Page 2 of What Comes Between Cousins

T HE NEXT DAY ALL MERYTON was afire with talk of the previous night and the attendance of an actual viscount to their assembly. No one had ever heard of such a thing happening in their sleepy little community, though some of the elderly members of society claimed that a baron had once attended. But what was a baron to a viscount? A man who would one day be an earl must surely be superior in every way!

At the Bennet estate, the talk did not differ much from what the rest of the community was saying. The scheming, which had already begun, was also nothing out of the ordinary, though Longbourn was home to one who was, perhaps, far more prone to plotting openly.

As Mr. Bennet had eschewed the previous evening’s festivities, he had not met the viscount there. That was not to say that he had not made the acquaintance of the man in advance.

“I cannot imagine what you mean by behaving in this way, Mrs. Bennet,” said he after his wife had carried on for several minutes as the family gathered in the sitting-room. “He is only a viscount, after all.”

“ Only a viscount ?” screeched his wife. Mr. Bennet’s wince was quite noticeable to his second eldest daughter—it quite mirrored Elizabeth’s own. “How can you speak such nonsense? Have you ever met a viscount yourself?”

“Indeed, I have,” replied Mr. Bennet. “There were several of them at Cambridge when I attended, and some of them were even decent enough chaps.” He winked at Elizabeth at this last statement. “And only last Wednesday, when I visited Netherfield to call on Mr. Bingley—at your insistence, I might add—I made the acquaintance of both Mr. Bingley’s guests.”

Mrs. Bennet was appalled. “You met the viscount, and you did not even inform us?”

“Your stated interest was in Mr. Bingley, my dear,” replied Mr. Bennet. “I had not thought you would be interested in a mere viscount.”

It was clear that Mrs. Bennet did not quite know what to make of her husband’s insouciance. That anyone would consider meeting a peer inconsequential was unfathomable to her limited understanding. The thought that he might be teasing her never entered her mind—a matter which perplexed Elizabeth, considering how often he had done exactly that in the past.

The paper he had raised at his wife’s sudden silence was soon dropped as he surveyed the room filled with his progeny. “Can I assume some of you might actually have danced with our visiting viscount? Or was he too high and mighty to dance with the daughters of a country gentleman?”

“No, Papa,” replied Elizabeth, even as her mother sucked in a breath for another diatribe. Thankfully, Elizabeth’s words distracted her verbose parent. “In fact, I found Lord Chesterfield to be pleasant and engaging. And Mary and Jane both danced with him as well.”

“Only with my three eldest?” asked Mr. Bennet, turning an eye on his youngest daughters. “Pity.”

Elizabeth stifled a laugh by feigning a cough. Neither Lydia nor Kitty understood the thrust of their father’s statement.

“Kitty and I were not injured, Papa,” said Lydia. “We were engaged for all the sets anyway. And I did not think him very handsome, though Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were both frightfully handsome, indeed.”

“And did either of these two gentlemen dance with my youngest and . . . liveliest daughters?”

“I dare say Mr. Bingley would have danced with everyone in the room, had there only been enough sets,” replied Lydia. “But as it was, he danced with all of us. As for Mr. Darcy . . .” Lydia’s nose rose into the air, a striking resemblance to the younger Bingley sister’s behavior the night before, in Elizabeth’s estimation. “It seemed to me he could not be satisfied with any of the young ladies, for he danced only with Mr. Bingley’s sisters.”

“Oh, Mr. Darcy was quite proud and disagreeable,” said Mrs. Bennet, finally finding her voice.

“Indeed?” asked Mr. Bennet. “When I met him, he struck me as an intelligent man and more than willing to converse with me. He is rather reticent, I thought, but he was an agreeable fellow.”

“I suspect you have the right of it, Father,” said Elizabeth. “He is simply not at his best in company. I happened to be standing near him during the course of the evening, and he spoke with me in a friendly manner, though we did not speak long.

“Lord Chesterfield, however, is a very different kind of man, though they are cousins. While we were dancing, we both chanced to overhear one of the Miss Longs saying something impertinent about his position in society. Rather than being angry with her, he only laughed and informed me that he has become accustomed to it. He also confided in me that his cousin, Mr. Darcy, does not enjoy that same attention.”

