Page 14 of The Fire at Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
A steaming apple pie was set down between Charlotte and Mr. Collins, the rest of the table taken up by delicate ratafia cakes and luscious cheesecakes.
Charlotte watched with outward serenity and inner anticipation as Mr. Collins tried his first bite of the apple pie.
His eyes widened in amazement, and he looked down at his plate, as she fought the urge to bite her lip like some nervous chit just out the schoolroom.
“This is most excellent,” he declared enthusiastically.
Lady Lucas beamed. “It was our own dear Charlotte who prepared it. She is a dab hand at pies, I must say.”
“Indeed?” Mr. Collins cast Charlotte a most gratifying glance of approbation. “Well I must congratulate you on your magnificent talents, Miss Lucas. Utterly superb.”
Charlotte smiled graciously. “Thank you, Mr. Collins,” she said calmly, and took a delicate little bite of her ratafia cake.
She observed with satisfaction that he took a second large slice of the pie before dessert was cleared away, and as she and her mother and sister rose from the table when the decanters were brought, the seed of hope in her heart germinated and began to grow.
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Billiard Room
Netherfield
The sound of balls clacking together echoed slightly off of the oak panels of the walls, the sound deadened by the plush carpet, brown and dark amber.
A pair of cushioned armchairs sat before a leaping fire, a decanter of whiskey and tumblers sitting on the sturdy small table between them.
Dark reddish-brown drapes had been drawn across the windows to keep the light in.
Darcy straightened and reached for the cube of chalk, brushing it lightly across his cue tip as he watched Bingley line up a shot.
Darcy could see that the angle was just slightly wrong, and that the ball would glance off to the side.
His friend had been playing very poorly tonight, and Darcy suspected he knew the reason why.
“I cannot stop thinking about Miss Bennet,” Bingley said abruptly as if he knew his friend’s thoughts. He set aside his cue and stared at his closest friend. “Indeed, Darcy, I am confident that I am in love with the lady and am thinking about making her an offer.”
Darcy likewise set aside his own cue and allowed his face to settle into a frown of disapproval. “You have only known Miss Bennet for a few weeks. It would be most imprudent to offer after so short an acquaintance.”
Bingley wrinkled his brow and wandered over to the fire, where he kicked a log with one booted foot, causing the flames to flare higher.
“It is true that I have known her only since last month,” he said, though he kept his back to Darcy, “but the reality is that I know Miss Bennet better than any of the ladies I have met at parties in the past. After all, what can one learn during a few dances? I have spent many hours in Miss Bennet’s company, and I am convinced of her sweet nature and loving character. ”
He turned around at this juncture, bent an accusing stare at the master of Pemberley, and demanded, “Or do you think Miss Bennet is pretending to be a generous, kindly lady in order to entrap me in marriage?”
“No, no,” Darcy replied quickly, raising a protesting hand.
“No, I am confident of Miss Bennet’s excellent disposition and honorable nature.
But Bingley, you know as well as I do that Miss Bennet, for all her charms, is the daughter of a mere country gentleman, with ties to trade, and with a pittance for a dowry. I fear she is not an eligible bride.”
Bingley’s eyes narrowed and he inquired, “What do you mean ‘not eligible’?”
The master of Pemberley looked genuinely bewildered at this question.
“I am certain you know what I mean. Your fortune, your character, and your exposure to members of the best society allow you to reach quite high for a bride. There are many young women of the ton, some of them of noble birth, who would be privileged to accept your hand, and who would allow you to climb higher yet in the ranks of society.”
Bingley wandered over to a nearby tray, picked up the whiskey bottle, and, at a nod from his friend, poured two glasses. He picked up both glasses and walked over to hand one cup to his friend before taking a sip from his own.
“And what if I do not care to climb higher in the ranks?” he asked, his head tilted, his eyes narrowed.
“That is Caroline’s desire, certainly; she has been ambitious since she was in leading strings, and I confess that for many years, I have allowed myself to be dragged along in the wake of her aspirations.
But now – Darcy, I admire Miss Bennet, I care for her, indeed, I am confident I love her, in ways that I have never experienced before in my life.
Oh, I know what you will say, that I have been in love many times before, but this time is different! ”
This was, indeed, what Darcy had been intending to say, but he decided that for now, it was best to be quiet and listen.
“The truth,” Bingley mused, taking another drink, “is that I am more in tune with my antecedents as a son of trade than I realized. I do not wish to marry an elegant lady who would far rather attend a ball than spend a quiet evening at home. I wish for a wife who cares for me, who wants to spend time with me, who will be a good and devoted mother to our children.”
“You have always shown every sign of treasuring social engagements,” Darcy protested, “far more than I do!”
“I do enjoy parties, and balls, and assemblies, yes! But I enjoy them because I enjoy people! I am not like Caroline; she does not truly enjoy balls, you know. She is always thinking about who will dance with her, and whether she can score an acquaintance with a member of the nobility or some such nonsense. No, I feel far more at ease here in Hertfordshire, amongst the four and twenty families whom you disdain so much. Now go ahead, despise me if you dare!”
Darcy goggled at his friend incredulously, even as his mind turned back to an encounter with Miss Elizabeth at Netherfield a few weeks previously.
On that occasion, he had asked Miss Elizabeth to dance a reel, and she had refused.
She had used very similar wording to Bingley’s, and he wondered – was he prone to looking down on those around him so readily?
“Indeed, I do not dare,” he managed to say.
“Truly, Bingley, if you are happier in the country, I understand entirely. Nonetheless, may I ask, as your friend, that you wait a little longer before making a formal offer to Miss Bennet? You have a generous heart, and I wonder whether part of your love for the lady is mixed with sympathy for her difficult position in life, especially given the catastrophe at Longbourn.”
Bingley grimaced and said, “I suppose there is some sense to that. But I intend to call on Miss Bennet often in the near future, and with the intention of making her my wife unless it becomes obvious that we are not, in fact, compatible.”
“Very well,” Darcy agreed. A face formed in his mind’s eye, that of Elizabeth Bennet, her fine eyes sparkling, her dark curls dancing coyly beneath her bonnet. She was such an energetic, vigorous, lively woman – though not, of course, a worthy bride for a Darcy!
But given that Bingley was determined to court Miss Bennet, there was every reason for Darcy to accompany his friend to Longbourn frequently, where he would have the pleasure of enjoying Miss Elizabeth’s bright presence. There could be no harm in performing this duty for his friend.