Section I, Next Section
Posted on Monday, 24 September 2001, at 4:10 a.m.
Three gentlemen were sitting in a pub. They had a table near the window, which two of them liked and the third did not. "Gentlemen, I really think that --" the young man named Bingley began, but then a woman walked past outside. "Oh...eight!" he cried in delight.
One of his companions, a young man called Darcy, had first pricked up his ears and raised his eyes from the book he was sneakily reading under the table at the sound of his friend's voice, then lost attention when he heard them being addressed as gentlemen, since this usually introduced one of Bingley's less interesting remarks. He regained interest briefly when there was a mention of Bingley thinking, but then his common sense got the better of him. Bingley never thought enough thoughts to fill a sentence with and Darcy was very aware of that.
Hurst, Bingley's other companion, was more concerned with counting the bubbles in his ale. He vaguely heard Bingley say something, but Bingley said things all the time and one could not always listen. It cost so much effort to start listening just to hear the sentence being cut off again.
"Er..." Bingley stared after the woman. "Oh! Well, I have to say -- eight -- don't you think -- really -- or do you perhaps think seven -- no..."
"Hmm," Darcy answered and Hurst grunted. They knew that Bingley needed signs of being heard once in a while.
"Oh oh," Bingley said again. "I can't believe that she -- but of course it's --" He looked at his companions. "Wouldn't you agree?"
Darcy elaborated on his previous comment. "Hmm hmm." He looked up briefly at Bingley, but he would much rather read on.
"Indeed," Hurst agreed, even going so far as to speak a bisyllabic word.
"I lost what I was going to -- was it that I -- no, I really forgot because there was...er..." Bingley shook his head. "Phew. Who would have guessed they had eights here, eh?"
"Not me," said Darcy automatically. He felt the book in his lap. If Bingley continued speaking to nobody in particular, he might as well put the book on the table openly and continue reading.
"Hmwah." Hurst denied it as well. He took a sip of his divine ale. Too bad the glass was empty now. He would like another if his companions agreed.
"I need another drink," Bingley said unexpectedly. "It was Miss Bennet."
"No, it wasn't," Darcy answered, his mind still on his book. The next chapter was going to reveal whom it had been and he was certain that it was Fredericia.
Darcy's words carried weight with Bingley and he looked stunned. He had enough faith in Darcy doubt himself and he wondered if he had only had a vision. "It could be," he said hesitantly. "I've often thought she was a nine...and this was an eight. Most definitely. Yes -- what do you say, Hurst?" He thought Hurst was staring after the woman too.
Hurst had been under the pleasant impression that Bingley was going to order more drinks for them and he was impatient when Bingley stalled. "Yes," he said irritably, not having any idea of what Bingley was talking about. "Women," he said. That was a word that fitted in anywhere and that never needed any elaboration. He had found that he could use it very often without letting on that he had not been paying attention.
Bingley gave him an understanding look. "Indeed!" he cried eagerly, believing he had now joined the club of men who could say women with a special significance attached to it. "Now I really need a drink. Is that alright with you, Darcy?" Darcy always had to be consulted before Bingley could do anything.
"What is?" Darcy had missed something.
"Another drink."
Darcy was just wrinkling his nose when he realised this meant he could stealthily read his book under the table for a while longer if they had another drink, and he unwrinkled his nose.
"Don't act like a rabbit, Darcy," Bingley told him.
Hurst turned back from longingly glancing at the publican. "Are we having rabbit tonight?" He liked rabbit.
"There was a wrinkle on Darcy's...er..." Bingley really meant to finish that sentence, but something else came up. He remembered they were having chicken that evening. "Chicken. Tonight."
Hurst wondered if he could muster up the energy to tell Bingley what he was saying, but he decided he could not. What was the use? And Darcy had not heard it anyway. He steered Bingley away from the topic. "Are you going to order the drinks, Bingley?"
"If Darcy agrees," Bingley said. "Oh, seven," he said when another woman walked past. "Hmmm...eight."
Darcy shook his head, keeping his eyes on his book. Only fifty pages to go. "Two." Everyone was a two. He was supposed to be engaged to Anne and Anne was a four, so there.
Bingley was appalled. "Two? Definitely a seven, I should think. But maybe..." He looked doubtful, wanting to rely on Darcy's judgement. "If you say so...six?" He hated giving sixes.
It annoyed Hurst to be stuck with two men who could only speak in numbers, especially since Bingley's scale started at seven and Darcy's scale ended at four and they would never agree. "I thought we might have a real conversation for once." He had thought it would tire him to speak such a long sentence, but it was not that bad.
Bingley and Darcy looked amazed.
"What?" Hurst said irritably. Was his idea that strange?
Bingley still looked amazed. "You said something."
"Why should that surprise you?"
Darcy looked impressed as well. "Well, you never do. Bingley and I are conversing here by ourselves and you only grunt once in a while. I find it very curious that you of all people should comment on it."
Hurst's feeling of irritation increased. "You call that conversing?" he cried. That 'conversation' was not worth anything more than grunts. It did not deserve to be called a conversation at all.
Bingley and Darcy looked at each other uncomprehendingly. "Why, yes." Hurst had had too much to drink, obviously.
Two
Sitting near the window with Bingley was always a hazardous undertaking if you were bent on having real conversation. Hurst discovered this when Bingley apparently spotted something else coming down the road. "Oooooh...nine," Bingley said, looking ecstatic.
"Ten," said Hurst.
Nothing else could have distracted Bingley, but this did. "Ten?" he asked in confusion, not realising he was facing Hurst and that Hurst therefore had to have a different view of the road than he did. He only thought of Miss Bennet and the potential competition this comment had implied. "B-B-But --" he spluttered.
"Ten," Hurst replied with glee. "And one."
Bingley had stumbled on something to say. "But you're married!" Hurst had to stay away from Miss Bennet!
"Exactly."
"But that means you have no right to say such things!"
"On the contrary, they're expected of me," Hurst said calmly.
"No, they're not!" Bingley nearly died from worry and Darcy nearly died from laughter.
Darcy had even put Fredericia aside for this. He too could see another part of the road and he knew what Hurst meant. "But ten and one?" he looked doubtful. "Surely not?"
"Ten and one," Hurst maintained.
"Eleven?" Bingley cried, terrified by this statement.
"No, ten and one is not eleven."
"It is! I'm not stupid!" Bingley began to look wild. He was fast becoming very confused.
"Bingley, you are stupid," Darcy told him in a calm voice. "Calm down. Take a look around before you fly off the handle."
But Bingley in his wild-eyed state was incapable of seeing anything pertinent except Miss Bennet, who came closer and stopped right before their window to converse with Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley. "Oh," Bingley said weakly. "She has stopped walking. Don't look," he warned Hurst. "You're married."
"Indeed and that's Mrs Hurst," he indicated with a nod of his head.
"All the more reasons not to look at Miss Bennet if Louisa's there."
Darcy slid half under the table again, but without his book this time. His body was shaking in an odd fashion.
Hurst spoke some very strange words, to Bingley's ear. "I don't want to look at Miss Bennet."
"You called her a ten," Bingley said accusingly. "And a ten and one."
"Oh, not Miss Bennet," Hurst laughed. "That was Mrs Hurst -- Louisa."
Bingley looked appalled. "Louisa a ten?" He could not imagine it. Hurst was pulling his leg, or more likely, both of them.
"I'm married. I have to."
Bingley did not like to be critical of anyone, but he could not escape it sometimes and his sisters were the perfect targets. "She's a little podgy. And she's my sister."
"I do agree that fact might decrease it to a nine," said Hurst. "Though it is your other sister who has that privilege."
"But she's not as bad as a one, though," Darcy remarked.
"I thought a one was pretty hot on your scale." Hurst raised his eyebrows.
"I was talking about your scale here," Darcy said, colouring. "Obviously."
"I'd like to test yours. We've all got one lady here and you've got two. There's Miss Elizabeth. And Caroline. Which of the two gets the three?"
Three
Darcy was always startled by questions that hit too close to home, especially if they concerned his opinion of young ladies of whom he really held an opinion. It was far easier to make statements about girls he did not care for.
Right now he was expected to say which of the two deserved the three. The truth was that he did not really consider anyone to be as low as a three. It was Darcy's best kept secret that his scale did not run from one to four, but actually from five to eight. Lately, however, he had been considering expanding it to include nine.
He was now being punished for his overly critical attitude. From the looks on Bingley and Hurst's faces he could tell they would not rest until they had an honest answer and he could also tell that they suspected or knew something. Why else had they said he had two ladies?
Some ungentlemanlike words occurred to him and he quickly repressed the urge to speak them, feeling guilty for ever having thought them in the first place. He was a gentleman.
But to say now that Miss Bingley and Miss Bennet were worthy of something far higher than a three was out of the question. Bingley and Hurst would immediately jump on his words and distort them. He should not have been so rash. He should never have said Caroline was more than a one. Spending too much time with Bingley apparently ensured that one took over Bingley's vices such as speaking without thinking.
He should be flippant about this and say both ladies were a two. Darcy opened his mouth, but he had not reckoned with his sense of honesty and justice. It was now preventing him from speaking such a lie. But it was not only that -- Bingley would surely reveal it to the ladies in question in his attempts to change his friend's opinion. He could just hear Bingley laying it on thick, trying to get him to spend some time with one of them. Surely the ladies would be intelligent enough to understand that if a man needed prompting, he did not have a very high opinion of them.
Darcy felt he was trapped. He had never thought it could happen. Up to now, he had always escaped Caroline by wriggling out of her traps at the last moment and it had given him a sense of invincibility. He had been thinking he was clever enough to escape traps, but pride went before a fall and this proved it again. He had been underestimating the people who were truly dangerous, such as Bingley and Hurst. That had been very bad of him.
"Darcy, Hurst asked you a question," said Bingley with his usual inability to wait for an answer. If people did not reply quickly, he would forget what the question had been.
Hurst nodded expectantly.
Was that a twinkle of amusement in Hurst's eyes? Darcy told himself he was becoming so paranoid that he was seeing the impossible. It could not be. "Did he?" he asked to win time.
"He did." Bingley and Hurst exchanged significant looks. "I don't mind repeating it for you," said Bingley helpfully. "Hurst asked if Miss Elizabeth or Caroline gets the three."
"Which three?" Darcy feigned ignorance.
"You probably don't think it's Caroline, do you?" Bingley asked Hurst.
"I wouldn't give her a three, not if I had Darcy's rating scale, yet someone is getting a three here -- isn't it warm in this pub, Darcy?" Hurst said sympathetically.
Darcy was indeed feeling a little warm. "Yes, a little."
"I wonder why," Hurst laughed with another significant look at Bingley.
Darcy felt terribly left out of the fun, especially because he guessed that he was the object of their amusement.
"I say, how do we convert Darcy's scale to something manageable?" Bingley inquired.
"Factor three, most likely. Well, Darcy? We are still waiting for you opinion on the ladies' attractiveness."
"Gentlemen should not --"
"Oh, they should," Hurst said quickly. "And certainly in the company of other gentlemen. If you do not help us out, we shall be forced to jump to conclusions, is that no so, Bingley?"
"Yes, yes," said Bingley with a wide grin. "Wouldn't it be nice if we were all brothers?"
Darcy rolled his eyes. No, that would not be nice at all.
"Really, it is nicer than you think," Hurst said in a serious voice. "If we were brothers, you would already have made your choice and there would not be any need for us to bother you about it."
"There is no need now either," Darcy replied tersely.
"Well, I disagree," said Bingley.
"Bingley disagrees. I feel this historic occasion deserves to be celebrated with another drink," Hurst announced, beckoning for more drinks. Another drink might loosen Darcy's tongue. The fellow was too darned controlled.
Bingley beamed as if someone had made him a huge compliment. "You would do me a great service, Darcy, if you married both ladies."
"Where does marriage come into this?" Darcy looked startled.
"He can only marry one, Bingley," Hurst reminded him. "It's in the law."
"I quite like her sister," Bingley explained. "And it will be easier for me if you already established a bond between our families. As for my sister, my life would be more agreeable if someone married her."
