Beginning, Section III, Section IV

Chapter XVI

Posted on October 26, 2008

Sophie’s grand plans for my re-entrance into Derbyshire Society were farther reaching than a dinner party. If, she pointed out, I would have to make the effort now, then I may as well have some fun in the process. This she announced to the whole drawing room one evening, after dining with us. “An assembly?” my husband blustered, “Whatever for, Lady St Vincent? The Conrads are giving a ball in a few weeks, can you not wait until then?”

“I have often observed that public balls offer something that private ones do not,” she replied calmly.

“You have?” I whispered, amazed to hear her declaring such a statement. My husband had missed my comment completely.

“I suppose you think the same, do you, Elizabeth?” my husband asked me.

“I have little experience of either to tell, sir.” But knowing that I was eager to go, despite my surprise at Sophie’s enthusiasm, I added, “I believe some investigation may be in order.”

“Well, then I suppose we ought to remedy that.” He smiled like an indulgent father. His son, I could not help noticing, rolled his eyes. “Fitzwilliam, you shall accompany the girls and I, shall you not?” he asked, though I do not think that he had any wish for a response. Wisely, his son held his tongue and merely inclined his head. A slight clench in his jaw told me of his displeasure in the plan. For once, I was inclined to sympathise with him. Spending an evening with a consummate stoic held as much appeal to me as an evening of dancing did to him.

So Sophie’s schemes were easily settled. My husband only added the demand that Fitzwilliam ask Jane for the first set, which he promptly, if not entirely willingly did.

The assembly at Buxton was only one of many engagements. Invitations for the family, to any number of dinners, teas and card parties (as well as a few balls) had suddenly appeared in the post. I wondered if there had been this many when I had first been married; my husband had dealt with such matters then. Whether the great number that had appeared in my correspondence was an indication of Derbyshire’s grand dames’ acceptance of my lowly personage, or purely toleration of my company, since they were well aware that wherever the Darcys went, the Grimstons would follow. The attraction of having the famous Grimston Girl at their gathering was no doubt more overpowering than repulsion to having me there.

Whatever the reason, the women proved to be more welcoming than before. Whatever social mistake my husband had made in offering for me was lesser than the mistake of angering the Grimstons. That was simply suicide.

Everybody seemed pleased to see my return to society. The women were more welcoming. Mama was glad that I was, “showing Jane about in better society,” thus putting pain to any bizarre schemes I may have with steward’s sons and curates. Jane too was glad for the change of scenery; it had been dull for her, much more so than for me, living at Primrose Lodge. Even my husband was glad that I appeared to be going about so much, receiving and making a multitude of calls with all the most important women of Derbyshire.

I could still see that some of the local ladies were judgemental and unpleasant, but I was less inclined to pay much mind to it than when I first arrived. My own situation was so different, that I could shrug off their disapproval, as I felt more approved at Pemberley and could ignore their sudden overtures of friendship. There were women, who in my self-indulged misery, I had failed to notice as being pleasant. I now realised that half the women who had asked where I came from did so in real interest, not out of scorn. They were perhaps not the women my husband most approved of, but he could not strictly disapprove them either.

I began to form friendships with a number of families living in the district. Calls were made, dinners attended and small parties gathered. The Darcys, Jane and I were busier than ever. For, with the widening of my perspectives of the locals, their social circle also widened. Never would they have thought to dine at the Morris’ estate, nor invite them to Pemberley. There was hardly a night when we were left alone.

Perhaps this business spared us some of the awkwardness of our own family circle, but I would like to think that we became more comfortable with one another. At the very least, all these comings and goings gave us something to speak of on the evenings we spent alone in the drawing room.

You may recall that my husband had demanded that I show civility to Lady and Miss Grimston; a task for which I had been anything but eager, especially to invite them into my more intimate circles. To me, the whole affair reeked of cunning, and I found it difficult to reconcile myself to it. If Miss Grimston was so determined to have my son-in-law, when he was apparently attracted to her, then what need was there for meddling?

It transpired that I had to make very little effort in forming a fast friendship with the Grimstons. Miss Grimston and her grandmother called at Pemberley the very day following the dinner we hosted. And, just as she had with my son-in-law, Miss Grimston easily carried the conversation for both of us. Her grandmother remained silent, present only as a companion, as opposed to a socialite. Away her granddaughter talked; always very charming and very amiable towards me.

Naturally, the call was returned, then another was made, and on it went. Out of politeness, I could not escape the friendship, but I was fully aware, that just as I was supposed to be courting her friendship, she too was playing her own game; integrating herself with me.

However much she may have desired the friendship, I found it difficult to warm to her. For the first time ever, I found myself sympathising with my mother. Here was my own prospective Collins, come to throw me from my home if my husband should die; for I had no doubt that she would do so. If not throw me out, she had grand designs in mind for improvements to Pemberley; she had told me so herself. “Do you not think, Mrs Darcy, that this room would look absolutely darling with Chinese silk papers?” she had begun one afternoon, “You must not mind me, I like to imagine these little things. Rearranging rooms, in my head at least, is something of a hobby of mine.”

“Diana has an eye for detail.” Lady Grimston announced. I was not too surprised by this; she only ever spoke in praise of her granddaughter, I had noticed.

My heart sank as they both spoke. The place, I knew, would become unrecognisable.

Two to three times a week though, I would find myself in one of the carriages on the way to Chicaneby Hall, the Grimston’s estate, accompanied more often than not, by my son-in-law. Trapped within the confines of the carriage with his silence, I wondered why he never rode if he would not talk; that was, until I heard Lady Grimston agreeing with Diana that gentlemen who called smelling of horses were not fit for civilised company. Sometimes Jane or my husband would accompany us, though my husband would abandon us on arrival for the comforts of Mr Grimston’s study. Once or twice, he and his son ventured forth alone.

“It seems to me,” I said one morning as Fitzwilliam Darcy and I journeyed home from a call, “that courting is very much a family affair.”

“I wonder that it surprises you. Mrs Darcy, I know that your marriage to my father was remarkable, but surely you must understand by now the importance of marriage within our circle. It is my duty to select a suitable bride, from my own sphere, with fortune, connections and breeding, it is not my place to go running around the country and falling in love.”

“Like your father.” I was verging on anger. He may not be in love with me, but the material point was that we were married.

“That is different, he had married my mother first, and she gifted him with all of those things. To marry so impulsively the second time is not so harmful to the family reputation. But the responsibility to me is different.”

“So your father, as repentance for behaving honourably towards me, has selected you a bride, who while not so high as his first choice, shall be enough to atone for the sin of connecting himself to me.” I retorted angrily.

“That is not…”

“Of course it is.” I yelled, outraged that he would even attempt to contradict me.

“Mrs Darcy,” he reached across the carriage and took my hand, “I have always known what was expected of me. The woman I married would always have had to meet with the approval of my family. You have not changed that.”

“If you know that, then why all this manoeuvring? Should you not just propose to Miss Grimston and have done? It seems to me you have little other option.” I asked more pleasantly and cheerfully.

“You think I lead her on?” he asked softly.

“No,” I laughed, “no I could not accuse you of such a thing.” It was impossible that a man who never spoke could lead a woman on. “I suppose I ought to be patient with you. Men are never ready to marry, even when they do propose.”

“It is a daunting prospect.” he admitted.

“And do you not think it more so for the lady? For you may retain all the comforts of your home, while she is obliged to move away from her family and all that she has ever known. Miss Grimston is to be congratulated on her choice, she shall be settled an easy distance from her family.”

“I cannot believe you. For young ladies have nothing in their heads but thoughts of marriage, distance is of little matter to them. Being married is the only true concern.”

“You are very severe on us. Besides, nothing could make me happier than having my mother and sisters settled within the park.”

“Yet do you not think you can be settled too close?” I blushed, remembering guilty how I had resented Mama’s arrival at first.

“Miss Grimston seems attached to her Grandmother; her Grandmother equally to her ancestral home. I do not think they should like to be parted.” I shrugged and he fell silent.

I was not the only person at Pemberley to dislike Miss Grimston. Georgiana could hardly say a civil word to or of Diana. Torn, I did not know for whom to feel sorrier. “I hope you and Miss Grimston do not really marry, Fitzwilliam,” she announced perching herself next to him one evening, “she called me a little puppet.”

Georgiana’s feelings towards Diana Grimston were, I concluded, much akin to her feelings towards myself. It was unlikely that they would ever succeed in being altered. Georgiana would continue to be threatened and jealous of our positions, no matter how little the evidence of affection from the Darcy men.

Buxton, where Sophie’s chosen assembly was to take place, was not the most popular of the British spas. Indeed, it had little to offer; a more experienced tourist would have been scornful of its pitiful offerings. Even with the financial backing of the Devonshire family in the latter half of the previous century, attempts to reinvigorate the place, as a peer to Bath, had been a half-hearted affair.

To the inexperienced eyes of Jane and myself, the place was a delight. We failed to notice its pitiful offerings, for next to Meryton it was a metropolis. And to Sophie, well, it suited her purpose most tolerably, for here, at least, was some hustle, bustle and frivolity at an almost effortless distance. Jane and I could not agree with her more, for there is but little that young girls love more than an assembly. And here was an assembly that held more promise than most, multiple new acquaintances, with all the follies and vices on display, and abundant young men to admire Jane. There was but one person destined to find fault in the affair, and there was simply no pleasing him.

The Assembly Rooms were inhabited, mostly, by merchants and tradesmen; this was not one of the greater resorts, nor was it the season for taking the waters, along with a handful of local gentry, and a clergyman and his family. My husband may have been most important person in attendance, but his single son was the gentleman of principal interest to the room. Many of the attendants were locals, as opposed to tourists, knew of him by reputation alone. Those unaware knew within five minutes that he was the heir to Pemberley, a grand estate near Buxton that was rumoured to be worth some ten thousand pounds a year. The young ladies clustered in excitable groups throwing furtive and seductive glances in his direction. The mothers clucked about their offspring, tweaking clothes and whispering encouragement and advice. One or two of the fathers were even so bold as to attempt an introduction to him. Most, though, were frightened off by his unrelentingly serious mien, as he skirted around the edge of the room like a tom cat, barely deserting his post for more than a few minutes to dispense of the necessary duties.

Only those who were already acquainted with Sophie were fortunate enough to succeed in exchanging what may, or may not, be called pleasantries with him. He had but little time for any of them. Indeed, he appeared uncharacteristically eager in leading Jane out for the first set.

The man of principal interest to me was to be somebody else entirely. I knew the behaviour of my son-in-law all too well to find either folly or amusement in it.

Miss Caroline Bingley was attending her first ball; eighteen years-old, educated at one of the finest establishments in town and with a fortune of twenty thousand pounds, a splendid fortune, but originated from trade. She was naturally of some interest herself, and much in demand amongst the gentlemen. Accompanying her was her brother, a young fellow recently gone down from Oxford for the summer, and their aunt and uncle.

It was not many minutes before an introduction was secured between the Bingleys and our party. I was bothered that despite having been introduced, there was no effort made to ask Miss Bingley if she had a set free. Darcy could hardly have forgotten he was at a ball, especially when as soon as the introductions were made, Mr Charles Bingley, whose eyes had alighted on my sister, asked her if she was free for the next set. Hoping not to slight the poor girl any further, I turned my attention to her. “I understand this is your first ball, Miss Bingley? How do you enjoy it?”

“Well enough; though I do not suppose that it can compare to those in Town. My sister, Mrs Hurst, has told me of many of the parties she has attended there. I hope to attend the next season.”

“You have a sister in Town?” Sophie asked with interest.

“Indeed, she is married to Mr Hurst of Grovesnor Street. I am sure that you have heard of him.” she replied pleasantly, but with little subtlety. Caroline Bingley was the type of girl whose intentions were known to the whole world.

“I cannot say that I know of him.” Sophie answered quietly.

“You are originally from Scarborough, I understand?” I changed the conversation.

