Beginning , Section II, Next Section
Chapter 6
It was thus that she saw through the window a carriage slowly approaching the front gate that was part of the room's view. She squinted her eyes and emitted a satisfied squeal when the front gates opened and let the carriage ride in. Elizabeth had, by then, recognised the crest on the vehicle's door.
She instantly left her post at the piano bench, leaving disarray of music sheets to fall to the floor like a thick and abrupt downpour. She reached the front door after alarming at least half a dozen servants and raced out of the house to catch the brightness of Miss Margaret Fawley's red hair as she stuck her head out the carriage and then fastened her bonnet on after seeing that the rain had ceased.
"Meg!!!"
Margaret looked up with her green eyes shining like emeralds under the hairpiece. She stepped out quietly, but took a few quick steps. Those combined with Elizabeth's lone stampede had both girls fall into each other's arms in a whirl of skirts, ribbons, brown curls, and loosened red strands of hair.
"Beth!!!"
"I was confident you would be delayed because of the weather for at least a day!" Elizabeth said while letting go of her dearest friend. She turned to the rest of the party with welcoming delight. "Uncle Fawley, Aunt Kitty, Cousin John! We are so happy to have you with us!"
Mr. and Mrs. Bingley appeared at the door upon having been informed by Mrs. Thompson of their guests' arrival right after the lady had witnessed the young miss flying out of the music room in a most disturbing manner.
Mrs. Fawley disengaged herself from her niece to turn to her sister and brother-in-law.
"We would have been here sooner if it were not for the rain. I hope you were not having lunch."
Mr. Bingley smiled cheerfully. "Nonsense, Catherine. We were rather hoping you would arrive in time for it."
The guests were taken inside for their settling and refreshment while Elizabeth and Margaret were left to share the bit of news each had to tell each other about the last days spent apart. The Fawleys had returned to Somerset four days after the engagement with the Filmonts and Elizabeth was left only with the lads. They did not see each other often enough, though, because soon the Bingleys were setting off to Hertfordshire.
"What was it like going home?" Asked Elizabeth, who missed Wragby herself desperately.
"It was fine," Margaret answered, "spent some time with mama. You know, talking about things."
"Any suitors?" Elizabeth asked teasingly.
"No, not anyone like your Mr. Thornton," said Margaret with a strange glint in her eyes, "but to be true, no one appeared at all - thank God!"
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, not even noticing her friend's change in behaviour. Mr. Thornton had been enough talk among their set for almost two months. He had been one of those men that mysteriously appeared everywhere Elizabeth went and when finally being introduced to her, mentioned meeting her charming grandmother. Elizabeth avoided them like the plague. Anyone who thought Mrs. Bennet charming in her praising and ranting ought to have something very wrong with them. Bennet had especially liked Mr. Thornton because he referred to Elizabeth as 'Dear Miss Bessie'. This was due to their introduction having taken place in the presence of Louisa Filmont, who had addressed Elizabeth by the endearment within his earshot.
"Am I glad he finally gave up his pursuit! I would not have Bennet laughing at my expense any longer!"
Margaret giggled loudly and Elizabeth turned to look at her in a puzzled manner.
"Meg! Pray tell me what is going on?"
Margaret stopped laughing abruptly and blushed until she matched her hair.
"Nothing, Beth."
"Nothing?" The other asked. "Margaret Catherine Fawley, I believe you were teasing me just now and you hardly tease!"
"I was merely expressing my gladness that I was not being pursued by men of Mr. Thornton's league - you know, suitors Grandmama sends us like post missives?"
"Meg! That is it! I have never heard you say a single humorous word about Grandmama's ways! Now tell me - what happened?"
Margaret's blush never seemed to fade and she placed her hands on her cheeks, feeling her skin burn against itself.
"Nothing, Beth." She looked around herself, looking as if she was hoping no one was near them. "I will tell you after supper."
"After supper! You are cruel indeed! I never believed you like this -" A sudden thought struck Elizabeth like a thunderbolt. "Are you in love!?"
Margaret blushed even harder, even if it appeared impossible. But she still managed to smile half in surprise, half in not being able to hold it.
"I will tell you after supper. I swear!" She said, stalking off quickly before the other could catch up to her.
Elizabeth watched her friend with wide eyes as her skirts moved quickly accompanying her tiny, fast steps. She pursed her lips for a moment and then narrowed her eyes.
"Oh! Come back here!" She called out and chased after Margaret.
Elizabeth lay under her covers as quiet as a mouse. She had grown used to doing that: waiting patiently until the last person in the house closed tightly the door to his or her chamber, and then she would silently slip out of bed. Sometimes she would go to the library to read or, when she had been younger still, quietly sit in her dimly lit room with the nurse asleep, and set to play with her dolls. As she had grown, slipping out of bed meant simply late night readings and long chats with Margaret, whenever they were sharing the same house.
Now Elizabeth was doing exactly that. Margaret had retired after supper, claiming to be exhausted. Elizabeth had merely narrowed her eyes at such excuse, but did not say a thing.
She slowly slipped from under the covers and opened the door to her room. Then she quietly raced down the hallway and broke into Margaret's room unannounced - without even having knocked.
"Well?"
Margaret had been reading in her bed under the poor light afforded by a candle. She nearly jumped up when Elizabeth, loose hair and nightgown on, had entered her room quickly and shut the door behind her with the speed of a small rodent.
"I have nothing to tell you. It is nothing." She simply said.
"Meg!" The other wailed unlike herself. "Please? I am curious..."
"Beth I am not even sure of it myself."
"What is it that you have to be so sure about?" Asked Elizabeth with her eyes narrowed as she hopped onto the other's bed.
"You have tried wailing like Grandmama and narrowing your eyes like Bennet. Next you will be playing the indifferent like Henry!"
"No," said Elizabeth, "Henry is not blood-related to me. There is no way I would involuntarily act like him. But you are changing the subject. In my concept of you, I have just now added the word 'sly'."
"And you just earned the word 'mentally disturbed' in yours." The other retorted.
"I- That is - I'm not...You're making me miserably curious, you know..."
Margaret closed her book. She had a glint in her eyes as she mockingly pondered and said more to herself than to her cousin. "Curious as a cat, bothersome as a mouse, now...what else?"
"Meg, you are bordering on incivility!"
"And I suppose propriety allows one to break into another's chamber in the middle of the night..."
"You are beginning to sound like Ben!"
Under candlelight, it was practically impossible to see the deep blush that covered Margaret's delicate features as those words left her mouth.
The Claytons called at Netherfield early on the next day. In fact, they arrived precisely for breakfast, upon Mrs. Bingley's request in a missive sent to the parsonage as soon as she had arrived. In the carriage that reached Netherfield early in the morning were Mr. and Mrs. Clayton, their five daughters, and their two sons.
The Clayton girls, at first, gave the impression to be very alike amongst themselves. However, in a few minutes of conversation - no matter how idle - Elizabeth found that the girls were very different from each other. Mary, the eldest, was very quiet, rational, and controlling. Justine bore repressed liveliness that bordered on silliness. Rebecca was very demure and the prettiest of the lot, Ruth was almost expressionless, and Leah young, naïve, and sweet - a mere child of thirteen. The boys were both very young. David, the eldest was only seven.
In spite of their little sparring the previous night, Elizabeth and Margaret had kept breakfast uneventful. Having to care not to do anything alarming that might trigger her aunt's sharp criticism, Elizabeth sat primly at the table and all she did was eat her food.
Once they were all done, however, Elizabeth did not refuse her little cousins' pleas of her taking them on a tour about the grounds and even if she was dying of curiosity, she decided at last to respect Margaret's wishes and keep her questions to herself.
The day was fine. The rain on the previous day had only left a few puddles of mud and Elizabeth enjoyed the moisture in the air and the smell the earth gained with being damp. The boys ran ahead of her, laughing and playing along the way and she found herself having to muster the temptation of not going after them as if she were mere ten years old. That was Elizabeth; in constant contact with the child inside her, ready to do something extremely boisterous at any time when no one was watching. So when Jonah rounded her and tugged at her skirt in the most teasing manner which almost sent her face-first to the ground, she could not help but put on a lecherous smile and run after the boy.
Jonah and David delightedly screamed while being chased by that not so large girl in the lavender dress, whose dark curls escaped her matching bonnet with every step she took. The ribbon finally gave away under her chin and the hairpiece flew from her head, catching in a nearby bush. Elizabeth did not mind in the least. When they finally reached a stream on the point of flooding with the melting snow of the past few weeks and the previous day rain, Elizabeth faltered. The weather was not so cold, but she knew they would catch their deaths if any of them thought of nearing the water.
It was altogether too late. David quickly ran to the stream, cast off his coat and jumped into the cold water, laughing. Elizabeth watched him with her eyes wide, not quite believing what she was seeing. Sure she had jumped into brooks and ponds before with her friends, but that had certainly not been in late March!
