Section I, Next Section
Part One
The normal and indeed only thing to do when there is to be a new addition to the neighbourhood is to engage in speculation and gossip about this person -- or persons, as the case may be. In defence of the established society it must be said that nothing is more important than knowing what this society might be facing in the future after welcoming this new addition into their midst.
There are always certain expectations that the neighbourhood may have of the new arrival, not to mention their fears of losing what they have been clinging to in peace and tranquillity for the past decades or centuries. New arrivals might trigger an upsetting process of far-reaching changes if they are not carefully monitored by those more knowledgeable about local mores.
In short, it is vital, absolutely vital that such matters are discussed before even laying eyes on the person in question.
One must of course meet him with specific questions and preconceived notions in mind. After he has been met there will be and there should be ample time to correct these initial impressions and to discuss one's findings with one's neighbours to see if their views are compatible. It cannot be so that a new person is allowed to move into the neighbourhood at his own leisure. People having this opinion are sorely mistaken and they will find this opinion subtly or not so subtly corrected once they have to deal with new arrivals or new societies. People do not move anywhere for their own pleasure. They move somewhere to serve the needs of the receiving society.
A greying society will need some young and fresh blood to liven things up and to organise balls for the dying species of the young, who might otherwise move away and leave the aged to complain about rheumatism and the weather and the days when things were still good.
A lively society full of young unmarried women, with plenty of balls and families to dine with, will need a steady influx of young men, so this too will not become a greying society with a dwindling number of families to visit.
The neighbourhood around Meryton had plenty of families with unmarried daughters. In order to keep on boasting of the high number of respectable families they could dine with, it was imperative to get those daughters married so they could start families of their own. It was unfortunate that the neighbourhood did not contain as many unmarried men, however, and Meryton was largely dependent on the outside world to cater to the wishes of their more discerning girls.
The advent of a young bachelor into their neighbourhood could only lead to excitement and high expectations all around, especially when he was rumoured to be moving into one of the largest houses in the neighbourhood.
Mr Bingley was his name and he had first looked at Netherfield and then taken possession of it!
Word had spread very quickly between Mr Bingley's looking at the house and his moving into it and it was universally believed that he would not be living there alone. He was unmarried, but he seemed to be very fond of friends and good company. Given the unlikelihood of Mr Bingley's having solely female acquaintances, his friends could not be anything other than men. And considering that Mr Bingley was young, his friends almost certainly had to be young as well!
Several mouths figuratively watered at the prospect.
There had been much speculation and conjecture as to the exact composition of Mr Bingley's party of friends. It was rumoured in very concerned whispers that Mr Bingley had gone to London to get even more ladies, in addition to the expected five, but when his party entered the Assembly it consisted of only two ladies and seven gentlemen. Many mothers were reassured and many young men were disappointed.
Bingley had brought with him his two sisters, his brother-in-law, his brother and four friends. Especially the large number of friends pleased the local ladies -- indeed, the choice rather overwhelmed them and for the first few minutes they could not quite decide who was to be their favourite. They all had such large incomes and such tall, fine figures.
It was fortunate, then, that Mr Bingley's friends did not possess his easy manners. Indeed, several were suspected of not possessing any manners at all! They were looked at with great admiration for half the evening, until their lack of manners gave such disgust as to turn everyone against them. Not even their large fortunes and handsome countenances could make up for that. They were discovered to be exceedingly proud.
Had Mr Bingley and his brother not been so agreeable and handsome, the assembly would have been most insupportable indeed. Mr Bingley and his brother were equally handsome, equally well-mannered and equally interested in meeting as many people as possible. Within five minutes of their entrance people had unanimously decided that the Bingleys were wonderful gentlemen.
Upon closer acquaintance one of the brothers was found to possess a somewhat greater understanding than the other, but this was overlooked in the felicity of his manners. Who listened to what he said if he said it nicely? The intention mattered more than the actual message.
Jane would never discriminate against anyone for that reason and it was Jane they were very interested in. There was no mistaking the primary object of their attentions. Meryton allowed it to be so, for Jane was beyond a doubt the most beautiful girl at the assembly.
Mr Charles Bingley and his brother Clarence also agreed on that point. They declared Jane to be an absolute angel and if their sweet tempers had allowed for any arguments they would have had some over who got to dance with Jane first. As it was, the eldest brother was first, the younger accepted this in good humour and they were both extremely happy.
Mrs Bennet was supremely gratified, as if she was the one who received all the attention and not Jane. She watched the brothers gleefully and boasted of it to her friends, already visualising Jane married to one of them, perhaps another of her girls to the younger brother and the rest to his friends.
While Mrs Bennet was getting carried away by her imagination, there was no other option left for the rest of the people present than to indulge in some evaluative criticism of the rest of the party.
Part Two
Within moments of their entrance it had become clear that the four other gentlemen were brothers and it had not taken very many more moments to find out that not only the eldest was interesting, but that the younger three also had more money than one could reasonably hope for. Their names had likewise been discovered, but not yet their order of birth, even though it was really only important to establish who was the eldest and not so much who was third.
Mrs Bennet's hopes of any of her daughters becoming Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mrs George Darcy, Mrs Andrew Darcy or Mrs Lewis Darcy were dashed when said gentlemen did not display any interest whatsoever in her daughters or indeed in any people present -- which admittedly did a tiny bit to soothe her wounded motherly pride, for if they would not have her daughters, they had better not want any at all. They walked here and they walked there, without giving consequence to anyone outside their party.
Mrs Bennet, who with five daughters felt she was being done a far greater injustice than anyone else, was among those who were most violently decided against Mr Bingley's friends. She was indescribably vexed, but her vexation was in a sense very fortunate: it gave her and her friends ample material for discussion and Mrs Bennet was not one to dwell on one emotion for too long. She could go from praising the Bingleys' virtues to the Darcys' vices in an instant and back again in the next. Variety was the keyword.
Elizabeth would have been able to look upon the newcomers with perfect equanimity had not several instances happened to develop a pronounced dislike of the Messrs Darcy. None of them danced, but that would have been forgivable in young gentlemen had they possessed admirable qualities that made up for such a deficiency.
They were handsome, but they did not smile. They had fine figures, but they did not dance. They were obviously educated, but they did not converse. They were unmarried, but they did not look at ladies. It was unforgivable. How was Meryton to survive such an affront?
Elizabeth prided herself on sometimes having opinions that were different from those commonly held in Meryton, but in this case she could not help but lead the way. She was now personally affected. Of course she had seen the high and mighty Darcy brothers stalk through the room without condescending to speak to anyone but each other, so her heart had certainly not been filled with generous sentiments towards them, but she would never have guessed them to be capable of personal insults.
Naturally within ten minutes it had been revealed who was who, which was indeed the only characteristic by which they could be distinguished. All four were tall, dark, handsome and exquisitely dressed. The eldest had nine thousand a year. The other brothers had smaller, but still adequate fortunes.
Gentlemen were scarce, yet Elizabeth perceived that the Darcy brothers only danced with Bingley's sisters, who were therefore practically the only ladies who were never without partners. The Bingley brothers were at least kind enough to be of service to other ladies who wished to dance. Both of them danced with Jane, but the Darcy brothers did not seem so inclined, let alone inclined to dance with Jane's younger sisters or any of their friends.
Elizabeth caught herself admiring George Darcy's fine form as he strolled past with his brother Andrew, but she quickly recollected herself when he was addressed by the elder Bingley brother, Charles. "I must have you dance, George!" said Charles.
George Darcy looked around himself with a contemptuous eye. The corners of his mouth turned down when he saw nothing that could inspire any feelings of excitement in him. "Good heavens, Bingley. I have never seen a collection of uglier girls. No wonder they are sitting out. Just because you like dancing does not mean everyone else is stupid as well."
Bingley looked taken aback at the insult, but he quickly passed over it and turned to the other brother. "Well...Andrew? How about you? One of you must dance."
Andrew Darcy shook his head and looked angry at being spoken to. He glanced around, but averted his eyes with a guilty expression when he saw Elizabeth was looking back at him. He mumbled something inaudible.
Elizabeth was appalled. They were horrible! How could these people be Bingley's friends? One said quite clearly that they were all ugly and that Bingley was stupid, and the other talked about her behind her back. She turned to Charlotte to talk about it, but Charlotte was engaged in a conversation with someone else and Elizabeth could only grind her teeth and suffer. Without an opportunity to vent, she grew more and more indignant.
Elizabeth was dancing when she overheard another conversation, this time between Clarence Bingley and Lewis Darcy. "Why did you not ask a lady to dance? They are all uncommonly pretty and uncommonly clever!" said Clarence, who was having great fun dancing with Lydia. "And there are so many sitting out!"
"These country wenches?" Lewis said with a contemptuous snarl. There was no fashion or elegance in the room, let alone any beauty. "Perhaps Fitzwilliam feels the need?" he said mockingly to his grave-looking brother.
"Please do not bother me," Fitzwilliam retorted. "I am in no humour to dance with anybody, least of all young ladies that even you are slighting." He quickly glanced from Lydia to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth stifled a gasp and a comment. After this personal affront, she was now as vehemently decided against the Darcys as anyone could be. They could not be liked, but she did not know which one she disliked most. She was dying to know what Charlotte's opinion on the subject was.
"Oh, did you hear them?" Elizabeth asked as soon as she could get hold of Charlotte. She felt quite excited, but outraged in particular.
"Who?" Charlotte thought it more practical to establish what the topic of conversation was first.
"The Darcys!"
"No, I did not hear them. They have hardly spoken to anybody."
"Exactly!"
"Could anyone blame them? I am sure there are not many people that interest them." Charlotte certainly did not think that she qualified herself. She was realistic enough for that. "They are used to moving in the highest circles of fashionable people. Hardly to be found here."
"But the Bingleys...they certainly do not feel themselves to be above their present company." They ought to take the Bingleys for models.
"Indeed, they do not," Charlotte agreed. The Bingleys were pleasant gentlemen, but not quite of the same class as the Darcys. She swallowed her comment about Mr Clarence Bingley's mind. She had merely danced with him, after all, and he might improve upon closer acquaintance. "They are certainly very pleasant young men." Too young for her, but most men were nowadays.
"They know how to behave. The Darcys do not," Elizabeth maintained stubbornly. She would not stop until someone agreed with her.
"I am sure they do." Charlotte had not seen anything amiss. They walked about very proudly, but that was all. She had only heard negative reports from others and to be frank, it was not an unpleasant sight to watch fine young men walk around the room. Since she could not hope for anything more for herself, she was perfectly content with that and she did not care much about their characters.
"I told you what I heard them say."
"Yes, you did and I agree that it did not reflect very well on their characters, but Lizzy --" Neither of them was acquainted with the men or with the context in which these words had been spoken and Lizzy was prone to jumping to conclusions sometimes.
"They are entitled to bad manners because they are rich?" Elizabeth fumed. She did not agree with that thought at all. They had no right to be insulting to people they did not even know.
"They are entitled to some pride, which is all I have noticed about them and truly, Lizzy, they cannot all of them be bad."
"They are all bad. You have heard me tell you what they said!" Not one of them had said anything that could be interpreted as positive. "You cannot deny that it was all bad."
"The things you have told me did indeed not sound as though the gentlemen are very good-tempered, so I was perhaps mistaken when I discerned some gentleness in Mr Andrew's expression."
Elizabeth would not have it. There could not be any gentleness in any Darcy's expression. "He was the worst! He looked at me and derided me. I daresay it was wishful thinking on your part, Charlotte. You hoped they might be agreeable and therefore you interpreted everything they did as being agreeable, projecting all sorts of agreeable qualities onto them, but you will now agree with me that it was not sound. I daresay it was a twitch in his face. Gentleness! You cannot base your opinion of him on a mere twitch."
