Page 27 of What Comes Between Cousins

A S FITZWILLIAM RODE away from the Bennet estate, he could hardly understand what he had heard there. It was unheard of in their society for a woman of Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s status to refuse a man of Fitzwilliam’s.

“It is almost unheard of for a man of my status to even offer for a woman of hers,” said he to the air around him.

His horse whinnied in response to his frustrated words, though it did not hesitate in its steady progress toward his current place of residence. Fitzwilliam reached down with absentminded affection and patted the beast, earning a further nicker in reply. But his heart was not in the gesture, nor was his mind on his mount. The problem of Miss Elizabeth Bennet consumed his thoughts. He could think of little else.

“She is altogether far too independent,” said Fitzwilliam aloud. He had a captive audience to whom he could vent his frustrations, one who would not reply with impertinence, one who would never betray him. He would use it, and perhaps he would gain some perspective.

“Then again, her independence is the trait which is, perhaps, her most alluring.” Fitzwilliam paused and thought about the matter for a moment. “That and her obvious intelligence, though I will own that there are times when I wish she would show a little more respect. It is not her place to contradict me, after all. The vast majority of young ladies would not even consider it. Like they would not consider refusing me.”

It was a conundrum, indeed. He did find Miss Elizabeth’s independence to be one of her most interesting traits, but at present, it was damned inconvenient.

“Can she not understand what I can do for her?” demanded Fitzwilliam. His horse, content in its cantering pace, decided against responding. “Of course, she understands. She is an intelligent woman. Then why does she not accept my overtures with pleasure?

“And Darcy! Why can he not simply step aside as he should? And why does she seem to respond to him? I am the friendlier, the more amiable.” Fitzwilliam snorted. “To call Darcy amiable at all is to stretch credulity beyond recognition. Darcy is a good man, but he is taciturn to the point of surliness, unapproachable, severe—she would be miserable with Darcy as a husband. Surely she would be happier with a man as open as she is herself.

“What woman would give up the opportunity to be a countess to be the wife of a mere gentleman, even if he is wealthy? I simply do not understand what she is thinking.”

Fitzwilliam chewed on the matter the entire distance to Netherfield, alternately thinking about what he appreciated about Miss Elizabeth and wondering how she could be so blind as to refuse his suit. Netherfield eventually came into sight, but Fitzwilliam hardly saw it. He dismounted from his steed, entrusting it to the care of the stable hands, and went into the house, still chewing on the problem. Once he had changed with the help of his valet, he made his way back downstairs, still considering the matter.

Mr. Bennet did not bear thinking about. The man had made his position clear. If Fitzwilliam was able to persuade Miss Elizabeth, Mr. Bennet would not stand in the way. That did not prevent Fitzwilliam from thinking about how any other gentleman would leap at the chance to betroth his daughter to a viscount, whether she was willing or not. The Bennets truly were an odd family!

“What foul luck is this? The one woman I want has a father who acts as strangely as his daughter. I cannot understand the Bennets at all.”

“I believe, Lord Chesterfield, that it is not for us to understand the likes of the Bennets.”

Fitzwilliam started at the sound of a voice, noticing for the first time that Miss Bingley stood in the entry hall, watching him as he made his way toward the main sitting-room.

“It would be best, I believe,” continued Miss Bingley, oblivious to the fact he had made no response, “to simply forget about the entire family. They can barely be called a gentle family, given the behavior of many of their members. Perhaps it would be best to simply return to town, to once again be among people whom we understand?”

Fitzwilliam regarded Miss Bingley for a moment, wondering how much of his monologue she had heard. Certainly, she had heard his comment about not understanding the Bennets. But what of the rest of it?

“It seems unlikely your brother would agree to return to London at present, considering his newly acquired status,” said Fitzwilliam, choosing to push his questions to the side. Though she attempted to hide her annoyance about the matter of her brother’s engagement, Fitzwilliam could see it as clearly as the bright sun on a cloudless day. “Perhaps you might induce your sister and husband to return with you to London, but if they go your brother, will not have a hostess until his marriage.”

