Page 19

CHAPTER 19

Getting to Know You

T he next fortnight followed a similar pattern.

Elizabeth and Darcy saw each other daily—either by apparent chance during their morning rides across the fields or when Elizabeth found him already seated in her father’s study, deep in quiet conversation, when she returned from her morning walk.

His early visits became so routine that even Mrs. Bennet ceased remarking on them—though not without a pointed glance or two in Elizabeth’s direction, accompanied by the occasional knowing smile.

She would have said more, as she did about Jane and Bingley, but her husband had warned her to keep silent, even within the family, about any potential connection between their second daughter and the son of his former friend.

“Lizzy, do not think your meetings in the fields with Mr. Darcy have gone unnoticed,” Bennet said to his daughter one morning a few days after Darcy’s first early morning visit to Longbourn.

“I am pleased the groom is always with you, but I must warn you to be careful lest someone get the idea that these meetings are intentional. Mr. Darcy could walk away with little harm to his reputation, but it would be more difficult for you to avoid the speculation. ”

“Father,” Elizabeth scolded, “how could anyone think that our meetings are anything but chance? I have ridden early in the mornings for years, and I recall very well the arguments we had about my not gadding about unaccompanied. When we have met on our rides, neither of us dismount, nor do we remain longer than a few minutes. You have taught me to consider my own reputation, and that of others, so you cannot suppose that either I or Mr. Darcy would do anything to jeopardise that.”

Reluctantly, Bennet acknowledged the truth of her statements, having heard the same from the groom.

However, he still worried about these meetings and how someone might misconstrue them.

He wondered if he should make the marriage contract between Darcy and Elizabeth known to her, or if perhaps he should determine her feelings about the gentleman.

Although he had observed the two of them, and they seemed to be inclined towards each other, that did not mean that either desired to marry the other.

First, Bennet would need to ascertain Darcy’s interest—he had indicated some interest, but Bennet was uncertain if the man actually wished to marry his daughter—and willingness to pursue the match with Elizabeth before speaking of it with his daughter, for he would not wish her to be injured if the gentleman was not inclined towards marriage.

In the afternoons, visits were exchanged between Longbourn and Netherfield.

Mr. Bingley called regularly, often accompanied by Darcy, while the Bennet ladies returned the calls to Netherfield.

Since Miss Bingley rarely left Netherfield after that first visit, afternoons at Longbourn were always more pleasant.

When she did make an appearance during a visit from the Bennets, she sat stiffly and spoke little—her once-constant stream of barbed comments notably absent.

This was appreciated, but still Elizabeth, in particular, was wary .

Whatever Mrs. Hurst said to her following that first disastrous visit had clearly left an impression.

But no one at Longbourn could be certain of how long her newfound restraint would last.

For her part, Miss Bingley was determined to bide her time.

She observed each interaction with sharp, narrowed eyes, listening intently and saying little.

Bits of seemingly trivial conversation were stored away—hoarded and twisted in her mind into ammunition she intended to use later at just the right moment: the moment the countess arrived.

She would not allow Mr. Darcy’s interest in Elizabeth Bennet—or this insufferably provincial family—to go unchecked.

She had already composed in her head the conversation she hoped to have with the countess: gently expressed “concerns” about the Bennets’ lack of connections and their vulgar relations.

Through the servants, she had learnt that the Bennets had connections actively in trade—apparently the uncle in London was a merchant, and the uncle who lived in Meryton was a mere country attorney.

Of particular interest to Miss Bingley was the missing youngest sister.

Miss Bingley’s maid had learnt that the youngest daughter had been sent away to school and had hinted of some scandal causing her to be sent away.

The age of the daughter was irrelevant, in the absence of real details, Miss Bingley delighted in inventing them.

As she considered this, she imagined the countess’s disdain sharpening into outrage upon hearing of this “ruined” sister who had been sent away to school in disgrace.

With luck, she would insist that both Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy be removed from Hertfordshire at once.

If things unfolded as she hoped, the Bingleys and the Hursts would depart as well.

Finally, Miss Bingley could no longer delude herself—Darcy would never be hers.

She had accepted that bitter truth the night of that ridiculous assembly.

But Elizabeth Bennet?

She most certainly did not deserve him either.

Miss Bingley intended to ensure that that match would never come to pass.

