Section I, Next Section
Chapter 1
"NETHERFIELD PARK IS LET AT LAST!"
Those words had been reverberating throughout Longbourne ever since Mrs. Bennet first heard them. It was not that which she found worthy of repeating so often. No, it was the fact that Netherfield Park had been let by a young man. An unmarried young man. An unmarried young man with a large fortune and the huge income of five thousand pounds per annum. Now that had her truly excited. She had already determined that one of her five daughters would change his status from unmarried to married. Or to be more exact, one of her two favorite daughters.
She would have preferred it be her very favorite, Lydia, but she had to allow that her eldest, Jane, was by far the more beautiful. Mrs. Bennet was, after all, realistic.
"Five times as beautiful, at least," she told Mr. Bennet not long after she had made her decision. "And a rich man would prefer beauty. Jane was not born so beautiful for nothing."
"There will be ample opportunity," she reasoned, "to find Lydia a rich husband. Once Jane marries the newcomer, the rest of our daughters will be thrown in the way of other rich men."
"Yes, that is it," Mrs. Bennet thought, after Mr. Bennet had returned to the seclusion of his library. "Lydia will have her pick of husbands from Jane's new social circle. It would be unfair to limit her to just one choice. After all, Lydia is still young. Her beauty is still developing. Someday soon she will be just as beautiful as Jane. And," she decided, "it would be too cruel to have Lydia leave home so soon. Lydia always makes me smile. Yes, Jane it will be. If only Mr. Bennet took more interest in meeting the young man when he arrived."
The Bennet's closest neighbor, Sir William Lucas, was all aflutter. He vowed he was prepared to call directly when the new tenant made his appearance, while Mr. Bennet merely rolled his eyes and disappeared into his library when the subject came up. Truth be told, Mr. Bennet was enjoying the commotion. He loved the daily displays that Mrs. Bennet put on for his benefit. He had it all planned. He would visit the newcomer. Of course he would. There was never really any doubt on that score. He was, after all, a gentleman and would call upon the young man the same as he would call upon any new neighbor. He was under no obligation, however, to tell Mrs. Bennet that.
"No," he thought, "it will be much more fun to let her fret until the very last moment, then when she has given up all hope, I will spring it on her. She is emotional. She is dramatic. This will be the perfect opportunity to present her with the occasion to give full vent to her talents. It will be my gift to her. It will increase her joy to have to wait for it."
Mrs. Bennet's least favorite daughter, had she been rating them, was Lizzy. She did not even consider Lizzy when choosing which daughter would be married to the new neighbor. There was something about Lizzy that made her uncomfortable, actually there were a lot of things about Lizzy that made Mrs. Bennet uncomfortable. She always seemed to be laughing. It got on Mrs. Bennet's nerves, which made Lizzy laugh even more. Not that she was rude enough to laugh out loud in Mrs. Bennet's face. No, Mrs. Bennet had taught her better than that. It was that look on her face, that smirk, implying that Lizzy was dealing with a difficult child. That look made Mrs. Bennet feel for certain that Lizzy was laughing to herself. And that feeling of being laughed at, in turn, did nothing to improve Mrs. Bennet's nerves.
"My poor nerves," Mrs. Bennet lamented. "It is all very vexing!" Mrs. Bennet was the mistress of an estate that was entailed away from the female line and there she was, stuck with five daughters. No sons. She knew that Mr. Bennet had done it on purpose just to make life difficult for her. He had no consideration for her nerves.
"After all," she fretted, "had it been left up to me, I would have had a son, perhaps two, then locked my bedchamber door. An heir and a spare. That was all that we needed to break that stupid entail. Now Iam stuck with five daughters and a husband who refuses to call on our future son-in-law. It is all his fault! Oh, I feel faint."
Theirs was a small neighborhood, with only four and twenty families dining together on a regular basis. There were few available young men with whom to socialize. The families all seemed to be made up of young women. Unmarried young women. Mrs. Bennet knew she could not afford to let the other fathers get to the new neighbor first. It would be a shame if the new neighbor were to take an interest in one of the other young women. Mrs. Bennet did not like to think of the hurt feelings that would be involved when he then made the acquaintance of Jane and switched his allegiance.
"No," she thought kindly, "better if there were only a way to induce Mr. Bennet to call. It would save so much fuss and bother to have him fall in love with Jane at the outset." She always tried to be kind and thoughtful.
The days passed and soon even more rumours were flying. He now had a name: Mr. Bingley. Mr. Charles Bingley. And he was going to bring a large party of friends when he came to stay at Michelmas. A large party of friends. Mrs. Bennet was thrilled. What could be better? They were sure to be all rich, unmarried men. She wondered how large, large was. It might be possible to get more than one daughter married. Lydia then said something about ladies in the party. In fact, she mentioned quite a lot of ladies. Mrs. Bennet was surprised when Lizzy had seen the complications at once.
"Too many ladies," Lizzy said. For once, Mrs. Bennet and Lizzy agreed on something. Mrs. Bennet was pleased to at last have Lizzy agree with her. She now felt the importance of Mr. Bennet calling upon Mr. Bingley even more urgently. Not a moment was to be lost.
That Mr. Bennet! If his continued good health had not been so important in maintaining her position as Mistress of Longbourn, she would have strangled him. He was impossible!
Michelmas came and went and soon after Mrs. Bennet heard news of Mr. Bingley from his callers. Sir William Lucas had been one of the very first. Lady Lucas had made a point of telling Mrs. Bennet of his visit as soon as was humanly possible. Even Mrs. Long had made Mr. Bingley's acquaintance. Well, Mrs. Bennet knew that it would all be in vain.
"After all," she thought spitefully, "what rich man would look at the Lucas girls? And Mrs. Long's nieces. They have even less to recommend themselves than those Lucas girls."
Unbeknownst to Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Bennet was also among the first to call upon Mr. Bingley and had formed a very favorable impression of the young man. Favorable enough that if Mr. Bingley were to fall in love with one of his daughters, he decided he would be happy to give his permission at once.
"Perhaps," Mr. Bennet thought wryly, as he watched the eager, friendly young man while they spoke, "I should just give my permission now and save him the trouble of asking." He could not help but smile at that thought. He noticed Mr. Bingley's quizical look. "Or, perhaps not," he though, "Mr. Bingley might like to at least meet them before asking."
Less than a week remained until the next Meryton Assembly was scheduled. The Bennet girls had gotten new gowns. Jane and Lydia had. Lizzy was perfectly content to wear one of the gowns that she already owned, while Mary actually preferred wearing an old gown. Only Kitty was left dissatisfied.
"It's not fair," Kitty grumped to whomever would listen. "I have as much right to a new gown as Lydia. More, for I am two years older."
It happened that when Lizzy heard her lament, she said, "Kitty, you know that you look lovely in the gowns you have, while Lydia really is in need of a new gown. You are fully grown, while she is still growing and the old gowns that she has no longer fit her properly. I would not wish to be seen with her wearing something so ill fitting. Would you?"
"But Lizzy," Kitty sniffled, "Mama has decided that Mr. Bingley will marry either Jane or Lydia. She does not think that he will even look in my direction. I am not worth the effort or expense of a new gown."
Lizzy sighed deeply. "No Kitty, nor am I. We shall just have to sit in the corner with Mary and discuss philosophy."
Kitty looked at Lizzy in horror and made a mental note to herself not to speak on the subject to Lizzy again, which may very well have been Lizzy's intention. The thought occurred to Kitty, but with Lizzy, one could never tell. Best to take no chances.
MEANWHILE AT NETHERFIELD, Miss Caroline Bingley was mad. No, she was irate! She was as angry as she could ever remember being. In her entire life! She was stuck in the backwater called Hertfordshire and her main reason for being there had just been taken away.
"Mr. Darcy not coming," she fumed. "First he said he would meet us here after he paid a surprise visit to Ramsgate to see that pathetic little mouse he calls his sister. Next thing I hear, he has an emergency at Pemberley that must be attended to at once. Now he writes to say that he does not think he will be able to leave Pemberley for quite some time. Bah! This was to be the culmination of all my years of effort. This was to be the occasion of my betrothal to Mr. Darcy. It is all his sister's fault. It must be. He should never have taken the time to visit her in Ramsgate. I will call a halt to that sort of brotherly behavior when I become Mrs. Darcy."
She paced the drawing room floor, wishing she had someone, anyone, to vent her spleen upon. Her brother, Charles, was out visiting the farmers who worked the land surrounding Netherfield. Her sister was tending to her pathetic, drunken husband.
"What is happening with Charles?" she muttered aloud to herself. "When I demanded that we all go back to London, he told me I was welcome to go, but that he intended to stay, Darcy or no Darcy. What does he mean by that? He cannot mean that he really enjoys the society here. It cannot be born! He must be made to see reason."
