Into Hertfordshire (14 page)

At this Elizabeth turned away from him, but whether from vexation, or amusement, or even just to gain time to prepare her next attack, he could not tell.

“Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over,” said Miss Bingley, “and pray what is the result?”

“I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise.”

To this point Darcy had enjoyed their game, but he now felt he owed Elizabeth—no; he wished to give her—not mere wit, but something of greater depth. Watching her carefully for any sign of misunderstanding, he demurred: “No, I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.”

“
That
is a failing indeed!” cried Elizabeth. “Implacable resentment
is
a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot
laugh
at it. You are safe from me.”

Darcy was less interested in being safe from Elizabeth than in being understood by her. Her playful astonishment gave Darcy to know that she had not recognised that he had left their teazing game of wits behind, so he tried again: “There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil—a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.”

“And
your
defect is a propensity to hate everybody,” she accused with mock severity.

Not at all, thought Darcy to himself; only a propensity to love very few. But now, let us have a little truth about you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. “And yours,” he retorted, although he smiled as he spoke, “is wilfully to misunderstand them.”

Miss Bingley, who had been listening to their exchange with growing alarm—recognising the fact that Darcy had never addressed her with such candour—decided that a diversion was necessary, instantly. “Do let us have a little music!” she cried. “Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst?” The pianoforte was opened hurriedly and a rather loud piece begun with spirit. Elizabeth curtseyed to Darcy with an enigmatic smile and returned to her seat.

Darcy watched her receding back regretfully. Elizabeth had not appreciated his honesty for what it was, and this disappointed him. He was certain it was simply a lack of recognition of his change of purpose, and not a deliberate snub; notwithstanding, he wished it had turned out better. He looked with resentment at Miss Bingley, for it was her intrusion into their discussion that had cut off his attempt to reach an improved understanding between Elizabeth and himself.

When his thoughts arrived at this point, however, he brought himself up short. What, exactly, did he mean by such an endeavour? He never spoke in this unguarded fashion with any one other than his sister. When, precisely, had Elizabeth—that is, Miss Elizabeth Bennet—reached such an elevated status?

The more he considered, the more he came to realise how seriously he had over-stepped himself with regard to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Upon reviewing his relations with her, it was evident that each time he spoke with her he became more sensible of the attraction of her wit and her person; unless he wished to give himself over to her powers altogether, it must end. Indeed, he must not do to Elizabeth—
Miss Elizabeth Bennet
—the very thing he had reprimanded Bingley for doing to Miss Grantley, and since an alliance with the Bennet family was not faintly possible, he must cease his attentions to this member of it, no matter how charming he might find her. He sat for some time facing this realization, and its inescapable conclusion. Bingley’s plaintive, “But I liked her!” echoed in his mind, but he firmly pushed the thought away. In this instance his likes and dislikes did not enter into the matter. Clearly, his superior position made it incumbent upon him to protect Elizabeth—
Miss Elizabeth Bennet!
—and to do so he must not allow her to feel that she might be able to influence his felicity. Regretfully, but with a strong conviction of rectitude, he returned to his book with a deep sense of purpose. If his eyes did wander from time to time in her direction, it could be for no other reason than to reassure himself of the correctness and necessity of his decision.

Chapter Fourteen

Miss Darcy read and reread her brother’s last letter with an amused and wondering interest. Never in all her life had she known him to devote an entire letter to his relations with women; he rarely went so far as to mention a name, and then, more often than not, only that he might specifically draw her shortcomings to his sister’s attention. Furthermore, he had made no reference at all to the burden under which she herself laboured. Very clearly, to her eyes at least, he found himself embroiled in an emotional tempest of a sort he had never experienced before. This was extremely intriguing to Georgiana; all the more so because she had always hoped to find a true friend and sister through her brother’s marriage. There was no one in their Derbyshire acquaintance, nor yet in their London circle, with whom she shared any bond of affection, and she longed in her heart for such a friend. She knew, given her brother’s character, that any woman who married him for the right reasons would possess a most warm and caring nature, in order to see past his manner and into his heart, and a degree of understanding unusual among her sex, in order to have attracted him and earned his approbation. This gave her to cherish the hope that she might find in such a woman the friend of her heart she longed for. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, it appeared from his letters, had all this and more, and, to a sister’s eye, his letters made it clear that he was already closer to an attachment than he had ever been before. A review of his previous letters showed nothing to injure this conclusion.

Her own troubled heart was eased considerably by imagining her brother happily married. She had come close at times to believing him too much alone, as he always seemed to stand outside of his circle and observe it, rather than to be a part of it—and might have been inclined to believed it the more had she not been restrained by her respect for him from presuming to pass judgment on his actions. His letters to her in the past were filled with his observations and opinions on his acquaintance, but rarely gave her to feel that he had any real partiality, aside from Mr. Bingley, for those who peopled his world. His manner of speaking of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, therefore, captured her attention most particularly. He had said that he admired her countenance, so she must be pretty; not too pretty, she hoped, for she knew that he had spurned women who were renowned for their form and features. Was Miss Bennet a Helen of Troy, then, to have thus drawn his interest? She considered it, but decided at length to believe otherwise; he spoke rather more of her mind and heart than of her appearance. She was pleased with this conclusion, as she had no desire to find herself related to a woman with such perfection of form; and she had rather that her brother’s love have as its foundation the less superficial aspects of his beloved’s nature. His own description of her had been “sincere”, “witty”, “charming”, and “warm”, as well as “amiable” and “modest”; had she set out to list those attributes most desirable in his wife and her sister, it could not have differed greatly from this. She could not understand, however, why he should object to her family. That he might wish to avoid so hazardous an undertaking as falling in love, she could understand—that was common enough amongst his sex; but he was so completely rational and honest that she could hardly imagine that he could so deceive himself with regard to his true motives as to hide them behind false objections. She resolved to do what was in her power to relieve his mind and minimise whatever difficulties he was imagining.

