Page 6 of Hidden Desires

“I will not endure a marriage of convenience,” Elizabeth said. “If my suitor and I do not love and respect each other, I will not marry.”

“I fear none of our daughters will ever marry,” Mrs. Bennet cried, despair rising in her voice as she worked herself into a nervous state.

Bennet chose that moment to enter the room. His wife turned at once to confront him. “There must be something you can do. If we allow this to continue, Hertfordshire will talk about us. I will not be able to show myself outside the estate. Oh, what is to be done?”

“I fear none of our daughters will ever marry,” Mrs. Bennet cried, despair rising in her voice as she worked herself into a frenzy, her needle jabbing uneven holes in the cloth.

Elizabeth shifted in her chair, uncertain whether to speak or remain silent. The sitting room door stood open, and she caught sight of her father lingering in the passage, listening in silence.

Her mother went on, her voice rising in pitch. “They are already whispering in Meryton. If this continues, I will not be able to show my face outside the estate. Oh, what is to be done?”

At last, she looked up and saw him.

“The situation is not as dire as you claim,” he said, stepping into the room and lowering himself into a chair near the hearth.

He stretched out his legs and regarded her with the air of a man who had all the time in the world to endure her complaints.

“Mary is not a withered old hag, and our Lizzy only needs a good man to ignite her interest. Love will find them soon enough.”

“Of all our children,” his wife complained, “only Jane has an admirer, and that through luck.”

“I presume you mean Bingley.” Bennet smiled at his eldest daughter, who had yet to join the conversation. “And what you call good fortune, I consider discernment. Among all those present, he found Jane the worthiest of his notice.”

“Nonetheless,” Mrs. Bennet said, setting her lips with determination, “we must urge him to call. Mr. Bingley needs to recognize Jane’s many fine qualities and consider her as a potential wife. Invite him to supper. The more time they spend together, the sooner he will ask permission to court.”

“You should talk to her first,” Bennet replied, casting a wink at Elizabeth. “It is her future you are planning, after all.”

Elizabeth watched her parents speak of Jane’s prospects as though her sister were not present to hear it.

Yet despite her mother’s fears, Elizabeth felt confident that Mr. Bingley’s interest in Jane was genuine.

That had been clear during his visit to the manor two days after the assembly, accompanied by his sister Caroline.

On that occasion, he claimed the need to consult Mr. Bennet about a matter at Netherfield. Once the obligatory pleasantries had been exchanged, however, he seated himself near Jane and paid her the greater share of his attention until the moment of their departure.

His sister, by contrast, had shown little fondness for the Bennet family.

Jane alone received her tolerance, and even then, only just. She managed the occasional smile when addressed by the eldest Bennet daughter but spent the visit in icy silence.

Her contempt for Mrs. Bennet was impossible to miss, a sneer curling her lips each time the woman spoke.

“Why throw poor Jane at this fellow when she can do that herself?” Bennet replied, winking at Elizabeth. “The last thing she needs is our help to encourage feelings he already possesses. I think it best if we let nature take its course.”

“But what if his interest fades and he transfers his affections to another?” his wife cried, her voice trembling as it rose. “Do you not care about her future happiness? I could not bear to see him courting someone else because you refused to help.”

“In that case,” Bennet said with a smile toward Elizabeth, “let him know when he returns.”

“That might not happen if we do not let him know that we approve of him calling,” Mrs. Bennet said, tears forming as she gave her head a vigorous shake. “Please, Mr. Bennet, consider Jane’s happiness.”

“Mr. Bingley is here,” Mrs. Hill announced as she entered, followed by the man himself and his sister, whose expression had not changed from their last encounter.

As with every visit, his entrance drew every eye. He stood an inch short of six feet, and moved with an air of cheerful ease.

But it was not his stature that set him apart. Mr. Bingley possessed features uncommon among men. Blond hair caught the light, lending his face a youthful brightness and a trace of mischief.

It was his eyes, though, that held attention, a piercing blue, full of warmth and unguarded delight at whomever he addressed.

