A Better Understanding, page 8
Darcy finished Georgiana’s letter, all of which read in a similar vein, and sat frozen in his chair for several minutes. Exclamation points! Multiple exclamation points. He was tempted to count them, so marvelous did he find each one. The last time Georgiana had written to him in such a fashion was over six months past, before George Wickham arrived in Ramsgate and began his attempted seduction.
The letter had not once begged for his forgiveness, or alluded to her shame. No, the worst line in the entire letter referenced Miss Elizabeth’s presumed opinion, and even that read with an upbeat tone.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Darcy re-read the letter. What had changed? She had clearly appreciated the tale of Miss Bingley and Miss Elizabeth but— Darcy froze, frowning as he thought back to that letter. It had not, perhaps, been written in his usual tone. Had Georgiana taken her cues from him? Surely—surely she had not written for months with such solemnity because of a precedent he set.
Then again, when had he ever written to tell her a story of what could, strictly speaking, be construed as inappropriate behavior? He did not tell amusing stories, or pass along jokes. Unbidden, a snippet of conversation came back to him:
“It is a rule with me,” Miss Bingley said, “that a person who can write a long letter with ease, cannot write ill.”
“That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline,” cried her brother, “because he does not write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?”
At the time, Darcy had brushed aside his friend’s comment, deeming Bingley’s hastily-scribbled missives far inferior to his own correspondence. Perhaps, though, Bingley had the right of it. Does not write with ease. Is that how his letters to Georgiana came across? If his pride, his solemnity had caused pain to his sister—Darcy could not bear the thought.
Perhaps it was a coincidence, a fluke. But just in case he had stumbled onto something important, Darcy picked up his pen and considered his words with care.
Georgie,
I do have an update for you, and will tell you without delay so your curiosity can be satisfied and you may have the patience to read the other news I have to relay. Mr. Bingley has proposed to Miss Bennet, and you would not believe the display I had the dubious privilege to witness this morning when his sister became aware of the agreement. Miss Bingley, it seems, is not at all resigned to the match and there may yet be cause for Miss Elizabeth to come to her sister’s defense again. But I digress. Her manner upon entering the breakfast room, where Mr. Bingley, our cousin Richard, and I were all gathered, can be described only as hysterical…
*
As expected, Bingley refused to remain separate from his intended for long, and so the three gentlemen set off for Longbourn as soon as polite visiting hours had arrived. Caroline flat-out refused to accompany them, not that her presence was missed.
“I’d ship her and the Hursts back to London in a heartbeat and let them deal with her,” Bingley grumbled as the carriage pulled out of Netherfield’s drive, “but then I am a single bachelor without a lady of the house, and Miss Bennet could not call at Netherfield without scandalizing all of Meryton and risking her reputation.”
“Marry her quickly, then,” Richard advised, and Bingley’s annoyance transformed at once into joy.
“By God, I intend to! If Mr. Bennet is amiable to the idea, I am off to London at once to procure a special license. She has reached her majority, so strictly speaking does not need her father’s permission, but neither of us want to upset her family.” He sighed. “We must wait until after the holidays, I suppose, and then she will need time to procure a trousseau from Town, but I intend to marry her by the end of January, or I am sure I shall lose my senses.”
Richard laughed. “Spoken like a man in love. Tell me, do you foresee any problems with the father?”
Bingley glanced at Darcy before replying. “I find it unlikely. Mrs. Bennet will be delighted, I am sure, although I couldn’t say how much sway she holds with her husband. What do you think, Darce?”
“I cannot imagine Mr. Bennet denying his daughter a good match, especially when it is one she desires.” He allowed himself a smile. “As for influencing his opinion—Miss Elizabeth clearly loves her sister and wishes for her happiness, and from what I have heard and observed she does have sway with her father.”
Bingley grinned. “I had forgotten Miss Elizabeth, but you are correct!” He shook his head. “Would that my sisters could be more like her. I would far rather argue with Miss Elizabeth than Caroline, even if the former is more likely to win!”