“Yes.” She answered without elaboration, before adding, “Charles, Mrs Hurst and I came to be here shortly after our father died. But I have been in London for a long time, at Gough House.¹”

“I have a cousin at school there.” Sophie replied and named the girl, glad to have stumbled upon a common acquaintance. Their conversation was interrupted as a young man came to claim Miss Bingley’s hand for the next set. She was led away into the crowd, and so too was Jane, who was squired away by Mr Bingley.

Mr. Bingley was good looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners, was lively and unreserved, danced every dance, was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked eagerly of the next. Such amiable qualities must speak for themselves. What a contrast between him and my son-in-law. Mr. Darcy danced only one set each with Jane, Sophie and myself, declined introductions to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening walking about the room, not speaking to anybody.

I did not dance as much as I may have in my single days. It was fair enough that the younger men should not wish to slight the single ladies in favour of a married one, and I was not so exceptional in any case. Sophie spent much time introducing me to her friends, and for the rest of the time, I was happy to observe. My husband seemed content to accompany me all evening. In a quiet moment, as I was watching the dancers, he said, “I am sorry that I cannot ask you to dance, Elizabeth. This leg of mine, you know how it troubles me.”

“I am content to watch, sir. Mr Bingley has requested a set though. You might say I am becoming a true Darcy.”

“Are you indeed?” He chuckled, “Then would it shock you, if I told you that in my day I enjoyed a dance as much as young Mr Bingley over there?” He nodded at Mr Bingley who was partnering an unknown young lady.

“Really?”

“Quite so. Though I attended very few assemblies in the country, I must confess; just two or three in Lambton.”

“Then I suppose we must remedy your experience as well as mine.” I smiled at him, before Mr Bingley appeared to claim me for the next set.

Later in the evening, as I observed the taciturn glaring of my son-in-law, I decided to do something about his rudeness. In a free moment, I made my way over to him as he prowled at the edge of the room. “Do you always stand about in this stupid manner at balls, sir? Come, you must dance.” I urged him, for he had danced only three dances all night.

“I certainly shall not. I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sister and friend are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”

“Goodness, must you always be so fastidious?” I asked, teasingly. “A dance is not a marriage contract, you know?”

“I am well aware of that.” he stated. His arrogant comments about his surroundings had only served to anger me.

“Look, there is Miss Bingley. Be nice and ask her to dance, it is her first ball, after all. It is your duty to ask, and her right to be in demand.” He raised his eyes skywards, but admitted that I spoke some sense. With a slight air of reluctance, he made his way over to ask Miss Bingley for the honour of a dance. The girl simpered and blushed with pleasure at such a request from so illustrious a man.

I continued to watch him as he dully made his way through the dance with all the solemnity of a solider marching into battle. His movements were elegant and precise. Nobody would be aware that he found even less pleasure in this, for his manner had been as dour all evening. His cheerless visage had failed to deter the majority of single girls and their families.

Frustrated and embarrassed by his rudeness, I turned my attention to more pleasant observations. While he may not have been enjoying the ball, I was gratified to see that Jane and Mr Bingley danced not one, but two dances, over the course of the evening and when they were not dancing, they could be frequently seen in conversation; causing not some little amount of stirrings amongst the gathered company.

Jane and Mama called at Pemberley the morning after the Assembly. Jane had gently encouraged Caroline Bingley to call on her, and I knew well that Caroline would not be one to wait. Mama, curiosity piqued upon hearing that Jane was expecting a caller, roused herself from Primrose Lodge, determined to discover more. Mama was naturally eager to hear about every minute detail of the ball, from the ladies’ lace to each gentleman with whom Jane had danced. And I do mean every detail; from his age, to his height, income, profession (if he was so unfortunate as to have one), family, looks and conversation.

She had but little interest in any of the partners we managed to tell her of, before Caroline and Mr Bingley were announced. Hearing of Jane’s first set dancing with the gentleman was apparently enough for her to dismiss him as a character of any interest or prospect. “Well, you must excuse me.” she stated, calmly rising from her seat, “but I cannot accept callers, so I must be off. Jane, I shall see you at home later.” There was none of the usual excitable encouragement in her voice. Though Mr and Miss Bingley, unacquainted with my mother, saw nothing amiss in this. To me, her message was quite clear: she had no desire to associate herself with people whose money came from trade, now that she was the mother of the Mistress of Pemberley. I blushed, for even with her composed manners, she had still behaved reprehensibly.

“Please, take a seat.” I offered pleasantly. Mr Bingley, I noticed, took the seat next to my sister and favoured her with a smile, “Shall I have some refreshments prepared?” I offered.

“It was kind of you to call so soon.” Jane offered.

“Caroline was determined. After all your friendship last evening, she wished to return equal civility. And, when I heard, I thought it best to accompany her.”

“Yes, Charles was eager to see you again.” Caroline returned, addressing this comment, much more to Jane than to myself.

Mr Bingley and Jane were quick to fall into a private conversation. Leaving me to Caroline, who peppered me with all manner of questions and anecdotes of her school days.

Caroline Bingley was a young girl, just out in society, full of hopeful excitement for the heights her young life may one day be destined to reach. As yet, she was ignorant of the inevitable difficulties that life would throw in her path. Apparently, she had led a relatively charmed life, wealthy, well educated and almost ignorant of the blight which her trade roots would bring to her prospects. Not to mention, spurred on by the success of her first dance and her sister’s marriage to Mr Hurst of Grovesnor Street.

Both sisters had met with more admiration that approbation; their easy humour, pleasant manner and perhaps even their handsome faces and tidy fortunes had assured that. Miss Bingley was as certain that she would soon be welcomed warmly into good society as easily as the much mentioned Mrs Hurst had been. She had, I gathered, met with some little degree of resistance at school, but could still claim intimate acquaintance amongst the daughters of some of the first circle. Thoughts of an exceptional match were first and foremost within her mind; and the day of her call, it was within a more reachable distance than ever before. She was still glowing from the after effects of having danced with Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.

But those cheerful sensations were not to last any great length. Her pleasant recollections were to be dampened by the arrival of another caller. Miss Grimston, swept into the room and placed herself in front of her favourite seat, her grandmother shuffling a few steps behind her. The rest of the room rose to greet her; I made the introductions with alacrity. Diana spared Mr Bingley not more than a glance, which was to be expected, her heart was already settled on a gentleman of twice his looks and more than twice his consequence.

Likewise, Miss Bingley was not a rival worthy of her. Although Caroline was handsome, she could never be anything to either Jane or Diana Grimston, despite even features and a happy, healthy countenance. Miss Bingley’s attire was fashionable and tidy, a white muslin day dress, but dull; it would not be a revelation amongst society that all and sundry would imitate. Finally, it did not indicate any particularly exceptional degree of wealth; she was no threat to Miss Grimston’s inheritance of Chicaneby Hall. More than a few second glances told Diana all she believed she needed to know of the interloper. Miss Bingley’s enthusiastic greeting of, “I am charmed to make your acquaintance, Miss Grimston.” was met simply with a polite but cool,

“Yes.” from Miss Grimston. Lady Grimston had absolutely nothing to say for herself.

“Miss Bingley,” I turned to my newer acquaintance, “You must tell me of Scarborough. I wonder how it compares to Buxton.” I queried as I handed refreshments to Lady and Miss Grimston.

“Not favourably ma’am. There is but little to entertain there, they have a chair, but no assembly rooms.”

“I went to Bath, October last.” Miss Grimston cut it, “Papa thought that I was a little under the weather, and so I was. Was I not, Grandmamma? Though I could not go out and about much then, it was of infinite use to my health. And Grandmamma’s too. Have you ever been to Bath?”

“No, I have been to Leamington.” This remark gained only a return to silence from Miss Grimston. “And my sister, Mrs Hurst of Grovesnor Street, went to Brighton for her wedding journey. She says it is a very busy place, with plenty to amuse.” she added informatively.

The door opened, interrupting our conversation, to reveal Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. He looked about, more awkwardly than usual. I was not surprised; whenever Miss Grimston called, he would make an appearance. Whether design or desire was the prevailing force though, I was uncertain. I was aware that our butler was to inform him the moment of Miss Grimston’s arrival, but whether that was his father’s request or his I could not tell.

However unsure of the room he may have been, Miss Grimston stepped forward with easy assurance. “Ah Mr Darcy, I have been wondering where you might be. Come take a seat, sir,” she pushed him into the seat next to hers. “you must be tired. All that dancing last evening, how troublesome you must have found it.”

Before he was able to make a reply, Miss Bingley, with all her tact, stepped in, “I assure you that he did not find his dance with me troublesome at all.”

It was a mistake she would pay for. Every young woman in society knew that Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy was the rightful property of Diana Grimston, even if no announcement had been made. Caroline Bingley though, apparently knew little of this and instead staked her own claim to the man. Diana glared at her. “It was your first ball, I think, Miss Bingley.” She stated clearly, a fact that I had made known at the introductions. “Mr Darcy, you may learn in time, always behaves as is due. He is polite and well bred, and would never lead one to think their company was onerous.” She lectured in a kindly tone. Was she talking about the man sat so stiffly in his chair?

Diffusing the tense situation took all my powers of civility. “There now, I believe we were speaking of spa resorts, were we not?”

“Yes, yes we were, thank you Mrs Darcy.” Miss Grimston nodded her head politely, “I was just about to say, Mr Darcy, how much I should like to return to Bath and sample the cultural delights there. Do you not agree?”

“I have little experience of its cultural delights, Miss Grimston.” he answered shortly.

“My husband’s Godson spent some time in Bath last autumn. He seemed very keen on the place and all its amusements.”

“I would hardly trust his account, Mrs Darcy,” Mr Darcy began, I turned and glared at him quickly – now was neither the time nor place for one of our debates on Mr Wickham’s trustworthiness. “for remember he admitted to not going out much, given how out of sorts his friend was.”

“Oh,” Miss Grimston cut in, unconscious of the tension, “but that is nothing! Neither could I, but I believe I have a very good sense of the place. There is an amusement for everybody, assemblies, theatres, opera houses, shops and the best sort of society, who could offer every sort of amusement within their power.” She paused before beginning her recommendation again, “All it lacks for,” Miss Grimston added, “are the museums and galleries. London shall always be first in my heart, for only London can satisfy my thirst for knowledge. While Bath will only satisfy my parched mouth.” she answered prettily.

“I remember you saying that you went to one of Mr Davy’s demonstrations.” Jane suddenly looked up from the corner where she and Bingley had been engrossed for some time.

“Yes, it was most enlightening. He was lecturing on the difference between sodium and potassium, showing that they were created with different salts when they were electrolysed.” She explained to the mostly baffled room. “I am proud to report that I did not faint or swoon as many of the other ladies there did. I was interested in the science, and not the demonstrator himself.”² She added with not some little degree of derision.

“Caroline, I believe it’s well past time for you and me to be leaving.” Mr Bingley, peaceably cut in, before Miss Bingley could make any response.

“You are welcome to stay as long as you like.” I urged them, seeing the stricken look on Caroline’s face and knowing that Jane would dislike to be parted so soon too.

Miss Bingley looked as if she wished to say more, but remained silent. Poor girl, to have fallen into Miss Grimston’s bad books so easily. I could only begin to imagine what her much anticipated season in town would become. She still seemed unaware of how great her faux pas was, as upon departing, she turned to Miss Grimston, “I do hope that I shall see you again, Miss Grimston; it has been a pleasure hearing what you had to say on the sciences. I am expected in town next season, to stay with Mr and Mrs Hurst at Grovesnor Street. I am sure that I shall see you there.”

“Goodness, she was very eager.” Miss Grimston began as soon as they were out of earshot. “The brother seems a good sort of fellow, I shall admit. Jane, you have made a conquest there, and I could not be happier for you.”

1. Gough House, in this period was London’s largest but ‘very selective’ girls school was open from 1781-1845 and run by the Pemberton family.

