him in a new light — which was sadly quickly shadowed by new revelations.
One evening, when they had discussed accomplishments and faults of character, Mr. Darcy himself had admitted that he possessed a resentful temper. His statement was proven by Mr. Wickham’s sad story and the misfortunes that had almost ruined his life, all caused by Mr. Darcy’s relentlessness.
“I hope you have not come to fetch me, Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet addressed her when she entered the library.
“No, Papa. I have come to find a little bit of peace and quiet; Mr. Collins’ stories are rather tiresome.”
“I feel for you, child. Mr. Collins diverted me for a couple of days, but I cannot listen to any more of his praise for Lady Catherine, descriptions of fireplaces, or the number of windows at Rosings Park. And I notice that his interest lies particularly in you.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Papa, this is a serious matter. I hope I will discourage any such attempt, but if Mr. Collins should propose to me, I will refuse him in a heartbeat.”
“I expect no less from you, my Lizzy. But you must be prepared to face your mother’s anger! She has encouraged Mr. Collins’s interest in you just as much as I have discouraged it. Do you know what puzzles me the most?”
“What, Papa?”
“I might be wrong, but Mary seems to admire Mr. Collins. So I spoke to him about her — without any particular details, only praising Mary’s love of books and music and her endeavours to improve her education — and he replied that he had not really noticed her, as she does not sparkle enough to catch his attention.
Can you believe that? The man wants sparkle! What do you say about such impudence?”
“I say that I am glad, Papa! Mary might admire him now because she is very young and lacks experience and Mr. Collins is not without some merits in appearance and education. But if she marries him, in a few years she would come to despise him and she would be miserable.”
“Probably. You know Lizzy, until recently I feared that after my death Mr. Collins might throw you all out of the house. Now that I have met him, I am worried that he might allow you to live with him and bore you to death.”
“Papa, please do not jest about such a painful subject! I am not at all amused!”
“Neither am I, child. But what else can we do except make sport of our misfortunes? We now have a glimmer of hope that perhaps this Bingley fellow is so much in love with Jane that he will propose, despite her lack of dowry and connections. He seemed smitten enough when I last saw him.”
“Yes. If only his sisters would not discourage him. And I believe his friend Mr. Darcy does not approve of such a connection either.”
“Ah yes, Mr. Darcy. An interesting man, to be sure,” Mr. Bennet said.
“I wonder that he is friends with Bingley — two people could not be more different. But it is well known that opposite natures attract each other — both in friendship and in marriage. I can testify to that. For now, let us hope for the best, shall we?”
“I am not worried about the future in the slightest, Papa, since I trust you will live a long and healthy life,” Elizabeth declared, embracing him. He kissed her forehead.
“That is my plan too. Besides, if necessary you have Grove Cottage, you may all move there. Living in the wood, away from Meryton and the officers, might benefit your mother’s nerves and younger sisters’ manners.”
“Papa! You are absolutely incorrigible!” Elizabeth laughed.
“I admit I am. But there is also that five hundred pounds that your uncle left to you. You will have it as soon as you turn one and twenty.”
“He was exceedingly generous and I am so sorry that I barely knew him. I cannot understand why he left everything to me.”
“Well, my dear, you were born at a time of deep sorrow for him. His wife passed away giving birth to their child in the same year and he must have found some comfort in you. Then, when you grew up, you shared his passion for fishing and wildness. That was enough for you to become his favourite relative.”
“When I get my inheritance, I shall use a little of it to repair the cottage. The rest I will keep for a time we might desperately need it, that I hope will never come.”
“Excellent plan, my dear. I hope you will be more skilful in preserving your money than I have been. I am an indolent father and an even worse landlord.”
“Papa, you have always been a loving father. I could not imagine a better one! It is true that you have not excelled in managing Longbourn, but that was only because you did not take the trouble to practice,” she jested. “You have always chosen a good book over other tasks.”
