Page 8 of Five Gentlemen at Netherfield (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

Drawing Room

After Dinner

The atmosphere in the drawing room was no longer a congenial one, and Elizabeth suppressed a grimace as Miss Bingley complained again about the weather and the roads that meant the Bennets could not return home.

Miss Bingley’s true nature was showing now, and her true nature had no patience with the inconveniences of living in the country, or having unwelcome guests, or apparently anything that did not suit her own desires.

Upon entering the room, Miss Bingley had taken the choicest couch, nearest the fire.

Mrs. Hurst had seated herself at once beside her sister, leaving the Bennets to dispose themselves as best they might.

Elizabeth sat as closely as possible to Mary, who was doubtless feeling the chill, and bit her tongue, scrupulously observant of the manners of a polite guest, no matter how her hostess might transgress.

“Now, I believe I heard that your family estate is entailed away from the female line?” Miss Bingley said.

“That is correct,” Jane said calmly. Elizabeth, who knew her elder sister very well, knew from Jane’s expression that she was annoyed, but there was no trace of her irritation in her mellifluous voice.

“Such a great pity,” Mrs. Hurst said. “It is regrettable that your ancestor made such a decision.”

“If our grandfather had known that my father would have five daughters and no sons, he might well have made a different decision,” Elizabeth said drily.

“Well, it is to be hoped that you can each find a good husband from among your neighbors,” Miss Bingley said in a syrupy voice.

“The Lucases are blessed with several sons, and I understand your family has long been on good terms with theirs. In spite of Sir William’s rather unimposing antecedents, I daresay he would make a charming father-in-law to one or even two of you. ”

Mary drew in a quick breath, and Elizabeth decided that silence was no longer golden.

“We need not marry, none of us,” Elizabeth said coolly, “thanks to recent bequests from our mother’s deceased sister.”

The Netherfield ladies exchanged startled glances, and Mrs. Hurst leaned forward and said, “Well, that is wonderful indeed. Your aunt was, erm…?”

“The widow of a wealthy man of trade,” Elizabeth replied. “She was not blessed with any children of her own, so upon her death, bestowed on Mary, who was her favorite, a fortune of five and twenty thousand pounds, and the others of us somewhat less.”

This provoked genuine gasps on the part of the Netherfield ladies, and Elizabeth felt Mary shift uncomfortably at her right.

Elizabeth felt a stab of compunction at Mary’s distress, but really, she was sick and tired of the supercilious remarks from Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. The truth was that the Bennet ladies were the daughters of a gentleman, while the Bingley fortune was derived from trade, and Mary had a larger fortune than their hostess and her sister.

The door opened at this juncture to reveal the gentlemen, with Mr. Bingley in the lead, his eyes fixed on Jane. Elizabeth deliberately turned away from Bingley’s sisters and toward the gentlemen, even as she cast up a prayer that the bridge would soon be fixed.

***

Darcy’s Bedchamber

Midnight

Darcy relaxed into the freshly aired linens of his bed as he mused on the developments of the day.

The already large house party had swollen further with the addition of the three eldest Bennet sisters.

He could not blame them for the situation, of course.

It was not as though they had sabotaged the bridge themselves, and it would be unreasonable to think that they ought to have refused Miss Bingley’s invitation.

Regrettably, it did not seem probable that the bridge would be repaired in good time.

The rain continued unabated, and the roads would be churned up with mud and thus impassable.

It seemed likely the Bennets would be staying more than one day.

But perhaps that was not such a bad thing as dinner had proven more pleasant than usual.

Miss Elizabeth was a voracious reader, without the dullness of wit which hallmarked most young ladies of the country – and even of Town, to be honest. He had, much to his own surprise, found himself enjoying their lively discussion of books.

Few women of his acquaintance could divert him so well.

Nor, Darcy suspected, was Miss Elizabeth intimidated by Miss Bingley’s and Mrs. Hurst’s haughty manners.

When the gentlemen had at last joined the ladies after a congenial half hour over port, the atmosphere between the ladies had been decidedly chillier than that of the recently quitted dining room.

A martial light had been in Miss Elizabeth’s eyes, and Miss Bingley had been grimacing with distaste, while Mrs. Hurst looked as if she smelled something unpleasant.

All three women had instantly wiped away such bellicose expressions from their faces when the gentlemen arrived, though Mrs. Hurst’s forehead was creased and Miss Elizabeth’s chin had shown a tendency to jut truculently.

Miss Bingley, more adept at schooling her face in the presence of a greater goal, had appeared all pleasantness, tittering at Lord Stanton and hanging on his every word and his arm alike.

With no real desire to remain in his hostess’s vicinity, and with Bingley wholly absorbed in speaking to Miss Bennet, and Richard gallantly chatting with Miss Mary, Darcy was left at loose ends and drifted over to take a seat near Miss Elizabeth and Sir Quinton.

The conversation between the latter pair was an interesting one, and Darcy had enjoyed listening to it, but he was also alarmed by Bingley’s obvious fascination with Miss Bennet.

The lady was unvaryingly polite but not overtly interested, while Bingley’s eyes had been alight with eager admiration.

It was a concerning state of affairs, and Darcy contemplated whether Bingley’s natural impetuosity needed to be reined in.

Darcy was not as concerned as he might have been, though, with his awareness that the Bennet ladies were reasonably well-dowered, and Miss Mary was genuinely an heiress.

Thus, none of the ladies were dependent on an impulsive offer from any gentleman to save them from the hedgerows.