Charlotte looked amused. "Indeed I cannot."
"Well, then!"
"I agree with you," Charlotte said gravely. "They are perfectly disagreeable and I shall not be swayed by mere twitches. One example is not conclusive. We should not base our opinion of anyone on a single example."
Part Three
Elizabeth was determined to tease all Darcy brothers with their faults. There was nothing more amusing than poking fun at the ridiculous and the brothers certainly possessed some ridiculous faults. They deserved to be laughed at.
It was inevitable that they should meet again. The next opportunity was a gathering at Lucas Lodge, where most people seemed to be enjoying themselves, except for a few who would not be having a good time anywhere.
The entertainment was insupportable, as far as the Darcys were concerned. Some people were even dancing! They stood watching it in disapproval. The noise took away every opportunity for civil conversation among those who did not care to make a spectacle of themselves. One practically had to raise one's voice in order to be heard simply because some people did not know how to conduct themselves properly.
"Insufferable," Lewis Darcy hissed. The brothers were standing in a group in a corner -- tall, dark and forbidding. As they appeared to desire only their own company, nobody dared to approach them.
Elizabeth was seated near them, though not quite with the intention to eavesdrop, but rather because the rooms in Lucas Lodge were not very large. With one side of the room taken up by the dancers, all the rest could only seek refuge at the other end, where there was a choice between watching the dancers, listening to or joining Mrs Bennet and friends in conversation, or observing the Darcys. Elizabeth could not help overhearing some things now and then.
"Can we go home?" George replied, surveying the room with a look of contempt. Neither he nor Lewis seemed to care that they could be overheard, but at least Lewis had not been specific. "It is a punishment to remain here. Andrew, are you for or against?"
Andrew gave no answer, but turned away. He would not be caught saying anything that could be heard by other people.
"Fitzwilliam?" George tried. "A pathetic dancer like you will agree with me."
"Will you behave?" Fitzwilliam retorted crossly. He had so many things on his mind that he really could not stand his brothers being childish and unmannered.
Elizabeth found his reprimand funny, considering that he was not behaving himself at all. How could he say anything about his brothers? And Fitzwilliam a pathetic dancer! Well, well! More flaws were coming to light. Surely someone in Fitzwilliam Darcy's position ought to be able to dance?
She saw that Sir William Lucas had positioned himself next to Fitzwilliam. A good host should not feel discouraged by his guests' aloofness. From to where their eyes travelled she could tell Sir William was talking about dancing, perhaps asking Fitzwilliam why he did not dance. That would be quite interesting to hear and Elizabeth contrived to walk past them to hear a glimpse of their conversation.
"Miss Bennet!" Instead of keeping up his conversation with Fitzwilliam Darcy, Sir William addressed her when she walked past.
She had not considered that possibility and she looked startled, especially when he took her hand. What did he want from her? Sir William did not usually take such liberties with young ladies.
"Do you not wish to dance? Mr Darcy, how could you not want to dance when so much beauty is before you?" Sir William exclaimed, thinking he was doing some people a very good favour. They had both spent a considerable time in this room already, both desperate to dance, but they had not noticed each other yet. He did not wonder how this could be -- intuition guided him. Mr Darcy must be in want of a young lady to dance with and here was one that walked past them, alone and available.
Mr Darcy did not even look sheepish or reluctant upon being offered a partner without having asked for it. He merely looked surprised.
Elizabeth was equally surprised, but she did not have the least intention of dancing and she told Sir William so. "Please do not think I only moved this way for that purpose," she added. Did he think she would?
"It would be my pleasure to dance with you," Fitzwilliam Darcy said gravely. There was nothing else he could say, whether he wanted to or not.
She stared at him. It had never occurred to her that anything might be Fitzwilliam's pleasure. If it was such a pleasure to him to dance with her, why did he need Sir William's prodding? Surely seeing other people dance and seeing her seated very near them would be enough to form some idea in his mind? Considering that Fitzwilliam made Sir William appear a quick thinker in comparison, he could not be honest. "Really, sir. I have no intention of dancing," she declined politely. She would not dance with a man who only offered out of politeness.
"You do not?" Sir William cried in amazement. He had judged this all wrong then. From overhearing some of the young ladies of the neighbourhood here in his own home on other occasions he had gathered that all young ladies were wild for dancing.
"No, sir," Elizabeth said with a determined smile. "Please excuse me." She walked on.
With Fitzwilliam Darcy still occupied by Sir William and Lewis and George engaged in criticising the dancers, there had been nothing to do for Andrew Darcy but to go over to the table with the refreshments and spend a long time there pretending to survey the food.
Elizabeth joined him, having nowhere else to go. Being a little puzzled by Fitzwilliam, for despite his lying he had been polite, she was determined to speak to another Darcy to have this misperception corrected again and upon the rare occasion of finding one alone, she seized her chance. "Do you not wish to dance, Mr Darcy?" She was sure he would say no and then she would ask him why, getting to the bottom of his arrogance.
Andrew's hand shook and he spilled some of his drink. He put down his glass. "Dance?" He repeated in confusion as if he did not know what the word meant. "No, I do not wish to dance."
"Why not?" Elizabeth inquired sweetly.
"I am not good at it." He stared at the stain he had made on the table cloth. Perhaps the stain and the young lady could both just go away, but he knew he would regret it if the lady did, because she was quite pretty.
She raised her eyebrows mockingly. "Surely it is one of the basic skills a gentleman needs?" Next to looking ladies in the eye, that was.
"I am not sure it is."
"Nowhere? Or simply not in this particular place?" She was certain he would say it was different here and that he danced everywhere else. She had all the Darcys figured out. They were rude and arrogant and they looked down on country gatherings.
"I am afraid that I do not particularly like it anywhere," Andrew replied cautiously.
"Not particularly? But you do like it a little elsewhere? More than here?" She knew the sort of answer she was after.
"No, not at all. I avoid it wherever I can."
"So you always stand in a corner to watch?" Elizabeth mocked. She had trouble believing him. No gentleman could escape dancing once in a while.
Andrew winced. "Usually," he mumbled.
"What is the fun in that?" she wondered. To spend an entire evening in such a manner would be extremely boring.
"I do not know." Andrew had not said there was any fun in it.
"Then why do you do it?"
He said nothing. He did not have much of a choice. Standing in a corner was all he could do, but it would be embarrassing to say so. He was making a rather poor impression on this lady.
Elizabeth felt a bit miffed that he did not deign to reply. "It seems a bit odd to me," she commented. "That you should do something without seeing any fun in it. I see some fun in any activity."
"Then you must also see the fun in standing out," Andrew retorted. He was shocked with himself for speaking and he coloured.
She gave him an arch smile, determined to treat their rude manners with sweetness to see how they would cope. "Indeed, but I like variety best of all and there is no fun in standing out the entire evening, depriving ladies of their chance to dance."
Andrew did not look as if he cared very much about that.
"You do not care about disappointing ladies?" Elizabeth inquired. "Perhaps none of your brothers do, since none of you dance." She shot a look at his brothers, two of whom were still talking to each other. The third was still pretending to listen to Sir William.
Andrew disliked asking a lady because she might say no, but if ladies offered themselves it was a little easier. "If you wish to er...dance I should be happy to er...oblige," he said with some difficulty.
His words surprised Elizabeth. "I do." That was all she could say, considering that she had just said she liked variety. Undoubtedly it was also an enormous feat to boast of if she could lure a Darcy to the dance floor. She let Andrew lead her to the rest of the dancers. When she happened to glance at the other Darcy brothers, she could see they were appalled and that they even moved closer to watch.
Andrew was an odd one -- dancing with great concentration and saying very little. He gave her some monosyllabic answers when she spoke, but he did not initiate any conversation. It made them the dullest couple on the floor. Elizabeth was not used to being part of the dullest couple. She wondered what to do about it, but Andrew did not seem to be capable of dancing and talking at the same time. Hardly any other dancing men were, judging from the many apologies that were passing back and forth between the other couples, but Andrew was the only one who seemed to care.
Halfway through the dance she wondered if Andrew was not arrogant, but simply dull. Dancing was supposed to be fun, not a performance. "Do you never talk while you are dancing?" she asked.
"I never dance," Andrew replied with a concentrated frown. "I...said so."
"But I did not believe you," Elizabeth smiled. "I thought you wanted to be modest about your dancing skills. For which gentleman never dances?"
"Me?" he suggested. Why was she teasing him? Had she never met any men who did not dance? That was odd, considering that her father did not seem the type to dance either, but he dared not say so in case he was wrong.
"That is very odd indeed!" she said with another smile to take the sting out of her words.
"That is the second time you called me odd." There was a hint of complaint in his voice, but something of a smile in his eyes. He could not be angry with her.
Elizabeth forgot her dance steps. "I beg your pardon," she said hastily and paid some better attention to her footwork. It was amazing what even a tiny glimmer of a smile could accomplish in his face -- although she should never forget that it was the face of a Darcy.
Part Four
Elizabeth found that Andrew more than made up for his painstaken dancing by getting her a drink afterwards. He was not so bad, even if he hardly spoke. They stood sipping their drinks in silence.
His brothers were still sneering in a corner, not spoken to by anyone except Sir William Lucas. It was not in that gentleman's nature to suppose that some of the Darcys might be harbouring unkind feelings towards him and he simply continued prattling.
Elizabeth viewed it in amusement. She was sure that the Darcys were not pleased with the attentions and she was glad that Sir William was not deterred. Let him bother them! She herself would bother Andrew by asking him questions about himself and his brothers. "Tell me, Mr Darcy," she began. "Do you have any more brothers or are we seeing them all?" They were a prolific family and it was not likely that these were the only siblings.
"No, Miss Bennet."
"No, there are no more, or no, you are seeing them all?"
"There are no more."
He could at least have told her if he had any sisters, even if her question had not been an invitation to go through his entire family tree with her. "And do you have any sisters?" Elizabeth inquired. Some people were just tiresome conversationalists. One had to drag everything out of them.
"Just one."
"Oh. Why is she not here?" There were ladies in the party, after all. Perhaps their sister was married.
"She is only sixteen."
"That is odd."
"Did you skip that age?" Andrew asked and then coloured because he had spoken so spontaneously. He saw nothing odd about being sixteen. Both of them had passed through that stage a few years ago.
"No, I did not and I did not mean to be impertinent." Elizabeth realised she had been rather forward. "She is much younger than you and your brothers, is she not?" She did not suppose any of the Darcys were younger than she was. They looked older.
"Yes, she is," said Andrew in his usual informative manner.
She wished he would give her some clue about their ages and order of birth. He was either not very bright or simply very reticent. "And which one of you is the youngest?"
Andrew looked as if he were asked a very private question. "We would rather not say."
"Why not?"
"My brothers will give me trouble if I do." He looked uneasy.
"Are you afraid of them?" Elizabeth could take them on all at once if necessary. She was not afraid. Why should he be frightened of his brothers? She was not frightened of her sisters either and she had more of them.
George Darcy strolled over to them nonchalantly. "Do you need any assistance, Andrew?"
Andrew's blush deepened, for it had not yet completely faded from the previous instance that he had felt embarrassed. "No, George."
"Pity," said George, staring down at Elizabeth with a frown.
She did not feel daunted, but encouraged by the arrogance in his eyes. "Why, sir? Are you such a kind brother?"
"That is not for me to say."