“Yes, and that habit has brought us to our present situation of relative poverty. But now it is too late and I am too old to improve anything. If only your uncle Gardiner might have some ideas when they come for Christmas.”
“You are not old, Papa, but I am sorry to say this, I do not believe managing an estate suits you. However, I always look forward to my uncle and aunt Gardiner’s visits; I only hope Mr. Collins will be gone by then.”
∞∞∞
“Living in the countryside is boring and tiresome all the time, but when the weather is so horrible, it becomes insupportable!” Caroline Bingley declared.
“It is a waste of time, indeed. Let us play cards. Or billiards,” Mr. Hurst suggested, gulping more from his glass.
“Please do not count on me, I must go to the library to complete several letters,” Darcy said.
He was already tired of such conversation.
Although they were all luxuriating at Bingley’s expense, the Hursts and Caroline did nothing but complain about Netherfield and he could not bear to hear them any longer.
Too many restless nights and the continuous struggle between his long-assumed duty and his newly-aroused desires had exhausted his body and mind.
His disposition was already low, permanently stuck between ire and vexation, and he could barely keep his composure and carry on a civil conversation.
“Mr. Darcy, I feel our company is not to your liking any longer. Your preferences seemed to have completely changed,” Caroline continued, insinuatingly.
“You are wrong, I assure you, Miss Bingley,” he answered briefly, aiming to avoid another annoying discussion on the same subject.
Elizabeth had spent several days at Netherfield, nursing her sister, Jane — a time of equal delight and torture for him.
Seeing her every day had allowed him to discover more of her beautiful nature and character and his admiration for her had increased.
But so had his regrets, as he had realised she was everything he had ever wanted in a woman, and yet so far from what his responsibility demanded him to choose in a wife.
Due to his foolishness in confessing his admiration for Elizabeth, Caroline had been constantly insolent, trying — and mostly failing — to offend her at any opportunity.
He had often felt the urge to defend her, but his intervention had not been needed.
Elizabeth’s wit and strength had helped her to win every argument with Caroline.
Some of their confrontations had been delicious for Darcy to witness but had only added to his turmoil.
Therefore, he had been relieved when Elizabeth and her sister had finally returned home, but only moments later he had found himself missing her and longing for her.
On top of everything else, a dreadful appearance had ruined his last shreds of tranquillity: a regiment of militia had camped in Meryton and the last man in the world he expected to find joining the corps was there too.
George Wickham. He had not seen the scoundrel since his sordid attempt to elope with his sister but then there he was, on the streets of Meryton, speaking cordially with Elizabeth.
Two days had passed since then and Darcy’s mind was full of scenarios involving Elizabeth and Wickham.
He trusted her wisdom enough to believe she would not fall for that man’s falsehoods, but still, his worry slowly turned into panic imagining Wickham anywhere close to her.
“I am so glad we will leave soon! It is the only thing that makes this upcoming ball bearable! I miss London and I look forward to seeing dear Georgiana!” Caroline said.
“Do not forget that I will only stay in London for a week,” Bingley replied.
“Nonsense, you cannot possibly spend Christmas without us,” Louisa answered. “Mr. Darcy, do tell him he is being unreasonable!”
“With or without you, I shall celebrate Christmas at Netherfield. Whilst I would enjoy your company and Darcy’s, I do not need anyone’s approval.”
“Please excuse me, I must finish my letters. Your Christmas plans are mostly a family matter,” Darcy interrupted them, then withdrew to the library, wishing for the rain to finally stop so he could take a long ride.
He wondered what Elizabeth was doing in such bad weather. Did she prefer to read? Playing the pianoforte, maybe? Or simply talk to her sisters?
Such rainy days could be dreadful but also delightful if the company was what one desired.
For him, Elizabeth was the perfect companion, regardless of the weather, but having her resting in his arms, warmed by his embrace, by his caresses, by his kisses, was only a dream that would haunt his sleepless nights.