Miss Bingley, on the other hand, presented a real and immediate problem. While a description of her character would be very different from that for Miss Elizabeth Bennet, she was by no means a bad sort of person—but she was a most determined one. Georgiana could well imagine that she might finally achieve her goal simply by dint of her determination. Well, her brother had left open an enquiry as to what he might best do about her, and Georgiana had been privy to a side of her about which he might have need of knowing.

Pemberley,

November 17, —

Dearest Fitzwilliam,

Thank you for your letter of the 15
th
; I find your descriptions of what passes at Netherfield a most welcome diversion. What you write about Miss Bingley, unfortunately, does not surprise me as much as it should; in all truth I must confess that I have found in her an unfortunate tendency towards assurance, self-indulgence, and a certain coarseness of feeling; I hope you will forgive me for speaking so of some one of your acquaintance, but I believe this to be a very serious matter, and I would have you know what I know. I have heard her speaking with her sister in unguarded moments when there were no members of the opposite sex present, and observed in her a most…pragmatic…view of men. She counts herself amongst the most eligible women in London Society, and she is bent on making a “conquest worthy of her qualities,” to use her expression; it would appear that she finds you worthy. I need hardly say, Brother, but be most circumspect. She is capable of ploys that make me blush to contemplate. Time, and an adherence to absolute propriety, will eventually discourage her, as she knows that youth is fleeting, and desires to make her “conquest” before her bloom is gone.

But let me pass on to a more agreeable topic: I am most desirous of knowing more of Miss Elizabeth Bennet; what you have written interests me greatly. Brother, you have confused me exceedingly, for you say on the one hand that she is all that is amiable, and on the other that any connection with her family is unthinkable; yet you have never said
why
. As you know, I am forced to conclude that she is a gentleman’s daughter, by her inclusion in the Netherfield family circle. What, then, is the impediment? You have mentioned her nonsensical mother, but it cannot be this, because, well…Good Heavens, if one were to name all of the nonsensical mothers in London, or in Derbyshire, for that matter—and most certainly in Kent—the list would be formidable, indeed.

And I am very troubled to hear that you will leave before the ball; pray do not—please? We shall be amply prepared for our relations’ visit without your hurrying your departure. Will you not stay to dance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet? I would have you do so, dear Brother, truly I would. It would be a shame indeed if you were to lose her acquaintance forever without ever once having danced with her.

I have already begun preparations for our removal to Town. Mrs. Annesley and I have discussed what is needful, and have already planned several possible entertainments for the time our family is all together; so you see, Fitzwilliam, there is no need for you to hurry your return.

I shall hope to hear that you have changed your mind, and decided to stay, when I receive your next letter.

Your affectionate sister,

Georgiana Darcy

Chapter Fifteen

The morning after his unhappy illumination regarding his feelings and obligations towards Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy heard that the Bennet ladies were to return home on the day following; he met the news with a mixture of regret and relief. He knew himself well enough to know that, once he had arrived at a conclusion, there could be no second thoughts: that he must relinquish Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s acquaintance did not admit a doubt. Yet the difficulty of maintaining a proper distance from her would be very trying under their current circumstances. In the presence of the others at breakfast, where there was no want of conversation, he had no difficulty in maintaining his self-command; his mannerly resolve was sorely tested at one point later in the morning, however, as he was seated in the library before the Netherfield ledgers. She came in search of something to read, but beyond the introductory civilities, neither of them spoke for the half-an-hour or more she remained there. Darcy congratulated himself on his success, and his confidence in his strength increased; he was curiously aware, however, of the scent of flowers that followed her about and lingered even long after she was gone; and, unaccountably, he was able to get very little forward with his work. At length he gave up on the tallies and figures and went out of doors to clear his mind. Upon re-entering the Hall he exerted his vigilance for the remainder of the day, and, by the simple expedience of being constantly aware of Elizabeth’s whereabouts, contrived never to be alone with her again. He thereby managed to regain his chambers in the evening without having spoken a dozen words to her altogether throughout the day: he again congratulated himself on having held so firmly to his resolve. He wrote to his sister, relating how he had spent his day, but, upon review, the letter seemed to convey the idea that he had done nothing other than follow Miss Elizabeth Bennet about the Hall all day. He therefore re-wrote it, giving what he deemed to be a more accurate, albeit brief, summation of his activities, and focused in the main on their plans for the Christmas holidays.

The next day was Sunday, and following Morning Services the two Bennet ladies left Netherfield. Miss Bennet smiled sweetly on one and all as she bid them adieu, thanking every one most sincerely for the many kindnesses she had received. Bingley, ever solicitous, made sure she was well supplied with rugs and warm bricks to fortify her against the rigours and inclemency of her three-mile journey back to Longbourn. Miss Elizabeth Bennet seemed in fine spirits at their departure; Darcy wondered at her joy in returning to her mother, but, after all, home is home, and must take precedence in the heart over any other place. Darcy hardly knew how to be sad they were gone, yet he watched their carriage longer than any one else in the party save Bingley himself. The two men turned and walked into the house together, though neither found anything to say to the other.