Page 26 of Saving Anne de Bourgh

S ome things, it seemed, never altered, regardless of events that might make them seem unlikely to continue. While the sentiment Darcy felt upon returning to Netherfield Park that day echoed Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s upon her return from Kent, his opinion was as true as hers had been. This time, however, the winds of change were blowing, and while he could not know if the situation would transform for either of them, he hoped that at least the seed they had planted in Mrs. Bennet’s mind that morning would bear fruit. In marrying Miss Bennet, Darcy understood the need to take her family as his, but that did not change the absolute requirement to improve the behavior of certain members.

The return to Netherfield, however, brought new challenges, and the behavior of the Bennets necessarily retreated to the back of his mind. It was not their conduct that brought these recollections to mind.

As was typical, the company often gathered after a morning visit, and that day was no different from any other. What changed was his sister’s presence, her excitement for the new acquaintances she had made that day, and her expectations for future association with them. The presence of Lady Catherine, Fitzwilliam, and Anne was also different from the previous autumn when Darcy alone had been present.

The older members of the family watched indulgently as Georgiana chattered about her friends, though there was a pinched quality about Lady Catherine’s eyes as if some vestige of the proper distance between the classes still lingered. Lady Catherine appeared to have the sense not to make an issue of it, given Darcy’s stated intention to make Miss Elizabeth his wife; it was pointless to protest when such associations were inevitable. There was one, however, that did not appreciate their neighbors and, against any reasonable hope, had not yet accepted the futility of her designs.

“I hope we may continue our association, Brother,” said Georgiana at length, after she had extolled what she believed to be her new friends’ virtues to the skies. “Kitty and Lydia appear to be so much fun, and Mary shares a common interest in music with me. I anticipate coming to know them better.”

“What of the elder sisters?” asked Darcy, amused. “They are most often praised as the jewels of the family.”

Georgiana ignored Miss Bingley’s snort—it appeared she was not yet ready to interject her opinion. “Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth appear to be everything lovely.” The girl grinned. “I understand your interest in Miss Elizabeth, for you spent the entire visit by her side! With so little opportunity to speak with either, I cannot claim any special connection yet.”

This proved too much for Miss Bingley’s sensibilities. “Dearest Georgiana,” cooed she, immediately putting Georgiana on her guard, “you should take care speaking of such things as ‘special connections’ and unwarranted ‘interest.’ The Bennets are not a family you would wish to emulate.”

“My brother introduced me to their acquaintance,” was Georgiana’s defensive reply. “I cannot consider them unsuitable. You may speak of unbecoming behavior, but I saw little of it. Besides, even if you expect them to misbehave, as you insinuate, I am not so lost to poor behavior that I would allow them to affect me.”

Darcy watched with pride in Georgiana’s convictions, knowing this association with the Bennets and her desire for friends drove her defiance. Miss Bingley, it appeared, expected a retiring Georgiana who would not respond if she did not agree, for her shock at being so contradicted was unmistakable.

“Georgiana knows how to behave,” added Lady Catherine.

For a moment, Darcy mused at what the lady would say if she knew anything of Georgiana’s adventure with George Wickham the previous summer. Nothing good for certain, as that was the reason they kept any hint of it from her ears.

“No one is questioning your ability to practice restraint, Georgiana,” said Miss Bingley, eager to pull back from her perceived error. “Certainly not I, for I know your qualities.”

“Then what was the point you were trying to make, Caroline?” asked Bingley.

Miss Bingley shot her brother a look and then shrugged as if the matter was of supreme indifference to her. “It is simply a surprise that a gentle family is not conversant with such things as training their progeny to move in the world in which they live. Some might say that they are poor gentlefolk if they do not understand such basic facts.”

“It is not so unknown as you might think, Miss Bingley,” said Lady Catherine. “I have seen the same in many such families; where the means do not exist to hire the appropriate instructors for their children, poor behavior can sometimes result.”

Lady Catherine shrugged. “I act to assist, to place guidance with certain families, commensurate with their ability to afford it. In other cases, the family does well to educate their children themselves, though I do not recommend it in general.”

Miss Bingley snorted with utter disdain. “One cannot look at the Bennets and suggest they educated their children as they ought. The behavior of the youngest Bennets put an end to any such notions the moment they erupt in loud giggles or chase after any man they espy who has the misfortune to be wearing red.”

“Those girls are yet young and immature, Miss Bingley,” said Fitzwilliam.

