Goodly Creatures: A Pride and Prejudice Deviation (45 page)

That evening, when the ladies removed after dinner, Elizabeth ran up to her sister, and after ensuring she was well guarded from cold, brought her down to the drawing room. There Mr Bingley’s sisters, with many professions of pleasure, welcomed her. Elizabeth conceded that she passed an agreeable hour before Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy joined them.

But when the gentlemen entered, Jane was no longer the first object. Miss Bingley’s eyes were drawn toward Mr Darcy, and she immediately engaged him in conversation. He, for his part, addressed himself toward Miss Bennet, with polite congratulation for her improved health. Mr Hurst also made a slight bow toward Jane, and said he was very glad for her recovery; but felicity at her appearance was exemplified by Bingley’s greeting. He was full of joy and made every effort to ensure her comfort. He sat down beside her, and talked scarcely to anyone else. Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with great delight.

Mr Darcy did not pay much attention to the tête-à-tête between his friend and Miss Bennet. He spent his time surreptitiously watching Elizabeth while pretending to read—as had become his habit. He wanted to get back in her good graces but was at a loss how to achieve that state. She had seemed to say with sincerity that he was a good man.

Lizzy noticed Miss Bingley was not as pleased as she was with her brother’s interest. After a few minutes, she asked her brother a question designed to break up his private conversation with Jane.“By the bye, Charles, are you really serious about hosting a ball at Netherfield? I would advise you, before you decide for certain, to consult the wishes of the present party. If I am not mistaken, there are some among us to whom a ball would be a punishment rather than a pleasure.”

“If you mean Darcy,” cried her brother, “he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins… but a ball we shall have.” With a smile toward Jane, he said with great emotion, “it is quite a settled thing. I will begin plans immediately.”

Miss Bingley was disturbed by her brother’s enthusiasm and renewed her opposition. “I should like balls a great deal more, if they were carried on in a different manner. They are often insufferably tedious and rarely an efficient venue for meeting new people. It would surely be much more rational if conversation, instead of dancing, were the order of the day.”

Darcy was thinking how enjoyable a ball would be if he could find a way to persuade Miss Elizabeth to attend. He spent some time imaging what she would look like in a ball gown. With all the boldness of his desire, he decided to make his feelings about this particular dance known. “Much more rational, Miss Bingley, but it would not be much like a ball. I, for one, am looking forward to the occasion.”

Miss Bingley made no answer. She seemed to be continually thwarted in her attempt to ingratiate herself to Mr Darcy and disparage the Bennets.

The following afternoon found Miss Bingley once again wanting to engage Darcy in conversation, and she settled on the topic she knew was one of his favourites—and one Miss Eliza could have no part in . “How are your children? Have they grown? Is it too soon to tell whether both of them will be tall like their father, or small like their mother?”

“Both of them will most likely be tall like the Fitzwilliams. Lewis will probably look a great deal like me. He has dark curly hair and dark eyes. Bethany has green eyes like Anne, but her hair is like neither her mother’s nor mine. She has light brown curls with red and gold threads running through them—much like Miss Elizabeth’s. She probably inherited the hair from someone in the De Bourgh family. Her hair is one of her most beautiful features.”

Elizabeth kept her head down and pretended to be engrossed in reading the copy of Marlowe’s
Dr Faustus
she had found in Netherfield’s library. Mr Darcy had agreed not to tell her about Bethany. Her fear that day had been that she might cry in his presence—now he was telling her about her daughter with strangers present. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge that her daughter had hair and eyes like hers, and this disclosure by Mr Darcy did indeed cause her to feel the pooling of tears. Luckily Anne had green eyes, so Bethany’s colouring would not be so very controversial. She had always assumed that she would look like Lord Wolfbridge, who in turn looked like all the Fitzwilliams, or so she had been told. She was troubled that Darcy had drawn attention to her hair colour, and wondered why.

Miss Bingley was not happy with the reference to Elizabeth. However, she wanted to continue the conversation with Darcy. “Is Miss Darcy much grown since last I saw her? Will she be as tall as I am?”

“I think she will also be tall like the Fitzwilliams,” Darcy replied. “She is now rather taller than Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s height, but of course, she is only fifteen, and it is possible she may grow a bit more.”

“I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so. Such a countenance, such manners and so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”

“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how all young ladies can have the patience to be as accomplished as they all are.”

Miss Bingley scoffed at the idea of all ladies being accomplished.

Bingley continued with his observations. “They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know one who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished.”

Darcy felt this a perfect occasion to force Bingley to think more critically about his current inamorata. “Your list is not very extensive, but I am sure accurate as to what most women achieve. Calling a woman accomplished should not be applied to women who deserve it only because they can net a purse or cover a screen—or even make fragrances.” He paused to observe Bingley’s reaction but missed Elizabeth’s. “I am far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general being accomplished. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen, in all of my acquaintance, who deserve such praise.”

“Nor I,” cried Caroline in her most ingratiating voice.

“You expect a great deal from a woman,” observed Elizabeth. She was feeling more than a bit of irritation caused by his careless references to her when discussing his children and his sister—and now he had disparaged Jane to Mr Bingley.