2. Humphrey Davy. An English Chemist and Physicist who, in 1807, discovered the differences between Potassium and Sodium through the electrolysis of potash and soda respectively. He often appeared at public demonstrations where young girls were recorded as swooning frequently.
   

Chapter XVII

Posted on November 25, 2008

Jane could not have been happier for herself. Her calm demeanour still fully intact, it was her dreamy inattention to her surroundings which revealed her. Once our guest had gone for the day, and she and I were left to ourselves again. Jane, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley with Miss Grimston and Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy present, expressed her great admiration of him. “He is just what a young man ought to be,” said she, “sensible, good humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!—So much ease, with such perfect good breeding!”

“He is also handsome,” I laughed, “which a young man ought likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete.” The last time Jane and I had spoken in such a manner was of John Lucas; he and I had been involved in what I now knew to be a flirtation. Three months, and my ignorance of society, had led me to believe that I might marry him. Now I realised that this was the first time I had thought of him in many months. It had not been him that my heart had broken over in coming to Pemberley.

“I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I did not expect such a compliment.” Jane continued to enthuse.

“Did not you? I did for you. But that is one great difference between us. Compliments always take you by surprise, and me never. What could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person.”

“Dear Lizzy!”

“Oh! You are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general. You never see a fault in any body. All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in my life.”

“I would wish not to be hasty in censuring any one; but I always speak what I think.”

“I know you do; and it is that which makes the wonder. With your good sense, to be honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others! Affectation of candour is common enough;—one meets it every where. But to be candid without ostentation or design—to take the good of everybody's character and make it still better, and say nothing of the bad—belongs to you alone.”

“I do no such thing, Lizzy. You give me too much goodness.”

“No indeed, I think I do not. You, my dear Jane, are beyond any reproach in your behaviour. You are so good, that I can tell you so and know that your modesty will remain unharmed.”

Jane only laughed at what she perceived as exaggeration.

Jane and I returned the call, two days later, with an invite to dine at Pemberley the following evening. Mrs Bingley and her niece accepted most graciously, on the behalf of all the family. And thus an intimacy was begun.

My husband was not enthusiastic to hear that he would be required to entertain tradesmen. “Why Jane ever thought to invite them to the house in the first place is beyond me.” But he appeared resigned to it, especially when his son and I added our own recommendation of their company. Fitzwilliam Darcy carefully advised his father that Mr Charles Bingley had inherited some hundred thousand pounds from his father, and that with this, he hoped to purchase an estate of his own when he was done with university. This seemed to please my husband.

In a more quiet moment, I too reminded him that Miss Grimston had voiced her approval of Mr Bingley. This seemed to placate him further. If it did not trouble the Grimston’s then it would not trouble him. “Ah, Elizabeth, I see you are learning the wiles of wives.” He smiled at me fondly.

In truth, I was not so certain of Miss Grimston’s approval of the match. I suspected that she was simply gratified to see Jane receiving attention from one who she did not consider worthy of herself. I had seen her, watching Jane and my son-in-law in calm conversation, with not some little degree of jealousy in her eyes. With Jane, he was more unguarded than with herself. And though in private, Miss Grimston may have convinced herself that Darcy’s attraction to her rendered him speechless, or that he was not a man given to effusive speeches, she was still wary.

Jane and Darcy had known each other over a year by this time; and though he had been cautious of her at the outset of their acquaintance, he was not so now. He seemed to understand that Mama’s effervescent attempts to match him with Jane were not the desires of my sister. In the evenings, after dinner, we had often sat together, and he had come to recognise that Jane’s manners, all charm and pleasantness, were not for him alone; she never paid him any undue compliment or attention, and coupled with her lack of pretension, he had come to respect her. At least he respected someone from my family.

While the relationship between Darcy and myself remained alternatively fraught, then distant, Jane’s unassuming conversation had drawn him out, and the pair got along pleasantly. He seemed to have accepted Jane as part of his family, even more so than myself. Of all the single women in our society, Jane was the only one with whom he ever appeared to be totally at ease. Miss Grimston saw it, and was concerned; that much I knew. Miss Grimston never once thought that there could be something between them. He treated Jane with the affection of a brother. Even as he and I had argued over her supposed relationship with Mr Wickham, there had been more concern for Jane’s well-being on his part, than censure of her behaviour.

No, in the friendship between Jane and Darcy, Miss Grimston saw her own insignificance to him. He might be often in Miss Grimston’s company, but he treated her just as any of the other young ladies of their acquaintance, except Jane. He continued to be silent and distant. That he called on her could be Miss Grimston’s only consolation.

Miss Grimston was simply content to encourage Jane’s attentions elsewhere. She may have cautioned Miss Bingley harshly, but with Jane, she had not the luxury of warning words. To upset Jane would be to displease me, something she was well aware she could not afford to do. I wondered what her true opinion of Mr Bingley and his fortune was, for I doubted she would be so pleased by a long term attachment between my sister and Mr Bingley.

I suspected her belief was that nothing would come of it. Bingley was very young, just twenty, and not yet finished with university. When the summer came to a close, they would hardly see each other for another year. In all that time apart, constancy on his part would have been surprising.

I do not even believe that she thought that Jane would be injured by it all. Miss Grimston was the one to be always speaking of Bingley to Jane, who remained quiet and respectful, never voicing an opinion on the subject. To the outside eye, her heart appeared untouched, though she was flattered by the attentions.

Indeed, Jane never intimated to me that she held Mr Bingley in any particular affection. Beyond that first morning following the ball, she had rarely spoken of him, and when she had done so, it had never been in such glowing terms as initially. Yet when they were in company together, it was apparent that there was an attraction, on his part especially. He always sought out her company, and had it been left to him to determine, they would have spoken to the exclusion of all others. Jane did not allow it though. She often called upon Caroline Bingley, Darcy or me for an opinion.

Poor Jane, I knew her to be in some confusion! It was obvious, to me, that she very much liked Mr Bingley, or she would not have spent nearly so much time in his company. But she seemed determined not to give any sign of it, or encourage him too much. In part, I might have attributed it to her shy manners. It was not solely that though.

Jane did not wish to give offence to anybody. Encouraging Mr Bingley though, would be giving offence to her poor, dear mother. Mama had no specific objection to the Bingleys’ source of wealth, with her own dear brother in trade, how could she? No, she had no objection to a friendship between Jane and Caroline Bingley. She could not like Mr Charles Bingley’s attentions though.

Not half an hour after our callers had departed, I received a note from Primrose Lodge, declaring that she would be dining with us that evening, since she knew us to be unengaged. She held her tongue at the table, and was even silent as we waited for the gentlemen to return from their port. I had begun to suspect that she would say nothing at all on the matter. It was not to be the case though, for barely had my husband set his foot in the drawing room, did she began her tirade, “Mr Darcy, I am surprised at you, sir.”

“Madam?” he had asked politely, confounded.

“Yes, allowing tradesmen to make social calls at Pemberley of all places. Whatever can you be thinking of?”

“Ah,” he sighed at receiving some clarification, “the Bingleys. Then let me assure you, madam, it is not so bad as all that. They are a respectable family, very genteel in manners and education.”

“Oh I am sure they are. Miss Bingley seemed to be a very good sort of girl, and I can have no objection to her. But Mr Bingley, I have my suspicions of. He clearly thinks himself far above his station. You would do well not to pump him up more. He has set his sights on my dear Jane.” Sitting across from me, I saw Jane’s demeanour slip briefly, hearing Mr Bingley denounced so.

“On so short an acquaintance? I think it unlikely, Mrs Bennet, that they can be so sure of one another so soon. I would not concern yourself over what may turn out to be nothing more than a passing fancy.” he rationalised. I was surprised at how expertly he was handling my mother. They had seen little of one another for many months, given how withdrawn she had become, and before that, she had mortified and ruffled him constantly.

“There is no passing fancy in it, sir! Let me assure you. He has set his sights on Jane; high above where they ought to be; and he shall ask for her! I know how it will be. And Jane, you know, she is so good and obliging that shell accept him, not wishing to hurt his pleasant manners. Yes, she will, for she is such a good girl, that she doesn’t like to give offence to anybody. She is not like my Lizzy, she won’t need to be scolded and persuaded.” Mama rattled away, half unconscious of what she was saying. “How can you allow it? Jane, your own family would be settled so far below your station in life, only think of the shame.”

“You are perhaps right, a match between the pair would not be equal. But it should be to the advantage of both.”

“The advantage of both? I do not see how, sir.” She continued to make objections.

“Forgive the indelicacy, Mrs Bennet, but Jane may be a gentlewoman, but she has no fortune, you must admit. Mr Bingley has a fortune, but no true breeding.”

“Yes, no breeding, how can you allow it?” she cried out.

“I have it on the best authority, that Mr Bingley has one hundred thousand pounds with which he intends to purchase an estate. A match between Jane and him would be perfect. He could give her fortune and security, and in return, she would give him connections. Yes, I think it would make a very good match. But I do believe that you and I are both getting ahead of ourselves, are we not?” I had never seen him in such a diplomatic mood before.

I laughed, for earlier in the morning he had not appeared so certain of the acquaintance himself. Mama rounded on me, “And I do not know what you are laughing at, Miss Lizzy. I suppose this is all your doing though, first Mr Wickham, then that talk of the curate, and now this. Do you want to see your sister exposed to ridicule and gossip? Unfeeling girl!”

“Mrs Bennet, that is quite enough.” My husband interrupted her before I could speak for myself, “Elizabeth would only ever wish to see Jane happily settled. Now, I think we have had quite enough speculation for this evening.”

I did not pretend to understand my husband as he did I. It surprised me again that he would contentedly see Jane happily settled, but that his son must marry where he was told. But then, we Bennets were to be only a temporary blight on the Darcy family tree; we would never make any lasting affect – there would be no children, and no permanent damage. Darcy’s marriage to Miss Grimston was to set it all to rights again.

So, Jane had settled it in her mind that she should not encourage Mr Bingley any further. It would spare the feelings of three people. Her dear mother would not be injured by her choice. Mr Bingley’s feelings could be prevented from reaching any true heights of affection, and consequent disappointed hopes. And her heart could remain untouched. She was as selfless creature as ever there was, to spare all three, when two, at least, may have been incandescently happy.

Nothing is quite as easy as that though. I know, perhaps better than many, that you cannot decide against falling in love. Mr Bingley, enchanted by Jane, would not allow it, and her own gentle manners could not offend or discourage him. They were forever in one another’s company, and it seemed inevitable that the pair of them would fall in love. They were too well suited in disposition not to.

Sophie’s husband, Sir Edmond, returned to Derbyshire after an absence of many months. Town was too hot and dusty, and his other estate held none of its usual attractions for him; so he had returned to Sophie until a more agreeable situation presented itself. When Sophie and I had more privacy, she glumly informed me that his country mistress was great with child. Playing the part of the dutifully ignorant and good wife, she had arranged a party for the neighbours to welcome him back to the district.

The women of Derbyshire may have gossiped about Sophie’s inability to keep her elderly husband from straying, but they had no censure of him. He was, after all, a man. They and their families quite readily accepted the invitation; a party was a party, and Sir Edmond was an influential man.

On arrival, my companions quickly deserted me. Miss Grimston and her father and the Bingley siblings descended upon the four of us. Miss Grimston speedily drew Darcy away from Caroline, and Bingley and my sister began their own private conversation. My husband and Mr Grimston went to join a group of gentlemen. Caroline and I were left to ourselves. She quickly regaled me with some news she had received in a letter from her sister, Mrs Hurst of Grovesnor Street.

We were joined, for a brief period, by Sophie, who was flitting busily about the room like a butterfly dispensing her duties as hostess. “Where are the Nevilles this evening, Lady St Vincent?” Caroline asked her; she and Cynthia Neville appeared to be getting along tolerably well.

“They were unable to attend. Mrs Neville claims to be indisposed, and Mr Neville will not leave her side to attend.”

