Page 3 of What Comes Between Cousins

T HERE WERE SEVERAL events of local society in the ensuing days, and those events always saw the attendance of the Netherfield party. Initially, Elizabeth was certain that their attendance was the work of Mr. Bingley and Lord Chesterfield, who were both clearly fond of society. Mr. Darcy, though he was still reticent, acquitted himself well, and Mr. Hurst appeared to be content wherever there was enough food and drink for his appetite, which Elizabeth quickly determined was vast.

The Bingley sisters, however, Elizabeth thought unappreciative of society, though of the elder she could not be quite certain. Miss Bingley’s performance at the assembly suggested that she would only mingle with the locals with great reluctance. The woman, however, did not behave as Elizabeth might have expected.

“Miss Elizabeth,” said she in greeting when the Bingleys arrived at the Goulding card party one evening about a week after their arrival in Meryton. “How are you this evening?”

“I am quite well, Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth when she had recovered from her surprise to be thus addressed.

“Your sister Jane, is present?” asked she, scanning the attendees for Elizabeth’s eldest sister.

“Yes,” replied Elizabeth. She turned and gestured toward where Jane stood, speaking with one of the Goulding ladies. “We have arrived ourselves not long ago.”

Miss Bingley nodded. “I was hoping to speak with your sister tonight. She is a delightful girl, and I would like to know more of her.”

“You will never hear me disagree with such a sentiment. I quite think the world of Jane, for she is my dearest sister.”

A certain . . . something passed over Miss Bingley’s countenance, but it was gone before Elizabeth could identify it or was even certain that it had appeared at all. Miss Bingley’s eyes darted to the side, and Elizabeth, following her line of sight, noted that she appeared to have been looking at Lord Chesterfield. He responded to the sight of Elizabeth with a smile, but as he was speaking with Mr. Robinson at the moment, he did not approach.

“I hope you have settled into Netherfield?” asked Elizabeth, hoping to avoid an uncomfortable silence.

“We have,” replied Miss Bingley.

“It is a fine estate, though it has been many years since I have visited.”

Miss Bingley seemed to become more interested. “You have been to Netherfield?”

“Its owner is a Mr. Mason,” replied Elizabeth. “He has not visited the estate for some years, but there was a time when he spent perhaps half of the year in residence. His daughter, Penelope, is one of my close friends, though I rarely see her now.”

“That would explain it,” replied Miss Bingley with an absent nod.

She stood there for a few moments seemingly in thought, before she excused herself. Elizabeth watched her approach and then greet Jane, wondering at the awkward conversation they had just exchanged. It was odd, she decided, but then again, perhaps she simply did not share much in common with Miss Bingley, rendering them unable to converse with much success.

“Is your temper yet intact, Lizzy?”

Pulled from her thoughts, Elizabeth turned and noted that Mary had approached her, and was watching with a grin. “I would have expected the woman to attempt to flay you with the edge of her sharp tongue. But I noticed no anger, no release of your wit in response. Might it actually be that she was pleasant?”

“It was uncomfortable, but not tense,” replied Elizabeth. “Perhaps we have misjudged Miss Bingley.”

Mary snorted. “I doubt it. Something has affected her and modified her behavior.”

“Maybe her brother told her she must behave properly.”

“It is possible. I will watch her, regardless. I do not trust the woman.”

Elizabeth nodded in commiseration, and the subject was dropped.

Throughout those days, it was not to be supposed that Mrs. Bennet had given up her design of who of the Bennet daughters should be paired with which of the gentlemen. Indeed, it was often amusing to watch her as she attempted to rearrange the couples to her liking and with little success. One such occasion was playing out not far from where Elizabeth and Mary stood. They were near enough to overhear the conversation.

“My Jane is such a wonderful girl,” said Mrs. Bennet to Lord Chesterfield. “She is always sought after, you know, for she is the mildest, kindest girl in the world.”

“She is quite lovely, Mrs. Bennet,” replied Lord Chesterfield. Though Elizabeth could see immediately that he was nothing less than honest, it was also clear he could see what Mrs. Bennet was attempting to do and was amused by it.

“I hope you are enjoying our society, my lord,” said Mrs. Bennet, preening as if Lord Chesterfield’s praise had been directed at her. “I know we have little to offer but small country gatherings. I hope you find it sufficient.”

“Indeed, I do,” replied he. “I have often had occasion to partake in many levels of society. I find that country manners are as estimable as what you would find in London.”

“Thank you, my lord. You do us great honor!” Mrs. Bennet peered about, and noting that Jane was currently standing alone, she motioned toward her eldest. “But here I am, taking all your attention when I am certain you must be in want of a younger partner. Do not feel you must entertain me, sir. I am certain Jane would be pleased to speak with you.”

