Section I, Next Section
- Elizabeth Darcy, née Bennet, and Fitzwilliam Darcy
- Jane Bingley, née Bennet, and Charles Bingley
- Catherine "Kitty" Fawley, née Bennet, and John Fawley
- Lady Caroline Filmont, née Bingley, and Sir Timothy
- Georgiana Curwood, née Darcy, and Dr. John Curwood
- Mary Clayton, née Bennet, and Justin Clayton
- General and Mrs. Richard Fitzwilliam
- Charlotte Collins, née Lucas, and William Collins
List of characters:
Chapter 1
Their children: William and Bennet
Their only child: Elizabeth
Their children: John and Margaret
Their children: Charles, Louisa, Marianne, and Henrietta
Their children: Richard, Henry, and Anne
Their children: Mary, Justine, Rebecca, Ruth, Leah, David, and Jonah
Their children: James and Georgiana
Their children: Lewis, Catherine, and William
Lady Caroline Filmont carried herself in the pompous manner most of those who bore the same title as her did. At five and forty, she had ended climbing up a social ladder that she now ambitioned for her three daughters and son. After a long time pursuing men who did not admire her for what she called her determination, the former Miss Bingley had married an illustrious rich man who saw in her exactly what he wanted. A woman who was interested in leading an incredible social life and who was apt to being the mistress of an extensive estate, a glorious townhouse, and comformed with her wifely duties as she was supposed to, or so he believed. After four healthy children and twenty-three years of marriage, all she had to do was pass her "knowledge" down to her daughters and talk about them with the ladies of her acquaintance in the loud manner a person of her nature would.
After the birth of her youngest child, she and her husband finally came to that silent agreement a locked chamber door usually amounts to. They led their separate lives as they well pleased, with him concentrating on extending their income and she, in raising dutiful children to carry down in honour the family name. In between, Sir Timothy Filmont let her take the matter of making both their houses a social success in her hands, offering parties and glamorous balls that concentrated the finest society of London. Her eldest daughter's engagement celebration was no exception.
So Lady Caroline thought herself shining among her guests that evening, parading both her younger daughters around as if they were dolls and making remarks on how well built her son Charles had grown. The gentleman in question, merely looked discomfited at every unusual word of praise his mother uttered, watching the door as he waited for his friends to arrive with a helpless expression in his eyes. He had every ounce of his Bingley blood showing in his blond curls, blue eyes, and happy disposition, but now he was suddenly having an attack of self-deprecation in thinking his mother too overbearing. He contented himself with smiling at the old ladies shyly, which made him pass for a "good boy" even more.
Sitting alone in a loveseat, hiding her laughter behind a glass of white wine, her only female niece watched her cousin with delighted eyes.
"What are you laughing about?" The soft voice came from a girl of her same stature and age, but with an altogether opposite colouring and mien.
"My cousin Charles." She replied joyously. "Could anyone be more embarrassed?"
The girl turned to ascertain what her companion had been talking about and dropped beside her on the loveseat, careful to arrange her green muslin skirts as she did so. Her friend was contemplating the gentleman's mother with her eyebrows raised in a comical way.
"I wonder what it would be like if Grandmama were friends with Aunt Filmont," she said humorously, "Dr. Curwood would certainly be with his hands full - a whole family with hearing problems."
"Beth!" The other girl cried - not in concern about someone hearing them, for her friend only sharply whispered - but rather with the amount of shock the other's personality often inflicted on someone of her nature. But she could barely keep from laughing herself.
With a giggle, her friend turned to her, her blue eyes glinting mischievously. "You sound like mama. Not only you look like her, which makes me feel I am doomed to envy perfect people for as long as I live, but I am also bound to have to hear you reprimand me for my very keen observations."
The other blushed with the praise received and shook her head. They were so different. But then they also complemented each other. While she lost herself in romantic illusions, the other would put them at bay with a load of sense. But then she would always remind her friend of herself. Beth acts too much on her impulses. Another few more comments coming from her cousin and she was almost choking on giggles.
"Beth, you are hopeless."
"Thank you." The other said with a smile.
Right at that instant, a bustle was heard at the door. Both girls turned to look and watched as several young men piled under the main doorway, the first in line laughingly trying to avoid falling over the footman. They both recognised him and as soon as he saw them, a smile plastered itself on his face. He marched into the room along with the rest of his companions.
"Mr. Bennet Darcy, Mr. William Darcy, Mr. Richard Curwood, Mr. Henry Curwood, Mr. James Fitzwilliam, Mr. John Fawley."
A wave of whispering took place as they entered. Good looking, single, rich, and all belonging to what seemed to be one big family, the gentlemen immediately congratulated the newly engaged couple, sought to greet their hosts, and quickly dispersed into the room. John Fawley was the first to come and greet his youngest sister.
"Margaret!" He called out as both girls stood with the crowd, waiting. He surveyed both her and her companion with a smile and bowed profusely, taking his hand to his heart.
"Miss Fawley, Miss Bingley."
Elizabeth would have slapped Mr. Fawley on the arm for his mocking attempt at formality if he had been her brother or even Bennet Darcy. However, she maintained her composure as she watched her cousin Margaret twist her lips in that modest manner she had of smiling at everything and embraced her elder brother warmly. The expression in Margaret's eyes matched what would have been Elizabeth's playful slap. Even if she restrained herself from so acting, Elizabeth put on her usual air.
"You astound us with your reverence, Mr. Fawley."
"But I do not flatter you. It is a shame indeed." He said.
Another voice quipped in from behind Elizabeth. "A shame it is that you are wasting your charms on your little sister and cousin, Fawley. There are at least fifty ladies in here who would be more than willing to receive your attentions."
Elizabeth whirled around to meet the speaker's bright brown eyes. "And I suppose you refrain from so doing, Mr. Darcy."
Bennet Darcy laughed in that comfortable, cheerful way he had from his days in the cradle. "Absolutely. I see no use of flattering you both, because after all, words would not do your beauty any justice."
He bowed at both of them only to be properly curtsied to and took one hand of each to gently squeeze in his.
"I believe you have been well, both of you. Mama tells me great things. I am sorry, Beth...but Meg, would care to dance?"
Margaret smiled at Bennet with that blushed shyness she had of accepting gentlemanly favours and excusing herself from her other cousin and closest friend, went off to the dance floor.
Again she was at a loveseat, this time watching as dancers whirled by her to the sound of the music coming from the musicians stationed in the corner of the room. Throughout the entire house, the sound of shrilled laughter and gentlemen's voices carried on to the ruffling of skirts and resounding steps of shoes on the marble floor. At times she loved balls more than she loved horse-riding in her parents' estate in Yorkshire merely because the former provided her with the comfort of being able to sit back and watch the other people go by with their idle and trivial conversation imposed by property. Not that she could not attract any partners or did not enjoy dancing for that matter. It was just that she liked to indulge herself as she did now, sitting in blue muslin, gloved hands, and pearled combs. She was aware that she was not the most beautiful girl in that ballroom, but then, she sure was not the plainest.
Every time Elizabeth Bingley looked at her own family portrait that hung on the library in Wragby, she would think herself an anomaly. Not because she was that bad looking, but because placed next to her blond and blue-eyed parents, brown-haired Elizabeth looked like the milkman's daughter. Yes, the dark grey eyes she had had as a baby had developed into a typical Bingley midnight blue, but she had always been the object of questioning. Not only was the daughter of Mr. Charles and Mrs. Jane Bingley drastically different from her parents both physically and in temper, but she had taken eight full years of their marriage to be born. Her mother's frailty after her birth had been so evident that the talk ceased for a good while; but then, never again did Mrs. Bingley appear to be with child.
