Page 9 of Elizabeth is not a Bennet

Study

Netherfield Hall

The Next Morning

The curtains in the Netherfield study were a subdued deep red that blended well with the dark walnut desk and the russet carpet in front of the fireplace. Today they had been drawn back so that the occupants of the room might command a wide view of the vista of deep blue sky and sun-soaked parkland. One of the room’s occupants was taking greater advantage of this view than the other, shooting occasional wistful glances and sighs at the appealing panorama outside before bending his attention back to the ledgers spread out in front of him.

Darcy paused in his writing after one such moment of distraction and cast a sympathetic look on his friend. He, too, would like nothing more than to be out on his horse, enjoying the beautiful day. But responsibility took precedence over pleasure, and it was imperative that Bingley learn to manage his estate well. Bingley was a kindhearted and generous man, and he would not wish his servants and tenants to suffer from his own inattentiveness .

A quiet reminder returned Bingley’s wandering attention, and the two men worked together for some minutes before a flash of movement outside drew Bingley’s eye again. He looked up and out of the window and squinted for a moment before brightening noticeably.

“A carriage is approaching, Darcy,” Bingley said, standing up and hurrying toward the front facing window of the study.

“That is hardly unusual,” Darcy remarked drily, his focus on the papers spread in front of him. “You are popular among the local gentry.”

“Yes, and I am grateful!” Bingley enthused. “The local families have proven most welcoming and friendly.”

“Indeed.”

“Oh!”

Darcy lifted his eyes from a ledger to look at his friend. “Oh?”

“It is the Bennets, Darcy,” Bingley exclaimed and began brushing his coat, running careful fingers through his hair, and generally looking excited.

Darcy was on his feet as well and felt his own face flush in expectation. “Did you see Miss Stowe? ”

“I just observed Miss Bennet, not her cousin,” Bingley said absently, and then frowned. “Miss Stowe? Are you…”

“Shall we see our guests in the drawing room?” Darcy interrupted, annoyed with himself. He was interested, very interested, in Miss Stowe, but he did not want to talk about it, not with Miss Bingley already suspicious and thus her pursuit of him even more frantic than usual. He knew perfectly well that his friend’s sister had no interest in his own person, or interests, or abilities. She cared only about Pemberley and her ten thousand pounds per annum, along with the Darcys’ connections to the nobility.

He had, by this time, followed Bingley out of the study, down the hall, and to the front door where the Bennet ladies and Miss Stowe were handing over outerwear and hats to the waiting servants.

“Mrs. Bennet, Misses Bennet, Miss Stowe!” Bingley cried out. “It is so good to see you! Come in, come in!”

“Thank you, Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, her countenance alight with pleasure. “Good morning, Mr. Darcy.”

“Good morning, Madame, Misses Bennet, Miss Stowe,” Darcy said, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth Stowe’s face. The lady’s red hair was twisted up in a becoming knot, and her cheeks were delicately flushed from the chill. She was breathtakingly lovely.

“Do come into the drawing room and warm yourselves,” Bingley said hospitably and turned to his butler. “Gaines, are Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley in the drawing room?”

“I do not believe so, sir.”

“Would you be so kind as to inform them that we have guests?”

“Of course, sir.”

Bingley smiled at Jane Bennet and said, “I am certain my sisters will be here soon. Shall we?”

He extended his arm to the eldest Miss Bennet, who took it with a blush, and guided her toward the drawing room, with an obviously pleased Mrs. Bennet at his heels, and the other ladies trailing along behind them.

For the first time in his life, Darcy regretted that he did not have the easy charm of his friend. Elizabeth Stowe was within a few feet of him, and his heart was beating as quickly as if he had just run a race, and he could find nothing to say.

That in itself was not so surprising. He was not a loquacious man. Never before had he wished to speak easily with a young lady, though. Indeed, in the past he had generally been looking for an exit strategy in the presence of eligible young women. He was wealthy, well connected, handsome, and pursued remorselessly.

Now he stared at the red-haired beauty as she began following her cousins, tongue tied and disappointed in himself.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said, glancing toward him. “I hope you are well?”

“I am well,” he replied, conventionally and rather stupidly.

“I am glad,” she said simply and turned to follow her relations.

He broke out of his stupor and took two hasty steps to catch up with her, and finally his mind coughed up at least a few words.

“I understand you visited London recently?” he said.

“I did, along with my uncle,” Elizabeth replied. “We returned only yesterday evening, rather late, after an enjoyable few hours at Hatchard’s in the morning.”