Mr. Charles Bingley was enjoying the society in Hertfordshire and had no plans to leave, for one very good reason. Soon after his arrival, he had been in the fields speaking with Mr. Evans, one of the farmers who worked the Netherfield lands, and he had seen a group of young women pass by on the road to Meryton. In that group, he had seen an angel.
"Mr. Evans," he had asked, "would you be able to tell me who those young ladies are?"
"Aye, Mr. Bingley," Mr. Evans had replied. "They be the Bennet lasses. A finer family of girls you will find nowhere." Mr. Bingley had agreed with Mr. Evans at once. Most heartily!
A day later when Mr. Bennet, the father of the angel, had come to call, Mr. Bingley had been genuinely thrilled. The two had gotten on famously. He had heard from several other of his visitors that the Bennet family had been blessed with not only great beauty, but sweet and virtuous natures, as well. Better and better.
Mr. Bingley had no plans to leave Netherfield and told his sister that in no uncertain terms. Indeed, he was eagerly awaiting the Assembly being held in Meryton, for there, he hoped, would be the opportunity to meet the angel. He spent a good deal of time visiting the farmers that worked the land between Longbourn and Netherfield, being rewarded with several more glimpses of the angel.
THE SHADES OF PEMBERLEY were cool and soothing during the unseasonably hot weather of early October that year. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and his young sister, Georgiana spent much time walking through the many woods and groves surrounding their home.
Mr. Darcy thought back to his surprise visit to Ramsgate, where his sister had gone with her companion for a visit during the late summer. He had been the one surprised. More than surprised. Shocked! He had been shocked and grieved to find his sister arm-in-arm with the scoundrel, George Wickham.
"Will we never be free of him?" Mr. Darcy silently groaned as he looked at his sister's solemn face. "She should be playing games, playing with dolls, not fancying herself in love with that reprobate. He stole her childhood away from her." He vowed again at that moment to make the healing and protection of his sister the major focus of his life. He would do anything to provide the proper environment necessary for her to flourish, even if that included marrying someone he did not love in order to provide her with a sister to guide her into adulthood.
Chapter 2
THE CANDLES WERE lit, the flowers arranged, the tables prepared for refreshments, the musicians were tuning their instruments. The Meryton Assembly Rooms were ready for the evening ahead. It would be a momentous night, indeed.
Mrs. Bennet and her five daughters were among the first to arrive. She had rushed all her daughters in their preparations, all excepting Jane and Lydia, of course. Jane and Lydia. Lydia and Jane. Her two favorite daughters. In her eagerness to be introduced to Mr. Bingley, she forgot all ideas of being fashionably late and making a grand entrance.
"No," she thought as she inspected her daughters prior to mounting the carriage. "It would be better to greet Mr. Bingley when he arrives, that way he will be able to meet Jane immediately. Oh, what a good surprise it was to find that Mr. Bennet visited Mr. Bingley so early after his arrival. Mr. Bennet is the very best of husbands. Now we can rest assured that Mr. Bingley will not feel slighted. Now nothing stands in the way of an alliance between my dearest Jane and Mr. Bingley. Nothing at all."
The trickle of arrivals quickly swelled and soon the assembly rooms were teeming with activity. Mrs. Bennet kept her attention fastened to the entry, waiting for that magical moment when Mr. Bingley appeared.
The musicians began to play the introduction to the first dance and still there was no sign of Mr. Bingley and his large party. His large party of unmarried, rich friends. Mrs. Bennet began to fret. She patted her head to make sure her feathers were still securely fastened in her mass of curls. She tugged on her dress, making sure that the folds of the skirt hung correctly. She fingered the lace edging on her sleeves. A young man approached Jane and looked as if he were about to ask her to dance, but after seeing the forbidding look on Mrs. Bennet's face, he veered away and asked Miss Amy Long to dance.
"Mama," Lizzy whispered, seeing what her mother was about. "Do you not think it better to have Mr. Bingley see that Jane is admired by all than to think that no one is willing to stand up with her?"
"Oh, dear," Mrs. Bennet thought. She knew that Lizzy was a clever girl. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps he will think less of Jane if she is standing on the side instead of dancing. Oh, dear!" She beamed at Lizzy. She thought to herself, "Perhaps Lizzy is not so bad after all."
Mrs. Bennet commanded the next gentleman to pass their way to ask Jane to dance. He was only too happy to comply as Jane was considered the finest gem of the neighborhood. Lizzy watched the whole display with growing amusement. Lizzy moved away from her mother to speak with her friend, Charlotte Lucas, and was soon herself asked to dance.
Mrs. Bennet fussed. She fretted. The dancing had been underway for over half an hour and still there was no sign of Mr. Bingley.
THE CARPET IN THE ENTRY hall of Netherfield would never be the same. Mr. Bingley had been pacing back and forth, causing a matted path of footprints to form. His brother-in-law, Henry Hurst, was calmly sitting in the drawing room, drinking port, while his sisters, Caroline and Louisa, prepared for the evening's festivities. Mr. Bingley stopped and looked up hopefully at the top of the stairs when he heard the sound of movement, only to be disappointed when he saw a maid bustle by in the hallway at the top of the stairs.
"For two women who said they did not wish to go to this assembly, they are taking an inordinate amount of time preparing themselves for it," he muttered. He resumed his pacing, then got an idea. He turned and went to the drawing room door.
"I say, Hurst, would you be awfully offended if I rode on ahead and left you to accompany Caroline and Louisa to the assembly?" he asked hopefully.
Mr. Hurst drained the liquid from the bottom of his glass and looked up. "Of course not, Bingley. If I have any luck, without you to nag at them they will decide to stay home. In any case, this will give me time for a little more fortification against the boredom. Ride away. Leave the ladies to me." He lifted his empty glass in salute to Mr. Bingley, then reached for a refill.
"Thank-you, Hurst. I knew I could count on you." He turned on his heel and headed back to the entry. "Good chap," he thought, "aside from drinking a little too much." He tactfully refused to think about the reason that Hurst drank so much. It would not do to attribute Louisa as the cause of the man's intemperance, no matter how true it might be. "No," he vowed, "I shall never think that."
As he came out of the drawing room, he saw his sisters descending the stairway.
"Really, Charles," Caroline said. "I thought you were in a hurry and now I see that you have been in the drawing room joining Mr. Hurst in a drink. Have you changed your mind about attending?"
"No, indeed, I have not, Caroline. I was just making arrangements to go ahead without you. If you would rather stay home, it would be fine with me."
Caroline was still upset about being thwarted in her plans to marry Mr. Darcy and seeing how eager her brother was to depart, determined to be as slow as possible. She was sure that he had something to do with Mr. Darcy's desertion of her. He was probably in collusion with Miss Perfect Darcy. He was supposed to marry her, not form plots with her. "That little minx," she muttered to herself.
"Oh, no, Charles," she said. "I have quite changed my mind, which is why I am taking such care in getting ready for this evening. I realized how important it is for you to make a good first impression and I want to do you credit. I will not let you down. I promise. It will only be a few more moments before Louisa and I are ready to go." She paused for a moment. "Oh, dear, I seem to have forgotten something important. I will be back in an instant." She turned and climbed back up the stairs, smiling to herself as she heard her brother's soft groan.
After what seemed like almost an eternity to Mr. Bingley, but was, in truth, not above a half hour, Mr. Bingley and his party were at last seated in his carriage, pulling away from Netherfield and heading toward Meryton.
THE DANCING AT THE ASSEMBLY proceeded for over an hour while Mrs. Bennet waited for Mr. Bingley to make his entrance. She was wracking her brains, trying to find a circumstance or a person to blame for his absence when there was a pause between dances and in that pause, a commotion began at the entryway. The whole of the assembled dancers turned to look at the small group of people that had entered. It was obvious who they were. Even if Mrs. Bennet had not heard his name whispered by numerous voices, she would have known it was Mr. Bingley. She could recognize money when she saw it.
"Where is the large group of young men?" Mrs. Bennet muttered in dismay to Jane who had just returned from dancing. "Two men and two women. This is terrible! Next we will find out that he is married and there is no single Mr. Bingley at all. Oh, what will become of us?" Mrs. Bennet could feel her nerves begin to protest.
Jane, too, was watching the newcomers when the taller of the two men, the handsome one with blond, curly hair, looked over at her and caught her eye. She stared back, startled by the man's steady gaze. She felt a blush rising onto her cheeks and after several long moments, an eternity really, she tore her eyes away in embarrassment.
"She is here!" Mr. Bingley wanted to shout when his eyes had picked her out of the crowd. He noted the pleasing blush that rose on her cheeks and when she turned her eyes away from him he began to search the room for her father. Unable to locate Mr. Bennet, he turned his attention to Sir William Lucas who had stepped forward to welcome him to Meryton. He allowed himself to be introduced to Sir William's daughters, even asking the elder to dance, as politeness dictated.