Now Elizabeth sat there primly as she watched her parents dance. They had aged, of course, but their love had only grown to be more genuine. She had never met two people better suited to one another, only perhaps with the exception of her Aunt Lizzy and her Uncle Darcy. Her parents were equally notable in their attachment, though. Her mother still looked exquisite as she acquired a matronly look after so many years. Her frailty of health - dating from the time Elizabeth had been born - was not apparent unless she was distraught or tired. She was still a demure creature, as sweet as one could be. Her father was the same cheerful person he had always been; good-natured enough to let his only daughter get away with everything. Mr. Bingley had indulged his sole heiress in every way he could from the day she was born. Elizabeth only thought herself miraculously not spoiled because of the moral education her sweet mother had tried to impose on her.
She was smiling contentedly while watching Margaret laugh as Bennet shocked her with some of his absurd jokes when she was suddenly taken out of her reverie by a voice not far away from her.
"Miss Bingley?"
She turned her head to look at a grey-eyed fellow who stood broad-shouldered and tall, shadowing her as she sat on the loveseat. It reminded her of a portrait she had seen at Pemberley of an acquaintance of her parents' - cousin to her Uncle Darcy - who was now a retired General of the Army.
"Mr. Fitzwilliam!"
He stood in front of an aloof, younger version of her uncle, with a broad smile on his face. His companion, however, was for some reason rather sombre, brooding as he regarded his surroundings with a mixture of anger and reluctance. She knew that he and she had never been great friends, but marvelled at his indifference upon seeing her. James Fitzwilliam, on the other hand, showed himself sincerely delighted in remaking her acquaintance.
"Miss Bingley! I was not positively sure if it was you - you have changed since the last time I saw you."
She smiled and tried not to meet her cousin's eyes as they were now set on her. Her reply came in that matter-of-fact humour of hers of glinting eyes and a bright smile.
"Well, I was only eleven years old then. If I had not changed in the slightest, sir, I would have promptly shot myself."
Fitzwilliam laughed and even if she was seven full years older than the last time he had seen her, she felt suddenly young. She always did so near those older, apparently more mature young men that always crowded family gatherings.
"Darcy," he said, turning to his companion, "are you not going to greet your cousin?"
The object of his inquiry was still regarding Elizabeth with his cold eyes and she positively wondered if there was something seriously wrong with herself or if her cousin had left his intelligence in Europe. Maybe he just didn't recognise her; after all, it had been years since they had last seen each other. Time away in Cambridge and the continent on their part had deprived Elizabeth of the company of her elder cousins.
That is absurd! How would he not recognise me? People have told me I look like his mother enough for me to believe in them by now. Well, nothing is new... .
Her lips twitched as she remembered returning to Pemberley manor caked with mud to the core and seeing him stiffly look at her with distinct disapproval written all over his face. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose slightly. Maybe he would have preferred it if I sat "chatting" with the Filmont girls in the parlour instead of corrupting his brother.
She saw him look at James with sarcasm in his eyes. "You need not chide me as if you were one of my elders, Fitzwilliam."
Elizabeth stopped pondering over his ill manners, meeting him full in the eye, and raised one skeptical eyebrow at him as not to jut out her lower lip in anger. She could not believe that her dearest uncle and aunt had erred so much on the upbringing of their heir. However saddened, something in her made her shed humour on the situation and she remained seated, dangling her feet like a little girl, waiting for the other to rebuke to Darcy's proud response to his former teasing. James was looking at him in positive wonder.
"I knew not that you did not appreciate being brought to awareness when you forgot yourself, Will."
William Darcy shot his second cousin an earnest glare and Elizabeth smiled mildly at James, even though her words were directed at his companion.
"Maybe Mr. Darcy does not feel the need to be reprimanded, sir."
He abruptly turned to look at her, but she promptly ignored him. It is certainly not like he addressed me in the first place. Amazingly enough, he continued to glare at her in a most disturbing manner. She decided that his actions had bothered her enough and with that, she lifted herself from the loveseat, picking up her skirts, and curtsying at James.
"I need a refreshment and also to talk with my mother. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Fitzwilliam..."
James bowed. "It was a pleasure, Miss Bingley."
She smiled in return and as she departed, she turned to slightly call out. "By the way, Cousin Darcy, one usually greets a family member when he sees one..."
She turned away before she could see that the sincerely bothered expression on his face turned into clear mortification.
Chapter 2
Elizabeth tore her eyes from the window and looked down at the music sheet before her with a sigh. Were I in Yorkshire I would be out riding or taking a walk by the brook by now. Homesickness was something she often experienced whenever she looked at the paved street underneath her window at the Bingleys' townhouse. Sure she loved the theater and taking grand walks with Margaret, Bennet, and Henry Curwood about London, but nothing could be duller than spending an afternoon with a drawing room full of chattering women. Especially when Lady Caroline and her daughter, Miss Louisa Filmont, were among them.
She had retired to the music room, saying that she needed to practice on her pianoforte, surprising her mother into a puzzled look - for Elizabeth was rather negligent of her music practice. With the music room door ajar, she could clearly hear the sounds coming from the drawing room, while its own door was shut. Her mother's voice could never be heard, but her companions' response was easily distinguished by the louder decibels they possessed.
She bent over the keys and set on practising her Bach to drown the disturbing sound of Louisa's voice; if Lady Caroline had expected to see herself replicated in a human being, she had apparently achieved her goal easily enough. Louisa was petty, simple-minded, talked and acted in a perfect imitation of her mother. Elizabeth only rolled her eyes and pretended complete disregard for any word that came out of the other girl's mouth. Even as little children, she and Elizabeth had never gotten along. Elizabeth was too sunny a child to let Louisa get to her, but as they both matured, so grew the dislike they had for each other. Elizabeth found it hard not having to draw a sarcastic rebuke whenever her cousin was around and it was certainly not like she could help herself - Louisa's snide remarks always had a way to creep under her skin.
"Oh, you've certainly outdone yourself, Bessie." A voice said after she finished the piece with a hesitant last chord.
Only one person called her that and Elizabeth never took the "endearment" kindly.
"Thank you, Louisa. But I was not looking for praise. What made you come out of the drawing room? I thought you were having a wonderful time chatting about the ball with Mother and Aunt Hurst."
Louisa's bright pink afternoon dress rustled as she entered the room and sat herself on a blue-coloured settee.
"It was indeed wonderful, was it not?"
Elizabeth fingered a few keys and inspected her music sheet as to start playing again and let the other know that her presence was not entirely welcome. "Yes, it was."
"I had never danced so much in my life."
"I don't believe you had."
"Marianne looked simply exquisite, did she not? And Mr. Ashton, her fiancé! How charming can a man be!"
"Yes, yes."
"Did you dance quite a lot, Bessie?"
Elizabeth bit her lower lip and managed to mentally tell herself that angering her was exactly what the other girl was looking for. She let out a silent breath and turning to Louisa, she smiled a reply.
"Oh, yes! I had a fabulous time!"
"Whom did you dance with?"
"Bennet, of course. Your brother, Henry and Richard Curwood, Mr. Fawley, and Mr. Fitzwilliam."
"I am sure." The other seemed to acquire a superior air even though she already came along with it. "Did you dance with the eldest Mr. Darcy?"