“Hatchard’s!” Darcy repeated happily. He could talk about Hatchard’s all day, if given the option. “That is one of my favorite bookstores! ”

“One of your favorite?” Elizabeth asked, arching one eyebrow. “Now I am curious; what other bookstores do you appreciate in London?”

They had, by now, entered the drawing room, and Darcy waited until Miss Stowe sat down before taking his place across from her. “I have enjoyed walking Paternoster Row and the publishers there.”

“Have you been to Hookham’s library?”

“I have,” Darcy said enthusiastically, “and Dutton’s as well. I enjoy both thoroughly, though am not as fond of novels as my sister…”

The discussion continued to the pleasure of both parties, only to be interrupted some minutes later when Miss Bingley rushed into the room, and spying Darcy in eager conversation with Miss Stowe, hurried forward, exclaimed loudly her delight at the arrival of the party from Longbourn, and sat down next to Mr. Darcy, whereupon she immediately took control of the exchange.

“Miss Stowe,” she said, turning her attention on Elizabeth, “we were disappointed that you were absent from Lucas Lodge at the dinner party two evenings ago. I hope you are well?”

“Yes, very well, thank you,” Elizabeth replied. “My uncle and I were required to journey to London a few days ago and only returned yesterday. ”

“Which hotel did you stay in? I always enjoy staying at the Clarendon, which has very fine dinners.”

“My uncle and I stayed with my relations, the Gardiners, in Cheapside.”

“Cheapside!” Miss Bingley exclaimed. “I have never been there; is it reasonably close to the shops and bazaars and amusements?”

“It is, though my uncle and I only visited one shop, and that was a bookstore.”

Miss Bingley tossed her head and smirked. “I do understand, Miss Stowe, indeed I do. The gentlemen insist on their books and their sports and the like, and we poor ladies are required to follow in their lead!”

“Miss Stowe is, I believe, a great lover of bookstores,” Darcy offered.

“I am,” Elizabeth declared. “In that matter, my uncle and I are in complete agreement. But it was wonderful to come home as well, of course.”

“I confess to some surprise,” Miss Bingley said with dulcet tones, “that you would hurry home after only a few days.”

“Lizzy went to London on business,” Lydia Bennet said, plopping down next to her cousin and boldly inserting herself into the conversation. “Not that it did a great deal of good, since the solicitor could not even tell if she will inherit Ravenswood or not!”

This provoked a look of astonishment on Miss Bingley’s face, and Elizabeth said repressively, “Lydia, I am certain our hosts are not interested in the matter in the least.”

“Oh, I am quite interested, I assure you!” Miss Bingley said brightly. “An estate, you say?”

Elizabeth cast a reproachful look at her young cousin and said, “Yes, Ravenswood, an estate in Scotland, which I may or may not inherit when I attain my majority. The entire affair is uncertain, as my guardian knew nothing of the estate, probably because my mother passed on when I was a babe, and my father died very suddenly two years later. Thus, the arrangements for my care were confused. We are waiting on more information from Scotland, and I have no expectation of actually inheriting anything.”

“I suppose that your Scottish ancestry is responsible for your most remarkable hair,” Miss Bingley said, staring boldly at Elizabeth’s bright locks.

“I believe so,” her guest said with a smile. “I do not remember my mother, of course, but I hope that I resemble her in some way. ”

“And if it turns that you do inherit a Scottish estate, will you abandon Hertfordshire to live in the wild northlands, Miss Stowe?” Miss Bingley inquired archly.

“Since I have no confidence that there will be an estate to inherit, or at least one in good repair, I have not even considered it,” Elizabeth replied coolly.

“I own a small estate in Scotland,” Darcy offered. “One that my great-grandmother Darcy inherited. I have been there only once, and that six years ago, but I would be pleased to tell you of my impression of the countryside.”

“Thank you. That would be most kind. May I inquire as to the location of your estate in Scotland?”

“It is some twenty miles north and west of Edinburgh.”

“Ravenswood, the estate I may inherit, is twenty miles south of Edinburgh. I look forward to hearing your insights about the Scottish countryside.”

Caroline Bingley, seeing that Darcy’s attention had once again been stolen by Miss Stowe, watched with a pleasant expression while covertly clenching her jaw in frustration.

/

Twenty Minutes Later

Elizabeth bent away from Mary’s nudging elbow as the ladies donned their pelisses. Mr. Bingley was bowing over Jane’s hand before straightening to gaze on her raptly.

