Beginning, Previous Section, Section III, Next Section
Posted on Tuesday, 8 January 2008
Bingley sat at the dinner table in the London home of the Suttons, making polite conversation. On one side of him sat Miss Sutton, on the other, Miss Sutton's father. He had met Miss Sutton once or twice prior to this evening, but their acquaintance was not such that it warranted being placed in a seat of honour. His ranking for the evening, he surmised, stemmed from Caroline having said something to the family about him looking for a wife; now they were throwing their daughter at him. His already sour mood deepened at the very idea.
While Bingley had always enjoyed a good dinner party, tonight was an exception. Though the company was lacking nothing, it was the third engagement this week -- and all with people with whom he had little acquaintance.
Since he informed his sister he had no intention of returning to Netherfield, she had obtained dinner invites from all of London, all before Christmas, and all of them having at least one eligible woman. Sardonically, he thought a written announcement in the gazette would have been more subtle.
He glanced around the table again, taking in the fake smiles and feigned interest. As he did so, he caught Miss Sutton looking at him rather coquettishly, and had to suppress the urge to groan. The evening could not end soon enough!
Mr. Sutton, her father, offered little in conversation, and if it did not appear in a fashion periodical, Miss Sutton knew little to nothing, and they had already exhausted the topics of family and weather and the upcoming holiday season. Thus, having nothing to discuss, Bingley began mentally listing Miss Sutton's qualifications as a wife, hoping that perhaps he would stumble across a new discussion point.
He began with the connections a marriage to Miss Sutton could bring. For a man of his station, they would be impeccable. One sister was married to Baronet, the other was being courted by the gentleman of a well known family, and an engagement was expected once the Season began. Much like himself, Miss Sutton's brother was the youngest of the siblings; and as such, had yet to begin his education at Cambridge.
Financially, the Sutton family was only slightly better off than his, though they could boast of an estate in Sussex. They had an annual income of six thousand per year. As for Miss Sutton, she was set to inherit a small seaside manor, with a dowry of eleven thousand pounds.
As for Miss Sutton's physical qualifications, she was pretty enough, but there was nothing remarkable about her person. She had light brown eyes, which perfectly matched her hair. It was done up per the latest fashions; French curls hung about her face and ears, while the rest of it was pulled up into a feathered turban. Her skin was fair, and her high cheekbones blushed prettily when she spoke. She wore a fashionable mint green, low cut gown that did little for her complexion or her other physical attributes.
Personality wise, from what Bingley could gather from the night's conversation, she spent most of her time wandering the fashionable parts of town and doting over her lap dog. She was well mannered, soft spoken and fit Caroline's definition of an accomplished lady -- she could speak the modern languages, sew, draw, paint, and play an instrument.
A movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Miss Sutton's lap dog had taken up residence under her chair, and she had leaned down to give it a morsel from her plate.
He dabbed his lips with his napkin to keep from laughing as he noticed Miss Sutton's hair matched the fur of her dog, and wondered if that was done intentionally. Lap dogs seemed to becoming popular ever since the Marchioness of Hollingsworth brought hers to the Twelfth Night ball a few years back. He briefly wondered how soon Caroline would insist on one of her own.
He heard Miss Sutton say his name and smiled obligingly, hoping she was not waiting for a response. He had long ago lost interest in the topic of conversation and was therefore lost. When the conversation resumed, he stole another glance at the lady beside him from the corner of his eye. His shoulders sagged just a little as he realized, much like the other two women he had dined with earlier that week, she too paled in comparison to a certain golden haired, blue eyed angel in Hertfordshire.
His attention was called once again when he heard Miss Sutton address him. "Your sister tells me, Mr. Bingley, you are looking to purchase an estate."
Bingley smiled excitedly for the first time all evening, but it faded just as quickly at the remembrance of Netherfield and the memories that place held. "Yes. I had leased an estate in Hertfordshire, but found that it was in greater disrepair than originally thought."
Miss Sutton nodded and feigned compassionate smile. "I hear you travelled with Mr. Darcy."
Bingley nodded stiffly. "Yes, I did." He added, "He was in good health when I last saw him," knowing the question that followed. He hated how women never failed to bring up his friendship to Darcy when speaking with him. Was that forever to be his only value to women? Unbidden, the image of one woman, an angel to be precise, who had cared not a wit about his connection to the illustrious Mr. Darcy came to the forefront of his mind.
Before his thoughts could wander to far down that path though, Caroline interjected. "Mr. Darcy was so kind as to suffer Hertfordshire with us. I do not know how we shall ever repay him. He stayed with us for a number of weeks."
Bingley inwardly groaned at his sister's gloating. Even his own sister used him for his connection to Darcy.
Ignoring Caroline, Miss Sutton asked, "Where will you look next?"
Bingley sighed, experiencing a sense of déjà vu. He was certain he had had this conversation already tonight. Then he remembered, it was not tonight, but two days ago, with Miss Tesler. Not wanting to appear impolite, Bingley answered, "I am not..."
He was interrupted by Caroline. "Perhaps Kent, Essex, or even Derbyshire. I am certain Mr. Darcy will help my dear brother find the perfect little home up north. He is such a dear friend of ours."
Bingley watched as Miss Sutton gave Caroline a false smile, which was returned just as insincerely. Before the conversation turned unpleasant, he turned his attention back to his plate, hoping to bring an end to the conversation and the evening.
The morning after their first dinner at Longbourn, Colonel Fitzwilliam entered the breakfast room, his usual chipper self. He slapped his cousin on the shoulder before taking a plate to the sideboard. "Darcy, I know you are set on Miss Elizabeth, but I dare say you have made in error in judgment." He laughed at Darcy's scowl and continued, "Her sister, Miss Bennet, is beyond words! She is the dearest, sweetest angel I have ever beheld!"
Darcy rolled his eyes and said drolly, "Apparently she has that effect on men."
Richard quirked a brow at what his cousin's statement implied. "Certainly, she is not..."
Understanding what his cousin was about to say, Darcy shook his head. "Of course not!" he protested. "Bingley described her as an angel as well. It only took him a dance to come to that conclusion though," he added dryly.
Richard snickered. "Yes, well, I doubt she scolded him the first time they met." He grinned stupidly at the memory. After a moment, he asked, "Has uh... Bingley called off the chase, so to speak?"
"You will have to ask Bingley. He returned to London. He had intended to return with me, but business has delayed him," Darcy said, giving his cousin the story Bingley had initially told him.
"Have he and Miss Bennet reached an understanding?"
Darcy shrugged. "I have not heard that one exists."
Richard grinned broadly, baring his teeth. "Bingley was a fool to leave her!"