Elizabeth blinked. "No."
"I did. He is such a marvellous dancer! And so charming and clever. Mama is full of praise for him - she quite approves of him as you can see - says he reminds her of the elder Mr. Darcy when he was younger."
"My uncle? I am afraid both can incredibly look alike, but they are entirely different people." Said Elizabeth, quite shocked with the idea. Her uncle was so nice and warm a person! She was certain he could not be capable of atrocious behaviour like his son.
"Why say you so? I do not believe them different at all!"
Elizabeth, not wishing to comment on her cousin's manners and give the other the pleasure of hearing her being slighted by any sort of man, merely struck a chord or two at the pianoforte and resumed to play like she was playing before. Louisa stayed seated where she, perceived her manners with her eyes narrowed.
"Papa also approves of Mr. Darcy." She said over the resounding music. "He says he is yet going to be one of the greatest masters Pemberley has ever known."
"Indeed!"
"Pemberley is such a fine place, is it not? Linton Park is not half as grand, although I do love my birthplace dearly...and it is so much more extensive than Wragby. I have never seen a more beautiful estate!"
Elizabeth knew where this was headed. Louisa's intention was clearly not belittling her home anymore. If only Aunt Lizzy was here to hear this! She could not help herself any longer. Perhaps this spoiled, scheming ninny should hear some truth out of my mouth...
She let her lips twist in an innocent smile. "Oh, yes. It is a grand place indeed. Not many have the pleasure and honour of calling it their birthplace."
Oh, yes! Now let us see you cope with that, Miss Filmont!
Louisa seemed confused and Elizabeth rejoiced on the fact that she had never thrown that at Louisa's face until now.
"Were you not born in Wragby?" Louisa asked, her eyes wide.
Elizabeth delighted in Louisa's expression. She looked like positively no less than a duck!
"No. You did not know? How odd indeed! I was born during a summer my parents stayed with the Darcys in Derbyshire. And since my mother became rather weak, I was already five-months-old when I was finally taken to Wragby."
Louisa's mouth hung slightly open and Elizabeth turned to the pianoforte with a delighted smile playing at her lips. Indeed she loved Pemberley like it was a second home. She had grown up splashing on the pond and playing among the gardens with Bennet, Margaret, and Henry while the older boys were out shooting with the men. It was Bennet that had taught her to ride and in his innocence, had her learn how to mount like a man, instead of side saddling like a proper young lady. It was only after William found them riding one day, with Elizabeth in a pair of Bennet's breeches, that the girl was taught how to ride properly, after much berating from Lady Filmont and Mrs. Bennet.
Louisa's high-pitched voice brought her back to reality by saying that she was due back to the drawing room.
It was with distinct relief that Elizabeth watched her cousin go.
Elizabeth had not gone back to practice on the pianoforte for ten minutes when a servant appeared at the door. The maid went unseen by her employer's daughter until she cleared her throat and shyly called.
"Miss Beth?"
Elizabeth interrupted the minuet and turned around, eyebrows raised in question. The girl went on timidly like before.
"There are a few gentlemen and a lady here to see you. A Mr. Darcy and..."
Elizabeth just raised her hand and thanked the girl before practically running out of the room. On the way, she nearly crashed into her mother and her guests as they were exiting the drawing room.
"Beth!" Cried Mrs. Bingley after the pale green bustle that dashed past her in bobbing curls and tapping slippers.
"Ben, Meg, and Harry are here!" She called over shoulder as she raced down the hallway to the sitting room.
She did not wait to hear her aunt's remarks on her behaviour, later regretting it. She pitied her mother for having to listen to the Filmont women making those snide, pointless comments of theirs by herself.
She did not pause at the door, immediately breaking into the room without even composing herself. In the sitting room, filling every chair and couch existent, Bennet and William Darcy, Margaret and John Fawley, Henry and Richard Curwood, James Fitzwilliam, and Charles Filmont sat waiting for her. The unexpected presence of the whole set made her freeze as she was halfway into the room. She let surprise take over her flushed face and managed to curtsy properly while the others rose from their seats. Only Bennet stayed where he was seated, playing with the burnt old charcoal left in the fireplace. His eyebrows were lifted and he was smiling in a most teasing manner.
"Amazing how the help here is efficient in announcing guests. Beth took," he paused as he checked his pocket watch, "less than five seconds to finish her practice and come to greet us."
The irony in his voice was enhanced by the fact that their hostess was smoothing over the wisps of dark hair escaping the neat twist it was in and taking a deep breath to diminish the bright rosiness of her cheeks. She suddenly seemed rather put out, though, as she met his brother's eyes with defiance flashing in her blue orbs. They were soon overflowing with irony themselves.
"Hilarious, Bennet." She turned to her other guests. "Gentlemen - how fare you this afternoon?"
"Quite well, Miss Bingley," said James with a candid smile, "We apologise for interrupting your practice."
"Nonsense. Charles's sister had already come to talk to me while our mothers were chatting in the drawing room. Her favourite topic was the ball held at their home and the dancing there."
She paused as she looked meaningfully at William Darcy, whose visible previous scrutinising of her had been replaced by leaning against the window frame while watching with sudden interest as a carriage slowly trudged down the lane - a frown visible on his face. Her breath caught at her throat despite her own mental admonishing of herself. Sure she had seen portraits of her uncle when a young man and she recognised that her cousin was indeed handsome, but she had never really seen him like this, with the sunlight that was peering through the clouds filtered through the glass pane and highlighting his brown curls. She swallowed and cleared her throat - an action that caused him to look up at her.
"I must say Miss Filmont found you as one of her favourite partners, Mr. Darcy."
He suddenly looked discomfited. Bennet choked, James ungentlemanly snorted, and Richard tried his best to dissimulate a smile. Even Charles was mildly chuckling, but stopped as the object of such sent him a glare. It was exactly what she had hoped for.
"In fact," she said, still addressing him, "you have come at an excellent hour. Lady Filmont and her daughter are just leaving in the company of Mrs. Hurst."
She turned back to the sitting-room door in time to hear the ladies' loud chattering in the hallway. Opening it, she merely stuck her head out.
"Louisa, dear, there are people here who claim an acquaintance to you. Would you not like to see my cousins and your brother?"
Louisa excused herself from her aunt and mother, and swiftly strolled down the hallway to the sitting room, entering it with smiling superiority.
"Why! Such a marvellous coincidence!"
Bennet, Margaret, and Henry glared at Elizabeth where she stood by the door, watching as Louisa paraded around the room, curtsying to every gentleman present. She notably preferred William Darcy among them and filled his ears with her uninterruptable chatter, asking him how he and his family fared. Bennet left his post at the armchair by the fireplace and came to stand by Elizabeth, her crossed arms, and her smug expression.
"I cannot possibly understand why you did this."
She turned to look at him with plain matter-of-factness in her eyes. "It would be incredibly cross if I did not tell her you were all here. She delights in your company as much as I do and her brother is among us."
Bennet snorted. "You certainly have matured over the last five minutes!"
She slapped him playfully on the arm like she used to when they were children.
"I take it back." He said rubbing his coatsleeve
"You were the one laughing at seeing vexation in your own brother's face!"
She saw him momentarily look at the flustered William and the now laughing Louisa in the other side of the room.
He turned to look at her and met a sardonic smile. "You are devilish, Beth! But I love you all the same."
This interaction was not lost on William, who was taking great pains to nod at everything Louisa said.