“I called on them a few days ago,” Miss Grimston stepped forward, my son-in-law was nowhere to be seen, “there was a cousin visiting. Mrs Neville seeks to secure him for Cynthia. Lady St Vincent, let me congratulate you on your splendid arrangements this evening, why we are almost a perfect party,” she said with a glance at Miss Bingley, “such a pity, that the Neville’s could not attend, I know you shall regret Miss Neville's absense, Miss Bingley.”

Jane, ever mindful of too much encouragement, and noticing our own conversation, came to join us, Mr Bingley following behind. It was not long before my son-in-law found his way back again, I suspect at the command of his father.

We had not been there long when Miss Grimston took charge of the company again. “Shall we not have some dancing?” she asked, to my astonishment. She always professed to have no fondness for balls. “Mr Bingley, you must partner Jane, she shall like that. Lady St Vincent, you could dance with Mr Conrad, Mrs Darcy… oh, let me think now, Mr John Bertrand? Yes, that is very well. Ah, Miss Bingley, we must find you a partner, but who will suit? James Ludlow? No. Captain Parkin? Oh, and there is Mr Morris, perfect.” And off she went to gather the men, who could do nothing but oblige her request.

She had not partnered herself in all this. Instead, she sat at the pianoforte to accompany the dancers. She turned to Darcy, “I do not require a page turner, sir, but you must bear me company.” He moved to stand next to the instrument, and I heard her whisper, “Is this not all done prettily? The others may enjoy their dance and you and I may avoid the exercise, all together.”

Quadrilles were danced, partners were swapped, skirts swirled, more and more young people joined the dance. In another room, cards were being played, I could smell the sickening smell of smoke, and hear the boisterous laughter of the men. The matrons sat at the side, murmuring comments about their daughters and predicating couples. Bingley asked Jane to dance again, while Miss Grimston continued to play; and Caroline found herself without a partner for two sets straight. Lady Conrad replaced Miss Grimston at the instrument after Lady Grimston intimated that she suspected her granddaughter and Mr Darcy would like to dance.

Sophie slipped away from the young dancers to join me, “I have been thinking, Elizabeth, that Jane and Diana would do well to take a leaf from the other’s book.” She looked first at Jane, who was dancing with Captain Parkin, and then at Miss Grimston, who had managed to keep Darcy tied to her for a second set. “Miss Grimston, I think, would have more fortune is securing young Mr Darcy if she were not so encouraging. I suspect he is too used to silly, cloying young girls to find anything attractive in it. Whereas Mr Bingley and Jane, why he is the one with all the enthusiasm for the match, and she offers him nothing more than she does Captain Parkin or Tom Morris, or any of the other young men she has danced with this night. She must help him on a little, modesty has its place, but not when securing her happiness.

“Jane and Bingley would make a very good match, you know. Everybody can see it but Jane herself. People will think she considers herself too good for him.”

“Sophie, dear, how can you say such a thing? They have met each other a little above half a dozen times. They cannot be sure of themselves, let alone the rest of us.”

“Perhaps you are right, but she ought not let him slip away before she can know him properly either.”

“Jane has not singled him out to me, I do not know that she holds him in any specific regard at all. Surely you cannot mean to suggest she encourages every new acquaintance she comes across? And as to Diana, the announcement may not have been made, but the marriage between them is as good as settled, she may act as she chooses.”

“If that were truly the case, Lizzy, then he would have declared. I can only imagine he is in love with somebody else, or hopes for a better opportunity.”

She and I had no further chance to speak, for Sir Edmond approached us, disturbing what little privacy she and I may have had. Her husband, old, fat and dull as he was, invited her to join him in a dance. I watched as he puffed and panted his way through a fifteen-minute dance, red faced and merry. Sophie, loyal as a puppy, smiled for him, and agreed with all his wheezy conversation; only occasionally did I see her eyes slip jealously over the other couples.

My husband and Mr Grimston came to stand with me, silently observing the efforts of their labours, occasionally mumbling something between themselves. Men’s talk, business, I could not, and was not expected to understand or concern myself with.

The evening was beginning to draw to a close. I could tell that Sir Edmond, though pleased with the proceedings of his honorary party, was eager to see his guests leave. Sophie, the lover of social gatherings – if not all the guests – did not anticipate the end of the party as much as he. The young people were sorry to see such enjoyable entertainment end so soon. Miss Grimston was bold enough to politely beg Sir Edmond’s patience, and allow another set, and how could he resist such a petition? Over all, Sophie’s party would have to be considered as a success.

It was early in the morning when the Darcy carriage pulled away from the front of Elm Manor. “A most triumphant evening.” My husband commented sleepily. “I do love to see young people enjoying themselves dancing. I have been thinking, we ought to give a ball at Pemberley.”

“A ball?” Fitzwilliam Darcy sounded utterly appalled by the concept.

“Yes, I was thinking earlier, next month is Elizabeth’s birthday. Should you not like it if we had a ball to celebrate the event?” He spoke to his son first, before turning to make his proposal to me.

“I suppose I might, sir.” I replied politely.

“But?”

“I would like for all my family to be there. It does not seem appropriate for twelve year-olds to attend a ball. May we not have something a little less formal. A picnic in the grounds perhaps, with just a few people and the girls?”

“A picnic? You could have anything you wish for, Elizabeth. Surely a picnic is not what you desire most? All that sitting on the grass does not appeal. It may rain, you know, August is a very wet month.”

“If it rains, we could eat in the solarium. Have you never had an indoor picnic before? There can be chairs if the ground is a little damp, for those who chose to sit in them. I do not wish for it to be a massive affair, just a few of my closer friends.” And Miss Grimston, I silently added to myself, I knew she would have to attend, “Besides,” I added to persuade him, “Miss Grimston has often told me how little taste she has for balls.” Then I turned to appeal to my husband’s son for clarification, “That is true, is it not?”

“Mrs Darcy,” he answered, “it is your party, you may arrange it as you wish.” It was not quite the answer I had hoped for, but it was enough to persuade my husband that a ball would not be favourable.

Chapter XVIII

Posted on December 7, 2008

The Conrads’ summer ball was deemed the social event of the year in Derbyshire. Even though the Conrads were not the first family in the district, receiving a coveted invite to their ball was considered to be the mark of acceptance within the county’s social circle. The Bingleys were not so fortunate as to receive an invitation that summer. The Conrads did not invite even retired tradesmen into their house.

Mama had all but demanded that I buy Jane a new gown for the occasion; she considered this opportunity too great to pass by – Jane could spend the whole evening being admired without the interference of that troublesome tradesman and his sister. Conveniently, she had forgotten her own brother’s profession.

I was happy to oblige the request, having already promised Jane one. She had been indisposed the day that Sophie and I had travelled to Lichfield to shop, and I had ordered but a few new dresses for her, none of which were appropriate for a ball.

My sister had always taken greater pleasure in shopping than me. The frocks of my youth had, more often than not, been made over from Jane’s. The dresses that were made for my coming out, the designs of Mama, and since my marriage, the careful choice of gowns had become a responsibility rather than a pleasure. Thus, I had never learnt the real pleasure derived from new clothes. But as we sat in the yellow sitting room, flipping through fashion plates, Jane evidently took less pleasure in the occupation than I. “Is there nothing to your liking?” I asked her carefully.

“They are all very beautiful, I am sure.” She skipped over a few pages, incuriously, as she replied.

“We could look another day?” I suggested gently.

“I could wear my pink silk,” she countered, with her usual gentle manner. “Or my cornflower blue muslin.” It was Jane’s way of telling me, as directly as was in her character, that she had no desire for a new gown at all.

I wondered if she felt uncomfortable, accepting yet more charity from me, from my husband. It would not be inconceivable. Mama and Lydia might have unquestioningly accepted any gift to come their way, Jane though, was more likely to feel some guilt, or concern that she was a burden. With her giving nature, she likely felt useless, that she offered nothing in return – she did not realise that for me, her company alone was enough. Placing my magazine aside, I said, “If you wish, then of course, you may wear whatever you prefer.” Lightening the tone, I added with a teasing smile, “Although, a sackcloth may be thought a tad inappropriate.”

The corners of Jane’s mouth lifted slightly, though she said nothing in reply.

I sighed, concerned for Jane, as she did not appear to be at all appeased or unburdened by my words. “Jane, you remember how when we were younger, I would tease you and tell you that it must be you to marry well, to secure the comforts of Mama and our sisters? You know that, firstly, I was not completely serious, and now, you may marry whoever you like. For love, as you have always desired. Were that not the case, if I were not married to Mr Darcy, imagine that perhaps you were, you would look after Mama and our sisters, and me, and it would give you pleasure, would it not, to see us all happy and safe? You would not want us to suffer in any conceivable way.

Concentrating on her hands, folded in her lap, she inclined her head slightly, agreeing with all that I had said. She twisted the turquoise ring on her middle finger uncomfortably.

Her apparent discomfort led me to suspect that this was not the root of her trouble. Not one to distrust the words of anybody, no matter how slight the acquaintance, she should have been soothed by what I had said. Instead she was still uncomfortably reflective. Jane was not inclined to reveal the most intimate of confidences, even at the best of times. No matter how close we might have been, there were feelings that she would never confess to, no matter how much I might probe for information. There were two resources left to me, I could try to ignore her troubles, or I could pry. “Are you disappointed that the Bingleys shall not be attendance at the Conrads’?”

“It is a shame that Caroline will not be there, I like her very much.”

“And Mr Bingley? I got the impression at Buxton and again at Elm Manor, that you enjoyed dancing with him.”

“He is certainly a very amiable partner.” She paused slightly before adding, “But I am sure there shall be plenty of other gentlemen in attendance, just as agreeable.”

“I heard a rumour from Sophie that the Nevilles’ cousin may be there; though they have not been out in society with him as yet.”

“Mama said as much.” Jane agreed dully, “Nancy and Martha heard it when they were in Lambton, at the butchers. He is very handsome and rich, they say.” She admitted in an even more depressed tone.

I began to see where her thoughts tended now. “I suppose Mama has determined you are destined to marry him now?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“Well, he might be the one to capture your heart, Jane.” I added encouragingly, however little credit I gave the possibility in truth. Besides, rumour had it that the cousin was destined for Cynthia Neville. How true that was would be anybody’s guess.

“Perhaps,” she replied, obviously more because she did not want to appear to disagree than anything.

“Jane? Do you think we should all make you wed where you have no inclination? Is that what you think we are attempting to do? Dressing you up and parading you around society?” She looked back down at her hands, guiltily. “Janey,” I gasped, suddenly guilty myself, “I just thought you would like a new gown.”

A servant announcing Lady and Miss Grimston interrupted Jane and me. They were invited warmly into the room, and as we sat waiting for refreshments, she, spotting the magazines, began to tell us about the gown she intended to wear for the ball, before inquiring what Jane was planning to wear to the occasion. “Oh your pink silk, the one you wore to the Neville’s little dance last week, was that the same as the one you wore at the Bertrams’ party? Well, it was very pretty, and the men did seem to admire you in it. I dare say they shall not object to you wearing it again.”

Talk of the ball naturally turned to news of the mysterious Neville cousin. Miss Grimston and her Grandmother were the only people so fortunate enough as to have seen the young man. Thus the superior, she informed us of her impressions of the young fellow. Mr Neville Middleton was of average height, not especially handsome, but certainly not plain either, had a modest fortune, enough to keep a family in comfort, had attended university and could, most importantly of all, call himself a gentleman. “Grandmamma and I shall be happy to introduce you. Shall we not, Grandmamma?”

That conversation was done away when Fitzwilliam Darcy arrived, and she attempted to engage him in a discussion on a newly published book she had recently completed reading. “I have yet to read it, but Mrs Darcy, I know, has been studying the volume.” He motioned his head towards me. Diana then turned her questions on me, briefly, before asking what he had been reading, a question, he could not avoid politely. She would have read it within the next fortnight, I wagered with myself.