"There is no bond between our families, Bingley," Darcy explained. "Not unless you married my sister or I married yours, in which cases neither of us could marry a Bennet girl."
"Damn," said Bingley, but he was not too disappointed. He always looked on the bright side of life. "If one of your cousins married my sister, there would be a bond, am I right?"
Darcy looked doubtful. "Do you really think my cousin and I would get married in order to make life easier for you?"
"Why not? I'm a nice fellow."
"Not that nice."
"He is not that far yet, Bingley," said Hurst after a brief analysis. "He does not betray any eagerness to marry either woman. They deserve more than a disinterested husband."
"I beg your pardon?" Darcy asked. He had not expected this turn. "Are you such an interested husband?"
"I called my wife a ten," Hurst replied, raising his glass. "Cheers."
"But you did not mean it."
"If you say so, but you will not even lie about it. You're hopeless. You'd make any woman unhappy. Really, do you think they would appreciate a husband who said they were a two, or possibly -- if he is in an exceptionally good mood -- a three?" Hurst laughed sarcastically. "You had better make sure they do not find out, otherwise they will not have you even if you offered them all the riches in the world. And before you say it, a four does not suffice either. Nothing less than a ten will do. Bingley's only stuck at nine as well, so we're not going to be hearing any wedding bells soon."
Four
Sorry. I postponed the end once again.
The ladies came in! Darcy could see that some entered quite reluctantly, although he was trying not to stare, but staring was not staring if he did not stare at their faces. In the background he could hear Hurst counting very slowly, but he paid no attention.
"...seven...eight..."
"They're here," Bingley said in awe, probably referring to the Misses Bennet, because he could be near his sisters anytime.
"...nine -- nine!" Hurst said triumphantly.
"Nine what?" Darcy asked with a frown. Had Mrs Hurst gone down in her husband's estimation? But in that case there would not be any reason to cheer. Hurst was really odd. That was probably the best explanation for the whole thing.
Hurst leant across the table and lowered his voice in a conspiratorial manner. "Nine seconds until you closed your mouth. That means you think one of them is a nine." He poked a finger at the group of ladies, who had chosen a table on the other side of the room.
"But Hurst, they could also be a four and a half both," Bingley remarked very seriously. "That would be more in line with Darcy's scale. Two times four and a half is also nine."
"In which case they would still beat Anne. Oooh. We are definitely on to something here." Hurst and Bingley shook hands.
Darcy had slowly turned reddish and he had kept his jaws firmly clenched, lest his mouth should open of his own accord again. "Hushzishmeshashashishsheeshsheshishishiteshish," he said with his mouth closed, but he was most obviously annoyed.
The full force of his annoyance was not felt by the two others because of his incomprehensible mumbling. "Say that again, Darcy?" Hurst said, inclining his head so his ear was closer to Darcy. "I didn't quite catch it."
But Hurst could not see what Darcy could and that was Louisa storming towards him at full speed. She thought his other ear was a perfect target and she slapped it with one of her gloves. "I thought I had told you not to drink before supper!" she hissed.
"You're not sure if you told me?" he asked, nursing his now red ear. "I'm certainly not sure either."
Louisa grabbed him by the collar and dragged him through a door.
"Where are they going?" Darcy wondered, but he wondered most of all why Hurst allowed himself to be dragged away. Duels were forbidden, or did that not apply to duels involving women?
"Somewhere private," Bingley guessed. He looked worried. "You know, it is really not advisable to antagonise Louisa."
Darcy had never wanted to do that, but he saw he even had to avoid upsetting Louisa involuntarily. She had nails and hairpins and possibly more secret weapons. He shuddered to think what Hurst would look like when he returned -- if he returned.
One of the kitchen helps wanted to carry an empty plate through the same door. He opened it, but then shrank back in embarrassment.
Bingley was quick to beckon him to their table. "I'll give you a penny if you tell me what you saw," he said in a soft voice.
The kitchen help did not earn very high wages, so he was eager to augment them whenever he got the chance. "I saw the man and the woman, sir. They were --"
"Bingley!" Darcy interrupted in shock. "Have you any idea what you are doing?" It was wrong to spy on people and also to spy on people by proxy.
"Yes, I'm bribing this boy."
"I'll give you two pence if you don't tell him," Darcy said to the boy. He dug in his pocket for the coins.
"Three if you do," Bingley countered.
The boy looked from one to the other. He sensed he could take this quite a long way and prepared himself for a large sum of money.
"Four if you don't."
"Five."
"Six," Darcy said grimly.
"Seven!"
"Eeeiiiiggghhhht!"
"Ni-hine."
"I'll give you a pound if you stop bothering these gentlemen," said Miss Bingley arrogantly. Nobody had seen her approach and all three looked at her in surprise.
The kitchen boy held out his hand. He knew when to stop gambling. This lady was offering him much more than the gentlemen ever would.
Miss Bingley dropped a pound in his hand with a disgusted look on her face. Then she turned to Darcy. "Are you not glad I saved you, Darcy?" she asked in a sweet voice.
For once Darcy genuinely felt saved. He was an honest man, so he nodded. "Yes, thank you."
"Shouldn't you be staying with your friends?" asked Bingley, who was worried that Jane was feeling neglected. He shot some anxious glances in her direction.
"But I had to save Darcy!" Miss Bingley protested, wanting to hear him thank her yet another time.
"Well, I feel you cannot neglect your friends in this manner," Bingley said in determination. "I must make your apologies." He nearly pushed his chair over in his hurry to get to the other table.
"Isn't he terribly obvious?" Miss Bingley said, rolling her eyes. "I must save you again, Mr Darcy. From boredom and neglect this time." She sat down opposite him.
Five
Darcy did not know whether he was truly saved by Miss Bingley's company, but he was a gentleman and he would never say anything negative to a lady's face. She was right in stating that he would be saved from neglect -- Miss Bingley could never neglect him.
He was more interested in sitting opposite Miss Elizabeth Bennet and he glanced over at her table. Bingley was sitting next to her, the cad! Darcy looked on jealously. Even if he now suggested to Miss Bingley that they transfer, he would not be able to sit next to her, because Bingley was already there. The worst thing of all was that Bingley did not even care where he was sitting. He was sitting next to Elizabeth and he did not even look at her.
"As I was saying," said Miss Bingley and Darcy was glad she recapitulated, because he had not heard a word. Or rather, he had not processed what he had been hearing. "I was glad to part with a pound for such a good cause."
It seemed to Darcy that Miss Bingley was always fond of parting with pounds, whatever the cause. She spent more than she ought. "Charity is always worthy of praise," he began. This was not charity, however. "But --"
She beamed back at him.
Darcy realised he had spoken too hastily. "I did not mean to say this was charity."
"You are too modest!"
"If this was charity," Darcy said, thinking out loud. "Then you will not mind our joining Bingley's table out of charity -- sympathy with Miss Elizabeth Bennet for being stuck with Bingley, who only has eyes for her sister." He felt extremely proud of this clever move.
Miss Bingley disagreed, as tough as it was for her to disagree with Darcy. She told herself she was doing him good. "You do realise that sitting at that table will mark you as Mrs Bennet's future son-in-law?" she asked with an affected shudder of disgust.
"Will it? What about Bingley?"
"Charles will do as I say," his sister said confidently. "Or as you say and I doubt that either of us would tell him Jane Bennet is a good choice."
Darcy would not. "And my sitting here with you has no consequences?"
"Of course not," Miss Bingley said innocently. "I am not local."
He felt slightly confused by her logic. "I am going to join Bingley. He cannot make a spectacle of himself like that. It would be wrong to single ladies out in this manner, even though you say you have power over him."
Miss Bingley pouted and manoeuvred herself so that she reached Bingley's table sooner than Darcy did, making it seems as if it had been her idea and not his, otherwise it would seem as if Darcy had deserted her. Now, she appeared very sociable. "We are joining you. The more the merrier," she announced with a sincere smile. She would not be any merrier, but she was proud of her strategic move.
There were limits to Darcy's astuteness and he did not notice. He could only concentrate on one woman at a time and at the moment he was trying to divine what Elizabeth Bennet's mocking glance meant. He, Mr Darcy of Pemberley, was not often mocked except by his cousin, but then at least he knew it was well-deserved and always reciprocated. Now, however, he did not think he deserved to be mocked and certainly not by a country girl.
Mr and Mrs Hurst reappeared. "Cards, anyone?" Hurst asked when he counted enough heads to yield at least four players.
"No!" Miss Bingley brushed his suggestion off. They were seven and one of them would be stuck with Charles and Jane while the rest played. If Hurst suggested cards, he would automatically appoint Darcy and Louisa as fellow players, with politeness dictating that Miss Elizabeth should be the fourth. It was inevitable. This meant that she herself would have to listen to Charles.
"Alright, Caroline is out," said Hurst with a gleeful smile. "There are five other people left. Anyone?" As he had thought, Bingley and Jane did not even hear him, or chose not to.
"Louisa, tell your husband to refrain from speaking unless he has a meaningful contribution to the conversation," Miss Bingley complained. She was sure Hurst was being conniving. He did not want her to play.
"Louisa, tell your sister the same," said Mr Hurst.
Miss Bingley was upset. "It's him or me!" she threatened Louisa.
"You would not want to know the answer," Hurst predicted. Now that he had one person where he wanted her, he moved on to the next. "I suggest that you and Miss Elizabeth team up against Louisa and me, Darcy, but you would have to sit next to her."
Darcy had no problems with that. Elizabeth consented as well, although she was not as eager to sit next to him.
"What do you say, Darcy?" asked Hurst when he was shuffling the cards. He held up the four of hearts.
The significance of that was very clear. "N-N-No," Darcy stuttered. That was not enough, certainly not now that he was sitting next to her.
They played a round and then Caroline replaced Darcy after much nagging. Hurst immediately changed the game. "Whoever gets the king of hearts, loses. This is him. You want to avoid this man. He looks a little like Darcy with a beard, by the way." He studied the card critically.
"No, he does not!" Darcy protested.
"Yes, he does. Perhaps we should make it that whoever gets him, wins, just to be nice to you. Ladies?"
"That is easier," said Miss Bingley. "I am in favour."
Elizabeth did not really want to win 'Darcy,' but she did want to try to beat that smug Miss Bingley, who obviously believed her playing skills were far superior to anyone else's.
Six
It was an exciting game. While some tried not to get stuck with the king of hearts -- alias Darcy -- others did the opposite and yet the outcome was completely dependent on the person who had that particular card in his possession from the start. By a cruel twist of fate -- or clever dealing -- that person happened to be Mr Hurst. He could do with the king of hearts as he pleased: keep him or give him away, although it was quite hard to give him to someone specific. However, he was skilled enough to accomplish that.
It took until the last round for the king -- or Darcy, as Hurst preferred to think of him -- to fall. Elizabeth had been forced to save her ace, because that was one of the two cards that could catch the king, the other being the king himself. Hurst had divined long ago that she had the ace of hearts. Three things had led him to that conclusion. One, Miss Bingley had already stopped playing hearts the second time they were asked. Two, he could look into Louisa's hand. Three, he did not have the ace himself. Therefore he had known that if he managed to keep everyone from playing hearts, the ace would catch the king in the thirteenth round.
He could tell by Elizabeth's expression that she knew she would win the moment he played his king. She had known the king was still in the game, otherwise they would have stopped already, but if the first person to play this round should play another colour, her ace would not top the king. She would be safe -- or disappointed -- in that case. Hurst reserved judgement in this matter. "Darcy has fallen," he said solemnly.
Darcy had been peeking into everyone's cards, curious as he was about the fate of his bearded representative. He was about to be given to one of the two women. It was a very exciting and significant time for him. Against his better judgement, he hoped he would end up in Hurst's or Louisa's hands, because then they would have to play another game and Miss Bennet or Louisa might object. It was not likely that Hurst and Caroline were going to do that.
However, if Miss Bennet got him he would like that as well. It might elicit some reaction from her that he could use to base his behaviour upon.