Miss Bingley favored him with what she considered to be a beguiling smile. “I was not only referring to our return to town. I thought it might be best for us all to return. This society is truly not what any of us is accustomed to, and I simply believe it would do us all good if we returned to that with which we are familiar.”

Ignoring for the moment her suggestion that he should quit Netherfield, Fitzwilliam replied: “The problems I previously stated will still prevent such an action, Miss Bingley. I doubt you could drag your brother away from here with a team of horses.”

“Oh, I think it may be accomplished.” The woman’s tone was casual—too casual by half. “If someone he respected were to take him aside and persuade him it is in his best interest to return to town, I am certain Charles will be reasonable.”

“I wonder at what you call reasonable,” said Fitzwilliam, his tone not at all friendly. “Is it reasonable for a man to go back on his word? Should breaking an engagement, an act which is, I might add, specifically forbidden in the society in which we live, to be contemplated? It seems your definition of reasonable is different from that of most others.”

“I find it eminently reasonable,” said Miss Bingley, the rage he knew was coursing through her veins finally making its way into the tone of her voice. “Yes, breaking an engagement should not be contemplated, but when the family is so obviously inferior, when my brother has been tricked into offering for an unsuitable girl, I do not find bringing him to his senses and encouraging him to free himself from her grasping talons to be unreasonable at all.”

“It seems to me you have a different interpretation of recent events. Your brother went to Longbourn and proposed to Miss Bennet of his own free will. There was no coercion involved. She did not attempt to compromise him. In fact, I doubt such a sweet girl as Miss Bennet could fathom making such an attempt. She is a gentleman’s daughter; there is no unsuitability.”

“In matters of fortune and connections, she is entirely unsuitable!” spat Miss Bingley. “Why can no one else see this?”

“I will not attempt to explain it if you do not understand. But let me inform you of a few important facts.”

Fitzwilliam stepped close to the woman, looking down at her and allowing her to see the full measure of his considerable dislike for her.

“The first is that I support your brother to the fullest. He knows his own mind, and since he has decided he cannot live without Miss Bennet, it is his right to choose her.

“The second is that I have no intention to leave Netherfield at present and plan to stay for as long as your brother will have me here.

“The final item I would have you know is that I would appreciate it if you would cease to importune me concerning matters such as this. Do not presume to know what I find comfortable or acceptable regarding society or anything else. The people of this neighborhood are good, honest people, the Bennets no less than any other. I would highly appreciate it if you refrain from assuming my opinions mirror yours. I hope we understand each other.”

With these final contemptuous words, Fitzwilliam stepped away from her. Though he had intended to go to the sitting-room, he changed his destination to the billiards room, knowing Miss Bingley would not follow. With any luck, the room would be empty, allowing him to take his frustrations out on the balls and billiards table. It would allow him much needed time to think.

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T HE STINGING DENUNCIATION Lord Chesterfield leveled at her sister was overheard by Louisa Hurst, and when the viscount stalked away, Louisa stayed out of sight, watching Caroline, wondering what she would do. For a moment she watched him leave, her entire being exuding affront and fury.

Then Caroline turned on her heel, her actions abrupt and her stride jerky as she marched down the hall toward the servants’ area and the kitchen. Louisa had been waiting for her sister’s move, knowing what havoc she was capable of unleashing.

But it would not do to be seen. When she had confirmed Caroline’s destination, Louisa turned and hurried away. A few moments later, she had notified the housekeeper.

“Are the keys locked away?”

“They are, Mrs. Hurst,” replied Mrs. Nichols. “The butler and I are the only ones in possession of the key to the cupboard in which they are kept.”

“Good,” replied Louisa. “Please watch my sister as much as you are able and inform me if she requests any keys.”

Mrs. Nichols paused and spoke carefully. “What shall I do if she demands I allow her access to them?”

“She is not the mistress,” replied Louisa. “She has no business with them.”