"She watches me when she thinks I am not looking," Mr. Bingley thought with a smile after he had caught Jane's eye for the second time during his dance with Charlotte. "She is even more lovely this close up. She is an angel."
He saw his sisters during one turn of the dancing and felt a small pang of guilt. They looked miserable. And Hurst . . . . well, no worries there. He was happy. He had found a chair and a bottle. The next turn in the dance brought Jane back into his view and his sisters were forgotten. He had an thought. One which he knew he should be ashamed of but he thought it all the same.
He thought, "What a good thing Darcy is in Derbyshire and not here. Were he here, he would be the one to catch the notice of Miss Bennet and with her great beauty, she would catch his eye." The thought should have made him ashamed, as Mr. Darcy was his closest friend, but it did not. This night belonged to him. This night he did not want to take his place behind Mr. Darcy as their relative status in society had always dictated. This night he was glad he did not have to defer to Mr. Darcy where Miss Bennet was concerned. This was his night.
Jane could not help but feel his eyes on her, even as she determined not to seek him out. As much as she tried, she could not keep herself from watching him proceed through the dance with Charlotte, looking away only when there was the danger of him seeing her watch him. Several times, however, she was not quick enough.
"He would rather be with me," Jane thought with pleasure as their eyes connected briefly. He smiled everytime their eyes met. Everytime their eyes met, she blushed.
Mrs. Bennet was almost frantic. "There he is and because Mr. Bennet refused to come, he was forced to ask Charlotte to dance first of any. But wait! He keeps looking this way." Mrs. Bennet turned in time to see the blush rising on Jane's face. She quickly looked back at Mr. Bingley to see him watching Jane, a smile beginning on his face.
"All is not lost," she said to herself in relief. "Of course not. All he had to do was get a glimpse of Jane. I knew it would happen. It is just as I planned."
At long last the dance with Charlotte was ended and Mr. Bingley asked Sir William to introduce him to Mrs. Bennet and her daughters. He followed Sir William toward her, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
"Jane, her name is Jane," he thought as Mrs. Bennet continued to name off her daughters. He struggled to follow her conversation and somehow managed at the appropriate moment to ask Jane to dance for the next two.
Lizzy could not help but be amused as she watched the yearning looks pass between her sister and Mr. Bingley. "Perhaps Mama is right," she thought. "Perhaps all Mr. Bingley needed to do was see Jane to fall in love."
She wistfully watched them take their place in the dance, smiling only for each other.
THERE WAS A CHILL in the air at Pemberley that evening, the first real chill they had felt that autumn. Mr. Darcy watched the flames leap and dance in the fireplace while his sister played the piano-forte. His thoughts had been turning more and more toward matrimony since he and Georgiana had returned from Ramsgate.
He had always hoped to marry for love. He had even fancied himself headed toward love several times. The young women involved had been lovely, but there had been something lacking in each. They had been suitable in every way but one. There was no depth to their thinking. His opinions became their opinions, his ideas were the most clever they had ever heard. He longed for someone to understand him, not agree with him. Someone who could challenge him, not placate him.
He now knew that his own desire for a special relationship, one that would fullfill his dreams, was not only an improbability, but also selfish. He had his sister's needs to consider. He would have to give careful thought as to the next Mrs. Darcy. First and foremost would be to choose someone that was strong. Someone able guide and shield Georgiana as she made her way into society.
Chapter 3
"KITTY AND I DANCED EVERY dance, and Mary none," Lydia said dramatically as she collapsed on a chair after Mrs. Bennet and her daughters returned from the assembly.
Lizzy saw Mary flinch and spoke up. "There were far too few agreeable partners, Lydia. I, myself, spent a good portion of the evening watching from the sidelines or visiting with friends."
"Jane was so admired", gushed Mrs. Bennet to her husband. "It was just as I said it would be. Once Mr. Bingley laid eyes on Jane, he could see no other."
"Mama," Jane protested, "he danced with Charlotte and Lizzy and Amy Long. Indeed, he danced every dance."
"Yes, Jane, he did," Mrs. Bennet said, smiling at the memory of the dance, "but he could hardly keep his eyes off of you, even when he was dancing with the other girls. You are the only one that he asked to dance more than once and he made sure to bring you refreshments and stand by your side while you ate them. Plus, he made a point to introduce you to his sisters. Oh! Such elegant women. Such lovely gowns. The lace on Miss Bingley's gown. I have never seen such lace. Why it was . . . "
"Enough of lace, I beg of you," Mr. Bennet interrupted. "Tell me Lizzy, what did you think of Mr. Bingley?"
"It grieves me to have to disappoint you Father," Lizzy said, laughing, "but I am afraid that I must agree with Mama. Mr. Bingley did seem very taken with Jane. I believe that he would very much like to continue his acquaintance with her."
Mr. Bennet looked at his favorite daughter, his surprise great. She had agreed with her mother. It was a rare occurance, indeed! She was usually careful not to admit it, even when she did agree with her mother.
Jane, unable to listen to the conversation any longer with composure, excused herself to go to bed. She longed for the solitude of her room so that she could relive the evening in her memory. As soon as she left the room, her face was split by a happy smile. This would be a night she would never forget.
"I SAW LITTLE BEAUTY and no breeding," Caroline snorted as she paced the drawing room in Netherfield. "It was as I knew it would be. Now, will you consider returning to town, Charles?"
"I had a wonderful evening," Mr. Bingley argued. "I have never seen so many pleasant girls in all my life. Some of them were uncommonly pretty."
"I suppose you mean the girl you introduced us to, what was her name?" Caroline asked snidely.
"Miss Jane Bennet," Mr. Bingley replied, his voice growing soft with the remembrance of her smiles.
"She smiles too much," Caroline said tartly. "I suppose she is pretty, in a provincial sort of way."
"She's an angel!" Mr. Bingley replied. "She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld and I dare you to disagree."
Caroline started at the tone of his voice. "How dare he speak in that tone?" she thought. "I am his sister and she is nothing. He never saw her before this evening and already he is besotted. This is quick, even for him. If only Mr. Darcy were here. He could open Charles eyes to his own folly."
Louisa saw the her brother was becoming irritated with Caroline. After several long, uncomfortable moments of silence, she knew she had to speak.
"Yes, Charles, Jane is very pretty and I think that I would like to know her better." She glanced at Caroline and saw her narrowed eyes. "It grieves me to disagree with you about Jane, Caroline, but there it is."
"You misunderstood me," Caroline replied. "I did find meeting Jane to my liking, but the rest of the gathering. . . . I am afraid, Charles, that we have nothing in common with them."
"Give them time, Caroline," Mr. Bingley pleaded. "I am sure that underneath their country manners and dress, you will see that they are fine people."
JANE LAY IN HER BED, unable to sleep. She remembered every glance, every smile, every blush, every word he had spoken to her, every touch of his hand as they danced together. She began to blush again in the darkness of her bed chamber when she thought of the times that their hands had touched. It being a country assembly, she had worn no gloves, and had been glad for it. His hand had been warm, his touch gentle, even as she could feel the strength of his fingers.
She tried to calm her pounding heart, but she could not keep her thoughts from him. She had never felt such feelings before. Never even known that such feelings could be felt. Stronger even than the feeling from the touch of his hand, was the feeling that overtook her when their eyes met. She knew that he felt the same. She could see it. She closed her eyes to bring up the vision of his eyes.
She could not help herself. She was not normally given to such fantasy. Mrs. Bingley. Mrs. Jane Bingley, wife of Mr. Charles Bingley. She hugged her pillow close, wondering what she would feel when he put his arms around her for the first time. She caressed her stomach, thinking about the children she would bear him.
LIZZY SMILED AT THE memory of her sister and Mr. Bingley. She had never believed in love at first sight, but now she knew she must allow for it. She had seen the instant connection that they had made with their eyes when Mr. Bingley had first come into the assembly rooms. It had been like a thunderbolt. She had seen the powerful reactions that they had to each other. Even before they had been introduced, they had had eyes only for each other.
"If only," she sighed in remembrance of their looks, "if only there were such a man for me. A man who would look at me in such a way. A man who would not care that I was just a country girl with a mere fifty pounds a year."
THE LAST GUESTS HAD left Rosings Park and Lady Catherine deBourg sat before her dressing table thinking about the suspicions she had formed after watching Lord Caverstock and her daughter, Anne. She had never seen a man look at Anne that way. She had never expected to.
"That man is only interested in Anne for her position in society, her money, I am sure," she said to her reflection. "This is unacceptable. It will not do. I will not allow him to court her. She is for Darcy. My sister and I planned it while she was still in her cradle. It is my fondest wish, as it was his mother's."
