Chapter 57 Netherfield
Elizabeth gazed out the carriage window.
September was almost spent. The harvest had largely been completed.
Golden stubble covered many of the fields, while neat stacks of grain stood near the barns awaiting threshing.
The sight filled Elizabeth with melancholy.
She thought of Lydia, Mrs. Jenkinson, Lady Catherine, and now Mr. Collins.
Life was uncertain. Those who were present one day could be gone the next, and no one knew what the future might bring.
Hedgerows heavy with blackberries and scarlet hips bordered the lanes. Though the countryside still wore its summer green, here and there a chestnut tree had begun to don its autumn colors. Summer was drawing to a close.
Her gaze settled upon Mary. She was nursing baby Edward while Kitty held Thomas. Georgiana slept in the corner of the carriage.
Mary spent nearly all of each day in the nursery with her babies. Now, as they traveled south to Longbourn, she passed the hours holding one or both of her sons in her arms. She was utterly devoted to the boys and was contented in a way Elizabeth had never before seen in her sister.
Both Elizabeth and Kitty had laid aside their black mourning gowns, but Mary still dressed in deep black.
One afternoon, Mary had said, “Lizzy, I must remind myself not to laugh and not to appear too cheerful. I am a newly widowed wife, and people expect to find me brought low, but I cannot oblige them. I feel a profound sense of relief that I need not spend the next forty years living with Mr. Collins.”
There was nothing Elizabeth could say that she had not already said. She had great faith that their father would help Mary through this difficult season of her life. She only hoped it would not prove too trying for her widowed sister to live under the same roof with their mother.
The carriage stopped at Netherfield Park first, as it lay off the main road. Darcy opened the carriage door and handed Elizabeth, Kitty, and Georgiana down. Their trunks were unloaded, and the Miller brothers attended the coach for the final three miles to Longbourn.
Darcy led Elizabeth forward and said, "Charles, thank you for opening your home to us."
Mr. Bingley bowed. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Darcy."
He then addressed his friend. "The pleasure is mine, Darcy."
Darcy turned to Kitty. "And this is Miss Kitty Bennet, Elizabeth’s youngest sister. And you remember Georgiana?"
Charles bowed to both sisters. "Miss Bennet, Georgiana, a pleasure."
He offered Kitty his arm. "Come. You must all be exhausted. My housekeeper will show you to your rooms." He offered his other arm to Georgiana, and he led them up the walk.
"Mr. Darcy! You are here! I have missed you, sir."
Elizabeth watched as the tall, full-figured woman with flaming red hair descended upon her husband and embraced him. She could feel the heat as it rose to her cheeks. How dare Miss Bingley throw herself into Fitzwilliam’s arms, and he a married man?
Her astonishment deepened when the woman pressed her curvaceous figure against his form until her body was flush against his, seemingly indifferent to who might witness such behavior.
Elizabeth glanced toward Mr. Bingley, but he had already gone ahead with Kitty and Georgiana, leaving her alone to observe the startling display.
Elizabeth's heart began to pound against her breast as she watched the woman cling to her husband.
What was Miss Bingley to Fitzwilliam? There was a familiarity between them that made her question the nature of their relationship.
Had she once been his mistress? Was that why Miss Bingley had been so insufferable at the ball?
The woman's arm was entwined with his, her elegant hands clasped firmly around his forearm. She held Mr. Darcy as though she possessed some claim upon him. As for the look in her eyes as she gazed up at him, there could be no mistaking it. This woman clearly adored Mr. Darcy.
Then, at last, Elizabeth saw him draw away.
He disengaged himself from her long-fingered hands and stepped back.
"Caroline, I believe you have met my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy."
Elizabeth watched as the woman, plainly stunned by this announcement, stared at him in disbelief.
"Your wife?"
"Yes. We were married in January. I wrote to Charles. Did he not tell you?"
She stood speechless, staring at him. Elizabeth watched her closely. The disbelief written plainly across the woman's face was enlightening. This Miss Bingley had fully expected to become Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy herself.
For several uncomfortable moments, all three remained standing in the drive. Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy looked at one another while Elizabeth felt herself an outsider, observing a relationship of some duration, if she judged the woman's familiarity correctly.
A feeling of unease settled over her. Would Mr. Darcy use a woman and then cast her aside to marry another who pleased him better?
She stiffened at the thought. She was the outsider here. These two shared a history that excluded her. At least the woman was no longer clinging to Mr. Darcy as though he belonged to her.
Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth and held out his hand.
"Come, Elizabeth. Charles was to show us to our rooms."
She moved to his side. He smiled down into her eyes as he gently took her arm and guided her into the house.
Elizabeth felt strangely alienated as she climbed the stairs to their rooms. Thankfully, Miss Bingley remained behind in the foyer, no doubt staring after them as they departed.
The housekeeper met them on the landing and escorted them to their rooms.
"Mrs. Darcy, shall we draw your bath?"
"Yes, please."
Elizabeth entered the bedchamber. It was beautifully appointed in various shades of green. She paused to take in the room, careful not to look at her husband.
He closed the door behind them, then gently took her arm and led her to a couch facing the hearth. She sat down with deliberate distance between them, but he closed the gap and seated himself beside her.
"Elizabeth, it is not what you think. There is nothing between Caroline and me."
"Caroline, sir?"
"That is to say, Miss Bingley. We have known one another for seven years. Long ago, she asked me to call her Caroline, and because the Bingleys are such close friends, I am in the habit of referring to her by her Christian name."
Elizabeth sat very straight and very still as she listened. Her eyes remained fixed upon his face, searching for some clue that might reveal the true nature of his relationship with Miss Bingley.