And Miss Bennet did get him. Darcy looked at her anxiously. What would she say? He did not expect her to jump for joy -- she was too well-mannered for that -- but she could at least smile or something in that vein.
She pretended to have forgotten the king of hearts' connection to Darcy, but Hurst quickly reminded her. "Miss Bennet won Darcy. Had we agreed on the number of points we should now award Miss Bennet?" He gave Darcy a very wicked grin.
Darcy was about to lose his composure upon discovering Hurst's underhand strategy. "Ten," he suggested through clenched teeth. How could the vile man possibly have come up with this elaborate way of finding out what he thought about Miss Bennet?
Hurst quickly spotted an opportunity to switch tactics. "Would you agree Darcy is worth a ten, Miss Bennet?" he inquired.
Elizabeth was of course not aware of any scoring system involving humans. She was only thinking about cards, as any good girl ought. "I won, so I don't see why it matters how many points I get, as long as the winner of the next game receives the same."
"The next game?" Hurst was dismayed. "We can play with such a serious character as Darcy only once!"
"He does not like to be played with?" Elizabeth inclined her head questioningly.
Darcy coloured. "No, madam. Not particularly."
"Perhaps, sir, you were offended by Mr Hurst's opinion of your appearance?" She traced her forefinger across the beard of the king of hearts.
"I see no resemblance whatsoever," Darcy said stiffly.
"I agree that you do not have a beard, but perhaps you did this morning? Or do you also not have a heart?" Her finger lightly touched the heart on the playing card.
Darcy could not deny the existence of his heart at the moment, for it was making its presence very clear, almost to an audible extent. "I do," he whispered.
Elizabeth thought he was vexed and she was not averse to vexing him a little more. "But you also shave it off in the morning?"
"Miss Bennet ought to be instructed in the ways of the heart," Hurst commented.
"Why is that?"
"I can deduce a lot about her character from the way that she plays."
"Really?" she leant forward interestedly.
"She is a careful person. She saves her ace of hearts till the end and then plays it winningly, with Darcy as the poor victim. She waits very long before giving her heart, but if she does, she gives it wholly and completely." He decided against repeating the phrase about Darcy as the poor victim. It would not do yet.
It was a bit too much for Elizabeth to digest the idea of giving her heart completely to Darcy. "Your forget," she said, "that I played a seven and an eight before I played my ace." She was glad she had some way to defend herself.
"Do not attempt to thwart my theory, Miss Bennet, for I shall always have a trump card up my sleeve."
"I do not consider your theory worth thwarting, sir," she said politely.
"Indeed!" Miss Bingley was eager to agree with her for once.
"Underestimation is one of the most dangerous traps a person can fall into," Hurst warned.
"You are a veritable fountain of wisdom, Mr Hurst," Elizabeth said sarcastically.
"In vino veritas. That is because he imbibes so much," Darcy remarked.
Hurst shrugged. "It is good for the heart, or so my late grandmother always told me."
Seven
"We are a dull party!" Miss Bingley exclaimed. "Nobody has been saying anything for minutes!"
"Which is surely odd if you are part of the company," Mr Hurst mumbled. His wife was upset, for she had been speaking to him in a low voice all this while and he had not shown any signs of having listened to her.
"We should go home, Lizzy," said Jane after an anxious glance at the clock.
"I am so glad not to have parents anymore," Miss Bingley declared, implying she was no longer a child who had to come home at a certain hour.
"Nobody cares if you do not come home?" Elizabeth inquired sweetly. "I am disappointed in Mr Bingley!"
Bingley looked anxious to restore his good name. "I am only a brother," he protested. "Do you have any authority over your sisters?"
"Oh yes. Jane always does exactly as I say," she said merrily.
"That is because Jane -- Miss Bennet --" Bingley halted and coloured. He was taking too many liberties in public there.
"It was my understanding that you were the younger of the two," said Darcy to Elizabeth.
"Younger sisters do not always have to obey their elder siblings." She could imagine he would expect total obedience from his younger sister himself.
Miss Bingley supported this view, being the younger sister herself, even though it was Elizabeth's opinion. "After everyone has reached a certain age that is really unnecessary. You become equals."
"Equals?" Darcy could not really see his sister become his equal.
"Well," Miss Bingley was eager to flaunt her knowledge of his family in front of the Bennet sisters. "Like you and your cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. He told me he was older than you." Not only did she know Darcy's cousin but she also knew his age -- roughly.
"Much older," Darcy said sarcastically.
"Yet you consider yourself to be his equal," she said cleverly.
"But he is not my sister," Darcy said not so cleverly. He really disliked it when women laughed at him and right now he had one of them laughing at him openly and the other looking smug.
"Who is this cousin?" Elizabeth asked interestedly. "I have not heard my own cousin Mr Collins mention him, but my cousin might solely be interested in Lady Catherine's female offspring. I would perhaps refrain from mentioning Mr Collins as well if I should ever come to discuss my cousins with anyone. Is Lady Catherine the Colonel's mother as well?"
Darcy choked. "Fitzwilliam would --" He had been about to say something ungentlemanlike and he swallowed it just in time.
"He would not be happy," Elizabeth concluded with a smile. "But what was it you were going to say, Mr Darcy?"
"Nothing, Miss Bennet."
She lowered her eyes with a meaningful grin. Mr Darcy himself would not be happy to have Lady Catherine for a mother either. It was a surprising bit of news and something he would have wished to keep private, no doubt. She explored it for teasing value and found that it would be very nicely. "Am I to deduce that your cousin is a friend of yours, Mr Darcy?"
"Why are you asking?" he asked suspiciously.
"Well, because you seem to be able to tell what his reaction will be," she said innocently. And of course Miss Bingley had mentioned him, which meant he was close enough to Darcy to be of interest to her.
"We are good friends."
"Yet he is so much older, you said."
"A year or two."
"So in fact he is quite --" Elizabeth bit off her tongue before she could call Mr Darcy young. He might be young in body, but he was ancient in spirit. "-- quite equal to you."
"Quite."
"I thought you had no equals, Mr Darcy."
"I do not, really, but he comes closest."
"Pfff," Elizabeth said, thinking he meant this in earnest. He was too proud and conceited for her liking. She waited a while before speaking next. "Jane, shall we go home?" Jane assented and they rose.
"Bingley and I should escort you," Darcy said, sounding somewhat reluctant. Bingley did not look reluctant at all at this suggestion, but very eager, just as Darcy had expected.
"There is no need, I assure you."
"Yes, but --"
"We know the way by now, after twenty years."
Bingley joined in on the conversation. "I think it would be safer if the two of us went with you."
"Why am I being left out?" Mr Hurst asked.
"You have to accompany Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley," said Darcy. Someone should keep Caroline busy.
Hurst had his own reasons for not wanting to take Caroline, although they had nothing to do with Caroline's liking for Darcy. "Miss Bingley is too much for me. You take her."
"Do go with the young people, Caroline," Mrs Hurst urged, even though the difference in age could not be seen.
Darcy wondered if he could lose Caroline somewhere along the way. Really, who would care? Elizabeth perhaps, if this meant this meant she was left alone with him. He could never tell whether the ladies were friends or enemies. They gave off such conflicting signals.
Eight
Miss Bingley had insisted that Darcy offer his arm to both ladies and Elizabeth had insisted that they take a certain path to Longbourn. The result of this was that nobody would be able to overtake them on this path because they were occupying its entire width.
Jane and Mr Bingley had lagged behind, for they had seen a dead animal and they had to be absolutely certain that it was not still living. Miss Bingley had been disgusted and she had urged Mr Darcy, who more or less dictated their pace, being in the middle, to move on. What had happened to Jane and Mr Bingley since then was a mystery, because they could not be seen anymore.
"I shall not be able to eat tonight," Miss Bingley declared.
"The cook is hardly going to serve that dead animal for dinner," Darcy replied. He had a difficult time seeing Bingley carry it home.
Miss Bingley shuddered. "How disgusting to serve a dead animal."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Do you usually eat live animals then, Miss Bingley?"
"I do not eat animals at all."
While Elizabeth was thinking about this remark, she could see a horse rider approaching them. Perhaps he would turn off at the crossing ahead. From this distance she could not see who it was, but she supposed it was nobody she knew, because the horseman paused at the crossing as if he did not know which way to take. He appeared to see them and spurred his horse on. When he halted in front of them, she could see it was a stranger.
It was no stranger to the rest of the party. "Goodness, Darcy!" said the stranger in a surprised voice. "Just the man I was looking for." He jumped off his horse and bowed. "And Miss Bingley -- not quite the woman I was looking for."
Elizabeth liked him already.
"Rest assured, Colonel," Miss Bingley replied haughtily. "You are not quite what I had hoped to find in these woods either. First a dead animal and now you."
"I should have been surprised to hear you had hoped to find me, because I should think you didn't know I was going to be here," the Colonel answered unaffected.
"What brings you here?" Darcy asked after he had introduced Colonel Fitzwilliam to Miss Bennet with a slight stutter.
"I have to be in the neighbourhood for a few days and I thought I'd pay you a visit to discuss some business."
Elizabeth had freed her arm because she supposed Darcy would like to talk to the stranger and the path was not wide enough to admit the three of them, the Colonel and his horse. Miss Bingley would have to let go of Darcy as well and she did so reluctantly. The two ladies walked on ahead. "Do you know the gentleman?" Elizabeth asked in a low voice. He appeared to be a nice man.
Miss Bingley considered her answer. "He is Darcy's cousin." She did not want to know the man, but it was imperative that she should claim to know Darcy's relatives.
"Is he?" Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder and saw the men involved in a serious discussion. She did not really see a family resemblance. "His being Bingley's cousin would have made more sense." They both had friendly smiles, something she had never yet discerned in Darcy.
This unsettled Miss Bingley. "I should not like to have the man as my cousin."
"He is more like Mr Darcy than he appears at first sight?" Elizabeth said knowingly, but then she remembered that Miss Bingley held a differing opinion of Mr Darcy and she giggled. She was not going to get a satisfying answer to that question.
Miss Bingley was wise enough not to reply. She glanced back and noticed they had apparently stood still long enough for her brother and Jane to come into view again. She squinted, trying to see whether Charles was carrying a dead animal.
"Would you care to use my binoculars, Miss Bingley?" the Colonel inquired.
"Yes, please." He handed them to her and she focused them on Charles.
"Are they behaving?" Elizabeth asked.
"I am not sure it is terribly good manners to study people with binoculars to see if they are behaving," the Colonel suggested. "Or are you not looking at us? What do you say, Darcy?" Darcy made a vague gesture backwards and he turned. "Oh! Why are these things behind us so interesting?"
"They are Bingley and the other Miss Bennet."
Colonel withdrew a pair of glasses from his pocket and put them on. He looked back in amazement. "Goodness, they are indeed people! I was under the assumption she was looking at two deer."
"You do not see the difference between people and deer?" Miss Bingley asked sceptically.
"From a distance and without my glasses I should even think you a dear, Miss Bingley."
Darcy made a strange sound he covered up by coughing.
"Is she not the wrong colour?" Elizabeth asked seriously.
"Even Miss Bingley would become a blur at a distance."
"I did not know you needed glasses," said Miss Bingley.
"I am not in the habit of introducing myself as 'Colonel Fitzwilliam and I need glasses.' I thought, miss Bingley, that you would have been able to tell from my age that I might be needing them? Darcy never told you?"
"What would have been the point?" Darcy muttered. He did not engage in insignificant gossip.
"You always pretend that you never say pointless things, but we all know better. That is the automatic result of putting more than two gentlemen together. You ought to eavesdrop on three gentlemen once for fun. I daresay you would be amused. We merely speak sense to impress ladies, but if there are no ladies present..." Colonel Fitzwilliam heaved a regretful sigh. "Is that not so, Darcy?"
Darcy stuttered. "I-I-I...er...don't know."
"I am sorry to disagree with you!" Elizabeth cried. "I have heard many a gentleman speaking nonsense while he was trying to impress a lady. How do you explain that?"