Darcy only rolled his eyes. "Richard, need I remind you, you are a second son, and she has no dowry."
Richard shrugged. "I would live in a shack if it meant having Miss Bennet!"
"My steward will be most pleased to hear that," Darcy rejoined.
Richard slapped his cousin on the shoulder again as he took a seat. "Not until I have won the beautiful Miss Bennet, Darcy!"
The two ate in silence for a while before Darcy asked tentatively, "Have you spoken to Colonel Forester about Wickham?"
"Must you bring him up over breakfast? You are going to ruin my appetite."
"I did not think that possible. And yes, I must, before Georgiana joins us."
The colonel's head bobbed in understanding. "Yes. I spoke with Colonel Forester, and it has been arranged. One of his lieutenants and a captain will escort Wickham to the coast, and ensure he takes up the position with the merchant ship." Darkly he added, "It would have been easier though, if you would have just let me run him through."
Darcy ignored Richard's last comment and asked, "How soon does the profligate leave?"
"Tomorrow."
Darcy nodded. "Good. I do not like restricting Georgiana's activities, particularly when she is with Elizabeth."
Richard shook his head and snickered. "And I suppose it has nothing to do with the time this ordeal has kept you from lovely fiancée?" He laughed at the glare Darcy threw him and dove back into his breakfast.
Bingley sat on the arm of the chair, staring at the table that had half the billiard balls scattered upon it. It had been three days since he had sent his missive off to Darcy, asking him to accompany him on a trip to the north. He did not expect an answer for another day or two, knowing Darcy would have to make some arrangement for Georgiana and would want to do some fact finding before agreeing to the trip.
In the meantime, he had taken care of his other business, making sure nothing would inhibit his ability to leave. He had already balanced the accounts, read all his letters, and composed responses to those that needed them. He had written all of his relations and friends, even those he had not written to in many months. He considered improving his mind through reading, but his impatient energy was not conducive to such a sedate activity. There were always the clubs, but the clock told him it was too early for Almack's, and with the mood he was in, a visit to Boodle's would result in gambling away his inheritance without realizing it. No, it was best to avoid the clubs as well.
He poured himself a glass a port and took a sip, noting the silence that enveloped him. Without the sound of balls hitting one another, the house was eerily silent; not even the activity of servants could be heard. The silence bothered him. He was used to being surrounded by conversation, laughter and music. Without it, he felt restless and lonely.
What was a man of leisure to do if he did not have a lady friend and wanted to avoid the club? He sighed and returned to contemplating the table once again.
His musings were interrupted by a knock on the door, which when opened, revealed Mr. Davish, his butler, with a missive. Bingley became excited when he noticed the Darcy seal. Perhaps Darcy is more anxious to leave Hertfordshire than I anticipated. He hastily tore open the missive.
December 7, 18--
Bingley,
You will no doubt see the announcement in the papers soon, but I wanted to assure you heard it from me first. I am to be married! Miss Elizabeth Bennet has consented to be my wife. We are to wed next spring.
Mrs. Bennet is hosting a celebratory dinner in three days time. I invite you to come, and we can discuss the business ventures you wrote of in your last missive.
Until then, I remain your indebted friend,
Darcy
Bingley stared at the letter, his mouth agape. Darcy engaged? To Miss Elizabeth? He read the note again. There was no mistake. He looked once again at the envelope, to ensure it bore the Darcy seal, thinking the note was a hoax. It was not. The seal was authentic. He stared again at the note, willing the words to change.
Slowly, the shock of the news wore off and a new emotion erupted -- one Bingley could not place his finger on, but it was not happiness. It was much darker.
Initially, he chastised himself for it. Why could he not be happy for his friend? He should be happy for him! His friend was to be wed! However, the dismal feeling continued to bubble upwards, and dark thoughts began to intrude -- his best friend was betrothed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the younger sister of his angel. His best friend was to become brother to the woman he walked away from out of familial duty. The woman Darcy had agreed was unsuitable! How could he justify such an alliance for himself, while telling Bingley it was unacceptable for him? Yes, Miss Elizabeth had a larger dowry, but it was still nothing compared to ladies of the ton. Dowry aside, for Darcy certainly did not need the money, she still had the same pitiful connections as her sister. Why were the Bennets acceptable for Darcy and not him?
A thousand curses formed in his mind against the man he considered his friend. "So much for family duty!" Bingley scoffed. He crumpled the missive and threw it in the direction of the fireplace, wanting it as far from him as possible. He would have made ash of it, had it not required greater physical exertion. Anger, and even contempt, built in his chest at his friend's audacity. "First he warns me off, and then forms his own attachment," he muttered. His mind whirled with curses and angry thoughts of betrayal. Only one thing was certain at the moment; he most definitely would not be attending the celebratory dinner.
His hands wrapped around the cue stick in his hand, wrenching it as if he could twist apart the solid piece of wood. As he continued to simmer, two words played over and over in his head. Traitor. Hypocrite. Hypocrite. Traitor. Darcy was both. He had betrayed him and their friendship. He had formed an alliance, knowing their friendship would constantly put Bingley in the path of Miss Jane Bennet, all while knowing Bingley's feelings on the matter. If Miss Bennet was not good enough for Bingley, Darcy should have walked away with him; he should never have returned to Hertfordshire. Instead, his so called friend was living in his house, and had tied himself to a family he had declared wholly unsuitable. Within a se'nnight of declaring the Bennets lacking in every way, he had become engaged to one!
He threw the cue stick on the table and stormed out of the room. He paced two steps in one direction, and then two steps in a different direction. He had no idea where he was going or what he was doing, but he needed to get out. Out of the house. Away from any enclosures. Then, realizing an outing would require a change of clothes, he bounded for his room, calling tersely for his man, Snyder.
Despite their rocky start, with each passing day, Jane's esteem for Colonel Fitzwilliam grew. She had continued to hold out hope for Bingley's return, despite what Darcy had said of Bingley's plans, but with the conclusion of each day, her hope diminished a little more. Soon she found herself grateful for the company of the colonel, who was proving to be an admirable distraction from her broken heart.
When they were together, they spoke of various things. The colonel was a well travelled man, and educated in any number of topics -- not just the military. His manners were not as refined as Darcy's, and he had a coarseness to him that Jane attributed to serving in the military for many years. Overall, though he was amiable and outspoken, he made for good company.
The first thing Jane learned to admire about the colonel was that he was a man of his word. As promised at their first meeting, he gently, but effectively, rebuffed both Lydia and Kitty's overt flirtations towards him. He even assisted in keeping the pair in line when they were in the company of the militia officers by glaring menacingly at the young men if the limits of propriety were tested.