“And does he receive the same attention as a viscount?” demanded Mrs. Bennet. “How can such a thing be imagined?”

“It can be when you consider that Mr. Darcy’s estate has an income of over ten thousand a year,” replied Elizabeth.

Mrs. Bennet’s eyes widened, and Elizabeth thought she might faint at the thought of such riches. Elizabeth caught her father’s eye, and they shared a chuckle.

“Yes, that is what I heard too,” replied Mr. Bennet. “When I visited, there was some mention of how Mr. Darcy has been the master of his estate for some years already. It appears he has been considered quite the catch in the marriage market, and it has attracted attention he would prefer not to receive.”

“I had not heard such gossip,” managed Mrs. Bennet.

“I cannot imagine how,” said Elizabeth. “Rumors of his wealth were spoken from one end of the assembly hall to the other.”

Though she professed confusion, Elizabeth knew exactly how the information had eluded her mother. Mrs. Bennet had decided that Mr. Darcy was proud and above his company early in the evening and had ignored him thereafter.

“He is very handsome,” allowed Mrs. Bennet, speaking of Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth was forced to cover her mouth again—Mrs. Bennet’s concession was tantamount to a declaration of his suitability to become the husband of one of her daughters. Mrs. Bennet’s next words were a confirmation of Elizabeth’s supposition.

“I believe he would do very well for one of my daughters—very well, indeed.” She stopped and surveyed the room, her eyes lingering on Jane and Lydia both. “The viscount must, of course, expect the best. He will certainly favor either Jane, for her beauty, or Lydia, for her liveliness. Since Mr. Darcy is so reticent, perhaps Lydia would do well for a wife for him. She might draw him out.”

“I am amused to hear you say so, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Bennet, the light of mischief shining in his eyes. “By my account, neither of the gentlemen in question so much as danced with Lydia.”

“No, they did not,” conceded Mrs. Bennet. “But if we only bring her to their attention, I am certain she will be agreeable to one of them. Jane may have the other.”

Elizabeth doubted either man would consider such a silly flirt as Lydia to be agreeable, but she kept her opinion to herself. She did not wish to begin an argument.

“As for Lizzy,” continued Mrs. Bennet, “if she can refrain from impertinent comments, perhaps she may attract the attention of Mr. Bingley.

“Yes,” continued Mrs. Bennet, sitting in her chair with an air of self-satisfaction about her, “I believe that will do very well, indeed. I am quite set upon it.”

“You may be set upon it, Mrs. Bennet,” replied Mr. Bennet as he rose to his feet. “But I would remind you that these young men possess the freedom to choose their own paths in life. They might defy you and refuse to act as you have decreed. For all you know, this viscount might decide that it is Mary he cannot live without.” Mr. Bennet paused and smiled at Mary. “I understand you did quite well last night, my dear. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“Mary?” cried Lydia. “Why would Lord Chesterfield possibly choose Mary ?”

“Perhaps because Mary is not silly and ignorant like her youngest sister,” said Mary.

“Yes, perhaps that is it,” said Mr. Bennet. He watched Lydia in an unfriendly manner, and it was this which prevented the girl from further stating her opinion.

“Regardless, I would ask you to refrain from putting your daughters in situations with which they will be uncomfortable, Mrs. Bennet,” continued Mr. Bennet, turning his attention back to his wife. “And remember that these men are our new neighbors. I cannot state with any degree of confidence that they will not eventually marry your daughters, but I believe they receive enough of such attention in London. Let us simply be their friends while they are in the neighborhood, hmm?”

With that, Mr. Bennet took his paper, rolled it up and placed it under his arm, and quit the room. Elizabeth watched him go, knowing his speech was as much as he was usually willing to make to reprimand his wife. Elizabeth had often wished he would take her firmly in hand, for she could not count the number of times Mrs. Bennet had embarrassed her in company.

“Your father might not possess much faith in you,” said Mrs. Bennet. “But I certainly do. I am certain if you work at it, you will catch the eyes of these gentlemen. What a fine thing that would be!”

“I thank you for my share, Mama,” said Lydia, “but I think I must decline. When the militia company comes, I will much prefer their company. None of the three gentlemen wear a red coat, and I would prefer an officer for a husband.”