Miss Grimston was determined to prove that she was exactly the woman, in both disposition and talent, most suited to Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. Her every look, action and word was arranged to prove it to him. She was determined to have him. Before our introduction, I had thought perhaps that at least an acquaintance between the two of us was the only thing lacking for the attachment to be formalised. What vanity I had! My opinion on that, as the months passed, changed dramatically. Darcy was the one who hindered the match.

Back in December, when they had first been introduced, Sophie had excitedly reported back to me that he had greatly admired Miss Grimston. His admiration had indisputably thrilled the young lady in question, and settled her mind on the matter of marriage. Pemberley was within her grasp. New to society or not, she was never in ignorance of such affairs as status and power, and from older friends and relatives, she knew what a rare occasion it was when the heir to Pemberley granted a woman more than a cursory glance. At dinner, they had been seated next to one another, after coffee she had asked him to turn pages for her while she sang. The meeting was considered by all present as an unmistakable sign of a future attachment between the pair.

My husband saw a possibility. He had never considered the majority of the local girls a prospect for his son. Some did not attend town, others were already connected to the Darcy family. Those families he considered a possibility, did not have daughters of either a marriageable age, or some other clever fellow had already snatched their daughters’ up. When Diana Grimston appeared, she presented a very fair prospect. Destined to inherit land of her own, which would significantly increase Pemberley’s holdings, and from her, a young branch of an old family, there could be very little to object to.

Having never heard any inkling of his son even tolerating the company of a marriageable girl before this point, and having some desire to ensure that he was well settled, my husband concluded that Diana Grimston was eminently suitable to be the mistress of Pemberley.

From thenceforward, the name Grimston had frequently passed my husband’s lips. The young Darcy had been sent to trail after the young lady, just weeks after her early departure to town. They had been acquainted only some three months by then. Miss Grimston had not even been to town, and nobody was anxious to see a match made immediately, though nobody doubted the inevitability of it.

My husband had been slightly troubled when there had been no formalised attachment declared at the close of the season. He was more so by August. He was forever raising the subject of Diana… and heirs. His son bore his demands with equanimity, but seemed disinclined to hurry a marriage.

For all his disinclination, I was certain that he would marry Diana one day. From everything that Sophie had told me of the winter socialising in the Derbyshire, and the season in town, after the first handful of meetings Darcy’s initial admiration of the pretty young Miss Grimston had faded as his acquaintance with her had increased. Nonetheless, it was what his father wished to see, a marriage between the pair, and it was a good match. In short, it was his duty to marry her, for the good of Pemberley and the Darcy name. He would marry her.

As to his delaying speaking to her on the matter, I concluded this: while materially the match would be of much benefit to them both, in character, they were ill-suited, however much she tried to convince him otherwise. That was not enough to deter my son-in-law. I knew him well enough to know that he felt there was nothing more important than duty, but he certainly had time. Miss Grimston had invested too much to admit defeat, and there was no immediate call for him to marry. No, he would put off marrying her as long as possible.

He was sensible enough to recognise that a union between the two of them would without doubt be miserable. But he was still fool enough to sacrifice his own happiness for the benefit of the family name, the family pride; just as his father had done before him.

Why did it have to be Miss Grimston? There were women enough in the world for the son to choose a girl whose temperament would suit him more. But the father had arrogantly decreed it was so, and the son would blindly and dutifully follow. I had always credited the younger Darcy more than this. Once, he had told me of the misery of his parents’ marriage, how they had all been affected by the discord. Now he was dooming himself and his children to the same fate, all because she was a good match, and it was what his father wished.

I supposed they thought their sacrifice noble. What errant nonsense! How could a father be so blind as to insist on what would only make his son miserable? Did he know his son so little as to believe that he and Miss Grimston would make a good match? Or did he truly think that Miss Grimston and his son were suited? Why did the son not speak up? Duty. With these Darcys, it always came back to duty.

Honestly, I did not know with whom I ought to be angrier.

The Grimstons had been calling well over an hour before Lady Grimston felt it necessary to remind Miss Grimston that they must leave and intrude no longer. Fitzwilliam Darcy, however, seemed inclined to linger, and after a few moments of awkward silence, he asked me, “Have you had any luck selecting gowns?”

“Jane is determined to wear her pink silk. The task has been abandoned, sir.” My answer was only half truthful, after Miss Grimston’s visit, I was more determined for Jane to have a new gown, to avoid more of her underhanded and snide comments. He remained only a little longer, while he finished his tea. Not wishing to distress Jane any further, for the moment, I chose not to raise the issue of the gown again. “Now, tell me what were Martha and Nancy doing at the butchers?”

It was Mama who eventually succeeded in persuading Jane to have a new gown made for the Conrads’ ball. She arrived at Pemberley with me the following day, exclaiming she would not see me treating Jane as a poor relation; it would disgrace the whole family if I did. Jane succumbed to her pressure, unable to tolerate the idea of having upset her mother as greatly as she had, or to have Mama think so ungenerously of me. A pretty blue gown with white trimmings was made up for her.

Considering the Conrads’ ball was such a selective affair, there was quite a crush in the ballroom, there were gentry from all about the county, and relatives of the Conrads’ had arrived from all over the country. Through all the crowds, Miss Grimston and her father were quick to locate us. Miss Grimston took young Darcy’s arm, “Oh, how glad I am you are all arrived. I was beginning to worry you might have met with some accident or another. Mr Conrad says the dancing is to start any second and he was teasing and teasing me to allow him the first set as he said you might never make it in time, Mr Darcy. But I told him, ‘no, a promise is a promise’ quite firmly.”

“It is pleasant to see a young lady so steadfast.” My husband said in reply. His son said nothing.

“And Jane, dear, I see you took my advice and had a new dress made up. It is quite pretty, I dare say.” She continued.

There was a brief lull, and I quickly filled the void, asking where Lady Grimston was, “Over there,” Miss Grimston indicated to the other side of the room, though her Grandmother could not be seen through the throngs of people, “she was comfortably settled, I thought it best not to disturb her.”

Mr Conrad, Miss Grimston’s admirer who had been pestering her for a set, came over, “I see you have arrived. What a pity for me, to be denied the opportunity of the first set with the most beautiful woman in the room.” he said stupidly.

“Never mind,” Miss Grimston hurried on, “you shall have a set later this evening. But look, here is Miss Bennet. I imagine she is not engaged, as she has just this minute arrived. Oh, but perhaps you are, Jane, my card has been filled for at least a week now, except for the supper set.” she sighed.

I saw my husband nudge his son. In unison, he and Mr Conrad spoke, “I would be happy if you would consent to dance that set with me, Miss Grimston.”

“Thank you, Mr Darcy.” she simpered, and failed to even acknowledge Mr Conrad’s request. I could not exactly blame her, for he seemed a pathetic sort of fellow. The music started up and the two couples made their way onto the dance floor. Suddenly my husband and I were left to ourselves again, and we had nothing to say to one another.

I hardly saw Jane again that evening, except for glimpses from across the ballroom. She was much engaged with her partners. Watching her, I reflected on my conversation with Sophie: Jane seemed just as happy as ever, with or without Mr Bingley’s presence. Surely, though, it was not a bad thing – that she was not made ridiculous to the eyes of the room for pining after him. What passed between them in Jane’s unguarded moments should be enough to convince him of her heart – if their acquaintance should ever reach that level.

I hoped, rather than knew, there might be an understanding, of sorts, reached before he returned to Oxford in October. I was well aware that should an engagement between the pair come to pass, that they could not marry instantly. Mr Bingley, only a year Jane’s senior, was too young for marriage; he was too unsettled in life. Money he may have, but a steady temperament was something he had yet to acquire. Nor did he have a home of his own to offer. Perhaps in the end, nothing should come of their attachment to one another, even if the whole of Derbyshire was talking of it.

Perhaps I was overly partial to Mr Bingley, myself. He was all ease and friendliness with everybody; there was no one who did not like him. One or two of the other young ladies would have been delighted to capture his attention, but none begrudged Jane that joy. How could I not like him and enjoy his company? He was an open book to read, a characteristic I was grateful for, as it seemed everybody in Derbyshire had an ulterior motive, but Mr Bingley; it was refreshing not to have to see a double meaning or concealed mean spiritedness. Since Mr Wickham’s vanishing, we had all lacked for any joyful acquaintance.

I passed Jane briefly at dinner; she appeared to be having a pleasant enough time. She told me briefly of her conversation with the much talked of Neville cousin, Mr Middleton. He was nothing extraordinary at all, after all. Mama would no doubt have been greatly disappointed by him, had she met him.

Later, I observed her speaking with Miss Grimston, who was all seriousness, while Jane’s response was calm and controlled. Whatever they were speaking of, Miss Grimston was certainly more troubled by it than Jane was.

My Dear Mrs Darcy,

I understand from Jane that she was much admired last night, and that she was never wanting for a partner, how excellent. I trust we shall see her married by Christmas at the latest, how wonderful it shall be to have not one, but two, daughters married. And well married at that. I was beginning to despair of you doing your duty to your sister Lizzy, but I trust any curious fancies of yours and your sisters may be completely done away with now.

As the weather seems to be intent on ruining us though, I do not think that you will be receiving many callers at Pemberley today, and since Jane is so tired out from all the dancing she partook of last evening, I have decided that it is for the best she remain with me for the day. She has seemed out of sorts these last few weeks, though I cannot think why. I believe it is best that she stay within Primrose Lodge today. If my suspicions about callers should prove to be incorrect, then by all means, send a carriage, and we shall have you sister there in minutes. All this rain! Whatever are we to do?

I must lay off now; my head is very bad today.

Mama

I sighed and folded the paper while Lydia revealed to the rest of the breakfast table said the contents of the note. Mama, I was certain, must have known of our plans to call at the Bingleys’ house, and had tidily seen to it that our plans would be diverted. Did she not see that she was making Jane miserable with all her schemes and plans? As if having me married to a rich, elderly widower had not been a triumph enough for her, now she had to see Jane equally unsuitably settled; all for her own comforts. Mama was motivated by her own greed; she did not seem to wish to see any of her own daughters happy. What could be wrong with a match between Jane and Mr Bingley, when my own husband had made no further objection to the match?

Of course, Jane had seemed out of sorts these past weeks. More often than not, she had seemed pensive and unhappy, not ill though. It was only momentarily in Mr Bingley’s presence that she would light up, and only then, until she remembered herself, or more particularly, our mother’s desires.

Had the situation been reversed – were we all still living at Longbourn, Mama would have welcomed Mr Bingley and his money, bought off trade, with open arms. His wealth would have been more than enough of a temptation. Indeed, I did not truly believe that she objected to its origins now; she simply believed that Jane was capable of making a truly outstanding match. I had once heard her say that since I had caught Mr Darcy, there was no reason on earth that Jane should not marry an earl, or even better, if Jane would only listen to her, and do as she commanded.

The following morning, with the weather cleared at least a little, Jane was permitted to return to my company. I had the carriage called after a brief meeting with Cook over the dinner menus, small amendments that she was most happy to make. As we were going out the door, my son-in-law bounded down the steps after us. “I have some business with Bingley.” he said by way of an explanation, helping Jane and I up into the carriage. He followed after us, and sat himself in the opposite seat. I looked at him curiously, the only time he sat in the carriage was calling on the Grimstons. “It might rain again.” He smiled and Jane murmured a sympathetic agreement.

Miss Bingley, and her aunt, greeted us warmly as we entered. Darcy sat, I assumed to pay his respects before meeting with Mr Bingley, but even when Bingley entered, he seemed disinclined to discuss business with him. Bingley saved a brief, but enthusiastic greeting for his friend Darcy before monopolising Jane’s company on another sofa, leaving Caroline and her aunt to amuse Darcy and myself.