"I suggest that was because the lady was too impressive," he said in mock seriousness.
"I think you are talking nonsense, Colonel!"
"And you are very presumptuous, Miss Bennet!" he said with a twinkle. "To presume that either you or Miss Bingley are impressive enough to make me talk nonsense!"
Darcy and Miss Bingley looked rather shocked or displeased, but Elizabeth laughed at it. "Not at all! I am modest enough to grant that favour to Miss Bingley!" She glanced at the other lady and snorted. Miss Bingley did not nearly have enough of a sense of humour to join in, which was not a pity. She and Colonel Fitzwilliam could have some fun regardless.
Eight
Miss Bingley had insisted that Darcy offer his arm to both ladies and Elizabeth had insisted that they take a certain path to Longbourn. The result of this was that nobody would be able to overtake them on this path because they were occupying its entire width.
Jane and Mr Bingley had lagged behind, for they had seen a dead animal and they had to be absolutely certain that it was not still living. Miss Bingley had been disgusted and she had urged Mr Darcy, who more or less dictated their pace, being in the middle, to move on. What had happened to Jane and Mr Bingley since then was a mystery, because they could not be seen anymore.
"I shall not be able to eat tonight," Miss Bingley declared.
"The cook is hardly going to serve that dead animal for dinner," Darcy replied. He had a difficult time seeing Bingley carry it home.
Miss Bingley shuddered. "How disgusting to serve a dead animal."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Do you usually eat live animals then, Miss Bingley?"
"I do not eat animals at all."
While Elizabeth was thinking about this remark, she could see a horse rider approaching them. Perhaps he would turn off at the crossing ahead. From this distance she could not see who it was, but she supposed it was nobody she knew, because the horseman paused at the crossing as if he did not know which way to take. He appeared to see them and spurred his horse on. When he halted in front of them, she could see it was a stranger.
It was no stranger to the rest of the party. "Goodness, Darcy!" said the stranger in a surprised voice. "Just the man I was looking for." He jumped off his horse and bowed. "And Miss Bingley -- not quite the woman I was looking for."
Elizabeth liked him already.
"Rest assured, Colonel," Miss Bingley replied haughtily. "You are not quite what I had hoped to find in these woods either. First a dead animal and now you."
"I should have been surprised to hear you had hoped to find me, because I should think you didn't know I was going to be here," the Colonel answered unaffected.
"What brings you here?" Darcy asked after he had introduced Colonel Fitzwilliam to Miss Bennet with a slight stutter.
"I have to be in the neighbourhood for a few days and I thought I'd pay you a visit to discuss some business."
Elizabeth had freed her arm because she supposed Darcy would like to talk to the stranger and the path was not wide enough to admit the three of them, the Colonel and his horse. Miss Bingley would have to let go of Darcy as well and she did so reluctantly. The two ladies walked on ahead. "Do you know the gentleman?" Elizabeth asked in a low voice. He appeared to be a nice man.
Miss Bingley considered her answer. "He is Darcy's cousin." She did not want to know the man, but it was imperative that she should claim to know Darcy's relatives.
"Is he?" Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder and saw the men involved in a serious discussion. She did not really see a family resemblance. "His being Bingley's cousin would have made more sense." They both had friendly smiles, something she had never yet discerned in Darcy.
This unsettled Miss Bingley. "I should not like to have the man as my cousin."
"He is more like Mr Darcy than he appears at first sight?" Elizabeth said knowingly, but then she remembered that Miss Bingley held a differing opinion of Mr Darcy and she giggled. She was not going to get a satisfying answer to that question.
Miss Bingley was wise enough not to reply. She glanced back and noticed they had apparently stood still long enough for her brother and Jane to come into view again. She squinted, trying to see whether Charles was carrying a dead animal.
"Would you care to use my binoculars, Miss Bingley?" the Colonel inquired.
"Yes, please." He handed them to her and she focused them on Charles.
"Are they behaving?" Elizabeth asked.
"I am not sure it is terribly good manners to study people with binoculars to see if they are behaving," the Colonel suggested. "Or are you not looking at us? What do you say, Darcy?" Darcy made a vague gesture backwards and he turned. "Oh! Why are these things behind us so interesting?"
"They are Bingley and the other Miss Bennet."
Colonel withdrew a pair of glasses from his pocket and put them on. He looked back in amazement. "Goodness, they are indeed people! I was under the assumption she was looking at two deer."
"You do not see the difference between people and deer?" Miss Bingley asked sceptically.
"From a distance and without my glasses I should even think you a dear, Miss Bingley."
Darcy made a strange sound he covered up by coughing.
"Is she not the wrong colour?" Elizabeth asked seriously.
"Even Miss Bingley would become a blur at a distance."
"I did not know you needed glasses," said Miss Bingley.
"I am not in the habit of introducing myself as 'Colonel Fitzwilliam and I need glasses.' I thought, miss Bingley, that you would have been able to tell from my age that I might be needing them? Darcy never told you?"
"What would have been the point?" Darcy muttered. He did not engage in insignificant gossip.
"You always pretend that you never say pointless things, but we all know better. That is the automatic result of putting more than two gentlemen together. You ought to eavesdrop on three gentlemen once for fun. I daresay you would be amused. We merely speak sense to impress ladies, but if there are no ladies present..." Colonel Fitzwilliam heaved a regretful sigh. "Is that not so, Darcy?"
Darcy stuttered. "I-I-I...er...don't know."
"I am sorry to disagree with you!" Elizabeth cried. "I have heard many a gentleman speaking nonsense while he was trying to impress a lady. How do you explain that?"
"I suggest that was because the lady was too impressive," he said in mock seriousness.
"I think you are talking nonsense, Colonel!"
"And you are very presumptuous, Miss Bennet!" he said with a twinkle. "To presume that either you or Miss Bingley are impressive enough to make me talk nonsense!"
Darcy and Miss Bingley looked rather shocked or displeased, but Elizabeth laughed at it. "Not at all! I am modest enough to grant that favour to Miss Bingley!" She glanced at the other lady and snorted. Miss Bingley did not nearly have enough of a sense of humour to join in, which was not a pity. She and Colonel Fitzwilliam could have some fun regardless.
Nine
Elizabeth stole a few surreptitious glances at the interesting gentleman and wondered what her mother would have to say about him. His being an officer would automatically make him handsome and his being a colonel would make him the handsomest of all. Elizabeth had to be truthful and admit to herself that Darcy was the better looking of the two, but she also had to be realistic and tell herself that beauty was not everything.
Bingley and Jane caught up with them and Jane was introduced to the Colonel. "We were just escorting the ladies home," said Bingley, as if he had been with them all the time.
This seemed to amuse the Colonel. "Oh yes. You never know what sort of gentlemen they might encounter in the woods." He glanced at Miss Bingley, but she did not respond. "What was that I heard about a dead animal?"
Bingley reacted to that enthusiastically. "There was a rabbit we had to rescue. Jane looked at it, but it was dead."
Darcy frowned at this comment. He was always very precise about his choice of verbs and he would never rescue a dead animal.
"Was that before or after Jane looked at it?" Elizabeth teased. His use of Jane did not escape her notice.
"Before!" Bingley looked appalled at the thought that Jane could have killed something.
"I have just come from this direction," the Colonel realised. "Why am I going back?"
"Because you like accompanying us," said Darcy.
"I can always be called upon to escort ladies. Except Miss Bingley."
Miss Bingley refrained from commenting. She pretended to be engrossed by the beauty of the forest. Perhaps she could comment on an oak -- that was a tree after all -- if only she remembered what an oak looked like.
"Why is that?" Elizabeth asked curiously.
"She believes she is in rather more danger with me than without me."
"Your self-knowledge has improved considerably, Colonel," Miss Bingley said sharply.
"And yours has not, I fear," he retaliated good-humouredly.
Elizabeth feared they did not like each other. She could understand Colonel Fitzwilliam's problems with Miss Bingley, but the reverse was harder to imagine. Mr Darcy did not seem to like the Colonel either, because at times he frowned so darkly at his cousin that it was hard to believe they could be friends.
After a vile move on the Colonel's part she was forced to walk next to Darcy behind the Colonel's horse. "Humph!" she said to herself. What had she done wrong?
"I am sorry. Did you say anything?" Darcy asked, belatedly and reluctantly, as if he had been debating with himself whether he wanted to know.
"Miss Bingley doesn't seem to like the Colonel. Why not?" They could speak freely, since the horse was between them and Miss Bingley and she could not hear them.
"I did not know she did not like him," Darcy said in surprise.
"Do you like him?"
"He is my cousin."
That was no answer. "Humph!" Elizabeth wondered if she should mention her cousin and then let him judge for himself about the importance of blood ties. Yes, she should. "You have met my cousin..."
"Yes," he answered curtly. He hoped this had been a pleasure that would not be repeated.
"Do you mean to say I should like my cousin because he is my cousin?"
"No, but some feelings of respect and tolerance must exist between relatives," was Darcy's opinion. As he spoke the words he realised this might be a bit much to ask.
"Perhaps you would not believe me, Mr Darcy, but I have more feelings of respect and tolerance for you than for my cousin," exclaimed Elizabeth utterly vexed.
Darcy wished to take this as a compliment, but he feared it was more of an insult. He was silent. He was used to being respected, but tolerated was a concept that he had never associated with himself before.
"Are you now insulted?" Elizabeth inquired.
"Er, no."
"Well, good, because it was not my intention to insult you, only my cousin."
But if it was an insult to be considered even lower than Mr Darcy, then what was Mr Darcy worth in her eyes? "Let me take that back," he said suddenly.
"What do you want to take back?" She was curious. He had not really spoken any real words, had he?
"That I was not insulted."
"You were insulted?" she asked.
"Yes, I was. You implied that I was just about at the end of the negative end of the scale when it comes to respect."
"Well, you misunderstood me," Elizabeth shrugged. "I did not say I had no respect for you. I merely meant that you would have expected me to have more respect for my cousin, when I do not. I did not say whether I respect you as much as you deserve or not."
"But do you?"
"I will not make any statements about that subject," Elizabeth said tactfully. "I was talking about my cousin."
"And I am talking about me," said Darcy like a stubborn child.
"My, my! How selfish!" she teased. "No, no. I shall not say anything about it."
Ten
Darcy's tongue failed him and that was very frustrating. He wished to know to what extent Elizabeth respected him, but insisting on hearing it would ensure that she lost some of that respect. She would think him childish if he tried.
Elizabeth expected him to question her further and she was puzzled when he did not try. She had come up with such wonderful answers that she could not use now. It was such a pity.
"What do you think of my cousin?" Darcy asked instead. There were only a few topics occupying his thoughts and he could not help voicing one of them, even though he thought it was a very innocent question.
For Elizabeth this question came out of the blue. "Your cousin?" she asked in wonder. "I do not think I have known him for long enough to form a good opinion of him."
"Does it generally take you very long to do that?"
"No, I can usually decide quite soon whether I like someone or not."
"But appearances may be deceptive and people may grow on you."
"Not on me."
"Not on you?" Darcy gave her a doubtful glance. She had spoken with such determination that he wondered if appearances were even more deceptive than he had realised before. She had grown on him, but maybe she had grown too much too soon.
"I do not believe the passing of time will make people nicer."
"Miss Bingley likes no one at first sight," said Darcy to draw some response from Elizabeth. It was interesting that these two ladies held such contrasting opinions.
"And no one will like Miss Bingley at first sight either," she replied with some cattiness.
"But she may grow on people."
"You ought to marry Miss Bingley if you believe that."
Darcy looked away. He did not want to marry Miss Bingley at all. He had not handled this well, it appeared.
Elizabeth felt she had to promote this match. One could not be Mrs Bennet's daughter without occasionally feeling the need to throw two deserving people in each other's way. She lightly skipped ahead and thrust her arm through Miss Bingley's as if they were great friends. "Miss Bingley!"
"Yes?" Miss Bingley looked rather disturbed by this intrusion on her private thoughts, for she had been thinking and not talking to the Colonel who walked beside her. He had been talking to his horse, something she had some very well-defined thoughts about, but Elizabeth now made sure they walked in front of the Colonel, which was a good thing.
