Page 6 of The Happiness of a Most Beloved Sister (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

CHAPTER FIVE

D arcy and Elizabeth successfully avoided one another for the remainder of her residence at Netherfield Park, though on the gentleman’s part, at least, he could not refrain from wishing the studied separation unnecessary.

The sad fact was that Elizabeth Bennet tempted him more than was prudent for a man of his station, and so, no matter the number of quiet sighs she breathed or the way she would occasionally nibble on her thumb—an action which was maddening in numerous ways—he would not approach any nearer than distant acquaintance dictated.

It was for the best, even if he longed to sit next to her, draw her to his side, and banish her every worry with dedicated affection.

Although his head and his heart were increasingly in conflict with one another, the torment Darcy suffered was due to be alleviated soon.

It had been arranged for the Bennet sisters to return to Longbourn with their family as soon as the church service concluded, thus effecting the separation he struggled to maintain.

In the meantime, his gaze frequently wandered from the pulpit to the far end of the pew, where Elizabeth sat, countenance solemn and topaz eyes dulled to a melancholy grey as she ostensibly listened to the sermon.

Darcy suspected that she was no more attentive to the message of the day than he, though her distraction appeared to be focused inwards rather than on the rounded slope of a cheek or the antics of a loose, bouncy curl.

Darcy cursed himself for adding to her troubles the day before.

He was not entirely sure how he had done it, but then he was always getting himself into those sorts of scrapes without awareness of how.

His cousin liked to laugh at him and proclaim that Darcy gave offence wherever he went, though the exact mechanisms frequently eluded his understanding, and Fitzwilliam would not enlighten him.

‘If I am required to explain it,’ the colonel would quip, ‘then you will never truly understand.’

With Elizabeth, Darcy was fairly certain that his misstep had something to do with her wretched sister and Bingley. She had been on the cusp of confiding something to him, he had sensed it at the time, but had then retreated to a cool reserve when he had foolishly shown reluctance for the topic.

It could not be helped, he supposed; Darcy was not the type of gentleman to encourage the thinly veiled pursuit of one of his friends.

Much as he despised the thought, it was possible that Elizabeth was acting as an agent on Miss Bennet’s behalf, seeking intelligence that might ensnare Bingley in the parson’s mousetrap.

He did not wish to believe she might be so deceptive, but her probing query about Bingley and her immediate withdrawal at the first sign of his wariness did not speak well of her motives.

He was already aware that she danced to the tune of Miss Bennet’s whims; was it such a stretch to believe she might become her sister’s spy?

Perhaps not, but as he darted another lingering glance in Elizabeth’s direction, taking in her distant gaze and the thoughtful tilt of her head, he could not quite believe it of her.

He would remain cautious and certainly not go so far as to encourage open discourse again, but she had not that same air of connivance that her elder sister—seated closer than necessary to Bingley and grazing his shoulder with her own more often than could be considered genuinely accidental—displayed.

“Amen.”

The collective murmur tugged Darcy free of his distraction, and he stood, albeit belatedly, with the rest of the congregation.

By the time he had collected himself, Mrs Bennet had somehow already joined them from across the aisle and was making herself loudly agreeable to Bingley, thanking him profusely for looking after her ‘dear Jane’ during her convalescence.

Elizabeth had been pushed aside without so much as being allowed to offer her own gratified farewells, shooed away by her own mother with unsubtle hand gestures.

It is no mystery where Miss Bennet has learnt her dismissive behaviour.

Mrs Bennet has obviously set the standard.

To his dismay, Elizabeth accepted this banishment without protest—although, what objection she might have raised without causing a scene was unfathomable—and left her mother and elder sister to join the rest of the Bennets at the chapel door.

She did not spare him a glance as she departed, causing him a pang, but then he supposed he ought to be glad of it; too much temptation from that quarter could not be good for him.

Despite her urgency to be away from Netherfield and its coterie of vexing inhabitants, it was only a few days after their departure that Elizabeth wished herself back there.

Mr Darcy might not be the most sparkling conversationalist, but he had a great deal more wit than her cousin and smelled better, to boot.

Whereas the Derbyshire gentleman exuded the pleasant aroma of basil and citrus, she suspected that Mr Collins had not touched a bar of soap since his arrival—perhaps not in the past twelvemonth.

She would far rather endure a sweet-scented companion with more to say than the regurgitations of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, even if he were otherwise haughty and aloof.

I had not thought there was another gentleman I was less inclined to endure, yet here we are.

The only benefit to Mr Collins’s discourse over Mr Darcy’s, to Elizabeth’s mind, was the rare necessity of a response beyond a nod of the head or quietly murmured word of assent.

He droned on endlessly about his gardens, his patroness, his duties, his patroness again, and congratulated himself in general on his circumstances with the apparent intent to impress her, yet it never occurred to him to allow Elizabeth any part in the conversation.

Thus, she allowed her mind to wander without any real fear of missing something important.

Across the room, Kitty and Lydia were ostensibly remaking a bonnet, yet frequent glances in her direction and poorly concealed titters told Elizabeth that their real occupation was laughing at her.

