Page 26 of Succession

E lizabeth knew that waiting to understand Mr. Darcy’s character was the right thing, but it was becoming more and more difficult to tolerate the wait. She found it hard to be apart from him. She thought about him constantly. She imagined touching him, his skin, his hair, the hard muscles that his clothing could not disguise. She imagined him touching her…her hair, her face, her body. Her face burned with shame at her imaginings. It was well that she no longer shared a bed with a sister, as she would have been hard-pressed to explain her nighttime blushes.

She still felt that she did not know him well. They were infatuated with one another, without a doubt, but was that enough of a foundation for a lifelong attachment? She did not think so. After all, look how infatuation had bound her parents together in an unhappy marriage!

Her mother questioned her constantly as to Mr. Darcy’s almost daily visits. What is he waiting for, her mother wanted to know. Elizabeth could not confess that it was she, Elizabeth, who was delaying the progress of the romance.

But tonight the Bennet family would go to Netherfield for dinner. The very thought of seeing Mr. Darcy had her heart a-flutter!

***

As the Bennet family clustered in Netherfield’s entryway, Elizabeth was surprised to see Jane, rather than Mr. Hughes. There was a forced smile on her elder sister’s face. “Jane?” she whispered.

“Caroline is here,” Jane whispered back. “I wanted to warn you.”

Caroline Bingley! Oh, Lord. Elizabeth grimaced at Jane, who grimaced in return.

“Thank you for telling me, Jane,” Elizabeth whispered.

Both sisters plastered smiles onto their faces as they walked into the drawing room. Those already gathered in the drawing room rose to their feet as the Bennets walked in. Bows and curtsies were exchanged, though Miss Bingley merely nodded her head at the newcomers.

Miss Bingley had claimed a chair to Mr. Darcy’s right. There was an empty chair to Mr. Darcy’s left, but Elizabeth chose not to set herself up as Miss Bingley’s opponent quite so obviously. Instead, she took a seat on a sofa on the opposite side of the room. Mr. Darcy was plainly disappointed, his eyes following Elizabeth as she moved away.

“My sister has come for a short visit,” Mr. Bingley began. “You all remember Miss Bingley, do you not?”

“Indeed we do,” Mrs. Bennet said, frostily. “I recall that your brother’s wedding breakfast was not to your liking, Miss Bingley.”

“Oh, I do beg your pardon, Mrs. Bennet,” Miss Bingley said. “I am so accustomed to Town affairs that I truly had no notion of how differently things were done in the country.” Her saccharine tone fooled no on.

Elizabeth groaned to herself. Must the warfare begin so soon?

Mrs. Bennet replied, “Indeed; here in the country, we are more concerned with the substance, not the appearance.”

“Whatever can you mean?”

“What mattered at the wedding breakfast was that two people were committing themselves to one another; the number of cakes and what-not was far less important.”

Brava, Mama! Elizabeth thought.

Miss Bingley promptly yawned enormously. “Oh, goodness,” she drawled. “I had not realised I was so weary. I do beg your pardon, Mrs. Benton.”

“My mother’s name is Bennet, not Benton,” Jane said immediately.

“And I must beg your pardon once again, Mrs. Bennet,” Miss Bingley said, smoothly.

This is intolerable, Mr. Bingley thought. “Caroline…” he said, warningly.

“I am sorry, Charles. It was a long trip from London, and it is catching up with me.”

“Perhaps you would like to retire?” Her brother asked, through clenched teeth.

“Oh, not at all. I am certain this evening will be most engaging.”

Elizabeth, hoping to keep things civil, said, “Miss Bingley, I could not help but notice the colour of your gown; I do not think I have seen it before.”

Miss Bingley preened. “It is called Coquelicot.”

“Is that not the name of a type of poppy?” Mr. Darcy enquired.

“Of course not,” Miss Bingley said, offended. A poppy! Such a common flower!

Mr. Bennet surprised the company by speaking up. “It is, though. It is French for wild corn poppy. No need to be upset, Miss Bingley; it is a pretty enough plant, though many regard it as a weed.”

This was too much for the two youngest Bennet sisters, who burst out laughing. “A weed!” Lydia shrieked, and she and Kitty fell into each other’s arms, overcome with mirth.

Mr. Darcy would have been horrified at their behaviour had it not been just too, too perfect.

Dinner was announced just then, much to the relief of everyone present. Jane had arranged the seating, with Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth side-by-side. Miss Bingley was placed between her brother and Mr. Bennet. She was displeased with the arrangement, of course, but could not object.

“Why is she here?” Elizabeth asked Mr. Darcy in a whisper.