Then another thought came to Louisa. The housekeeper, however, looked at her, a hint of dread in her manner, no doubt thinking of how Caroline would act should she be denied.

“If she requests it, you may provide her access to them. But I wish to know of it. I do not need to tell you that Caroline is angry and may very well do something rash.” The housekeeper shook her head. “Should the worst happen, I wish to make certain all the staff are controlled and not able to witness what she does. Mr. Bingley, Mr. Hurst, and I will deal with her. I will trust in your discretion in this matter, Mrs. Nichols.”

Though the staff was paid by the owner of the estate, Mrs. Nichols had been hired, in part, for her discretion. She had been in her position long enough to know when she must hold her tongue. This situation was no different.

“I understand. If Miss Bingley should ask me about the keys, I will inform you at once.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Nichols. Regardless of what my sister said at times, I understand your value to this house and appreciate the efficient manner in which you see to your duties. I know my brother does likewise.”

Mrs. Nichols paused again and then said: “You and your brother are quite pleasant to work for, Mrs. Hurst. The staff and I are happy to assist.”

Once again, Louisa thanked her and excused herself. Caroline had, at times, been so hateful to the staff that Louisa might have expected them to spread stories regarding her with glee. Then again, some of the maids and footmen might anyway. But with Mrs. Nichols’s help, perhaps that could be avoided. Louisa hoped so. She did not wish to be known as the sister of the woman who had attempted to compromise a viscount.

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A S SOON AS HE ENTERED the house, Mr. Bennet requested Elizabeth’s presence in his study. She went without complaint, having suspected he would wish to speak with her about the morning’s events. Elizabeth’s initial shock had given away to ire at Lord Chesterfield’s continual attempts to woo her in face of her clearly stated disinterest. Her father, it appeared, was in a similar state.

“This is a fine pickle in which you find yourself, is it not?”

It was typical for Mr. Bennet to alleviate uncomfortable circumstances with a jest. Elizabeth, however, was not in a mood for his flippant comments at present, a fact which her father seemed to understand at once.

“Lizzy, my dear, do not allow yourself to be cast down because of a proud man’s actions. Surely looking at the matter with a little humor will not make it appear so onerous.”

“That may be,” replied Elizabeth, unable to keep the testy note from her voice. “But at present, I must own that I find little at which to laugh in this situation.”

Mr. Bennet sighed and sat back in his chair. “You are correct, of course. I am concerned. For all that Lord Chesterfield came into his position only a few years ago, he behaves as if he was born to it. I would not call him haughty, precisely, but it is clear he expects to have his own way.

“And then there is Mr. Darcy. I have not missed his attention to you. Though your mother extols his virtues to the heavens, I do not like these men fighting over you as a wolf pack fights over scraps and bones.”

“It is not like that, Papa.”

Mr. Bennet’s eyebrow rose in question. “Oh? Then you should inform me because I am much in need of reassurance. Has Mr. Darcy behaved better than his cousin?”

“He has,” replied Elizabeth. Part of her wished to keep her interactions with Mr. Darcy between them alone, for it was a private, wonderful, and personal matter, one to be treasured and savored. But she knew her father, as her guardian, had the right to know of their dealings together, tasked, as he was, with her safety.

“Mr. Darcy has been nothing but a gentleman, father.”

“The implication being that Lord Chesterfield has not been a gentleman?” asked her father, leaning forward and directing his intent gaze at Elizabeth.

“No, I would not say that. The viscount has never ventured beyond propriety. I have never felt threatened by him. I am only frustrated that he does not seem to understand that I have no interest in him.”

Mr. Bennet snorted. “It is not surprising. Most men of his status are raised to believe they can have whatever they want, whenever they deign to ask for it.”

A nod was Elizabeth’s response. “Though when we first met him I would not have said that was a faithful portrait of his character; it seems to have become so, increasingly, of late.”

“Enough of Lord Chesterfield, then. What of Mr. Darcy?”