Finally, Mrs. Bingley, Lady Caroline, and Mrs. Hurst entered the room. They politely greeted the newly arrived guests and Mrs. Bingley sent for a servant to bring in some refreshments. Lady Filmont talked briefly to her son, reminding him of an engagement they had for the evening and summoning her daughter, said they were to take their leave. Miss Filmont promptly curtsied herself out of the room, followed by her mother and aunt, and then was gone, although not before hearing Lady Caroline inviting the Bingleys to engage them for dinner the following night. No matter how much glaring she received from her only daughter, Mrs. Bingley accepted.
After the refreshments arrived and Mrs. Bingley left the youngsters to their own discussions, Bennet said that their only purpose in calling was to invite her to join them for a stroll in Hyde Park, for the afternoon was a fine one that should have not been wasted. Elizabeth readily agreed with him, but not before flashing an uncanny smile at William Darcy.
Chapter 3
"For a moment there, I was convinced you had become great friends with Miss Filmont." Said Margaret as they joined arms after exiting the carriage that had taken them to the park.
"Do you take me for mentally ill!?" Elizabeth cried.
Margaret laughed. "No, I was assured that you had not banged your head somewhere right after I saw the look on your face as you were chatting with Bennet."
"Then you know my purpose in calling her into the room." Elizabeth said as she looked smugly at the back of William Darcy's head.
"You are indeed hopeless, Beth," Margaret said with a sigh, "but what did he ever do to you?"
William walked on, chatting with John, Richard, and Charles. He smiled at something John said and for a single moment, Elizabeth felt compelled to think him harmless. Smiling under his hat made him look like a very tall young lad. Elizabeth, however, was too obstinate to account for this view to her friend. William's expression fell back to seriousness and with it, Elizabeth's former opinion of him returned to its condition.
"He is the rudest person I have ever met in my entire life!" She said. "Insufferable man! It makes me miserable that he is Aunt Lizzy's son and Ben's brother. Did you not see how cold and aloof he is?"
Margaret uttered another sigh and shook her head. "Are you sure you are not ahead of yourself, Beth?"
"Ahead of myself? I am quite late as it is in my conclusions, Meg. I have not met a more proud, arrogant, and conceited person! He and Louisa deserve to marry each other -"
"Who are you talking about?" Asked Henry as he broke the link their arms were in and tucked each into the crook of his own.
"Oh, you are not acquainted with them, Henry..." It took Elizabeth a deal of guilt to lie to her friend.
"Oh."
Henry Curwood could always pass for naïve, but he certainly was not so. He looked like a male version of his mother with his fair hair and large blue eyes. His shyness was every bit Darcy and his mother had refused to take any pain to get him out of his shell; perceiving her son was terrified of socialising like she had once been, Georgiana Curwood placed Henry in the company of his cousin Bennet and her brother's nieces, Margaret and Elizabeth, from the time he was a little boy. Henry was honest, clever, good-natured, and he could read his best friends like books. So he merely curled his lower lip into a knowing chuckle as he walked on with his friends and let them try to fool him as they thought they could.
"I hope you are not playing the match-maker, Beth." He said with a sly look to the dark head next to him, which was now enclaurused under a bonnet.
Elizabeth feigned innocence, looking up at him and blinking her long dark lashes.
"Me? Match-maker?"
"I know you are as devilish as Bennet there."
"This is the second time someone calls me that today!" She said in mock-horror to Margaret, who limited herself to smile.
Elizabeth's eyes were glinting and he just chuckled a bit more before sobering up and letting out a long breath.
"Well, it is a fine afternoon is it not, girls? Remember when Mother, Aunt Lizzy, and your mothers used to take us here to play?"
Elizabeth laughed at the memories. "Absolutely. Once Aunt Filmont joined us and I made sure to choose that day to walk right into a puddle of mud."
"You never were out of the mud, Beth." He remarked.
"Marianne was absolutely terrified of the idea!" She laughed. "And Meg was always such an angel...She always went home as prim as she came."
Margaret only laughed and blushed.
Bennet joined them and catching his cousin's last remark, promptly smirked.
"Our Meg was no angel at all. She knew the scolding she would get merely from watching you, Beth."
Elizabeth tried to feign anger, but could not. She pulled Henry by the arm and stood side by side with Bennet.
"And I suppose you were an angel as well, Bennet Darcy." She said ironically.
Bennet stuffed his chest and looked down at Margaret with a glint in his eyes.
"Have you ever heard such slander, Meggie dear? Miss Elizabeth Jane Catherine Bennet Bingley," at this he feigned losing his breath, "is actually saying that my behaviour is not at all, shall we say...gentlemanly!...We shall have to prove her in the wrong..."
This little speech left Elizabeth and Henry absolutely bemused and made Margaret's face match her red hair.
Under candlelight, Elizabeth always thought her reflection in the mirror looked different than in reality. She was used at gazing at her own self until the alabaster skin turned similar to wax, her eyes darkened, and her hair glistened with the reddish streaks that showed themselves sometimes. As a child, her hair had been rather fair, a very odd shade of light brown with a few red nuances that puzzled everyone. Her eyes were large and grey, never quite matching her face in size and lighting it like two lanterns. Only when she grew older, was that her hair finally settled for its dark brown and her eyes for their sparkling blue-greyness, surrounded by long eyelashes and adorned of thin, speculative eyebrows.
As she survived the tugs and twists her hair was being submitted into, Elizabeth heard Mrs. Jones's quiet mumbling. The matronly woman had been the Bingleys' housekeeper in London from ever since Elizabeth could remember. She had seen her mother walk into that very threshold with a bundle containing herself in her arms, which, in the future, she would fondly call 'the young miss'. Now she had dismissed Joan, Elizabeth's maid, and had taken over the task of doing the miss's hair for the Bingleys' engagement with the Filmonts.
"Now, Miss Beth," she said, "you will remember yourself and not be snide to your cousin Miss Filmont."
Elizabeth laughed. "What makes you think I will be cross to Louisa?"
"I overheard you talking to her in the music room last time they were here, madam."
Elizabeth fell silent, contemplating that woman whose arms she had run into whenever her carriage would stop in front of the townhouse for the first time each season.
"I will behave for Mama's sake, Mrs. Jones. She does not like it one bit when I begin to bicker with them."
Mrs. Jones reached for a hairpin that lay on the dresser and pinned up one of the many braids Elizabeth's hair was in.
"I hope you do, child. And also, leave the poor Darcy boy alone."
Elizabeth's mouth hung open. She knew Mrs. Jones was not referring to Bennet, because whenever she did so, the old woman would say simply "Master Bennet".
"I am all confusion, Mrs. Jones."
"Miss Beth, do you take me for a fool? I saw the way you were looking at him in the sitting room. You do not look that mischievous even when you tease Miss Margaret out of her shyness."
Elizabeth could not help but laugh out loud. "Do you think me cruel, Mrs. Jones?"
"Not cruel, child, but you certainly waste no time. Poor fellow. Did you see the look on his face when Miss Louisa walked into the room?"
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow through the mirror at the older woman. "Do you think I would be a fool to miss that?"
Mrs. Jones shook her head, laughing. "Child, child...the Darcys are fine people. I remember your uncle when he was single and used to call on your father... The boy is like a picture of him! Every line in his face and every move he makes!"
"William?"
"Why, yes! Master Bennet is certainly not it. He is too much like your aunt...Both of you are! If it weren't for those blue eyes you have, I would say you were brother and sister."
