Page 13 of Such Persuasions as These (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

CHAPTER TWELVE

“ I do not know who is happier at you being here, Mama or your Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth said to the terribly ill creature lying before her. Jane’s fever had not broken, and at times, she let out a quiet moan of pain, which Elizabeth knew to stem from more misery than the volume indicated.

Her poor sister.

Despite her aching bones and unconquerable chill, Jane smiled at Elizabeth’s attempt to make her feel better. “He is not my Mr Bingley,” she said through the soreness of her throat.

“Oh, I believe he is…or he very soon will be.”

Jane’s smile brightened, then faded as her head lolled and she fell back into an uneasy sleep.

Elizabeth had been with her all morning and had neglected to bring a book from Longbourn.

She decided to stretch her legs and have a walk through the halls of Netherfield, intent on availing herself of its library.

She knew it to be quite a large space, but she was not sure how full its shelves were.

After a turn which brought her near the drawing room, where she nodded to her host and hostess, the former of which asked anxiously after Jane and listened raptly to her report, Elizabeth finally came upon the library, which was quiet and rather dark.

The number of books was not great, but there seemed to be a decent selection in different genres and periods. Milton. Shakespeare. Even novels. She almost laughed when she saw Camilla —how she had wanted to throw that book across the room as the naive girl got herself into one bind after another.

And yet , she could not help but think, look at the quagmire in which I find myself.

With a bit more sympathy for the young lady, she pulled it down and, walking towards the window to get some light, began leafing through the pages as she thought about her own conundrum.

Oh, if only I had never mentioned Frederick , her heart lamented.

It had always been the family joke, nay, the neighbourhood joke.

She had used the excuse of their ‘understanding’ many times to ward off odious suitors or to set down haughty female acquaintances; it had seemed so harmless to use the convenience of it to put Mr Darcy at ease.

But now he was altogether too at ease in her company, and she was altogether flustered.

She had refused Frederick outright the first time he had asked for her hand.

He had done so whilst dining at Longbourn, in front of both of their families.

Her father had not been impressed and had told the young man that, as he wished to join the Navy, he would see that his daughter was not allowed to accept his offer until he had a living suitable to support a wife.

As that would be several years off, Mr Bennet had figured that would be the end of the matter.

Young Frederick was undaunted. “That’ll do, sir. As we are so young, I assumed it would be a long engagement…”

“A long engagement indeed. She is six years old!” her mother had cried, half vexed at the boy’s presumptuousness, half joyous at almost having a daughter betrothed.

Mr Bennet had picked little Freddie up off his bended knee by the ear and set him solidly on the couch as far removed from his Lizzy as the room allowed.

Her smile at the remembrance gave way to a giggle as she pictured poor Frederick, all long legs and knobby knees, rubbing his ear and glowering at her father the rest of the night.

It had been his next proposal that had put her into the scrape she was in now.

Still staring into the pages of Camilla , Elizabeth made her way to a chair near the fire and took a seat.

To her surprise, she was at once accosted by a long-haired, striped cat of indeterminate breed.

She exclaimed as the creature stood on his hind legs with his front paws on her chest so as to nuzzle her face cheek to cheek.

“Get down, you mongrel. That is not how a gentleman behaves towards a lady.” Mr Darcy’s voice surprised her as she returned the feline’s affections. Looking up, she discovered he was seated right across from her.

How did I not notice him? Has he been here all this time?

The morning had been a trying one for Darcy. Before he could break his fast, Miss Bingley had accosted him on the subject of Jane Bennet. She had yet again been overly familiar, assuming her brother’s actions would affect him the same way they did her, as if their lives would forever be entwined.

He shuddered at the thought.

Then, when the household had been blessed with more pleasant company, in particular the delightful sight of one muddy and rather dishevelled Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst had wasted no time in berating the whole Bennet tribe to him and their brother.

He had welcomed the sight of Miss Elizabeth, he told himself, because Bingley’s nerves were in a state of high agitation, and it would calm his friend to know Miss Bennet was being so lovingly attended.

If he was also anticipating more engaging conversation than Bingley could give, and a more pleasing visage than Miss Bingley’s, he did not admit it to himself, for such meditations would be ungenerous.