He continued on, ready and eager to find all of the Bennets delightful. Darcy half-listened, his thoughts returning to Georgiana’s letter once again. Of course, he could not consider his sister without thinking of Wickham, and by the time the carriage pulled up at Longbourn he had once again fallen to considering what to tell Elizabeth about the lieutenant.
They entered; Miss Bennet and Bingley both flushed pink and could hardly look at each other. More telling, Darcy watched as Miss Elizabeth gave Bingley a broad smile before directing her attention to greeting the other gentlemen. Mrs. Bennet fussed over Bingley as usual before turning to meet Richard.
Miss Elizabeth’s smile turned impish as Bingley gave the colonel’s credentials and family name, and Darcy was suddenly sure neither she nor Miss Bennet had breathed a word of his cousin’s connections. Mrs. Bennet clearly did not expect to receive the son of an earl, and gaped at Richard for several moments before curtseying and launching herself into a soliloquy on the charms of gentlemen in regimentals. Bemused, Richard let himself be seated by the younger girls as Kitty and Lydia joined in their mother’s praise.
Darcy chose the remaining spot between Misses Elizabeth and Mary, nodding at the latter before fixing his attention on Miss Elizabeth. “How fares your father, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, pitching his voice slightly louder than required.
Surprise and something else danced across her face for a moment before it smoothed into a vague, genial expression. “He is well, sir, and is currently reading in the library to avoid our silliness.”
“Oh!” Bingley exclaimed from across the room. “That reminds me, there is a matter I would like to discuss with him. Darcy is knowledgeable on estate matters, of course, but he is not familiar with this area. Would Mr. Bennet object greatly to an interruption?”
“Of course not!” Mrs. Bennet said at once, momentarily distracted from Richard. “I am sure he would love to help with whatever it is you require. This estate has been in his family for seven generations, after all, longer even than the Lucas family has been in the area! Whatever information you need, Mr. Bennet will be your best source.”
Bingley gave Miss Bennet a swift smile and departed. Bending her head as if fetching something from her sewing basket, Elizabeth shot Darcy a conspirator’s smile.
Do it now, he thought sternly. Do it while she is readily adjacent and thinking well of you—or at very least not angry.
“Miss Elizabeth, I wonder if I might ask your opinion on a subject of some delicacy?” he asked. Richard and he had decided the warning must be framed in reference to Georgiana, even if she was not identified.
Her brow furrowed, but it appeared to be more from confusion than anger or annoyance. “Of course, I am happy to be of service.”
“I fear—” Darcy broke off, glancing across the room at Richard. Why had he not insisted his cousin be the one to tell her? “I fear this may cause you distress, but I know no other young lady of sense whom I can consult. I must beg forgiveness now for any pain, for that is the opposite of my intent.” He paused, considering the next, most crucial part. “If a man were to—”
“Elizabeth, I need you!” Mrs. Bennet called from across the room, not bothering to look up at her daughter.
Her eyes closed for a long moment, as if asking for patience, but she did not resist. “Excuse me, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps I may hear your question later this morning?” Elizabeth walked away without waiting for an answer, and despite her words, did not come near enough to continue the conversation for the rest of the visit.
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth
It was a sign of her mother’s awe of Colonel Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth supposed, that she had not guessed why Mr. Bingley truly wished to speak with Mr. Bennet. She could not complain at their success, however—and it had been managed with assistance from Mr. Darcy, of all people! It did not make sense. It was impossible that she had swayed the gentleman’s opinion enough that he would assist his friend in pursuing Jane’s hand, rather than attempt to dissuade him.
Mr. Bennet had been forewarned, and while he teased both his elder daughters by pretending to consider rejecting the match, he had no objections when it came to point. Mr. Bingley was to leave for London the following day once the church service was complete, meaning he would be well away when Jane announced the news to her mother and younger sisters.