The Darcys were a loyal or perhaps an inseparable bunch, Elizabeth discovered when Lewis and Fitzwilliam slowly moved closer to see if their brothers needed any help. She suddenly found herself surrounded by tall gentlemen whose expressions bore anything between seriousness and distrust. Elizabeth felt quite excited as she stood in the middle. She raised her face to look each one in the eye in turn. "Well, hello. Did you come all this way to frighten me?"
"We do our best," Lewis replied.
"Actually, we thought you might be scaring Andrew," said Fitzwilliam. "Andrew does not dance unless he has received a serious threat."
Elizabeth had expected Andrew to look sheepish, but he did not. "Do you think I threatened him?"
To this they all laughed, even Andrew, and Elizabeth felt rather foolish. She was definitely up against a majority. Still, she was determined to beat them. "I cannot make people dance who do not feel inclined to dance. For instance, I could not force you, sir," she said with a nod at Fitzwilliam. He was a pathetic dancer, after all. One of his brothers had said so.
"Oh, I do not know," Fitzwilliam replied a little fearfully. "I do not know what you have in store for unwilling gentlemen."
Elizabeth stared at him. Only now did it occur to her that all Darcys had laughed a minute ago. The proud and disagreeable men had laughed, albeit at her expense. And now Fitzwilliam was afraid. She did not know what to make of them.
"You look really determined," Fitzwilliam continued. "Perhaps it is easiest for me to give in lest something horrible happens. Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?"
There was no refusing that request unfortunately and a baffled Elizabeth found herself being led to the dance floor by a Darcy for the second time.
Fitzwilliam was a better dancer than Andrew, although he lacked the grace and courage to be really spectacular. Still, he was confident enough to speak while dancing. "Sir William believes us to be outstanding dancers," he said. "On account of our having an estate."
"Really?" Elizabeth managed to say. "I never knew the two were related." And she had never guessed Fitzwilliam Darcy to be capable of saying such a thing. It could not be evidence of humour. It had to be something else.
"Indeed they are, but I suppose you ought to ask Sir William about the precise connection because it eluded me."
"Did it? But he was talking about you."
"It does not follow that you must always understand what other people say about you," Fitzwilliam said with a grave stare.
Elizabeth hated to admit that she was in agreement with a Darcy -- and a Darcy she was dancing with, at that. She had considered it a feat to dance with one Darcy, but this was her second one already. How many more were to follow? But there were only two more. "I heard you have a sister," she said.
Fitzwilliam stiffened. "What did you hear?" he almost snapped.
"S-S-Sorry," Elizabeth said in shock. Had she done anything wrong by mentioning the sister? Andrew had not hinted at anything unmentionable.
He glared at her. "What did my brother say?"
Any fault was purely his, Elizabeth realised and she recovered somewhat, as much as she could recover while having a person as formidable as Fitzwilliam Darcy towering over her. "He said you have a sixteen-year old sister."
"And what else?" he demanded.
"Nothing else. I do not even know her name." Why? Was the existence of the sister a secret? They were separated for a moment by other dancers, but Elizabeth kept her eyes on him. He was so strange. They were all strange. And despite their brief act just now, they were still rude.
"Are you sure?" Fitzwilliam asked when he was near enough again.
"Sure of what?"
"Of what you told me."
"And what did I tell you?" He was so irritating and she could not help but be irritating herself.
"That I have a sister." It came out like a hiss.
She could tell that Fitzwilliam did not really have the patience he pretended to have. Well, neither did she have the ability to pass over rudeness just like that. "Did you need to be told?" Their dance was going really well, amazingly. It was as if Fitzwilliam danced with more flair if he concentrated on being uncivil. He practically whirled on his feet. Elizabeth could not help but note the difference with his earlier reserved style. "Your dancing seems to improve when you neglect your manners," she said with an arch smile. No, he would not get to her.
Fitzwilliam Darcy was silent for the rest of the dance. He whirled around in silent outrage and bowed civilly when it was over. "It has been a pleasure," he said very quickly without opening his mouth wide enough to articulate properly.
"Likewise," Elizabeth smiled sweetly and looked for Charlotte. She had plenty to tell.
"Oh my, that was some dance," Charlotte said with a quick glance at her friend's heightened colour.
"Do not talk to me about it," Elizabeth shuddered. She sat down, however.
"But I thought that was why you came over to me?" Charlotte asked innocently.
"Yes, but...oh!" She needed a moment to recollect her thoughts so she could tell her story coherently and objectively. "I will tell you in a second. I have to become objective first."
Part Five
Charlotte laughed at Lizzy's words. She had to become objective first. Objective indeed! There was not a very large chance of that in her friend's current mood, but Charlotte was eager to observe any efforts.
"He is really a disagreeable man!" Elizabeth vented. She had obviously not needed very much time to become objective. Only a few seconds had sufficed.
"Is he?" Her older and wiser friend suppressed a smile.
"Yes!"
"But you danced with him." Charlotte had been looking and she had decided they had made quite a handsome pair together. It would be a pity if he was really as disagreeable as Elizabeth said he was. Or if all brothers were, for all were handsome and any one of them would make a great pair with Elizabeth.
"Not by choice." Elizabeth's expression made this very clear. She forgot how it had really gone, that there had also been some excitement in dancing with two Darcys.
"I cannot believe he would have forced you. It looked as if you did not mind dancing," Charlotte said slyly. "In the beginning at least. Of course I did not hear how your conversation with him developed."
"Oh!" Elizabeth cried with a frustrated shake of her head. "It did not develop at all. Mr Darcy is very disagreeable. He was even quite annoyed about my speaking to him."
"He began to speak to you first," said Charlotte, who had noticed this very well. Not all Darcys could be so bad if they asked Lizzy to dance and then spoken to her as well. The first Darcy had not, but this one had.
"Yes, but after that he became very annoyed."
"Were you impertinent, Lizzy? They are rather respectable and fine gentlemen. They might not be used to impertinence." She knew what her friend was like. Lizzy's wit was sometimes bordering on the impertinent even if she did not mean it that way. She could well imagine that gentlemen like the Darcys did not encounter it very often. People would usually be treating them with reverence.
Elizabeth saw this as a serious fault. "I was not impertinent! I merely mentioned his sister. Is that such a grave offence?" She truly did not see what had gone wrong. It had not been her.
"It would depend on what you said about her."
"I said I had heard he had a sister, but as I had heard it from his brother, how could this be a bad thing? He had no right to be so annoyed!" She did not understand it.
"Indeed. If that is how it went --"
"That is how it went!" Elizabeth interrupted. Her cheeks were fast becoming very flushed now that Charlotte was not immediately convinced. "He is disagreeable! You cannot disagree with me."
"I would have to dance with him first, but he is not very likely to ask me." Charlotte was well aware of her worth or lack of it. She would not be asked if there were prettier girls like Elizabeth around.
"Should another one come to ask me, I will refer him to you. They are all the same anyway. All disagreeable."
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "That is...-- Lizzy! You have danced with two and you still believe they are the same?" From her vantage point she had seen some crucial differences that could not have escaped anyone who had actually been dancing with Mr Andrew and Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Elizabeth was forced to reconsider, even though she would much rather persist in her opinions. "You are perhaps right in that they are not precisely the same," she admitted grudgingly. There was no deep thinking required on her part to come to that conclusion. Her other beliefs were still safe.
"I am not sure you would do either of them any credit by thinking that." Andrew had not seemed as rude and Fitzwilliam had not seemed as untalkative.
"Do they deserve any credit? Does Fitzwilliam?"
"I told you I cannot make up my mind about him without having spoken to him or at least danced with him."
"Well, get him to ask you. All that is necessary is walking past them and ignoring them."
"Dear Lizzy, it does not work that way for all ladies," Charlotte reminded her in a gently reproving manner. It would certainly not work for her. They would only go on ignoring her, even if she walked past very slowly. She paused, for she saw one of the Darcys approach them slowly but purposefully. He was surely coming to ask Lizzy. For a brief moment she felt a pang of regret, because such a handsome man would never be coming for her, but then she dismissed it as an irrational wish. Handsome men would not propose to her and the chance of receiving a proposal was what she would prize most in a prospective husband. The Darcys were not for her. They were also far too rich and she had nothing to make them overlook her relatively low standing. She sighed inaudibly and focused her attention on the exchange that was about to take place. It was bound to be interesting.
"Would you do me the honour of standing up with me?" Lewis Darcy inquired of Elizabeth with a graceful movement of his head.
That took Elizabeth by surprise. For a few seconds she was speechless. Then she recollected herself. "It would not be fair of me to dance again, when my friend Miss Lucas had not danced at all yet," she said with a saucy smile. Perhaps she could kill two birds with one stone. She could get rid of Mr Darcy's attentions and give Charlotte her chance to get acquainted with them. Then Charlotte would finally see reason.
Charlotte was stunned. This was something she never could have imagined and she already felt some embarrassment as she predicted Mr Lewis' reaction. He would refuse and insist on dancing with Lizzy. It was funny that she felt more embarrassment for his sake and for Lizzy's than for her own, even though she would be the only one to have her feelings wounded.
Lewis Darcy did not betray any surprise, or only for a split second. His good manners came to his rescue. Gravely and politely he said that it was indeed not fair and that he would dance with Miss Lucas. "But Miss Bennet must promise me to dance with me afterwards."
Elizabeth managed an incoherent and alarmed yes. Charlotte was quite as alarmed at having to dance with Lewis. She could not really remember when she had last danced, being more or less past the right age, or so she had always thought. As she was led to the dance floor, she could just see that George Darcy approached Elizabeth, but then she stopped watching. That problem was all Elizabeth's to sort out, not hers. She was now going to dance with a handsome and rich man, something that was not likely to occur ever again, except in her dreams, and she would have to make it an experience worth remembering.
"So..." George Darcy said as he eyed Elizabeth. "Did my brother choose your friend over you, Miss Bennet? She is not half so pretty as you are. I wonder what his intentions are."
Elizabeth coloured in indignation. "You are speaking about my friend. Please remember that, sir."
"And I was speaking about my brother," George said in an unperturbed manner. "My brother does not usually trouble himself over girls that are not absolutely beautiful."
"That is his loss then," she snapped. This had to be the most disagreeable brother of all! He was insensitive and unmannered. Why did she even bother to reply to him?
"It is his loss indeed that he is now dancing with your friend," George said, giving her a good glance. "But one man's loss is another man's gain and in this case it is my gain."
"Please explain that to me," said Elizabeth, who had absolutely no intention of dancing with such a detestable man.
"If he will not dance with you, Miss Bennet, I will."
"What if I do not want to?" she said challengingly. She did not want to. She really did not want to, but she was intrigued by his assured manner. It irritated her too. What gave him the idea that she wanted to dance with him?
"Miss Bennet! How could you not? I am a wealthy and handsome man. Everybody would want to dance with me. It would be unheard of to refuse me." His dark eyes bored into hers. "You would be the talk of the town."
"I do not care." She tried to look away from his eyes.
"Do you not? What if..." George's eyes narrowed slightly and he lowered his voice to a husky whisper. "...what if what was being said about you was not entirely true?"
She gave a low gasp. "What are you implying?" He could not seriously be saying that he would spread vicious lies about her if she refused him? Oh! He was an absolutely base character! There were really no words for the man.
"I am not implying anything," he said innocently. "I am merely saying that it may be a dangerous thing to be the talk of the town. One can never know, can one? Is it not better to have behaved in an irreproachable fashion than to be fearing that one's less admirable words or actions might come to light and that everyone may be discussing them?"
"You must be speaking from experience, sir!" Elizabeth uttered angrily. She did not like the game he was playing.
"Indeed. I fear that if we argue too long about such a simple issue, the dance may have started and we may be too late to join in. Shall we, Miss Bennet?" He held out his arm invitingly. It would certainly be an affront to refuse him.