Mrs. Jones tugged, twisted, and pinned some more and after ten more minutes, Elizabeth stood in her room in an ice-coloured muslin dress with a very thin waist and a set of full skirts. All the white fabric did was enhance her pale skin and the contrast of that and her dark hair, braided into intricate patterns with ribbons matching the gown. She looked every bit graceful and mistress-like. To the woman looking at her in the dimly lit room, Elizabeth was suddenly a woman with every nuance of grace, elegance, and even provocative to a certain extent. Not at all like the constantly agitated, energetic little girl Mrs. Jones had grown to love like her own. The old woman uttered another sigh.
"It sure seems like tomorrow you will be married and coming in here with a carriage full of children to visit your mother and father."
The young woman laughed delightedly. "I highly doubt that. Name me one suitor at least, Mrs. Jones."
The woman only smile. "Well, Miss Beth... You certainly have to start to pay more attention."
Elizabeth frowned and soon exited the room. Her parents were waiting for her downstairs.
When the Bingleys' were announced into the Filmonts' home, the Darcys were already there, joined by, surprisingly enough, the Fawleys and the Curwoods. Lady Caroline and Sir Timothy were playing the happily married couple as they sat surrounded by their children and their guests. Marianne sat shyly in a corner, looking anxiously at the door, obviously waiting for her Mr. Ashton. Henrietta was occupying a chair between Mrs. Fawley and Mrs. Darcy, looking quite the lady, and Louisa was lounged in a sofa, next to William Darcy, whose brooding expression was instantly taken in by his cousin. John Fawley, Bennet, Richard Curwood, Charles, Henry, and Margaret were sitting in armchairs and other seats surrounding them as the elder gentlemen chatted near the fireplace.
Elizabeth greeted her hosts with vehemence and then delighted in striding near to her favourite aunts.
Mrs. Darcy was the first to reach out for an embrace from her.
"Aunt Lizzy, Aunt Kitty - I am so happy to see you again so soon."
The ladies also expressed their joy in seeing her and then let her greet Mrs. Curwood. After curtsying to the former Miss Darcy, Elizabeth joined her friends where they were.
She seated herself on the settee next to Henry with a contented smile on her face and was soon following their discussion. John seemed quite put out by the entire situation and William was very firm in his opinions.
"But I see no problem at all in his marrying her - morally at least," John was saying, "she is a widow, you know."
"Who is getting married?" She asked.
"Our housekeeper in Glassborough - Mrs. Siddons." John replied. "She received a proposal from our silversmith, who is also widowed. Poor man."
Elizabeth could see nothing out of the ordinary in the situation. "And what is the objection?"
The answer came from a place she had not hoped to hear it from.
"She alone has three small children who evidently depend on her," said William, "but Fawley here told me the man has seven others! With his income and hers put together, they can hardly account for half of them."
Elizabeth looked at him with her eyebrows raised. Who asked you ?
"If they love each other, they will find a way, Mr. Darcy," she said steadily.
William laughed and the sound disturbed her. "Supposedly you think matters as easy as read in novels, Miss Bingley. But I assure you it is not so."
Elizabeth was instantly baffled. He took her for one of those spoiled, mindless girls who did nothing else than chatter every day about bonnets and dresses. Indeed! It did not matter that he looked astoundingly gorgeous as he stood with the glow of the fire framing him.
Insufferable, arrogant man! What I would not give to have him out of my family tree!
"I assure you, cousin, that I have as much sense about real life as you do. Now, I am sure this poor woman can count in my uncle's generosity. Only otherwise would you be having this discussion in the first place. Even though it is not easy to become a mother of ten overnight, if she is moved by her will, she will get to the bottom of the situation. You do not need novels for this to happen."
Let us see what you have to say about this!
William regarded her for a moment and then said, his voice overflowing with sarcasm. "I believe all of your servants will exert on your generosity when you are the grand mistress of Wragby."
"I do not need your irony, sir. Now, you sound like Grandmother Bennet and her disbelief in my prospects." The last part was said with a mocking sweetness that had him go pale with anger.
The others, gone silent upon the sudden turn of the conversation watched their discourse with wide eyes. All, but Louisa, who was looking quite triumphant, eyeing William with what seemed too smug to be adoration. The adults seemed hardly to notice, since they, too, were absorbed in their conversation. William looked like he was not done.
"In catching a rich husband?" He snarled, his brown eyes glinting with irony.
"I do not need a rich husband half as much as you need a novel-reading wife." She said with her cheeks flushed.
"With your sense of business you will certainly need one sooner or later."
Her eyes flashed. "And I suppose that with your sense of kindness toward those in need, you will need a mindless wife to console you after your help deserts you and your tenants starve!"
Elizabeth would later wonder how the discussion would have turned out if, at that moment, the Filmonts' housekeeper herself had not entered the room and announced that all was ready in the dining room.
Chapter 4
As Elizabeth had hoped, she was placed far away from William as they sat at the dining table. She was far from being pleased with the idea of having to sit still as not to put on a scene in front of their parents. Lady Caroline, however, seemed to take part in Louisa's excessive attention paying to him and put every single young lady, excepting for her daughter, at the other end of the table. Louisa sat confidently across from her object of attention and tried to coax him into conversation for the rest of the evening, while he ate his food, totally aloof of his surroundings.
Had Elizabeth been more perspective, she would have realised that in his silence, William was trying to make out every word that came out of her mouth. That he was feeling light-headed for reasons he dared not admit to himself. Ever since he had agreed with James to accompany him in a turn about the ballroom of that very house, he had been in an inner turmoil. Every image he had of Elizabeth Bingley in their childhood had been replaced solely by a vision in which dark blue muslin contrasted with pale skin and glossy pitch black curls sitting on a sofa and watching the dancers with the loveliest playful smile he had ever beheld. The spoiled little girl who stuck her nose in the air and ran about with his brother in exceeding lack of ladylike traits and often saw through him half the time with distinct, presumptuous disapproval, was now a graceful lady with a mind of her own and a cunning wit. He shook his head to clear his head and while unnoticed, downed a glass of red whine in one long sip.
She is outspoken, rude, and spoiled! What is wrong with you, Darcy? You have seen other female relations grow and you never even cast them a second glance. Now because this little...this little insolent brat dared to talk back to you, you fancy yourself besotted with her charms? You know she does not possess any luring qualities in the first place...
However, Elizabeth was busy being immediately drawn into chatting easily with her friends, cleverly making her usual remarks much to the amusement of her father and uncles.
After dinner, while her husband and sons were having smokes and brandy in the library with the rest of the gentlemen, Mrs. Darcy informed her sisters and nieces that she had received a letter from Meryton Parsonage in Hertfordshire, in which their other sister, Mrs. Mary Clayton, announced the engagement of one of her five daughters to an attorney from Bath by the name of Mr. Jefferson.
"'Pray inform Kitty and Jane, for I haste in making wedding plans before mama makes an appearance with the full purpose of making them herself.'" Read Mrs. Darcy out loud as the ladies were all assembled in the drawing room. "'However, I must say that invitations will be sent to your respective homes in London and I will wait for your coming to Hertfordshire very soon.
"'Give my regards to everyone. Your sister, &tc., Mary Clayton.'"
Elizabeth was the first to exhale a comment. "Be assured that Grandmama will take no pains in coming to see us after she has heard," she whispered confidently to Margaret, "well, at least on our home she will call."
Margaret looked at her cousin for an explanation.