“Welcome,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, her earlier distress forgotten. “It is so good of you to return. We were just speaking about you and your sister, and how much we anticipated our next meeting. What a pleasure to see you today.”

“Have I mistaken the date?” he asked, his gaze shifting from Elizabeth to Jane. Miss Bingley, standing behind him, rolled her eyes at her brother’s confusion.

Bennet stepped forward, a smile playing about his mouth. “No. The fault is mine. I forgot to tell Mrs. Bennet of our plans. Make yourself comfortable while I see to a few things.”

Mr. Bingley looked about for an empty seat. At last, as if no other choice remained, he selected the one nearest Jane, leaving his sister to cross the room and lower herself into a chair beside Mrs. Bennet. To Elizabeth, it appeared as though even that small effort displeased her.

“What a fine day,” he said as he settled beside Jane. “I welcomed Mr. Bennet’s invitation and have looked forward to this all week.”

“Forgive me, but what invitation?” Elizabeth asked. She could not recall her father mentioning anything of the sort.

“To go hunting,” he replied, as though their plans were common knowledge.

“At the assembly, I wondered aloud about game in the area, though I feared being new to the county would present difficulties. Mr. Bennet invited me to join him and promised to show me his favorite place. I accepted and agreed to come today.”

“So, your visit is no coincidence,” Elizabeth said, glancing at Jane with a knowing smile. Her sister turned her head and looked elsewhere.

“He asked me at the assembly. When I told Caroline, she decided it would be a good idea to spend the afternoon with her two newest acquaintances. She has expressed her fondness for you on many occasions.”

Elizabeth looked at Miss Bingley just in time to catch her eyes rolling in irritation. When the woman turned her gaze upon her, her expression reminded Elizabeth of the estate’s dogs when they caught sight of something crawling across the lawn—vermin to be dispatched without hesitation.

“It is nice to see both of you again,” Jane said, her smile lending truth to the greeting. “I hope you are enjoying your time at Netherfield. Seeing it occupied again, after standing empty for so long, makes me happy.”

“I am quite taken with the estate,” Mr. Bingley declared, “and had hoped to explore the grounds. Unfortunately, one matter or another draws me back to London, so I have not had much opportunity to do so.”

“The experience is well worth the delay,” Elizabeth said, struggling not to laugh at the grimace that crossed Miss Bingley’s face.

“Let us know when you have time, and Jane and I will accompany you. This neighborhood is beautiful, and I walk nearly every day. If you want the company, we would be glad to join you.”

Elizabeth cast a grin toward her sister, who stuck out her tongue the moment Mr. Bingley looked away. Though Jane disliked early mornings, Elizabeth knew she would not refuse the chance to spend a few hours out of doors if it meant becoming better acquainted.

“Forgive my curiosity,” she continued as the thought struck her, “but have you asked any of the tenants to show you the grounds? They would know the estate well.”

“Netherfield has few of them left,” he replied, a shadow passing over his expression.

“Many departed soon after I signed the lease. Those who remained do not know what drove the others away or will not say. It seems a rumor spread that I intended to evict them all and sell off the land. I tried to reassure them, told them the estate must support itself if I am to stay, but I think they still see me as an outsider who cannot be trusted.”

“Netherfield is beautiful,” Bennet said as he returned, carrying two fowling pieces. “I spent countless days hunting there in my youth. The former master had a son near my age, and the two of us explored every corner. The place always had more game than we could take, even with help.”

“There is little now.” Mr. Bingley frowned. “Mr. Garvey, the former gamekeeper, told me the property was over-hunted. With no one present to deny entry, too many took the liberty of laying waste to wildlife in the name of sport.

“When he told me, I banned hunting and fishing altogether to give the animals time to return. Their absence, I think, harms us all.”

“I hope you succeed,” Bennet said with a nod. “If you ever want help or advice, please ask.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Mr. Bingley replied. “And your charity. Such friendship is rare in London, though nearly everyone here has called to welcome me.”

“That is common in Hertfordshire,” Bennet said, handing him one of the guns. “We had better begin, or the birds will tire of waiting and fly off.”