“They are fifteen and seventeen,” rejoined Miss Bingley, “and if I am not mistaken, are near their birthdays. At that age, they should have some measure of understanding.”

“As I advised Mrs. Bennet,” said Lady Catherine, “I believe they would do well with the guidance a companion would provide. When next I speak to the lady, I shall be more explicit.”

The notion of Lady Catherine exercising greater frankness brought much amusement to Darcy, and by the grins of his sister and cousins, he expected they were considering the same. Miss Bingley, however, appeared determined to press her point, for she simpered at the lady.

“It is well that you are so generous with your advice, Lady Catherine. Unfortunately, a companion would only improve the youngest, for the eldest are already set in their ways. Miss Bennet is a good sort of girl, but she is also dull and possesses little to recommend her, while Miss Elizabeth is uneducated, trying to show the world that she knows many things through cleverness, which she does not lack. Miss Mary is at the very edge of being a misanthrope, and every time she opens her mouth, she spouts some homily designed to shame others with her prudish ways.”

“This is not nearly an accurate portrait of Mary at all!” exclaimed Georgiana. “I had a most engaging conversation about our favorite composers, and she was not at all lacking.”

“And Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet are not deficient,” added Darcy. “While there are many accomplishments young ladies can claim, as I said in the autumn, extensive reading is one of those that broadens the mind of anyone. In that, Miss Elizabeth is not deficient.”

“That anyone could say she possesses little education is farcical,” said Fitzwilliam. “I declare I could raise any subject with Miss Elizabeth and could speak intelligently about it, even if she is not familiar with its substance.”

“I too must add my voice to my family’s,” said Lady Catherine, nodding to Darcy. “While I sometimes espouse concerns about Miss Elizabeth’s forthrightness, she is quite intelligent and capable. I know less of her sisters, but they appeared good sorts of girls, though I think a few accomplishments would not go amiss.”

“If you will pardon my saying it,” said Bingley, “there is nothing amiss with Miss Bennet. She possesses accomplishments, talent, intelligence, wit, and understanding sufficient for any man, and more particularly, for me.”

“Yes, Mr. Bingley,” said Lady Catherine, a hint of wryness entering her reply. “We all understand your affinity for Miss Bennet. There is nothing the matter with her manners, for she appears a most estimable lady.”

“This is most surprising,” said Miss Bingley, giving the company a reproachful look. “Had I proof of the bewitchment the Bennets wrought upon you all I might understand what I am hearing, but this is beyond my expectation. You all have the benefit of the highest society—can you honestly say the Bennets meet the standards of behavior to which we are all accustomed?”

“In saying that, Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, unwilling to allow her attacks but not wishing to go so far as he had when he reprimanded her before, “you suppose we are all enamored with society. The so-called high society to which you refer is not at all agreeable to me.”

“Indeed,” said Fitzwilliam. “Many of those of high society are debauchers, behaving in a manner repulsive to anyone of good morals. And arrogance and conceit are hallmarks of the rest, looking down on those about them for little more reason than their fortunate birth.”

“In short, Miss Bingley,” said Lady Catherine, eyeing Miss Bingley with distaste, “we understand propriety. Good behavior is not confined to the higher classes, nor is it absent from those lower. I already stated my agreement about the younger Bennet girls; I hope Mr. and Mrs. Bennet will take steps to rectify that situation. Yet I can see nothing in the elder to give me pause. It is best to focus more attention on one’s own situation and conduct rather than to judge others harshly.”

That comment silenced Miss Bingley neatly, for she did not trouble herself to impose her opinion again. As she had to know she could not impose herself on Darcy or provoke his admiration, whence these attacks sprung he could not say, unless she meant to prevent Miss Elizabeth from capturing the prize she had failed to secure. Or perhaps it was to dissuade her brother from offering for Miss Bennet; if that was her ploy, her efforts were doomed to failure, given Bingley’s ardent attention to Miss Bennet.

For some time after, the company stayed together, speaking quietly amongst themselves, or engaging in whatever interested them. Georgiana went to the pianoforte in the adjacent room and played quietly, unsurprising given her affinity for the instrument. The interesting development was Miss Bingley’s disinclination to join her. Darcy had a book at hand and focused on its pages for a time, though he was aware of what happened in the room about him. At length, Miss Bingley excused herself to see to something of the house or the evening meal—Darcy was not at all certain she had not contrived it to enable her to leave the room. Mrs. Hurst, who might have followed her in other circumstances, stayed there, though that may be as much because Hurst was quietly talking with her as from any inclination.