She took out a sheet of paper and began a letter to her nephew, ordering him to visit on matters of the utmost importance. She wrote rapidly, needing no pause for reflection. She knew what she wanted to say and she said it. She finished and reread it with satisfaction. It was a short letter by her standards, covering only three sheets of paper front and back, but she did not wish to take the time to give her usual advise on the management of Pemberley. No, she needed to summon him immediately.
JEFFREY WALLACE, EARL OF CAVERSTOCK gazed out of his bed chamber window into the darkness.
Lord Caverstock had never expected, nor desired, to be elevated to his current position as Earl. He had been a younger son. A third son. He had idolized his oldest brother, the heir, Edmund.
His relationship with the spare, Robert, had been complicated. Robert had been resentful and jealous of Edmund and it made him angry to see Jeffrey follow Edmund around. Robert had taken out much of his bitterness on the smaller boy. When Edmund had died without an heir, Jeffrey had sincerely hoped, even in his grief, that Robert would find happiness in the position that he had always coveted. Robert's bad habits, unfortunately, had already become fixed and his elevation to Earl had only given him more money and more opportunity in his quest for self-destruction. He had not lived two years past his brother's early death.
Therein lay Lord Caverstock's problem. Or at least the largest one of them. Two brothers dead in less than two years time. Should something happen to him, there was no spare left. If he did not marry and produce an heir, the title and estates would pass out of his immediate family and to a distant cousin upon his death. While Lord Caverstock had no immediate plans to die, his mother was frantic that he would. And soon. Where would that leave her? She would be the dowager Countess, but she knew that her position as the distant relative of the Earl would not be anything so great as the grandmother of the Earl.
Lord Caverstock had tried to find a wife. He really had. He had done his best. He left the army at his mother's request. He had attended balls, musical evenings, the opera, card parties, any and every place that his mother had insisted upon. What really bothered him was this: When he had been the third son, with only a military career before him, no one had paid much attention to him, unless it was as a means of being introduced to one of his older brothers. Suddenly, as Earl, he was the toast of the town. The same women that had ignored him, or women just like them, flattered him and pushed their daughters at him, each hoping that he would pick her daughter to marry. The daughters, many of them, were just as bad. Treating him as if he were the most wonderful man to ever grace their presence.
He knew better. He had spent enough time in the army and was talented enough to have made the rank of major by the time he was thirty, to know that their flattery empty of meaning. Flattery that he found distasteful. He was sure that there were worthy young women taking part in the season, but he had lost his taste for it and retired to the family seat in Kent. He had given up all thought of young women until he had seen Anne.
The first time he had seen her, riding in her open gig with her companion, he had hardly noticed her. He had tipped his hat in polite greeting and ridden on, aware only of a pale, thin girl accompanied by a middle aged lady. The next time that they had passed, he noticed a smile. A fleeting smile, a embarrassed look. He could not bring her face to his mind, just her smile. Each time he saw her, she smiled. Only that. Just smiled. She did not try to flatter him or agree with him. She just smiled at him, as one human being would smile at another. She was pale, thin, and had not much beauty to recommend her. Nothing but her shy, embarrassed little smile. For several weeks he had not even known her name.
His mother had not been eager to accept the invitation from Lady Catherine for dinner. It was more like a command and Lady Rebecca did not like being commanded. Especially by someone lower in rank. Lord Caverstock, however, was eager, much to his mother's surprise. He had insisted. And now they had spoken.
MR. DARCY TURNED AGAIN, becoming tangled in the bed linens. He sighed and rose, putting on his warm wollen robe and his slippers. He lit a candle and decided to walk through the house, an activity that he had resorted to frequently over the last month.
Trying to take his mind off of his own problems, he thought back to his friend's letter, or what passed as a letter. Really more of a note. Short. Written rapidly. Full of crossed out words and blots.
"He seems happy enough," Mr. Darcy thought. "Something about meeting an angel. I hope he knows what he is about." Mr. Darcy pulled himself up short. "Bingley will just have to take care of himself. My concern must be Georgiana."
Chapter 4
THE NEXT FEW WEEKS were busy ones in Hertfordshire. There were no less than three dinner parties, one musical evening, and two tea parties. Mr. Bingley and his family attended all of them, as did the Bennet family. At each gathering, Mr. Bingley sought out Jane at the earliest possible moment and stayed at her side until forced by propriety to part from her.
Although there had been no formal request, it was obvious to all that it was only a matter of time before Mr. Bingley proposed marriage to Jane. Mrs. Bennet was happy. Mr. Bennet was happy. Lizzy was happy. Mary, Kitty and Lydia were happy. Their neighbors were happy. Even Mr. Hurst was happy. Everyone was happy for the young couple with the exception of Mr. Bingley's sisters. They were irate. They had planned on their brother marrying someone much more elevated in society. Someone like Georgiana Darcy. Someone who would raise their status and remove the taint of trade from their names forever. Someone who would connect them more closely to Mr. Darcy, increasing the likelihood that Mr. Darcy would marry Caroline.
There had been several days of rain followed by a day of warm, sunny weather. Lizzy, who had grown restive being confined to the house, took advantage of the break to escape on one of her rambles through the countryside. She left directly after breakfast and wandered for several hours, feeling refreshed after the forced inactivity. She was approaching Longbourn from a path through the wilderness when she saw the carriage. Mr. Bingley's carriage.
She knew at once that he must have brought his sisters with him. There was no other reason on such a fine day. He had told her how much he preferred riding his horse to riding in a carriage. They had shared a smile when he told her the reason. It took him less time to get to Longbourn and be by Jane's side.
She stopped where she was, still out of sight of the house. She looked down at her skirts and shoes. Covered with mud. It was not an unusual event at Longbourn, but she knew that the superior sisters would take note of her appearance and draw it to everyone's attention. She hated that! They were so snide! Cruel, really. She hated their behavior for the embarrassment to herself, but even more, she hated it because it embarrassed both Jane and Mr. Bingley.
While she tried to calculate the chance of crossing the lawns and entering the house unobserved, she heard voices. ". . . so unsuitable. Did you hear what she said? To think that she will be part of our family. It is intolerable, but I cannot think of what is to be done about it."
"Nor I, Caroline, nor I. If only Mr. Darcy were here. He would know how to prevent this travesty."
Lizzy held her breath and slipped silently back, further into the protection of the shrubbery. She knew it was unladylike and rude to listen to a conversation that she was not a part of, but what she had already heard erased any thoughts of propriety she may have had. She knew it was of the most vital import for her to know the enemy.
"Oooh," Caroline muttered angrily, "how is this to be born? Mr. Darcy could, indeed, make Charles see reason where it comes to Jane Bennet. He would be able to show Charles just how inferior her connections are, how unseemly her family's behavior is. He would see in a moment that Jane is but a fortune hunter. He has saved Charles from his own folly in the past. If only he were here, he could do it again. It is most unfortunate that I am not formally engaged to him. If I were, I would be able to write to him and tell him everything that is happening."
"Of course, Caroline, that is it!" Louisa said with excitement in her voice. "You must write to Mr. Darcy. Even though you are not formally engaged, we both know that it is but a matter of time before you are. He will not think it unseemly for you to write to him, given the circumstances. When he realizes just how dire the situation is, he will come at once. I am sure of it."
"You are right, Louisa. I will write to him. We are as good as engaged, are we not? He would expect me to inform him of the situation. Come, let us return to the house before one of Jane's pathetic sisters comes to search for us."
Lizzy listened to the sisters' voices grew fainter as they walked back to the house. She waited a few more minutes before leaving her hiding place and returning to the house. She no longer cared what anyone thought of the state of her clothing. She walked along, making no effort to hide, ensuring, of course, that she entered Longbourn undetected.
"Miss Bingley!" she fumed as she stomped up the stairs to her bed chamber. "Mr. Darcy! So they have interfered with Mr. Bingley's business in the past. Well they will not interfere this time. I will not allow it."
CAROLINE CHOSE HER WORDS with care as she sat at the writing table, pen and paper before her. "Mr. Darcy must understand the gravity of the situation," she said to herself.
"He must save Charles," she whispered to herself. "He must marry me."
She sat back when she was finished and read the words that she had written. She was satisfied that when Mr. Darcy was given the facts of the situation, he would rush to her side. He would know she was his best ally. He would propose marriage.
"A MAN IS NOTHING IF HE is not in a red uniform," Lydia opined when she had first learned that Colonel Forster's Regiment was to spend the winter in Meryton. Lydia, Kitty and Mrs. Bennet, along with many of the other women in the neighborhood, were in raptures about the prospect of a town full of officers. First Mr. Bingley and now the officers. Only a few short weeks ago Mrs. Bennet had despaired of ever finding husbands for her daughters. Now there were prospects for all of them. So many officers for her to choose from.
And they did add much to the neighborhood. At last there was a sufficient number of agreeable partners for dancing and cards. The whole neighborhood was livelier.