"You are too perfect and kind not to be left without a husband before you are one and twenty, Meg."
Margaret blushed. "Do not be silly, Beth!"
Elizabeth just nodded in conviction while the men suddenly re-emerged from the library and all took their seats in the drawing room.
"What are you two plotting there in the corner, Beth?" Asked Mr. Fawley humorously.
"We were talking about Cousin Justine's recent engagement to an attorney." Elizabeth replied.
"Indeed!" He cried and then turned to his wife. "Pray, dearest, which one is Justine?"
Mrs. Fawley sent him a look that would have been characteristic of her second-eldest sister.
"You are not very mindful for a member of the Parliament, dearest...Justine is Mary's second daughter."
"Ah, yes."
"Who is the man?" Asked Bennet from where he had stationed himself next to Margaret and Elizabeth.
"A Mr. Jefferson." Replied Elizabeth. "He is from Bath."
Mr. Darcy could hardly keep from chuckling in his corner of the room. "Mrs. Bennet must be ecstatic."
Elizabeth looked at him with so much humour in her eyes that he had to smile down at her with that complicity that took over them whenever the girl's grandmother was involved. She always had to keep herself from laughing at the funny, mock-tortured faces he made whenever the woman was around. She knew, though, that however lightly they both treaded on the subject, that it indeed was no easy matter. She was well aware that her grandmother's overbearing behaviour was intimately connected with her parents' buying and moving to Wragby long before she was born.
"I see that, both of you." Her aunt usually scolded. But today she refrained from saying it and Elizabeth knew precisely why.
Aunt Lizzy would rather die than give Aunt Filmont the opportunity of hearing acknowledged any sort of humour uttered at Grandmama's expense from the honourable Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.
Mr. Bingley seemed to be pensive. "The time does fly by, does it not? Justine...How old is she?"
"Sixteen," replied Elizabeth dryly.
"So young!" Cried Lady Caroline.
Elizabeth uttered a sigh and Sir Timothy chuckled.
"That was a heartbreaking one, Bethy! Do you wish to get married yourself any sooner?"
Oh, dear... She thought with a grimace. She immediately looked at Bennet, whose eyes were brimming with mirth. Henry was looking down at her from the tip of his nose with those big blue eyes and Margaret had a light, almost imperceptible smile on her lips; her green eyes were dancing.
Henry took it upon himself to reply for her.
"Oh, no, Sir Timothy, Beth here is inspired solely by the Virgin queen who bore the same name as her. She refuses to be married and will grow to be the sole mistress of Wragby and Netherfield Park, ruling there with an iron fist!"
Elizabeth looked at him with a lecherous grin. "I would marry you, Harry dear. But you are a younger son and so you must live with the fact that I simply will not have you."
Henry's hands flew to his heart. "Mother, help me - for Father, your medicines have no use to my wounds."
Elizabeth gave him a pointed look and the Filmont ladies laughed much to the former's chagrin. She did not need them laughing at jokes made by her and her friends. She sat there, however smiling, with the fire framing her figure and her white dress flaring with the gentle breeze that wandered in through the drawing room's open door as a window had obviously been opened there. She nestled herself in her chair, but looked sideways, catching William in her sight range. He was leaning against the wall with a glass of brandy still in his hand, looking at her in such a disconcerting way, she felt quite odd. Being under one's scrutiny is never comfortable, she told herself. However, she managed to turn and hold her eyes in the same level as his, meeting them in a defying manner.
"No, Uncle Filmont," she said steadily as she turned away from her elder cousin, "I just believe in a marriage of love and respect such as my parents' own."
"But you must want someone to care and look over Wragby."
Elizabeth saw this as an opportunity to acquire a pointed look, even if it was not to openly direct it at a certain gentleman. She assumed a mocking superior air with her nose pointed upwards, her eyes shining.
"I suppose I do. But then, I could not possibly choose whomever I please." She let go of the mockery and raised her eyebrows archly. "I have it on great authority that I am, after all, a spoiled heiress who lives in oblivion of the real world."
She turned to look once more at William and saw his scrutinizing gaze turn to distance and aloofness all over again. She promptly glared at him. No one saw the interaction except for the gentleman's brother, who looked at her with a puzzled look on his face and then back at the gentleman leaned against the wall. His features cleared from their confusion after a few meditative seconds, when Elizabeth had turned around, satisfied with herself. Bennet set himself watching as William brooded and looked at the lady in a way he had never seen his brother look at anyone before. William's gaze was intense, penetrating, and his features became rather somber while his eyes burned through the back of Elizabeth's dark head. Bennet looked once again from his brother to his cousin, whose eyes had gone purple and complexion perfect with the fire glow about her frame. Little by little, Bennet's face was being touched with a satisfied smile, which turned into an ironical grin as he leaned back in his chair with a sigh.
Elizabeth had been too busy trying not to openly scowl at William Darcy's insufferable demeanour to notice any change that trespassed in her best friend.
Chapter 5
As the letter sent by Mrs. Clayton to Mrs. Darcy predicted, three days after their engagement at the Filmonts' house, the Bingleys received a missive themselves enclosing a formal invitation to Justine's engagement party, which was to take place at the Meryton Assembly Rooms two weeks from then. Mrs. Bingley read her sister's letter out loud during breakfast that day and Mr. Bingley promptly decided to open Netherfield Park - not only for their own stay, but also for the Fawleys and the Darcys.
Elizabeth was satisfied with the prospect only to a certain extent. Her face lit up when thinking of the time she would spend in the company of her best friends. However, she had the nagging feeling she would have to put up with Bennet's brother more than she cared to. She fully hoped that he would be sensible as to go out hunting and riding with the men and Margaret's brother for long enough in order to spare them the displeasure of being in each other's company. If they were to dislike each other as they did, let them do it in peace.
Peace, however, was not what Elizabeth was going to have that day on which her Aunt Clayton's letter arrived. She was reading at her favourite spot in her father's library, wishing no more than spending the rest of the afternoon in such fashion after the quick lunch she had shared with her mother, when she noticed the Gardiner's familiar carriage stop across the street from the Bingleys' townhouse. Being accommodated in the window seat, Elizabeth looked up from the book without shutting it close and watched as an elderly lady of about seventy exited the vehicle being reluctantly helped by the driver. She dismissed the man with an apparent sharp word and alone crossed the street and reached the doorsteps in less than a minute.
At seventy-two years of age, Mrs. Bennet was still very healthy. Even if it had been thirteen years since Mr. Bennet's passing, she still wore sombre mourning clothes and wailed all day long. Now living on Gracechurch Street with her widowed sister-in-law, her full purpose in life now was finding young gentlemen of consequence to marry her granddaughters. And Mrs. Bennet had enough of them: seven. That is, if one did not count the offspring of her youngest daughter, who was now married to a high-rank officer and living somewhere in Scotland since the death of her first husband, whose name the family did not even dare to pronounce.
Mrs. Bennet did not have a favourite grandchild. The Claytons merely looked down at their feet every time she gave away her lectures, even if they did not seem enthused with her preaching. Towards the Darcys, she did not even utter a word, although Bennet's impertinence often inflicted her nerves whenever he jokingly implied that he, younger son that he was, would be a bachelor for life. She never dared saying a single word to William, because he acted too much like his father and the latter's attitude towards her had done enough within the years to put definite distance between them. As to the Fawleys, she loved both of them with her whole heart and nothing less; John for being good-natured enough to always be a gentleman and Margaret for being the gentle soul she was, so much like her "dear Jane". Ironically enough, dear Jane's daughter was the only problem Mrs. Bennet had in her purposes, always being either indifferent, sarcastic, or insolent, and "for quite enjoying vexing her".