That had been the other point of giving their father advance notice, since it would have been customary to announce the engagement as soon as agreement was given. Jane, nerves already stretched thin, had begged her father to tell Mrs. Bennet where Mr. Bingley could not hear her response—and although Mr. Bennet threatened to leak the news at church and let the entire population of Meryton hear his wife’s raptures, he agreed to Jane’s wishes in that regard as well.
Jane broke the news as they arrived home from church. “Mr. Bingley gone to London again?” Mrs. Bennet had exclaimed, allowing Hill to divest her of cloak and pelisse. “This is horrible news! What is he thinking? It is insupportable. Surely he cannot have that much business; does he not have a man to attend to smaller matters while he is gone? Can he not send a letter?”
“There are some things that gentleman like to do for themselves,” Mr. Bennet said with a wink for Elizabeth. “Perhaps this is one of those times.”
“What can be so important that it takes him away from my Jane, when he has only just returned? You wait and see, he will catch his death with all this travel!”
“Mama,” Jane began quietly, her cheeks turning pink. Mrs. Bennet would have spoken over her, had she not added in a louder voice, “Mama, I know why he has gone to London.”
“Do you? Well, at least he told you that! And when will he return, do you know that as well?”
“He expects to be back at Netherfield no later than Wednesday.”
“Wednesday! A whole three days from now. What can possibly take so long? It must be something he could turn over to a man of business, is it not, Jane? My brother could put him in touch with someone, I am sure, and then he could stop this constant travel.”
“He has gone to procure a marriage license.”
“Well! Surely that does not take three—” Mrs. Bennet stopped and pivoted on her heel to face Jane directly. “He has gone to procure what?”
Elizabeth stepped closer to her sister, offering her silent support.
“A special license. Mr. Bingley has asked me to marry him, and I accepted.”
Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth, then closed it again, looking rather like a fish. “Marry him,” she repeated softly, eyes unfocused. “Marry him!” Her attention snapped fully back to Jane. “My girl, we are saved! Marry him! Mrs. Bingley! How well that sounds! A daughter married at last. And four thousand a year, or more likely five! Oh, my dear, we must plan another dinner. Wednesday, you say? Tell me again his favorite foods, I shall commit them to memory. Oh, goodness, married!”
“My dear,” Mr. Bennet said from the side of the room, where he had been watching the scene unfold with amusement, “we will have one other guest to plan for, although he arrives somewhat later than Wednesday.”
“Oh? And who is that?”
“I have had a letter from Mr. Collins. He arrives a week from tomorrow, and intends to stay until the following Saturday.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyebrows snapped down into a scowl. “Oh yes, of course we must host him as well, although I don’t know why he cannot stay at Lucas Lodge. He probably intends to gloat over all of us, and I am sure Charlotte Lucas does the same!”
She turned back to Elizabeth and Jane, expressions flickering between excitement and anger at the pair of them. “But what is Mr. Collins to Mr. Bingley,” she managed at last. “Do come with me, Jane, I must know what food to prepare.” Mrs. Bennet bustled off, and Jane, shooting a concerned look at Elizabeth, dutifully followed after her mother.
*
To Elizabeth’s immense relief, the following week passed in a quiet fashion, and she almost felt up to the challenge of facing Mr. Collins by the time he was due to arrive. All five sisters walked into Meryton that morning— “For we shall not be able to go in peace once he is in residence,” Kitty had grumbled.
“Or he will spend his days at Lucas Lodge and we shall only see him for breakfast and the occasional dinner,” Elizabeth replied, wondering if she could will it into being.
“La, I hope you are right, Lizzy,” Lydia said, “but I will not take the chance, for as soon as I do he will insist on coming with us everywhere, and the officers cannot stand him prattling on. I do not blame them—I would walk away from his nonsense if I could, too!”
“Is that not what you did when he stayed with us last?” Mary asked, earning a glare before Lydia took Kitty’s arm and flounced off towards the milliner’s—or perhaps Captain Denny and his friends, who stood in front of the adjoining store.