She said little about her intentions, her sister no longer in her confidence, but one afternoon, as the Bennets prepared to leave Netherfield after a rather civil visit, she allowed herself one small dig.

“You must find it quite different, Miss Elizabeth, to entertain gentlemen callers so frequently” she said as the ladies stood to take their leave.

“I imagine your mornings are quite altered of late since you are no longer spending time digging in the dirt with your tenants.”

Elizabeth turned, her smile cool.

“Not so very much, Miss Bingley. Although I confess it is a rare thing indeed to find a conversation partner in the countryside who speaks as thoughtfully as your brother and Mr. Darcy. They are very welcome company at Longbourn. I cannot imagine what else you might mean.”

Miss Bingley’s smile faltered though she recovered quickly.

“Indeed,” she murmured.

“Mr. Darcy is always so generous with his attention—when it suits him.”

Darcy, who had just entered the drawing room in time to hear the remark, glanced between the ladies with a frown.

“Miss Bingley,” he said, his tone carefully neutral, “you must forgive me, but I do not think I understand what you mean by that statement. I am very generous with my attention with my friends although those who only pretend friendship find me less so. Mr. Bennet has long been my friend, and I have been delighted to spend time with his family while we are in the area.”

Elizabeth suppressed a smile, and Jane quickly intervened with a comment about the weather, turning the conversation onto safer topics.

But Miss Bingley’s eyes narrowed slightly as she dipped into a shallow curtsy and turned away, retreating to the window with all the appearance of a woman above it all—though her mind raced furiously again.

That Mr. Darcy had heard her had been unfortunate, as Miss Bingley intended to hint at something far less savory than the calls exchanged between the two estates.

A few days later, the Bennets again called at Netherfield.

On this particular visit, Mary and Catherine accompanied the older girls, and Mrs. Graham attended, for Mrs. Bennet had been occupied.

While Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary spoke with Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley managed to corner Catherine to speak to her.

Catherine had been looking at a few pieces of art around the room, and had wandered away from the others.

Miss Bingley approached her and struck up a conversation, first about the art, and gradually turning the conversation to the missing Bennet sister.

“Tell me, Miss Catherine, how do you like being the youngest in your family?” she began, hoping that her words would have the desired outcome.

“Oh, I am not the youngest,” Catherine replied.

“Lydia is younger than me by a year and a half, but she is away at school.”

“I did not realise that,” Miss Bingley replied.

“I had thought I heard there were five daughters, but I supposed that I had heard wrong when we did not meet the fifth one.”

“Lydia has been at school for several years now,” Catherine said.

“I think that is why few people speak of her.”

“She does not return home?” Miss Bingley asked.

“She does, but she does not remain long,” Catherine said, pursing her lips as she recalled the last visit.

“Whyever not?” Miss Bingley prodded.

“Is she the only one of your sisters to go away to school? Have you not often wished to join her?”

“Not at all, Miss Bingley,” Catherine said.

“Lydia can be. . . rather stubborn, and I have always enjoyed staying at home. I would not wish to be at school with her.”

“What manner of school is she in, if she rarely returns home?” Miss Bingley asked.

“When I was at the ladies’ seminary I attended, I returned home at the end of each term, and spent several months at home in the summer months. Did your sister not spend the summer term at home?”

“No, she did not,” Catherine said, attempting to put an end to the conversation.

“That is a shame,” Miss Bingley continued.

“I cannot imagine a family not permitting a daughter to return home as often as possible. Your sister must be very stubborn indeed.”

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable with this conversation, Catherine attempted to change the direction, making a comment about the piece of art she was viewing.

“The subject of this painting is lovely, is it not?” she asked.

“It came with the house,” Miss Bingley said, waving her hand as though it did not matter.

“I have little interest in paintings such as this one and cannot imagine anyone being particularly drawn to it.”

“Oh, but look at the brush strokes,” Catherine began, but quickly stopped when she saw a look of distaste pass over Miss Bingley’s face.

Feeling increasingly discomfited, she moved back to where the others sat.

As she listened to the conversation around her, she wondered why Miss Bingley had appeared so interested in Lydia.

She would speak of it to Mary later or perhaps Mrs. Graham.

Surely one of them would be able to explain the sudden interest in her sister.