“It has been a great pleasure to see you, Miss Bennet,” he said and glanced around to include all her family. “Indeed, it is invariably agreeable to see all of you.”

“You are too kind,” Mrs. Bennet said, smiled brightly at the brother and sister. Miss Bingley returned the smile stiffly, her nostrils flared with displeasure.

“Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Darcy murmured, inclining his upper body slightly. “Misses Bennet, Miss Stowe.”

His eyes rested on Elizabeth for a moment, warmer than usual, and her cheeks tingled a little in response.

“Miss Bingley, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, thank you for your hospitality,” she said.

“You really must all return soon,” Miss Bingley said with strained politeness, “it is always a pleasure to see you. ”

“Why thank you, Miss Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet said enthusiastically. “Do go on, Lydia dear.”

She shepherded her girls down the steps to where the carriage waited, the white gravel bright in the cool autumn sunshine. Elizabeth glanced up appreciatively at the vaulted blue above them before the chill breeze chased her into the protective box of the carriage.

A jolt, and they were off down the lane toward home. Elizabeth looked out the window at the rolling brown fields, the green yew hedges, and the trees turning festive autumn colors, smiling faintly as her aunt’s chatter that rolled over them all. How kind Mr. Bingley was, how amiable, how handsome, how charming. And how he liked Jane! Not that he was being at all ungentlemanly, no, not at all, but his attentions were certainly marked, and yes, that had to mean something!

“Mr. Bingley is very pleasant, and Mr. Darcy, while quieter, is nice too, but I do not think much of Mr. Bingley’s sisters,” Lydia declared suddenly.

“That is not very kind, Lydia,” Jane said reprovingly.

“It may not be kind, but it is accurate,” Lydia replied with a toss of her blonde head. “Miss Bingley, in particular, always seems to be looking for ways to denigrate our clothing or our looks or our accomplishments. ”

“Is that why you told Miss Bingley of Ravenswood?” Elizabeth asked shrewdly.

“Yes. I know she and Mrs. Hurst each have a dowry of twenty thousand pounds, but if you do in fact inherit a Scottish estate, you will be even wealthier than she is!”

Elizabeth smiled gratefully but did not speak. It would not do to encourage Lydia’s unguarded tongue, but nor could Elizabeth in good conscience disagree with her young cousin’s analysis. It was painfully obvious that Miss Bingley was indeed proud and considered herself above her company. Elizabeth was unbothered; she found such people amusing, rather than offensive.

Her mind wandered to Mr. Darcy. She had guessed upon first seeing him at the assembly that he would prove to be like Miss Bingley, cold and aloof and unwilling to be pleased by the provincial locals. She had quickly revised that impression when he asked her to dance. He had not been outgoing that night, but she had seen him enough to know now that he was habitually taciturn in company.

When he could be convinced to converse, his speech was sensible, showing great intelligence behind those arresting dark eyes. He was not dull, nor had a tendency to prose on, but had a dry wit that Elizabeth fully appreciated. All she learned of him inspired her with respect for his kindness and his dutiful nature .

She had heard a great deal about Pemberley by now – in no small part from Miss Bingley – but the mention of his Scottish estate had come as quite a surprise to her. She wondered if he was as attentive to its affairs as he was to Pemberley. It seemed certain that he was, as such a conscientious man would see to the well-being of all his property.

Elizabeth thought again of that warmth in his eyes as he had bidden her farewell only a few minutes previously. It was not her first glimpse of such admiration, and her heart pattered in her chest. It was absurd – quite absurd! – to think he could mean anything by his attentions. He was very rich, with excellent connections and every prospect open before him. Her mere ten thousand pounds of dowry would not tempt him, and she had no great accomplishments to offer or magnificent beauty to entice. Perhaps he saw her merely as a harmless dalliance, a light flirtation to wile away a dull country visit.

Elizabeth did not relish the prospect of being a mere distraction to alleviate tedium. Moreover, neither did she welcome the prospect of more uncertainty into a life already in upheaval and confusion. She would, she decided, enjoy Mr. Darcy’s company as a friend, without reading anything further into his actions, unless he openly declared himself .

She glanced at Jane’s lovely profile to her left and wondered how long it would be before Bingley spoke of his interest in the eldest daughter of Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet was quite correct; Mr. Bingley very plainly admired Jane. In addition, while his sisters might be wanting in amiability, Mr. Bingley seemed genial and generous, and he would make an excellent husband for sweet, charming Jane.