"Mr Darcy just told me he agreed with you on a fundamental issue."
"Oh?" Miss Bingley's interest was piqued. "Please call me Caroline." She was in a good mood now.
"He said you and he are both of the opinion that people may grow on you."
"People must grow on me," Caroline corrected. "Except Colonel Fitzwilliam," she added as an afterthought. "He cannot."
"Is that because the first impression he makes is invariably favourable?" Elizabeth asked.
"Oh!" Caroline looked appalled and she lowered her voice immediately. "I can tell you things, Elizabeth..."
"Oh! Do tell me, Caroline...is it about the Colonel?"
"Well, we were talking about him."
"What can you tell me?"
"I can tell you so much, but I am not sure I should."
"Yes, you should," Elizabeth urged her. "What is it about the Colonel?"
"He...is...awful," Caroline said in an emphatic whisper.
"Awful?" It was Elizabeth's turn to look appalled now and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder at the awful man.
"Don't look!" Caroline begged her quickly. "He will know we are talking about him."
"He is talking to his horse." Elizabeth had seen that much in her quick glance.
"That is what I mean! He is awful!"
"It is a bit strange, certainly, but I would not call it awful..."
"Oh, that is not half of what I could tell you," Caroline assured her.
"I should be disappointed if it were half!"
"There is more. Prepare yourself for the worst."
Elizabeth prepared herself and awaited Caroline's confidences with bated breath. "Yes?"
"He pretends to like everyone when he doesn't!"
"Capital offence," Elizabeth nodded. "I do value honesty."
"Indeed! He will flirt with me incessantly when he hates me and he has no intention of ever courting me. Do you know what I mean?" Caroline shuddered.
"Oh, yes! I know the sort!" Elizabeth said eagerly. "They go after everything in a skirt."
"Except old women," Caroline giggled.
"Well, old women with money can be very attractive too...just like old men with money, wouldn't you agree?" Elizabeth was certain Caroline would agree.
"I prefer young men with money."
"Do you? Money is useful, I agree."
"The Colonel doesn't have any money. He squanders it all," Caroline said confidentially.
"I so dislike men who squander money."
"Yes, well, he cannot even afford good lodgings when he is travelling, because he spends all his money on other things. He told me so himself. He goes from friend to friend, instead of renting rooms."
"That is really..."
"And I have more! He accepts presents from women!"
"Does he!" That was incredibly shocking.
"Yes! I asked him once where he had got his gloves and he said 'a lady' and he winked at me."
"And he is not married?"
"No, of course not! Who would have such a rake?" Caroline could not imagine it.
"Not me," said Elizabeth, although the Colonel was utterly charming. He was probably a charming rake. She had read about the type and she had always known she would recognise one if she saw him. "Oh, he sounds so much like Armando. Have you read about him?"
Caroline happened to have read the book that featured the charming rake Armando. "I could not agree with you more!"
"It is really so unrealistic how Fredericia manages to civilise him in the end." Elizabeth shook her head. "Romances are just so very unrealistic, aren't they? I wonder if there are people who take them seriously at all."
"Oh, not me! I read about one a year and that is quite enough for me."
Eleven
The ladies were under the assumption they could speak freely about Colonel Fitzwilliam if they called him Armando, but as is often the case, they were mistaken in their assumption that gentlemen did not read novels featuring Armandos.
However, fortunately it was not the Colonel himself who had such despicable tastes in reading, but Darcy. He was currently on page 194 of said novel and the bulge in his coat betrayed that he was carrying it with him at that very moment. He heard the ladies mention Armando, but he did not interfere, curious as he was about their opinion of his cousin. He was not the type to acknowledge their words if they were so obviously pretending they were speaking in a low voice. He wondered why ladies always raised their voice if they were trying to whisper. He supposed they were trying to let the gentlemen know they were talking about something confidential, yet for some unfathomable reason they also wished the gentlemen to become curious about this confidential subject.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was still speaking to his horse as if he had no clue he was being discussed. "Yes, Juno."
"Sorry?" Darcy asked. He had been listening to the ladies' opinion on rakes and he had heard his cousin mumble beside him, but this had sounded louder, so he wondered if by any chance it had been directed at him.
"Juno."
"No, I don't."
"Huh?"
"What?"
"Why are you answering for my horse?" the Colonel asked.
"I thought you were talking to me."
"Why should I? The only time you answer me is when I speak to my horse."
"Shut up," Darcy said amiably. They always had such conversations and he was used to them. He was glad his cousin had come. He had been longing for a real, meaningless chat.
"Juno and I think you are a little preoccupied. Which lady has captured your fancy?"
"Why does it have to be a lady?" Darcy asked. Look at his cousin, for example! He appeared to be captured by his horse.
Colonel Fitzwilliam guffawed. He decided not to state the obvious. "Because, Darcy, you are usually not very eager to escort them home and if you do escort them, you usually walk beside them and not behind them." He glanced at the ladies and studied them from behind. "I should think!" he added, to disguise his opinion on walking behind ladies. Perhaps Darcy had a point in walking here. One could observe them much better.
"You should think! Exactly!"
But if Darcy walked here in order to study them, he was interested, which was interesting. "I am not wrong, I am not wrong!" the Colonel sang.
"And you and Gertrude?"
"Or you and Gertrude. You never want to say anything definite."
Precisely why they called Caroline Gertrude, they did not know. It had come about once. "Definitely not," said Darcy. "You can have her."
"Who is Gertrude?" asked Caroline, turning around interestedly.
"A horse," Fitzwilliam was quick to reply.
"That is a stupid name for a horse."
"For a woman too," Darcy remarked.
"What is his obsession with horses?" Caroline inquired of him with a slight, condescending nod at the Colonel.
The Colonel answered before Darcy could. "Eventually a man reaches a certain age..." he began.
"You will never reach that certain age, for you are stuck in your childhood."
"That is a bold statement, Miss Caroline."
"Did I give you permission to address me as such?" Miss Caroline! She was not a little girl.
"No, but do I need it? Cute little children get away with anything." He smiled charmingly, hoping she would not be able to walk backwards and trip over a branch and fall, so he could help her up, but apparently she was used to walking backwards.
"I should think you need permission!" she said a little indignantly. "I never even told you it was my name!"
It amazed Colonel Fitzwilliam how Caroline could always set herself up for a fall so perfectly. All he would need to do was give her a little push and there she would go. "There are certain things I do not have to be told," he said with a mysterious smile. "You did not have to tell me either that you were a troublesome girl, yet I know that too."
Elizabeth gasped for Caroline's sake. If Darcy said that to her, he would have been sorry, very sorry indeed. But Darcy had not said it and a glance at him revealed that he was amused and obviously taking sides with the Colonel. She blushed angrily.
"And you are a troublesome old fellow," Caroline told the Colonel calmly.
He threw back his head and laughed. "I shall not deny that. I do my best to be bothersome, you see." He laughed some more. "But how could I be old and still stuck in my childhood?"
"I do not think I should trouble the others with my thoughts about you," Caroline hissed. "But if you would like to step ahead with me, I shall acquaint you with my feelings."
"Careful, wood burns," said Darcy. He would rather not be caught in a forest fire.
Nobody understood him, except his cousin, who gave him a strange look. "You are seeing too much, Darcy."
No, he was not. Darcy pulled a stubborn face. "May I advise you not to step ahead with Miss Bingley?"
"It is very noble of you that you want to spare your cousin," Caroline said sharply. "But he shall not be getting any more than he deserves."
"I would rather not be hit by flying objects, Miss Bingley," Darcy said politely. "And certainly not from two directions."
"Two directions?" she asked.
"Yes. I do not think that everything you will throw at Fitzwilliam will end up against his head. That is one. Furthermore, Miss Bennet also looks as if she has a bone to pick with me. I do not think you ought to leave us alone."
"Are you afraid of me, Mr Darcy?" Elizabeth cried.
"Certainly."
"In that case I should walk with Miss Bennet," the Colonel decided. "Unless Miss Bennet finds fault with me too?" He looked at her questioningly.
She blushed, taken aback by the directness of the question. "Er..."
"What? No immediate denial?" He raised his eyebrows mockingly.
"You are expecting me to be impolite!"
"Everyone else here is already being impolite," he shrugged. "Miss Caroline began."
Caroline dug her nails in Elizabeth's arm and let out a heartfelt groan. "I should really like to kill that man," she said so softly that only Elizabeth could hear it.
Elizabeth pitied her for once. She liked the Colonel, but he was awfully cruel to Caroline. "I shall take his arm and think of a way we can punish him for his behaviour, alright?" she whispered.
Colonel Fitzwilliam watched them with narrowed eyes. He did not trust them at all, but he assumed the sentiment was mutual. However, he could outdo one lady, but two ladies together were a completely different kettle of fish.
Elizabeth stepped forward. "I shall walk with you, Colonel, but if you do not behave, I shall introduce you to my mother," she said with a sweet smile.
Colonel Fitzwilliam cast a look at Darcy to gauge how afraid he should be. Judging by Darcy's expression he ought to be very afraid indeed. He had better behave. That was not as impossible for him as it appeared at first sight, though. Some people just brought out the worst in him.
Twelve
Elizabeth chatted agreeably to the Colonel until they reached Longbourn. She was embarrassed to find her mother inspecting a hedge just next to the front gate.
"Oh Jane! Lizzy!" Mrs Bennet feigned surprise. She stared at Colonel Fitzwilliam with obvious curiosity.
Elizabeth felt compelled to introduce the gentleman to her mother. The Colonel was all politeness -- signing his own death warrant unknowingly -- but she still cringed at seeing her mother's reaction. There was such a marked contract between Mrs Bennet's attitude to the Colonel and Bingley, and the way she ignored Darcy and Caroline. Surely the Colonel had to notice as well that her manners left something to be desired.
"You must come in!" Mrs Bennet squealed and screamed for a servant to take care of the Colonel's horse. Despite the gentleman's protests that he was not fit to enter a sitting room, he was dragged in. He got the best seat too and Darcy and Caroline were not invited to sit.
They invited themselves and Elizabeth was almost too ashamed to sit down next to them, because she could hear their unspoken thoughts. "I apologise," she said. They could talk about it easily, because Mrs Bennet was too busy to attend to them.
"It's not your fault," said Darcy almost inaudibly.
Elizabeth was stunned by this display of sympathy. She gaped at him with her mouth open. Could he be realising she was not to be blamed for her mother's behaviour?
"My cousin has that effect on women," he explained.
"Guhh!" escaped from Caroline's throat. It sounded rather derisive, as if Darcy was crediting Colonel Fitzwilliam with just a little too much attractiveness.
"I know. Not on you," Darcy said patiently and a throaty snort escaped him now.
"Darcy!" Caroline slapped his knee with a little venomous slap.
Elizabeth watched in shocked fascination. In the circles she moved in, people might not be rich, but at least ladies stayed clear of gentlemen's knees, however tempted they might feel.
"I am not hurting him; do not worry," said Caroline when she caught Elizabeth's stare. "You would not allow me, would you?" She explored this new idea that had just occurred to her and her eyes began to gleam.
Elizabeth was going to say something about the better manners of people in the country, but a glance at her mother told her this would not be a convincing argument. "I don't know. I would not hurt him, but he has not done anything to upset me."
"Really?" Caroline's eyebrows shot up mockingly. "I heard Mr Darcy gives offence wherever he goes..."
"I do not," Darcy protested.
"You told me the people around here were not of enough consequence for you..."
Darcy coloured. "You misinterpreted me," he said stiffly.
"And I'm sure I'm not the only one, from what I've gathered." Caroline gave Elizabeth a meaningful look. She leant back in satisfaction and crossed her arms, directing her gaze at Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was being grilled by Mrs Bennet about the whereabouts of several colonels who had retired long before he was even born.
"How old do you think I am, Mrs Bennet?" they heard him say and they saw him bend forward with an expression on his face that was both wicked and innocent.
