Miss Darcy was apparently younger than me, handsomer than me, richer than me, more accomplished than me, and generally all a woman should be. I was initially startled when her name came up, but in the end, all I gathered was that Mr Darcy did not look at me peculiarly as he might if he suspected Jane’s involvement. He even used me to indicate her height.
At the end of the discussion, I at last thought Jane was safe from his detection; and I planned to tell her to court or ignore Mr Bingley at her own pleasure.
That gentleman tried to change the topic by starting another that did not leave Mr Darcy in a particularly good light. Mr Bingley suggested all ladies were accomplished (sweet but incorrect), while Mr Darcy said there were only a half-dozen accomplished women of his acquaintance (not-sweet and just as manfully ignorant).
Miss Bingley helpfully gave a list of requirements for such a creature which did nothing but confuse me. All five Bennet sisters combined would not make one accomplished woman in their minds, even after we threw in Charlotte Lucas and Amy Long. We might squeak by if I added Aunt Gardiner, but just barely. However, Miss Bingley could not seem to make up her mind if she only knew a half-dozen or hundreds. She vacillated between agreeing with her chosen prey and contradicting him, and she eventually did both, apparently unaware she reversed herself.
Her list was ridiculous as far as I was concerned. Where on their list would you find keeping the accounts for a household? Seeing to tenants’ needs? Treating a sick child? Dealing with disease in your poultry? Hiring, firing, and disciplining servantsor other staff? Keeping peace at a dinner party where a quarter of the guests had too much to drink?Correctly addressing your guests by name?Not to mention, if Miss Darcy was such an exemplar, one should includerunning!Either that or not getting mixed up with scoundrels in the first place.
When he added ‘extensive reading’ to the list, I simply gave up on the infernal man and his ridiculous ideas. The only woman who would qualify was someone raised with a governess stricter than an army sergeant, sent to a school modelled after a Turkish prison, and finally let into society at the tender age of forty—only to fail spectacularly at her first dinner party that served Sir William’s special punch.
I supposed I could comfort myself with the knowledge that I finally knew what would make a woman qualified to marry ‘a man of any consideration in the world’. I was happy to be relieved of that onerous chore but wondered if Mr Bingley would follow his own idea of what an accomplished woman should be or kowtow to Mr Darcy’s. It was a genuine concern if Jane eventually decided she liked the man.
Mr Darcy seemed to get along well enough with Miss Bingley, which was the death knell for any sensible man as far as I was concerned. She was obviously pining for his approbation, but he seemed less than interested. They had some sort of teasing, almost familial relationship that I could not fathom. I met them unexpectedly in the garden one day discussing his potential mother-in-law and other aspects of his domestic felicity in a teasing and confusing tone. I pitied the poor creature they were planning to attach to the lunkhead, but they looked chagrined when we unexpectedly met. Why they should be embarrassed by me overhearing them teasing each other about some woman I never heard of was quite beyond me.
The last day we sat in the library for nearly an hour of confusing perplexity (as if there was any other kind). Mr Darcyjoined me, and I just glanced up but resumed reading to see if he would do or say anything. He mostly ignored me and appeared to attend to his own book, but my impertinent streak took over (or, perhaps my desire to hear his sultry voice again, regardless of how confusing I found him).
“Mr Darcy, are you familiar with the Peaks District? I have some hope my aunt and uncle might take me there next summer, and I wonder if I will enjoy it, or if you could recommend areas I should try to see.”
He looked slightly startled at the question, but it was not as if I was asking for directions to Pemberley, so after a brief pause answered readily enough.
“Some say Pemberley is in the Peaks District, whilst others assert it is farther north. At worst, the district is within twenty miles, so I am quite familiar with it. I believe you would enjoy the area. My gamekeeper likes to say, ‘What are young men to rocks and mountains?’ and I cannot disagree.”
I gave a slight sigh, because the trip to the area was more a fond wish than a firm plan. Perhaps if Jane managed to make something with Mr Bingley, which seemed about half-likely, they might take me. I was certain Jane, or the Gardiners, were my only hope.
“I should like that above all things. I greatly enjoy the out of doors.”
“I noticed,” he said with a slight grin. His voice held no censure, and perhaps even a slight bit of approval.
He seemed to be on the point of saying something more but was hesitant, almost shy.
“Do you have mountains at Pemberley?”
I asked, under the theory that I had yet to meet an estate owner incapable of boasting about his home. I was beginning to think the man was not the ogre we suspected, though I was still not ready to blurt out the truth of Jane’s rescue. Men tended tobecome irrationally protective when they thought their families were at risk, and I had no idea whether he would consider Jane a risk or not. I was beginning to believe he merely reacted badly to surprises, but I was nowhere near ready to bet my family’s security against his. He could crush us with a few comments, while we could not touch him no matter what we did.
“We do. Our park is ten miles around, and I suspect it has enough trails to satisfy even you.”
The sentiment was sweet, and it almost sounded like an invitation to tour his home on the way through, but I had no intention of reading very much into it. Once again, whether it ever became an actual invitation seemed likely to depend entirely on Jane and Mr Bingley’s relationship, if any. A man who would allow Miss Bingley into his home would certainly welcome Jane and at least me, though I doubted anyone else in my family would pass muster.
“Just barely,” I replied cheekily.
As predicted, he indulged me with a treatise on his estate and the surrounding environs. When I mentioned my aunt was from Lambton, he had good things to say about the village, though I doubted he knew it well. He continued for some time, becoming more and more relaxed as time went on. I was very much enjoying the descriptions of the neighbourhood, not to mention the sound of his voice, and I had never been half so entertained in Netherfield.
After about a quarter-hour of the most pleasant conversation of our acquaintance, he seemed to realize he was being entirely too nice to me, or possibly too forward. He politely (though awkwardly) excused himself to attend to business. I knew an excuse when I heard one, but I refrained from saying I wished he would speak plainly. It was not as if I were free of prevarication.
I wondered if I would have liked the man if we met under different circumstances. Would he have slighted me at theassembly if he was not worried about his sister? Would Jane be attached to Mr Bingley now if she paid him any more attention? Would he be aware of her attachment if she did? My sister was difficult to read even for me, and I suspected she would need to be more forthcoming with her beau before he became yet one more man who got away.
It was all quite confusing. I could imagine a less tense situation where I was at least friendly with Mr Darcy, and I even hoped that could come about if Jane carried on with Mr Bingley. I could also easily picture the opposite. If my first inkling of the man had been his slight at the assembly, I could imagine repeating it to the neighbourhood with great relish and hating him forever. Jane’s encounter at Ramsgate changed everything, and I had no idea how things might end.
The next morning, I was more than ready to leave the house. Jane might have enjoyed another day in company with her beau, but with a mother like ours, it was best not to presume with respect to propriety. We most certainly did not want Jane or Mr Bingley to feelobliged, though our mother would not be in the least distressed by it.
I had optimistic thoughts about Mr Bingley, and even more confusing and contradictory thoughts about Mr Darcy than when I arrived. I was at least confident that Jane was safe from his satirical eye and even hoped he would not become an impediment to her acquaintance with Mr Bingley.
We returned to Longbourn, and I hoped for nothing more than some peace and quiet to discuss things with Jane and decide what to do about the Netherfield gentlemen. We were not to be so fortunate.
8.Exposition- Jane
Our hopes for peace and quiet upon our return to Longbourn turned out to be overly optimistic.