“Ah, but Miss Bennet has a partner, madam.” Elizabeth followed his gaze to where Mr. Bingley had just stepped close to Jane, two glasses of punch in hand, one of which he passed to her. “I would not interrupt them for the world. Instead, your two younger daughters are standing together without anyone attending them. I will take it upon myself to do so.”

With a bow at the startled and confused Mrs. Bennet, Lord Chesterfield turned and approached Elizabeth and Mary. “Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary,” said he with a bow. “How are the loveliest Bennet sisters this fine evening?”

Sensing the jest for what it was, Elizabeth caught Mary’s eyes and they laughed together. “For shame, sir. Did you not just agree with our mother that Jane is the handsomest of the Bennet sisters?”

Lord Chesterfield grinned. “If you overheard everything, you might recall that I only agreed that your sister was pretty —not the prettiest .”

“But surely you must acknowledge it,” said Elizabeth, who was firmly convinced of that fact. “Else, I must think you witless.”

“The wonderful thing about this world we live in, Miss Elizabeth, is that there is something for everyone. For example, many men would undoubtedly agree that your sister is very pretty, indeed, and perhaps that might be the consensus view among the majority. But I am certain that there are gentlemen who might prefer you, or perhaps any of your other sisters. And they would not be incorrect, for it would be their opinion.”

“Your words suggest you are one of those gentlemen,” observed Mary.

The viscount returned his gaze to Mary, waggling his eyebrows, and she blushed in response. Elizabeth only laughed.

“Again, I did not say that. I will own that I find something estimable in each of you. But as for who is the prettiest? I should say nothing. If I choose between you, I will compliment one, but insult all the rest.”

Mary and Elizabeth both laughed again. “Well played, sir! Well played, indeed.”

It was to Mrs. Bennet’s credit that she also noticed the attentions being paid to Jane by Mr. Bingley. They encompassed more than just the night at the Gouldings’ home, and soon it became apparent that Mr. Bingley preferred Jane above all other ladies of the area. It was equally obvious that neither of the other two eligible gentlemen favored her, though it was not readily apparent whether that was because they did not wish to compete with their friend or because of other preferences. Though Mrs. Bennet attempted a few more times to have her way, eventually she confronted Jane about it.

“Jane,” said she, one morning when the Bennet ladies were in the sitting-room, engaged in their sundry activities. “I wished to ask you a question.”

“Yes, Mama?” asked Jane.

“It seems to me that you favor Mr. Bingley. Is that true, or is it simply because he is the one showing the most interest in you?”

The fact that it was a rational question, rather than Mrs. Bennet’s usual overbearing manner, prompted Jane to throw her mother an even look. Elizabeth was as surprised as Jane, and she watched to see what would happen.

“I prefer Mr. Bingley, Mama,” replied Jane. “He is an amiable man. I find myself drawn to him.”

“But would it not be best for you to set your sights upon Lord Chesterfield?” asked Mrs. Bennet, a hint of her usual nerves beginning to appear.

“No, Mama,” said Jane. “Lord Chesterfield is an estimable man, to be sure, but I am quite happy to allow him to focus on some other woman.”

Mrs. Bennet was silent for several moments, considering what she had just been told. Several times Elizabeth thought she might object, but eventually, she sighed and nodded to herself, casting her eyes around the room. Her gaze once again rested on Elizabeth herself, as well as on Lydia. For her part, Elizabeth affected not to see it, though she wondered whether her mother had decided she would do for Mr. Darcy or Lord Chesterfield. Mr. Darcy, undoubtedly, for in Mrs. Bennet’s mind, Lydia would be the more likely to capture the viscount.

“Can you believe it?” asked Mary, who was seated by Elizabeth’s side. “Did Mama actually accept Jane’s preference for Mr. Bingley?”

“I am certain she feels that a bird in hand is worth an entire flock in the bush,” replied Elizabeth. “If Mr. Bingley seems to favor Jane, why interfere when her ambitions appear to be on their way to being fulfilled?”

“Why, indeed? Be warned, however—I am certain she means to push you toward Mr. Darcy, for Lydia is obviously for Lord Chesterfield.”

Elizabeth laughed. “You have mirrored my thoughts quite exactly.”

“At least I will not be required to bear her machinations,” said Mary.

“For now, perhaps,” replied Elizabeth, feeling a little smug. “But once Jane is married to Mr. Bingley, and Lydia and I have captured the two cousins, I am certain Mama will turn her attention to you and Kitty. And I have no doubt she will set her sights even higher, for our husbands will be in a position to introduce you to other rich men!”