"Oh Lord," Darcy muttered when Mrs Bennet erupted in high-pitched giggles. "Go and save that woman, Caroline," he said with a nudge into his neighbour's ribs.
"What, me?" Caroline did not look eager. "Why?" She did not see why she had to have any compassion for Mrs Bennet.
Well, that was something Darcy could not explain in words, because it would embarrass him. Mrs Bennet was about to make an enormous fool of herself, thereby embarrassing Elizabeth and he could not allow that. His cousin had to be stopped. "Because I say so."
"Why should I do what you say?"
"Because you ought to."
Both Elizabeth and Caroline stared at him now. "You cannot seriously think that!" Caroline exclaimed. "Elizabeth, what do you say?"
"I am appalled."
"Come," Caroline decided. "We shall leave Darcy and his authoritative attitude." She looked around herself, but all seats were occupied. Country sitting rooms were so incredibly small. "Do you have any other place where we can sit?"
Elizabeth could not immediately think of one, but she did not want to give the impression that their house was very small. "Yes, we shall relocate. Have fun on your own, Mr Darcy."
Darcy was never quite fast enough verbally to give a proper reply, so he merely gaped and watched them retreat. He watched the door for a few minutes to see if they childishly reappeared, but they did not.
Elizabeth paused in the hall. "Er..." There were not many places to go in this house, except the library. Perhaps they could bore her father for a while. He never minded if she came, but she did not know what he would think of Caroline. "We shall go into the library," she decided.
Mr Bennet looked up briefly to see who was disturbing him. "Ladies...?" he said, inviting his daughter to explain this unwanted visitor.
"We have fled," Elizabeth explained, taking a seat. She gestured for Caroline to sit down as well. "The gentlemen in there are very stupid."
Mr Bennet considered her carefully. "I was not aware that there were any gentlemen in the house." There never were -- only ever flocks of women, everywhere he went. Where had these gentlemen come from?
"Three gentlemen."
"And they are all stupid?" he inquired. He was inclined to agree, since most people were stupid.
Both young ladies nodded vigorously.
"Whose suitors are they?" They had to be somebody's suitors, why else would they venture into Longbourn?
"Jane's."
"All three?" Mr Bennet only knew of Bingley.
"No, I mean there is Bingley and he has brought two friends who are nobody's suitors," Elizabeth emphasised, to make that absolutely clear.
"Because they are stupid," Mr Bennet nodded understandingly. It was perfectly clear.
Both ladies nodded again.
Mr Bennet rubbed his temples. "So, let me see...we've got Jane, Bingley, Mrs Bennet and two extra gentlemen?" He could imagine what that would be like.
"Yes, Papa."
"I think I shall skip dinner," he said, returning his attention to his book.
Thirteen
Mr Bennet could not for the life of him imagine why two gentlemen would willingly subject themselves to Mrs Bennet's company. He concluded that they were strangers. It was not one of his priorities to pay any courtesies to strangers, he decided. Politeness dictated that he quit his shelter to greet Mr Bingley, really, but only if Bingley were actually accompanied by Darcy -- only if there was a chance that they could outnumber the females. Bingley was nearly a woman himself at times, so that was no help.
But now Mr Bennet was stuck here with two girls. He glanced at them. They were talking quietly, which was good. Perhaps he could go on reading as if they were not there. He recognised Elizabeth's companion as Miss Bingley, a strange thing considering that Elizabeth had never spoken favourably of her, but as a student of female follies Mr Bennet was not too surprised by it.
His peace did not last very long, for an agitated Mrs Bennet breezed into his study. "Yes...Mrs Bennet, isn't it?" he inquired.
Mrs Bennet had no time for jokes. She waved impatiently. "Oh, Mr Bennet!"
He surmised she was about to tell him something she deemed of great importance and he braced himself. There was a tiny chance that he might disagree. "I am glad you recognise me still."
Mrs Bennet began to speak to him in a low and excited whisper. "You must assist me to secure those three gentlemen! I cannot have you sit here!"
His wife was undoubtedly phrasing things somewhat clumsily, but Mr Bennet chose not to interpret her correctly. "Three gentlemen, Mrs Bennet?"
"Yes!"
"You wish to secure three gentlemen?"
"Yes!"
"For which purpose, may I ask?"
Mrs Bennet thought this was very obvious and she stared at him in annoyance. "Do not stall! You must come at once."
"You are only allowed to secure one gentlemen," he reminded her. "Not three."
She was not in the mood for distractions. "Mr Bennet, do I have to explain to you again that if there is a chance, you must grab it? You cannot sit here and allow this opportunity to pass!"
Mr Bennet did not see why not. He glanced at the pages of his book again and contemplated the situation. "Do you wish to marry another man, my dear? And must I assist you in making the choice?" he asked. "I thought it was forbidden."
"Oh!" she said in frustration. "Do I have to remind you that we have three daughters?"
"Their screaming and squealing reminds me of that all too often, but I have always been under the assumption that there were five of them."
"But there are only three gentlemen," Mrs Bennet said logically.
"Ah." Mr Bennet recognised this as a prime example of the way his wife's mind functioned. "But what does that have to do with me?"
"You must come to secure them."
"You just said you wanted to secure them."
"For the girls." Mrs Bennet sighed. It was so obvious. She did not understand why he could not follow her. "For all those books you read you are remarkably stupid."
"I do not read books about matchmaking, Mrs Bennet."
"I shall buy you a few, because we have five daughters."
"I do not see why you keep stressing the fact that we have daughters if you are so eager to get rid of them." Mr Bennet looked puzzled. He enjoyed the expression of pure frustration that came over his wife's face. "Besides, how on earth would it help our daughters if their suitors were exposed to you and me?"
"Are you implying something, Mr Bennet?" Her voice rose slightly and Elizabeth gave them a look of concern. She had not been able to hear anything, but she had gathered that her mother was trying to get her father to do something he did not want to do.
"Not at all," Mr Bennet said quickly, before a crisis would ensue. He glanced at Elizabeth and then back at his wife. "Pray tell me for whom you have destined those three gentlemen?" Something told him Elizabeth was unwilling to be a victim of her mother's matchmaking plans.
"Jane and two others. That is why you must come. You must see them too before we can determine that."
"I don't want to determine anything. Some of my daughters are perfectly capable of determining such things for themselves."
"One is a colonel." That would tell him how important this was.
"Then I shall have to request him to leave," Mr Bennet said amiably. As he had expected, this shocked Mrs Bennet so much that she had no reply. "I once said I would not have any officers in my house, unless my family had proved themselves capable of keeping their wits about themselves in the presence of an officer on at least three separate occasions."
"I shall not attempt to argue with you anymore," Mrs Bennet huffed. Only then did she notice Elizabeth. "What are you doing here, girl? We have visitors."
"That is why I am here."
"Your father does not like to be disturbed by women. Leave him alone."
"I am not disturbing him," Elizabeth protested. She wanted to know what her parents had been discussing.
"You cannot leave it up to Jane and Lydia to entertain our visitors."
Lydia? Where had Lydia come from so suddenly? Lydia and Kitty had been butchering some piece of fabric with a friend. Elizabeth stared at her mother in horror. Jane would be engrossed by Bingley, which left Lydia in sole charge. Her youngest sister could not be trusted with officers. She would be making an exceptional fool of herself. "I...I shall come directly, Mama," Elizabeth said hurriedly. She had better control the damage Lydia was no doubt inflicting. "Come, Caroline." They stood up. "I am sorry to leave you, Papa."
"He is not sorry to see you leave," Mrs Bennet interjected.
"But you understand, don't you?" Elizabeth asked.
Mr Bennet gave her an inquisitive look. Yes, he understood, but he doubted that they were interpreting the situation in the same way. "Wouldn't there be some kind of justice in exposing three stupid gentlemen to Lydia? Why should anyone care what three stupid gentlemen think of our family?"
That was more than Elizabeth could grasp at that moment. It sounded too simple. "It is more complicated than you think."
"So I see," he replied enigmatically, returning his attention to his book. "So I see." Everything was more complicated than he thought, even Mrs Bennet. She was getting nearly all she wanted and he did not know if it was pure luck or clever manipulation.
Fourteen
"Your sister must be thrilled to have a colonel in the house," said Caroline. "Perhaps we should not spoil her little party." She could imagine what was happening. The Colonel would get what he deserved, she thought gleefully.
"She never has little parties. They are usually loud and big." Lydia could not be quiet and polite. She had to be loud and unmannered. Elizabeth was expecting the worst.
"Even better." Colonel Fitzwilliam would regret his attitude. Perhaps he would finally see he was annoying.
"We cannot expose our guests --" Elizabeth began.
"Why not?" Caroline saw no moral problems.
"They are not your guests, so it is not for you to say whether we can expose them or not."
"I know them better than you do. They love being exposed," Caroline said in a convincing tone.
It took too long to Mrs Bennet's tastes. "Why are you stalling?" she whispered urgently. "Go, go, go!"
Elizabeth and Caroline followed her back into the sitting room. As soon as the door had opened they had realised things were well on their way to getting out of hand. Lydia was giggling uncontrollably and hitting Colonel Fitzwilliam, saying "you bad man!"
Mrs Bennet, instead of reprimanding her youngest, looked interested. "What did he do?"
"Please do not flatter him by asking," Caroline groaned. She felt she had the power to salvage the situation if she sat next to Colonel Fitzwilliam, to undo any of his dubious remarks right away.
The Colonel looked quite pleased with all this female attention. He beamed. "We bad men are not proud of it, ladies. Therefore we shall not reveal the exact extent of our badness."
"Could you possibly say anything more meaningless?" Caroline asked sarcastically.
Elizabeth stood watching it indecisively. If Caroline had taken it upon herself to rein in the Colonel, she could concentrate on making excuses to Darcy, who must be thinking he had ended up in a house of horrors. Perhaps he also thought she was to blame for her family's behaviour. She sat down next to him. "Would you care to talk about books?" she asked politely, after racking her brains for a suitable topic.
"To tell you the truth, Miss Bennet," Darcy replied. "I would much rather read a book than talk about them." He still had a book in his pocket.
"Oh." She hesitated. "In company?"
"I never care very much whether I am in company."
"Oh. Not even when you are visiting?"
"Except when I am visiting, but this is an exception."
"Why?"
"We are not really being treated as visitors, Miss Bennet," Darcy said humorously.
"You are not?" Elizabeth was ready to defend the Bennets' way of receiving visitors. She looked at him challengingly.
"Calm down!" He had known she would react to that and he was amused.
She clenched her teeth. "I am calm."
"No, you are not. I can see it in your eyes."
"What business do you have looking into my eyes?" Elizabeth demanded.
Darcy was nonplussed. Really, what kind of answer could a man give? "I am sure everyone looks into your eyes." She had pretty eyes, but if he said so, she would be awful to him.
"No, they do not!"
He shrugged. "Then they are stupid."
"Mr Darcy, I am sure you are vexing me on purpose. Please desist."
"I am not vexing you."
Elizabeth's eyes blazed. "Are you telling me I do not know when I am being vexed?"
Darcy watched in fascination. He enjoyed the experiment. How could he keep her eyes ablaze? "You do not know yourself as well as you think you do. I am not vexing you, so you have no valid reason to feel vexed."
"Are you telling me you know me better than I know myself?" She told herself Mr Darcy was an arrogant fool. Who did he think he was? Just because he had an estate! She hated that attitude. It did not give him any right to say such things about her. He knew nothing.
"I know you pretty well," he said calmly.
"I do not think so!"
"I think I do." This was the evidence: he knew exactly what to say to rile her. Was that not proof enough?
"That does not give you the right to look into my eyes and conclude all kinds of things about me!"
"You should not let your eyes speak in that case." He was letting his own eyes speak as well, but apparently she was deaf and blind, because she kept taking him seriously.
"Eyes do not speak."
"Oh yes, they do."
"And what do they say?" she demanded.
"Nothing you do not already know if you know yourself so well," Darcy said indifferently. He took his book from his pocket. "But very well, if you do not wish me to look at you, I shall continue reading. I shall not be bothering you anymore. I wish I could leave, but we must wait for Bingley to finish gaping at your sister." Soon he was engrossed in the story again.