So Elizabeth did not quite know if she laughed at the veracity of her assumptions, or if she cried at what she would have to endure as soon as the door was opened and Mrs. Bennet broke into the house, calling for her eldest daughter unannounced. She did not move - instead, she listened with an amused smile on her face to the butler's steps towards the front door.
"Jane! Oh, Jane!"
Her grandmother's voice carried into the library at the upper level of the house as clear as if she had been standing next to Elizabeth. She cringed, even if smiling, but soon relaxed when the voices died down and a door - probably the one to the drawing room - was heard shut.
Elizabeth sat there, remembering through fogged memories the day before her grandfather died, when she was just five years old and the family had all assembled in Longbourn as soon as the gravity of his disease was announced. She distinctively remembered being sent to the ailing man's sickroom and told to sit on his bedside. Mr. Bennet had not lost the humorous glint in his eyes even in his last hours and had laid there, looking at his "little Beth" for nearly five minutes, admiring the girl's strength. Finally, he had reached for a dark curl that lay on her small shoulder and said in a hoarse voice that, strangely enough, did not alarm her at all.
"You are Lizzy with blue eyes." He had said. "I shall miss you, Beth."
Wonders of wonders, thought Elizabeth sadly, it had been the old man who had first called her the name she would hear herself referred as for life. However, he had not lived enough to call her that for more than half a dozen years.
She was shaken out of the reverie when Mrs. Jones stepped into the room and cleared her throat. The pained look on the older woman's face was laughable.
"Miss Beth, your presence is required in the drawing room."
Elizabeth quietly closed her book and placed it on the window seat's red velvet stuffing.
"Thank you, Mrs. Jones. I will be down shortly."
Muttering a silent prayer, Elizabeth slowly left the solace of the library and descended the staircase that led to the drawing room. She slowly opened the door and found her mother seated in an armchair with a distressed look on her face, and Mrs. Bennet at the edge of the chair she was in, holding on to its arms as if for support. The scene made Elizabeth turn to every drop of composure she had as not to turn around and flee to her room.
"Beth! Have you h-"
Elizabeth cut her grandmother short with a sweet smile, while taking a seat. "Yes, Grandmama, Justine is getting married."
Mrs. Bingley just smiled at her daughter from behind the cup filled with tea Mrs. Jones had sent to the drawing room upon her mistress' request.
"Well?" Demanded Mrs. Bennet.
"Well, what?" Elizabeth asked innocently, arching her eyebrows.
"Do you not think your cousin has done well?" She asked.
Elizabeth picked up the teapot from the table before her and slowly poured herself a cup of the steaming liquid.
"I think my cousin must be happy with her condition if everything is developing as she wishes."
Mrs. Bennet seemed to be in the point of despair and most of it was caused by the manner in which Elizabeth was conducting herself: calmly sinking two cubes of sugar into her tea and slowly stirring it with a spoon before bringing the cup to her lips in a most casual way.
"You seem to enjoy your condition, Beth. You are not getting any younger - time will come when you are to see yourself alone with two estates and no heirs. You should know that running estates such as Wragby and Netherfield is very difficult to a woman and-"
Elizabeth seemed prone to despairing her relation by offering no reaction at all and thus leaving her with no idea of what to do. This was not indeed what Mrs. Bennet was used to. Elizabeth would usually offer a remark that would send the woman balliscally bantering her for full five minutes while the other listened at first with amusement, and then with a lower degree of pacience. Offering no reaction, however, was almost as much fun. The young woman found herself wondering why she had never thought of that before.
"Mama," said Mrs. Bingley softly, "Beth is only eighteen."
"Nonsense. Look at Justine! And Lydia was already married at that point."
Elizabeth let out a very unbecoming snort and said. "And I am sure you will be happy when I follow their example..."
"I do not need your sarcasm, young lady! You see, Jane? You have to sit this girl down and talk some sense into her. If she continues in this insolent manner no one will have her and this will affect you as well; for you will be alone with a spinster and no money! With your health, most of both your incomes will be spent and God knows what will happen then!"
"Do not exaggerate, mama. Beth will marry in her own time." Said Mrs. Bingley.
"I do not see her doing anything!"
"It is not a matter of doing, Grandmama..." Beth pleaded.
Mrs. Bennet snorted. "In your case it is. Opinionated women take great pains to marry. Your Aunt Lizzy was lucky enough to meet a man like Mr. Darcy - who I thank God everyday for, but still ponder on what goes on in that head of his. If it had not been for him, she would be alone with her impertinence to this day."
"Mama!" Cried Mrs. Bingley.
"I am serious, Jane." The woman said. "Beth may have your eyes, but she is as stubborn and impertinent as Lizzy. She is not half as lively as Justine or half as good-looking as Margaret. I do not see her getting anywhere."
"Well," Mrs. Bennet went on dryly, "I shall be going. I promised Catherine I would call on her today."
It was with distinct relief that Mrs. and Miss Bingley watched the woman go. Both let out a sigh at the same time, which was caught just in time by Mr. Bingley, who was making his way to his study. He stopped at the drawing room door in time to watch with a sad smile as both his wife and daughter sunk back into the their seats with distressed demeanours.
"Mama was here." Mrs. Bingley said.
"I heard." He replied, with a slight chuckle.
Elizabeth tried to keep the flood of memories at bay when the road to Meryton began looking familiar. She succeeded merely because she did not remember much about the place after all. One of the few distinct memories she had was of taking a walk around Longbourn with her Aunt Lizzy the morning the doctor walked out of the sickroom and everyone began crying harder; Mrs. Bennet sobbing hard enough to pass out. It had been very early and most of the children were still in bed. Mrs. Darcy seemed very particular about leaving the house and had nearly dragged her niece to show her the favourite spots she had played in as a child. Now Elizabeth realised all Mrs. Darcy had meant to do was say her goodbyes to the place she had grown up at.
She remembered being left to play in the gardens in her mourning outfit while her aunt seated herself in a bench. Elizabeth also recalled the distinct and awkward feeling of being watched. By whom, she did not quite know.
The sudden stop the carriage came to was enough to make her shake her out of the memories.
"Come, Beth," said her mother as she was helped out of the carriage.
She stepped out and was greeted by the vision of a large house surrounded by vast countryside. It was not as exquisite as Wragby and not majestic like Pemberley, but it had enough to be instantly loved. She bent her head to the side and wondered what her mother must have thought as she had first stepped into it. Elizabeth knew that she owed her very existence to the place. Almost every one of her cousins did. It was there that her mother and father had met along with her Aunt Lizzy and her Uncle Darcy, and if they had not met, Aunt Kitty would have never been introduced to Uncle Fawley.
At the instant they were out of the vehicle, she saw a plump, middle-aged woman approach her father.
"Welcome back to Netherfield, sir."
Mr. Bingley smiled cheerfully, much like his younger self. "Thank you, Mrs. Thompson. You remember Mrs. Bingley, of course, but I do not suppose you know my daughter, Elizabeth."
Mrs. Thompson looked somewhat alarmed upon meeting with the sight of a dark-haired young woman who did not resemble the Bingleys at all, looking about herself in wonder.
"Beth..." coaxed Mrs. Bingley gently and the girl turned to look at the woman with an impish smile.