Elizabeth stared at him. This was her chance to refuse him. She would indeed be the talk of the town if she did, especially now that he was so openly inviting her and everyone knew her better than to think she had had no idea of what would follow her chat. If she had not wanted to dance she would not have let it come this far. Nor would other people think that a gentleman would consciously compromise a lady in this manner. The fault could never be on his side, if only because of his wealth and respectability, not to mention his dancing brothers.
Part Six
Elizabeth was not enjoying her dance, she told herself over and over again. Everyone else was. Her feelings caused her dark eyes to look very fierce and she danced with very certain and brisk movements. She had also told herself she would not speak to George Darcy, but his eyes were mocking her so much that she had to inquire. "What are you looking at, Mr Darcy?" she snapped.
"You, Miss Bennet. You may not be breathtaking, but at a simple country dance your looks are sufficient in a partner," George Darcy said in a pleasant tone.
Elizabeth was infuriated. "Your manners, sir, are not sufficient at a simple country dance!"
"I am wealthy and handsome -- do I need manners?" he asked with a smooth grin, obviously thinking he did not.
Elizabeth looked away and saw nothing, although there were a great many other dancers, including Charlotte and Lewis Darcy, in whose fates she might have been interested had she not been angry. George occupied her thoughts too much and she had never been good at turning the other cheek. It was always something of a challenge when someone insulted her and she could not let it pass. "I do not find you particularly handsome," Elizabeth lied with a heightened colour.
George's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, do you not?" He was confident of his own worth. No mere country girl could change or shake his belief. Besides, he knew she was only saying that because she did not know what else to say. Such a young girl was no match for him, really. He ought to be ashamed of himself, but shame and embarrassment were relatively foreign emotions to him.
"Your complexion is too sallow, your lips are too thin and your nose is too large," Elizabeth said bravely. "If you insist on knowing what prevents you from being handsome, sir."
"Thank you, Miss Bennet, for this truthful description of my features." George had too much faith in himself to have his self-image altered by this girl's opinion.
"It was merely a truthful description of how your features strike me, sir."
"You are an odd young lady, Miss Bennet, if you admit that you do not perceive the truth."
Elizabeth looked confused. "I beg your pardon?"
"You admit that what you perceive does not correspond to reality."
"I did no such thing."
"Yes, you did. It makes me wonder."
"Why does it? And I did not."
"Yes, you did and I wonder what else you perceive incorrectly. We may have to stop believing everything you say, Miss Bennet, because your mind alters the truth considerably."
"You were already not believing what I said about your manners," she pointed out.
"That proves my point," George said smugly.
Smug smiles had a rather bad effect on Elizabeth -- they were her prerogative -- and she swallowed. She would have given George a piece of her mind had they been alone, but now she was forced to think of the other people present. "And it proves mine," she hissed. "You have no manners."
"And you are not speaking the truth. We shall never progress," he said sadly. "How did you fare with my brothers?"
"They have far better manners than you do, Mr Darcy."
"That is the first time I have heard anyone say that, Miss Bennet. I am sure Andrew and Fitzwilliam will be very pleased to hear it. Their manners are generally perceived to be inferior to mine."
"You are insufferable!" Elizabeth told him with her eyes wide from surprise.
"I know and I love it."
"It must be very lonely to be the only one who likes yourself."
George gave her a stern look and shook his head in a fatherly manner. "Miss Bennet, you do not seem to allow for the existence of opinions and preferences that differ from yours. Simply because you do not like me does not mean nobody else does."
"I cannot imagine anyone who would!" Elizabeth realised that George had her cornered. Her behaviour did not reflect well on herself. He knew precisely what to say to elicit impertinent reactions from her. She would have to watch her words.
"But Miss Bennet, you have perhaps never left Hertfordshire," George said slowly, implying that there was a world full of completely different people outside of it who all held a different and more favourable opinion of him.
"I have!"
"You have been to town?" he raised his eyebrows mockingly.
"I have!" Elizabeth looked smug.
George looked reflective. "You are a refined young lady in that case. I must adjust my opinion of you. I beg your pardon. I had not realised that you had been to town. It changes matters considerably."
"How?" she wished to know, feeling confused.
"If you have been to town you will know how this changes one's perception of things, one's outlook on life."
Elizabeth's perceptions had not greatly changed, so she awaited his next words, ready to challenge them.
"And I confess that I find ladies who have been to town more worth speaking to," George continued. "All ladies, young and old, but young ones in particular."
"Why, sir?" she asked immediately, her dark eyes flashing again in indignation.
"Because of their changed perception."
She did not understand. "Mr Darcy, you are teasing me."
"Are you insulting me, Miss Bennet? Just because you cannot understand me -- perhaps I have overestimated your sophistication -- you think I must be teasing you?"
"Would you be insulted if I were truly insulting you?" Elizabeth inquired. "After all the insulting comments you have made yourself?"
"I am not aware of having made any. I had assumed you to be a young lady of considerable sophistication, one who would be capable of taking comments and questions in the spirit they were made in."
"It is not an admirable spirit."
"Is it not? That is your perception, but we had already established -- please correct me if I remember this wrongly -- that your perception does not always reflect the truth. In short, what you perceive might not be real. It might not even exist."
"It is real to me." Elizabeth knew he was rude. It was a fact, a true and existing fact.
"That may be so, if it is not real to me, you cannot accuse me of anything, but you must simply ascribe it to the differences existing between us. It might be as much your fault as it is mine. Who knows?"
"Now Mr Darcy, you are looking for ways to excuse your rudeness, but I am not so stupid as to accept them."
George Darcy frowned. "Miss Bennet, perhaps you would care to explain why a rude man would take pains to make excuses for his rudeness? It does not sound wholly logical to me. Assuming I am rude, I should think I would also be too rude to care. Do you not agree?"
Elizabeth drew a deep breath. While all three Darcys she had been dancing with so far were different, they had one thing in common and that was that they all inspired deep feelings of frustration and curiosity within her. Perhaps it was better for her own peace of mind to ignore them. Each next Darcy was worse than the one before. George was infinitely more frustrating than Fitzwilliam, who had already been worse than Andrew. It made her wonder what Lewis was like. He could only be worse than George and perhaps he was. He was dancing with Charlotte now and for what evil purpose was he doing that? He could only be doing that for some evil reason.
"You agree," George stated. "I am glad we have cleared up the matter of my perceived rudeness and I think we shall now be able to be excellent friends."
"I think not," Elizabeth said in alarm. She should have paid attention and not have thought of Lewis and Charlotte. She had missed something now and even the briefest lapse of attention was enough for George to gain the upper hand. She did not want to become excellent friends with him -- he was insufferable.
"Well, I am aware of the difference in our stations and in our relative degree of sophistication," George said indulgently. "But what I really meant is that you might now be able to treat me politely, Miss Bennet, and not as if I were some unmannered cad."
But he was! Elizabeth stared at him, unsure of what to say. "I do not think..." she began.
"Perhaps I was wrong."
"I believe you were, sir."
"I had overestimated you once again," George said with regret. "Please accept my apologies."
"Why do you persist in behaving in that manner, Mr Darcy?" Elizabeth inquired.
"I cannot behave any differently, but you can."
"How do you know?"
"I am an excellent judge of character, Miss Bennet," George replied.
"It is better to be in possession of an excellent character than to be a judge of it," Elizabeth spat.
"And still better to be one of those than to be neither," he shot back with a smug smile. "Would you not agree?"
"I think that such an excellent judge of character as yourself would be able to predict that my answer would be no," she said in a dignified manner.
"True, but I am also excellent enough to know that your answer would always be no."
"I am sorry if it gives you pain that I disagree with you on every point," she said sweetly.
"Pain is not exactly the right word," said George. He was thinking more along the lines of amusement.
"Might irritation be the word?" she wondered.
He pretended to consider it. "Hmmm...no."
"Which word would then describe your feelings? Assuming you have any."
"Oh, I have no feelings. You are quite right about that. It follows that there cannot be a word to describe them." George smiled his smug smile again and bowed. The dance ended at precisely the right moment. One should keep Miss Bennet infuriated and wondering. That mood suited her.
Part Six
The boys should have come to her sooner. They should not have let it come this far. Nevertheless, Lady Catherine liked challenges that would intimidate everyone else. She was not easily put out and she would bring this to a good conclusion. She could succeed where all others failed and lost courage. That was something she had absolute faith in.
First she would speak with Georgiana, that foolish, headstrong girl.
"Aunt Catherine!" Georgiana said in some shock when her visitor was shown in. Her carefully maintained composure of grown-up married lady did not hold up very well under her aunt's piercing gaze. She felt like the old, unmarried Georgiana again.
"Georgiana. Let me look at you." The Wickham's residence was tolerable and better than Lady Catherine had expected. It had undoubtedly been financed by Darcy, but it was far from being the sort of house a Darcy was expected to be comfortable in. For the son of a steward it did very well, but she could not imagine Georgiana, who had been used to the best, voluntarily moving in here. Despite living here, Georgiana looked reasonably well.
She was no longer a little girl and that comment made her sound like one, but one did not protest audibly to Lady Catherine. "What brings you here, Aunt?" she asked nervously. Her aunt was not known to make friendly visits. They always had a purpose.
"I had not seen you for a long time. I needed to see if you were well."
"I am well."
"Are you?" Lady Catherine sounded inquisitive. "How is your brother?" The answer to that question would tell her a lot. Anything positive would be a lie. Everyone would know Darcy had been in a pretty bad state when he had left town. If Georgiana acknowledged this, she would also be acknowledging the fact that something was wrong.
"He has not written."
"Have you not written him?"
"No, I have not. We did not part on the best of terms." Georgiana fell silent. She did not know what else to say about it.
"But fortunately you still have Wickham," Lady Catherine said subtly.
"He has been very good to me." A marked change came over Georgiana. Her features softened and she lost the contrary look in her eyes that had appeared at the first mention of her brother.
Her aunt observed it with interest, but she did not comment on it. She waited for Georgiana to continue. Surely if she was so fond of her new husband she would want to speak about him.
"He is the only one who has been kind to me. It pains me to hear my brother and my cousin speak ill about him." Thinking of their insensitivity in voicing their mistaken assumptions nearly moved her to tears. "He is not bad. I do not understand why they hate him so. They have not been as kind to me as George is. He does not treat me like a younger sister or cousin. He does not tell me what to do."
Lady Catherine disagreed somewhat with this picture of Wickham, but she realised the impossibility of saying so. It would only enforce Georgiana's opinion that everyone else was unkind. If it was simply Wickham's kindness, fake or not, that had appealed to Georgiana, perhaps even more kindness could pry her loose. It called for a different approach from her usual one, Lady Catherine mused. Honest outspokenness would have the wrong effect. She should perhaps pretend to be on Georgiana's side when it came to Darcy and Fitzwilliam. "My dear Georgiana..." she said as kindly as she could. She was not used to speaking in such a way and it cost her some trouble, but her common sense told her that a motherless girl might not be the best judge and that Georgiana in all likeliness would not notice the difference.
Georgiana tried to be a sensible girl, but her bottom lip quivered. She flung herself at her aunt, wanting to be comforted. Up till now she had always kept a brave face when she had been confronted with issues that had really made her want to cry, but she could not do it any longer. She was still not crying, but she wanted to speak about all that had happened and she did not know where to begin.
"Oh dear," said Lady Catherine in some consternation. Her plan was working faster and better than she had anticipated. She put her arms around the tense girl and pressed her against her chest. What did one do in such a situation? She wished against all common sense that Anne had been a little more silly. It would have prepared her better for this situation. Anne was too sensible to do such things, just like she had always thought Georgiana to be, but this was not the right moment to consider which implications this might have for Anne. "What is wrong?"