“Though I might wish better for you, Darcy,” said Lady Catherine when Miss Bingley had gone, “I commend you for choosing the better-behaved woman. It is unfortunate, but I often observe that those whose conduct is suspect often accuse others of that same failing. It is a characteristic of the lower classes who strive to emulate those who are their betters.”

Fitzwilliam was almost choking on his tongue while trying to restrain his laughter, while Anne’s eyes were suspiciously bright. There was nothing he could do to stop her when she wished to have her say, so he refrained from making the situation worse. While Bingley had grounds to take offense, he proved his genial nature by grinning.

“I cannot agree more, Lady Catherine. I have often thought it would do my sister good to be taken down a peg or two. If nothing else, it would be much easier to endure her.”

That comment provoked Fitzwilliam to lose the battle with his laughter, as he allowed it free rein, as did several others. The comment scandalized Mrs. Hurst.

“Charles! Do not speak of Caroline in such a way!”

“Why not?” asked Hurst, his merriment clear in the shaking of his shoulders. “It is nothing less than the truth.”

“Caroline will be impossible,” muttered Mrs. Hurst, shaking her head in dismay.

“Not if you do not inform her of this conversation,” said Bingley. “If asked, I suspect she would say she preferred not to know.”

Mrs. Hurst appeared to agree, for she looked contemplative thereafter, while Hurst continued to whisper in her ear. Bingley, Darcy noted, began a conversation with Lady Catherine, in which his sister appeared to be a prominent subject. The notion of Lady Catherine speaking to Darcy’s close friend about his sister’s behavior and giving advice concerning how to control her struck Darcy as hilarious. It was also not a situation he wished to investigate too closely, so he contented himself with his book, determined not to become involved.

The rest of that day, Elizabeth noted her mother’s pensive demeanor, and how she regarded her daughters as if she was seeing them for the first time. Perhaps it was the first time, for as Elizabeth had noted many times, Mrs. Bennet had never had the firmest grasp of propriety herself. Before that moment, she never had a reason to want to change her daughters’ behavior, for she had seen nothing wrong with it.

That afternoon and evening, however, Mrs. Bennet saw something she had not before, would not have even noticed, let alone disapproved of had Lady Catherine not pointed it out to her.

Elizabeth did not miss the intent scrutiny of the younger girls versus herself and Jane, the little grimaces her mother made as some part of Lady Catherine’s concerns manifested themselves in her younger daughters’ behavior. Several times Elizabeth thought her mother might say something, but she remained quiet and watchful. The girls were oblivious, and Mary was considering thoughts of her own, though Elizabeth knew Jane understood. Jane was also not one to say much, her agreement with Elizabeth’s intention to provoke Lady Catherine’s support notwithstanding.

While Elizabeth noted her mother’s preoccupation, she did not remain unaware of what else was happening in the room. Georgiana Darcy had impressed Kitty and Lydia, and they were not hesitant about sharing their opinions.

“Georgiana could do with a little more liveliness,” opined Lydia on one occasion, “but I am pleased to have made her acquaintance.”

“She is unlike any other girl I ever met,” said Kitty, a hint of astonishment hovering about her.

Sensing an opportunity to point a few truths out to her sisters, Elizabeth asked: “What do you mean, Kitty?”

Kitty started as if she had not expected such a question. At Elizabeth’s encouraging look, the girl ducked her head in embarrassment.

“I am not certain I can explain. There appears to be an air about her, something of dignity I have never seen in another girl her age.”

“Well, of course, there is!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “To be a member of such a family, she must possess sterling attributes that are the envy of many!”

Elizabeth stifled a laugh at her mother’s words, for they reminded her of a certain parson of her acquaintance, one who might have made exactly the same comment.

“And yet, I would remind you, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Bennet, who was with his family, “that she is naught but a girl. The behavior of those of higher society is often much worse than you might expect. I attribute Miss Darcy’s excellent bearing as evidence of her guardians’ efforts rather than her birth.”

“It is the age-old question, is it not?” said Elizabeth. “Nature versus nurture?”

“Yes, I suppose you must be correct, Lizzy,” replied her father. “Both influence a person’s character. Nurture can lead a person to character faults or an elevated opinion of oneself, but nature is attributable entirely to the sort of person we are. That might come from a certain extent to our descent but is largely an individual quality.”

“Perhaps you are correct, Mr. Bennet,” said Mrs. Bennet, looking at her husband strangely. “Then what about our girls?”