ONCE SHE HAD TAKEN care of the matter of Mr. Darcy marrying her Anne, Lady Catherine turned her attention to the matter of her clergyman. He was perfect in everyway. Everyway but one. It was a small matter really, but Lady Catherine always paid attention to details. She had deliberately waited to tend to this matter until she was sure that he would suit in all other ways.
And he was perfect. He was a master of flattery. He made a study of always knowing what to say and when to say it. Lady Catherine suspected that he sometimes practiced his flattery before a mirror. He was grateful and obedient. He always agreed with her. He always took her advice to heart. Yes, he was perfect. Almost perfect.
Mr. Collins needed a wife. "A clergyman," Lady Catherine decided, "should set an example of domestic felicity to those in his parish." Yes, Mr. Collins needed a wife.
"Mr. Collins," she told him, "you must marry." She went on to list all of her requirements for his wife, then added. "You have said that your relative, the one from whom you will inherit your estate, has a family of five daughters. It is unfortunate that the estate was entailed away from the female line. Females are perfectly capable of managing money and property. After all, you see how well I manage. Go to your relative. Marry one of his daughters."
She really did think it positively dreadful that estates be entailed away from their rightful owners, just because the rightful owner should happen to be a woman. She shuddered to think what would have happened to her if the estate of her husband, Sir Louis deBourg, had had an entail on it. She would have been left dependant on a relative. A male relative.
MR. DARCY SAT THOUGHTFULLY after reading the letter from his aunt, Lady Catherine. It had been more a summons than a letter and had left him in no doubt as to her wishes. He was to marry his cousin, Anne. Soon! It was her favorite wish, as well as that of his own mother's. He remembered his mother speaking of her wish. He had, at times, even considered that wish.
He had found the process of picking a wife during the balls and parties of the season disheartening. Oh, the first season he had attended and even the second had held charms. Rather shy, he had quickly discovered that he was not required to lead the conversation. There were rules to speaking at social gatherings. Comforting rules. Boring rules. Boring conversations. Lovely, but boring young women. By the third season, he had given up on finding a woman who could satisfy his yearning.
When his search for love had come to naught, when he realized that he would not find his happiness at a ball or a dinner party, he had given serious thought to his mother's wishes. At the time, Anne was still too young. Now, he knew that Anne was unsuitable. If he married Anne, he would have two shy, inexperienced young women to care for. That would never do.
His depression deepened as he thought of the battle ahead. Lady Catherine would not take his rejection of her wishes quietly. But he was resolved. He would reject her demands. Later. He would deal with it later. He shoved his aunt's letter to the back of the desk drawer.
LORD CAVERSTOCK WAS RELIEVED. It had been six days since he had seen her. Six days when first unavoidable business, and then the weather, had kept them apart. He had worried after the dinner party at Rosings Park. Her mother had made it very clear to him by her manner that she did not approve of his attentions to Anne. He sighed. Anne, on the other hand, had seemed to enjoy his attentions very much. She had smiled at him and they had spoken for the first time. Nothing much. He had asked her about her rides through the countryside and she had, in return, asked about his. He had seen her interest in his conversation. Real interest. And he had been interested in her conversation. It mattered not what she had said. It was her sincerity, her interest.
"But today I have seen her," he thought. "We spoke." Remembering her smiles and her blushes warmed his heart. For the first time since his brother Edmund had died, he felt happy. For the first time since he had inherited the title of Earl, he began to think that he could please both his mother and himself. For the first time, he was glad that he was titled.
Chapter 5
Mr. Darcy sighed. "Oh, Bingley, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" Mr. Darcy knew Caroline to be an astute observer. He trusted her judgement, especially where it concerned her own brother. He thought about that concern. That readiness to help guide Bingley. She was strong. Perhaps he should think about her in regard to his own problem.
He placed a fresh piece of paper in front of him and filled his pen from the bottle of ink. He sat poised, trying to come up with the right words to caution his friend with. Nothing came. He put the pen down and stood up to look out the window.
He thought about Georgiana. She was better, especially since her new companion had come. Mrs. Annesley. What a treasure Mrs. Annesley had proved to be! It helped to have her to guide Georgiana. Not as much as a mother or a sister would, but still, she helped.
After watching the ripples on the lake caused by the stiff breeze, he crossed back to his desk and sat down. He pulled his aunt's letter from the back of the drawer where he had shoved it and set about answering both letters. They both were answered in the same manner. He was sorry, but his business at Pemberley was not completed and until it was, he was unable to think about leaving.
CAROLINE WAITED UNTIL THE gentlemen had left the breakfast room to prepare for their morning of hunting. She turned to her sister as the door latched shut.
"I have an idea, Louisa," she said. "A way to gather information about the Bennets, so that when Mr. Darcy comes, we will be able to cite him chapter and verse all the evils of the match between Charles and Miss Goody-goody Jane."
"Go on," Louisa said as she poured herself another cup of tea at the side board.
"Charles and Mr. Hurst are dining with the officers tonight," Caroline began.
"Yes, and . . . what?" Louisa asked.
"Yes, well, we shall invite the Devine Miss Jane to dine with us," Caroline continued.
"And we pump her for information," Louisa finished. "Very good, Caroline."
"The little ninny is so artless. I am sure that she will answer any questions we put forth. We will know any and every unfortunate connection that she possesses. We will know every frightening detail of her life."
"Very, very good, Caroline," Louisa laughed. "Indeed, it is an excellent plan."
"YOU HAVE BEEN INVITED TO dine at Netherfield this evening, Jane," Mrs. Bennet squealed as she snatched the note Jane had received from Caroline out of her hand. "La-de-dah, la-de-dah, la-de-dah . . . . as the gentlemen are to dine with the officers. Oh, that is unfortunate! But you must go and make of it what you can."
Jane turned to her father to ask for the carriage, but before he could answer, Mrs. Bennet interrupted.
"You must go on Nellie for it looks like rain and they will have to ask you to stay the night," she said.
"Mother," Jane gasped.
"Well, would you go all the way to Netherfield and not see Mr. Bingley? Indeed, you will not."
Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes, but chose not to interfere. In truth, he was very fond of Mr. Bingley and hoped that there would soon be an engagement to announce. It was not the fact that Mr. Bingley had money, well not entirely. No, Mr. Bingley and Jane seemed to truly be in love with each other. Besides, he reasoned that a little rain never had killed anyone. He rolled his eyes and excused himself to go read in his library.
LORD CAVERSTOCK LOOKED FORWARD TO seeing Anne that evening. Lady Medcalf was having a dinner party and had assured his mother that Lady Catherine had accepted the invitation. He sighed. He knew his mother would have preferred him to marry someone with a more pleasant mother.
It could not be helped. Lord Caverstock had not intended to fall in love with Anne deBourg, but he had. Every time he saw her, his feelings grew. He lived each day for the few moments that he saw her out on the lanes surrounding Rosings Park.
Mrs. Jenkinson. He had worried that she would inform Lady Catherine about their meetings and the meetings would stop. Each time he saw her after their introduction at Rosings Park, he worried there would not be another. He now knew that Mrs. Jenkinson's allegience was to the daughter and not the mother. The previous day the weather had been fine and the ground dry. Mrs. Jenkinson had stopped in a secluded part of the drive. Anne was standing next to the gig when he rode up. As if in a dream, he dismounted and greeted her. She had told him she felt the need to stretch her legs so he offered his arm to her and they took a walk. It was short. Too short! Too little time to begin to say what he wanted to say to Anne. Mrs. Jenkinson had smiled kindly at them when they returned to the gig. A friend and ally.
He closed his eyes and thought of Anne. Anne. He never would have looked her way had he met her at a ball or a party. No, he would not have noticed her among all the other young ladies. He had not really noticed her the first time they passed in the lane. She was pale and thin and shy. Very shy. He shuddered to think of what he might have missed.
LIZZY WAS SUSPICIOUS OF Caroline and Louisa's motives for inviting Jane to Netherfield. Lizzy was worried. She tried to warn Jane about her suspicions and what she had overheard, but Jane was sure that there was an innocent explanation to their words.
"You must have heard them wrong, or misunderstood what they were saying," Jane said when Lizzy tried to warn her. "I cannot believe that their manners could hide such meanness. I am sure that when you get to know them better, you will like them."
"Jane, you are too good," Lizzy replied. "You are truly angelic. You will not believe anything ill about anybody. All I ask is that you take care."
"I promise you, Lizzy, that I will take care and all will be well."
Lizzy looked at her sister and sighed. She was frustrated. On one hand was their mother, whom Lizzy was sure would do anything in her power to push forward a match between Jane and Mr. Bingley. On the other hand were Mr. Bingley's sisters, whom Lizzy knew to be insincere harpies looking for a wedge to drive between the two. In the middle was Jane. Lovely, unsuspecting Jane. Beautiful Jane! Everyone thought that they could manipulate her for their own purposes. And there was nothing Lizzy could think of to do that would protect Jane. Sometimes Lizzy wished that Jane was not quite so good.