A pitiful sound escaped Georgiana's lips. "Nobody loves me."
Something within Lady Catherine cried out in despair. How was she to handle this before Georgiana burst into tears? "That is not true." There was not much one could say in such a case that would actually be believed.
"It is! Nobody takes me seriously."
"Oh, Georgiana! I take you seriously, do I not?" Lady Catherine took the problem seriously and that was what she meant. She was not yet certain if she was on Georgiana's side when it came to Wickham, which was what Georgiana would define as being taken seriously. The girl seemed so easy to manipulate with a little kindness. It made her doubt the intentions of Wickham, who by all accounts appeared to be a master manipulator.
"Yes," Georgiana sniffled. "But my brother does not and I thought he loved me."
"He does love you."
"If he truly loved me he would let me do what is best for me, instead of wanting me to do what is best for him."
Lady Catherine believed that her nephew's ideas on what was good for Georgiana coincided more with her own than with Georgiana's. Wickham was not an ideal match for a member of her family in either class or character. Even if some rumours were untrue there remained too many others that would contain enough grains of truth to make him undesirable. But, until she had spoken to the man himself, she would not be able to make any definite judgments. He would not be able to fool her, she was sure, but she had to play this well. If she demanded to see him too abruptly, he would catch on and play a role. He was good at that. It was better to catch him unawares, to let Georgiana take her into her confidence. "Older brothers do not always know what is best," she soothed and she was not even lying. Being a younger sister herself, she could muster up enough empathy.
"I know what is best for me," Georgiana continued.
"Of course you do, dear."
"I love George!"
Lady Catherine attempted to hide her disgust. Fortunately Georgiana could not see her face. She could imagine how Darcy or Fitzwilliam would have looked upon hearing this and how this might have had a disastrous effect on the conversation. "Because he is kind to you," she murmured in agreement.
"Yes, precisely!" Georgiana cried eagerly, happy to have found someone who understood her at last. "Why will no one see this?"
Now that she had been embraced as Georgiana's only true friend in the world, Lady Catherine had to proceed with care so as not to ruin this. "Because...their wishes for you were different and am I wrong in assuming Wickham has not be as kind to Darcy as he has been to you?" she inquired cautiously.
"No," Georgiana admitted in a low voice. "But I do not know everything that has happened. He will not talk about it and says it has nothing to do with us. And he is right. All that matters is that he is nice to me. My brother does not have to like him. They do not even have to meet each other if they do not want to. I too would like my brother to marry a lady I liked, but the decision is ultimately up to him and I must be happy with his choice, because it is his choice and not mine, but this is mine and not his."
"That is true." It had been Georgiana's choice, but one that might have been based on the wrong information and it might be one she would come to regret. "Shall I speak to Darcy?" offered Lady Catherine, who had no such intention. She had spoken to Fitzwilliam and she had no reason to believe that Darcy and Fitzwilliam held different opinions.
Georgiana looked up hopefully. "Would you? It truly pains me to find that members of my family disagree with me when it comes to George. I want so much for everyone to be happy."
"Do not worry about it, Georgiana."
"But..." Georgiana said with a choke and her tears welled up again when she thought about her other, equally great problem. "George's regiment will be sent abroad and nobody wants to do anything about it. Can you, Aunt Catherine? I would miss him so much if he left and I would not have anyone here. I would be all alone if I did not go with him."
Lady Catherine had hoped the emotional spell had been over, but unfortunately that had been too premature a conclusion. She hugged her niece for lack of a better alternative. "Do not fret about it. It might never happen." Georgiana might never go with him. "Do not think too far ahead and do not concern yourself about things that are beyond your control."
Georgiana sniffed somewhat when she realised she was being silly. There might still be hope and knowing her aunt, there might be a solution. "Thank you, Aunt Catherine. You have been a great help."
Her aunt looked reasonably satisfied, for being a great help to all and sundry was one of her main objectives in life. She did not quite feel that she had succeeded yet, however. All she had done so far was gauge the situation. From now on she would be facing the hardest challenge: to solve this problem in a manner that brought the greatest satisfaction and the least disgrace to the family.
Part Seven
It was imperative that some of the young ladies of the neighbourhood should meet the day after, to discuss everything that had transpired the evening before, now that the events were still fresh in their memories. This did not mean they would never talk about it again -- indeed they would -- but on future occasions these events would be seen in a completely different light and one should never pass up the chance to view something from all angles. That was what objectivity was all about. Two days later one might remember -- or invent -- small details that had not seemed important before, but which might alter the general impression of the evening considerably.
The young ladies could be brief about the Bingleys. There were two of them and they were agreeable. It was never very interesting to discuss agreeable gentlemen, for there was no cause for dissent and ardent defences. The only thing that could inspire some passionate discourse was the second Mr Bingley's simplicity of mind, but Jane, on whom the Bingleys' attentions had been predominantly fixed, would not hear of that. Jane had not noticed any simplicity. Both gentlemen were agreeable and she would hate to prefer one over the other.
"But really, Jane. You cannot marry both," said Elizabeth, whose opinions of someone's simplicity were always quickly established and only very slowly altered, because once someone was categorised as such, she was reluctant to discuss that person.
"I never said I wished to marry either," Jane protested weakly. She was only barely not lying, for she had never said so, but one could not help but think about marriage upon meeting the Bingleys.
"It was a figure of speech. You cannot like them equally well, because they are not equals." One was definitely superior to the other.
Jane, who was by no means the angel some people supposed her to be, did have a mildly cruel streak. "And which Mr Darcy do you like best, Lizzy?" she asked innocently.
For all her eagerness to discuss the Darcys, Elizabeth was temporarily nonplussed. "Er..."
"You danced with them all," Charlotte remarked.
"Not true. I did not dance with Lewis because Mama wished to leave." Elizabeth looked annoyed. She would have liked to dance with Lewis as well, to be able to compare the brothers better. Her mother was always disturbing everything good and her insistence that they leave that instant had not gone down well with any of her daughters except Mary, who had been eager to leave from the moment they had set foot in the room.
"Well, Mama felt ill," Jane felt compelled to make an excuse for her mother. "You know she never feels ill at any social gathering, Lizzy, so you must know she was not imagining it."
"She chose a very bad moment to fall ill," Elizabeth grumbled.
"We must not be selfish," said Mary, who was pleased to be able to contribute something. Once they brought the gentlemen and dancing back into it, she would be out of it again. "It is not very praiseworthy to resent other people for feeling ill."
"You have not answered Jane's question, Lizzy," Charlotte said in the brief silence that followed Mary's comment.
"Which question was that?"
"Which Mr Darcy did you like best?"
"I am not qualified to make any statement about that, since I did not get to dance with all four of them," she said cleverly.
"Of the three you did dance with, then? Surely you must have an opinion. You always do."
Elizabeth was suspiciously silent.
"She does not want to tell," cried Maria Lucas, who had been listening attentively. Lydia's preferences had been readily revealed without any prompting, but it was far more interesting to try and coax Elizabeth into revealing hers.
"I do not see why you should like any of them," Lydia said with a careless shake of her head. "They are not even officers."
"How did you like Lewis, Charlotte?" Elizabeth inquired, deflecting the attention away from herself, at least until Lydia had lost interest.
"I liked him quite well," Charlotte admitted. "He is a very agreeable and well-informed man. A little proud, perhaps, but not without reason."
"I hate well-informed men!" Lydia cried and drew Maria and Kitty away to another corner of the room where they could talk without hearing about such offensive material as books and where they could concentrate solely on red coats.
"They are all excessively proud," said Elizabeth. "I am not sure they have any reason to be, for I call disagreeable what you call proud."
"I cannot believe that all four are disagreeable."
"The Bingleys would never have befriended them in that case," was Jane's opinion.
"You are too good, Jane, as are the Bingleys, I am sure. You have not danced with any of the Darcys, so you must believe me that they are very disagreeable. George Darcy is the worst one."
"He is also the one you danced with last," Charlotte observed. "Before you danced with George, you thought Fitzwilliam the worst of the four and before that, you thought it was Andrew."
"Are you saying I am fickle?" Elizabeth cried indignantly.
"Er..." Charlotte considered it and smiled. "Perhaps. Had you danced with Lewis after George, I am sure you would have liked him least."
"Liked him least! You imply that I like the others better, when I do not like them at all! Have you any idea how George tricked me into dancing with him? He said he would spread lies about me if I did not dance!"
"I am sure your imagination is running away with you, Lizzy," Jane commented. "No gentleman would do that."
"And for that matter, no real lady would spread any lies about a gentleman either," Mary piped up and Charlotte chuckled.
"Mary, you did not dance. Why do you feel you ought to participate in this discussion?" Elizabeth inquired of her younger sister in annoyance.
"One learns far more by observing than by dancing," Mary said gravely.
"That is what all people say who are never asked to dance."
"Is your goal in life to acquire knowledge and wisdom or to dance with as many men as possible?"
Elizabeth chose not to answer that directly. "I shall say again that the Darcys are unbelievably rude and unmannered."
"Yet they dance well."
"Andrew did not." Elizabeth recalled how Andrew had not been capable of dancing and speaking at the same time.
"Well, he was not very sure of himself, which is hardly incomprehensible, since you were not very friendly to him. The poor man!" Charlotte said in pity.
"How could a man of his standing not be sure of himself? No, I think you are wrong there. I think he was merely rude and unfriendly. Just like his brothers. I perceived a common characteristic. They were all disagreeable and incomprehensible. I could not follow a word George was saying. He took a great delight in vexing me and Fitzwilliam simply took offence at everything I said, for no reason at all, because I said nothing at which a normal person would take offence."
"But they are all of them very handsome. Do you not agree, Jane?"
"Indeed. One could never say they were not handsome."
"Are we therefore not allowed to take offence at what they say?" Elizabeth asked. "Must their bad manners be forgiven?"
Charlotte nodded. "Yes."
"Oh you are teasing me! I shall not talk about them ever again and I hope we shall not meet them anywhere anymore." Elizabeth was determined not to speak about them again, but she could not help thinking about them. They were all so different and yet so similar that it was very interesting to compare them in her mind and to speculate.
Andrew -- the terrible dancer who could smile and not talk.
Fitzwilliam -- the better dancer who was so short-tempered.
George -- the impeccable dancer who was a definite cad.
Lewis -- whom she had not seen dancing, but who had been well-mannered enough to dance with Charlotte.
She wished there would be a next occasion on which she could study them. She hated to admit it to herself, but she wiished to know more about them.
Part Eight
It was not often that six eligible bachelors descended upon Meryton and it was not odd that they were everybody's favourite topic, even though they had been here for a while. Until the time that all of them had proposed to a Meryton girl they would remain the most important subject that people talked about.
Rumours would have it that the eldest Miss Bennet was soon to marry one of the Bingleys, yet people did not yet know which of the two and whether he had already proposed. Another interesting side issue here was whether the unlucky Mr Bingley would be happy to see his brother steal the most beautiful girl in Hertfordshire away from under his nose, but their dispositions were so amiable and charming that not even the most malicious gossip could see this happen.
It was less clear for whom the Darcy brothers were destined. It would not be fair to the other girls if even one of them would go to a Bennet girl, because the Bennet girls were by no means the only girls in the neighbourhood. Everyone should have their share.
However, it was a well-known fact that life was far from being fair. No matter how many families deserved a Darcy for a son-in-law, Mr Bennet was probably the lucky father of the bride, for his daughter Elizabeth had been seen to dance at the Lucases' -- where very few people from Meryton were present, but they had learnt of this through Lady Lucas and Mrs Bennet -- and she had danced with three of the Darcys.