After a moment, he asked, "You have nothing to say, darling?"
She looked back at him with a grave expression.
He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away from him. He continued.
"That greeting must have appeared peculiar to you. I confess she has always greeted me in that manner, and though I do not care for it and disengage myself as soon as I am able, she has never taken the hint. I am afraid it has become a habit of seven years' standing."
Elizabeth pressed her lips into a thin line, and she watched his face through narrowed eyes.
"Darling, I can see that you are upset by…"
"The spectacle, sir?"
"I was going to say, by what passed between my old friend and me."
"Old friend, sir? She seems quite young to me. And voluptuous."
Despite the tension, the corner of his mouth twitched.
"I meant a friend of long standing. There is nothing between us, I assure you."
"And I assure you, sir, that you cannot assure me of any such thing. Her embrace was…"
"Ah, yes. Her manner was exceedingly familiar, and upon reflection, I can understand why you would be distressed by what you witnessed."
Elizabeth clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "It is not what I saw that is so distressing to me, sir, but what I have not seen that most concerns me."
Darcy's expression grew serious. "What do you mean, Elizabeth?"
She held his gaze. "Is she, or has she ever been, your mistress, sir?"
His brows rose nearly to his hairline in astonishment.
"My mistress? Elizabeth, how can you say such a thing to me after all this time? Surely you know me better than that."
Her eyes filled with tears. "I thought I did, sir, but what I witnessed and her familiarity with your person told me a different story. She attached herself to you as though she had some claim upon you, as though it were a familiar embrace, Mr. Darcy."
"Mr. Darcy? I am Mr. Darcy to you now?"
The tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. He offered her a handkerchief. She accepted it and dashed the tears away with more force than was necessary.
"I hate that I am weeping, sir. I have no wish for you to see me humiliated in this way, by a woman who so plainly believes herself entitled to your attentions...and to your person."
His expression softened. "Elizabeth." He placed his hands upon her shoulders and bent his head nearer to hers.
"She is not my mistress. There is nothing between us. There never has been, and there never will be. She would likely agree to become my mistress if she could not be my wife, but I assure you, Elizabeth, I have never regarded her in that way. She is my best friend's sister, and nothing more."
He paused before continuing.
"Indeed, if I have ever encouraged her hopes, it has been entirely without intention. I have never courted her, never sought her affection, and never given her reason to believe that I returned hers. Whatever expectations she may have formed were of her own making."
Elizabeth looked into his eyes. She found truth there, and distress as well. He was suffering too. She blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. "So, you have never kissed her?"
"Kissed her?" He looked horrified. "No indeed.
Never. I find the very notion appalling.
When you come to know her better, you will understand why she has not yet attracted a husband.
She is a very difficult woman, Elizabeth.
I concede she is beautiful, with her fine figure and striking red hair, but her character leaves much to be desired. "
Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. He thinks her figure is fine and her hair striking…
He drew nearer to his wife and placed his arm gently around her shoulders.
"By the end of dinner this evening, you will understand why I have never, from the first day I met her, felt any desire to know her better, much less court her.
Even with her beauty and her thirty-thousand-pound dowry, I doubt she will ever secure a husband unless he is a man in desperate need of a fortune to relieve debts or some other pressing necessity. "
Elizabeth opened her eyes and then kept her gaze fixed upon him as she considered his words. She could hardly fault him for acknowledging Miss Bingley's beauty. The woman was undeniably handsome, and an heiress besides. Of course, she was an heiress. That woman enjoyed every advantage.
"Very well, sir. I shall endeavor to put aside my concerns, though I must admit that I am jealous."
His eyes softened. "Jealous?"
"Yes. She embraced you in a manner that your own wife has never done in public."
A smile tugged at his lips. "Of course you have not. You are a genteel woman, Elizabeth. I do not believe you could conduct yourself in such a forward manner even if your life depended upon it."
Taking her hand, he grew serious once more.
"Please do not allow this woman to come between us. Your manner has been so stiff and distant that I scarcely know what to do with myself. I feel as though you have shut me out entirely and placed me in your black books."
Her brow relaxed, and a faint smile touched her lips.
"Well, I could not possibly be happy if my husband were embracing his mistress, sir. But you say she is no such thing, and so I shall endeavor to set the matter aside."
He took her hand.
"Darling, I did not embrace her. She did all the embracing and pressing.
She is nothing to me. I ought to have stepped back and offered my hand before she had the opportunity to throw herself at me in that manner.
I apologize, Elizabeth. I forgot that she was in the habit of, of doing that.
I promise you, it will not happen again.
Is everything well between us, darling?"
"Yes, sir."
He bent his head and kissed her on the mouth. His voice rumbled deep in his chest as he murmured, "Elizabeth, I love you so much."
His voice was low, his touch affectionate. He kissed her again. "Darling, are we truly well?"
She nestled her face against his neck and pressed small kisses along his jaw and in the hollow beneath his ear.
"Yes, sir. We are well. I was very distressed, but since there has never been anything between the two of you, and there is nothing now, I shall strive to set aside my fears."
After a moment, she added, "Perhaps we should stay at Longbourn."
He lifted her onto his lap and buried his face in her hair.
"Charles would be very hurt, darling. We have been friends for nearly eight years."
"Very well, sir. We shall remain here, and I will do my best to tolerate Miss Bingley."
Darcy laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her temple.
"That is all I ask. If you can endure Caroline for her brother’s sake, I shall consider it a further proof of your kindheartedness, Elizabeth."