“No one knows,” he replied. “But it is deuced awkward having her about.”

“Could she have found out that you are in residence?”

“She must have; there is no other explanation for her sudden decision to join her brother at Netherfield.”

“You must be careful.”

“Evans will sleep in my bed, and I will sleep in a different room down the hall; it is all arranged.”

“Whatever are you two whispering about?” Miss Bingley called out.

“I beg your pardon?” Mr. Darcy said, his surprise at such a question all but yelled out across the dinner table plainly written on his face.

“Have you secret affairs to discuss?” Miss Bingley went on.

Elizabeth answered, “Yes, Mr. Darcy has caught me spying for the French and is interrogating me over dinner. Well done, Mr. Darcy, you are too clever for me!”

The company laughed, and Miss Bingley turned bright red.

“She will not thank you for that,” Mr. Darcy murmured.

“No, I fear not.”

Mr. Darcy glanced around the table. Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia were whispering together; Mr. Bennet and Miss Bingley were pointedly ignoring one another; the Hursts were exchanging amused glances. Bingley was staring at his younger sister, clearly trying to convey a message, but his efforts were frustrated by her refusal to look at him. Mrs. Bingley simply looked worried.

As soon as everyone put down their dessert spoons, Mrs. Bingley rose to her feet and led the ladies from the room.

The gentlemen sighed in relief. “Dash it, Bingley, can you not send her back to London?” Mr. Hurst asked, irritably. “You know she will just cause trouble.”

“Your sleeping arrangements have been made, Darcy?” his host enquired, ignoring Mr. Hurst.

“They have, yes.”

“Sleeping arrangements?” Mr. Bennet asked.

“Caroline is not above compromising Darcy here, so he lets his valet sleep in his bed and he takes a smaller room down the hall,” Mr. Hurst answered, disgust plain in his voice.

“You are jesting, surely!” Mr. Bennet protested.

“I wish that he were,” Mr. Darcy responded. “But she would not be the first to try such a trick.”

Mr. Bennet stared at him. “Well, I would not trade places with you for all your wealth,” he observed. “You cannot know friend from foe, can you?”

“Bingley here is a friend,” Mr. Darcy answered quickly. “But, truthfully, I have few friends, as it is difficult to know whom to trust.”

“Darcy, if you are truly uncomfortable, I will have Caroline out of the house as soon as may be,” Mr. Bingley said. “It is not right that you must fear a compromise from my sister.”

“No, Bingley, she is your family, and family is more important than anything,” Mr. Darcy said, sincerely.

Mr. Hurst sighed, loudly, and said, “What a load of nonsense.”

***

The ladies in the Netherfield drawing room were having rather a difficult time of it. Miss Bingley started the fracas by observing, “Surely Mr. Darcy is ready to return to London! I cannot imagine what he is about, remaining in the country for so long.”

Mrs. Bingley replied, “Well, you know he does live in the country, Caroline, as Pemberley is in the very heart of Derbyshire. But he is here to help Charles decide whether or not to purchase Netherfield.”

“But that could have been decided many days ago! Why is he still here?”

And then Mrs. Bennet said, “If you must know, he is courting my daughter Lizzy; that is why he is still here!”

Elizabeth cried out, “Mama, hush!”

Miss Bingley stared at Mrs. Bennet and then began to laugh.

“And what is so very amusing, Miss Bingley?” Mrs. Bennet demanded.

“Why, I assumed you were joking, Mrs. Bennet! Surely Mr. Darcy is not paying court to Miss Eliza!” Her tone was mocking.

Mrs. Hurst murmured, warningly, “Caroline, stop.”

Elizabeth spoke through clenched teeth. “Miss Bingley, you are to call me Miss Bennet, not Miss Eliza.”

“I do beg your pardon, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth, at that moment, reached the end of her patience. “There seems to be a good deal of pardon-begging tonight, Miss Bingley, if you will forgive the observation,” she said.

“I beg your –“

“And there you go again. First, you begged my mother’s pardon for her observation that you did not enjoy your brother’s wedding breakfast. Then, you begged her pardon for yawning during your conversation with her. Then there was a third begging for mis-speaking her name. Then we had a fourth begging for mis-speaking my name, and now you are about to embark upon a fifth. I truly had no idea you were such a beggar, Miss Bingley.”

Miss Bingley leapt to her feet. “Well! I have never been so insulted in all my life!”

“I find that quite difficult to believe,” Elizabeth shot back.

“Lizzy!” her mother exclaimed, just as Mrs. Bingley called out, “Caroline!”

Miss Bingley gathered up her skirts and left the room with enormous dignity, head held high. But she could not miss hearing the peals of laughter behind her.