The second thing Jane learned about Colonel Fitzwilliam was that unlike his cousin, the colonel was not adverse to be being teased, and easily laughed at himself. When the Meryton rumours concerning him reached Longbourn and Netherfield, Jane had become concerned. She was afraid he would become insulted at the mercenary manner in which he was being appraised. Much to her delight, however, the colonel took them in good humour and even joked about starting some new ones. "Perhaps I should tell them that I have recently discovered I was kidnapped as a boy, and that my true parents are Prussian Royalty. Once the war is over, I shall take my place at the castle," he had joked.
Perhaps most importantly though, Jane learned the colonel was a caring, compassionate, and devoted man. As a man of the world and the military, Jane had assumed him to be somewhat unfeeling and disconnected from the plight of others. To her delight, she discovered him to be the opposite.
She appreciated the loving way he interacted with Georgiana. He took a genuine interest in her wellbeing. Together, the three of them sometimes walked about the gardens or conversed quietly in order to give Elizabeth and Darcy time to speak privately. She adored the way he called Georgiana his ‘Little Pea Head' still, and the way he encouraged her when she played the pianoforte, or showed him her latest drawing or table design. In short, the colonel was everything to Georgiana, Jane wished Mr. Bennet would be to her and her sisters. His tender nature did not stop with Georgiana though; it was apparent whenever he was around small children.
In addition to the loving manner in which he cared for Georgiana, Colonel Fitzwilliam became the one person in whom Jane could confide her concerns over her sister's impending marriage. The colonel confirmed Jane's belief that very few knew the truth behind Elizabeth and Darcy's engagement, including Georgiana. He shared her concern for the felicity of both Darcy and Elizabeth, and even Georgiana, should she ever learn the truth.
He also gave Jane hope when he shared his belief that Darcy was half in love with Elizabeth. "I think my cousin believes himself to be above emotions such as love; but mark my words, one day he will find himself madly in love with your sister, and not know how he got there," he had said half in jest.
Though Jane had trouble seeing it herself, the very idea lifted her spirits. Perhaps this too would be as Elizabeth had said -- it would begin as a marriage of convenience, but evolve into something more.
While Jane could not deny she was disappointed that Bingley had not returned, she could not say she was sorry to have gotten to know the Honourable Colonel Fitzwilliam.
"You and Colonel Fitzwilliam seem to be getting along." Lizzy said one night, near the end of the first week after the colonel's arrival. As she snuggled under the counterpane of their bed, she added, "He seems to be paying you particular attention."
"It is only because we are required to chaperone you and Mr. Darcy." Jane countered, snuggling under the rugs herself. She turned until she was facing her sister, their faces no more than a foot apart.
Elizabeth chuckled. "Not only do we not need chaperoning, but Georgiana is frequently with us." With a sly grin she added, "And that does not explain how it is you are often separated from us. Either you are poor chaperones, or Fitzwilliam and I are the ones who should be doing the chaperoning."
Jane turned to bury her face in her pillow to hide her embarrassment. "It is not what you think, Lizzy. I have learned my lesson. I am still unable to walk into Meryton without being the object of some people's pity. I would not wish that twice over, and the colonel will be leaving so soon."
Elizabeth sighed, and Jane could swear there was a hint of wistfulness in it. "Yes, just a few more days." Sounding more upbeat, Elizabeth added, "But we shall see them again in another six weeks in London."
Jane smiled. To her surprise, her anticipation of the trip to London no longer revolved solely around her hopes to see Mr. Bingley. Not wanting to dwell on this new revelation though, she asked benignly, "Are you still certain you want to marry him, Lizzy?"
"Yes. I am certain. We get on famously, and Georgiana has already become like another sister to me. I will be quite content in the marriage."
Jane forced a tight smile, noting Elizabeth did not say happy, nor did she say anything about love. Then again, she had thought herself in love, and that had brought her nothing but pain; and worse, pity. Maybe there was something to her sister's engagement. Maybe the reason so few married for love involved more than just one's standing in society.
"Jane?" Elizabeth asked, interrupting her sister's thoughts. "If the colonel made you an offer, would you accept it?"
Jane laughed nervously and could not help the rosy colour her cheeks took on. "I had not thought on it, Lizzy. We have only met and are nothing more than friends." The truth of the matter was that she had thought on it, and was nowhere near a decision. She had seen the looks the colonel had given her and knew their encounters meant more than a casual acquaintance to him. Unlike Bingley, the colonel had been rather forward in pressing his suit. He had not done anything improper, but there was no denying there was an attraction on his part. She, on the other hand, had promised herself to be more cautious with her feelings, and had purposefully guarded her heart this time.
"As are Fitzwilliam and I," Elizabeth chided lightly.
"Good night, Lizzy," Jane said as she rolled to her other side. Her sister had an uncanny way of reading her thoughts, and she was not prepared to answer any more questions concerning the colonel.
Bingley stood in front of the mirror looking over himself one last time as his man Snyder gave his jacket one last brush. He was rather pleased with his appearance and his plan for the evening. A night at Almack's was just what he needed to get his mind off Hertfordshire and its residents -- all of them.
"I am off to find a wife, Snyder," Bingley said, sounding falsely optimistic.
"Of course, sir," Snyder replied. He desperately wanted to discover what happened to the lovely Miss Bennet, but knew better than to ask. Since they had returned to London, certain words were not to be said: Miss Bennet, Meryton, Longbourn, Netherfield and Hertfordshire to be specific. The master had never said as much, it was simply inferred from the general demeanour of both the master and the mistress. After a moment of silence he asked, "Dinner with Miss Sutton then, sir?"
Bingley rolled his eyes. For all of Miss Sutton's assets, a lifetime tethered to a person who knew nothing but the latest fashions of the season would be intolerable. "No, not Miss Sutton, Almack's."
As much as Bingley hated to admit it, Caroline was right. There were plenty of eligible ladies with plenty to offer, and Almack's was the center of the marriage mart, no matter the time of year. He owed this to his father and to Caroline; he would not shirk his duty.
Snyder's surprise at Bingley's response was only portrayed by the slightest lifting of the brows. It had been many years since Bingley had graced Almack's, and a sense of foreboding took up residence in the faithful servant's chest. Aware of his station though, Snyder only said, "Of course, sir. Then I wish you luck."