By Lady Lucas this information had been imparted as an addendum, after the infinitely more important news that Lewis Darcy had danced with Charlotte. By Mrs Bennet it had been the reverse, which was understandable, as both ladies had to their own futures to think of.
Still, with two of the Darcys possibly gone, there were still two of them left, as well as another Bingley and all other eligible young ladies in the area seemed within a chance of securing one of them.
Mrs Bennet, who considered herself well ahead of the other mothers in what was to be the competition of the century in Meryton and the surrounding villages, could not help but encourage her daughters to walk to Meryton very often, a trip which might possibly throw them in the way of the Bingley or Darcy carriage. While she was not so cruel as to want any of her daughters to be run over, Mrs Bennet would very much like for one of them to be seen from the carriage should it happen to pass through Meryton and in anticipation of this grand occasion, Lydia was not discouraged from buying a new bonnet.
Even if the new bonnet might be wasted on such refined gentlemen as the occupants of Netherfield, given their exposure to Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley with their fashionable headwear, Mrs Bennet was sure that only good things could come from getting a new bonnet. Had she still been young, she would have bought one herself, but sadly enough Mr Bennet did not appreciate such finery at all and she had to live vicariously through her youngest.
But Jane was clearly the one with the best chances when it came to matrimony. She was not only the most beautiful, but she was also very sweet-tempered and sensible. While Mrs Bennet herself was not equipped to truly appreciate that, she had heard it often enough to have come to believe it and she possessed enough cleverness to realise that she ought to push Jane a little or nothing would ever happen. Jane was not Lydia. All her other girls were forwarder than Jane, even Mary.
When a note arrived from Netherfield one day, signed by Miss Bingley, there was not a doubt in Mrs Bennet's mind. Jane must accept and she must go on horseback, as it looked like rain and no gentleman would let a lady ride back through foul weather. He might not be there when Jane got there, but if she was her mother's daughter, she would stay until he returned. The possibilities were endless. Mrs Bennet dreamt away. The next morning one of the Bingleys would arrive to ask Mr Bennet for Jane's hand. She made a mental note to tell her husband not to be away. Although some of her mental notes frequently got lost, there were some that she would never forget. With Jane gone and the sky darkening, Mrs Bennet was immensely satisfied.
The gentlemen returned from their engagement out of doors and found Jane unwell. Charles and Clarence Bingley fussed over her and declared they would not have her leave. She had to stay. Helped upstairs by both gentlemen, Jane could only comply.
The four Darcys hovered silently in the background, as was their wont. They looked upon the invalid with grave faces, not venturing any comments or sympathy. One replied to Miss Bingley in a low voice, but Jane did not see which one and she felt too ill to care.
Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley were very solicitous, but their calm behaviour was a welcome change to Jane, who had only ever been ill with Mrs Bennet running around nervously. Still, being in the house of strangers, she felt she was imposing on their time.
Elizabeth felt some concern for her sister when she received a note from Netherfield the following morning, not in the least because she was now stuck in that house with so many disagreeable men. Save for the Bingley brothers she could not imagine anyone would show the least bit of sympathy for the patient. The Darcys would only give a feverish girl bad dreams and the Bingleys' sisters did not have the warmth required to be good nurses.
She walked all the way and this fact was met with surprise when she was shown into the breakfast parlour. Jane was not there, but everyone else was. Her eyes travelled the length of the table, past all Darcys, who were either studiously regarding their plates or studiously regarding the hem of her gown, but not her face. She felt tempted to ask them if they liked her petticoat, but bit back the words just in time, as it sounded far too much like something Lydia would say.
Miss Bingley, seconded by Mrs Hurst, received them with the utmost politeness, but nothing more than that. Their brothers appeared glad to see her and they expressed some more genuine concern about Jane. The Darcys expressed boredom or disapproval in their stares and Mr Hurst expressed nothing at all. Perhaps he never did.
Elizabeth was happy to leave them when Miss Bingley took her up to see Jane. They made her feel like an intruder, the way they had not spoken a word. Her concern for Jane forbade her from laughing at the silly way they had each gravely bowed in turn, but she had noticed it nevertheless.
Miss Bingley was kind enough to leave them alone, or perhaps merely happy that she could abandon Jane in favour of her breakfast and the company of the taciturn gentlemen.
It was eventually arranged that Elizabeth would remain at Netherfield. How much this pleased the others, she did not know and neither did she care. For a brief moment she thought how her mother must be rejoicing back at home and a colour passed over her cheeks. Then she quickly forgot about it. Neither Jane nor she were like that.
She was to have dinner with the rest of the party, which was sure to be a dull and dreadful affair. Having danced with three of the Darcys did not mean she was looking forward to conversing with them, especially not when their countenances were so extremely forbidding. They must have terrible secrets to hide. It struck her that one or more might have a wife locked away in a tower and indeed if a house had four towers they had ample space for that. She chuckled in spite of herself and this drew some odd looks from the gentlemen seated nearest to her.
"It is but a plain dish!" said Mr Hurst in astonishment, assuming the chuckle was one of appreciation of the dinner before them, which was practically the only thing one could chuckle at, as well as winning at cards. He did not understand it. "I much prefer a ragout."
Elizabeth did not understand him either. "Plain dishes suit me very well," she replied in some confusion.
This caused Andrew Darcy to look at her in sympathy, but he did not look as if he might say something at the same time. He was also a bit too far away to do that. Fitzwilliam Darcy disapproved, she could tell. He was probably one who preferred a ragout, along with Mr Hurst, yet he did not say so. Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy was the perfect image of a gentlemen who had better things to do than to waste any words on dishes. Well, so did she. She had better things to do than to pay any attention whatsoever to Fitzwilliam Darcy.
When she turned her head archly, her eye fell on George, seated by Miss Bingley and talking to that lady animatedly in a low voice. He was such a rake! The thought that George might be good friends with Miss Bingley did not even occur to Elizabeth. She only saw a rake talking to a fortune hunter. They were well-suited. But neither of them would talk to her over dinner.
Only Lewis remained, if one did not count Mrs Hurst and one could not, because Mrs Hurst was at the other end of the table and both she and Elizabeth were too well-mannered to shout. That this method of communication had frequently been employed in the Bennet household before Mr Bennet had taken it upon himself to order Lydia to sit next to her mother did not mean that Elizabeth was partial to using it. Lewis, to make matters worse, was also sitting next to her, which meant that she had not yet been able to look at him.
Glancing up at his face, she realised that Lewis had been staring at her as intensely as Andrew and Fitzwilliam. In confusion she looked away and suddenly noticed that the Bingley brothers were also at the table. Had she overlooked them the first time? Or had she been too focused on checking out where her enemies were sitting? The Bingley brothers could never be anyone's enemy.
"I am sorry I did not get to dance with you, Miss Bennet," said Lewis.
"Ahh...er..." Was she sorry as well? No, she did not think so, but she could not say that. "We were all sorry my mother fell ill."
"It seems a common occurrence in your family," said Fitzwilliam. "Are you perhaps a sickly family?"
Elizabeth felt offended. "It was a coincidence, I assure you! You will be happy to hear I shall not fall ill."
"I am indeed happy to hear that," he replied.
"Next time we meet at a dance you owe me one, Miss Bennet," Lewis continued, ignoring his brother's digression.
"You dislike dancing, Lewis," George interrupted.
"I cannot stay behind if you have all danced with Miss Bennet. I am sure she had counted on dancing with all four of us and she was severely disappointed when her mother was taken ill because she was denied the chance to dance with me."
"You have to be joking," Elizabeth said archly.
"I am deadly serious," Lewis said gravely. "It is a compliment."
"How?"
"You are too kind a lady to discriminate against one of four brothers. Your sense of fairness would make you want to dance with all of us, so there is no discord among us."
That was a sufficiently deep statement for Elizabeth to ponder and she did not give him a reply. The whole idea of being complimented by a Darcy was unsettling and she was glad it had been a mere hollow phrase without meaning. None of the Darcys would compliment her. That they pretended to do so right now was some mean joke on their part, but she would not fall for it. She would not smile and feel proud, unless it was feeling proud about having seen through them.
Part Nine
Elizabeth, who was quite ready to speak whenever someone else did who was not a Darcy, kept silent when only Darcys spoke. She did not want to do them the honour of making them believe their conversation was worth attending to, although it was, very much so.
They were now talking about discord. Lewis and George said there would most definitely be discord among them, but Fitzwilliam was very decided in his view that there would not. Andrew was not heard on the subject, although he might have mouthed some comments when Elizabeth was not looking.
"Please do not be stupid to impress a lady," Fitzwilliam said with his determined frown.
"Ladies like stupidity," George said immediately. "Although Miss Bennet is an exception, I am sure. What do you say, Caroline?"
Miss Bingley was not certain on which part of speech her opinion was needed. "George, you are being a fool," she said instead. Nobody could get her to say Miss Bennet was clever.
"Why must you always agree with Fitzwilliam, Caroline? He is no better than the rest of us."
"Why must you always disagree?" Clarence Bingley exclaimed. His baby-blue eyes were open wide and he looked genuinely disconcerted. "Charles and I never disagree."
"You and Caroline, however..." George said ominously.
"Yes, but sisters are an entirely different thing. They are made to disagree with," Clarence said immediately.
Caroline guffawed. "Please! Could we raise the level of conversation just a little? This is becoming very tedious. Mr Hurst, would you not agree?"
Mr Hurst grunted his assent. Talking over a meal was always tedious.
Elizabeth was sorry to find the Darcys stopped talking altogether after Caroline's request. Perhaps they were incapable of raising the conversation to a higher level, she thought with a wicked smile. When she looked up again she saw Andrew staring at her and she coloured. Had he seen her grin? When she looked away she caught Fitzwilliam staring at her as well. She must really be an oddity! Or would something be wrong with her manners?
"I wish your sister is feeling better," Charles Bingley said to her.
"Thank you. I shall go up to see her right after dinner." Elizabeth was happy to hear someone showed some interest in Jane.
"Will you...will you let us know how she is?" he asked. "If she is well enough, could you...could you..."
She looked at him expectantly. "Er...yes, Mr Bingley?" It seemed to be a difficult question he was asking, for he blushed a little.
"Could you persuade her to come downstairs if she feels better? Or would she receive visitors upstairs?"
"I will ask her if she feels up to it."
"But do not ask if she is not feeling better," Charles hastened to say. "On no account would I want to be responsible for a worsening of her situation."
If Jane saw Charles' concern, she might feel better instead of worse, Elizabeth thought. "I should think," she said to reassure him, "that she might be in need of company if she feels better, after having spent such a long time alone." She did not think Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst could have looked after Jane for very long. They had probably left her as soon as possible.
"We sat with her for quite a long time," Caroline cut in quickly.
"Thank you for showing such concern for my sister," Elizabeth said in a sweet voice. She was sure Miss Bingley did not care at all and if she had done anything, it would have been to impress the Darcys.
"Before you got here, of course. After that we were sure dear Jane would have preferred the care of her sister."
"Yes, I am sure too."
"The more women to care for a patient, the better, I should think," George remarked.
Caroline gave him a vile stare, Elizabeth noticed. She was surprised that George should be encouraging Caroline to sit with Jane when she was there. She would have thought that George and Caroline held the same opinion in this respect and that George would also think that caring for a Bennet should be done by a Bennet. It was puzzling. Considering that his brothers were also giving him vile stares, they did agree with Caroline.
The only one who also looked puzzled was Clarence. "Would that not be too tiring for the patient?" he asked.
There were two simultaneous groans, from Fitzwilliam and Lewis. "George, I forbid you," said Fitzwilliam.