She made a face at them, sending the pair into silent paroxysms of mirth, though she found it impossible to entirely dampen her own amusement.

Had she been in their place, she likely would have found humour in the absurdity of Mr Collins pitching woo also.

If only Jane were there to alleviate the burden of Mr Collins’s trying company, but alas, she had gone upstairs for a rest an hour or so ago.

She was much recovered from her illness, yet she still tired easily so must be excused from the duty of entertaining their cousin.

Mr Collins, enthralled by Jane’s beauty the same as every man before him, had at first protested, but after Mrs Bennet had informed him of the impending engagement between her eldest and Mr Bingley, he had subsided in favour of attaching himself to Elizabeth. Lucky me.

“…and it will astonish you to know that the chimney piece cost Sir Lewis in excess of eight hundred pounds . An incredible amount, I know, but I can assure you that the expense was worth it…”

When Mr Collins once again descended into describing the minute details of his patroness’s favourite drawing room—a subject he had canvassed at length over dinner the evening prior—Elizabeth could no longer abide his prattling without additional distraction.

When he paused to take a breath, she proposed, “Sir, it is a lovely day out. What say you to a walk? We have yet to show you Meryton.”

Mr Collins appeared confounded for a moment, almost as if he had forgotten that Elizabeth was more than a mere decoration of the parlour, before he belatedly acquiesced to her request. “Of course, dear cousin. I am sure you wish to peruse the shops, procure some ribbon and other fripperies.” He chuckled as if in indulgent understanding. “Young women do enjoy their shopping.”

Although Elizabeth would not deny she liked such excursions as much as the next lady, she felt slighted by Mr Collins’s tone.

He seemed to imply that it was an empty-headed pursuit, one befitting those of her sex, whom he apparently considered beneath his own intelligence.

She longed to put him in his place, but the effort was not worth the cost of the offence and the uproar it would cause.

With Jane abed and Mary disinclined to abandon the pianoforte, Elizabeth gathered her two youngest sisters to prepare for their excursion. On the way up the staircase to collect their spencers, she endured their teasing with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

“Mr Darcy might find you only tolerable, Lizzy, but I daresay you have made a conquest of Mr Collins,” teased Kitty with a giggle.

“Aye,” Lydia agreed, peering over her shoulder at her elder sister with a glimmer of mischief in her eye. “Though he preferred Jane at first. She is clever to pretend illness and hide away in her room—I wish I had thought of it.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes in a wide arc, making her exasperation plain. “Do not be absurd. Jane is not pretending anything. She is still weak from her recent cold.”

“And Papa calls me silly! Honestly, Lizzy, how can you be so obtuse? Jane always feels weak whenever Mr Collins draws too near, or when he repeats himself. It is obvious.”

Momentarily stunned by Lydia’s effrontery, Elizabeth halted on the step, blinking at her youngest sister’s retreating back. “She does not!”

Having reached the landing, Lydia proceeded down the hall just behind Kitty, snorting a derisive laugh. “Believe what you want, but I am not so stupid, and neither is Jane.”

As the door to Kitty and Lydia’s room closed on their laughter at her expense, Elizabeth remained where she was, contemplating their accusations with a knot in her stomach. She generally dismissed whatever her youngest, silliest sisters said, but with Mr Jones’s voice joining theirs in her mind…

Shaking her head to dispel these unwanted suspicions, Elizabeth huffed and continued to her room. Stuff and nonsense , she reassured herself.

She was careful to tread lightly as she entered the bedchamber she shared with Jane, determined not to disturb her sister’s rest, but such consideration proved unnecessary.

She found Jane seated at the dressing table, pinching her cheeks with the apparent goal of improving her colour.

“I have grown so pale of late. Mama says my complexion is as flawless as ever, but what do you think?”

Elizabeth confided to herself, somewhat testily, I think you look perfectly well . A moment later she banished the snide notion, allowing it to be washed away in a wave of remorse. Aloud, she said, “I see nothing amiss, but perhaps a bit of sunshine will give you a healthy glow.”

Jane’s nose wrinkled in the mirror. “And grow coarse and brown? Or worse, risk freckling?”

“Mr Jones suggested to me that fresh air and exercise might be beneficial to your health. Why do you not walk with us to Meryton?”

Jane pivoted on her stool to face Elizabeth, her interest piqued. “I suppose an airing might do me some good. I have not called upon any of our friends since before my convalescence at Netherfield.”

Unable to resist proving Lydia wrong, Elizabeth made a point of mentioning their cousin. “Mr Collins means to escort us so that we might show him around the town. We ought to begin with the church, I think.”

Her stomach clenched uncomfortably the moment Jane’s hand rose to cup her forehead.

She slumped against the dressing table behind her, eyes fluttering closed and her lips contorting in such a way that implied a sudden wave of discomfort.

“Forgive me. A faintness has just come upon me. I do not believe I am strong enough to join you after all. Please give my regrets to Mr Collins.”

Swallowing back an uprising of bile that threatened to sicken her, Elizabeth murmured her assent and quickly set to collecting her spencer and bonnet. She hurried to leave Jane and her rising suspicions behind.