Mr. Bingley’s puzzled look drew a quiet laugh from his companion. “The best time to hunt is early, before they rise in search of food, or now, as they return to their nests. Are you an experienced hunter?”

“I have some experience,” Mr. Bingley said, “though likely not as much as you.”

“Then I leave you in Mr. Andrews’ care. He is the finest gamekeeper in Hertfordshire.”

“I believe they are ready,” Bennet said in response to a signal from the boy waiting at the garden’s edge. “Come with me.”

He led Mr. Bingley out into the garden, where Mr. Andrews stood with two bird dogs and a case of supplies resting at his feet.

* * *

“The hunt will go until dark,” Jane told Miss Bingley. “That should give us time to become better acquainted.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Miss Bingley’s face, her brows lifting before her mouth tightened. For a moment, she looked as though she might object, but the hesitation passed. Elizabeth caught the irritation before the woman composed herself.

“Yes,” Miss Bingley said with a strained smile. “I look forward to it. Meeting Charles’s infatuations is always amusing. They are so numerous that I struggle to recall their names.”

Elizabeth listened in silence, her expression composed as she met the woman’s contempt with deliberate indifference. “Mr. Bingley seems a very personable man,” she said, unwilling to let Miss Bingley draw her into hostility.

“I am not convinced country life will suit him for long,” The young woman answered, her tone cool and deliberate. “He has so many dear friends in London that he will soon miss the stimulation they provide. We discussed it on the way here. While he does not wish to leave just yet, that day is near.”

Elizabeth saw the faintest crease form across Jane’s brow, though her gentle expression returned at once.

“Mr. Bingley should not remain at Netherfield if he would rather be elsewhere,” Jane said, her smile steady though her voice carried less conviction than usual.

“Judging from his enthusiasm upon arrival, I doubt he wishes to leave,” Elizabeth said, hoping to ease her sister’s concern. “If he hated life in Hertfordshire, I imagine he would have declined Papa’s invitation to hunt. As I recall, the suggestion came from him.”

“His sense of duty compels him to accept what he considers an obligation, regardless of how unpleasant it may be,” Miss Bingley said, a self-satisfied curl at the corner of her mouth distorting her features.

“It is strange, then,” Elizabeth said, tapping her chin with one finger, “that he spoke with such eagerness about spending the day with our father.”

“I am sure,” she replied, her civility long since abandoned, “once he returns to London and is reminded of all it offers, he will forget the thought of remaining in the country.”

The return of the gamekeeper, accompanied by a stable hand, halted Elizabeth’s reply. Between them walked Mr. Bingley, leaning heavily on their shoulders. His face was slick with sweat, and its color had turned a sickly white.

Bennet stepped in from the garden and held the door. “Take him to the library and make him comfortable on the chaise.”

“What did you do to my brother?” Miss Bingley cried, rounding on Bennet as she hurried after the others, with Elizabeth and Jane close behind.

“He attempted to jump a log, lost his footing, and fell. From the way his leg twisted beneath him and the pain he suffers now, I fear he has broken his ankle.”

“Have a carriage brought at once, so I may take him to London,” Miss Bingley demanded, her voice cracking with indignation. “He requires a competent physician, not whatever passes for medicine here. We will discuss your failings at another time.”

“That is enough, Caroline,” Mr. Bingley hissed through clenched teeth. “Mr. Bennet knows a reliable apothecary, and I am in no condition to endure a journey to London.”

“I have sent for Mr. Jones,” Bennet assured her. “He is gentle and capable. If all goes well, he should arrive within the hour.”

“Capable?” Miss Bingley cried, her composure beginning to fray. “Charles deserves the best care. A country tradesman pretending to be a physician will not do.”

“Caroline, wait outside,” Mr. Bingley said, his voice tight with pain and frustration. “You are not helping.” With an expression of wounded pride, she turned and left the room.

“Let us concern ourselves with your sister,” Elizabeth said, following her out. “You try to rest, if that is possible.”

“Thank you,” he said with a weary sigh. “I shall not forget your kindness.”

“If you will excuse me,” Bennet said, pausing at the door, “I have instructions for the gamekeeper. In the meantime, make yourself as comfortable as you can.”