"Lizzy, do not look at me like that!" Jane cried, when she saw the look on Lizzy's face. "I will take care."
Lizzy wished she could believe it.
Chapter 6
CAROLINE WAS READY TO scream. All of her carefully laid plans had gone awry. Well, most of them anyway. The smells emanating from the kitchen when she had gone to tell Mrs. Willits, the housekeeper, that the gentlemen would be dining in that evening instead of with the officers, well, quite frankly, the smells were delectable. The food would be wonderful. Everything else was spinning out of control.
The first inkling that something might go wrong was the message that Charles received from Colonel Forster. Caroline knew of the note because she happened to look out the window of her bed chamber and had seen the red coat of the young soldier who had delivered the note as he was riding away. Hurring downstairs to investigate, she found Charles in the library reading.
"Charles," Caroline demanded, "what was that soldier doing here?"
"It seems that the dinner with the officers must be postponed," Charles answered.
"Postponed? But why?" Caroline responded. "Oh, this is most inconvenient." Had she any warning about the news, she might have answered more calmly.
"It seems that the colonel and several of the other officers have been stricken with some kind of ailment." Mr. Bingley paused and looked closely at his sister. "But tell me Caroline, why is it most inconvenient? Do you have plans?"
Caroline hesitated before speaking. "Louisa and I have invited a guest for dinner. It was to be a small affair so that we could really get to know her."
Mr. Bingley was pleased. "Oh, Caroline, I am glad you are making friends here in Hertfordshire. I promise you, Hurst and I will behave and not embarrass you too much. Who is this friend that is coming?"
Caroline was trapped and she knew it. It was too late to rescind the invitation. The hour was already too advanced and in any case, she knew her brother would not be satisfied until she told him the identity of the guest. She was trapped. She had made things worse than they already were. An intimate family dinner with only one guest.
"Miss Jane Bennet," Caroline said, trying desperately to hide her true feelings.
"Caroline, you are a wonderful sister," Charles cried with happiness. "You are trying to get to know Miss Bennet better for my sake. How could I have ever doubted you? I should have known that once you were used to this neighborhood you would grow to love it as much as I do."
"And now Miss Jane the Perfect Angel sits in the drawing room on a chair placed before the fireplace," Caroline thought with fury. "Not too near and not too far." She was disgusted with Charles solicitude. "He is acting as if she were a delicate hothouse flower instead of hardy country weed. She got a little wet on her ride from Longbourn to Netherfield. That happens when you ride a horse in the rain, stupid girl! What was she thinking?!"
Caroline narrowed her eyes as she looked across the room at them. She was displeased. Yes, seriously displeased. The relative privacy that they sat in was not to be born. Even with great effort, she could not hear what they were speaking of. She stood and walked toward them.
"Jane," she said with as much charm as she could muster, "I do hope you are feeling warmer."
"Thank-you, Caroline," Jane replied. "Yes, I am feeling quite comfortable. Please, do not delay dinner any longer on my account."
Charles beamed at Jane.
"I am most relieved to hear that you have recovered," Caroline said. "I shall just go let them know we are ready to proceed."
Forced to leave them alone again, Caroline seethed as she waited for Focett to respond to her ring. "I am displeased. Seriously displeased!" she muttered to herself.
LORD CAVERSTOCK WATCHED as Lady Catherine dominated the conversation. It amused him to watch her clergyman agree with and flatter her. Without thinking, he began to smile.
"What are you smiling about, my Lord?" Lady Catherine demanded sharply.
"I am so pleased to be in such superior society, Lady Catherine," he replied smoothly. "I spent the last nine years in the army and I do not think I ever heard so many sound ideas from one person in all that time. Such superiority of mind, such elegance of manners. Your Ladyship is the perfect embodiment of what I fought to protect all these years."
He could tell that she was pleased by his flattery. He felt clever. He was clever! She wanted to feel superior. She wanted to feel intelligent. She wanted to be flattered.
He snuck a look at Anne when Lady Catherine was busy telling Mr. Collins how to conduct services properly the next Sunday. The look on her face was priceless. From her smile he knew she could tell exactly what he was about. They almost began to laugh. It was almost as if they could read each other's thoughts. Had Lady Catherine seen their exchange she would have become irate. She would have known for sure. Fortunately, Mr. Collins was in great need of instruction.
Mrs. Jenkinson looked on with happiness. "Little Anne," she thought with love for her young charge. Mrs. Jenkinson stayed with Anne, put up with all of Lady Catherine's rages and opinions for Anne. She loved Anne like the daughter she had never had.
MR. COLLINS HAD GOOD NEWS for Lady Catherine that evening. "I took your most excellent advice," Mr. Collins said. "I wrote to my cousin, Mr. Bennet and I have just received a reply. I am to go to Hertfordshire Monday next. As you most condesendingly suggested, Your Ladyship, I contacted Mr. Shipps and he has graciously agreed to tend to my duties while I am away. You will be gratified to know that he was most pleased when I had mentioned your kind recommendation of him. He looks forward to the opportunity to be of service to you."
A wife. The idea both excited and frightened Mr. Collins. He had had little experience with proper young women. Through one of his acquaintances who was a curate in Hertfordshire, he had been able to ascertain that his cousin, Mr. Daniel Bennet, was father to five fine girls. His acquaintance, Mr. Osborne, had even met them and had pronounced them to be quite charming and beautiful. His cousins, charming and beautiful. Well mannered, too, Mr. Osborne had written. He could not believe his luck. To have his pick of five beautiful, well-mannered, charming girls. It set his blood to racing. What other clergyman of his acquaintance could boast such a thing?
He could hear their gratitude. He could see them vying for his attention. He felt almost faint with anticipation. He wondered how long an engagement would be proper. Not too long, he hoped. It was sad that he had to make a choice. Sad that he was limited to only one wife. The other four would be disappointed, but it could not be helped.
He felt his luck. He was priviledged to be the clergyman of such an illustrious personage as Lady Catherine, who in her infinite wisdom, had suggested the fine plan of choosing one of his beautiful cousins to marry.
Chapter
Please do not post. Thanks to everyone who has given me encouragement and feed-back. It really helps. I woke this morning with a nasty cold and am feeling rotten, but my three days are up and I did not wish anyone to think that I shunned them. Although I already had this written, I usually do a final edit right before I post. If any glaring errors sneak through today, I will gladly use the excuse of my cold.
LADY CATHERINE WAS SERIOUSLY displeased. Oh, the dinner party the evening before had gone well. Far better than she had imagined when she arrived and discovered Lord Caverstock there. His most proper and gratifying behavior towards her had made her forget her chagrin at him for smiling at Anne. She learned that she was wrong. Lord Caverstock was not a threat. He was a gentleman who respected her opinions. A gentleman who would know better than to think of Anne when Anne was promised to another. But perhaps, just perhaps, she could use the threat of Lord Caverstock's interest in Anne to bring Mr. Darcy to his senses.
"No," Lady Catherine vowed, "I will not let Lord Caverstock's smile go to waste."
Lady Catherine was seriously displeased with Mr. Darcy. Yes, seriously displeased with the letter she had received from Pemberley the morning following Lady Medcalf's dinner party. The letter from her nephew, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, Master of Pemberley. Mr. Darcy, who was to marry her Anne. Mr. Darcy, who said in his letter that he had something more important to tend to than his obligation to Anne. Something more important than his destiny. How dare he deny her?
She proceeded to write him another letter. One in which she spelled out explicitly what she expected of him. She told him about Lord Caverstock and the danger to Anne. She told him the way she had caught Lord Caverstock looking at Anne when they were together. She told him the way that Anne had looked back at Lord Caverstock and smiled. He had smiled. Lady Catherine told him of her fear. It could not be born! It would not be born!
She re-read the letter when she was through. She smiled. She smiled and was satisfied.
"Yes," she told herself smugly, "let my nephew think that there is danger to his mother's dearest wishes. He cannot deny his own mother's dying wish."
JANE WOKE EARLY, DESPITE the difficulty she had experienced sleeping under the same roof with Mr. Bingley. Every time she had tried to sleep her imagination had begun to run wild. She could not help herself. He had been so kind, so concerned about her health. He had fussed that she had gotten wet as she rode Nellie in the rain.
"Just a drizzle really," she had assured him. "A little rain never hurt anyone." She had really only gotten damp. Only a little damp. But still he had worried.
"Miss Bennet, I cannot think what I would do if something happened to you." He had looked at her with so much love, so much passion that he had taken her breath away and set her heart to racing.
All night long, every time she tried to make herself sleep, the vision of his face as he said those words came back to her. She had tossed. She had turned. She had hugged her pillow and pretended that the pillow was Charles. She had whispered his name. Charles. Charles. Charles.