She felt someone tug at her skirt and saw a dripping David standing next to her. He had managed to get out and come back to taunt her still. Elizabeth picked David's squirming body up and promptly dumped him in the brook again. The little boy fell with a splash, giggling. She didn't even have time to turn away from the big wave the boy originated by falling, for she felt something push her from behind and she immediately lost her balance. Ungracefully trying to grab on to the riverbank, she saw Jonah laughing as he stood behind her. She grabbed him by his shirt and they both fell into freezing cold water.
Giggling, she resurfaced on the shallow waters, unpinning her wet hair. It cascaded heavily down to her waist and she dipped it into the water once more, to straighten it. David had managed to get out, but jumped in nearly five seconds after getting back onto dry land. The large splash he sent made Elizabeth squint her eyes and start throwing water at him. He responded by splashing her with his brother as a consort. Jonah tried to pull her deep into the water, but instead, she managed to hook his small leg with her foot and sweep it, sending him to fall on his behind, laughing delightedly. Elizabeth tried get away. It was in vain, because he pulled her by her skirt and sent her face down in the earthy depths of the brook. She got up and became aware that both boys were chasing after her.
"Cousin Beth!"
"Come here, Cousin Beth!"
She laughed while wading out of the water. Shivering with cold, she climbed the bank and without squeezing the water of her dress, she managed to break into a slow run. The boys sped after her like sprints and she started to run faster, breathing shallowly as she viewed the roundabout that lead to the main garden. She reached the paved path and watched as her feet left big wet footprints on it. She was still looking down while running, trying to squirt the water out of her clothes, when she saw her father accompanying a group of four people walking through the garden. She tried to stop and saw that there was no alleyway to escape into. The only way she could have avoided her father's presence was by turning back and running the other way around. But that was impossible as her father had slowly turned his head as he heard the sound of her splashing steps. Elizabeth froze right where she was so abruptly that the two boys, who were still running, could not stop and crashed against her.
"Beth!" A voice exclaimed, but it was not her father's.
It was with a great deal of embarrassment and cold that Elizabeth saw that the mere guests her father was taking to a tour around Netherfield were the Darcys.
"Elizabeth Jane Cath-"
"Catherine Bingley." She finished between tittering teeth. "I was taking a swim with Jonah and David! Aunt Lizzy, Uncle Darcy, I was not expecting you until tomorrow!"
"We were fearing snow, so we came as soon as we could," replied her uncle, who was trying hard not to laugh.
She scanned the group of people before her as she stood there; hands numb as they balled into little frozen fists. Bennet's eyes were watering while he held a hand to his mouth in an attempt not to become hysterical. Elizabeth was positively wondering how he managed not to snort by so doing. Her aunt had a playful smile at the corner of her lips, looking sideways at her husband, who was amused to the core. William was looking at her like he didn't recognise her and she felt instantly disgusted. Unaware of herself, however, she broke into a dazzling smile and curtsied.
"Cousin Darcy!" She said merrily. "What think you of Netherfield so far?"
"I- I...well, it...is a fine place indeed." The last part was said in a rush, as if the words were bubbling out of his mouth one after another.
That was only because William was trying his best to control his pounding heart, his now sweaty palms, and dried mouth. It was incredibly difficult for him to be social when having to look at her in the eyes while she stood before him dripping wet, her hair undone and tumbling down to her waist among green weeds with a few dried wisps already burning reddish in the sun. Her blue eyes were bright and the colour of her lavender dress only made them more peculiar than they already were.
She bent down to look at her little cousins, who were looking down at the floor, in a state of confusion mixed with finally feeling that indeed, it was cold. She ran a hand through David's reddish hair and smiled.
"Why do you not run along with Jonah? Ask Mrs. Thompson to ready you a bath, some hot tea, and order some clothes from the parsonage." As both boys ran down the path to the house, she called out "Go through the back door!! Your aunt would not appreciate if you went into the house dripping like that!"
Mr. Bingley carefully picked some weed off her hair and tossed it to the ground. "I think who should get into a bath is you, young lady! Your hair is full of weed and you are shivering!"
She managed one of those childish smiles that always seemed to get to her father. "Do you think mama will be terribly upset with me?"
"What do you think?"
Elizabeth slowly gathered her dripping skirts and started to the manor. The last thing she heard from the people in the garden came from her aunt and was obviously directed at her uncle.
"I would as soon think her blood-related to you, Fitzwilliam!"
Chapter 7
"Ow!...That hurt!"
"That is for keeping me awake for nearly more than an hour last night while thoroughly disturbing me!"
"I said I am sorry already, Meg!"
There was no reply.
"Do you really need to nearly pull all my hair off, Meggie?"
"Yes, Betsy."
"Have I not apologised enough?"
"No."
"I am sorry and I will never do that again. I love you and I deserve to be struck like a misbehaving child! Although you...you are devious indeed...you promised!"
Margaret only laughed as she reached for a pin from the dresser.
Elizabeth smiled as she glanced at her own image at the mirror before her. Her hair was still damp from the bath and she was already in a clean dress. The fire was burning high enough in the fireplace to keep the room warm and there was cup of tea on the dresser fumigating as Margaret slowly waded her gentle fingers through her dark hair, braiding and pinning after dismissing the maid.
Elizabeth had been seen sneaking into the house in a deplorable state for the second time in two days. Her dress looked ghastly and her hair was loaded with water, weed, and completely unbound. She was carrying her shoes and her stockings were ruined. The servants regarded the one that would one day be their children's mistress with alarm and shock. On their faces, she saw little amusement compared to that of her parents. Her mother had been angry, had her scolded as harshly as she could, and then sent her to her room to get changed.
Margaret had the good sport of nearly bursting out with laughter when she saw Elizabeth trying to shut herself in her room, looking placid with wet strands of hair glued to her face and neck after discarding the filthy shoes to the ground.
"I keep trying to imagine what your Aunt Filmont would have to say about this..."
"Oh, no. Do not even attempt at that!" She cried.
Margaret giggled. "Or even Grandmama. Although, she must have heard of it already, since she just arrived."
Elizabeth looked up at her cousin in surprise. "When did she?"
"Right after the Darcys, with Aunt Gardiner. She is having tea at the drawing room with Mama, Aunt Lizzy, Aunt Mary, and your mother!"
"Indeed!"
"Quite. I am sure that now you want to be in your best afternoon dress as not to have her berating you when you walk into that room right after having jumped into the brook!"
"Oh, dear!"
"My thoughts exactly!" This was said by Bennet, who without knocking had slowly walked into the room.
Elizabeth saw Margaret's hands suddenly falter in their skilful entwining. What was at first thought to be simple surprise was quickly dismissed: the other girl's green eyes momentarily darkened as she frowned and bent more into focusing on her activity. The blush that covered Miss Fawley's cheeks was fresh, bright, and embarrassed. Her fingers trembled, her lip quivered, and she was breathing shallowly to keep up with a fast-beating heart. Elizabeth watched this unravel through the mirror, not keeping from glancing momentarily at Bennet, who walked in unaffected and casually, smiled widely, and dropped on an armchair at the corner of the room.
"If I were an artist, I would paint you both right now." He said with a smile. "the prospect if lovely indeed."
Margaret blushed deeper and Elizabeth smiled insolently. "I would doubt that we would be able to stand being in this position for the full week you would take to get the mere essence of the scene..."
"Beth!" Chastised Margaret.
But Bennet was grinning from ear to ear. "Really Beth? You think me such an awful artist?"
"Ben dear, I think you a lousy everything." She said with a lecherous grin.
"Oh, my!" He said, mocking a hurtful expression. "Meg! Please save me with your full faith in my persona!"
This did nothing but disconcert the girl even more.
Elizabeth watched her with wonder and as soon as the girl put the finishing touches in her hair, she bolted upright from the stool and, claiming she had to see their grandmother, nearly ran out of the room. She could not believe what she was seeing. It was something she had never imagined. Why ever not, she could never know. Bennet and Margaret seemed all of a sudden, perfect for each other. While Bennet was open, cheerful, merciless in teasing, and as insolent as they came, Margaret was gentle, kind, calm, and collected. To someone like Bennet, this was certainly a balm. Margaret could keep him in line and he could unlock the iron door of her reserve to make her laugh and cry. Nothing seemed more right.
As she was quickly walking to the sitting room, Elizabeth felt a hand grab her by the elbow firmly. It was Margaret. Pale, shaken, and with a glow to her green eyes Elizabeth had never seen before.
"Beth, please."
Elizabeth turned fully around and faced the girl with both hands in her waist. She did not say a thing, because Margaret wouldn't let her.
"Beth, I love him. Always have. I just never found in it myself to admit it."
Elizabeth's eyes softened.
"I know you do, dearest. And I'm glad."
Mrs. Darcy had been directing herself to the drawing room at that point and caught her namesake's last comment.
"Glad about what, Beth?"
Margaret panicked and Elizabeth arched her eyebrows in an innocent manner. Before she could say a thing, however, the red haired girl was already bursting out.
"Glad that I disapprove of her jumping into the brook like that. That was disgusting!"
Mrs. Darcy turned the knob of the sitting room door with a puzzled look on her face directed at both her nieces, especially at Margaret and the additional decibels in her soft voice.