"I know," George answered with a devilish look.
Clarence still looked puzzled, but he was too polite to ask and so was Elizabeth, although she believed that she understood them. "Do you have some authority over your brothers?" she asked Fitzwilliam. He had forbidden George to speak and George had obeyed.
Fitzwilliam seemed not to like being spoken to and he frowned. "I do not think so."
"Does he?" Elizabeth did not mind stirring things up a little by asking his brothers. She looked at them in turn. They might answer when Fitzwilliam did not.
"Oh yes. He is the eldest, after all," Lewis answered.
That did not make sense to Elizabeth. "My eldest sister does not have any authority over us. You cannot blame it on his being the eldest." It was simply because Fitzwilliam was disagreeable. He had been the worst of the three she had danced with.
"That is because your sister is...your sister is..." Charles began. He did not have much success tonight in finishing his sentences in one go.
"An angel," Clarence added.
"Indeed!" Charles said and he and Clarence both beamed.
Elizabeth hoped once again that Jane would be better soon. She would not last at Netherfield for very long, not among these people. The Bingley brothers were as overly agreeable as their sisters seemed overly disagreeable and the Darcy brothers defied every attempt at describing them. Only Mr Hurst remained in the neutral middle and it was towards him that she turned next, after observing an appropriate silence so as not to offend Charles, who had spoken last. "Mr Hurst," she said. "I heard you say you prefer a ragout. May I ask which kind you like best?" Perhaps he was the only one with whom one could hold a normal conversation.
"Oh, chicken -- beyond a doubt," Hurst replied readily. He seemed eager enough to converse about food. "I challenge everyone who disagrees to a game of cards." He glanced around smugly, proud of his cleverness in bringing up his other favourite pastime.
George Darcy was always up for a challenge. "I declare that chicken ragout is absolutely fowl," he said with a contemptuous grimace.
"Oh no!" Clarence Bingley cried and looked appalled. "We had it only yesterday and you ate a lot of it." He got quite upset if someone told an untruth.
Elizabeth involuntarily made a small sound, but all the Darcys looked grave -- first at Clarence and then at her.
"You were going to say, Miss Bennet...?" Fitzwilliam inquired pompously. He was interested in hearing her comment and she had betrayed that she had one.
"Nothing, I assure you." For all her theories on the subject of being intimidated, Elizabeth could not help but feel daunted by four dark and inquisitive stares that would most certainly not relinquish her until she had answered. "Truly nothing. I think it must have been a speck of dust in my throat."
"It chose a fine moment to make its presence known."
"That is your opinion, sir. I am not sure I agree."
"I think you would," he said slowly.
"Do you?" she exclaimed. He was so presumptuous! "Would you care to tell me why?"
"No," Fitzwilliam said abruptly. "I am waiting for your answer."
Part Nine
Elizabeth, who was quite ready to speak whenever someone else did who was not a Darcy, kept silent when only Darcys spoke. She did not want to do them the honour of making them believe their conversation was worth attending to, although it was, very much so.
They were now talking about discord. Lewis and George said there would most definitely be discord among them, but Fitzwilliam was very decided in his view that there would not. Andrew was not heard on the subject, although he might have mouthed some comments when Elizabeth was not looking.
"Please do not be stupid to impress a lady," Fitzwilliam said with his determined frown.
"Ladies like stupidity," George said immediately. "Although Miss Bennet is an exception, I am sure. What do you say, Caroline?"
Miss Bingley was not certain on which part of speech her opinion was needed. "George, you are being a fool," she said instead. Nobody could get her to say Miss Bennet was clever.
"Why must you always agree with Fitzwilliam, Caroline? He is no better than the rest of us."
"Why must you always disagree?" Clarence Bingley exclaimed. His baby-blue eyes were open wide and he looked genuinely disconcerted. "Charles and I never disagree."
"You and Caroline, however..." George said ominously.
"Yes, but sisters are an entirely different thing. They are made to disagree with," Clarence said immediately.
Caroline guffawed. "Please! Could we raise the level of conversation just a little? This is becoming very tedious. Mr Hurst, would you not agree?"
Mr Hurst grunted his assent. Talking over a meal was always tedious.
Elizabeth was sorry to find the Darcys stopped talking altogether after Caroline's request. Perhaps they were incapable of raising the conversation to a higher level, she thought with a wicked smile. When she looked up again she saw Andrew staring at her and she coloured. Had he seen her grin? When she looked away she caught Fitzwilliam staring at her as well. She must really be an oddity! Or would something be wrong with her manners?
"I wish your sister is feeling better," Charles Bingley said to her.
"Thank you. I shall go up to see her right after dinner." Elizabeth was happy to hear someone showed some interest in Jane.
"Will you...will you let us know how she is?" he asked. "If she is well enough, could you...could you..."
She looked at him expectantly. "Er...yes, Mr Bingley?" It seemed to be a difficult question he was asking, for he blushed a little.
"Could you persuade her to come downstairs if she feels better? Or would she receive visitors upstairs?"
"I will ask her if she feels up to it."
"But do not ask if she is not feeling better," Charles hastened to say. "On no account would I want to be responsible for a worsening of her situation."
If Jane saw Charles' concern, she might feel better instead of worse, Elizabeth thought. "I should think," she said to reassure him, "that she might be in need of company if she feels better, after having spent such a long time alone." She did not think Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst could have looked after Jane for very long. They had probably left her as soon as possible.
"We sat with her for quite a long time," Caroline cut in quickly.
"Thank you for showing such concern for my sister," Elizabeth said in a sweet voice. She was sure Miss Bingley did not care at all and if she had done anything, it would have been to impress the Darcys.
"Before you got here, of course. After that we were sure dear Jane would have preferred the care of her sister."
"Yes, I am sure too."
"The more women to care for a patient, the better, I should think," George remarked.
Caroline gave him a vile stare, Elizabeth noticed. She was surprised that George should be encouraging Caroline to sit with Jane when she was there. She would have thought that George and Caroline held the same opinion in this respect and that George would also think that caring for a Bennet should be done by a Bennet. It was puzzling. Considering that his brothers were also giving him vile stares, they did agree with Caroline.
The only one who also looked puzzled was Clarence. "Would that not be too tiring for the patient?" he asked.
There were two simultaneous groans, from Fitzwilliam and Lewis. "George, I forbid you," said Fitzwilliam.
"I know," George answered with a devilish look.
Clarence still looked puzzled, but he was too polite to ask and so was Elizabeth, although she believed that she understood them. "Do you have some authority over your brothers?" she asked Fitzwilliam. He had forbidden George to speak and George had obeyed.
Fitzwilliam seemed not to like being spoken to and he frowned. "I do not think so."
"Does he?" Elizabeth did not mind stirring things up a little by asking his brothers. She looked at them in turn. They might answer when Fitzwilliam did not.
"Oh yes. He is the eldest, after all," Lewis answered.
That did not make sense to Elizabeth. "My eldest sister does not have any authority over us. You cannot blame it on his being the eldest." It was simply because Fitzwilliam was disagreeable. He had been the worst of the three she had danced with.
"That is because your sister is...your sister is..." Charles began. He did not have much success tonight in finishing his sentences in one go.
"An angel," Clarence added.
"Indeed!" Charles said and he and Clarence both beamed.
Elizabeth hoped once again that Jane would be better soon. She would not last at Netherfield for very long, not among these people. The Bingley brothers were as overly agreeable as their sisters seemed overly disagreeable and the Darcy brothers defied every attempt at describing them. Only Mr Hurst remained in the neutral middle and it was towards him that she turned next, after observing an appropriate silence so as not to offend Charles, who had spoken last. "Mr Hurst," she said. "I heard you say you prefer a ragout. May I ask which kind you like best?" Perhaps he was the only one with whom one could hold a normal conversation.
"Oh, chicken -- beyond a doubt," Hurst replied readily. He seemed eager enough to converse about food. "I challenge everyone who disagrees to a game of cards." He glanced around smugly, proud of his cleverness in bringing up his other favourite pastime.
George Darcy was always up for a challenge. "I declare that chicken ragout is absolutely fowl," he said with a contemptuous grimace.
"Oh no!" Clarence Bingley cried and looked appalled. "We had it only yesterday and you ate a lot of it." He got quite upset if someone told an untruth.
Elizabeth involuntarily made a small sound, but all the Darcys looked grave -- first at Clarence and then at her.
"You were going to say, Miss Bennet...?" Fitzwilliam inquired pompously. He was interested in hearing her comment and she had betrayed that she had one.
"Nothing, I assure you." For all her theories on the subject of being intimidated, Elizabeth could not help but feel daunted by four dark and inquisitive stares that would most certainly not relinquish her until she had answered. "Truly nothing. I think it must have been a speck of dust in my throat."
"It chose a fine moment to make its presence known."
"That is your opinion, sir. I am not sure I agree."
"I think you would," he said slowly.
"Do you?" she exclaimed. He was so presumptuous! "Would you care to tell me why?"
"No," Fitzwilliam said abruptly. "I am waiting for your answer."
Part Ten
"I am truly sorry that you will be waiting forever for my answer, Mr Darcy," Elizabeth said archly. "Perhaps I should be well-mannered and tell you I believe there is no answer to give, just to spare you the trouble of waiting." She was not going to tell him what she had been thinking. She knew what his scheme was. He wanted her to say something uncomplimentary about Mr Bingley so he was enforced in his opinions on the lack of manners in the country, but that was not going to happen. She was not going to say something negative about one of the two people who cared about Jane. She would not even do that had Mr Darcy not been out to trap her and Fitzwilliam Darcy was most certainly transparent in his efforts. Elizabeth glared at him. She had him all figured out. He was an arrogant and self-righteous man and she was sorry she had to share a dinner table with him.
"Waiting is no trouble at all," Fitzwilliam said in an almost gentlemanlike tone.
Elizabeth was certain he had some obscure and evil purpose with that tone. He was trying to make her feel at ease in order to strike when she least expected it. She raised her chin defiantly. "That relieves any worries I might have had."
"However, I am still interested in hearing your answer. What were you going to say, Miss Bennet, before that speck of dust got in the way?"
"Indeed," said Lewis. "I am sure it is something that we should all like to hear."
"I cannot be persuaded to reveal my thoughts, because I did not have any," Elizabeth answered. As she spoke, she realised she was perhaps not speaking the most felicitous words. What opportunities was she providing by saying she did not have any thoughts? The present company was too sharp for her to get away with such a statement.
"Oh dear," George said as sympathetically as he could. "I am sorry to hear that. I pity you most heartily, Miss Bennet, to be interrogated by my brother about thoughts you did not have. He is very tenacious and he is incapable of grasping the concept of people with blank minds."
"George," Fitzwilliam said warningly.
"I do not have a blank mind!" Elizabeth protested. She was intelligent enough to sense that they had the advantage now. How was she going to get it back? But she was up against at least three, although Andrew, being a Darcy, should not be discounted. He was probably offering some silent support.
"So you did have thoughts?" Fitzwilliam inquired, his eyebrows raised.
"Please, can we move on to a more interesting topic?" Miss Bingley exclaimed. While she rather liked the idea of cornering Elizabeth, she felt sufficiently ignored by the gentlemen to draw some attention to herself in the hopes they would abandon the pursuit.
"There is nothing more interesting to Fitzwilliam than a blank mind, however," George told her. "I thought you were aware of that." She behaved as if she had a blank mind often enough. Perhaps she did that on purpose. Then again, if she did it on purpose she could not really have a blank mind. This conversation was raising some fascinating issues and he raised his eyebrows as well.
"That is not true," said Fitzwilliam, somewhat angrily.