She rang for a maid to help her dress for the day and when she was finished, descended to the breakfast room only to discover that she was so early that food had yet to be set out on the side board.
"Excuse me Miss," one of the footman said as she entered the room. "If you wish, I shall fetch tea and toast for you."
"Thank-you, that would be lovely," Jane replied with a sweet smile gracing her face. The servant looked at her with surprise. He was not used to the ladies of the house speaking so kindly or treating him like a real person. He bowed and went to get her food.
She stood, looking out of the window at the mist rising where the morning sun hit the grass wet by the previous evening's rain. She turned in hopeful expectation as she heard foot steps clattering down the stairway.
"Good morning, Miss Bennet," Mr. Bingley cried with delight as he entered the room and saw her standing there. "I hope you slept well."
Jane blushed. "Good morning, Mr. Bingley. I am feeling completely rested this morning, thank-you."
"We are the early birds," he said as he noticed the lack of food.
"Your footman is bringing tea and toast."
Mr. Bingley smiled at Jane, thankful for their solitude, thankful that his sisters and brother-in-law would not make their presence known for an hour or more. Taking a deep breath, he began.
"Capitol, capitol. Miss Bennet, perhaps this is not the best time or place, but . . I . . ah . . . Miss Bennet . . ah . . Jane, I can . . ah . um . go no longer without confessing my feelings to you. From the first time I saw you, even before we met, I believed you to be an angel. Since we have become acquainted, I have had to change my opinion. You are still an angel, but now I have come to know you as a woman. A beautiful, kind, lovely woman. Jane, I cannot imagine my future without you by my side. It would be the greatest honor, I would feel the richest man in the world, if you would agree to be my wife. Jane, will you marry me?"
Jane was rendered speechless. It was her fondest wish to hear his proposal and she was so moved by his words, by the love he expressed that she herself had lost the capacity of speech. Mr. Bingley would have felt alarm were it not for her smile He had taken hold of her hands and she clung to him. After several long moments, she managed to whisper her answer.
"Yes!"
He saw her lips move and her head nod slightly.
"Yes!" she whispered again.
"Yes!" she said louder and would have answered again and again had not Mr. Bingley embraced her and lowered his lips to brush hers lightly.
The footman opened the door, saw Jane and Mr. Bingley embracing and quickly closed the door again. He sat the tray on the table next to the door and stood guard. He smiled. "Lovely young woman, the next Mrs. Bingley," he though. "Very polite. It will be a different sort of household. Much calmer and happier."
CAROLINE WAS LIVID, BUT after her initial shock she carefully schooled her expression to show only pleasure at the idea of Jane as her new sister.
"It is no more than I was expecting," she though angrily, an insincere smile pasted to her face. "It just came sooner than I had thought. There must be something that Mr. Darcy can do to get Charles to face the reality of his situation and help him get out of it. He has helped him out of dire situations before. He must do something!"
Her smile lasted only until the carriage door closed on Jane to take her back to Longbourn. She watched as Charles stood waving at Jane until the carriage passed out of view. Charles, instead of returning to the house as she expected him to, walked quickly in the direction of the stables.
"I suppose," she sighed with frustration, "he will follow her to Longbourn and ask that fool father of hers for her hand."
She hurried up the stairs to her bedchamber and went directly to her writing table. She reached for writing paper and began writing quickly.
"There," she said to herself after she had finished. "Mr. Darcy cannot fail to understand the emergency that has occurred her today. Surely he will come as soon as may be."
"SHE LAUGHED. SHE ACTUALLY LAUGHED," Mr. Darcy said to Mrs. Annesley as they watched Georgiana with Minnie, his half-grown hound.
It was the first time since Ramsgate that Georgiana had played like the child she still was. She threw a stick for Minnie and Minnie had returned it, but refused to let go of it. The two then had a tug of war, neither side willing to let go, or so Georgiana had thought. Suddenly Minnie let go of the stick just as Georgiana had dug her heels in, ready to pull with all her might. Georgiana went head-over-heels backwards and Minnie pounced on her and began licking her face.
"She will be well," Mrs. Annesley said kindly. "Everyday she gets a little stronger. Everyday her pain recedes a little more. Her progress is slow, but it is steady. She will recover."
Mr. Darcy watched as she continued to play. "I will do whatever it takes to ensure that she will recover," he told himself. "Anything."
Chapter 8
MRS. BENNET WAS MOST UPSET to see Jane transported home in Mr. Bingley's carriage so soon.
"You should have stayed longer, Jane," she insisted as soon as Jane was in the house. "Why, we have been finished with breakfast for less than an hour. Surely you could have thought of some excuse to stay."
"Mama, I was invited to dine yesterday evening, not to stay the night," Jane replied. "It was very kind of Miss Bingley to invite me to stay. I felt it only right that I return home at the earliest opportunity this morning. I could easily have returned last evening."
"Yes, Jane, but how are you to get Mr. Bingley to propose marriage to you if you do not take advantage of the opportunity presented to you. You should have thought of some reason to stay." Mrs. Bennet paused while she pondered the situation. "Why, you could have taken a chill. I am sure you must have been soaked through to the skin by the time you arrived. Were you not?"
"No, Mama, I was damp, but not soaked to the skin," Jane countered, fighting to hide the smiles that threatened to split her face. "I do admit that I was cold when I arrived, but Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst found dry clothes for me and a short while in front of a fire had me feeling as good as new."
Mrs. Bennet would have continued to scold Jane had not Mr. Bingley arrived to speak to Mr. Bennet. His arrival changed everything. He was shown into the library directly. Mrs. Bennet knew at once what that must mean. She was in raptures. She was thrilled. Everything was just has she had planned it. She knew that Jane had not been born so beautiful for nothing! Jane was very definitely her favorite daughter. It had always been so. How could it be doubted?
MR. BENNET WAS ENJOYING himself immensely. He had known that Mr. Bingley's visit was coming. He had been expecting it, especially after Jane had been manipulated by her mother into spending the night at Netherfield. He had never seen a young man so visibly in love. And there stood Mr. Bingley in his own library. His retreat from the world. The one place where he was king. Mr. Bennet looked thoughtfully across his desk to where the younger man stood shifting slightly from one foot to the other.
"Please, Mr. Bingley, take a seat," Mr. Bennet offered. He had momentarily had the desire to tease the young man, but thought better of it.
"Thank-you, Sir, thank-you," Mr. Bingley said as he lowered himself into a chair. "I . . I um . . Mr. Bennet . ."
"May I offer you some refreshment? A cup of tea perhaps? A little brandy?" Mr. Bennet said kindly.
"No, I need to say something, or rather ask something of you first," Mr. Bingley blurted out.
"Ask something of me?" Mr. Bennet replied.
Mr. Bingley sat up straight in the chair, drew in a deep breath and began. "Yes, Sir, I need to ask something of you. I need to ask . . . ask, um, ask for your daughter's hand in marriage. Your daughter Jane, that is, I wish to marry Jane. There I have said it."
"I take it that she is aware of your wishes?" Mr. Bennet asked.
"Oh, yes, I asked her this morning and she very much wishes to be my wife." Mr. Bingley smiled widely at the remembrance of her acceptance and their embraces following it.
"Very good, Mr. Bingley," Mr. Bennet said seriously. "There is only one thing more that I wish to know. What took you so long?"
Mr. Bingley, unused to Mr. Bennet's sense of humor, was taken aback by the question. "What took me so long, Sir? Why I have been in Hertfordshire little more than a month. I did not think that you would approve of my asking you any sooner."
Mr. Bennet laughed. "You are probably correct. I just might have said no. You did wish to ask, however, did you not?"
"Oh, yes, I did wish to ask," Mr. Bingley replied, laughing. "Ah, do I take it then that we have your approval?"
"Did I forget to say yes?" Mr. Bennet asked as he watched Mr. Bingley nod his head. "Yes, you have my approval. You are a lucky man to have won the love of my Jane. She shall make you very happy, I dare say, and I trust that you are prepared to do all in your power to make her happy."
LIZZY BREATHED A SIGH of relief when she realized what her father had just announced to the gathered family.
"Mr. Bingley has acted in a manner which will ensure his own happiness," she thought with glee as she watched her mother gush and her sister blush. "His sister and Mr. Darcy too late. They are too late. Jane shall have her happiness."
MR. COLLINS HUMMED AN off-key tune as he packed his trunks in preparation for his trip into Hertfordshire to find a wife. He glanced over at his bed. He shook his head to remind himself that such thoughts as popped into his head were unseemly for a clergyman of his standing.
"Lady Catherine would not approve such thoughts," he muttered aloud. "No, indeed she would not. Better not to have such thoughts."
He glanced at the bed again and sighed. He decided that there were some thoughts that he would try to keep secret from Lady Catherine, although he knew that it would be a difficult task. Lady Catherine was wise and all-knowing. She had only his best interests at heart. Better to try really hard not to have such thoughts. He sighed again after sneaking a look at the bed.