“What about them?” asked Mr. Bennet. “They are what they are, Mrs. Bennet. The younger girls will alter as they age and maturity takes hold of them, I am sure.”

This did not fit Mrs. Bennet’s feelings on the occasion, not with Lady Catherine’s comments still ringing in her ears. Mr. Bennet, however, took no notice of her, and Mrs. Bennet was not yet ready to press her point.

“I too esteemed Georgiana very much,” said Mary to Elizabeth a little later in the evening.

Why Mary had spoken so softly to avoid being overheard, Elizabeth could not say. If she had to guess, she might suppose it was to avoid Lydia’s notice, who lost no opportunity to tease and insult her elder sister. That Mary usually ignored her did not mean she wished to hear mean-spirited attacks from so heedless a girl.

“We spoke of our preferences in music,” continued Mary, introspection settling over her. “I hope to persuade her to play for me when the opportunity presents itself.”

“She does not wish it?” asked Elizabeth.

“It seems she rarely plays in front of anyone other than her brother, and occasionally her uncle’s family.”

Elizabeth nodded, for it was what she might have expected from so reticent a girl. “I wonder if we should feel slighted. Miss Bingley spoke of her appreciation for her performance.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “I must think that Miss Bingley’s account is suspect.”

“Yes, Mary, I expect you are correct.”

“Where did she make such a statement?” asked Mary, regarding Elizabeth with no little curiosity.

“As I recall, it was when I stayed at Netherfield last year when Jane was ill.”

“Then perhaps she was attempting to project intimacy that does not exist,” said Mary. “Georgiana did not speak openly, but I had the distinct impression she does not like Miss Bingley much.”

“For that, I cannot blame her,” replied Elizabeth. “There are few ladies I like less than Miss Bingley.”

Mary nodded but appeared distracted. Elizabeth watched her, wondering what she was about. Of all the Bennet sisters, Mary was the most taciturn, and she was also the only sister without a natural companion among the five, for Kitty and Lydia were always together, while Jane and Elizabeth were each other’s closest confidantes. Mary had always been alone in their little family, though Elizabeth and Jane had often attempted to include her as much as they could. Mary, unfortunately, was not one to accept such inclusion easily, for her quirks often pushed others away.

“Do you suppose you will marry Mr. Darcy?”

Much as the question surprised Elizabeth—to say nothing of Mary’s insight—she supposed most of her family had noticed the gentleman’s interest by now. There was no reason to push back and claim ignorance, especially with Mary; as the quietest sister, Mary was observant, having had many occasions to hone her ability.

“That is premature, Mary,” said Elizabeth. “The gentleman has just come back after a long absence, and his demeanor was not the most welcoming when he was here before.”

“Did you not see him in Kent?” asked Mary shrewdly. “The gentleman speaks to you as if your acquaintance is well developed.”

“I did see him there,” confessed Elizabeth. “I shall not say he showed himself to better advantage there than he did in Hertfordshire, though as he was among his family, I believe I understood him better.”

“Oh, la!” exclaimed Lydia, proving she had overheard something of their conversation. “Who would want to marry dull Mr. Darcy? Why, I should much prefer to marry an officer and live a life of adventure!”

“Any woman would count themselves lucky to be singled out by the gentleman!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet.

“But Mama!” gasped Lydia, horrified. “Did you not rail against Mr. Darcy and call him the most odious man of your acquaintance?”

“Mr. Darcy did not present himself to the best advantage,” said Mrs. Bennet, though her admission was grudging. “Now he is more amiable, and his sister is everything lovely. I must suppose something was weighing on his mind when he was here last. Or perhaps his family allows him to feel more comfortable.”

This did not fit Lydia’s feelings, for she protested further, earning her mother’s reproof. That, of course, led Lydia to sullenness, which provoked Mrs. Bennet to regard her youngest with more asperity.

“If you cannot speak well of Mr. Darcy,” instructed Mrs. Bennet, “then you should not speak of him at all. He is paying attention to your sister and is a man in possession of a handsome estate. Say nothing to push him away, Lydia, for none of us could have expected a man of his prominence to pay attention to one of you.”

That silenced Lydia, though she cast injured looks at her mother, who returned them with pointed glares. Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Mary and chuckled. Trust Mrs. Bennet to consider a man’s position in society and wealth before all other concerns! Then Elizabeth turned her attention back to her conversation with Mary.

“Why this interest in Mr. Darcy, Mary?”