Mary attempted a dark look at Elizabeth, but soon she joined in the laughter. “I wish I could refute your statement,” said she.

It was a surprise to Elizabeth, but she found she was not at all averse to her mother pushing her toward Mr. Darcy, though Mrs. Bennet’s methods were, as always, suspect. Mr. Darcy, though he continued to be reticent, seemed to Elizabeth to be a man who, when he said something, said it with absolute conviction, and while his opinions were not always aligned with Elizabeth’s, he argued his points with intelligence. Furthermore, when they spoke, he did not speak down to her like so many men would. Instead, his words and the way he listened to her suggested the attention of an equal. It was not something Elizabeth often saw from gentlemen of her acquaintance, who typically regarded women as having little understanding.

On a night when the neighborhood was gathered at Lucas Lodge, the Bennets had, as was their custom and due to the proximity of Longbourn to the Lucas estate, arrived early to be greeted by the family. Elizabeth still felt her friend’s absence keenly, and a few words with Lady Lucas informed her that Charlotte’s mother was in similar straits. They spent a few moments consoling each other, after which Lady Lucas turned away to see to some of her guests. It was then an objectionable presence made himself known.

“I see you are still pining after my sister.”

Elizabeth, who had been contemplating the gathering and considering with whom she wished to speak, turned to see the smirking visage of Samuel Lucas looking back at her. Instantly on her guard—she shared no cordial friendship with the man—she endeavored to end the conversation before it was even started.

“As does your mother, sir. Charlotte has been my friend for these many years. I think it is unsurprising that I should miss her. Now, if you will excuse me.”

“I am happy she does not cling to romantic notions, unlike some I could name.”

Elizabeth knew she should simply walk away. But she had never been able to resist piercing his puffed-up arrogance. The way he spoke of his sister, a woman beloved of Elizabeth, was enough to provoke her ire.

“I have no care for what you think of me, Mr. Lucas. As for Charlotte, I would think that most brothers would not wish their sisters to make such a desperate choice as Charlotte made.”

“Then you would be incorrect,” replied Mr. Lucas shortly. “The estate I shall inherit is by no means extensive. Clothing and feeding my unwed siblings would make it virtually impossible for me to have my own family. You may be assured that if Maria exhibits a similar tendency toward being unmarriageable, she will be required to fend for herself as well.”

“I am certain that a man as self-centered as you will have no trouble throwing off siblings as if they were nothing more than old and worn garments, fit for nothing more than to be used as rags,” said Elizabeth, a fire burning steadily in her heart.

Mr. Lucas only smiled faintly. “I have often had occasion to appreciate your lack of dowry. I would hate to be the one who must gentle your wildness and restrain your tongue.”

“And I assure you, Mr. Lucas,” said Elizabeth, “that even if I possessed fifty thousand pounds and you were a duke, there is nothing you could say which would induce me to marry you. Perhaps you should simply marry yourself. I am certain you are the only person you could ever love.”

Then Elizabeth turned on her heel and marched away from the objectionable man, determined to stay away from him for the rest of the evening. If not for Charlotte’s departure, she might have been able to ignore him. But he had spent years perfecting his ability to rile her, and with Charlotte unable to moderate their interactions, she found she had little patience with him.

“He is correct, at least to a certain extent.”

The sudden voice surprised Elizabeth, and she took an involuntary step back, her eyes flying to the face of the man who had addressed her. It was Mr. Darcy.

“You sympathize with him?” demanded Elizabeth. “So, will you cast off your sister should she remain unmarried?”

Mr. Darcy smiled at her. “I have quickly come to appreciate your passion, Miss Elizabeth, for it is clear you are incapable of doing anything by half.”

Not mollified in the slightest, Elizabeth only glared at him.

“Our situations are not at all similar. My sister, Georgiana, possesses a dowry of thirty thousand pounds. She will have no trouble supporting herself, should it become necessary, and as my heir is a distant cousin with whom I am not at all familiar, my early demise would bring about that end, though Chesterfield and his family would surely take her in.

“But in answer to your question, no I do not agree with your acquaintance, though I understand his position. In my situation, Georgiana will never be required to leave my house so long as I am master of my estate.

“But this estate, as the gentleman noted, is not nearly so large, and it appears Sir William has a large family. Is this not so?”

“Five children, the same as my family,” replied Elizabeth. “Charlotte, Samuel, Maria, and two younger sons.”

Mr. Darcy nodded. “It would , indeed, be a trial to support so many while raising a family at the same time.”