"I apologise, madam." She said, curtsying. "How do you do?"
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Bingley. Mrs. Mills, the former housekeeper said she met you as a little girl. A few of the servants remember you as well."
"Please," Elizabeth said with a smile, "call me Miss Beth."
"Certainly, madam."
The Bingleys were properly ushered into the house while the servants dealt with their luggage. A tour of the house was given to Elizabeth and then she was shown to her room. It was the farthest one in a wide hallway with a large window overlooking the countryside.
"This was the room your mother slept in during her stay at Netherfield." Said the housekeeper.
Elizabeth frowned. "I thought my parents had adjoined chambers."
"They do, miss. Mrs. Bingley stayed in this room before your parents were married or even engaged."
The woman's last sentence was caught by Mrs. Bingley as she entered the room. Her expression softened as she took in the mahogany furniture, the pictures that hung to the walls, and the glorious view by the window.
"I did not know you had stayed at Netherfield before you and papa were married." Said Elizabeth softly.
Mrs. Bingley smiled at the memory. "Oh, yes. I fell quite ill after having dinner with your aunts once and they invited me to stay." Laughter was suddenly in her eyes. "Lizzy came here the next day, walking from Longbourn, right after it had rained."
Elizabeth could only imagine Lady Caroline's response to that.
"I believe your uncle was quite charmed." Her mother said humorously.
Elizabeth just smiled and sat on the bed. Mrs. Bingley approached the window and beckoned her over not long afterwards.
"See, there...that is Longbourn and that is Lucas Lodge, beyond the road."
"Yes."
Mrs. Bingley turned to look at the room again and said. "Since this will be your room, you can redecorate it as you please."
"But it is fine the way it is, mama."
"Nonsense. We haven't anything better to do. I propose we go into Meryton to buy new drapery. What do you say, dearest?"
Elizabeth nodded, but was too caught up with the view to see her mother go.
Elizabeth and her mother took the carriage to Meryton that same afternoon and perused the shops. The inhabitants hardly recognised Mrs. Bingley. Not that time had withered her beauty, but it had not refrained from changing her. She still possessed her gentleness and demure ways, but had acquired a matronly disposition. Since her health was rather poor, her cheeks had lost their youthful rosy appearance to acquire almost imperceptible lines and a slight paleness. Her eyes were milder, more candid, less shy, and her hair had grey streaks that were almost lost among the fairness of it.
But the Bingleys' return to Hertfordshire had not been overlooked. Many turned their heads to see the former Miss Bennet walking next to what looked like a younger version of her sister. Elizabeth could perceive her mother's eyes taking in Meryton with a light sadness and a faint smile.
"Oh, it is her indeed!" Someone called out from behind them. "Jane!"
Elizabeth turned her head to look at a brown-haired middle-aged woman accompanied by a horrid-looking young man, a girl about Elizabeth's age, and another small child. Although they were lost on Elizabeth, Mrs. Bingley seemed to instantly recognise them.
"Dear Lord! Charlotte!"
Elizabeth was pulled by the arm, trailing after her mother and both women fell into each other's embrace.
"Dear, dear Jane!" The woman was saying and seeing Elizabeth, she widened her eyes and smiled in surprise. "Why, is this your little girl?"
Mrs. Bingley laughed. "Not so little anymore as you can see." She turned to Elizabeth. "Dearest, I suppose you do not remember Mrs. Collins."
Elizabeth curtsied. She could not figure the countless times she had heard of this woman she had never met. Mrs. Collins was visibly plain and seemed older than her mother by at least five years. Her curled hair was already streaked with grey and she had far more lines around her eyes and mouth than Mrs. Bingley did. Her eyes were sad, almost relenting.
"It is a pleasure, madam." Elizabeth said, curtsying politely. "Mama mentions you quite a lot."
Mrs. Collins was clearly charmed, but surprise had never left her eyes. "Why! She looks just like Lizzy."
"She does indeed. There is not a moment in which I do not find myself remembering the times when we were younger." Said Mrs. Bingley. "Are these your children?"
She was referring to the short, plain-looking young people next to Mrs. Collins and the dark-haired child who was begging to be picked up.
"Yes, indeed. This is Lewis and this here is Catherine. The little one was a surprise I had three ago. His name is William. Children, this is Mrs. Bingley and her daughter."
They both bowed and Elizabeth noticed that the plain, short young man was looking at her in a most atrocious manner. He was short, dark-haired with small brown eyes. His sister was only better than him, because she was a girl and so, being stared in that manner was a little less repulsive, since it had less of the dangerous leer the boy's eyes contained. Her hair was bound underneath a bonnet with light pink satin ribbon sewed to it and looked no better than her brother in terms of appearance. The child was shy, hiding behind her mother's skirts and looked clearly like Mrs. Collins. Elizabeth wondered what her husband actually looked like.
"I suppose you are here in Hertfordshire for Miss Clayton's wedding, Miss Bingley." Said Miss Collins while taking Elizabeth's arm and walking away from the others.
Elizabeth found no remedy than to let herself get dragged along with the repulsive girl, who was staring greedily at her gown with her mild dark eyes.
"Why, yes." Elizabeth replied.
"Netherfield looks like a fine place." Said Miss Collins. "Is it entailed?"
"I do not suppose so. It certainly is a fine place." Elizabeth said, her pride showing. "Longbourn is fine, as well. I remember being there only once, however."
"I suppose so. I miss Hunsford only for the sake of Rosings Park. I have never seen any grander place. Only perhaps Pemberley, where I went with my mother once. You are related to its mistress, are you not?"
"Mrs. Darcy is my mother's sister."
"Ah, yes!" She said in reverential way. "The younger Mr. Darcy is a delightful young gentleman, is he not?"
"Are you referring to her youngest son?" Elizabeth asked without even noticing about whom they were talking about. Her attention was only piqued when she saw the look in the other girl's eyes. It was of positive adoration.
"Yes! The youngest Mr. Darcy. I believe I have never met a more charming young man, Miss Bingley! Such high spirits and noble character. Attentive, lively, and witty...Papa quite approves of him. He said that any man related by blood to his late patroness and my namesake, Lady Catherine De Bourgh, ought to be a good man indeed..."
Dear God... Elizabeth thought. She was trying hard not to choke.
"We had endless talks while I was at Pemberley. You see, Mrs. Darcy held a ball at the occasion and he was the first to ask me to dance! The first, mind you! I have never ever met with such a skilled partner. And he is so charming! Not to mention handsome. He takes after his mother, but it seems to agree with him..."
Elizabeth felt her eyes watering in her need to repress her laughter. Poor Ben, indeed! What teasing he would have to put up with when the Darcys arrive at Netherfield in the following days! She tried to pay more attention to the young girl, but she was waiting for a reply.
"I am sorry, Miss Collins, but I did not hear you."
"I was asking if you too found him delightful?"
"Be- Mr. Darcy? Mr. Darcy is one of my dearest friends. We were raised as brother and sister ever since the day I was born."
"Indeed!"
"Quite so."
"How good for you. To have such a reliable, kind friend. If he holds you as high in his esteem, than I must do so as well." She clasped Elizabeth's arm tighter. "We shall be great friends, Miss Bingley. In fact, you can call me Cathy, like my brothers do."
"Thank you... Cathy," she said reluctantly, "I hope you will call me Beth."
"Oh! How delightful! Beth it is then."
Elizabeth tried to unsuccessfully smile as she met her mother's sympathetic eyes.