The sitting room was sunny. In a corner, Mary Clayton was reading to both her little brothers a story so they could stay within their mother's sight range. But that was not what called Elizabeth's attention. Sitting on a sofa, surrounded by her nieces, was Mrs. Gardiner, aged, but as lively as her five-and-sixty years would allow. She heard the women talk with a light glint in her dark eyes and they shone as they met Elizabeth's blue ones. Both exchanged a smile and not wanting to interrupt whatever her Aunt Kitty was telling the older woman, Elizabeth kept that as a greeting for the moment.
"I have time and again told Jane that she must shove some sense into that little girl's head. She is so flamboyant she might fall in love with a man with low connection and end up in misery. Jane should not in the least refrain from telling her that an heiress like herself should be seeking the attentions of at least, the son of an earl!"
Mrs. Bennet was sitting in an armchair, hands flying about her as she gesticulated in every direction possible. Her hearing-loss made her voice travel even louder and it reached Elizabeth's ears fully as the woman sat talking to Mrs. Clayton.
"Good day, Grandmama!" She said brightly.
Mrs. Bennet did not seem at all mortified. "There you are, Beth! I was just telling Mary here that-"
Her talking was interrupted by the arrival of the men into the room. They were there to greet the newcomers as well apparently. Elizabeth sat herself in an armchair and took up some needlework as she watched her three cousins, three uncles, and father all throng into the room one after another.
"Oh! What a delight it is to see my sons...and my boys, too!" Mrs. Bennet called out.
"And we are delighted in seeing you as well, Grandmother!" Said Bennet as he traipsed to kiss the old woman's hand. He was lively enough to keep up with his grandmother's havoc.
Elizabeth indulged herself with having to watch William be pampered by the old woman, who, in a fit of good humour, forgot any reserve she had with the young man. Elizabeth snickered quietly to herself while bending down upon her needlework, only casting a glance at Margaret's direction when Bennet took his post next to her, near the door. The girl was not visibly shaken at all. She looked delighted in being close to him.
Apparently, the impending arrival of her sons-in-law and grandsons into the room was not enough for Mrs. Bennet to drop the subject of her granddaughter. She eyed Beth significantly.
"Now, Beth. As I was saying before, since you do not mind station and wealth...I heard Mr. Collins's son has an interest in you."
Elizabeth nearly gasped out loud in disgust. Little did she know that her aunt was nearly choking on her tea as well.
"I fear Beth might be getting a suitor in a few months, Grandmother." Said Bennet with a meaningful look at her. "He may not be an earl or the heir of Longbourn, but he is just as worthy! Right, Miss Bessie?"
Elizabeth immediately glared her cousin. Apparently he was looking forward to have her at his throat. How dare he bring up the subject of that Mr. Thornton in front of their grandmother! Was it not enough that she had had to avoid his calls three times before he took the hint? Being matched with Lewis Collins was already humiliating enough. She looked at William, who was looking out of the window.
He must be enjoying himself tremendously and is just afraid of showing it.
"I am sorry if I do not correspond his feelings, Bennet. I am sure he would have been delighted in having you as his cousin-in-law. You would have certainly been great friends. Maybe he would call you 'Mr. Benny'."
Bennet laughed. "No, I would never allow that out of him. I may be younger, but I still have my pride."
Younger...you talk as if he were barely a few years older than you. That odious man must be at least fifty!
"Of course. You do not let anyone half as ancient as him get his way around you."
"I would certainly like to hear of him failing to have his way around you after you are wed! If I know him well enough, with his degree of devotion towards such a fetching lady, it will be likely he will let you have your way all the time!"
"Bennet!" Admonished his mother.
But he was no longer there to listen, since he had to quickly run for the door as a throw pillow crossed the room in his direction without no one seeing from where. With her attention turned to her needlework, Elizabeth seemed quite aloof to the rest of the room.
Posted on Sunday, 10 September 2000
"Beth!"
The voice seemed far, far away.
"Beth, wake up!"
Elizabeth's eyelids fluttered open and she drew a lazy smile as Margaret's semblance formed over her. Her cousin was looking like a princess in a floral-patterned light yellow gown, which made the copper in her hair glow exquisitely.
"Be-eth!"
The urgent, yet gentle hand that was shaking her shoulder slowly retreated as her body bolted forward in slow motion. After that tiring day, Elizabeth had fallen asleep in the plum-coloured settee in her mother's sitting room while guests poured inside Netherfield Park. She lifted herself from the piece of furniture in a cloud of light blue muslin and silk and slowly covered a yawn. Leave to her father to throw a gathering the day the Darcys and her grandmother arrived.
Following Margaret out in the hallway, they entered the ballroom much to the surprise of their guests. Elizabeth still mentally claiming tiredness and Margaret seeking a certain gentleman in the crowd, they both waded through compliments, greetings, and introductions.
"Some ladies seem to take all of the night's beauty and wear it themselves." Said Bennet's voice as he offered his arms to them.
"And some gentlemen act as hypocrites while wasting their charms on ordinary little cousins!" Teased Elizabeth,
"Why hypocrites?" Asked Bennet.
John Fawley came to claim the arm of his sister and escort her into the room like a good brother. Elizabeth pointed at him.
"Were you not admonishing Fawley for wasting his charms on us once?" She asked.
Bennet smiled widely. "None of the ladies here require as much praising as you both. You and Meg will always make the others look like mere...ladies."
Elizabeth feigned absolute shock. "Pray sir, what are we if not mere ladies?"
Bennet's momentary glance at their fair cousin was not lost on Elizabeth and her heart delighted in sheer hope.
"You and dear Meg are no less than deities." He said.
Margaret blushed scarlet and Elizabeth smiled widely at her friend. Her countenance only dropped when she caught the sight of her other cousin as he leaned against a column, scowling. He probably hated social gatherings like this. He maybe even despised his own uncle for succumbing to the idea of being obligated to throw such festivities for the mere celebration of the engagement of a niece he barely knew. Elizabeth absorbed William Darcy's handsome form as he stood there, aloof and distant and she thought herself suddenly ill with seeing so much disdain in one's face.
However, those were not the reasons for William's disgust. His demeanour derived from having to watch as his brother teased, laughed at, and showered with affections a certain lady whose dress matched the sea-blue of her eyes. Why it bothered him was something he did not even dare to reflect upon. He contented the urging need to take in her lovely form as she smiled brightly at something. He tried desperately to convey that his feelings were simple concern for his brother's happiness, but was unsuccessful. The forever-arching eyebrows and the curious look she sent him when passing him was etched in the back of his mind and it would not go away at any price. He just swallowed dryly and looked about the room in search of something more alluring than his cousin's good looks.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, was quite looking forward to leaving Margaret and Bennet alone at long last. She was not, however, prone to see that happen any soon, for at the instant she and Bennet reached the other end of the ballroom, she heard her name being called twice over the noise.
Turning around, she saw both Mr. and Miss Collins, arm in arm, as they strode in their direction.
"Oh! What a delight to see you, Catherine!" She said amiably.
Bennet seemed slightly discomfited as fingers teasingly dug into his sleeve and he perceived with some fear that his cousin's blue eyes were shining with mirth.
"Miss Beth, let me reacquaint you with my brother, Mr. Collins." The short, plain girl said in a strident voice.
Elizabeth curtsied as the young man bowed in an exaggerated manner, all the while feeling Bennet shake with laughter next to her. So much for her teasing him!
"It is indeed an honour, Miss Bingley," said the young Mr. Collins, quite puzzled as to why the youngest Mr. Darcy was laughing, "my dear mother tells me she knew your aunts and mother very well. It is indeed delightful to be making the acquaintance of such an honourable and fair young lady."
Elizabeth's eyes widened in disgust. The little man did not seem quite done, though.
"If you are not otherwise engaged, I would be much honoured to escort you to the dance floor."
She looked up at Bennet in half-panic and he only reprimanded her under his curls. She set her blue eyes into his own brown ones, pleading and glaring at the same time. He gazed at the probably toothless girl who was staring at him greedily and her poor excuse of a brother and saw no other way out. He only nodded, frowning as he tore his gaze from hers.
"I am terribly sorry, Mr. Collins, but my cousin has already engaged me for the first two dances." Said Elizabeth without hesitating.
Collins mildly smiled at her and bowed again profusely. "Yes, of course. Maybe later, then, Miss Bingley."
Elizabeth icily nodded.
"Come away, Cathy."
The girl had to be dragged away from them.
Bennet turned to Elizabeth even if he was not directly looking at her. He seemed angry and forlorn and Elizabeth could only wonder why.
"I was already engaged to dance with Meg. I suppose you will want to explain the situation yourself - I have resigned from doing it myself."
If Bennet was expecting her to be vexed by her actions, he was terribly disappointed because at hearing such speech, Elizabeth's eyes lit on her face and she smiled widely.
She patted his arm.
"You have no idea of how grateful I am to you, Ben!" She said, pulling him along with her. "Come. Let us look for Meg."