"Perhaps she will not ask," he said hopefully. "No, she probably will not ask."
He looked at his overflowing trunk, trying to determine how he was going to close it and if he had packed it properly according to Lady Catherine's instructions. He was certain that she would ask about that. He decided that it might be a good thing to take the top layer off just to be sure everything was packed properly. Then he folded over another layer so that he could inspect the layer below that. He saw his night shirt and looked at the bed again. He turned back to the trunk and took another layer out, then another. Soon the trunk was empty and the pile of clothing was tumbling off of the chair that he had placed it on.
He bent down to pick up the items that had fallen and began to place them in his trunk again. He took extra care to make sure that everything was placed just so. He only glanced at the bed two more times before he was finished. Well, in all truth, it had been three times, but the third glance was so quick that he decided not to count it. He closed the lid and left the room, telling his manservant, Wellbourne, that his trunk was ready to be taken down. Best to leave the place that excited such improper thoughts.
Wellborne looked at him in confusion. "I thought you were to be going in three days time, Sir," he said.
"Yes, yes, but you know Lady Catherine will ask if I have prepared myself to leave and I wish to be able to tell her yes. One can never be too prepared."
Chapter 9
MR. DARCY SAT AT HIS DESK and looked at the two letters that had arrived earlier that morning. Both had been sent by express, arriving within an hour of each other. He had read and re-read both of them: one from Kent, one from Hertfordshire.
He sighed, knowing that he would have to leave the sanctuary of Pemberley to face the lions. Or lionesses, as it were.
"First," he thought, "first I must go to Kent and settle matters with Lady Catherine before I attempt to settle my own affairs."
He had taken some comfort from his aunt's missive, although that had not been Lady Catherine's purpose. No, the purpose of her letter had been to alarm him, to make him jealous, instead it had come as a relief to know that his cousin Anne had an admirer. He truly hoped that what Lady Catherine had feared was true. It would ease his conscience if it were.
He knew that his mother had wished for a match between Anne and himself, had hoped that he would fall in love with his cousin, but it had not happened. He loved his cousin as a cousin, not as a woman. It might have been enough were it not for Georgiana's needs, but his duty to his sister must take precidence over everything else. Nothing mattered except Geogiana. Not his own desires, his mother's wishes, his aunt's wishes. Nothing.
When he was finished answering Lady Catherine's letter informing her of his plans to travel immediately to Kent, he turned his attention to the other letter.
"Miss Bingley," he thought, "Caroline".
He felt some uneasiness as he thought of the author of the letter. She was a strong woman. A woman who was trying to protect her brother from an unfortunate match. A woman who had already exhibited strong feelings of sisterhood for Georgiana. He thought back to the times that Caroline and Georgiana had met. Caroline had always been very solicitous, had shown a great deal of regard for Georgiana. Caroline never failed to ask after Georgiana's health and well-being. Here was a woman with the strength to protect Georgiana the same way she was trying to protect her own brother. That he did not love her was not the issue. He admired her strength. Perhaps someday he would grow to love her.
He knew he had let Mr. Bingley down. Let Miss Bingley, Caroline down. His own concerns had made him ignore her plea of help.
"Bingley, what have you gotten yourself into. Engaged. To someone that your sister abhors. To someone with a mother who takes great delight in counting your money. Publicly. It sounds worse than all of your other flirtations combined."
He gave himself a little shake and began to write to his friend, informing Mr. Bingley of his visit. He would go to Hertfordshire as soon as he was finished in Kent. He knew it was probably too late to interfere with the engagement that had already taken place, but he would go and assess the situation. If anything could be done, he would do it. If not, he would at least be able to forward his plans for marrying Caroline. At the very least.
He called for a footman to take his letters to the post, then found his valet and asked him to begin packing. He planned to leave the following morning.
BREAKFAST AT LONGBOURN THAT morning ended with an uproar.
Mr. Bennet had started it by saying, "I hope you have something special planned for supper this evening for we will be having a guest."
"Why I was already counting on Mr. Bingley staying to dine tonight," Mrs. Bennet replied, "just has he has every night since he and Jane became engaged."
Mr. Bennet looked at his wife with amusement. "No, it is not Mr. Bingley, my dear. It is someone that I have never set eyes on in my entire life. I have received a letter from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who will inherit Longbourn after I die. He is coming this afternoon and has plans to stay for a sennight. What do you say to that?"
"Oh, I hate the thought of that man," Mrs. Bennet cried. "Whyever did you agree to let him come stay? It is enough that he is to take possession of an estate that is not rightfully his. He probably wants to count the silver and see if he can determine how much longer you will live."
"Let me read the letter to you. You may change your mind after you hear what he has to say for himself."
Mr. Bennet read Mr. Collins's letter out to his wife and daughters. There could be no mistaking his motive for visiting them. He planned to marry one of his cousins. He felt remorse for inheriting Longbourn away from them and was willing to make amends with the offer of marriage.
Mrs. Bennet interrupted the reading of the letter. "Can it be true? Can he be planning marry one of our girls?" The man, who only moments before had been her mortal enemy, now became her dearest acquaintance. Or he would be once she had met him.
"Yes, Mrs. Bennet," Mr. Bennet assurred her, "that is what he seems to be saying in this letter." He waited while Mrs. Bennet described her happiness. After he had heard enough of her raptures, he broke in. "Pray let me continue." The remainder of the letter dealt with the time of his arrival, his length of stay, Lady Catherine's instructions for his dietary needs, excercise needs and matrimonial needs.
"But Papa," Lizzy said when he had at last finished. "Can he be a sensible man?"
"Oh, Lizzy," her father replied, choking back his laughter, "I think not. I hope not! No, I believe that he will keep us very well entertained during his stay."
LORD CAVERSTOCK LOOKED DOWN at Anne and knew that the time had come for him to speak what was in his heart. Their walks had continued every day that the weather permitted. Each day they had grown more comfortable in each other's presence. Each day they had shared their thoughts a little more freely. He had been amazed to discover that lurking beneath her shy exterior, Anne had a quick mind and a wry sense of humor. She had begun writing him quirky little poems that she delivered to him each time they parted. They were not love poems. Not even close. She was far too shy to write him love poems. But the poems were given to him as gifts and as such, gave him hope for their future, gave him the courage to think about asking her to marry him.
He drew himself up a little straighter, took a deep breath and began.
"Miss deBourgh, I . . . ah . . . .you . . . " He paused, desperately searching for the words to convey his feelings to her.
She looked up and smiled to encourage him. "Yes, my Lord?"
He stopped walking as he tried to remember the words that he had practiced earlier. The words had been perfect. Words of love and honour. He thought that he had them memorized. His memory failed him. She waited patiently.
"My, my name is Jeffrey," he managed to choke out. He was embarrassed at his inability to think or speak. He looked at her face and saw her smile.
Her smile was radiant. The most beautiful smile he had ever seen. "Jeffrey," she said softly. "My name is Anne."
"Anne, yes, . . I knew that . . what I mean is . . . " He paused, completely speechless. She waited for him to begin. And waited. And waited.
"I love you, Jeffrey," she whispered when she realized he was unable to speak. "I love you and if you ask me, I will marry you."
He stook looking at her, his mouth agape. He was stunned. Too stunned to move or think or speak. Where was the shy Anne now?
"Well?" Anne asked softly after waiting for several minutes.
"Ye..yes," he stammered.
"Yes?" she asked gently, still encouraging him.
"Yes, you love me and will marry me," he said as he caught his breath again.
"And you?" Anne asked.
He looked confused for a moment, then he realized what she had done. What she had said. "And me? You? You . . . you are my dearest, sweetest Anne. I love you! You are to be my wife."
MR. COLLINS WATCHED OUT THE WINDOW of the post chaise as the miles rolled by.
"Soon," he thought, "very soon I will see my wife."
Lady Catherine had given him all of the guidelines he needed for choosing amongst his cousins. First he must be mindful of rank. All other things being equal, he must choose the eldest. That is, if she was the most virtuous, practical, hard-working, polite, modest one of her sisters. Lady Catherine had not mentioned beauty, but Mr. Collins was confident. He had heard that all of his cousins possessed beauty. He decided that the eldest must be the most beautiful. He reasoned that it would be similar to inheriting property. It was the eldest who won out. So, he felt confident that he would soon be marrying the eldest.
He reflected on his position. Spiritual advisor to Lady Catherine deBourgh. Inheritor of Longbourn. His cousins were likely to vie for his favour. He must be careful not to let their attentions distract him from his mission. He must find a wife to please Lady Catherine.
"Was there ever so lucky a man? I am, without a doubt, the luckiest man in England," he thought. "Lady Catherine and five beautiful cousins to choose from."