Page 27 of Such Persuasions as These (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
F rederick, having spent the afternoon at Longbourn in a state of acute misery, imposed upon Mr Bennet that he might make use of his rooms to clean up before supper.
After some personal time with a basin of steaming water and a freshly stropped razor, he was ready to present himself to his hostess as the genial naval captain once more.
As he had passed the blade over his face, stroke after stroke, the rhythm had soothed and lulled him into a state of peace he hoped would last the evening.
His time with Elizabeth had been truly comforting.
She had, as always, proved to be a most loyal friend.
It was only after an hour of pouring out his anguish that he had begun to understand why she was so moved.
She knew what he was feeling firsthand. Indeed, his heartache was hardly an hour fresher than her own.
When he had finally released every thought he had had of Anne and his pain, he had managed to cajole her own feelings from her. Just as he had suspected after the scene that morning, it was Mr Darcy over whom she was so forlorn. As it happened, he himself was indirectly the cause of their rift.
Elizabeth had insisted that the distance now existing between herself and Darcy could not be traversed. She had deceived him, and disguise of every sort was his abhorrence. His resentment was implacable, she claimed; he could never forgive her.
Wentworth could only think of how angry he was that Anne had forsaken him, and yet how desperately he loved her and how readily he would forgive her if she asked it of him.
If this Mr Darcy truly loved Elizabeth, he would find it in himself to overlook this folly.
And Frederick would do all in his power to bring them back together.
First, though, he had to get a measure of the man’s feelings.
Not surprisingly, Mr Bingley came to supper at Longbourn alone that evening.
Mr Darcy, it seemed, was out of sorts and unable to accompany him, and Miss Bingley generously stayed home to nurse her elder sister through a sick headache.
Of Mr Hurst, not a word was said. This worked out well for Jane and Elizabeth, as Bingley was the one gentleman of the Netherfield party of whom both would welcome the sight.
Upon seeing Wentworth, Bingley greeted him with a cheerful, “Here is the lucky man. Captain Wentworth, how do you do?” As the captain drew nearer, Bingley’s sunny countenance fell. “I say, are you well?”
“How very astute you are, Bingley. I have had a letter from Somersetshire, and I am afraid it has caused a breach,” Wentworth answered quietly.
“Dashed bad luck,” Bingley empathised, patting him on the shoulder.“I am more sorry than I can say. ”
“No great loss,” he lied. “I am determined to think onit no more tonight. I am here among old friends and new, and I could not be happier.” He donned his usual jaunty demeanour and strode with Bingley towards the dining room to join the ladies and their cousin, Mr Collins.
Wentworth had to admit that the parson was a wonderful distraction with his sanctimonious speeches on morality in the military and the constant comparisons of everything he saw, heard, or tasted to what he had experienced at the hand of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
His patroness was evidently a rather prominent personage in her native county of Kent.
Upon Wentworth’s declaration that he had never heard of the woman, Mr Collins went from a state of utter and almost angry shock to a conviction that he must acquaint the poor captain with all her amiable qualities, her kindly bestowed condescension, and the many favours she had in her gift.
In the midst of one of the man’s long-winded speeches, Miss Lydia piped up to speak over him, beseeching Mr Bingley, “Did you not promise to hold a ball at Netherfield?” Affronted by such a rude interruption, it appeared Mr Collins’s dignity would not allow him to speak further.
“I do not remember making such a promise, but I will do so happily. Pray, when would be a good day for you, Miss Lydia?” He smiled at Jane, and Wentworth noted the look of joyful anticipation on her face.
“Hmm…the twenty-sixth of November!”
“That is too soon, Lydia,” her eldest sister chided. “Can you not give him more time to arrange things?”
“No, no, Miss Bennet, that is perfectly sufficient. I have long been desiring to entertain at Netherfield and to dance again with the lovely Miss Bennets. I shall have Nicholls prepare the white soup. ”
Cheers went up from almost all the females in the party, and the rest of their time at table was spent discussing the ball—meaning, of course, gowns, lace, and new white gloves.
Bingley listened with clear delight as the young ladies gushed over the prospect of an evening’s elegant entertainment.
Elizabeth was a bit less enthusiastic, but wore a smile nonetheless.
As supper was being cleared away and the ladies retired to the drawing room, Frederick stared at the glass of port he held between himself and the fire. Bingley asked him what he intended to do now.
“I believe I shall stay in Hertfordshire another fortnight. Say, Mr Bennet, have you ever taken up shooting? Or do you still prefer hunting books to birds?” he asked the older man.
“In truth, I detest almost any activity that involves leaving my study. Of course, for God and country and all that,” he noted, bowing his head to the parson who sat at the far end of the table. Collins gave him a solemn nod of acknowledgment in return.
“Well, I do not sail until the first week of December. I dare say I could convince Mr Bingley here to take me out.”
“Of course,” Bingley agreed enthusiastically.
“Besides, I cannot leave before the ball,” he added with forced cheerfulness.
“Shall you stay with your aunt?” Bingley enquired.
“No, no, she cannot accommodate me. Meryton has a fine inn and a first-rate tavern. I shall be quite comfortable there.”
“By no means,” Bingley exclaimed. “You must come to Netherfield. The guest quarters are freshly made up, and your company would be much appreciated. Indeed, Darcy and I are both keen to hear about your escapades, and we shall do all in our power to make your stay pleasant, keep your mind off things.”
“If you are certain you do not mind,” Wentworth replied, nodding his acceptance, “I thank you.”