Posted on Monday, 14 January 2008
Life in a small town is marked by the coming and passing of major events -- these being the birth of a child, a death, the engagement of a son or daughter, or the marriage of one. Thus, the marriage of Miss Charlotte Lucas to Mr. William Collins was acknowledged by everyone in the town of Meryton in some manner or another. Merchants proudly proclaimed their contribution to the event; women spent time over tea commenting on the match; while behind closed doors, men teased Sir William Lucas over the frippery of the event.
The day of the wedding, it seemed all of Meryton turned out for the occasion. Despite the cold, most of the townsfolk gathered outside the small chapel waiting for the ceremony to be completed so they could get a glimpse of Charlotte's gown and offer their congratulations and wishes for joy.
Inside the chapel, Charlotte stood in front of the altar, next to Mr. Collins. She was dressed in a lovely white gown with navy blue embroidery along the edges. Jane smiled. She could not recall a time when Charlotte had looked so pretty. It is true, brides are always beautiful.
Across the aisle, Lady Lucas, dressed in all her finery, sat next to her husband, Sir William Lucas. Charlotte's younger sister Maria stood up with the bride while Mr. Bennet stood as Mr. Collins' witness.
Jane watched the ceremony, contemplating the events that had taken place leading up to the event. Charlotte's announcement that Maria was to be her maid of honour had surprised Jane a little, as Charlotte was not particularly close to her much younger sister; she was in fact expecting Elizabeth to do the honours. Though knowing Elizabeth's sentiments on the marriage, perhaps it was for the best. Jane was certain that had Elizabeth been asked, she would have declined. As for herself, Jane was not certain what she would have said; while it pained her to see her friend marrying such a ridiculous man, it was not her nature to decline a request from a friend. As it was, she was not asked, and thus decided not to dwell on it too much. There were other things of bigger consequence the wedding brought to mind.
First and foremost were her sister and her betrothed. In a few short months, it would be Elizabeth standing up there, pledging her life to a man she did not love -- just as Charlotte was doing. Unlike Mr. Collins, though, Darcy was far from ridiculous, was quite handsome, and he and Elizabeth were long standing friends. Despite all of this thought, the fact still remained that it was not to be a marriage created in ardent love. At least, Jane thought with a smile, as she heard Charlotte state her vows, Lizzy will not be tied to Mr. Collins. At least Lizzy can rely on the bonds of friendship. Poor Charlotte does not even have that comfort.
She looked down the pew and saw Elizabeth sitting next to Darcy, and wondered what her sister was thinking. Was she envisioning her marriage to Darcy? Was she dreading the prospect? Or did she look upon it with excitement? She noticed a small smile graced Elizabeth's lips, and forced herself to believe Elizabeth was thinking pleasantly of her own upcoming wedding.
Then she saw Elizabeth bite her lower lip. Knowing Elizabeth generally did this to keep herself from laughing, she looked back up at altar expecting to see Mr. Collins embarrassing himself. Surprisingly, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. She looked again at her sister, who was still biting her lip, and attempted to follow her gaze, but could find nothing amusing. She could only surmise her sister's amusement stemmed from counting her blessing that she was not the bride today, or perhaps recalling Mr. Collins' preposterous proposal of marriage.
Charlotte had stopped speaking, and Jane knew the ceremony was almost at an end. She saw the lips of the vicar moving, but did not hear his words. Her thoughts were focused on the changes that were taking place. Charlotte was moments away from transforming from Charlotte Lucas, her childhood friend, to Mrs. William Collins, a rector's wife. She lamented on how quickly and easily the transformation seemed to occur -- a few words, a few prayers, a few signatures and the deed was done. Just like that, Charlotte Lucas of Lucas Lodge no longer existed.
Next spring, it would be Elizabeth's turn. She would become the illustrious Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley.
First Charlotte, then Lizzy. They will go on with their lives and leave me behind. Alone. The thought caused a nearly unbearable wave of loneliness to wash over Jane. Tears stung her eyes. It was not supposed to be like this!
Once again, she recalled the times she and Elizabeth had planned a double wedding. They had planned it that way so neither one would be left behind. How unfortunate reality does not always cooperate with our dreams.
Unwittingly, her mind conjured an image of Bingley, and her heart twisted a little more. If only he had returned, we could have had our double wedding. She thought as tears once again threatened. If only I could speak to him. She sighed. Just one more conversation was all she wanted. It did not have to be a long one; just long enough to understand what she had done to change his mind.
She knew Elizabeth believed it had been Miss Bingley's influence, but Jane could not believe one sibling could interfere so callously with another's happiness. It had to be something she had done, but she could not fathom what. Before Bingley had left for London, she was certain of his attachment to her. He had not been overt in his words, but his every action told her she had not imagined his affection. It was obvious in the way he singled her out at gatherings; the way his eyes softened when they rested on her; the way he blushed when they spoke or ‘accidentally' touched hands. Now, all that remained were the memories.
Although it brought a new kind of pain, she wondered if he had by chance met someone else. After all, that is what Darcy had warned - that Bingley easily fell in and out of love. Perhaps he had found someone prettier and more worthy of him -- someone with a large dowry who came from an illustrious family.
The sound of an organ playing brought Jane out of her painful reverie and she was grateful. She watched the newly married couple exit the church arm in arm. She could not help but notice that neither person was smiling. If she were asked to describe them, she would say they looked relieved, rather than happy. What a sad feeling to have on your wedding day.
As Bingley entered Almack's, he smiled at the crowd gathered. It was not a large gathering due to the time of year, but enough ladies were present to make the evening pleasant. Not wanting to seem desperate or unseemly though, he disregarded the ladies and looked around for an acquaintance or two. The social center of London! I am certain to find an admirable diversion here!
As predicted, it did not take him long to find an old friend from his early days at Cambridge.
"Errick!" Bingley greeted. "How good to see you!"
Mr. Errick turned, pleasantly surprised. "Bingley! Ol' Chap! Good to see you!" Mr. Errick stood the same height as Bingley with dull dark hair. He had a narrow, bony frame, with sharp facial features. His small eyes were dark brown, almost black, and seemingly disappeared when contrasted with his large pointed nose. Looks mattered little to Errick though; he was worth eight thousand a year and thus attracted his share of women.
Not skipping a beat, Errick looked over the crowd gathered. "Not many here tonight," he said absently.
Bingley shrugged. "No, not a large number, but then it is not the Season."
Errick chuckled. "You have been hanging around that Darcy fellow too long, Bingley. This crowd is abysmal, even for this time of year."
Bingley turned sharply to his friend and was met with a wry smirk. It was then that he remembered why Errick and he did not socialize often. A drink with an old friend, a few dances, and then I shall head home, he reasoned. A few minutes later, Bingley and Errick, drinks in hand, were engaged in conversation with Mrs. Vickers, who was openly flirting with both of them.
