Elizabeth bit her lower lip, focusing as she tried to reach the birdie in time — in vain, as it fell into the hedge and was gone before she could reach it. “Ah, well, I believe that makes you the victor, Miss Darcy.”
Her young friend laughingly agreed, coming over to join her as Elizabeth plucked the shuttlecock out of the bush.
“Oh, Miss Darcy! Miss Darcy?” From the terrace, Mrs Reynolds called to attract her attention.
“Yes, what is it, Reynolds?” Miss Darcy asked as they walked up the steps.
“Your guests are here, Miss Darcy. The Bingleys have just arrived.”
“Oh, I see. Thank you,” Miss Darcy said. Still in high spirits from their lively game, she seemed to view the prospect of more guests with pleasure. Much as she had enjoyed the acquaintance of Mr Bingley, Elizabeth could not be so enthusiastic. Surely Caroline Bingley would not be better disposed to her than she had been before. But as they walked to the foyer to greet the new guests, Elizabeth resolved to say nothing of her doubts to Miss Darcy. It would not do to dampen her friends’ spirits.
When they arrived, Mr Darcy, Mrs Annesley, Mrs Gardiner, and the children had all gathered in the foyer to welcome the Bingleys. There was an air of festivity as the doors were opened, and Mr Bingley entered. He wore a brilliant smile and went immediately to shake hands with Mr Darcy. “Darcy, my old friend. It has been far too long.”
Mr Darcy chuckled. “It has been less than a full season since we left you in London.”
“As I said, far too long.” He turned and greeted the rest of the guests in turn. When he came to Elizabeth, his delight in speaking to her was flatteringly obvious. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Bennet. I must confess I am far more curious to meet the rest of your family now that we have had the pleasure of becoming acquainted. But I fear your mother and sisters still donot come out in society. It is a pity, since I have been longing to meet them all.”
“Yes, I know they would enjoy your company. But as my father is no longer with us, my mother finds it difficult to go out as she used to.” Elizabeth hoped that someday soon, she could reintegrate them into the society that they had once enjoyed so much. But her mother was too proud, still reeling from the loss of Longbourn. In her embarrassment over being reduced to living in a cottage on the outskirts of town, she now felt she had to banish herself to the outskirts of society, too.
Miss Caroline Bingley joined her brother at that moment, giving a smile that did not reach her eyes. If Elizabeth were forced to guess, she was none too pleased to find her imagined rival at Pemberley.
“Ah, Miss Bennet, you are still here?” Though she spoke with a smile, her meaning was not lost on Elizabeth. “How pleasant it must be for you to stay with friends for such long periods.”
Did Miss Bingley mean she should feel guilty for accepting Mr Darcy’s hospitality? The contemptuous edge to her tone seemed to whisper that she was not worthy of such a favour.
“Yes, perhaps you heard of the unfortunate fire. The Darcys have been so kind as to let us stay here while my uncle’s house is being rebuilt,” Elizabeth remarked evenly. How she wished that Mr Bingley had not moved away to greet the children, leaving her alone to deflect his sister’s darts!
“How fortunate that you do not struggle with the idea of outstaying your welcome,” Miss Bingley said under her breath. She smirked and walked away.
It was obvious Miss Bingley felt threatened by her presence. At the thought, Elizabeth smiled to herself, for her jealousy was more flattering than anything else: Miss Bingley clearly had a far higher opinion of the likelihood that Mr Darcy might condescend so far as to consider her a potential bride than Elizabeth herself ever could.
She stood aside as the introductions were renewed between the newly arrived guests and the Gardiners. Unsurprisingly, given his cheerfulness and friendly nature, the children had immediately taken to Mr Bingley. Miss Bingley nodded to them from a distance, as did the Hursts.
The next few days at Pemberley were not so pleasant as they had been. Nor did Elizabeth think she was the only one who felt ill at ease. All the comfort and simplicity of their party seemed gone. Miss Bingley was so overzealous with her praise of Miss Darcy that it would have made a far less modest lady uncomfortable. And then there were her constant attempts at flirtation with Mr Darcy. Elizabeth did not think it was her imagination that their host neither welcomed nor enjoyed such blatant attentions.
On a particularly lovely summer day, they sat in the drawing room having tea. There was not much enjoyment in the party. As on every occasion of her being in company with him, Mr Hurst showed no interest in anything and spoke to no one. He only sat perpetually reading newspapers. Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley sat together, trying to draw Mr Darcy’s attention away from Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner, as though they thought speaking to a merchant’s wife and his niece to be beneath his dignity.
Elizabeth had been looking out the window at the delicious sunshine illuminating the garden, counting down theminutes until she could excuse herself and walk outside, when Miss Bingley suddenly and unpleasantly drew her attention back.
“Miss Bennet, how many letters you must have to write! Your fingers are positively covered in ink stains.” She flashed a sweet smile. “Perhaps you might like to borrow a pair of my gloves, if you have none of your own. I should certainly wear gloves if I had such a large correspondence.”
Elizabeth, surprised at being called out in front of the assembled company, hardly knew what to say. It took a considerable effort to master her temper before she could reply. “I do have an extensive correspondence, it is true. I am very fortunate in my friends. And with four sisters and my mother alone, it takes up quite a bit of my time.”
“Why not write one letter to all of them? I should think you would repeat much of the same information in writing to all of them separately. And then you might write more carefully and save your hands from the blight of ink stains.” Miss Bingley looked down her nose at Elizabeth, as though to underscore her contempt. She raised her hand and inspected her nails, showing the contrast between her perfectly soft, white hands and Elizabeth’s stained fingers. Adding insult to injury, Miss Bingley glanced pointedly over at Mr Darcy, making sure he was watching.
To Elizabeth’s eyes, Mr Darcy looked displeased by the contentious exchange, but Miss Bingley might very well have taken it for agreement with her estimation of Elizabeth’s shortcomings. Looking at Mr Darcy, Elizabeth did not think she saw the judgment in his eyes that had been present in Caroline Bingley’s.
“I suppose I might wear gloves to protect my hands, but I would find it wasteful to ruin my only pair of white gloves. It is easier to cover my ink-stained hands than it is to purchase new gloves. And when one values closeness and intimacy with one’s family, as I do with my sisters, one makes the sacrifices necessary to protect that closeness.” To her satisfaction, Elizabeth thought she had kept her voice entirely level, and with a tone of civility she did not really feel.
“I would think my hand should tire after writing as often as you must.”
Elizabeth weighed her reply. It was a little tempting to answer tartly in response. But no, she must think of the comfort of the rest of the party. They could not enjoy having such a tense exchange prolonged. If she could return the conversation to civility, it was her duty to do so. Besides, she had her secret to protect. “You have the wonderful opportunity to always have your sister and brother so close by. I do not have that luxury at the moment, and so I must keep up correspondence with my family via letter.”
Thankfully, Miss Bingley let the subject drop. Elizabeth could only hope she did not realise how greatly she had succeeded in discomfiting her. Miss Bingley must not guess how very reluctant she was to discuss her hands, and the source of the stains on them.
“It was a great pity that we could not meet the rest of your family while we were at Netherfield this last time, Miss Bennet,” Mr Bingley said kindly. “Such a shame that they do not go out any longer!”
“It is kind of you to say so. I am sure, whenever I am in the vicinity, and you are again at Netherfield, we may arrange a meeting,” she replied.