While she appeared embarrassed, Mary did not hesitate to answer. “It may be foolish, Lizzy, but I enjoy Georgiana’s company and would like to maintain her friendship.”

“Why you think such a girl would be interested in you is beyond my understanding,” spat Lydia.

“Lydia!” cried Mrs. Bennet.

“And you suppose she would prefer you ?” rejoined Mary. “Unlike some I could name, Georgiana has more than a bit of fluff in her head and does not feel the need to chase after officers every moment of the day.”

Lydia drew herself up for an impressive retort when Mrs. Bennet again inserted herself between them.

“That is enough, Lydia.”

The daughter most likely to escape her mother’s censure regardless of the situation, Lydia looked at her and pouted. Mrs. Bennet did not give an inch.

“From what I can see,” said Mrs. Bennet, “Mary got on well with Georgiana.”

“You suppose I did not?” grumbled Lydia.

“No, I do not suppose it,” said her mother. “There is no need to disparage your sister. You can all have friendly relations with Miss Darcy, particularly if Mr. Darcy persuades your sister to accept him.”

A thought came to Mrs. Bennet, and she scowled at Elizabeth. “I trust, daughter, that you will not reject Mr. Darcy out of hand like you did with Mr. Collins.”

“I make no promise to accept him,” replied Elizabeth. “And I will point out that he has not as yet made any overt gestures toward me.”

Mrs. Bennet’s frown deepened, provoking Elizabeth to reassure her.

“Mama, do you suppose that Mr. Darcy is like Mr. Collins, of all men?”

“How do you mean?” demanded a suspicious Mrs. Bennet.

“Well, if nothing else,” said Lydia, “Mr. Darcy bathes occasionally. If Mr. Collins has ever encountered a bar of soap, he did not put it to any use.”

Kitty giggled, crying: “Mr. Collins was rather malodorous!”

“Not only that,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy is intelligent, proper, and no woman could compare him to Mr. Collins in face and form.”

Mrs. Bennet regarded Elizabeth for a long moment and then nodded. “Yes, Mr. Darcy is a handsome man. There is no denying that.”

“Then it would be best to allow the subject to rest, Mama,” said Elizabeth. “I will not reject him out of hand, but I will not accept him without coming to know him better either.”

“Did he not say you were ‘not handsome enough to tempt him?’” challenged Lydia.

“He did !” said Mrs. Bennet, her eyes widening.

“If you watch him now,” said Jane, “it is beyond dispute that he has repented of that position. He seems to like Lizzy very well now.”

That, it seemed, was enough for Mrs. Bennet, for she nodded with satisfaction. Elizabeth turned back to Mary, and for a time they spoke of Georgiana and Mary’s desire to maintain a friendship with her, though that consisted more of Mary speaking of her hopes and Elizabeth listening. It was, she supposed, something of a departure for Mary, who had always seemed self-sufficient. That she had found a girl she thought well enough to wish for a friendship was welcome, for perhaps it would bring Mary out of her shell.

As for Mrs. Bennet, she kept a close watch on all her offspring that evening, though she watched Lydia and Kitty more particularly. Lydia’s jibes at Mary were not at an end, and every so often she made some cutting remark, which Mary or Elizabeth parried calmly. Lydia did not notice, but every time she spoke, her mother’s expression became a little darker. Finally, her mother’s temper appeared to reach a breaking point when Kitty and Lydia were giggling and carrying on about something or another—Elizabeth did not know what it was.

“Do you girls not have something to occupy yourselves?” demanded she. “Perhaps you should find something useful to do.”

“La!” exclaimed Lydia, quite put out. “We are occupying ourselves.” The girl paused and her expression turned dark as she spat: “If you had not prevented me from going to Brighton, I might be engaged in consequential activities at this very moment.”

“That matter is closed, Lydia,” snapped her mother. “It would be best to allow it to rest.”

Lydia huffed and rose to her feet. “Come, Kitty, let us return to my room. It appears our family does not appreciate us.”

Kitty giggling by her side, the two exited the room, the sounds of their departure up the stairs echoing after them. Mrs. Bennet could take no more, for she rose, muttering as she went, and followed them from the room. Not long after, Elizabeth could hear her mother’s knocking on her father’s door.

“What do you suppose that is about?” asked Mary.

“I think we would do better not to ask,” said Elizabeth.

Mary accepted this, but Elizabeth turned her thoughts back to her mother. It seemed she was ready to act. How Lady Catherine’s advice would affect her Elizabeth could not quite say, but it appeared she was ready to speak to her husband and do something about her youngest.