Mrs. Bennet looked at her youngest with consternation, and then a sly look came over her. “But the viscount was a colonel, you know. Perhaps he does not wear a red coat now , but I am certain he lent it much distinction when he did.”

“That is true,” said Lydia, tapping her lips with one finger.

“Let us not be too hasty, shall we? Perhaps this viscount will be to your liking after all. If, in the end, you do not like him, we can marry Jane to him. I am certain he could assist any man of the militia who catches your fancy. He would , after all, be the man’s brother-in-law.”

With a giggle, Lydia agreed, and she moved closer to her mother to allow them to begin planning. Kitty, though she was clearly upset that her mother had not included her in her scheming, joined them, and soon they were speaking quietly and laughing amongst themselves. Elizabeth, though she was certain they were conjuring up inanities aplenty, was relieved to be free of her mother’s attention.

“I am afraid we are about to be embarrassed,” said Mary, as she watched the three ladies whispering. Then she turned a wry smile to Jane and Elizabeth. “But I suppose that is truly nothing out of the ordinary. And it should not be a surprise.”

Elizabeth knew there was nothing to say to Mary’s words, and she refrained from stoking the fire. Instead, she turned and fixed her elder sister with a playful grin.

“Though Mama appears to be on the verge of ordering your wedding clothes for Mr. Darcy or Lord Chesterfield, I suspect the other gentleman caught your eye.”

Jane blushed. “Mr. Bingley was agreeable. I find him to be quite the handsomest man of them all, and very attentive too.”

“And I suspect you are correct, Jane,” replied Elizabeth, thinking back to what she had witnessed the previous evening. “Not only was he attentive to you all evening, but you were also the only lady with whom he danced twice.”

Her blush becoming rosier, Jane attempted to change the subject. “What of you, Mary? You danced with both Mr. Bingley and Lord Chesterfield. Who did you prefer?”

“Mr. Bingley is, indeed, a good man,” replied Mary. “But Lord Chesterfield is much like him in essentials. They were both at ease, spoke intelligently, and are both handsome, whatever Lydia may say. I like both men very well, indeed.”

“As do I,” said Elizabeth. “And I am certain Mr. Darcy will also improve upon acquaintance, particularly once he becomes accustomed to our society. For myself, I have nothing to say against any of the gentlemen we met last night, though I cannot say as much for the sisters.”

“Oh?” asked Jane with a frown.

“Jane,” said Elizabeth gently and with patience, “Miss Bingley showed far more evidence of thinking herself above her company than Mama accused of Mr. Darcy. Did you not see the disapproving looks she gave to us all?”

“I saw nothing of the sort,” replied Jane. “She was affable to me. She is to keep house for her brother. I am sure we shall be the best of friends.”

Elizabeth caught Mary’s eye, and though they did not say anything, she knew they were both of one mind about the younger Bingley sister. But Jane found great difficulty in finding any new acquaintance anything other than lovely and amiable, so Elizabeth held her tongue.

“Mrs. Hurst seemed tolerable,” said Mary. “I only spoke with her for a few moments, but she impressed me as a kind woman.”

“I did not speak with Mrs. Hurst,” said Elizabeth. Jane also stated she had not had any contact with the elder sister. “But I have great hope for them all. If nothing else, new faces are welcome to liven our gatherings.”

The sisters agreed to Elizabeth’s statement, and they moved on to other topics.

––––––––

A T NETHERFIELD, A SIMILAR conversation was taking place, but the particulars were different from what was being discussed at Longbourn.

“In short,” Miss Bingley was saying, “the society here is quite without any redeeming qualities. There is no fashion, a want of propriety, and little beauty to be found among them.” Miss Bingley turned her considerable displeasure upon her brother. “I am quite put out that you signed a lease in such a backward part of the kingdom without even consulting with me or ensuring the society was at least tolerable.”

“I have no notion of what you speak, Caroline,” replied Bingley. “In fact, as our visits from the neighborhood gentlemen informed me, the people here are obliging and friendly. It almost seems we attended different functions last night, for I found the assembly to be a pleasant diversion.