"Mr. Errick, you did not tell me what charming friends you have." Mrs. Vickers simpered, lightly tapping Bingley on the arm with her fan. Her golden hair peeked out from under her emerald green turban, adorned with a white ostrich feather. She wore a matching emerald green silk gown, with a fashionably low cut neckline and a diamond broach that could do nothing but draw one's attention to her décolletage.
Mrs. Vickers was about the same age as Bingley. She had married young and only recently had come out of mourning, having lost her husband at sea while he was returning from the continent. More importantly, however, she had been left an estate the size of Netherfield in Oxfordshire and a rather large bank account. It was also rumoured she fully intended to take every advantage of her new found independence.
Bingley bowed. "Mrs. Vickers, I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
Mrs. Vickers let her eyes wander appreciatively over Bingley. From the blush on his face, she was certain he would be a less willing partner than his friend; the thought caused her to smile inwardly. She would enjoy a little challenge, and Bingley did not seem quite as inhibited as some others present, like that insufferable Lord Blakeslee. Looking Bingley over again, she smiled her approval. He would be perfect; something to hone her skills on before going after larger game. Having decided on her entertainment for the night, she again tapped Bingley on the arm again with her fan. "Pray, Mr. Bingley, what keeps you in London this time of year?"
"My sister wished to spend some time in London before the holidays." Bingley answered. He finished his brandy in a single gulp and surprisingly found another one in his hand immediately afterwards.
"Oh!" Mrs. Vickers tittered, "From where do you hail?" She fanned herself quickly, again trying to draw his attention to the neckline of her gown.
Bingley smiled tightly at the shameless flirtation. "I have recently acquired an estate in Hertfordshire," Bingley replied. "To be fully honest though, I am only leasing it for the time being."
Mrs. Vickers batted her eye lashes. "Ah! A new landowner," she sighed softly. "Estates are so tedious. I leave everything to my late husband's steward." Taking Bingley's arm she said coquettishly, "I do detest the country. There are so many more pleasant diversions here in London. Do you not agree?"
Bingley hid his nervousness with Mrs. Vickers forwardness by taking yet another long draw on his brandy.
Errick was well acquainted with Mrs. Vickers and was taking delight in watching his friend squirm. He nudged his friend with his elbow and said in a low voice, "Like old times, eh friend?"
Bingley chuckled nervously, knowing what his friend meant. Errick had a way with the fairer sex; a skill he honed during his Cambridge days. As a friend, Bingley had had his share in the rewards. That was until he started hanging out with Darcy.
"I think that Darcy stiff has been rubbing off on you too much, Bingley ol' boy. Do not worry though. It is just like riding a horse."
Bingley bristled and was about to defend Darcy, but Errick only laughed. "I only meant we do not see you around here much anymore; and I am fairly certain it is because Darcy avoids the place." With a smirk, he exchanged a sly look with Mrs. Vickers and said, "You do still dance, right Bingley? Darcy has not convinced you to swear that off yet, has he?"
Bingley bristled again. Then, as if proving a point, he looked at their female companion. "Would you do me the honour, Mrs. Vickers?" His speech was thick from the effects of having already downed two glasses of brandy.
Mrs. Vickers tittered, "I thought you would never ask, Mr. Bingley."
Bingley gulped down the rest of his drink, handed his empty glass to the nearest servant, and escorted Mrs. Vickers to the floor. After a set with Mrs. Vickers, he danced several more, each with a different lady.
By the end of the evening, he was rather intoxicated, but was feeling better than he had in several days. It may have been the brandy, but he believed Almack's had proved to be a good idea. He had shared the company of several young suitable and eligible ladies, and had subtly let it be known he was looking for a wife. In his inebriated state, coupled with his success that evening, he considered himself to be a handsome catch. Now that he had let his intentions be known, he could expect his drawing room to be quite busy in the days that followed. Caroline would be quite pleased.
He furrowed his brow for a moment, wondering why he had not frequented the establishment before now, only to have Errick's words ring in his head. Darcy hated Almack's.
"Well, Darcy," he muttered to himself as he waited for his beaver and walking stick, "you can keep your Hertfordshire and artful Bennets." He donned his hat, somewhat crookedly, and walked unsteadily towards the door. He was almost to the entrance when he felt a gentle hand on his arm. He turned to identify the owner and upon recognizing her, smiled.
"How disappointing to find you leaving so early, Mr. Bingley," Mrs. Vickers simpered, as she continued walking with Bingley towards the door. "I was so hoping for more of your company this evening." She ran her hand up his arm, while her body rubbed against him.
Bingley grinned an inebriated smile that was an attempt at gallantry. "Of course, Mrs. Vickers. Where may I take you?"
With Christmas just around the corner, the Netherfield party prepared to bid adieu, much to the dismay of those still in Mertyon. All the finery that had been purchased, all the idle hours spent walking the streets of town in hopes of being seen had been in vain. The colonel was leaving without having formed an attachment, and another opportunity would not arise until the wedding next spring. To add to their dismay, the militia was also departing for the warm shores of Brighton.
The day before their departure, the Darcys and the colonel visited Longbourn to take their leave. "Miss Bennet," the colonel said, "it gives me no pleasure to be separated from you, but I must return to Pemberley with Darcy. The rest of my family is to meet us there for Christmas."
Jane nodded and returned a shy smile. Over the past week or so, his visits to Longbourn had become a daily occurrence that Jane anticipated. His attention had done a great deal to bolster her self-esteem. "I understand, Colonel. It would be dreadful to be away from family at this time of year."
Boldly, Colonel Fitzwilliam took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. He was relieved when she let it remain there. It was not much, but it was more than she had previously been willing to give him. "I understand your sister will be in London after the holidays." Jane confirmed his statement with a small nod. She then looked up at him, only to find him looking down on her with a tender smile. Unreasonably, she felt her pulse quicken and had to look away.
Seeing her discomfort, the colonel lightly cleared his throat and turned his attention forward again. "Sometime after Christmas, I will be required to return to my regiment, which is currently stationed near London." He glanced at her to gauge her reaction to the news.
Jane steadied herself with a short nod, refusing to look up at the colonel once more. She was determined to never again make herself vulnerable to disappointment. Colonel Fitzwilliam was leaving, and she had no reason to believe she would see him again, except perhaps, at the wedding. "How long will you be in London, sir?" Jane asked politely, her usual serene mask firmly in place.
"I am not certain. It depends if we are sent to the continent."