Miss Bingley’s attentions to Darcy had decreased, in public at least, now that she was more familiar with society. It surprised me, already she was determined that he would be the man she would marry. Indeed, I believe that seeing Pemberley had only served to cement more firmly the foundations that had begun the night of the Buxton Assembly.

It did not take long for her to realise her mistake, but it was too late, and the damage was already done. She had, on the occasion she had been in society, been snubbed and belittled, to such an extent you may have been excused for assuming she was a leper. In contrast to that, her brother, with his warm and friendly manners, had been welcomed, after some brief hesitation far more freely, even if he was still thought undeserving of the Conrads’ Ball. I suspected invitations, mostly from Sophie and myself, might have been more forthcoming, were it not for the designs of his ambitious sister.

When they were in society, Mr Bingley was warmly approved (perhaps for his admiration of my sisters), whereas Caroline was ignored almost universally. I suspected it was because she was deemed to be an ambitious and pretentious upstart with schemes to marry where she had not the rights of birth and he was neither free to chose her, nor inclined to do so. Even with a decrease of attention to the younger Darcy, and her many efforts at civility towards Diana, her fate was already decided.

Every other girl innately knew Fitzwilliam Darcy was the rightful property of Miss Grimston, a fact which nobody but Caroline had dared to challenge. Unfortunately, her initial foolhardy behaviour only proved her to be more of an outsider to good company, than anything else might have done. Who was the first to voice their scorn, I know not. But every other woman, and indeed man, knew the power that Diana Grimston commanded, and but few seemed inclined to oppose her rise in any way. For daring to challenge the social order, however, they were willing to oppose Miss Caroline Bingley. I was not sure how much longer the poor girl would stay afloat; only her brother kept her buoyed.

Despite all her ambition, Caroline had no malice in her. I hoped that in town she might be more successful than in Derbyshire. Perhaps this next season, there would be a new celebrated beauty, and the Grimston faction would not be so successful in their alienation of Miss Bingley as they had been in Derbyshire. I hoped it could be the case. I thought that in town, she might meet some man who would make her forget her infatuation with Darcy. There would be many handsome men of wealth there. I did not for a moment believe that she did not think herself to be in love with Darcy. If she felt anything for him at all, it was more like the fascination of an ignorant schoolgirl. If London should be kind to her, I did not doubt some other man who showed her attention would capture her heart. Who knew, she might even fall in love, if she could only begin to make footholds in the society she wished to be a part of.

She was a little misguided, I knew that; she, too, was acting as her father had bid her. The son, he wished to see a gentleman with an estate, the two daughters he wanted to see married to gentlemen. She could be as amiable as her brother, who appeared to be making inroads to happiness; I did not doubt that Caroline would wish for such a fortunate path as well. Derbyshire simply had not opened a wide enough acquaintance to her.

Caroline, when all was said and done, was astute. She knew the mistake she had made, and she sought to rectify it. One day she would be absolved for her sin, but she was not prepared to surrender her cause so easily; she still wished to marry my son-in-law. So in more limited company, she continued to shower him with attentions, and he continued to glare with discomfort and disapproval.

I was sure that while Caroline’s brother might have been good enough for my sister, she would never be good enough for him, a true Darcy of Pemberley.

Arrogant, proud man! Could he not at least behave himself, if he had to come and call?

With her aunt called away on business, and Miss Bingley absorbed in the task of serving refreshments, I leaned over to him. “It was your decision to call today, you ought to have known it would mislead poor Miss Bingley. Stop scowling and speak with her aunt, when she returns, instead.”

“Miss Bingley would not be misled, if you had not had me dance with her at the assembly.” he answered me with a smile.

“I hope that does not mean you shall never follow my advice in the future, sir. I like to think I have at least a little wisdom.”

“No indeed. But, Mrs Darcy, I believe I can safely promise you never to dance with an unknown lady at a ball ever again.”

My only response was to laugh, capturing Caroline’s attention as she delivered Jane’s tea. Jane, startled by the proximity of Caroline’s voice, straightened slightly and looked around in confusion before focusing on the window and exclaiming, “Look, Lizzy, the rain has begun again.” And as if that were some excuse, she stood up and walked over to take a closer look. “Goodness, it is quite a downpour. It looks as if it may flood.”

I raised an eyebrow. Jane had never been so dramatic in her life. “We must apologise for choosing to call at such an irrational moment, I am afraid.” I began, before Miss Bingley cut in again.

“Oh no, Mrs Darcy, Mr Darcy, my dear Jane, you are very, very welcome to stay here, if need be. Let me assure you, you could never be an imposition to us.”

“I hope you shall not have cause to repent your words, Miss Bingley. You may find that we long outstay our welcome. By Sunday night, you are sure to wish us gone.” I turned to my travelling companion with a smile, “I have never seen a more awful object than Mr Darcy on a Sunday night.”

“Nonsense!” cried Caroline, missing the point of my teasing.

“Miss Bennet is right, it is quite torrential.” Mr Bingley added, standing next to Jane at the window. Nobody else appeared to deem the weather worthy of such attention, but he.

“Perhaps it may pass.” Jane stated, as she moved to sit next to me.

Within half an hour, we were on our way again. As we were sitting in the carriage, it suddenly occurred to me; Fitzwilliam Darcy had never spoken to Mr Bingley of the business for which he went there. Mr Bingley and he had spoken between themselves for the latter half of our call, but it was most decidedly not of business; they were making plans for the first of September, arranging a hunting party at Pemberley.

Chapter XIX

Posted on February 26, 2009

"Has not Diana arranged everything charmingly?" Lady Grimston began. It was one of the very few occasions I ever heard her venture at conversation without her opinion being called for. She was seated at one of the handful of chairs that had been arranged on Pemberley's lawn, and appeared very much as though she was holding court.

"And my Jane too." Mama, who was seated on a blanket with Lydia, Kitty, Georgiana and Anna the nursemaid, added. She would not for a moment let any of the assembled guests forget that it was her eldest, unwed daughter who had first been granted the task of organising the picnic. Thus far she had remained mostly silent, too overawed by the selection of splendid guests to offer much beyond her deference to them. I knew though, that in this matter, a competition between children, she would never be capable of holding her tongue; particularly not when it came to bettering the Grimston girl.

"They both show great devotion to Mrs Darcy." Colonel Montrose's wife interrupted peaceably. A young mother of six robust children – four of whom were present today, she was as well versed in the art of diplomacy as the petty rivalries of mothers.

"Indeed, but Jane has adored her sister, Mrs Darcy, since she was born. She was quite downcast when Mrs Darcy first went away and was married, but I said to her, I said, Jane, you must not concern yourself, Lizzy has made a good match, and now so will you too."

"She and young Mr Bingley seem well pleased with one another." Mrs Montrose chattered away, gliding with easy grace over my mother's statements. I had never seen Mrs Montrose in a more amiable light, than with all her children surrounding her. I saw Lady Conrad and Lady Cecelia exchange a smirk though.

Mama sniffed, "I hardly think…" she began before trailing off.

"Oh!" Lady Cecelia gasped, "I think young Bingley is a very worthy man, and quite a fortune he has too. To be sure, it is a pity about the sister, but every family has their unfortunate relations."

I had grown used to this form of conversation as the summer months had passed by. Society's matrons had but two topics of conversation: the merits of their children compared with others', and the possibilities of a wedding. I had grown quite tired of it all. Sophie excused herself, wandering off, her little pug trotting along besides her. Talk of children had a habit of upsetting her; of late she had been but more sensitive towards the topic.

Seemingly Mama revelled in it all though. It was as if a beast within her was being fed by the gossip, and would only become hungry for more. Indeed, after the picnic, she threw off her mourning entirely, regardless of the additional year she would miss almost entirely, and re-entered society only a little more subdued than she had been before my father's death.

"But Mr Bingley is very young yet, I cannot imagine Miss Bennet is a serious prospect for him." Mrs Neville interjected. "Now Middleton and my Cynthia, there is an excellent match." Mrs Neville, who had finally succeeded in matching her daughter with somebody, now found every opportunity to expound upon it.

"Yes, your Cynthia certainly put some serious thought into marriage." Lady Cecelia said with a knowing smirk in Lady Conrad's direction.

"Diana is a very thoughtful and intelligent child. I could never find fault in any choice of hers." Lady Grimston said with satisfaction, once more reverting the chatter back to her granddaughter. She addressed me with an uncharacteristic smile, a smile that seemed to convey some intimate knowledge between the pair of us.

I smiled back at Lady Grimston and said sweetly, "As long as her choices leave her happy, then surely you could never have cause to repent."

As Mama began some soliloquy or another on Jane and her suitors, I began to think more seriously on the matter of marriage. It rather amazed me that all the women present appeared to believe that a good match would lead to long term happiness. All of them had found their marriages lacking in some way or another. Mrs Montrose had found none of the adventure she had hoped for in her marriage to a red-coat. Lady Conrad and her husband barely tolerated one another's company. My mother and father had been so opposite that neither could ever sympathise with the other. Lady Cecelia's marriage had admittedly been a step down; desperate to escape some family scandal or another, she had trapped herself into a loveless marriage instead. Yet here they all were, encouraging their children to take the same path.

Lady Grimston could not possibly believe that her granddaughter, who she was much attached to, could really end her days happily as the wife of Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, could she? She could hardly have failed to notice the changes to Diana's demeanour as she tried her hardest to please Darcy. Gone was the bright and wilful girl who everybody admired for her daring and cleverness; instead, in her place, was a subservient mouse who bowed to her superior, and was but a shadow of her true self. Who could wish for their own flesh and blood to spend a lifetime acting out a part?

Not for the first time, I wondered how long Diana would be able to continue in deference to Darcy. It was so uncharacteristic of her, a girl who wielded so much power and influence within the ton – whether she meant to or not; there surely had to come a time when she would be unable to continue in her unswerving devotion to his thoughts and opinions. Did she intend to play this out until the marriage was irrevocably secured? Or would she try to keep him happy for good? I could not think that would be the case. No, I suspected as soon she could, the fawning would give way to challenging.

I did not know that either of them would ever succeed in being happy then.

But for all her scheming, Mama seemed less calculating than the other matrons present. In fact, as the day wore on, she became more tolerant towards Bingley; swayed by the approving words of the wealthy and connected women who apparently accepted his manners, and even tolerated his state, and by Bingley himself. He had met with Mama nervously, and she was only a little more than civil to him, a fact which only unnerved him more. It was pure fortune that he was on hand to rescue a pin from her new gown and refill her plate after the littlest Montrose girl ran into her; Bingley gallantly picked up the child too. She discovered that his amiability was utterly irresistible, and was in love with him herself within minutes. "What a dear! What a treasure!" she would later repeat to Jane and myself.

A bark of laughter, recalled me to my surroundings. Looking over, I saw Bingley and Darcy, and some other young men, laughing heartily over a misaimed ball, thrown by one or the other of them. They had been attempting to teach young Edward Montrose and Lady Conrad's only grandson to play Bowl Toss. Edward was chasing gleefully after it. I could only presume that from the conciliatory set of Miss Grimston's face as she spoke, the ball had been Darcy's. When Edward returned with the ball, he threw it again and it landed skilfully in the centre of the hoop.

Bingley turned to Jane, who had been standing with Miss Grimston, and addressed Jane with a smile, offering a ball to her. I watched as she looked down at her feet and her head shook, just slightly. Bingley shrugged, shoulders sagging, and threw the ball for himself; it bounced out of the hoop. Lady Conrad's grandson took his turn, the ball missed the hoop by miles, and the little boy stomped his foot; had I been closer, I would no doubt have seen tears in his eye. Jane bent down to soothe the oncoming tantrum, and after a few moments, I saw the boy nodding, still half sullen, from the crook of her arms; straightening herself, she lightly pressed him towards Darcy who stooped down to the boy's level and guided the child's aim. Once the ball met its mark, he was all smiles again.