“In fact,” said he, when his sister glared at him, “I had thought you were coming to know some of the local ladies. Did you not say that you found the eldest Bennet agreeable?”

“I believe I said tolerable, Charles,” replied Miss Bingley. Her superior sniff was one which seemed to convey a wealth of meaning, all of it bad. Darcy would not have been surprised to learn that she practiced it in front of the mirror constantly to get it just right.

“Jane Bennet seemed, indeed, to be a sweet girl,” said Mrs. Hurst. “Though I did not have the chance of speaking with her. The third girl, Mary, was also quite agreeable.”

“I am certain there is no one worth knowing among them . Miss Elizabeth is impertinent, Miss Mary is dull, and the two youngest are the most outrageous flirts I have ever seen.”

“They are only young, Miss Bingley,” said Fitzwilliam. His complacent smile informed Darcy that he was quite diverted by Miss Bingley’s displeasure and was not at all above tweaking her nose. “We were all young once, were we not?”

Miss Bingley colored at the reminder of her own years—three and twenty—without a hint of a proposal of marriage. Darcy knew that the woman could have had at least one, perhaps more, had she not focused her attention on Darcy to the exclusion of all others.

“I believe, Lord Chesterfield, there must be some effort made to correct the high spirits of youth. A woman of Mrs. Bennet’s ilk seems more likely to encourage such behavior than provide a check.”

Though Fitzwilliam’s amusement never dimmed, he nodded to indicate his agreement. Unfortunately for Miss Bingley, her victory was short-lived.

“While you may be correct about the youngest Bennets, I cannot agree with you regarding the elder. Miss Bennet is, as your brother has claimed, an angel. But while Misses Elizabeth and Mary may not be quite so angelic, Miss Elizabeth’s wit is so disarming, I found myself captivated by it. And Miss Mary, though not so witty or pretty, is an agreeable girl too. She is sensible and engaging. What man could not find such a woman pleasant?”

Miss Bingley did not seem to know what to say. But she soon rallied, more was the pity. “You found the society acceptable?”

“It is much like any other society of its kind, Miss Bingley. There are estimable people, and there are those with whom one would prefer not to associate. No one can like everyone he meets, after all—the disparate nature of characters renders that impossible. Do you not agree?”

“When you put it in such a fashion, I suppose you must be correct. I had never considered it so.”

“I understand,” replied Fitzwilliam. “I have, as you know, experience with the lower levels of society and have learned to look for the good in everyone. There are undoubtedly some who consider those of the first circles to be less than estimable. I know among many of higher society there are men who are despicable in character and women who are selfish and vain, all of whom I would shun forever, given the choice. And yet, nobility can be found in the lowliest foot-soldiers, men who have never known the inside of a drawing room. Nobility, Miss Bingley, is largely a function of character, rather than birth.”

Miss Bingley nodded slowly, clearly mystified. “That is an . . . interesting viewpoint for a viscount to hold.”

“Ah, but I have not always been a viscount,” replied Fitzwilliam. “I have had much more opportunity to learn of the true nature of the world than many a noble, born to his station and unwilling to look beyond the narrow confines of his own opinions.”

“Your father must not espouse the same ideals,” said Miss Bingley.

It was a direct challenge, one which Fitzwilliam met with relish. “I care little what my father believes. But, Miss Bingley, my father does not disagree with my opinions as much as you might think.”

“Is there any sport today?”

“I am certain we could come up with something, Hurst,” said Bingley. Darcy shook his head—Hurst could always be counted on to interject with comments concerning his shooting; it was one of his only pleasures in life. Of course, since his other pleasures included food and drink in copious amounts, and he almost always indulged in those loves, Darcy thought Hurst was largely content.

“Then we shall leave you to your sport,” said Miss Bingley, seemingly eager to be out of their company.

The gentlemen were soon on the grounds of Netherfield with their rifles, the dogs, and a number of Netherfield’s footmen. They shot successfully, soon bagging a brace of pheasants for that night’s dinner. But whereas Hurst was usually the most accurate shooter of them all, that day, Fitzwilliam shot more birds.

“It appears you used the time in the army wisely,” grunted Hurst after Fitzwilliam had made a particularly fine shot. “Were you as deadly when facing the French?”