However, his preferred companion had left them directly to see after her sister. He baulked at being given the hope of some relief from Miss Bingley’s attentions and then having such hopes dashed so suddenly. His hostess’s vituperations did nothing to ease his irritation.

“I should be careful if I were you, Mr Darcy,” she said as soon as Elizabeth was out of her hearing. “It is clear to those of us who care about you that she is scheming for, shall we say, a better betrothal.”

“Unfaithful and mercenary—so disgraceful,” her sister added with a tut.

Unable to bear such company a moment more, he fled to his usual hiding place.

A rather weighty ball of fur bounded upon him not ten seconds after having seated himself.

Darcy dutifully ministered to the demanding feline whilst trying to assemble his thoughts.

He attempted to lose himself in the silkiness of the cat’s dark coat, to distract himself from thoughts of the lady upstairs—the glow of exercise upon her cheeks, her sincere concern for her sister, and the adorable state of her petticoats—but it was futile.

Darcy heard the library door creak as it opened behind him, then his breath caught in his throat as the object of his thoughts passed right by without seeing him and began perusing the tall shelves of Bingley’s mediocre library.

Elizabeth chose a volume and shifted her position closer to the window, where the light streaming in allowed her a better view of its pages.

The beams of sunshine through the glazing were illuminating every streak of auburn in her curls, highlighting every curve of her feminine figure.

Her face became a perfect cameo of cream as one side was illuminated in brightness and the other shrouded in black.

He was struck by the alluring picture she made, mesmerised really.

Then, she laughed. Darcy was caught off-guard by how delightful it was. It was brief, just a giggle, but its effect on him was a cascade of joy, inspiring a broad grin.

She walked towards the chair across from him, still reading, obviously unaware of his presence. Without warning, his furry friend abandoned him for what Darcy had to concede were sweeter pastures.

The smug beast , he grumbled inwardly.

He was not jealous of some random library cat, certainly. However, when the cat had gone from alighting upon her lap to outright cuddling her, caressing her cheek with his own, Darcy could not but scold the reprobate for taking such liberties, thus alerting Miss Elizabeth to his presence.

“Mr Darcy, I did not see you there,” she said with a gasp. “How do you do?”

“Sitting before a fire with an engaging book, a happy cat, and now, pleasant company, I am quite well, thank you,” he answered, smiling down at the feline in her lap. “How does your sister do?” he added more seriously.

She replied that Miss Bennet was not any better, but was resting, which gave her some peace at least.The cat continued rubbing his face against hers and gifting her roars of bliss.

Elizabeth nuzzled back and kissed the bridge of his nose, instinctively baby-talking and cooing to the lucky rascal as he drank in the new attention.

“And what is your name, you handsome fellow?”

“Fitzwilliam Darcy. I thought we had established that,” he answered, mimicking her arch words with the slightest upturn of his mouth.

She was clearly dazed at his small flirtation. Indeed, he astonished himself.

“That hidden sense of humour emerges again,” she said with a smile. “I quite like it. You should employ it in public some time. And who is this handsome boy?” she asked as she nuzzled and kissed the begging animal.

“Ah, the cat. That, I am told by Mrs Nicholls, is Italics the Library Cat. It seems he moved in at some point during the tenure of the last leaseholder and made his home in front of the fire here in the library. The servants feed him and tend to his needs, and he knows Netherfield better than anyone. His sole purpose in life, it appears, is to make reading practically impossible.”

“Hmm, how curious.”

“Yes, nobody knows where he came from or how he gets in, but he is always here when I come. Friendly little thing, is he not? He has become the bane of my valet’s existence, I can tell you.

Apparently, there is not a brush in the Kingdom capable of removing cat fur from wool.

” He swiped at the offending patches of fur on his coat and his lap as he spoke.

“I am surprised Miss Bingley has not had him consigned to the stables,” Elizabeth said, not imagining the lady much of an animal lover.

“Perhaps she would,” Mr Darcy replied, “but I do not think he would stay. He clearly believes himself the master of Netherfield Park and chooses to come and go as he pleases.”