“Yes, I do expect a great deal.”

“Certainly,” said Miss Bingley, “No one can be really esteemed accomplished, without a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing and the modern languages. Besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions.”

Elizabeth choked back a laugh at Miss Bingley’s preposterous list. Her anger toward Darcy combined with Miss Bingley’s grating personality was causing her to have momentary compassion for her mother’s histrionics. Elizabeth knew she should keep quiet, but her natural tendency toward impertinence was getting the better of her. “I fear many of these requirements seem quite useless to me, and it would be a waste of my time to develop them just so I could be on somebody’s list of accomplished women—even if it was a short list.” Mr Darcy was given a sweetly arch smile before she spoke directly to Miss Bingley. “They only seem beneficial to enhance a woman’s marriage potential and remind me, I might say, of characteristics required in dogs or horses when one is looking to buy. I have chosen to develop other accomplishments that are more appropriate to my circumstance.”

Elizabeth decided to send a message to Mr Darcy to be careful though she continued to address her remarks to Miss Bingley. “Some of the accomplishments on your list, I have developed merely to enhance my own pleasure. That is why I learned to play and sing. I never go to assemblies or balls, but I still dance at home with my sisters and find practicing with them very invigorating; although I am sure my skills are not those displayed in the best ballrooms in London. Your mention of a certain manner of walking makes me add the need for endurance. One never knows when it might be necessary to walk from Grosvenor Square to Cheapside or to visit an ill sister.”

Miss Bingley looked noticeably confused by Miss Eliza’s remarks. What was she talking about walking from Grosvenor Square to Cheapside?

Darcy who had been enjoying her impertinence, blanched at her reference to her walk from his home to her aunt and uncle’s six years ago. He no longer thought her so clever. She was purposely baiting him, and not abiding by the agreement they had made at Oakham Mount.

He knew he would probably regret his remark, but he wanted her to realize how reckless she was being. “Yes I would agree being able to accomplish long walks is exceptional, and becomes even more appreciated as an accomplishment if it is unimportant whether she is wearing boots or slippers.”

“What think you of Miss Bingley’s list of accomplishments, Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth asked softly.

“I think it incomplete,” he said with gravity. “To all this she must add an unimpeachable character and not a trace of indiscretion, deception or disguise.”

“I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women,” said she after a moment. “I rather wonder at your knowing any.”

Miss Bingley realized that Mr Darcy and Miss Eliza were having a private conversation, and wanted to put an end to it. She directed her remark to Elizabeth. “Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the possibility?”

“I never saw such a woman, and I doubt any with that combination of characteristics actually exist, especially when you add lack of deception and disguise. I rather think being adept at those two skills is at the top of most women’s list of accomplishments. I am sure I will never know one that meets Mr Darcy’s requirements, but then I never visit the markets to acquire a wife or to be acquired. I may be hypocritical about some things, but never about that,” Elizabeth replied.

Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley were dumbfounded at where the conversation had gone, and both cried out against the injustice of Elizabeth’s implied doubt. They were protesting that they knew many women who answered Mr Darcy’s description, when Mr Hurst called them to order and insisted they play cards. As all conversation was over, Elizabeth left the room to check on her sister.

Mr Darcy and Miss Elizabeth both had a great deal of difficulty sleeping that night. Elizabeth had one of her nightmares. This night, she had the variation about the rich gentlemen at their club in London, laughing about the country girl who helped with her buttons. She awoke with a start, soaked in perspiration. There was no one to comfort her, as Jane was sleeping soundly in the room next door. Lizzy was afraid to fall asleep again, so she arose and sat in a chair by the dying fire. After a while, she decided to go down to the library and see if she could find something to read. It was well past midnight, and she assumed there would be no one about. She put on her robe and slippers, and made her way down the stairs.

Mr Darcy had made his way to the library a short while before. He had been tossing and turning for hours. His mind would not stop thinking about her, and he was anxious to find a way to have a private conversation with her. While going past her door, he heard her talking. She was saying,
‘Please, you do not understand. It did not happen the way you say. Please, stop laughing.’
The pleading pathos in her voice caused him to be concerned. He wondered who was in her room. It seemed an odd conversation to be having with her sister in the wee hours of the morning. He knew he could not intervene, so he continued on downstairs to Bingley’s paltry library. Hopefully there was something there to divert him.

He had stoked the fire, lit all the candles and closed the door. He found the tattered copy of
Doctor Faustus
she had been reading earlier in the day. Anne had told him, although she did not understand the reference, that Miss Elizabeth felt she was like Faust, and had sold her soul to the devil. He tried to concentrate, but his thoughts kept coming back to her. Just when he was about to give up reading and return to his bedchamber, the door opened and she was there in the same room with him. At first he wondered if he had dozed off and she was a dream, but her startled look told him she was real. She turned to leave, and he leapt out of his chair and took her arm and pulled her back in the room. The fear on her face made him release her immediately, but not before he felt a surge of annoyance course through his body.