“My, to what do we owe this pleasure?” a male voice asked over Elizabeth’s shoulder.
She turned and found Mr. Wickham smiling at her. “And what pleasure is that, sir?”
“Why, all five Bennet sisters out at once. Meryton shall be overcome by the beauty.”
“Meryton has dealt with us for many years and survived, Mr. Wickham.”
“Yes, but I declare I have never seen you look finer than you do this morning. To where are you bound?” He held out an arm and Elizabeth took it readily. Had she been frustrated with him when they last spoke? She could not recall why, other than the same frustration and annoyance that had plagued her throughout the autumn—since Mr. Darcy had arrived, if she was honest. Did that gentleman have to ruin everything? And when he had already caused Mr. Wickham so much pain, too.
“I thought to visit the bookstore. My cousin is due to make another visit, you see, and I expect to need entertainment.”
His eyes crinkled at her jest. “Ah yes, Mr. Collins must be anxious to see his betrothed. I was rather shocked that he left so soon after the agreement was formed—if it was me, I could not bear to be separated from my beloved. But then Miss Lucas was not his first choice, was she? Perhaps it would have been different, had the future Mrs. Collins been another lady.”
“Charlotte will make an excellent parson’s wife,” Elizabeth stated firmly, “for she is far more agreeable than I have ever been. Had the other lady been induced to accept Mr. Collins, she very well might have strangled him within the first fortnight!”
“A fortnight?” Mr. Wickham asked. “You are generous; I would have wagered on no more than a sennight.”
Elizabeth burst out laughing. “Was my lack of patience with him so obvious, sir?”
“To one who observed you keenly? It was very noticeable indeed, though I cannot say how the general population might perceive the matter.” Mr. Wickham lowered his voice. “I do wonder how Miss Lucas will find her husband’s patroness.”
They entered the bookstore and after a brief greeting to the shopkeeper, Elizabeth wandered towards the back of the store. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”
“You have heard of her, then.”
“Heard of her? Mr. Wickham, one cannot be in company with my cousin for a quarter hour without hearing a full recitation of her qualities. And did you know, the chimney piece at Rosings cost upwards of eight hundred pounds!”
He laughed again, then shook his head. “You have heard, then, that she is Darcy’s aunt?”
“Yes, Mr. Collins was highly excited to meet the gentleman at Mr. Bingley’s ball.”
Wickham pulled a book from the shelf at random and flipped through it. “It is one matter in which I have always felt bad for Darcy, all other considerations aside. You see, he is engaged to Lady Catherine’s daughter Anne. They were expected to wed years ago, but I cannot blame Darcy for wishing to delay Lady Catherine becoming his mother in law as well as his aunt.”
Elizabeth felt her eyebrows jump upwards in surprise. “I had not heard of an engagement, although it explains why he is so decidedly uninterested in any of the young ladies here.”
“It is an old engagement, formed when they were both in their cradles, and while Darcy has never treated it with much seriousness I cannot see him casting off his family’s expectations. He is not one to follow his heart, if you have not noticed.” He shot her a sideways look that Elizabeth could not interpret but caused her entire body to tingle all the same. “I suppose I am not free to do so either, not as I would wish, but I still consider myself lucky that I have a choice in who I select as a wife.”
It was time to return the conversation to something safer. Much as she liked Mr. Wickham, speaking of marriage would lead nowhere. “You have met Miss de Bourgh, I assume?”
“Anne? Oh, yes. If anything I feel even sorrier for her. She is a sickly little thing and has been all her life. Would you think me entirely horrible if I confess to thinking that Lady Catherine poisons her to keep her docile? She is not a person who takes well to differing opinions in others, especially not in her daughter. In the normal course of things, Anne may escape by marrying, but of course Darcy is nothing but more of the same.
“Surely he would not poison his wife!” Elizabeth exclaimed, remembering at the last moment to keep her voice down.