"Do you mean it is not true that Caroline is aware of it, or do you mean that you are not interested in blank minds?"
"We are still waiting for Miss Bennet's answer."
"How tedious," Mr Hurst sighed. "Does anybody care what Miss Bennet thinks?"
"Yes," said several voices at once.
"I should be flattered, but I must disappoint you," Elizabeth said politely. "I am sure I could never say anything that would satisfy the curiosity of such sophisticated gentlemen and therefore I must remain silent about the thoughts I may or may not have had. I know what you are about," she said to Fitzwilliam Darcy.
"I had been thinking I would never live to see the day that a lady announced she knew what Fitzwilliam was about," George remarked. "You must be exceedingly clever, Miss Bennet, but how can we reconcile this to your claim of not having had any thoughts?"
"Why must one be exceedingly clever to see through Mr Darcy, Mr Darcy?"
"Which Mr Darcy would that be, Miss Bennet? There are four of us and we are as different from each other as you are from your sisters."
Elizabeth looked at him doubtfully. No comparison between the two families was possible. "Perhaps you ought to study us a little better before draw such a conclusion."
George looked smug. "Ergo..."
"George, I am sure some of us would prefer it if you stuck to English at the dinner table," said Miss Bingley briskly. "In the presence of ladies a gentleman should not be using obscure foreign words."
"Remind me of that when you are using French, my dear Caroline," George shot back. "Think of all the gentlemen who are allergic to obscure and dangerous foreign words like trousseau."
Caroline gave him an evil look.
Charles Bingley had been listening in growing distress and he felt he had to speak up. Sometimes he could feel a nasty undercurrent that alarmed him. "Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot help but feel that we ought to change the subject to something lighter. Ladies, have you perhaps studied a new piece of music that you are willing to play after dinner?"
Caroline and Louisa were not interested in music tonight. The atmosphere was not right; it was too tense to discuss music. Both of them denied knowing a new piece to play. "Andrew might," Caroline suggested.
Andrew coloured at being mentioned. "N-N-No," he stammered. "I do not know it well enough yet."
"You are among family and friends," Charles said encouragingly. "Nobody will mind. We are bored of my sisters' repertoire."
"Thank you, Charles," said Caroline in a dry, sarcastic voice.
"I should love to hear you play," Elizabeth said to Andrew. She too would do anything to change the subject and Mr Bingley's effort should be supported. The Darcys ought to be thwarted. "Or do you sing?"
Andrew looked horrified at the idea of raising his voice in company. "No, I do not sing!"
"Not in public, anyway," George commented.
His brother looked uncomfortable. "Nowhere."
"All right, nowhere." But a glance passed between the brothers that made Elizabeth wondered if Andrew did sing in certain places. She wondered where.
"Would the music not bother Miss Bennet? The other Miss Bennet?" Clarence Bingley wondered. "She might be able to hear it."
"We could ask her," said his brother.
Elizabeth knew that this was useless, since Jane was never going to admit that something was bothering her. Perhaps nothing ever bothered her. "Thank you for your kind consideration, Mr Bingley. I shall see her directly after dinner and ask whether she minds, assuming the sound reaches her." It was a large house. Jane would probably not hear a thing.
"Please convey my deepest wishes for her speedy recovery," Charles said very sincerely.
"And mine," Clarence added.
"All of our wishes," said Fitzwilliam, who probably felt compelled by propriety and politeness to say that. It would be rude to remain silent at this point.
Elizabeth returned to Jane when dinner was over. She was glad to leave the confusing gentlemen behind. There was such a thing as overexposure to Darcys.
"I am so happy to see you!" said Jane. "I was quite lonely."
"And I am happy to be here. I found the company downstairs to be detestable." Elizabeth shuddered dramatically.
"Detestable!" exclaimed Jane, whose thoughts immediately turned to the Bingleys. Her sister could not be talking about them, or had she been too generous and gullible again? "Surely they are not!"
"I admit that Mr Bingley and his brother are both very pleasant," Elizabeth said with a laugh at her sister's transparency. "And they were very concerned about you!"
This made Jane blush. "You must be exaggerating, Lizzy." She was too modest and hopeful to believe that the Bingleys could have voiced any concern about her.
"No, I am not. They were really concerned. I have to convey their deepest wishes for your speedy recovery," Elizabeth teased her sister. "Oh and the Darcys' wishes too, but..." She shrugged dismissively. She did not take those seriously, so neither should Jane. The Bingleys mattered more. "Which one do you like best, Charles or Clarence?" She herself was inclined to say Charles and she was curious about Jane's opinion.
"I do not know," Jane hedged. "They are both very agreeable. Perhaps I should see more of them to be able to make such a judgement." She was reluctant to give her opinion based on such a short acquaintance.
"Come downstairs with me then, if you feel well enough. Mr Andrew appears to be a musician and he will play tonight. Do you feel up to it?"
"I think so." Jane was bored enough to give it a try, even though she did not feel very well yet.
Elizabeth was happy to see her sister felt so much better. "Wonderful! I shall need an agreeable person to sit with me! All those Darcys give me the shudders. If you sit with me I shall be able to ignore them the way they deserve."
Part Eleven
Elizabeth wanted to leave Jane briefly to get something from her own room, but as she was lingering in the door, she heard running footsteps somewhere down the corridor and a door that slammed.
It was odd, for there was nobody in the house she could immediately think of who would run -- not Caroline, not Louisa and most certainly none of the Darcy brothers. It could not be a servant, because the person had disappeared into a room on the same floor. She paused and glanced in both direction. There was nothing to be seen. She shrugged and wondered if she had imagined it.
When she was close to her own room, she heard a door being opened very cautiously, with a slow squeak. Again she looked, but it was too dark to see where it was or if anyone was peering out. "Who is there?" Elizabeth called out, but the only response was the closing of the door, as slowly as it had been opened.
As puzzling as it was, someone appeared to be spying on her. She was not one to be daunted and mysteries were there to be solved. Forgetting Jane for an instant, she decided to go past all the doors to see who would answer. The first room she tried belonged to George Darcy. Until then she had not realised that a young lady should not knock on a gentleman's door after dinner, even though he was supposed to be downstairs.
He greeted her with a saucy smile. "Have you got lost, Miss Bennet?" he inquired. "Do you need me to show you the way?"
"No, sir. Did you open and close your door just now?" She ignored that saucy look and wished it was possible to ignore George altogether.
"No, Miss Bennet. May I ask why you wish to know?"
"I heard something."
"Large mansions can be draughty places."
"Yes, they can, but I am sure I heard a door. I was wondering which one." It had been too deliberate a movement to ascribe it to a simply draught. George looked as if he knew more about it, but his room was a bit too far away for her to have heard him close his door.
"Are you going to report this to the carpenter so he can take a look at it?" George Darcy asked. "Perhaps you are better acquainted with the local carpenters than Bingley."
"I apologise for bothering you," Elizabeth told him. She was not going to get an answer out of him.
George stared after her as she tried the next door. "You are a persistent woman, Miss Bennet. I like that."
Elizabeth ignored him and stood waiting. For some reason all the Darcys, or at least two of them, had gone up to their rooms. This door was opened by Andrew. "I am sorry, but I have a question," she began.
Andrew glanced at George and looked as if he wished very much for his brother to answer that question. "Oh."
"Did you open and close your door?"
"I have opened it, but not yet closed it," Andrew answered. "It is still open," he added after a few seconds, but in a softer voice, as if he was not confident about speaking more than one sentence.
"Er...that was not quite what I meant."
A panicky look appeared on Andrew's face. He had done it wrong. He never should have opened his mouth. "What did you mean then?"
"I meant -- did you open your door before you answered my knock?" she asked in exasperation. They were either deliberately obtuse or obstructing her investigations.
"No...I was busy..."
"Thank you." She moved on down the row and knocked on the next door.
"Is something wrong?" asked Lewis Darcy, the occupant of that next room.
"Have you opened your door and closed it some time before my knock?" asked Elizabeth, who had learnt from her previous experiences that ought to be detailed and not vague.
"No, why should I? There would not be any reason to open it if nobody was knocking and I did not know you were going to knock, so I could not anticipate it."
"Thank...you," she said slowly, trying to control her voice. They were so annoying, all of them.
She could not stop now. She had to move on, even though George, Andrew and Lewis were now following her every move. It was fairly predictable that the next room should contain Fitzwilliam, but it did not. Clarence answered her knock.
It began to be tedious to keep asking the same thing. "Did you open and close your door?"
"Uh?"
"Open -- close -- door."
"No."
Elizabeth moved on, to the other side of the passage, not having enough patience anymore to explain herself politely to Clarence, even though he seemed to be the one most in need of explanations. She encountered Charles behind the next door. What were all of them doing in their rooms? It was odd. They were supposed to be having a drink downstairs. She had thought she was the only one who had gone upstairs.
"Is something wrong with Miss Bennet?" Charles inquired immediately, a concerned frown wrinkling his brow.
His solicitousness did him credit and Elizabeth forgave him for not answering her question directly. "No, no! I merely came to ask you if you have opened and closed your door within the last five minutes."
Charles shook his head. "I cannot say that I did. Why are you asking?"
"Because I heard something."
"Are you frightened?" he asked.
"With so many fearless gentlemen in the house?" George felt compelled to add.
Elizabeth decided that the best thing to do with George was to ignore him. She moved on to the next room.
"That is Caroline's and she is downstairs," George said helpfully.
In this particular instance she decided not to ignore George. "And the next?"
"Mrs Hurst. Then Mr Hurst. Both of them are downstairs. Then Fitzwilliam," he said with obvious glee.
Fitzwilliam, the well-bred gentleman that he was, did not expect a young lady to knock on his door and he looked very taken aback that it was not one of his brothers when he opened the door. He was also not really fit to be seen. He closed the door hastily, leaving Elizabeth to stand gaping and his brothers to laugh merrily.
It was Andrew who was so bold as to enter the room without knocking and to Elizabeth's great surprise he was no ushered out, but he remained inside for several minutes. "It was not Fitzwilliam," he said gravely.
"That was Fitzwilliam," Lewis said with a frown. "Perhaps Miss Bennet did not recognise him thus, but I did."
"But he did not open his door."
"Miss Bennet heard the Netherfield ghost," George cackled.
"I shall not believe you. You are inventing one," she told him. Nothing that George said could be trusted.
"Fine. But those are precisely the people the ghost bothers most. My brothers and I all believe in him and yet we did not hear any doors."
"And running footsteps," Elizabeth remarked.
"There you have it -- footsteps cannot run."
"I fail to see your point." Ghosts could not run either. Ghosts did not exist. It had to have been a live person.
"Perhaps you are hallucinating," George suggested. "What is taking Fitz?" He knocked on the door.
Fitzwilliam appeared, looking immaculate as usual. "I heard from Andrew that Miss Bennet is frightened?"
"No!" she cried. How could he? She glared at him and he cast down his eyes. Then she glared at all of them in turn, softening her look when she came to Charles. He at least had showed some concern for Jane. "I shall go back to my room, because I find you very unhelpful."
"We are deeply sorry."
She ignored that comment by whoever had said it and went to her room. Once there, she remembered she had only gone there to fetch something and that Jane was still awaiting her return anxiously, so that they could prepare to go downstairs. When she had found what she was looking for, she stepped out of the room again, to come face to face with a tall person with a blanket over its head. With a shriek she jumped back and the person cackled and ran off.
Elizabeth was not one to be scared very quickly. "You are not funny!" she called after him, assuming he was one of the Darcys, but surprisingly he ran off in the wrong direction and not to one of their rooms. Soon he had turned the corner and his footsteps faded as he went down the stairs.