Despite her resolve not to develop any emotional attachment, she felt her eyes instantly fill with tears at the idea of the colonel being in harms way. She blinked back the tears. "Lizzy is to go to London near the end of January. I am told she may stay with your parents for part of the time, in preparation for her wedding." She was dismayed by how unsteady her voice sounded, and hoped the colonel had not noticed.
"And will you be accompanying your sister?"
Jane blushed and bit her lower lip. "I believe so, though for how long has not been decided. I will stay as long as my mother can spare me, or until my aunt wishes her house to herself again," she said meekly.
The colonel grinned like a pleased schoolboy. Perhaps he could convince his mother to extend the invitation to stay at Lanelle House to Jane as well. The idea of her under the same roof was almost more than he could hope for. He placed a chaste kiss on Jane's hand, but did not relinquish it right away. "May I call on you while you are in London, Miss Bennet?"
Jane blushed, and before she had given thought to the colonel's question, nodded her permission. Realizing what she had done, she felt her heart race. She had been resolved not to let things grow beyond friendly acquaintance, and yet she found herself looking forward to the prospect of him calling on her. She consoled herself by remembering there would be at least six weeks before she would see him again. Perhaps by then she would be more certain of herself.
The colonel interrupted her private thoughts, realizing it was time for him to leave. "Miss Bennet," he said softly, "I wish you a most joyous Christmas." With a last parting look, he said, "I live in anticipation for the day I will see you again in London."
Jane turned crimson at the sentiments. There could be no mistaking his affections. A small flicker of hope for future happiness entered her heart.
Charles Bingley sat alone in his library, brooding. The room was dark, except for the lone candle burning on the table next to him and whatever light emanated from the fireplace. Brooding was a new experience for him. He had always been of a cheerful disposition, but lately things seemed to be spinning out of his control, putting him in a disagreeable mood that he could not shake.
He thought back, trying to recall how it all began. When did I become so unhappy? He scowled as the answer came to him. It all started the night he received the missive from Darcy announcing his engagement. Since then, he had been subjected to boring dinner parties with Caroline's friends, nights alone in his study, pouring over his books and correspondence, or worse, nights with only Caroline and the Hursts for company. That was in addition to Caroline's tantrums, which had increased in frequency and veracity since she learned about Darcy's engagement.
His efforts to cure himself of the doldrums had driven him to that dreadful night at Almack's. He shuddered, recollecting waking next to Mrs. Vickers. It had been years since he had unexpectedly woken next to a woman. Momentarily, he pondered when the last time was. Then it hit him -- the first term in his second year at Cambridge. He had nearly been expelled from the University after that incident. He shook his head at the memory and then chuckled ruefully, recalling he had met Darcy a se'ennight later. There would be little chance of seeing Darcy this time.
He poured himself a glass a port, having sworn off brandy for the time being, naming it as the culprit that caused him to lose his head the night at Almack's. After taking a sip, he plopped back into his chair, absently staring at a book beside it. He had been in the library for over an hour, and was only halfway through the first chapter; the book was simply not holding his interest. He never did understand how Darcy could sit for hours at a time reading a book. They were never as entertaining as real people.
He shook his head and turned his mind back to his current problem. He needed to do something. Almack's, and even the club, were out of the question. He needed to lie low and hope a scandal did not break out; Caroline would never forgive him if one did. His books were balanced, and he had already been to the billiard room once that evening. The performances at Drury Lane, he had already seen, and had no interest in seeing again.
Bored, he began to wonder how it was that he suddenly had so much idle time. He grunted his conclusion - it was Darcy. Until recently, Darcy had seemingly always kept him busy -- while at Cambridge and up until he returned from Hertfordshire. Darcy was always reminding him of business to tend, or requesting his assistance or companionship while tending to his own matters of estate. If there was no business to address, there was fencing, hunting, riding, or any other number of activities he seemed to conjure. Now that Darcy had absconded to Hertfordshire, Bingley felt quite lost.
Christmas not being long in coming, only increased the loneliness. The streets of London were nearly barren; most of its inhabitants had left town already for their country estates or family elsewhere. With some relief, he recalled he too would be leaving town soon to visit an aunt and uncle in Suffolk. Caroline and he would spend the Christmas holiday there, and then travel further north to visit another relation.
Despite never being terribly close to their extended family, without fail, they always received an invitation for Christmas from at least one of them. This year, more than most, Bingley was grateful for the invitation. The last thing he wanted was to be alone with Caroline and her tantrums at Christmas.
Seemingly from no where, the conversation he had with Jane regarding Christmas popped into his head. He sighed, remembering how much he had hoped Caroline would agree to stay in Hertfordshire with him for the holidays. He recalled the merriment with which Jane described Christmas at Longbourn, surrounded by her cousins and siblings. How warm and happy she made it sound. He shook his head roughly to clear the memories; it would not do to dwell on things that could not be, and Jane could not be his.
Posted on Tuesday, 22 January 2008
Christmas at Longbourn was a lively event. With the addition of the Gardiners and their four children, the house was a flurry of activity. The house was decorated with mistletoe, holly, and pine. Everywhere the scent of pine, orange, cinnamon, and clove permeated the air. In the drawing room, a special table decorated in red velvet and gold trim hosted a smattering of gifts that were wrapped in pretty silk, gold paper, and colourful ribbon.
On Christmas Eve, the Phillips - Mrs. Bennet's sister and her husband - joined the Longbourn party, adding to both the chaos and merriment of the house.
Per tradition, after a hearty meal on Christmas Eve, everyone gathered in the drawing room for cakes, coffee, chocolate, and tea. The Yule log was lit and everyone listened attentively while Mr. Bennet read the Christmas story.
This was perhaps Jane's favourite part of the festivities, and had been for many years. For during these short hours, Mr. Bennet was a caring and doting father, devoid of any sharp witticisms against her mother and sisters. Mrs. Bennet was a quiet and thoughtful hostess that never once spoke of nerves, suitors, or marriage; and her younger sisters set aside their bickering over baubles and ribbon. Why this occurred only on Christmas Eve, Jane was uncertain. Perhaps everyone was entranced by Mr. Bennet's gift of story telling -- for he was a gifted orator -- or perhaps it was simply the solemnity of the holiday. Never one to meditate long on such things, Jane simply enjoyed the merriment, peace, and love of being surrounded by her family.
On Christmas day, Longbourn returned to the whirlwind of activity that defined it. The children ran around the house, playing with and admiring their new toys, while the adults talked merrily over hot chocolate and mulled wine.
That afternoon, everyone was surprised to see the post arrive with the purpose of delivering a large wooden crate. Intrigued by the oddity of the event, everyone gathered round it in excited anticipation as Mr. Bennet plied it open. Lying on top of the linen cloths that had been used in the packaging was an envelope addressed to Elizabeth.