Fifteen
Elizabeth thought Darcy was a strange fellow. She felt a little insulted that he preferred his book over her, but she realised that the only way to block out the rest of the room was indeed to start reading. She felt under the pillows on the sofa and extracted a book.
Colonel Fitzwilliam saw them and did not understand why anyone should prefer to read a book. Life itself was more fascinating than the written word. One had the opportunity to steer life, he thought, and it would not be clear how it was going to end. Or, if it was clear, it was amusing exactly for that reason. There were certain things he was sure would rile Caroline and that was funny. It was very hard to say something meaningless, but he was giving it his best try.
"You have no sense at all," Caroline told him.
"Really? None at all? None whatsoever?"
"None."
"But that is not possible."
"I think it is." She knew he had no sense at all. There could be no discussion about it.
Colonel Fitzwilliam saw Lydia was beginning to look like a pouting fish, not unlike his aunt Lady Catherine when she could not have a say in the conversation. Senseless though this may be, it was far beyond Lydia's abilities to join in. He smiled.
"I don't understand," Lydia whined. She shot Caroline a venomous look for stealing away the Colonel's attention. She might not understand what they were talking about, but she had a fine intuition when it came to matters of attraction and at the moment the Colonel was more interested in that despicable Miss Bingley. Why? She did not understand.
"That is because he does not make sense," Caroline told her.
"But you understand me," he said, with a sideways glance at her.
"You are so shallow. Understanding you is quite a feat, I'm sure. To be proud of it would not be very modest."
"Have you taken to insulting me now?" the Colonel inquired.
"Now? No."
"What do you mean?"
"I have always been doing that," she said calmly.
"Oh. Why?" Somehow it stung him -- just a little, for negative attention was always better than no attention at all and positive attention would surely bore him. He got too much of that elsewhere and he should take care it did not go to his head.
"You have always been asking for it."
"Have I?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, as if he did not know she was correct.
"I disagree!" Lydia cried. "Miss Bingley, I think you are very severe on the poor Colonel!"
"The poor Colonel?" Caroline repeated mockingly. "Ooh ooh! If there is any adjective that is not applicable to him it is poor!"
"What's an adjective?" Lydia asked.
Caroline blinked at this question. "I beg your pardon?" Had the girl had no education at all?
"Colonel, what's an adjective?" Lydia pressed.
"Well, something like...stupid?" he suggested.
"Yes, of course it's stupid," Lydia said irritably. "But what does it mean? I am sure Miss Bingley likes to use words we don't know in the country just to show us we are not fashionable." Miss Bingley was conceited enough for it.
Colonel Fitzwilliam dug his nails into his trousers. He inhaled deeply. "Ahem." Even he could be rendered speechless.
"The world is rather dull without adjectives," said Caroline.
"They do improve the mood at a party," Colonel Fitzwilliam agreed, guessing which direction Lydia's thoughts would take after Caroline's remark. He was not loath to encourage her.
"What are they?" Lydia cried. She already foresaw herself stealing the show at some ball with those adjectives. She would be the centre of attention. A dreamy expression came over her face.
"Now Colonel, I must interrupt," Caroline decided. She would do a good deed for once. It was unlikely that Lydia could be humiliated, but the Colonel could have far too much fun at the girl's expense. She could join him, but she could also be a responsible woman and make him stop.
There was a rather insistent note in her voice and he looked at her. "Must you?"
"I must."
"I am not sure..."
"Stop. Now," she articulated quite clearly.
"May I remind you that you have been participating just as actively?"
"Stop. Now."
"Don't point your finger at me," he complained. There was no arguing with the woman, was there? He dreaded to think what was in store for him if he ignored her command. Caroline was a dangerous woman.
"I am not pointing my finger," Caroline said somewhat guiltily. It had happened unconsciously. She clasped her hands so her finger would not stray again.
"You held up your finger in my direction. Is that not pointing?"
Somehow she could not lend her words the same amount of force if she clasped her hands and her finger was raised again. "Colonel --"
"Finger!" he pointed with a mocking grin.
She was in company, Caroline reminded herself and suppressed the urge to give Colonel Fitzwilliam what he deserved. A colour of irritation spread over her cheeks. "Will you stop, Fitzwilliam? And take your pick of negative adjectives!"
"They would be a compliment," he countered. "If you really want to insult me, you should say you love me."
Her mouth fell open. "Incredible! Your vanity really has no limits at all, does it? I wonder that you actually have the nerve to use love and me in the same sentence! They bite each other!"
"I said love me, not love you." The Colonel gave her a look of mock horror. He saw they had lost Lydia again. Excellent.
"That is what I said."
"No, you said me and if you say me, you mean you."
"I meant you."
"But you said me."
"You know I meant you!"
"But you did not say it." He was aware that he was testing the limits of her patience, but he admitted to being too curious.
Caroline stood up. "Charles, would you not agree it is time to leave?" she called to her brother. She caught Colonel Fitzwilliam's glance and felt compelled to say something. "You did not win. I did."
"If that makes you feel better," he said condescendingly. "Gentlemen will always grant a lady the honour of the victory, however little she deserves it." He stood up as well. "Are we leaving then, Bingley?"
"We?" Caroline was ready to scream. Was he coming with them? Was she supposed to extend any hospitality to this man?
"Well, you have to admit that if I use we, you cannot accuse me of using me instead of you," he said with a patronising smile. "We, as you know, encompasses us both."
"I would rather not be encompassed by anything together with you."
Colonel Fitzwilliam raised his hands. "I cannot help it that we means you and me, but if it makes you feel better, we means you, me and whoever else we like to include in our little group. You need not be alone with me."
"What is going on here?" Darcy had closed his book upon seeing them on their feet. He gathered they wanted to leave, but he also gathered they were having some kind of argument.
"Miss Bingley feels quite nervous about the personal pronoun we. She feels I should not be included in it."
"It is revolting," said Caroline. "It upsets me."
"You two --" Darcy began. There was not a Bennet in the room who could follow what was going on. He only saw incomprehension and confusion all around. It was time to get these two fools out of this house and into the woods where they might bicker freely. Perhaps they would hold him responsible if this madness continued here.
"Ooooh, she is not going to like that pronoun either," the Colonel said with an ominous chuckle. "Do you mean me and her, Darcy? Just me and her?"
Darcy sent Bingley a commanding glance. He ought to take Caroline out of here. To his great relief Bingley understood, for he linked his arm through his sister's and spoke some soft words to her. He began to take his leave of the Bennets himself, as politely as he had never done before. It was not that difficult, he found to his own surprise.
When they were finally outside and sufficiently clear of Longbourn, Darcy halted. "Listen. I do not care what will happen, but Bingley, you will now come with me and we shall leave these two together. I am sick of the two of you. Bingley, if you will not say they are not allowed back into Netherfield before they can behave, I will say it. I shall personally turn you two out of the house if you persist in misbehaving and yes, I mean you and you." He glared at Caroline and Colonel Fitzwilliam alternately. "Perhaps, as your cousin, I have more rights to berate you, Fitzwilliam, but oh would I like to give Caroline a piece of my mind as well!" Caroline was looking rather subdued, but his cousin was not.
"Don't we all," Colonel Fitzwilliam muttered. "What has come over you, Darcy? You are rather...excited. Are you in love?"
"Let's go, Bingley," Darcy said with a glare. "Now!"
Sixteen
"Was this a wise move?" asked Bingley, glancing over his shoulder as they walked away rapidly. Well, Darcy was racing away from Colonel Fitzwilliam and Caroline, and Bingley was only trying to keep up.
Nothing could have been wiser, Darcy thought. "Of course. We got rid of them."
"But this will end in chaos." Bingley felt concerned. One of them or neither might come home.
"Listen, Bingley. Taken separately they can be annoying, but they are bearable. Together they are insufferable. Let them be eaten." Darcy would not wait for them.
"Come, Darcy!" Bingley cried. "Eaten? I specifically looked for an estate with no scary animals because Caroline asked me to. I rented Netherfield under the express condition that there were no strange animals in the neighbourhood to frighten my sister."
"Your sister in her current mood will frighten the most scary animal away."
Colonel Fitzwilliam left the path and walked off in another direction. He trusted in his infallible male sense of direction to bring him where he needed to be. He could not go back down the path or follow Darcy, so this was his only choice, but he was confident that he would end up at Netherfield anyhow. If anyone should be able to find his way, it had to be a military man.
Caroline was not so sure. Apart from feeling a little insulted that he left her, she also wanted to point out that he was going the wrong way, in case he had not noticed he had left the path. "Where are you going?" she called after him.
"Away from everyone!"
"Nobody is ever going to see you again if you go that way."
"Perfect." He expected Caroline to follow him, but she did not. Perhaps she disliked stepping over branches. She walked on down the path the direction Darcy and Bingley had gone in. He went after her, feeling a little gentlemanly concern for her safety, not that he seriously believed she could be frightened by anything worse than a rabbit.
She turned and walked back as soon as he caught up with her. This happened a few times and it took long enough for Darcy and Bingley to have disappeared from sight. Caroline did not really know the way on her own. She had planned to follow them, but now she was stuck with Colonel Fitzwilliam, whom she did not want to be stuck with.
"Why do you keep running from me?" he asked finally.
"Do you have to ask?" She began to run when he followed her again. As she stepped on a branch by accident, the other side of it went up and the Colonel tripped over it. She heard him cry out, but she did not stop to look back until she was further away. She realised he ought to have caught up with her already and she stopped running. No, he was not following her anymore, but he was sitting on the ground some distance back.
Caroline shrugged and walked on. She would not fall for games. After a few minutes she glanced back and the Colonel had not got up yet. This was strange. She stood watching for a while and saw him try to get up, but he could only limp and he let himself fall down again. Was this an act? She was too far away to shout at him and to walk back was something she was too proud for. Suppose he was acting. In that case he would laugh at her and that would be humiliating.
After a few more minutes she walked back anyway. If he was injured she could not walk on without at least ascertaining the damage. This was the Colonel, so she told herself she would not actually have to do anything about it.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Colonel Fitzwilliam bit back the sharp words he had been thinking about this selfish creature. "I like sitting here. I enjoy the view."
"No, really."
"You will be pleased to know I hurt myself."
"Hurt?" She did not know if she was pleased. It also shocked her.
"I cannot walk."
"Why not?"
"Will you please leave me alone?" he motioned. He had no need for such stupid questions.
"Not if you want me to." Caroline hesitated. He appeared to be in earnest. "Should I get help?"
"Somehow I think you would get lost."
"I would not!" she protested.
Colonel Fitzwilliam raised himself and stood on one foot. His ankle hurt, but he could live with that as long as he did not put his foot on the ground. "I shall limp." He limped a bit. It was going to be a long way to wherever that house was. "We would progress more quickly if I could lean on you."
"You would progress more quickly -- not me," Caroline replied immediately.
The Colonel was dependent on her and so he bit back his sharp comments for the second time. "Can I?" he asked with miraculous patience.
"How would you lean on me?" Caroline asked suspiciously.
He beckoned her and demonstrated it. "Like this? Is this bearable?" He gathered from her unwilling attitude that she would not like it.
"I'll see," she said grudgingly, accepting his arm around her shoulders. She would have to walk with very small steps.
"Where is Netherfield?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked in between sighs and grunts. They had to make some conversation. It would make the trip more agreeable, hopefully.
"I have no clue," Caroline tried to shrug, but there was a heavy weight on her shoulders.
The Colonel stopped limping. "You have no clue?"
She hated to say it, but she also loved it. "No, sorry."
"Then where the devil am I limping to?"
"Ahead," was Caroline's brightest guess. "Although at this precise moment you have stopped."
"Oh well. Let us limp on," he commented. He could not call Caroline's way of moving walking at the moment. They would undoubtedly reach something.
