Chapter 2
Miss Elizabeth Bennet in Hertfordshire
A breeze catching the reddish orange leaves in the first hour of dawn, Elizabeth Bennet paced under the large oak, all beauty ignored as her emotions shifted between amusement, affront, and rare half-moments of equanimity as Mr. Darcy’s words echoed within,‘She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.’
“Slighted by other men!” Elizabeth fumed, the sight of Charlotte coming down the sunless lane directing her steps beyond the leafy canopy.A third or more of the women at the assembly were without partners, and why? Because there were not enough men. Honestly, that man has to be the worst, nay, the rudest being anyone ever had the displeasure of knowing. ‘Not handsome enough’? Well, one must suppose he has not looked in a mirror of late.
Laughing silently at her own joke as she made her way to Charlotte’s side, Elizabeth, to her own mind at least, determined Darcy’s words far more amusing than they were unkind, and much worth the telling considering Charlotte had been unable to attend the assembly; her mother suffering an aching head.
“Truly, if all is as you believe, Mr. Darcy must be the most odious man to ever live–certainly, of any to come through Hertfordshire,” Charlotte teased as Elizabeth’s tale came to a close, a short pause following as she lifted a hand to her brow, the dark clouds a stark contrast to the changing leaves. “Though, I imagine his wealth does improve his character. A rich man can rarely be considered truly unlikable. Particularly a single man possessing not only fortune, but fine property and looks… Would that I might find myself as fortunate as to marry a disagreeable man in possession of such traits.”
Gaze cutting toward her friend, Elizabeth’s lips pulled upward as she directed them to walk with their backs to the growing wind. “You know you would never lower yourself to marry such a man. Indeed, like all women of sense, you would endure hardships of any sort rather than marry such a disapproving gentleman, fortune or no. My mother, however, would agree with you on all counts–Lydia and Kitty as well I suspect. Though, if the wealthy friend of Mr. Darcy is any indication, there is hope for us yet. A man of wealth does not have the requirement of being odious.”
“Ah, and you can determine already that Mr. Darcy is beyond any hope of saving and Mr. Bingley is perfection itself? As much as there is no vindication to Mr. Darcy’s insult of you, surely you must tell by my tone I do not think him the worst of men–not the best, mind you, but certainly not the worst. Besides,” Charlotte grinned, “I should have thought Mr. Bingley’s unending good humour too unvaried to garner your interest.”
“But not Jane’s,” Elizabeth answered, all mention of Mr. Darcy happily ignored. “And yes, I can determine Mr. Bingley’s character already. In fact, set anyone before me in a setting such as an assembly and I promise to sketch their character in but an hour. Less with persons who give no challenge; no effort toslowly bring aspects of their nature to the attention of others rather than lay them forth in one grand lump.”
Eyes wide, Charlotte let her hand drift to her side. “In but an hour.Anycharacter? Miss Uriah Lockwood, the heiress from London then? Or the journeyman we saw yesterday? True, you said a setting such as an assembly, but given that profession of yours, I wonder if any setting might do?”
Pulling Charlotte nearer the tall stone wall where they might enjoy some break from the wind, Elizabeth drew close to her friend. “I would not go as far as that, just any setting would not guarantee an opportunity to see someone interact with others. Still, I daresay a man interacting with those of his class and ideally, another, gives enough to determine character by. The journeyman, for example, there is a man who has no cares in the world; a ready smile, a kind word, the man has all the goodness of Jane and all the eagerness of Mr. Bingley. He would as easily find good in bad, though I doubt he has ever had to contend with anything too ill. He is too perfect.”
“Oh, Lizzy,” Charlotte sighed. “I happen to know that that man has endured a great deal more sorrow than the smile he forces indicates. His wife and child both died less than a year apart, leaving the man heartbroken. If anything, I suspect his behavior is half to ease his own sorrow and half to assure others less of their own. I fear your postulation sounds rather more like gossip than sound-proof of a man’s character; or, at least, a taking of what the surface shows and delving no further.”
Lips thinned, Elizabeth’s eyes cut toward the direction of Meryton. “Then take Miss Lockwood. She is a woman who sees herself in a light more of a painting than anything–one where the artist has shown the sitter to uncommon advantage. As to her view of the world, that is not the same. Outside of London orthe grandest estates there is minimal appeal to her sensibilities. The assembly last evening, for example, might as well be held, not in our modest assembly room, but amongst the pigs. I imagine her leaving tomorrow will allow great relief… for herself and us.”