Jane watched, amused, as Elizabeth blushed and took the note in hand. She watched as a tumult of emotions flitted across Elizabeth's face as she read the note; surprise, amusement, and one she could not quite place; was it longing? Before Jane could decipher the look, it was gone, and Elizabeth's attention had been garnered by her cousin.
"Lizzy, what is it?" cried Samantha, whose patience had worn out.
Elizabeth laughed merrily. "It is from Fitzw... er, Mr. Darcy. He sends his best wishes to everyone for a Happy Christmas."
"Open it! Open it!" entreated young Ian, dancing impatiently. His cry was echoed by his other three siblings.
Not wishing to try the patience of the children, they were permitted to open theirs first. For young Ian, there was a wooden boat complete with its crew. His older brother Jonathan received a bow and arrow set. Samantha and Leah each received a new doll with a porcelain face and real hair.
As the others began to open their gifts, Ian garnered his cousin's attention. "Lizzy, will you tell Mr. Darcy that next Christmas I should like a bow and arrow. Jonathan said he will not share his," Ian said petulantly. The young boy was quickly hushed by his mother, but not before everyone shared in a good laugh.
Mary was given some new pieces of sheet music in addition to a pair of white satin evening gloves, and Kitty and Lydia were each given a plain reticule with an assortment of ribbons and beads with which to decorate them. Jane was given a length of expensive lace, which everyone remarked was quite lovely.
While the others were busy with their own gifts, Jane fingered the fine lace, contemplating what should be done with it. It was finer than any lace she owned, and thus she did not wish to waste it. She had begun to unfold it to check the amount available when she found another gift hidden amongst its folds. She looked around the room and noticed everyone was now busy watching Elizabeth open her gift and had not noticed her. Surreptitiously, she opened the box, surprised to find a beautiful silver hair pin; the top had been engraved and painted with a floral arrangement. She let out a small gasp and then quickly closed it for later examination. From the short glimpse, she knew the sender to have impeccable taste. But who was the sender? In addition to the lace, it was too much to be from Mr. Darcy!
She looked over to see what Mr. Darcy had given Elizabeth, unconsciously verifying that he was not the sender; and she was correct. While Mr. Darcy had been generous, he was not overly ostentatious with his gift to his betrothed. Elizabeth received a silver handled mirror, with matching comb and brush. In addition, there was a set of silver hair combs adorned with small painted porcelain flowers. Jane was now certain Mr. Darcy was not the sender of the gift. The hair pin, in addition to the lace was likely to equal to the value of Elizabeth's gift. Her calculations were interrupted by her mother.
"No jewellery?" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "Are you certain you have not forgotten something, Lizzy? I am certain a man of Mr. Darcy's status would have sent you jewellery."
Jane and Elizabeth simultaneously admonished their mother. "These are quite lovely mother. I do not need jewellery." Mrs. Bennet let out a huff, but was soon distracted by opening her own gift. Within seconds she was in raptures over the Kashmir shawl and set of silver candlesticks she received. "How thoughtful your Mr. Darcy is Lizzy! I must show this to Lady Lucas. What fine material this is! Is he not a most wonderful man, Mr. Bennet?"
Mr. Bennet nodded once and opened his own gift. A bright smile graced his countenance as he gingerly ran his had over the covers of the first edition books he now held. The books were set aside for only a moment as he examined the fine bottle of sherry that accompanied them. "I think I shall like your Mr. Darcy quite a bit, Lizzy," he said dryly. "He seems to have a keen understanding of my habits."
For the Phillips and the Gardiners, there was a large box of chocolates and a small keepsake boxes, with glass inlays. Mr. Phillips was given an exquisite new pen made of tortoise shell, and Mr. Gardiner two first edition books different from the ones Mr. Bennet received so they could share.
In addition to all of this, there were three large bags of candy for everyone to share, and two jars of Pemberley's apple butter.
"Your young man has made a most admirable attempt in ingratiate himself in the family. Were it not for these gifts, I might have been inclined to withdraw my permission," Mr. Bennet said dryly.
Mrs. Bennet cooed loudly, supporting her husband's claims. "He has indeed, as well he should. He has enough money for us all. Why I dare say these gifts were a mere pittance to him."
There were other murmurings and songs of praise for Mr. Darcy, but they escaped Jane's attention. She was too busy contemplating her hidden gift. Could it be from the colonel? He had travelled to Pemberley with the Darcys, so it was plausible he requested it to be added. Another more unnerving thought occurred to her. What if it was from Mr. Bingley? Could it be an apology for his absence? Elizabeth had mentioned the Darcys were to travel to London for a day or two before going to Pemberley. Darcy could have seen Bingley in that time.
Jane took a deep breath, to quiet her rapidly beating heart. At the first available moment, she excused herself for her room where she could examine her secret gift more closely. Safe from prying eyes, she opened the box containing the hair pin once again and fingered the engraving. She removed the pin from its holdings and as she did, found a note that had been hidden in the casing.
She blushed. It was from the colonel. The identity of the sender caused a mixture of emotions. Had the gift been from Bingley, she would know she had not been forgotten and he was returning to her. Her heartache would have ended; her hope would not have been in vain.
On the other hand, knowing the colonel had sent the gift was somehow comforting. He had told her he would not forget her so easily, and now she knew she could trust in his fastidiousness. He would not so quickly cast her aside for someone else.
She tucked the note back into the box and fingered the hair pin again. Colonel Fitzwilliam had taken a big risk enclosing the gift, but she could not say she was sorry for it.
She thought with new excitement about seeing him again. It would not be for another month at least, but she could now honestly say she was looking forward to it. She was tempted to rearrange her hair with the new hair pin, knowing it would please Colonel Fitzwilliam. As she was about to undo her hair though, she realized she had no way to explain its existence. Until she could, she decided to tuck it safely in her bureau drawer.
Bingley looked around the table with pleasure. At the head of the table sat his uncle, at the other end, his wife. There was also his older cousin, his wife, and their two children, his younger cousin, and Caroline. The table was decorated for the Christmas holiday with an emerald green tablecloth that was trimmed in ivory lace, and two sprays of pine and holly that surrounded the base of the silver candlesticks.
He and Caroline had arrived at their uncle's estate four days ago. Since their arrival, they had received an uncommon amount of snow. It was nothing compared to the amount received in the far north, but it more than usually seen in these parts.