After her two dances, Elizabeth was content to watch Bennet go and seek Margaret for the waltz. The nagging feeling she had that Mr. Collins would seek her for such dance made her search for solace in the company of her mother and father, who were merrily conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Darcy in the hallway near to the music room, which was empty.
Looking forward for the silence a simple conversation offered compared to the noise in the ballroom, Elizabeth joined her parents where they were and was received quite cheerfully.
"Why, Beth! Done taking your turn about the dance floor?" Asked her father as he sipped a glass of red wine.
Elizabeth smiled widely. "Yes, papa. Bennet quite deserted me."
Her aunt's eyes narrowed. "Why, you certainly do not look upset enough as someone who has just been deserted..."
She could not help, but keep on smiling. "Well, I must admit I have grown quite tired of dancing."
She had not half finished the sentence, two very flushed and happy Bennet and Margaret appeared at the hallway. Margaret had even a few errant strands escaping the neat twist her fair hair was in.
"We are so exhausted!" Margaret said. She looked inside the empty music room and pulled Elizabeth by the arm. "Come, Beth. Let us rest."
Elizabeth only grinned at their elders as she let herself be pulled along to the empty room. They dropped on the seats available, Margaret exhaling a deep breath and fanning herself with her hand.
"Well, Beth, you certainly managed to escape that odious Collins." Said Bennet. "What shall Grandmother say?"
"I hope she will drop the subject as soon as she realizes how odious he is."
"You do realise she is only trying to get the Bennet blood back into the estate's entail again." Said Margaret.
Elizabeth shuddered. "I simply refuse to take part in her plans, if that is case."
She got up and sat at the pianoforte, opening it and running light fingers over the black and white keys. She glanced at the music sheets and saw that since the day Margaret's arrival, when she had accidentally disarranged them, they had been out of order. She picked them up and reorganized them only to put them back in their place.
"Will you play something for us, Beth?" She pleaded, her green eyes shining.
Elizabeth found that refusing Margaret's glowing complexion, wide smile, and dancing green eyes was quite impossible. She smiled in return, leafed through the music sheets that were available to her and found a Mozart divertimento that quite fit the occasion. She set to play with great spirits in that light way she had of fingering the keys, yet pouring all of her liveliness into the song. She only peered at the notes on paper from under her eyelashes as she had half shut her eyes long since.
While she played, William Darcy's and John Fawley's arrival in the room went quite unnoticed by her. William ascertained the girl at the instrument with hard eyes which unwillingly softened after a moment. He was quite oblivious to the fact that Bennet and Margaret had guiltily jumped apart when John walked into the room. William was too caught up in the lively creature, whose well-manicured hands flew lightly over the keys.
Get a hold of yourself, Darcy. And do you realise why? This lady is your cousin, probably the love of your brother's life.
He momentarily glanced at Bennet, who was looking in Elizabeth's direction with a far-away look crossing his brown eyes and the stupidest smile he had ever seen on his brother's face.
A man in love, thought William, and why would he not fall in love with her? They have been close since children. While you were treating her abominably because of her behaviour, he was there for her. There to teach her to ride a horse, to read, and to swim. And now he's still here for her...to marry her. Face it, Darcy, everyone will be happy with it - especially your mother - and you will have to show yourself happy with the situation at last.
After she finished, she let the newly arrived Ruth Clayton take over the instrument and the girl set to play a lively march which sent many young people into the room to dance. Elizabeth was content to sit back and watch from the settee available in the room. He stood there behind her, taking in every aspect of her as if for the last time. Bennet was dancing with Rebecca Clayton and Margaret with a local young man and every time Bennet passed her, he would smile. Every one of those smiles sent William's heart into painful contractions.
John Fawley approached him, not visibly attempting to engage anyone to dance, holding a glass of wine in his hand.
"Why Will, I must have you dance! I simply you will not have you standing there in this stupid manner. You either go and ask one of these lovely girls to follow you to the floor or I will bring you mother here!"
William seized his cousin and friend with cold eyes. "I will not dance, Fawley, you shan't make me. So before you protest, I will simply assure you that you are wasting your time with me and advise you to woo the girls you speak of with your own personal charm."
"Now, now...There's Beth, sitting there quite alone. Why do you not ask her to dance with you? She is a very likeable partner, I dare say."
William looked down at her and met those intriguing blue eyes. "Me? Dance with this girl? Fawley, she may be my cousin - and Lord knows how I respect the Bingleys - but she is unmannered, spoiled, and insolent..."
John eyed him critically, grumbled a reply, and stalked off.
Now what was that, Darcy?
You were obviously trying to make yourself hate her, right?
Well, by now you should have known you cannot.
His attention was piqued as the lady that occupied his thoughts slowly got up from the settee with her body shaking. What now? She was crying? Had she perhaps overheard him? She turned around, facing him, and to his surprise, her face was not marred with sadness. She was laughing! And how well it became her features to be laughing openly and shamelessly.
She is laughing at your expense, you idiot.
Is she?
Yes, she is.
"Cousin Darcy! I had not seen you there! For a moment I thought I was hearing things!"
Oh, dear God...
Before he could articulate any other thought rather than that, she was whirling around, and walking out of the now populated music room with fast and small steps.
Chapter 9
The morning of Justine's engagement party, Elizabeth awoke in such high spirits, she smiled even through the process of being put into a corset. While she held on to the bed's post as the maid tightened the uncomfortable piece of clothing around her body, she yelled out to each servant that passed the room to call in Miss Margaret's maid to invite Margaret to walk into Meryton with her. Margaret, for some strange reason, refused. But Elizabeth was even more confused when Bennet offered to accompany her.
As if talk had not erupted enough in Meryton about the Netherfield party, the town's inhabitants only found more gossip upon the sight of the flamboyant Miss Bingley walking arm in arm with the charming youngest Mr. Darcy. 'A most prudent match', many said. It was only expected. The younger Darcy boy was not in right to marry just about wherever he pleased. The Bingley heiress would provide him with two fine estates and the increasing Bingley fortune. To Mr. Bingley that was assumed to be more than convenient, after all, he was handing his fortune down to his own nephew, the son of his closest friend. And so, Meryton was satisfied with witnessing the making of another convenient, well-done match.
Having lived with slander from the time before she was born, Elizabeth did not even care to know what was being said about her in the neighbourhood. And Bennet, who was as aloof to what others thought of him as his cousin, merely traipsed after her laughing and smiling.
Elizabeth purchased two bonnets at a store and a handful of lavender and blue satin lace to see if she could improve old ones. The instant both young people walked out of the store, they were accosted by none other than the Collinses.
"Why, Mr. Darcy, Miss Bingley, what a delight to see you again!" Said Lewis as he bent in an exaggerated bow.
Elizabeth eyed him with an eyebrow arched and then noticed the man's sister had her eyes caught in the junction of her and Bennet's arm.
"Yes," said Bennet in his charming mode, "a delight it is indeed. How do you fare this morning, Miss Collins?"
Elizabeth eyed him with wonder only to receive an imperceptible nudge. The other girl however, managed to conceive her face prettily with her hand while blushing and batting her lashes.
"I am quite well, I thank you, Mr. Darcy."
"Miss Bingley," said Lewis, "I wonder if I may address you privately some other time."
Elizabeth glanced sideways at Bennet, who only flickered a look at her and then pressed her hand at the crook of his arm. In two seconds, both were staring earnestly beyond both their acquaintances, most particularly at nothing, much to the puzzlement of those who had their back turned to what had supposedly piqued their attention.
"Why! Is that not incredible..." said Elizabeth softly.
"Most remarkable indeed..." Bennet agreed.
As both siblings swivelled their heads away from them to look at whateer it was that had piqued Bennet and Elizabeth's attention and promptly got themselves distracted by asking each other what was there, Elizabeth grabbed Bennet by the arm and pulled him into the crowd. Laughter echoed as he followed her into a side-lane. Soon they were lost among the multitude of people and then proceeded to the road to Netherfield Park, stumbling and giggling along the way. As they reached the road outside town, Elizabeth looked up at her cousin with narrowed eyes and a lecherous tug at her lips.
"I'll race you to the manor! The library is the finish line!"
Bennet was only detained from gaining ground by running off right after the word "race" left her mouth, because she had promptly grabbed him by his coat's sleeve, sending him into a sequence of stumbles. Laughing, she picked up her skirts and ran off at surprising speed.
Elizabeth ran down the lane, climbed the front steps two at a time, and tore through the front door. Bennet soon followed in the same fashion, only he had discarded his hat and stuck it into the hand of the footman, who had bewilderedly opened the front door upon the sound of running steps. Breaking into a mad dash, he followed his cousin into the house, who was now stumbling up the stairs and breaking into the library only to drop into the first seat available.
It was a great deal of mortification that she saw William Darcy look up from a volume and raise an eyebrow at her quizzically. Bennet did not even acknowledge his brother as he entered the room panting, bending down, and supporting his hands on his knees.