“Perhaps it would,” replied Elizabeth, feeling frustrated at being challenged. “But I do not appreciate the ready manner in which Samuel Lucas throws his sisters off without a second thought. My friend is a good and sensible woman. Yet for the want of connections and fortune, she has been forced into service, raising another woman’s children.”

“I am certain, Miss Elizabeth, that any friend of yours must be estimable. It is unfortunate she has made such a choice. I do not say that I agree with Mr. Lucas’s feelings or that supporting his unwed siblings is impossible. I only state that I understand his point.”

Elizabeth heaved a sigh. “I understand it too, Mr. Darcy. It is just . . .” Elizabeth trailed off, and after a moment shook her head. “I am often unreasonable on the subject of my dear friend. She is too good for a life of service.”

“It is quite understandable, Miss Bennet. I have taken no offense.”

It was with some relief—likely for Mr. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth—that the subject was changed, and they spoke for some moments about other matters. Then Elizabeth noticed another event occurring in the room, and it brought her no small measure of amusement.

A company of militia, long rumored to be bound for Meryton to winter in the town, had marched into the neighborhood amid much fanfare only that week. As Sir William was an affable man, who lived to be civil to all, he had been eager to include them in the gathering. Thus, red-coated officers dotted the room, and though Elizabeth had yet to speak to any of them, they seemed to her to be a pleasant bunch for the most part.

“Is your cousin acquainted with the colonel of the regiment?” asked Elizabeth.

“A slight acquaintance, I believe,” said Mr. Darcy. “He spent some years in the regulars, as you must know.”

Elizabeth agreed that she did, but she did not question Mr. Darcy any further, though she longed to know. They were situated not far from where the colonel was speaking with the viscount, and they could hear much of what was being said. They spoke mostly of military matters, issues of training, and the state of the war. Elizabeth had little interest in the two former, though the latter was of concern to them all. But their conversation was largely unremarkable—or it was until Miss Bingley approached them.

“Lord Chesterfield, there you are,” said she in what Elizabeth thought was too dramatic a voice. “I have been searching for you, but I see you have hidden in the corner here with the colonel.”

“I am hardly hidden, Miss Bingley,” replied Lord Chesterfield. “I dare say I am visible from most parts of the room.”

“That is only because you are such a great, tall fellow,” said Colonel Forster, he a man of slightly less than average height.

“Oh, his lordship is very tall, indeed,” said Miss Bingley. Elizabeth could almost imagine the woman salivating like a dog over a bone. The soft snort from her companion told her that he had seen it himself.

“Height is not everything, Miss Bingley,” replied Lord Chesterfield.

“No, but it certainly assists,” said the colonel. “The men are much more likely to obey when their commanding officer is able to loom over them.”

The two men laughed at his joke, but Miss Bingley appeared quite put out that they were speaking without her input. She continued to attempt to insert comments, but the men were equally adept at parrying them and continuing to speak. Soon she huffed and left.

“Is it my imagination, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, “or does Miss Bingley . . . favor Lord Chesterfield?”

A chuckle was Mr. Darcy’s response. “It is not your imagination, Miss Elizabeth. Would it surprise you to hear that until we came to Netherfield that I had been her target for several years?”

“No, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth, sharing a laugh with the gentleman, “that does not surprise me in the least.”

“Perhaps I should not speak in such a fashion about the sister of a close friend,” said Mr. Darcy, his tone a little rueful. “But she has never been precisely subtle.”

“Your secret is safe with me, sir,” replied Elizabeth. “I shall not tell a single soul.”

Mr. Darcy regarded Elizabeth, amused. “You are a keeper of secrets, are you?”

“Of course, I am, sir,” replied Elizabeth, affecting a lofty arrogance. “I have five sisters, you understand.”

“And that ensures your trustworthy nature?”

“It does. For you see, if I was to break one of my sisters’ confidences, then I would open myself up to having my confidences broken in turn. That would never do.”

Mr. Darcy laughed at Elizabeth’s explanation, and before long she joined him. “Indeed, that would never do, Miss Elizabeth. Then I believe I have no choice but to trust you—and I thank you for that.”

“It is no trouble, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth paused and stepped forward, speaking softly: “I must own that I am no fonder of Miss Bingley than you are yourself, though I will say that she has been quite pleasant since that first night at the assembly. But I do not trust her transformation to last long.”

A queer look came over Mr. Darcy’s face, and Elizabeth realized at once that her action might be taken for flirting. Her cheeks bloomed, and she stepped back, refusing to look at the gentleman to whom she was speaking.

“I apologize, sir,” said she, shame coloring her words. “I had not intended to be so forward.”

“There is no need to apologize, Miss Elizabeth, for I did not suspect you of ulterior motives.”