While some of the others found it a nuisance, Bingley welcomed it. It somehow added an enchantment to the air and the holiday. Then again, Bingley may have found anything but the dreariness of London enchanting. Never the less, whether it was the snow or something else, Bingley's spirits had once again been lifted. The time with family had been soothing. He enjoyed the noise and activity that surrounded him. Not only that, but he was able to go riding nearly every morning, something he was not able to do so easily in London. He felt his spirits renewed as he reacquainted himself with his extended family, and it served to strengthen him and reinforce the sentiments of familial duty.
As much as he hated to admit it, sitting in the midst of his relations, he was glad he had listened to Caroline and left Hertfordshire. Had he followed his own path, he would no doubt be surrounded by a large swath of people, most of whom he did not know. The table would be crowded and the room too loud to make any conversation. Not to mention, he would probably seated next a Bennet relation he had never met. He grimaced at the idea of a room full of Mrs. Bennets; and just the thought of a houseful of boisterous Lydias and Kittys was enough to make a head throb.
He let out a contended sigh. The room was alive with conversation and squeals of delight from the children, but no one was fighting to be the center of attention. No one was blushing in embarrassment from a crude comment someone else had made. No one was commenting on how rich he was or how expensive his gifts were. He was comfortable and relaxed, surrounded by people he knew.
Unfortunately for Bingley, thoughts of the Bennets soon brought Jane to the forefront of his mind, and a familiar ache entered his chest. He took a large drink of wine, hoping to dull the pain and admonished his inability to forget her. He chastised himself, ‘I owe it to my family to marry well.' He took another long drink of wine, and determined to put Jane out of his mind, joined in the conversation going on next to him.
The day after Christmas, Longbourn seemed to settle a bit as everyone seemed over tired from the festivities of the last two days. Not the least of these was Jane, who sat in quiet reflection in her room. The Phillips had returned home, and the Gardiners would leave in a day to two, depending on the weather.
The rest of the family was downstairs, but Jane had felt a sudden urge to be alone. It had struck her earlier that day that this would be the last Christmas she would spend with Elizabeth at Longbourn. In future years, Lizzy would be at Pemberley or in London with Darcy's family. The thought had caused tears to well up again, but before they could spill over, she had left for the solitude of her room.
"It was not supposed to be like this," Jane whispered to herself. "He was supposed to return and we were supposed to be married at the same time." She shook her head slowly at the childhood memory and a small smile graced her lips. Elizabeth and she had spent many nights talking in bed about their double wedding. They had not omitted a single detail in the planning. From the flowers they would carry, to the dishes that would be served at the wedding breakfast, to the raptures of their mother; they had planned it all. With not a little sadness, Jane resigned herself to the fact that none of it would ever be realized.
In a few short months, Elizabeth would be married, and Jane, she would be at the altar, but not as a bride - even if Bingley was there too.
She drew her knees to her chest as the emptiness of the future began to consume her. How was it that just a few months ago she did not believe she could be any happier, and now nothing seemed to be right. It had all begun the day the Darcys arrived at Longbourn without Bingley.
She knew she should be happy for Elizabeth; it was a very favourable match. No one in the family was likely to receive such an offer; yet she could not help the niggling doubts that kept her from being truly happy for Elizabeth. Every time she had spoken to Elizabeth about the marriage, her sister simply smiled and assured her that she was content with the decision.
"But she should be happy and in love!" Jane protested aloud. "Not just content!" Then with a sad sigh, she murmured to herself, "At least she has not suffered a broken heart." She wallowed a little longer and then taking a deep breath decided herself. If this was to be the last Christmas with Elizabeth at Longbourn, she was going to enjoy it. She would not let thoughts of him ruin it. She would work to get him out of her mind and focus on her sister.
Colonel Fitzwilliam sat up and stretched, releasing the knot in his back. In his lap was a book on Spanish naval history, next to him on the table was a glass of port and newly lit cigar. He smiled to himself. It was certainly comfortable living here at Pemberley. At times like this, he wondered why he had never taken up Darcy's offer to live here with him and Georgiana.
He puffed on the cigar and stared into the fireplace. As much as he was enjoying himself, he knew he would not be content in this lifestyle for long. Despite some of the wretched living conditions, he enjoyed the army life. He enjoyed the travel, the discipline of it all, and even watching the boys under his command turn into respectable men.
None the less, the respite was welcome, especially when they were as entertaining as the previous night. It had been a long time since the four of them - he, Stephen, his older brother, Darcy and Wesley - had caused such a ruckus. Over brandy and cigars, the four of them had spent a good amount of time teasing Darcy over his upcoming nuptials and then discussed all manner of topics. It had been near dawn before they realized the decanter was dry and the cigars cold.
Reflecting on the night's conversations, he had become certain of one thing - Darcy was in love, though it was not terribly surprising. What he had seen of Miss Elizabeth, she was a good match for his cousin. Her teasing, open manner struck a good balance with Darcy's reticent nature. Not for the first time, did he wonder the depth of Darcy's friendship with Elizabeth before now. All attempts at prying had been soundly rebuffed, making the colonel wonder if Darcy had wanted to court her all those years ago.
Thoughts of Miss Elizabeth eventually brought thoughts of Jane. He smiled a silly smile and silently raised a toast to her. While he admired Elizabeth's lively nature, it was Jane's silent beauty that captured his attention. He wondered how many had ever glimpsed the woman beneath her outward beauty. Was he the first to see the strength of her character? Did others notice the caring yet firm manner in which she looked after her sisters? Did they notice the selfless manner in which she saw to everyone's comfort around her? Did they notice how much responsibility she took upon herself? He smiled. There was definitely more to Jane Bennet than met the eye, and he felt privileged for having seen it.
Lost in his own thoughts, he wondered what she had thought of his gift. Did she like it? Was she angry he had sent it? He had broken the rules of propriety by sending it to her, but he acted before giving it much thought. By the time he had begun second guessing his actions, it was too late. Part of him wished he had the privilege of gifts and letters his cousin had. At the same time, he knew it was too soon.
Jane was still hurting over Bingley's inconstancy. He shook his head and thought, not for the first time, what a fool Bingley was. No matter Bingley's reasons for not returning or sending some sort of assurance to Jane of his feelings, he could not entirely be sorry for it. While he did not like to see Jane hurt, it provided him the opportunity to press his suit. And press his suit he would! In a few short weeks, they would reunite in London. Perhaps by then, the spectre that was Bingley would be lifted and Jane would be free.
Chapter Nine
Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth pulled back the sack cloth to find numerous smaller packages wrapped in gold paper. One by one Elizabeth examined the tags and handed the items to the intended recipient. After all the packages were handed out, they took turns opening the gifts. Forgive the impropriety, but this reminded me of our strolls in your gardens. Until London.