I glanced around at the other guests. They were far more in number than I had wished for, but Miss Grimston was adamant. "The Conrads" and the other more prominent local families, "simply could not be ignored." And my husband had agreed with her concerns. I had not thought they would enjoy it, but they certainly all seemed well pleased enough; most especially Mama. It had been far too long since she had the pleasure of socialising with those who had similar interests to her, and while for the most part she had not appeared to regret the loss of society, it had been evident she missed being merely a short journey away from our Aunt Phillips. For months she had instead been left to hear from her two maids, or on occasion from Jane or myself.

But here, with the great gossiping matrons, she could hear what Jane and I would never have told her: how Mrs Morris was still wearing the same evening gown she had had five years ago, and it certainly needed replacing; or the rumour that General Parkin was going to take a wife, again, though nobody knew for certain who the bride would be. Likewise, she could find some pretend sympathy for the martial situation of her children. Mrs Neville had all the bragging rights; Lady Cecelia's youngest had been recently crossed in love; and Lady Conrad was fussing over the niece who was to be placed in her charge for the next season. And all the while, they would smile at Mrs Montrose and say, "Just wait, my dear, you have all this to come still." While Mama confessed her concerns for Mr Bingley – they could all empathise with her situation, though none of them seemed to understand Mama's disapproval of Mr Bingley. More so because they did not wish to encourage her grand plans than anything else.

More than once, I witnessed smirks passing between them at my mother's thoughtless speeches, yet they were really no better themselves. "What say you to Lizzy's necklace?" Mama began. Unable to hear another round of her enthusiasm, I quickly dropped a curtsey and went to join Sophie, Miss Bingley and Miss Neville.

Sophie and Miss Bingley were eagerly dissecting information from Cynthia Neville on her forthcoming nuptials and her new home. Miss Neville, I noticed, though proud of her new state, was not so eager as either Sophie or Miss Bingley. No, her happiness came more from the superiority of being engaged to somebody, after five long years of worry, than happiness over her choice of groom. Oh, she was fond of her cousin Middleton; that much was certain, but the primary source of her happiness came from the knowledge that she may no longer be a concern to Mrs Neville, and that she did not have to face the prospect of yet another season in town, unengaged. What was more, it seemed that she enjoyed the newfound awe the other young ladies displayed in her presence. They were young, and all wished to hear what it was like, being engaged to be married; it was a topic that even Miss Grimston could not espouse on with any experience. Miss Neville was relieved.

Miss Bingley had just begun to inform us, in exacting details, of her own future wedding, though she was, of course, cautious enough not to mention any designs for her groom, when Miss Grimston appeared at our sides, with Jane. "We have grown tired of watching the men at their sport." she informed us, gracefully lowering herself to the ground. "Miss Neville, have I congratulated you yet? I hear you have succeeded in avoiding another tedious season in town. How happy you must be. I must confess I am surprised, your mother has always said you have been most cautious in your choices, but your courtship with Mr Middleton has been one of the quickest I have seen. When do you plan to be wed?"

"February, Miss Grimston."

"Oh! A long engagement! How clever of you. Myself, I have always thought it best to know as much as possible about one's chosen partner; I was just telling Miss Bennet so, was I not Jane? Now you and he shall have six whole months to become better acquainted."

I saw what Miss Grimston was about. I knew she was concerned that she was still single, that Darcy still had not spoken up and made her his yet. She sought to console herself, and convince herself that this drawn out affair between Darcy and herself was the very best cause of action and would, in the long run, make her happier still when she achieved her goal. Matches were made in seasons, months, weeks; eight months was a long time, and she was impatient. Her attempts to please were becoming more desperate and less discreet.

It was something more than that too. I had watched, as the young ladies had gathered about Miss Neville to make their congratulations. Miss Grimston stood to the side, speaking with the men, and all the while, she watched from the corner of her eye. Miss Grimston was jealous. For the first time, since at least her coming out, she was not the envy of every other woman in company; she was no better than any of the other young women present, she was still unengaged. How she hated that, to have been cast aside, when she was accustomed to reverence from the other young ladies. It made her feel, for the first time, insignificant. And perhaps even a little alone.

For myself, I pondered her words. That it was best to know as much as possible about one's partner. It was quite the contrary of what a friend of mine had once said. Darcy certainly knew a great deal of her character, her accomplishments, her family and her defects. I knew this had lessened his initial admiration of her, but that they would still marry. Knowing this, but still being determined to marry would never make either happier or unhappier. I supposed though, walking blindly into a marriage could lead to the greatest disappointment, whether you were in love or not.

"As cousins, they can only become dearer." I reminded her.

Miss Grimston did not appear completely satisfied by this, and seemed to feel a change of tact was in order. "I must say, Mrs Darcy, I cannot help but admire your necklace." Miss Grimston indicated the diamonds clustered around my throat.

"My father gave it to her. They are some of the Darcy jewels." Georgiana, who had suddenly appeared with Lydia and Kitty, began before I had chance to reply, "Mostly they belong to Fitzwilliam now, to give to his wife, but he gave some back to Papa, because they ought to belong to Mrs Darcy." Georgiana continued with not some little triumph.

"How thoughtful." Miss Grimston replied quietly. Her displeasure revealed by the shortness of her speech.

"Lizzy, let me try it on." Lydia begged; Kitty joined her pleas.

"Maybe later." I soothed.

Of late, Georgiana had been a lot more tolerant towards my position as her father's wife. After nearly two years of marriage, she must have felt herself more secure in her father's affections than before. After all, she was not spoilt any less than before, she still found herself treated as the pet of the whole household. Whenever he was called away on business, he returned with presents; he continued to take his breakfast with her; and she spent the evening with us whenever we dined alone. She was paid far more attention by her father than many other girls her age; perhaps it was the absence of her mother.

But she had become less demanding. The presence of my sisters in her life had done much to amend her self-centred ways. The constant company of children her own age did her good. It had been a problem at first, one, which I think, was not exactly aided by Lydia's demanding personality; Georgiana had struggled with not just sharing her belongings but also her lessons, becoming more conscious of her superiority.

Lydia, you see, would not allow Georgiana to take the upper hand for any great period. My youngest sister was too used to being pampered by our mother. After an initial bout of obvious jealous, petty arguments and even a few unladylike fights, Lydia had taken it upon herself to lead Georgiana to believe that she did not care three straws for either Georgiana or her enchanted life. Georgiana thus found herself ignored assiduously by Lydia, and consequently Kitty; Mary was too busy with her books for such childish nonsense. My two youngest sisters' pointed shunning had humbled her. Georgiana Darcy was not a girl used to being inconsequential.

How a friendship between the three eventually came about, I never knew. Mrs Robinson, the governess, had almost reached the end of her tether with them. But suddenly, as if out of pure perversity, the three were as inseparable as the very best of sisters. It was a relief to see them getting along together. At least some of the Darcys and Bennets were not completely incompatible.

Their friendship had been beneficial to all three of them. Georgiana needed to socialise with girls her own age. She was naturally shy; my loud and rambunctious sisters who chattered and chattered away taught her the joys and ease of simple conversation and pleasantries. Kitty had set about imitating Georgiana's elegancy as eagerly as she had followed Lydia's wild ways; she was pliable by nature, a result of parental indifference, I think. By Georgiana, Kitty was calmed. As to Lydia, she could not bear to be outdone for long, and amazingly, she applied herself to her lessons. It was just unfortunate that Mary, perhaps a little too old for the three of them, had gained little of the advantages of the other three.

That is not to say Georgiana was greatly improved in her affection towards myself. It was still apparent that she was cautious of me, and would never forgive me completely for my suspicious marriage to her father, but her outright hostility had ceased. She would never snuggle up to my side as she did Jane, or kiss my cheek as she did with Anna, her nursemaid, but we had learnt to live with one another without the vicious attacks. At the very least, I was held higher in her esteem than Miss Grimston.

The rest of the day was passed off pleasantly enough. The gentlemen, who had begun playing a typically competitive game of cricket once the little boys had tired of Bowl Toss, were eventually compelled by Lydia to permit her, Kitty and Georgiana to join in. Bingley, especially, had been incapable of seeing them disappointed, whether they were young bothersome girls or not. Soon, as if the Piped Piper himself called them, a small band of children followed, and then Jane and I were persuaded to play too. Surprisingly, some of the other young ladies were tempted to join us, though it was apparent their mothers were not best pleased. With our vast numbers, one of the Bertrand brothers proposed a change of sport, and a game of rounders was begun instead.

Only three of the younger members did not join us. Mary loitered with her book, determined not to be coaxed until Mama snapped her into action. Where other mothers may have been pleased by Mary's choice to distance herself from the good-natured skirmish, Mama vocalised her terror that Mary would be labelled a bluestocking if she held herself so above the other girls.

Miss Grimston had been quick to express concern over the suitability of such occupations. It was ungentle, her gown might be spoilt – I was incapable of divining why that should matter, she never wore the same gown more than once anyway, as far as I could tell – and finally, she drew herself up still straighter as she announced this, she was responsible for the party, she could not be so mindless. She was left to sit out sullenly on the sidelines as each of her once devoted followers deserted her and followed Miss Neville instead. Only the oldest of Mrs Montrose's daughters had remained with her. The young fourteen year-old, being utterly awed by Miss Grimston's general elegance and fashion, assiduously imitated her the whole day. Miss Grimston, in her displeasure over either the dispersion of her following, or as events were not occurring as she planned, had failed to notice the young girl's worship.

My attention was mostly engaged by our game. Whether it was appropriate or not, it would be enjoyable. Some of the more pleasant moments of the summer had been outside, here on the lawn at Pemberley. The whole family would gather on quiet, balmy days playing games; my husband would watch, and occasionally Mama would keep him company. Happy and laughing, we enjoyed rare moments of shared contentment, the likes of which we had never experienced before. For whatever reason, it had been in good-natured competition that we had all come together peacefully, made up of cheerful bickering, almost like that of siblings.

Only Fitzwilliam Darcy and I had been a little too competitive in our sport. But then, he and I had never been inclined to let one another off lightly. When it came my turn to bat, the ball knocked wide, I easily made my way around four posts, and just as I was to reach the forth and score a rounder, the ball whooshed over my head. Darcy, standing at fourth, caught it easily and touching the post called "out" at the same moment that my own bat reached out and tapped the post. Both teams had cheered, nobody knew to whom the point belonged. "Out. That was out." he argued, face inscrutable.

"No, I beat you." I argued back, like a child.

"Nonsense, I caught you out." I scowled slightly; he never did like to be bested.

"No, I got there first."

"Any fool can see, I called out first." he replied with an uncharacteristic smile that negated any criticism in his words.

"Now, Darcy," Bingley entered into the foray, "let the lady have her point."

"You would do well to listen to your friend, sir. Mr Bingley dislikes an argument. Be gentlemanly and concede to us both."

But he would not be moved. Bingley called on my husband, who had been watching the game, to pass his judgement. When I was declared the victor though, I found myself mildly disappointed that Darcy would not admit that I had been right.

It was not long after this, that Miss Grimston called an end to our merriments by leading out a procession of Mrs Reynolds, followed by two footmen bearing a huge fruit cake, with a circle of candles blazing on the top, accompanied by the extravagant string quartet she had insisted on hiring; neither Darcy nor Jane had the heart to challenge her over it. "I did not like to disturb you, Jane." She smiled, "I can manage quite well without you; Mrs Reynolds was most helpful." She nodded at the housekeeper, who looked down, smoothing out the front of her dress. "Now come, Mrs Darcy, and make a wish."

The candles were blown out my first attempt, and while I made my wish, pieces were handed out around the guests. They settled down to eat quietly. The girls laughed heartily over the spider trinket that Georgiana had found in her slice; even Georgiana was laughing the omen off without concern.

Later in the afternoon, the games long over, I noticed Miss Grimston was still not herself. I approached Sophie and mentioned it to her. "I think she found a thimble in the cake." she replied with a giggle. As we had all eaten the cake, we had laughed over the trinkets we had discovered within. Mama had found a ring, which she had tried to slyly slip into Jane's cake. The littlest Montrose girl was soon to come into a fortune, for she found a silver penny. Nobody laid claim to the thimble, we had all guessed, of course, yet none had discovered the truth.