Seventeen
Mr Hurst observed the party that returned to Netherfield and doubted whether two could be called a party. Perhaps he should think of them as a duo. Something was missing -- more specifically, someone was. There should have been three people. While he had once whispered to Darcy to get rid of Caroline, he had not meant this quite as literally as that. Had it been interpreted that way?
Hurst now wondered if he had overestimated Darcy's understanding. Darcy was generally thought to be a clever young man and had obtained excellent results at university, but Hurst had divined long ago that being good at learning things by heart had absolutely nothing to do with being good at learning one's own heart. Therefore Hurst had already had his reservations about Darcy's well-roundedness -- or rather, all-roundedness, he corrected himself hastily. Hurst cursed his wife for influencing his thoughts. He liked to think of himself as a cool, detached gentleman, not given to such inner slips of the tongue and certainly not given to suffer from influences from the female sphere.
But, returning to the situation at hand, he had to conclude that there was certainly something amiss here. Had Darcy got rid of Caroline? That was not what Hurst had intended when he had whispered those instructions. Really, he had simply meant that Darcy should get rid of Caroline's attentions, not of her body and soul. If it had concerned a more sensible man than Darcy, Hurst would not have had such fears. More sensible men would have understood his instructions. Darcy apparently had not.
Hurst knew Caroline well enough to know she would not have remained at Longbourn. In fact, if faced with a hypothetical situation of three people going to Longbourn with only two returning from it, Hurst would immediately have guessed Bingley to be the one to have stayed behind -- not Darcy and most certainly not Caroline. In both cases this was because there were no men at Longbourn. Darcy would prefer men for different reasons -- he was fairly awkward when it came to dealing with females and he fared much better in male company. Caroline also fared better in male company, Hurst mused, but that was because she sensed acutely that most females did not like her at first sight. He wondered why they did not, for most men did. It was only after a while that these impressions were reversed, perhaps.
He told himself not to be so severe on his sister-in-law. The whole fact that he was wondering what had happened to her must mean that he was not indifferent to her fate. If only because he was married to her sister, who would kick some serious trouble. Hurst unobtrusively placed some distance between them in anticipation of his wife's outburst.
"Where is Caroline?" Louisa screeched when she perceived her sister was not there.
"Er..." said Bingley. "I have no idea."
"Charles!" This was uttered as piercingly as one could possibly utter this word.
Hurst looked smug. He had known this would happen and he congratulated himself on having moved out of sight. Now Bingley and Darcy had to bear the brunt of Louisa's distress.
"We left her in the woods. Darcy did it!" Bingley was eager to shift the blame and he looked at Darcy accusingly.
"Caroline would never allow herself to be left in the woods!" Louisa shouted quite accurately. Caroline was afraid of wild animals.
"That's true," Bingley conceded. "I wonder how Darcy succeeded then." He gave his friend a questioning glance.
"We ran away from her," Darcy said with a shrug. "She was being insufferable and Louisa, you needn't worry. She had absolutely no wish to go with us even if we had not run away."
"Of course you would say that! I insist that you go back to find her!"
"Not on my life," Darcy said decidedly. "She is in good company." He sat down calmly. "Can you not tell your wife to calm down, Hurst?"
"Not me," Hurst held up his hands defensively. "I am staying clear of it all."
"It is your fault!" Darcy said with a nod at him. "You did not want to take her. You made her go with us and you knew it would drive us all crazy. Anyway, I do not see why we should make so much trouble about it. She is not alone. We left her in the care of my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam." He knew that was not the best care one could leave a young woman in, but he did not want to bring that up right now for fear of upsetting Louisa any more. "She is quite safe."
Hurst raised his eyebrows. Caroline might be safe, but the poor Colonel would not be. "I have to agree with Louisa, Darcy," he spoke up. Those two had to be found -- and soon.
"You were staying clear of it all, I thought."
"Yes, but I have to reconsider that now. I insist that you and Bingley go back to find them. Is it not so that, considering that we were not expecting Colonel Fitzwilliam here at Netherfield, this is not his destination? Caroline might not arrive here at all."
Thinking about it, Darcy was not entirely sure that his cousin would do Caroline the favour of accompanying her here immediately. They would be up to some of their fighting first, but eventually, since there was very little use for a Caroline in his regiment, Fitzwilliam would have to leave her somewhere. "Well, she might not arrive here soon, but I am sure she will arrive here eventually."
"Eventually? Would that be dead or alive?"
"Alive."
"You do not sound too concerned," Hurst remarked. He had a better idea. "Perhaps you could go back to Longbourn to see if they are there." Bingley would volunteer openly for such a plan, he was sure. Darcy would need a little prodding to admit it, but he would be dying to go as well.
Bingley snapped back to attention. "Longbourn?" He was always looking for excuses to go there, even if he had just left the place, but he had better not sound too eager or else he would become everyone's favourite teasing object again. "Well, we could try, but I'm not sure it will help. What do you say, Darcy? Do we go?"
Darcy looked equally reluctant. "Again? We've just been there. The Bennets will not be happy to see us return, I am sure." But there was a hint of hopefulness in his voice.
"You are not going there to please the Bennets. What they think of you is really not important," Hurst reminded him with a wicked feeling.
Both Darcy and Bingley looked as if they did not agree with that. "Oh, right. Yes," said Darcy automatically.
"How much does Miss Elizabeth rate right now anyway?" Hurst inquired.
"What? Who?" Darcy coloured.
"Not a ten. You would have been more eager to go back for a ten. It must be a four," Hurst gauged. "Maybe less. She is nothing special, is she?"
"What? Who? I have no idea what you are talking about." Darcy's colour deepened. "Bingley, shall we go?" he asked, but Bingley was already on his way.
Eighteen
"Colonel, can you not lean on a stick?" Caroline asked when she had enough of supporting him. He was making it impossible for her to walk normally.
"No, I cannot lean on a stick," Colonel Fitzwilliam replied with infinite patience. He would have liked to say something sharper, but he dared not, for he was still dependent on Miss Bingley's goodwill. "I wish Darcy had not taken my horse. Why did he? Did he know I would hurt my ankle?"
"If I should ever find out that you have been faking..." she said ominously. In that case she would sprain his ankle herself, however this could be done.
The Colonel gave an incredulous half-gasp. "Faking?" he asked with innocent emphasis.
"I know you well enough to know you might indeed come up with the idea to fake an injury, just so you could make my life miserable."
"It does not reflect well on you to doubt an injured man, Miss Bingley." Well, it did, rather, because it meant she knew what kind of man he was, but he did not say so.
"I do not particularly care about that, since you are the only other person present. There is no need for me to be good to you. There is not even any need for me to be good so you could tell others. Your words cannot be trusted, so even if you should report about me truthfully, in all likeliness nobody would believe you."
Colonel Fitzwilliam considered her words reflectively as he limped on. "May I ask if you will report about me truthfully, or is this an impossibility?"
"I shall not report about you at all," Caroline said haughtily. "I have more interesting matters to talk about."
"Indeed! How will you account for your lengthy stay in the woods? You were doing your hair in your room instead?"
She coloured. "Nobody is going to question me about my absence."
"I am sorry to hear nobody cares for you enough to be interested in you, but I cannot say I am surprised. Your attitude..."
Caroline gasped and stopped. "You are...mean."
"Is that really the worst qualification you can come up with? I encourage you to study the dictionary with more zeal, Miss Bingley," Colonel Fitzwilliam said teasingly. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground and he prepared himself for a blow. The enemy was going to attack, but he did not yet know where.
Caroline bent through her knees suddenly and the Colonel lost his balance. She had hoped to get rid of him this way, but it did not quite work. They both fell.
"Wait until I tell my friends about this!" he said with a devilish grin, but he did feel sorry for her a little. Her immaculate gown might now have some dirt on it, not to mention that falling like this could never have been her intention. He admitted to have engineered it a little.
Caroline did not know where to look or how to get up. Colonel Fitzwilliam was lying half over her. "Get off me!"
"I cannot. I am injured." He looked at her very innocently.
"You are not!"
"My dear Miss Bingley. I invite you to take off my boot and examine my ankle. You would soon see that it is swollen."
"I would never take off your boot!" Caroline looked appalled at the suggestion.
"Of course not," he countered and sat up, using his hands to stand up again on one foot. "For you would then see that I am not faking at all! It is more agreeable to keep accusing me of faking, is it not? It is more agreeable to remain blind to the truth. You prefer to go through life with your eyes closed."
"I do not have my eyes closed! I can see perfectly well what a rake you are." Caroline got to her feet again too, but with less ease than the Colonel even though he could only use one foot. She hated that.
"And I can see perfectly well how elegant you are," he said with a chuckle. "I really wish we still had my horse. I would have sat on it and you could have led me, or we could both have sat on it."
"I think not."
Colonel Fitzwilliam limped towards her and leant onto her again to continue their trip.
"Must you?" Caroline asked in annoyance, still busy brushing earth and leaves off her gown and coat.
"Yes, I must. You would not have shared a horse with me?"
"No, of course not. I wonder that you can even ask!" Caroline pushed some very bad thoughts away.
"Do you mean you would prefer to walk?" Fitzwilliam feigned disbelief. "You would walk next to the horse, knowing I could give it the spurs any moment to leave you behind? And I know you well enough to know you would accuse me of planning to do such a thing long before it would actually occur to me."
"I would prefer to walk," Caroline said stiffly.
"You would be respectable and suffering rather than lazy and selfish?" Again he feigned disbelief.
She held her breath, not knowing what to reply.
"Breathe out. Please. You cannot die before we reach Netherfield." Colonel Fitzwilliam was all friendly concern.
"Assuming we shall ever get there," she said pessimistically. It was going to take forever, limping haltingly like this. How far had they got? She was sure that if she looked back she would still be able to see Longbourn.
"We are going the right way."
"How would you know?" she inquired.
He pointed at the ground before them. "A horse has been here."
"Yours is not the only horse in the neighbourhood."
"True." He had forgotten that for a moment. "It did not pass here long ago, however."
"Again, yours might not be the only horse."
Colonel Fitzwilliam stopped and examined the footprints in the sand. "This was Darcy. Look at the distance between two prints. Angry, annoyed, amorous. Very regular, large steps. You would take much smaller steps." He glanced back to check.
"My legs are shorter."
"Oh really?" he asked interestedly. "We can never see how short a lady's legs are because of her gowns, but since you are shorter than Darcy, you probably have shorter legs too. Unless you have a problem with the rest of your body."
Caroline chose not to react to that. "And my brother? He should have walked here too."
Colonel Fitzwilliam studied the path to find Bingley's prints. "My guess is somewhat shorter and more irregular paces."
"Why?" It sounded a bit negative to Caroline and she did not like that. He was speaking about her brother, after all.
"Because he is Bingley -- somewhat shorter and more irregular."
"And your current footprints reflect your character entirely?" His own were likely to be even shorter and even more irregular.
He looked back. "Well, they reflect the state of our acquaintance perfectly." They were stumbling, but going ahead.
"I do not wish to go there," Caroline said primly.
"You may not wish to, but can you stop yourself?"
"I promised myself I would do this last thing for you." She would help him to get home and then she would ignore him.
This last thing? She was only just beginning to do things and she already wanted it to end? It seemed to the Colonel that she was making herself some strange promises. "You have never done anything for me before."
"I have listened to your stupid chattering."
"You should know me better than to think I could only chatter stupidly if someone was listening. You did not really help me there," he said readily. "You were never there, of course, so you could not know that I chatter away even more stupidly if there is nobody there to hear me. I really try to come across more intelligently if I talk to you. It breaks my heart to hear you say I chatter stupidly, because I try so hard."
"I do not really care about your heart."
"Not really? So just a little?"
"Only that because of that little bit of basic kindness that humans were given by default. Some have more of it, but I do not."
"I am glad for it," he said soothingly. "You would have been an unbearable creature if you had been kind."
Caroline looked at him incredulously, not sure whether he was mocking her or not. She suspected that he was, because he always was. She vowed not to speak to him anymore until they reached Netherfield. Then she realised she had already promised herself to ignore him when they reached Netherfield, so this meant she had just spoken her last words ever to him. Really.