“More so,” said Fitzwilliam with a devilish grin. “Pheasants are small and quick and can be difficult to shoot, with their weaving to and fro. Your average French soldier does not wish to move from his croissants if he does not have to, which makes him a much easier target.”

Hurst barked with laughter. “So, the tyrant has managed to conquer large parts of the continent with nothing more than a rabble of croissant eaters?”

“I may have exaggerated, though only slightly. But in answer to your question, yes, I have had some success against the French.” Fitzwilliam sobered. “Though I may make jests of it at times, it is only so that the horror of war does not overwhelm me. It has always seemed to me that making war is a poor way of settling grievances.”

“I expect it is, Lord Chesterfield. I expect it is.”

Hurst went on ahead, walking with Bingley back toward the manor, while Darcy walked with his cousin, allowing his friends to move some distance ahead of them. When he judged it unlikely they would be heard, he turned to Fitzwilliam.

“Well, Lord Chesterfield, it seems you have made a true friend or two, and you have only been at Netherfield for a few days!”

Fitzwilliam shot him a pained look. “It seems to me, Darcy, that you only use my title when you have something witty to say or you are angry with me. Whichever it is, I would prefer a return to informality. I have been naught but ‘Fitzwilliam’ to you for years. I would prefer it remained that way.”

“I suppose I do mean to be witty,” replied Darcy, scratching his chin. “But not overly so. Hurst is a simple specimen. If you can talk about guns or hunting, or you can sit by him and become soused with pleasure, you have made a lifelong friend. Miss Bingley, however, is a little more demanding.”

Fitzwilliam snorted. “Great wealth and connections?”

“The very same. I dare say this sojourn in Hertfordshire might be the most tolerable I have ever spent with the woman, for she has a much bigger fish to catch. I am only a gentleman, after all.”

“You sell yourself short, old man,” replied Fitzwilliam. “I am quite sure she does not mean to put all her eggs in one basket. I would not be surprised if she maintained her interest in you while attempting to ply her trade with me .”

Though Fitzwilliam’s words were a jest, Darcy found he could not laugh. They were no more than the truth. He would need to be as much on his guard as he ever was when in the company of Miss Caroline Bingley.

“I am curious,” continued Fitzwilliam. “You said little concerning society this morning. I know your tastes do not mirror my own, but might I assume that you have found it at the very least tolerable?”

“As you so eloquently stated,” replied Darcy, “it is much like society in any other part of the kingdom. The estates in this neighborhood are small and the people are at times a little unpolished, but I know of no true harm of them.”

“But?” asked Fitzwilliam, successfully catching the hesitation in Darcy’s response.

“It is nothing. You know I do not always make a good impression when I meet people.”

A snort was Fitzwilliam’s response. “That, my dear Darcy, is something of an understatement.” Fitzwilliam paused and laughed. “In fact, had I not stepped in last night, I think you might have made a faux pas which would have set your character as disagreeable for all the neighborhood.”

Darcy could not help but grimace. “Bingley knows better than to importune me to dance. He is well aware that I am not a great dancer and that I am out of sorts the first night in any new society.”

“That he does,” replied Fitzwilliam. “But all is well. I distracted Miss Elizabeth and danced with her before you could insert your foot into your mouth. I dare say she was a pleasant and pretty girl, indeed.” Fitzwilliam regarded Darcy for a moment, before saying: “I seem to recall you speaking to her later in the evening as well.”

“We did speak for a few moments. She is quite witty, though I wonder if she possesses more impertinence than she ought.”

Fitzwilliam laughed. “Perhaps she does at that. But it is not out of the common way, and her observations are so humorously done that one cannot take offense. I gained the impression that she is quite popular in the neighborhood. You should be thankful you did not insult her.”

“I am,” replied Darcy. “I would not wish to insult anyone on so little acquaintance.”

“Or provocation.”

Darcy agreed with his cousin and allowed the subject to drop. They continued to the house, and after the chill of the day, Darcy was happy to warm himself by a cozy fire in Bingley’s study. Soon—too soon—both he and Fitzwilliam would be required to brave Bingley’s dragon of a sister again. If not for her, Darcy thought Netherfield might almost be pleasant.