"I thought the cake was all her idea." I asked, remembering how Lady Grimston had been quick to tell the assembled guests of her grandchild's cleverness.

It was not long after this that the party began to dissipate, the guests returning home, and the servants clearing away. The Grimstons were surprisingly amongst the first to leave; Miss Grimston seemingly very subdued, she only rallied a little when I thanked her for her help in planning with Jane, and Darcy added, after a brief hesitation, that she had done admirably well.

I shall risk sentimentality by saying the picnic of Pemberley sent off the summer. Within the week, it was all over. Husbands left the warmth and comforts of their homes during the day, in favour of the excitement of the sports fields. For his part, my own husband was no different. Once more, he journeyed across the country to visit with his friend, leaving Pemberley in the charge of his son and myself for a month or so. He could not say for sure when he would return.

It did not come as such a surprise to me, as it had the previous year. Nor was I filled with apprehension at the prospect of being left with his two children. We had survived the ordeal perfectly well the year before, and this year Georgiana did not cry at the unfairness of being left "with her" for her care. Instead, she waved him off with apparent cheer the morning he left for his old school companion's estate. Though she was, I noticed, a little cast down to see him go, she knew that her father's going would bring its own pleasures, a string of happy evenings spent in the drawing room with my sisters, as opposed to relegation to a lonely nursery, rolled out before her.

The girls spent the days about their lessons with Mrs Robinson, or occasionally under the tutorship of Jane and me, instructing them in embroidery, or even household matters if I was particularly busy. One day we took them over to Kympton to help the curate, Mr Thursfield, decorate the church for harvest. I even took Georgiana and Mary out on tenants' calls one morning while Kitty and Lydia were about their music lesson. The racket they made in their efforts to learn, it was necessary to be out the house.

The brother was out almost daily. If he wasn't seeing to estate matters, then Bingley joined him, and together the pair of them would be out shooting all day. They would return in the evening, Bingley at least, full of tales of their sport, to dine with Jane and myself. Occasionally Miss Bingley would travel over in the morning with him, and spend the day with us. We were a merry party, well mostly. I do not think Darcy was ever of an especially mirthful disposition, and he appeared to find Caroline's thickly laid on compliments too much to tolerate.

Mama was now present fairly often on these evenings, though she tended to remain silent in the corner, and not an active participant to our revelry. She was more subdued than she used to be, allowing her daughters to quietly make their own progress in life.

Mama, for all her ambition, was wise enough to recognise that a bird in the hand was worth two in the nest. Having finally realised that all her attempts to bring Jane and my son-in-law together had ended in naught, she renewed her attentions towards Mr Bingley. He was not her favourite choice of marital partner for Jane, her most beautiful child, but the real possibility of a husband – landless, badly connected or otherwise – promoted him sufficiently in her estimation for all her prior reservations to be forgot.

For my own part, I must confess to regretting my husband's absence. While our family may have become more comfortable with one another as time had progressed, I still felt that I had not made significant ground with Georgiana and her brother. To be sure, Georgiana was more tolerant of me, less insubordinate than before; but I still could not help but feel the effects of her silence and lack of warmth towards me; it had become more of a silent resentment. Our relationship may have progressed, but there was still no warmth in it.

As to Darcy, I felt certain that he and I would never see eye to eye, but I was beginning to understand how difficult it must have been for him to accept me, a mere child as I had been on my arrival, as his father's wife. I had often found myself wondering where exactly the two of us were expected to stand with one another. His eight-year seniority over me made everything just so much more awkward than it might have been. Then again, I always had the feeling that he never made the effort with me. Suspicious, curious, however he may have felt, I do not think he was ever capable of putting those feelings aside.

It was during this period, I began to notice his complete indifference to Miss Grimston; the first time I had an inclination of his truest feelings of distaste towards her. I began to realise that he would much rather not marry her, and that all their supposed intimacy was forwarded by his father and her. For a while, I had pondered upon this, but with my husband gone from Pemberley, it became painfully obvious. Darcy truly disliked Miss Grimston.

About a week after my husband's departure, I was making a solitary call on the Grimstons. Knowing what was necessary, I sought out Darcy, eventually locating him in the library. He was hunched over a book, giving it a great deal of attention, not even rising when I entered. I gave a little cough, but his attention was still held by the book, the same lack of response came when I called his name. I took a step towards him. It was not until my shadow fell across the page that he looked up guiltily, utterly startled by me. "Dorinda's Sparkling Wit and Eyes¹, poetry." I screwed up my face, "Come sir, this will never do, you must accompany me, I am calling on the Grimstons."

I watched him swallow, "I cannot today, for I am much engaged."

"In reading poetry?" I laughed at his weak excuse, really I could not blame him. "You and I have discussed my views on poetry before, you must put the volume away this moment."

"Yes, I recall your words vividly. However, Mrs Darcy, the last time I followed your advice was at the assembly. You must forgive me if I am not so willing to do as you bid me again."

I bristled at his tone. "If you are unwilling to call on the Grimstons, then might I at least propose a change of reading matter?" I walked across the room and picked up a gift that had come from him and Georgiana. "I have finished with this now, and I suspect you might find some of it worthy of your interest." I left History of the Anglo-Saxons² resting on the arm of the chair.

"I shall certainly give it some attention then." he replied formally.

"Mr Turner has some intriguing views on women and their right to honour, consequence and independence. Though I am certain some might disregard his opinions entirely, you might learn something from him." Turning, I left the room to do as my husband bid me.

Miss Grimston was greatly disappointed by the absence of her favourite, of course. I informed her that he was much engaged, and she smiled and began to exalt on his ability and dedication to running Pemberley in his father's absence. Peculiarly, this idea appeared to please her greatly. She remained as polite and talkative as ever, and as I left, she bade me to give her best wishes to Darcy… and Jane.

The next time Jane, Mama and I made a call on the Grimstons, we were accompanied by Darcy. We were hastily invited to dine with them, for an intimate meal the following evening. Mr Grimston, alone with Darcy, must have had some words with him over his extended courtship of his dearest, only child, for Darcy was in quite a black humour, more so than usual, when the two gentlemen reappeared. Miss Grimston seemed to notice none of this though, as she engaged him in a conversation about Crabb Robinson's latest report from Spain.

As the month passed, I heard twice from my husband, bringing me some news of his hunting party, cautiously worded, and reporting very little of his time. He made some vague suggestion of us all making a visit to the coast when he returned. His son heard more of the party, I suspected, and for several days, he walked around looking concerned. When asked though, he denied any additional knowledge.

Mama, now that she had been converted, was ever eager for some decision to be reached between Jane and Bingley, taking every opportunity to throw them together; no mean feat, when she had to rid a room of not just myself, but more often than not, my son-in-law too. She huffed and fumed that Darcy occupied too much of Bingley's time, but she was most happy to find a co-conspirator in Miss Bingley, as eager as any for some understanding to be arranged between the pair of them.

Bingley was due to return to Oxford in October, and Mama could not bear to see Jane having wasted months of her emotions on him only for nothing to come of it all. Mama might well have been reconciled to Bingley, especially seeing Jane so happy now that she had approved the man; but she was still not entirely happy about the match, no matter what the other women in the area may have said to her of him. My mother would be severely distressed to see her Jane cast aside a mere toy. Jane would have spent all her energy on him when there were still other, much more worthy candidates, to be found in the district. She had been somewhat taken with Mr Conrad.

As the days passed and nothing was heard, she became slowly more and more frustrated.

It would certainly be a shame to see nothing come of the pairing. I could admit that too, and it would be an extreme disappointment to Jane. Nor did it seem impossible that something might be agreed between the pair of them, not marriage yet, but an agreement of sorts of either courtship or even a long engagement. Bingley, after all, was by all appearances utterly devoted to my sister. The idea seemed pleasing to both families. I simply could not see that it was an impossibility.

"Well Jane, has he asked you yet?" Miss Grimston asked immediately on arrival one morning, not even bothering with the usual pleasantries. No doubt she wanted the honour of being the very first to hear the news, and to carry it about the neighbourhood.

"He has not." Mama began quickly, "I do not know what he is about; it is most inconsiderate of him. Jane has got herself worked into quite a state of nerves over it. If he does not ask her, then he is a most unworthy young man, and I shall be quite put out. I hope, Miss Grimston, that if he does not, you won't invite either him or his sister to any dinners or parties you give in the future."

"I shall agree quite willingly, Mrs Bennet." Miss Grimston agreed solemnly. "Why, if he has led our dear Jane on, then he is quite a rascal, and I would not be happy to see such a young man in my house at all, for it shall only prove that he is after a woman of fortune." She paused for a second, "How fortunate that you need never concern yourself with such a likelihood."

"Yes, incredibly." I replied dryly. Mama began a long-winded ramble on the troubles of her girls being dowerless. Miss Grimston glazed over, while her grandmother paid close attention to all that was said by my mother.

Jane, for her part, acted politely uninterested in the matter, and discussed it not at all, making a total contrast to our overly voracious mother. When discussion turned to such a subject, she would politely excuse herself and refrain from answering the impertinently enquiring questions that she was bombarded with. She hated the speculation of it all; the abrupt change in attitude of our mother. More than anything, she feared disappointment.

In private, she expressed to me, her fear that everybody was grossly mistaken by Mr Bingley's conduct. He had never, she did not believe, been anything but friendly towards her, and he had not expressed a desire of anything more. They had spoken of many things, but he had never referred to the future but in the vaguest of terms.

She expressed some concern over her own conduct. Had she passed to many minutes in his company? Had her behaviour been unguarded? Ungentle? Or, worse still, flirtatious? Did Mr Bingley believe that she had designs upon him? Did everybody speak of her? Did they believe she had acted the part of the foolish girl in love? And while I could repeatedly reassure her it had not been the case, she was still greatly anxious for her appearances.

It was this terror, rather than any action she might have made, in public or in private, that led me to understand the truest extent of her anxiety over Mr Bingley. She truly felt for him.

The girls hardly made Jane's situation any easier, forever begging to be bridesmaids at the ceremony that was not even agreed upon. She would blush and gently tell them that whenever she should be lucky enough to betrothed to anybody, she would see what she could do for them. Lydia, would then demand to know why, at nineteen, Jane was still single; Lydia was certain she would be married as soon as she was out, just like me.

Mama blamed Darcy for Bingley's inability to speak up, keeping him engaged shooting all day long, and then spending far too long alone with him after dinner. She considered it a most selfish action on Darcy's part, especially when he had Bingley's attention all day as it was. Then, when the two men did appear, she could not get Darcy and me out of the room at the same time; conspiracy was much harder than it would have been in her own house.

I frequently attempted to quell my mother's outbursts, gently reminding her of Mr Bingley's relative youth, more to spare Jane the mortification than anything. All the while, I secretly hoped that something would be said before he disappeared to Oxford until Christmas. Surely he would not leave Jane in such confusing dissatisfaction?

Finally I received another communication from my husband, informing me that his hunting had proceded well, and he would be returning in the second week of October. He and his friends had found their fill of sport for the year. His distance during his absence had troubled me, once again bringing me to realise that even when he seemed my only ally, I still meant very little to him, less, perhaps, than he meant to me. Could he not trust me? My son-in-law appeared relieved when I imparted the news over the breakfast table. I wondered at it; he had seemed distracted for some time now. Perhaps there were estate worries, but it had to be Darcy's own intimate concern. The only conclusion I could reach was that he and Miss Grimston must have reached an understanding, for if it were anything more serious, then Fitzwilliam Darcy would have informed me.

1. Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset, 'Dorinda's Sparkling Wit and Eyes', (1636-1706).

2. Sharon Thomas, 'History of the Anglo-Saxons', (1799-1805).