Elizabeth chanced a look up at him and noted he was smiling at her. Relief flooded through her—it seemed she had not lost his good opinion.

“If you saw my reaction to your words, it is only that I remembered something from the morning after the ball.” He paused and smiled, though seeming a little uncomfortable. “I should not say anything further, for it truly is not proper to insult one’s hostess behind her back. I will only say that you are correct to be wary of her offers of friendship.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I believe I have taken your meaning. I will accept whatever gestures she makes, but will remain watchful.”

Soon after Elizabeth withdrew from Mr. Darcy, returning to her sister Mary. There was something unsettling about her conversation with him, though she knew it was nothing to do with the man himself. They truly should not have been speaking of Miss Bingley in such a fashion, but when she spoke with him, their banter was easy, and the feeling of having known him longer than she had and trusting him had led her to say more than she should.

“Lizzy!” whispered Mary. “Is there something more between you and Mr. Darcy than you have told me?”

“No, Mary,” replied Elizabeth. “But he is an estimable man, and I feel comfortable in his presence.”

Mary looked skeptical, but she did not say anything further, for which Elizabeth was grateful.

Later in the evening, Elizabeth found herself close to the viscount, and she fell into conversation with him. He was an intelligent man, much like his cousin, and Elizabeth found that she was enjoying his company as much as Mr. Darcy’s.

“I must own, sir,” said Elizabeth after speaking with him for some moments, “I had not expected to find such affability in a member of the peerage.”

“Oh?” asked the viscount, his eyebrow lifting in what she took as mischief. “You expect us all to be stuffy, proud, and above our company?” Then he winked. “I have never been called any of those things, but my cousin makes it a habit to give offense wherever he goes.”

Surprised, Elizabeth frowned. “Mr. Darcy? But I find him to be quite agreeable, though it is clear he is reticent.”

“That is because he has become comfortable with you. In fact, Darcy has a reputation in society for being fastidious and unapproachable. Those of us who know him are aware that he is only uncomfortable with those he does not know.”

“Then I am happy he has taken to our society so quickly. He is quite welcome, I believe.”

The viscount thanked her. “As for your question, as you know, I was a colonel for some years, and I have learned much of the nobility of character.” Lord Chesterfield paused and then attempted a smile at Elizabeth, one which was fraught with heavy memories, she thought. “I have met foot-soldiers I consider to be better men than dukes. But if you attempt to betray my secret, Miss Elizabeth, I shall deny it all. I do have a reputation to uphold, you understand.”

This last was said with a wink, and Elizabeth responded with a laugh. “I assure you, sir, that I am well able to keep secrets. In fact, I informed your cousin of my trustworthy nature not an hour ago.”

“Oh?” asked the viscount. “Do tell.”

“Come now, Lord Chesterfield. I just told you I would not betray your secrets. You would not expect me to betray your cousin’s a breath later, would you?”

Lord Chesterfield laughed. “No, I suppose you would not.”

“But I am curious, my lord,” said Elizabeth. “I do not think most viscounts rise to be colonels in the army.”

The viscount sobered immediately. “That is because I have not always been a viscount. You see, I was born a second son.”

It was clear to Elizabeth that she had blundered, and she hastened to give her apologies. But the viscount would have none of it.

“You could not have known, Miss Elizabeth. I am not offended.”

“That speaks well to your character, my lord,” replied Elizabeth. “But I should not have asked such an impertinent question.”

“I have no trouble answering it,” replied Lord Chesterfield. Elizabeth looked into his eyes, and seeing the truth of his words, acquiesced with a nod.

“Two years ago, my brother was killed in a carriage accident. It is because of his demise that I am now my father’s heir.”

“I am sorry to hear of it, Lord Chesterfield.”

“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. My brother was a good man, a father to a young girl. It has been hard. I never expected to inherit—I never wished to inherit. But life, as they say, is fragile. My family has had more than its share of tragedy—Darcy’s mother passed when he was but twelve, and his father’s heart gave out five years ago.”

“My grandmother passed when I was six years of age,” replied Elizabeth. “I had been particularly close to her, and her death was hard for me to understand.”

Lord Chesterfield nodded in commiseration. “Somehow, Miss Bennet, what began as a happy conversation has turned maudlin.”

Elizabeth nodded, though she did not feel like laughing. “I suppose it has, my lord. Perhaps we should speak of happier matters?”

“Agreed.”

They changed the subject and spent the rest of the evening in pleasant conversation. When it was time to return to Longbourn, Elizabeth left with her head full of two men. Lord Chesterfield was an amiable man, to be sure, and she had enjoyed speaking to him. But Mr. Darcy was no less estimable, and she was equally happy she had made his acquaintance.