"How is that...even if I am... a man ... supposedly stronger... in more agile clothing... and do more than spend the entire day on a chair or a piano bench...you, a woman, still manage to beat me and not... end up... out of breath?" He wheezed out the last part and then wiped some sweat off his forehead as he saw his brother. "Oh, hello Will."
Elizabeth was trying to calm her altogether too quickly rising and falling chest as she exhaled in long turns.
"Simple, sir," she said grinning while avoiding William's scrutinising gaze, "I always cheat."
William was too busy staring at her to say anything. John Fawley walked into the library at that moment, and laughed upon catching Elizabeth's last phrase.
Bennet groaned as he sat down in an armchair. "Did you hear that, Will? She said she cheats. Well, it is not like I did not feel you cheating."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in mock-innocence. "Then why did you ask?"
"She prides in being dishonest!" Bennet said dramatically. "What is to become of all of us?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "I am only dishonest when it involves my cousins."
John smiled. "I am your cousin and yet you seem to be honest with me all the time. At least I thought you were."
Elizabeth only shot him a devious smile.
"Well," said Bennet with a teasing tone to his voice, "I doubt Will here will view you as merely his cousin anymore, Beth, so with him, you do owe it to yourself to be honest indeed."
William turned to look at him abruptly as if piqued by what he had said and so did not see Elizabeth frown as she looked down at her lap.
"Pray, Bennet, enlighten us." John said humorously.
Bennet gained a superior, enigmatic air as he proceeded to look from William to Elizabeth with a significant light in his eyes.
"Oh, no. I would rather not...Time will reveal what it has to reveal."
With that he left the room, soon followed by Elizabeth, who was rushing after him with a quizzical look in her eyes.
Elizabeth could not finish pursuing Bennet out of his enigmatic slander about William because her mother called her into her bedroom; the seamstress was there and final touches were needed in a gown for the evening.
William Darcy waited for John Fawley to exit the library and then slowly approached the low crackling fire in the fireplace. Feeling his face bathed with heat, he had to hold on to every ounce of his reserve not to do or say anything out loud. Every word that had left his brother's mouth for the past few days swam around in his head and reverberated in his ears. Because somehow, William interpreted them as signs. Signs that he would be living with the prospect of a future sister-in-law very soon. Not that his brother's marrying bothered him. It was who his brother was set on marrying that inflicted on him so much revolt, anger, and jealousy. He even hoped he was merely envious of Bennet's position, but no. He was truly envying him the smiles, the warm looks, and kind words that emanated from Elizabeth Jane Catherine Bingley.
His eyes rested themselves on the sofa she had been occupying after tearing into the library positively wild. He always seemed to catch her like that: glowing eyes, disarrayed hair, and rosy cheeks. Childish, yet beautiful, exotic, and full of life. Nothing made his heart ache more. And it was the little details he collected about her that made it all more painful. No one else but him, had seen her nearly trip over the rug when she had walked into that room today. No one had heard her softly curse her skirts for being on the way as she stalked off, dripping wet from jumping into the brook the day before and also no one saw when she had silently retrieved the throw pillow from behind her back and expertly tossed it at Bennet with no one else seeing where it came from. No one else, but him.
Bennet had. Because it was equally hard to conceive that Bennet had dared to tear his eyes away from her. And had he not escaped in time to avoid being hit?
I love her, he thought to himself and the weight of this mute admission stabbed through him with all its might.
"William, are you all right?"
It was his mother. His dearest mother. Who without knowing it, reminded him of so much. He swallowed and tried to block the hallucinating notion that his mother had acquired violet blue eyes away from his head.
"Yes."
She ran a hand over his forehead, sliding her fingers under his curls.
"You are trembling, sweating, and feverish. Maybe you should rest. I will make your apologies to your aunt at the assembly." She said.
He eyed her like a hurt little boy as he dropped into the armchair.
"No, Mother. I am just tired. I have been reading from the time I awoke. There is no need for me to stay at home tonight."
"Stubborn like your old mother." She said laughing. "So I might as well not even start telling you the reasons why you should stay behind."
He only smiled and she tousled his curls. "Well then, reader, you had better have some tea and get some sleep."
She smiled at him one last time and left him alone. William sighed, closed the volume he had been so avidly reading before the morning dress-clad interruption, and walked to his room.
Chapter 10
"If I step on this dress once again, I will rip this wretched brocade lining off!"
"Beth, pray do not speak like that. It is not seemingly."
"Meg...You are the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect cousin, the perfect friend, the perfect niece, and someday will be the perfect wife. I will never be any of those things and so that is my licence for being and acting like I am whenever I wish to."
Margaret shook her head negatively, bouncing the reddish curls her maid had so carefully succeeded in making out of her mistress's straight hair.
"Hopeless Beth"
"And is that why you did not accompany me into Meryton today?"
"Precisely. I know you would manage to leave me alone with Ben and frankly, that does nothing but torture me."
"But he loves you!"
"He has as much regard for me as he does for you."
"Nonsense."
"See?"
Elizabeth slowly twirled her finger around a curl that spilled from the heavy entanglement of braids her was in and gathered her shawl around her as she stepped out of the room.
"You think I will never marry if I keep up with this attitude, do you not?" She asked with a grimace at the full skirts. "Well, I most certainly could not care less."
She heard someone walking up to them from behind her and saw Margaret bob a curtsy.
"William," Miss Fawley said with a smile, "your mother mentioned you were not very well. I hope you are feeling better."
Elizabeth did not turn around. She just stood there, feeling that odious presence at her back like a threat.
"Yes, I thank you. I only needed some rest."
I wonder if he claimed that he caught the illness from me! He seemed fine when I met him in the library. He was probably looking for an excuse not to come, but Aunt Lizzy urged him to.
She whirled around and felt something catch at her throat on how fine he looked in charcoal black.
"So now you will be forced to spend an evening with us?" She asked archly.
His face was expressionless. "Yes, I suppose so."
She narrowed her eyes. "You are not feeling quite dragged?"
His eyes narrowed as well and she somehow caught the purest irony slip into his glinting brandy orbs.
"I assure you, madam, that yes, I am. My mother forced me out of my fake illness and into formal wear before I could even raise my voice in contrary."
"How shocking!"
"Quite, is it not? A gentleman of my position and age is being dragged by his mother to a family gathering."
A smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. "No. I would rather think it shocking to find that a gentleman such as you, sir, has not the dignity to stand up and defend himself from maternal hands!"
William looked down at her and - for a moment - felt compelled to laugh delightedly at her flashing eyes. He opened his mouth to deliver a rebuke, but soon saw his brother reach them from the other side of corridor, grinning in the idiotic way he had been doing for two days now. It crawled under William's skin and his retort to Elizabeth was soon forgotten. Reality hit him in the fullest and that aching in the pit of his stomach resumed. In his distraction, he did not notice that Elizabeth was still glaring at him as if he were a poisonous snake.
Bennet bowed to the ladies, eyed Elizabeth and William with pure and visible mirth, and paid a heartfelt compliment to Margaret. The lady blushed and William froze.
For the first time in the whole of the three days he had spent at Netherfield, he had never perceived this in Margaret's face. Sure he knew well the fine features that adorned her visage and the green and yellow canvas of her iris, which now beamed violently under the long lashes. Love, adoration, and affection emanated from those rich and delicate green eyes and hit the figure of his brother without the gentleman even taking notice! Sure their arms were bound together, but Bennet had eyes only for Elizabeth in that cheerful, laughing way he had of watching her.
William swallowed dryly and seeing no other way around, mumbled an offer of his arm to Elizabeth. But when he looked downwards to where she had been, she was already gone
Elizabeth soundlessly stepped out of the carriage and instantly pulled her pale shawl tightly around her shoulders. Her skin prickled under the silk as the cold breeze that wavered through the narrow lanes of Meryton hit her in the fullest.
"Cold?" Bennet asked as he offered her his arm.
Elizabeth took it, glancing at Margaret who was taking her brother's arm once again.
Will John never realise what is going on?
She tightly smiled. "A little."
He patted her gloved hand and they followed their parents to the main door. The announcement was heard loud and clear and a wave of whispering took over the occupants of the already noisy ballroom, making Elizabeth frown. The heat in the rooms was unbearably contrasting to the cold outside and she quickly regretted ever bringing the Indian shawl. Amidst the gathering of people, the band was playing some unfashionable tune and couples were already dancing. Meryton's society was there at its finest and the happy couple, Mr. Jefferson and Miss Justine, were standing near the doorway, accepting congratulations with their own particular smiles of pride and satisfaction.
After curtsying to all the acquaintances she had made in the past few days and once again dodging Lewis Collins' attentions, Elizabeth was left quite alone by Bennet as he went to dance with Margaret. She gladly sent him on his way once again. As she approached her parents, she did not even know she would be, surprisingly enough, waltzing herself in the next few minutes.
The room became a sudden blur as she opened her eyes and brought her head up straight from being thrown backwards in absolute abandonment.
"Is your sole objective making me dizzy?"
"No, my objective is dancing."
"I gather you would rather enjoy seeing me fall in the most embarrassing manner in front of all these people."