Shaking her head, Charlotte considered her words with a sad smile, “I fear I have seen rather a different person. As much as she is as self-absorbed and proud as you claim, there is more. A woman hoping to escape the confines of her birth. A woman who, with each passing year as the unmarried sister of a man who might soon marry and leave her as a visitor in her own home, fears an uncertain future. One where not only are her hopes of advantageous marriage shattered, but even the life she has is pressed until she knows not the shape.” Laying a hand on Elizabeth’s arm she frowned, “Please, Elizabeth. You are young, and in spite of what Mr. Darcy said, an attractive young woman. What is more, you are clever. Do not use your cleverness to judge simply because one man did what no one else has. Who knows what fit of pique may have caused his words, just as your own has brought about these.”
Head lifting heavenward, Charlotte turned toward Elizabeth, “I do not say these things to hurt you, Mr. Darcy has done enough of that. Only think on my words and determine what sort of woman you desire to be. Now then, I must be off. Those clouds are sure to bring rain any moment, and I have to help Maria mend her dress–she managed to rip the hem when she and Lydia were cavorting at the assembly, and she insists on telling me all of last night’s going ons.”
“Then it shall be as if you had been there, for Maria never leaves any detail out,” Elizabeth said as she forced a smile, her head turning upward as raindrops began landing on her bonnet, theclouds a ready match for her mood. “You had best scurry along or you shall find yourself wet.”
“Just because you do not mind walking in the rain does not mean everyone enjoys it. Some of us have sense,” Charlotte laughed as she made her way down the lane.
Watching her grow smaller in the distance, Elizabeth’s face grew sullen as she pressed her back to the cold wall, the words of her dearest friend stinging even as their truth forced itself within.
Charlotte had no small amount of gall, accurately assessing the situation as she did. Well, perhaps not accurately assessing the whole situation, for,Elizabeth considered as the rain dampened her clothes,each determination of character had not been wrong, merely a portrayal of one aspect of each subject’s character, save for with Mr. Darcy of course. In him, no error had been made. His character had not needed to be sketched; he had announced it to the world.
Chapter 3
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy in Hertfordshire
Observing the rain-soaked lawn of Netherfield from his window, Darcy revelled in the quiet, the previous night’s assembly remarkably faded from his mind, though it required no specific memory to realize that it had been equal parts dull, disquieting, and cacophonous.
Shoulders lowering as the ache which began at Ramsgate and had been exacerbated at the assembly threatened to return, Darcy considered the source of his displeasure.If only more time might have passed before Bingley’s invitation had been accepted. Finding enjoyment lent challenge enough, being expected to cavort at some unassuming country assembly proved beyond the pale.
Frowning, the anger felt at Bingley and indeed the entire assembly for enjoying themselves so soon after his dear sister’s near ruination burned for much longer than it ought before good sense might return.None of them knew of Georgie’s plight, nor of his own inept culpability–the governess his choosing, the decision to delay joining her unpardonable, and Georgiana’s heartbreak resting on his shoulders. No. Even Bingley did not know; his thoughts turned to Netherfield and a handsome young woman.
Thinking on these things and the evening the night prior, a pair of fine eyes and a kind, mischievous smile painted a rather pretty picture in his mind.Perhaps the incident with Georgiana is why he chose not to do as Bingley suggested and dance with Miss Elizabeth? Indeed, she, though not in possession of the same fashionable beauty of her elder sister, proved quite fine.
If only her prospects and family were not leagues beneath him, he could well find himself tempted to strike up an acquaintance… not that he could not do so now. Truly. He could strike up an acquaintance. Polite conversation. Infrequent interactions. These, she would not mistake for an interest in courtship; no, a woman of genteel breeding would know not to expect more. She would have the good sense to look elsewhere for a husband and be grateful for the advantages that friendship with a man of his station might bring.
Yes. He would proffer his friendship, and of that she would be most grateful.
A half-knock at the door followed by the eager voice of Bingley filled the air. “Care for a short ride? I was thinking about returning Mr. Bennet’s courtesy of calling upon me when I first arrived.”
“I shall be down momentarily,” Darcy returned, his face brightening as he pulled on his boots himself instead of calling for his valet.
A swift ride, an escape from Netherfield, and a chance to proffer his friendship all in one? Bingley could scarcely know how pleasant his decision might prove for them both. Well, if he managed to keep Bingley from becoming too involved with Miss Bennet–it would be a sad thing to see a repeat of last autumn.