While the interest of five thousand pounds was a modest sum to live on, Miss Mary seemed a good-hearted and dutiful young woman, who would not leave her mother and sisters hungry and unclothed.

It was a relief, because even should Bingley make an ill-advised offer for the beautiful oldest Bennet daughter, Miss Bennet need not accept unless she genuinely cared for the master of Netherfield.

Mrs. Bennet doubtless harbored hopes that one of her daughters would capture a male member of the Netherfield party, for she was a rather vulgar creature and would enjoy the benefits of her daughters being married to wealthy men.

Thankfully, the eldest three Bennet daughters all seemed to be sensible and reserved.

They had startlingly disparate personalities, however.

Miss Bennet was serene as a still pond on a sultry summer day, and Miss Mary was solemn almost to the point of being dour.

Miss Elizabeth, unlike her sisters, was lively and vivacious, speaking easily and with animation.

She had played Sir Quinton twice at chess and won both times, and with comparative ease.

Darcy had observed this with interest, as he himself was an avid chess player, and rarely found a worthy opponent who could truly challenge him.

If opportunity arose – if, for instance, the inclement weather and damaged bridge kept the Bennets at Netherfield for longer than anticipated – perhaps he could prevail upon her to play him a game or two.

It was a pleasant reflection, and he fell asleep wearing a faint smile.

***

Jane’s Bedchamber

Early the Next Morning

Jane tugged the heavy wool blankets higher up to her chin and snuggled happily down further.

The silk of Mrs. Hurst's spare nightgown shifted pleasingly against her skin, with the matching cap containing her curls.

The air brushing her face was cool, not yet fully warmed by the fire built only some half hour previous, a young maid having crept in to see to her duty to light the fire.

Jane lay still, watching the rain spatter against the window before racing in runnels down the pane.

She was grateful for the Bingleys' generous welcome of herself and her sisters, though in truth there was little else they could have done without being roundly condemned by the neighborhood.

No one would have forgiven the newcomers for putting the popular Bennet girls out in the rainy evening with the bridge washed out.

Unfortunately, the rain poured down unabated, offering no genuine prospect of returning home that day.

Jane did not relish spending more time in the company of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. She had always tried to view the world and all within it through charitable eyes, but even the greatest charity could not deny the blatant disdain that the two Bingley sisters held for all their company.

Miss Bingley, perhaps, veiled it less, with constant pointed remarks and sugary snide jabs at the three Bennets, but there was little doubt that Mrs. Hurst shared her sister's outlook.

Jane could tolerate their presence, but she did not enjoy it, and she did not wish to be subjected to it for another full day and night.

As unpleasant as the day would be with Mr. Bingley's sisters, it would be worse yet to spend it entirely in company with the master of Netherfield.

Not that Mr. Bingley was uncongenial, but he was far too interested, paying her eager attention and showering her with compliments.

This was all very well, but every compliment was of her beauty, and it was doubtful that he had yet taken stock of her character or personality.

He himself seemed kind enough, but Jane had no desire to encourage any man who would look no deeper than her face.

Fanny Gardiner had done exactly that, and Jane wished earnestly not to emulate her parents' unhappy marriage.

Of course, Mrs. Bennet would encourage her to try to snare any of the gentlemen who made up the house party, but none of them were that attractive to her, and she had no need or desire for great wealth.

Two hundred pounds a year was not a great deal, but Jane could make do if she chose not to marry.

The life of a spinster was not always an easy one, but would not an unhappy marriage be worse?

The door that led to a small sitting room opened, and Jane squinted. The intruder must be one of her sisters, who had both been settled in another chamber beyond the combined sitting room.

A moment later, she recognized the shape in the soft light of the fire and said, “Come in, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth, also garbed in nightclothes provided by their hostesses, hurried into the room and, at a gesture from Jane, jumped into bed with her sister and burrowed under the covers.

“Good morning,” she said, and Jane could not help but chuckle at her favorite sibling’s vigorous movements. Lizzy had always been an early riser with an annoying amount of energy, while Jane preferred to sleep in when possible.

“Did you sleep well?” Jane asked, and Elizabeth nodded and said, “Yes. The bed in the other bedchamber is easily large enough for both me and Mary, and the sheets and blankets were very comfortable.”

“That is good, since we will probably be here for at least another night.”

Elizabeth grunted her dissatisfaction. “You do not think the bridge will be fixed today, then?”

“It is still raining, so probably not. It must be dreadfully muddy out there.”

There was silence for a minute and then Elizabeth said, “There is another bridge, of course, roughly half a mile downstream from the main one.”

“True, for walking and for individuals on horseback. But we have no horses here…”

“Perhaps we could walk home?”

Jane wrinkled her nose and sighed gustily. “I know you could, but it is quite a long way. I would find it difficult.”

“Well, I am the only one who cannot ride a horse, so you and Mary could ride, and I could walk.”

“Only if Father sends us horses.”

“True, and Mother will probably try to prevent that, since she will wish for you, at least, to stay here for a time. Well, how tiresome this is.”

“So you wish to go home as much as I do, Lizzy?”

“I do, very much. I am grateful that we were not turned out of doors in the middle of a rainstorm, but it is obvious to me, at least, that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst do not want us here.”

“It is obvious to me as well,” Jane said. “Well, perhaps Mr. Bingley would be willing to let us borrow a couple of horses, and if you do not mind so very much, you could walk home?”

“I would enjoy that,” Elizabeth assured her.