"No, I would not, for I would be in disgrace as well."
"For being an unskilled dancer?"
"No, for having such an unskilled partner."
Elizabeth glared at him. "You exasperate me from the time I was born!"
"No, madam. When you were born, I was away at Eton."
You are such a poor liar, dear Will. Do you not think mama told me the tale before? Of how you ran out of the nursery in the middle of night, screaming that you were coming and that you would save them all upon hearing her screams?
"I most certainly think not!"
"You are to tell me where I was?" He asked as pertly as she would have.
"You were at Pemberley!"
"I was not. Or perhaps I was in so much dread of whatever it was that was coming and my mother made such a fuss about that I fancied myself away at school."
Elizabeth would have left him in the middle of the floor if their parents had not been standing among the crowd that was watching the dancers waltz. Whenever William Darcy addressed her in the presence of her parents, she had managed to either hide in submission, responding on something that bordered on politeness or pretend she was amiable to him in the same manner (well, not quite the same...) as she was with her other cousins. It was thus that she ended up accepting to engage him for the waltz. That he chose such a dance piece was what set her off the most. She could hardly form a response and her stuttered "yes" was only due to the hanging presence of her father by her arm.
To the aforementioned gentleman, this dance was something he needed. It signified his putting himself to a test, which he was now failing miserably. When he touched her for the first time and felt her hand warm in his, the growing restlessness inside him made him lead her into whirling around faster and faster and faster to the music. But this did not help. When they had reached a certain speed, Elizabeth had tossed her head backwards and closed her eyes. This did nothing but disconcert him and bewilder the people watching. Now she was glaring at him like she usually did and he nearly beat himself for actually enjoying being glared at. He let himself intensely be dragged into her blue orbs, which were now darkened by the dim light of the room and the dark red of her gown.
"I wonder why you even bothered coming." She was saying.
"Justine is my cousin, too."
"Well, you obviously abhor Hertfordshire."
"Only because you are in it." He said with a smile, which she did not look up to see.
"You insufferable, insulting, scheming..." Her feet barely touched the floor as he suddenly led her faster yet.
"I am your cousin, mind you."
"I wish I were fostered."
"What if I say that you are?"
She looked up sharply at him.
"Well, you do look nothing like your parents." He countered. "The Bingleys were lucky you turned out resembling my mother if only a bit, so that could be their excuse for having a dark haired child. You do know you were initially fair, but let us say they thought you would keep that way as you grew, which, by being of obviously different breeding, you did not."
Elizabeth gasped.
"Oh, it is nothing to be ashamed of..."
"How dare you even imply such thing!?"
The music stopped and William suddenly halted.
"You wished for it. You said it yourself!"
"Argh!"
She attempted to stalk off and he was ready to ponder on how many times she had done so in the past weeks, but found himself laughing out loud as she took one step and nearly fell from dizziness. How he was not under the same condition, he could not even imagine, but he managed to grab her arm and keep her up straight.
"Stop laughing at my expense!" She demanded angrily.
This did nothing but send him on another sequence of sputters.
"You are insufferable!"
However angry, there was nothing she could do but allow him to escort her back to her parents by taking his offered arm.
Chapter 11
As if he did not know! He spinned me in that dance floor and dared to tease me insufferably! How I loathe you, William Darcy!
The carriage's familiar leather seat was met with relief and Elizabeth stretched her sore feet out from under her skirts for just a moment, in order to relieve her numb toes. Since they were caught inside the tiny black slippers, her efforts were most in vain. She soon heard the door of the vehicle open and watched as her mother dropped onto the seat across from her. Mrs. Bingley, however, was far from possessing the pretty freshness her daughter did in her indignation. She looked pale, tired, and feverish.
"Mama! How-"
Mrs. Bingley put out a trembling hand as she adjusted the blue skirts in her seat and struggled with the tight corset.
"I am just tired. Your father is worried enough as it is - I will not have you so either."
Elizabeth tried to protest, but nothing came out of her mouth. The mere image of her mother sitting there weak and forlorn made her heart ache. From anger she went into concern. As her father sat himself next to his wife in the carriage, Elizabeth managed to shake herself out of the dread she was now into and watched silently as her father arranged it so he would have the ailing woman resting against his shoulder. Mrs. Bingley quietly submitted herself to the comfortable position and closed her eyes when the strong arm passed itself around her delicate shoulders and pressed her warmly against its owner.
"Papa," Elizabeth said barely above a whisper, "you must send for the local doctor as soon as we reach Netherfield."
"I already asked Darcy to do that, dearest."
Nodding slowly, she turned to look bitterly out of the window at the fading signs of winter outside. The weather was turning - that much she knew - and soon it would be spring. She would be back in London, among the shrills of laughter and side comments of society, sporting her glamorous silks and muslin, acting like the lady she was supposed to be.
But that would not be if her mother fell ill. She knew she would be back in Wragby before it was due, and the only factor that made that painful was knowing that she would not be willing at all to delight in being home at long last. With Mrs. Bingley in poor health, the house was never alive and comfortable. It was an empty mansion with sombre servants, an errant master, and a walking corpse for a master's daughter who spent half the time reading to the invalid and sleeping on chairs. Elizabeth had lived with times like these ever since she was a child and the mere thought of such happenings made her shiver with fear and dread.
She started fidgeting with her hands until her fingers got sore and when the carriage finally reached Netherfield, Elizabeth was relieved into numbness as she saw that the doctor had arrived before them.
Mrs. Bingley was retrieved from the vehicle by her husband, who carried her into the manor still unconscious, much to the shock of the lady's sisters, who were assembled in the foyer. When Elizabeth walked into the house, almost breaking apart with errant sobs that escaped her throat, the ladies rushed to her in apprehension.
"Mrs. Thompson, make sure some tea gets ready for Miss Beth." Said Mrs. Darcy, as she took her niece by the hands and dragged her to the drawing room.
Elizabeth was sat into an armchair. On one of its arms sat Mrs. Fawley and at the other, the lady's daughter.
"It will be all right, Beth," said Margaret softly, "she just tired herself at the assembly."
"Meg is right," said Mrs. Fawley, "you do not need to worry yourself sick over Jane. She is strong and the doctor is with her."
With such words, one was expected to calm him or herself, but Elizabeth was tense until she was given a cup of hot tea, which she drank avidly. The trembling stopped, her hands grew warm and still in her cousin's, and she leaned back into the seat. Her eyes grew tired, even if they were still troubled, and she nearly fell asleep. However, the doctor walked into the room right at the moment she had closed them, making her start fully awake.
"Miss Bingley," the old man said, "I just spoke with your father and he told me to come and confer with you myself - he has already retired to his chambers - Your mother is fine. She is not in any danger. All she needs is rest."
Elizabeth swayed only once with relief, but was balanced by Margaret's steady hand.
"Thank you, sir. Thank you so much."
The doctor affably smiled at the passionate young woman before him.
"Say nothing, child. Tomorrow morning I will be back to see if she is better indeed."
Elizabeth sank back into the seat with a content smile as the doctor departed. Her aunt Fawley patted her hand, Margaret beamed, and Mrs. Darcy sighed with relief.
"You should retire as well, dearest." Said Mrs. Darcy, while getting up from her seat and dusting her evening gown with her small hands.
"Not before I get a book from the library," Elizabeth sighed, "I have a feeling I will not get much sleep tonight. Whenever mama is ill, I get too anxious to do anything else. Care to join me, Meg?"
Margaret nodded and got up from the chair she was occupying. They both slipped away from the room after kissing the older women goodnight.
Elizabeth and Margaret both stopped in front of the library door, fearing to intrude on the men's privacy. As far as they were concerned, only Mr. Bingley had retired and the lads, so to speak, were in the billiard room. Elizabeth pushed the door open and entered the room as quietly as she could.
"Well, well, well...look who decided to join us," Bennet's voice uttered from where he was, "I heard the good news, Beth. What a relief!"
Elizabeth smiled at her cousin who was lounged on a sofa with a pair of large feet turned to the fire burning in the fireplace and a glass of brandy in his hand.
"You seem very comfortable, Ben. But no, we are not here to intrude on your privacy." She said, addressing the two other gentlemen who were occupying the armchairs available - one of them so with seething anger escaping her blue eyes. "We merely came after books."
"Nonsense!" Said Bennet. "You are not intruding at all."
"Yes," chimed in John, waving a cigar in his hand, "you should stay and read here with us. Ben's far too drunk to say anything comprehensible and all William cares about is reading that pathetic book of his. Besides, I pride in the fact that I can have great discussions with my very well educated sister and cousin."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "That is good to hear, cousin. For there are certain gentlemen who seem to think that all women care about is mindless gossip and incessant idle chatter."
William looked up from his book without retrieving the pair of spectacles he wore when reading.
"I did not mean that women are that way. I meant-"
"That I was like that, Cousin Darcy. I know your opinion of me. And before you say anything else I will point out that you just admitted that you were the one who said such thing, since I did not mention who the gentlemen were."