Elizabeth considered it and chuckled. “When we first met them, Mr. Darcy presented himself as a taciturn man, and I initially thought him to be too proud to give his attention to so inferior a company as he might find here. But it was soon revealed to be nothing more than reserve, for Mr. Darcy is well able to please the company. He is intelligent and rational, and he speaks to me as an equal. When I speak to Lord Chesterfield, I experience this feeling that he is intent upon flattering me, as if he believes such behavior is the key to a woman’s heart. It is as if he is competing with his cousin for my good opinion.”

“That agrees with my own observation,” said Mr. Bennet, nodding and rubbing his chin his in thought. He paused for a moment. “I had given thought to simply insist you have no contact with either gentleman. But given what you have told me, I do not think you would welcome that. Am I correct?”

When he first suggested he might forbid her contact with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth felt a panic well up within her, which was only forced back down by his subsequent words. Though he appeared to be leaving the decision to her, Elizabeth sensed that her future association with Mr. Darcy was in the balance. Thus, she replied accordingly.

“I do not wish it, Papa. I could cheerfully do without the viscount’s attentions. But I have begun to esteem Mr. Darcy very much. He is . . .” Elizabeth paused and directed a helpless look at her father, which prompted a grin in return. “He is, perhaps, not the kind of man I had thought would turn my head. But I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that he is the best of men, and when he speaks gently to me, I feel my heart responding. No, I would not wish to be barred from his acquaintance.”

“As I suspected,” replied her father. He rose from his chair and came to sit near Elizabeth, his hands upon her shoulders as he gazed directly into his eyes. “I only ask you to be certain as you can about this Mr. Darcy. I would not wish you, my daughter, to be hurt by either of these men, if they are only vying for the attention of the brightest light in the district. If you are certain, then I shall not stand in your way.”

The love she felt in his words touched Elizabeth, and she felt tears well up in her eyes. A verbal response seemed impossible, so she only nodded her head. Mr. Bennet smiled at her and rose to place a kiss on her forehead. Then he returned to his seat behind the desk, and Elizabeth excused herself from his bookroom.

Though Elizabeth thought to return to her room for a little much-needed solitude, her mother appeared to have been listening for her. As soon as she exited the room, Elizabeth heard her voice, beckoning her into the sitting-room. Elizabeth thought of feigning ignorance of her mother’s summons, but she knew Mrs. Bennet would only come looking for her in her room. It was best to simply respond so that she might escape all that much sooner.

“Well, what did your father say?” demanded Mrs. Bennet when she caught sight of Elizabeth. All her sisters were present, Mary and Jane looking at her with concern, while Kitty and Lydia spoke softly together, sending her what they thought were surreptitious looks. Elizabeth contented herself with ignoring them.

“He only wished to ask me about Lord Chesterfield,” replied Elizabeth.

Mrs. Bennet huffed. “And well he should. While Lord Chesterfield presented himself to be a man who was everything amiable and good when he first came, I must own that I now have some reservations about his character. I thought to match him with Lydia, but now I am not certain I could withstand seeing my daughter with a man of his ilk.”

Surprised did not even begin to describe Elizabeth’s reaction to her mother’s words. Mrs. Bennet had never so much as spoken against any man of wealth before—at least not until after they had proven their indifference to her daughters. It was sometimes difficult to remember that her mother had changed much these past months.

“Oh, do not look at me in such a way, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet in a testy tone. “I am well able to see when a man is not behaving as he should. It is clear Mr. Darcy is the better man between the two cousins, even if he is reserved.” Mrs. Bennet turned a warm smile on her eldest. “Of course, our Jane is quite reserved herself, so I do not know that we can label the trait as a poor one.”

Jane blushed but did not say anything. By her side, Mary seemed a little displeased.

“I do not think the viscount is a bad man, Mama.”

“No, I suspect you are correct,” replied Mrs. Bennet, nodding at her middle daughter slowly. “But I do not know what to make of him. His behavior has deteriorated the longer he has been here, and I find myself quite confused about who he truly is.”

“With that, I cannot argue,” replied Mary. Her voice was quiet and introspective, but then again, Mary often was, even with the progress she had made these past months.

