“Yes, Mama,” replied Elizabeth. “I am well aware of how fortunate I have been.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded as if she had made her point. “Ithasbeen no less than a surprise,” added her mother in a tone that suggested exaggerated nonchalance, “for I might have expected Jane to be the first of you to marry. Sheisthe most beautiful and sweetest of my daughters.”
“With that, Mama,” said Elizabeth, looking to Jane, who was blushing at her mother’s praise, “I cannot disagree. Jane is the best of us to be certain.”
“Yet Mr. Darcy chose you,” said Jane, fixing both Elizabeth and her mother with a pointed glare. “Lizzy is no less worthy of the love of a good man than I am, or any of my sisters.”
Kitty and Lydia entered the room at that moment, their loud conversation announcing them before the door had even opened. What exactly made up worthiness, Elizabeth could not say, but she was of the firm opinion that both girls required substantial maturity before they would be prepared to receive any man. That they spent their days engaged in frivolous pursuits, flirting with the officers of the nearby regiment, and boasted of their conquests without a care for their reputations did not suit Elizabeth’s feelings. Both girls were intelligent, and their father provided serious thought and education, but Mrs. Bennet saw nothing wrong in their behavior, and Mr. Bennet did not provide as much guidance as they needed. Elizabeth hoped that after she was married, she and Mrs. Darcy could persuade her mother to rein in her youngest daughters.
“Mama!” exclaimed Lydia the moment she caught sight of them, “we had such a grand time in Meryton with the officers!”
“Oh, Lydia,” said Mrs. Bennet, proving that shedidsee something wrong with their behavior, though perhaps not for the correct reasons, “how I wish you would not go on about the officers. Your sister will marry a man of society, and I would not part with you to any man less than he.”
“But Mama!” cried Lydia, insensible to her mother’s desires. “I mean to marry an officer, for they are so handsome and dashing. There can be no better match for me than one of their number!”
“Nonsense, Lydia! This notion of marrying such a poor man as an officer is nothing but silliness. The officers of the regiment cannot even support themselves—how would they support you and any children you might have?
“No, my dear,” continued Mrs. Bennet when Lydia might have protested, “you shall have a man of society, a man who can support you. Mr. Darcy has many fine friends who would suit you admirably.”
Lydia huffed and threw herself into a chair, folded her arms, and fixed her mother with a mutinous glare. Mrs. Bennet, however, took no notice of her behavior, instead clucking her disapproval and declaring her certainty of the futures of all her daughters.
“Now that Mr. Bingley is paying such attention to your sister, I have hope that we will have a second marriage before long.”
“Mr. Bingley has made no declarations to me, Mama,” replied Jane, her cheeks again assuming a rosy hue.
“Not yet, Jane,” corrected her mother. “He has not known you long enough, after all. Mark my words, he will find himself in love with you before long and will waste no time in securing you for his wife.”
While it was so like Mrs. Bennet to declare such things without care for propriety, in this instance, Elizabeth could not disagree with her. Mr. Bingley’s interest in Jane was marked, and Jane, while modest and reticent, appeared to like the gentleman very well, indeed. As for the business of Mrs. Bennet’s assurances regarding her younger progeny’s future breaking the hearts of every man in London, Elizabeth could not say. William’s position was promising, for all that he was not of the first circles himself, but her sisters’ fortunes were no more substantial than what Elizabeth possessed herself.
As her mother so often commented, Elizabeth felt all the good fortune of her situation, for her future husband esteemed her enough to marry her despite her lack of those virtues that so many in society thought essential. Mr. Bingley seemed to be cut from the same cloth that produced Mr. Darcy, but could her sisters also hope to find such men for themselves? Herexperience had proven that it was possible, but she could not speak about how likely it was.
One thing was certain, however—if they did not modify their behavior, Elizabeth doubted any respectable man would look on them with anything other than derision. To protect William’s position in society, they needed to be reformed, and the sooner the better. Whether her mother would see the need was yet an open question. Elizabeth knew they needed to try.
DARCY’S HEART AND MINDwere full of Elizabeth, thoughts of her interrupting conversation with his companions during their brief journey back to Netherfield. While Elizabeth recognized her good fortune to be the object of the affections of such a man as Fitzwilliam Darcy, for his part, Darcy recognized she was a rare gem, the likes of which he would never find again. Elizabeth worried about their position in society with her family as it was, but Darcy was more concerned about his happiness and that of his future bride. The younger girls were what they were, and in Darcy’s mind were not beyond amendment. They could take thought for such matters when they were married.
Thus, Darcy spent the entire journey lost in thoughts of his beloved, confident that she would be his in every way in less than a fortnight. In this supposition, however, time would prove Darcy incorrect, for while they were at Longbourn, an express had arrived, containing news that would change Darcy’s life forever. For those few exquisite moments, however, Darcy remained unaware of the upheaval awaiting him at Netherfield.
Chapter IV
“What is it, William?”
Darcy looked up from the letter his butler had handed to him the moment he entered the house.
“An express from the north, from Pemberley, it appears.”
“Is there more of a connection between Netherfield and Pemberley than you led me to believe?” asked Bingley, his jesting tone an obvious attempt to lighten the sudden seriousness. “Or does your cousin wish for advice about estate management?”
Darcy offered his friend a half-smile. “Neither, I would imagine. Come, let us take this into the sitting-room, where I will attempt to assuage your curiosity.”
Though she hesitated, his mother did not gainsay him, her concerned look sending a frisson of unease up Darcy’s spine. An express appearing without warning likely presaged nothing good, though Darcy could not imagine why his cousin would have sent it in all this state. There was nothing to be done but to read the letter and learn what it contained, so Darcy led his companions as he suggested, sinking onto a sofa there and opening the letter. Nothing could have prepared him for what he read within its pages.
“My cousin has died!” blurted he with more shock than sense.
“Your Darcy cousin?” asked Bingley at the same time Darcy’s mother said: “Mr. Darcy of Pemberley?”
“Yes, it appears to be so,” said Darcy, skimming the letter. “The letter is from Colonel Fitzwilliam, Jameson Darcy’s cousin, the second son of the Earl of Matlock. He includes a few details, but the meaning is clear. Three days ago, my cousin died from injuries sustained after being thrown from a horse.”
“Fitzwilliam!” exclaimed Mrs. Darcy.