He just scowled. "You seem to enjoy distorting every word that comes out of my mouth."
"And you, sir, seem to enjoy making a fool of yourself by belittling those around you."
Bennet was heard to snort loudly and John choked on his smoke. Elizabeth looked at her cousins with a playful smile on her lips as she went to peruse the shelves for a book. She picked one out quickly enough and settled in an armchair near the fire. Opening the volume, she looked up to see William intently looking at her. Frowning, she went back to the book.
John Fawley turned the amber liquid in his glass against the glow of the fire and watched it swirl. He lit another smoke and puffed a cloud away.
"How do you fancy the Claytons?" He asked as a way to start making conversation.
"Too restricted," said Bennet, "I would never dare to imagine one of them jumping into the brook like Beth did."
Margaret smiled from where she sat in an armchair next to the sofa Bennet was lying in.
"One does not refrain from jumping into a brook from restriction," said William, "but from common sense."
Bennet's eyes widened and he looked at Elizabeth to see what she was going to do. He was sure the red glow in her cheeks was not due to sitting too close to the fireplace and giving the spectacle he had witnessed at the assemblies involving his brother and his friend, he promptly perched himself on the sofa to watch.
With her eyes matching unburned charcoal, Elizabeth glared at William darkly.
"One jumps into the brook from pure joy in playing with her cousins. Something you, sir, should try. The cold water would do you wonders."
"I thank you, Miss Bingley." He smirked sarcastically, while going back to his book.
"I appreciate your gratitude, Mr. Darcy." She said in the same degree of sarcasm as he, while leafing through her own volume herself. "After all, an insignificant being such as myself should be honoured to hear such kindness from the likes of you."
She got up from her seat.
"Since I only came here for a book to read in bed, I shall be gone now. I have to sit with my mother tomorrow morning."
Margaret got up from her seat in a sputter of giggles and choked laughter, which she delivered as soon as she followed Elizabeth out of the room after excusing herself with mumbled words.
Bennet, who was on the verge of laughter himself, only raised his glass as she passed him. "Good night, my dears!"
They did not notice that William was left to look after the closed door with a hurtful look in his brown eyes. John Fawley dug his cigar in the ashtray with a grimace, saying he should be gone as well, leaving the two brothers alone.
Bennet leaned back into the sofa with a sigh, drinking the rest of his brandy and setting the empty glass on the arm of the sofa where his head lay. He closed his eyes and started whistling a tune.
William got up and poured himself a dose of brandy. Bennet continued to whistle in spite of his brother's mumbling for him to stop. The nuisance lasted for three minutes more.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, stop that!" William finally said.
"What!?" His brother complained.
"That noise you are trying to turn into melody."
"Father taught me to whistle when I was but five. You envy me that much for my skills? I must say I do not have an ounce of envy for your dancing!"
William only grumbled.
He walked over to the armchair Elizabeth had been occupying and sunk into it slowly, almost as if he were trying to slip into her very essence. He thought of each time when they were children, when she would raise an eyebrow at him, always seeming to disturbingly want to know what he was thinking. When they were children, it bothered him because it exposed him. Now it was that and more - his mouth would go dry, his breath would catch in his throat as if a knot formed in his lungs, and his heart would nearly beat a hole through his chest...The image of Elizabeth Bingley was quickly replaced by that of his brother's and he painfully glanced at Bennet's glowing head as he lay on the couch with his eyes closed.
"She is an angel, is she not, Will?" His brother put in quietly.
The blood drained from William's face and he thanked the gods for the flames still being high enough to conceal it. He failed to notice that Bennet was looking at some other armchair - one that sat next to the sofa he was in.
William uttered a sigh and placed his troubled eyes in the now nonsensical open page in front of him.
"I suppose she is." He replied quietly, with as little emotion as he could manage. "She has whom to take after."
"She does." Bennet sighed and then mumbled something that sounded like "How sweetly she takes after her aunt."
William lifted his eyes once again and stared at the back of his brother's head. A vision of the quiet, sweet Miss Fawley burned at the back of his head with newly gained insistence. If Elizabeth did not return his brother's feelings...Every time he seemed to catch her teasing or laughing at his brother, it was not in any different manner than how she treated anyone else she teased and laughed at. She could seeem close to Bennet all he dared to imagine, but there was no proof that her affections were those of a sister or a friend. If Bennet should profess his love to her and should she refuse...What would happen then? The path would be clear for him to seek her attentions perhaps, but his brother's heart would be broken and so would be Margaret's.
He looked intensely at Bennet and his drunken, passion-fed sighs.
I will talk to him again in the morning. There is no way this nonsense must continue. There will be far too much hurt if this situation persists. I will talk to Mother and Father in the morning and make our excuses to the Bingleys. This must end and then all will be well, I should hope.
He closed his book with all the strength of his decision, but then let his shoulders slump with the burning truth.
All will be well with them, Darcy, but not with you.
Chapter 12
The mare's breath was hot on her face, and she slid her hand up and down the animal's head, soothing, comforting, and saying a bunch of nothings meant to make their time together even more enjoyable. Under the folds of her pastel-coloured morning dress, a pair of riding boots could be discerned - and fastened at the waist, a pair of worn gloves and a horsewhip. The smell of manure and hay barely matched the scene that unfolded in the stables, as its only human occupant stood on her tiptoes so she could reach the mare's ears to gingerly rub them with her bare fingers. With her head hidden underneath a hat, Elizabeth was giving a final pat on Dakota's head as she heard steps coming from behind her.
"Up and about already, are you?" The tone was teasing, but awkwardly different over the usual noise made by the equines.
Bennet placed his hand on the mare's neck and smoothed the chestnut hair as his cousin stepped sideways to make room for the two of them. Elizabeth smiled mildly at him. She had been with her mother from the time the first sunrays had invaded her room that morning. Her past worries about Mrs. Bingley's health vanished; all that was left was the desire to make her mother comfortable and apt to go up and about sooner. Elizabeth had eaten at Mrs. Bingley's bedside, engaging her in casual conversations about when the Jefferson-Clayton wedding would be taking place and making plans for the other wedding they were to attend in the family - the one of Marianne Filmont and her Mr. Ashton. Provisions to return to London and make haste to Linton Park in a month being discussed, Elizabeth left her mother to her rest and her husband's cheering company, much in need of some sort of exercise.
Looking it up and down, she inspected Bennet's attire and nearly laughed. With a teasing smile, she made it to scrutinise his choice of clothing.
"What are you doing dressed as if you were about to ride to Scotland?" She asked as she took in his brown riding coat, matching boots, comfortable-looking breeches, and the top hat that he held in his other hand.
"Did not anyone tell you?" He asked with bitterness suddenly taking over his voice. "There is business to be dealt with in London and Will and I are leaving today."
"You cannot!" She gasped.
His eyes clouded over mysteriously. "We have to. Will says we ought - it is quite an emergency."
Bennet turned sideways, his eyes full of hurt and Elizabeth could not help but get extremely confused. She searched his turned face with her eyebrows knit in worry, thinking about Margaret all the time. What could have possibly happened for him to be this distraught and...Sad? For it was sadness she saw marring his face and glazing his brown eyes with a fuzzy mist. She tried in vain to make him meet her eyes, but telepathy was suddenly something reserved for the siblings they weren't. She slowly crept out the hand she was not using to hold the horse by the reigns with and slowly placed it on his coat's sleeve. He abruptly pulled out the arm, making it seem that her touch had somehow burned him. This alarmed her rather than hurt her, but it did not take long for his frown and the lingering troubled expression on his face stab through her like a knife.
"Please, Beth..." His voice cracked as he avoided her eyes. "Do not do this to me. You are practically my sister and it is too painful already. If you say anything I'll wager I will not be able to live with myself any longer."
Elizabeth was beyond confused. What was that all about?
"I will ask you one favour, though." Bennet said, after taking a deep breath. "Please apologise for my not taking my leave from her, will you, Beth? Lord knows I cannot. After all I have done...I know it was not much, but they always say that little actions say more than words and I am sorry I ever put it out there in this way. I should have known better."
"Wh-what is it that you mean, Ben?" She whispered, her heart racing with some absurd hope.
Instead of answering, Bennet's eyes only lowered themselves to the ground and he shook his head negatively with a frown. Elizabeth stood aghast, watching the young man many had mistaken for her brother. The brown curls they shared fell on his forehead like it did when they were children, his lashes dropped on his cheeks. He was nagging on his lower lip, apparently thinking hard, and although it seemed a stupid time to do so, Elizabeth thought she was envisioning her uncle on the day her grandfather had died. He made to move, shook his head to clear his thoughts, and walked over to the mare. He took the reigns out of her hand without a saying a single word.
Perhaps this was all a mistake, she countered, but something must have happened to make him so grim and lifeless all of a sudden. He looked hurt - wounded to the depths of his soul.
She felt inclined to shake him by the lapel of his coat and ask him what the matter was - demand to know what had happened - but he was already pulling the mare out of the stable and she knew he would never answer her. He was as stubborn as she was, that much she knew. With a steady hand, he held the animal still, while offering his free one to Elizabeth. Helplessly puzzled by his proffered words and unanswered questions, she took it and mounted on the side-saddle with a grim countenance.