“Regardless,” continued Mrs. Bennet, turning her attention back to Elizabeth, “I do declare that it is best that you avoid Lord Chesterfield as much as possible and focus on Mr. Darcy. I am certain he is quite taken by you. Should you only expend a little effort to inform him of your regard, there is every indication that he will make you an offer.”

Mrs. Bennet sighed, a dreamy expression appearing on her countenance. “Two daughters married, and to such good men. What an excellent thought to consider! You will both be happy with such good men, I am absolutely certain, and we shall be saved from the tyranny of the odious Mr. Collins.”

The sisters all exchanged looks, and they smiled, though attempting to hide them from Mrs. Bennet. This was much more like the Mrs. Bennet they all knew, though a tempered version to be certain. In this instance, however, Elizabeth thought her mother was correct. Jane could not be anything other than happy with Mr. Bingley, and Elizabeth’s opinion that she would live a blissful existence with Mr. Darcy was growing daily.

Such silliness again threatened to produce a laugh. Life would provide hardships aplenty, and no one could be in a state of ecstasy at all times. But finding the right man to provide assistance and return that aid throughout the course of her life would be a boon which could not be discounted. And suddenly Elizabeth anticipated his coming again very much, very much, indeed.

“I believe Elizabeth is caught up in thoughts of her beau,” said Lydia sotto voce .

“Of course, she is!” replied Kitty, her response suffused with her typical giggles. “Who would not wish to be the object of that man’s desire?”

“Who, indeed?” asked Elizabeth, intending to turn her sisters’ teasing back on them. “Perhaps if you both behave yourselves, you may find a man who is determined to make love to you too.”

Lydia, however, only ignored her. “I am not certain I would wish to be the object of Mr. Darcy’s affection. Though he carries on charmingly with Lizzy, I believe he might be too stuffy for me, and I would not wish a husband to forever be spouting poetry to me.”

“Trust me, Lydia, it is not a hardship at all to be the recipient of a man’s attempts at wooing you with poetry.”

“Perhaps,” replied Lydia, her tone noncommittal. “Of course, it does not at all hurt that he is as handsome a man as any of us have ever seen.”

The sisters exchanged glances, and they all laughed. Even Mrs. Bennet joined in the merriment. Elizabeth, though she saw the humor in Lydia’s words, contented herself with a few chuckles and a glare at them all.

“He is even more handsome than Mr. Wickham, who we all know has as good of face and feature as anyone else.”

“Lydia!” scolded Elizabeth, ignoring the embarrassment which Lydia’s words provoked. “After all we have heard of Mr. Wickham, how can you speak of him in such a manner?”

“I do not care three figs for Mr. Wickham,” countered Lydia. “I only speak the truth. Can you say that Mr. Wickham is not handsome, almost as much so as Mr. Darcy?”

“I dare say he possesses a pleasant countenance, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet. “But his fairness of face and ability to charm is undone by his vicious character. It renders a pleasing countenance so much less appealing.”

“I agree, Mama,” said Elizabeth, feeling as if her mother was surprising her at every turn of late. “Beauty fades with age, Lydia. I would prefer to marry a good man, rather than a pretty one.”

“What a funny way you have of referring to Mr. Wickham!” exclaimed Kitty. “Pretty, indeed.”

“I expect he thinks that much of himself,” said Elizabeth. “Given how he attempts to make love to us all.”

“Well, I think I can have both,” said Lydia. “Once my foot heals and I can dance with gentlemen again.” Lydia shook the offending appendage—which had improved enough to allow her to walk without much of a limp.

“It seems like Lizzy will be the next one to be engaged,” said Mary, winking at Elizabeth. “The way Mr. Darcy was carrying on yesterday, I am sure he means to propose soon.”

At Mary’s words, there was a chorus of feminine laughter, and a plethora of teasing comments directed at Elizabeth. But she was happy to receive them and parry them in her turn. Never had she felt closer to her sisters, even the youngest, who often tried her patience.