Every question that popped inside her head seemed suddenly inappropriate as she reminded herself that Bennet had never really professed his love for their cousin.
But it had all seemed so right and clear. And he said that actions do mean more than words.
He finally spoke. "I am so sorry, Beth. You do know I...I consider you the sister my mother never gave me."
She grabbed the reigns with both her hands and made the mare take a couple of steps forward. Bennet was not looking at her and so he failed to notice that instead of being marred by his words, she just looked confused by the sudden profession of his affection to her. Shaking her head with the absurdity of it all, Elizabeth faintly smiled in an attempt to show him that she was not quite broken with their departure and that she was merely confused by it all. He never the saw the smile, though, and at the face of such obvious misery on his part, she felt like she would at least grant his wish. She placed a stray ringlet behind her ear and cleared her throat. The voice that came out was bitter, though.
"I will, Ben. I will say your goodbyes to her. I hope you and William have a safe journey."
Bennet put on his top hat without daring to look up at her and seemed to smile sadly at this.
"Oh, yes." His words came out in a pitying manner. "He will appreciate the gesture, the poor fellow."
Elizabeth blinked at the heart-breaking sigh that followed this comment and frowned. She even opened her mouth to ask what William had to do with any of it, but closed it, not quite able to formulate the question. Bennet grabbed her gloved hand and kissed it quickly, shortly turning on his heel and walking over to the horse he had been using while at Netherfield. He took the animal out and hastily walked away without turning back.
Neither had realised or seen that William Darcy had been quietly watching them from the stable door for as long as their interaction had taken place, and that an expression of utter suffering was marring his features under his own top hat. His and Bennet's conversation early that morning had taken its toll on him. However drained, he found enough strength to just see her for a last time before they left. Concealing his presence from his brother, he climbed on his horse and galloped away to Netherfield's front gate, from where they would depart to London.
Chapter 15
The carriage trudged slowly on the street and came to a slow stop. Never one to do well in closed quarters, its occupant was anxious to get out. She relished when the door finally opened and a hand was placed before her, which she took with a grateful nod. The young woman smiled, rubbed her gloved hands, eyed the puffed sleeves of her dress with something bordering on dismay, and turned to search for her company.
"Look! There she is!"
"Beth!"
Elizabeth Bingley turned around and grinned when she saw Henry Curwood and Margaret Fawley scrambling to meet her. After a fortnight spent in the silence of lazy afternoons provided by the company of her parents in the country, Elizabeth glowed with joy as she found herself in London, its populated streets, and its general bustle. The change was a welcome one after the troubling month spent in Hertfordshire and she was even happier to be in Town when Margaret wrote to her from there to say that even though arrangements were being made for her trip to Cornwall, she would still spend a few weeks in London with her parents. Elizabeth gladly told her parents that she would have qualms as to returning and now she stood in Hyde Park, meeting Henry and Margaret as if it had been ages since she had last seen them.
But as she beamed under her hat, she could not refrain from remembering that one person was missing in the picture and other lines of the letter sent to her from Margaret two days after the Fawleys' leaving Netherfield Park suddenly darted across her mind with nagging persistency.
'...John and I went to call on the Darcys today. Apparently, Aunt Lizzy and Uncle Darcy came to London to meet with her sons before heading to Derbyshire. Our aunt received us very warmly, even if her demeanour was an uneasy one, and she told us that even if the arrangement was that they would meet with them in London, Bennet has left for Derbyshire by himself already, claiming that he was feeling indisposed to be in Town. Cousin William arrived shortly from the club during our visit and he was all odd about Bennet's leaving. He was as silent as ever, forever nodding to what Aunt Lizzy said...'
Elizabeth shook her head to clear her thoughts and smiled as she exchanged pleasantries with the younger Mr. Curwood. She had missed Henry when all that confusion had suddenly engrossed itself in heartbreak and hasty departures.
"How was the country?" He asked politely.
"It was fine. There was not much to do after everyone left," she said, directing her words to Margaret, "but I found pleasant company in our Clayton cousins."
"I hope you kept out of the brook." Henry said with a smile.
Elizabeth feigned to be indignant. "Meg! Already blurting out things you should not?"
Henry laughed. "No. You will have to knock on Darcy's door for that one. But I am assuming you did quite the opposite."
She grinned widely, even if checking Margaret at the mention of Bennet's name. Her friend seemed unaffected, however, as she was smiling as well.
"Of course. Say, how is little Anne?"
Henry smiled at the mention of his little ten-year-old sister who was attending boarding school in France.
"She is doing well. Mama is going to visit her this Easter and then bring her back in the summer."
"She must be quite a grown young lady by now. Oh, how we used to corrupt this child when we were younger! No wonder your mother sent her to school away from us."
Henry laughed. "Mother assures me that she has quite outgrown the corruption." And upon seeing the alarmed look on Elizabeth's face as she seemed shocked in thinking that Mrs. Curwood thought her indeed capable of corrupting a child, he amended. "She did not put it in those exact words, but..."
"Grandmama called on us yesterday," Margaret quipped in, "she said she is all set to make you shine in Linton, Beth."
Elizabeth turned to glare at Henry when he smirked at that.
"What is she going to do?" She asked fearfully.
"She is only set on having the seamstress go to ---- St. so you can have new dresses made and see if new bonnets, hats, gloves, and shawls are bought for you."
"Papa will be delighted for sure." She said with mirth.
Margaret smiled. "Oh, Beth... I would think your father rather indulgent in this point."
She sighed. "I know. If I show any interest in whatever Grandmama is up to, he will buy everything I set my eyes on. Or maybe he will just thrown her out of the house. Depends on Uncle Darcy being around...I think papa rather measures Grandmama's follies by Uncle Darcy's reaction to them. "
"The Darcys left for Derbyshire yesterday." Henry quipped in. "I know because Aunt Darcy went to call on Mother the day before and told her so."
"Then we will be somewhat shorter of money for this next season." She said mock misery and then sobered up, glancing at Margaret and seeing that perhaps it would be fine to ask what she was about to. "How does Aunt Lizzy fare? Is she very much concerned for Ben still?"
"He wrote her saying that his health is very much improved. Apparently it is nothing but a mere indisposition."
"I see." Said Elizabeth, her lips tight.
"You need not sound so, Beth." Said Henry, rather concerned. "I realise they were rather obtuse in their leaving Hertfordshire, but they did have business here in Town, regarding some land Uncle Darcy is buying for William around Pemberley. And our uncle is very particular about having them both dealing with business concerning their future so they can start getting around to it and he set them both about it this time. An urgent matter came up and they both had to come."
"He still could have sounded less lame upon explaining matters." She said angrily while capturing the dismayed look on Margaret's face.
Had not she finished the sentence, Elizabeth perceived a young lady looking at them from where she stood, not ten feet away. She held a parasol above her head as she spoke to another two women of her age, but seemed not so engaged in their conversation as she was busy watching the three of them. When Elizabeth met her eyes, the woman did not turn away, but rather kept on looking. She had a familiar way about her, Elizabeth noticed, in the golden glints of her caramel-coloured curls and mild brown eyes. She was very prim and elegant, in a fashionable cream-coloured dress with very full skirts. With her hair pulled away from her face she looked remarkably aristocratic and very pleasant, but Elizabeth decided she definitely resembled someone she knew in certain traits, such as the way she held her parasol or how she often covered her mouth when laughing. Her smile reminded her severely of her Aunt Kitty and her gentle manners those of her own mother. She glanced at Margaret, who was the closest reference when it came to finding resemblance to Mrs. Bingley and perceived that indeed the girl she was looking at did have the same air as hers, even when she did not match Margaret and her mother in their similar perfect features.
With so much familiarity and the strange way the woman was looking at her, she did not find herself one bit surprised when the ladies turned to look at them. Elizabeth tried to look away, but failed miserably at being discreet.
"Is there something the matter, Beth?" Asked Margaret.
"There certainly is," quipped in Henry, "she hardly heard a word I said."
"Meg," she said in a low whisper, "do you recognise that lady?"
"The short one?" Asked Henry.
Elizabeth cut him off. "No, the tall one in the cream-coloured dress. Do you know her?"
Margaret frowned when glancing discreetly at the women. "Well, you shall certainly find out now. They are approaching us."
Elizabeth turned around and found out that indeed, the three women were walking towards them, the one she found so amazingly intriguing leading the other two in decided steps.
The young woman stopped and Elizabeth calculated that she must have been only a couple years older than herself. She was smiling at them serenely and tilted her head sideways when she finally addressed her.
"You are Miss Elizabeth Bingley and Miss Margaret Fawley, am I mistaken?"
Elizabeth smiled. "Indeed you are not. But I apologise, for we do not recognise you."
"I am Mrs. Robert Pratt, but I suppose that at the occasion we met, I was far too young to be married. My maiden name is Wickham. Fanny Wickham."