Chapter 3

Mrs Bennet had much to say on the subject of Jane’s engagement and she found herself in constant demand with her mother. She thus had little leisure time to spend considering Elizabeth’s feelings towards Mr Darcy until the gentleman himself arrived with the rest of the Netherfield party for dinner the following Monday. That his feelings had not receded was immediately apparent not just by the tell-tale signs of his affection, but since as soon as he could politely do so, Mr Darcy went to her sister’s side. As Bingley submitted to her mother’s raptures, Jane was able to listen to what Mr Darcy spoke of with Elizabeth.

“I have been thinking of our conversation two days ago when you spoke of your visits to your uncle’s house in London,” he began. “Have you travelled extensively?”

“No, not at all,” Elizabeth replied, before adding with evident delight, “although my uncle and aunt have promised that I can accompany them on a tour of the Lakes next summer.”

“Indeed?” Mr Darcy replied. “It is a beautiful part of the country, I am sure you are eager to see it.”

“Yes, very much,” Elizabeth agreed. “I do not know that there is any part of England I long to see more.”

“Allow me to put in a good word for my own county of Derbyshire. Dovedale and the Peaks have a beauty all of their own. Although there are other less celebrated sights that are equally beautiful. I am sure you would take great delight in them.” He smiled warmly, and Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed, the brambles around her beginning to scramble towards him.

“I am sure there are, sir; every county has its attractions known only to the local populace. Even Hertfordshire has one or two.”

Mr Darcy smiled again, and responded in a low voice that Jane could not quite hear. Its effect, however, was plain; Elizabeth coloured and looked somewhat astonished…but not displeased.

Throughout the evening, Mr Darcy devoted his attention to Elizabeth. Jane was delighted, although Miss Bingley less so. Jane could not trouble herself with Miss Bingley’s disappointed hopes, however, not when Elizabeth’s prospects looked so promising. Occupied with Mr Bingley, Jane endeavoured not to watch them too closely, but it soon became clear that no gift was required to discern their increasing regard for one another. When the gentlemen re-joined the ladies after dinner, Mr Darcy was once again at Elizabeth’s side, and they were soon deep in conversation. Elizabeth spoke with animation, her companion listening closely, occasionally interjecting a comment. When she laughed, his eyes swept with admiration across her face and a blush rose on her cheeks, making his smile grow still broader.

By her side, Mr Bingley also observed his friend’s behaviour. “I would never have thought to see Darcy so enchanted, but your sister has done it! There will be a match there for certain.”

“They are only at the very beginning,” Jane replied, “but having secured such happiness ourselves, there is nothing that could make me happier than to see Lizzy well married too.”

“If Darcy hurries himself a little, we might marry all together.”

“I would not hurry them along,” Jane returned, smiling affectionately at Mr Bingley’s enthusiasm. “Love must grow for itself, if it is to grow at all. It cannot be forced.” Despite her caution, however, she harboured similar hopes for the couple so engrossed in one another’s conversation.

The following day, a party was formed to walk into Meryton. Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy arrived shortly before their departure and naturally offered to accompany them. They quickly took their places by the sides of their preferred sisters.

On reaching Meryton, the younger girls immediately spotted an officer of their recent acquaintance with an unknown man at his side. They rushed forwards, eager to be introduced to the handsome stranger. Jane sighed to herself to see the sharp little buds of attraction that accompanied her sisters’ enthusiasm. To Jane’s eyes they were spring shoots tempted into growth by a mild winter, too young and fragile to grow into the kind of love that could survive a heavy frost.

The rest of the party followed their sisters at a more dignified pace, except for Mr Darcy who stopped abruptly in his tracks, his face growing suddenly pale. The stranger stared too, and reddened. They both froze in place, until the stranger turned abruptly back to the sisters, his face smoothing into a pleasant smile. He was introduced as Mr George Wickham, and to Lydia and Kitty’s great delight, he was soon to join the militia.

Jane leant in to whisper to Bingley. “Do you know Mr Wickham?”

Bingley shook his head. “Not at all. Why?”

Evidently he had not noticed his friend’s reaction. Elizabeth had, however, for she was looking sharply back and forth between the two of them, before apparently giving up her attempts to understand. She accepted the introduction with a placid smile, although one or two small bramble shoots betrayed a little more interest in the handsome Mr Wickham than she outwardly displayed.

Mr Darcy had moved away from the group and was not included in the general introductions. To Jane’s surprise, however, the branches of his affection began to behave in a fashion unlike any she had seen before. The strong basket willow stems, instead of growing towards Elizabeth, began to weave together into a sturdy fence, standing between her and Mr Wickham. Troubled, Jane instinctively reached out to grasp Elizabeth’s hand. To her surprise, as she made contact, Elizabeth gasped. She stared into the space before her, then glanced rapidly at Mr Darcy before recoiling suddenly, wrenching her hand away. She gazed at Jane wide-eyed, but before either could say anything, Mr Darcy was at her side.

Elizabeth protested that she was perfectly well, but her face was immensely pale and she was soon whisked into a shop where she was found a seat and urged to rest until she was quite recovered. Jane followed her in concern, but there was no opportunity to speak or to understand what had caused Elizabeth’s discomposure. She said little, and would only glance sidelong at Mr Darcy, continuing to insist that she was perfectly well. When her sisters had all completed their purchases, she was easily persuaded to return to Longbourn but remained at Jane’s side, and barely acknowledged Mr Darcy again.

By the time Jane had the opportunity to speak to Elizabeth, she had concluded that what she had seen demonstrated a rather pleasing wish to protect her sister from some harm known only to himself. Elizabeth, however, took a very different view of matters.

“Why did you show me that today?”

“Show you?” Jane asked, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I saw it—I saw what you can see. Or I thought I did, although it did not look at all as you described it,” Elizabeth replied, pulling a shawl around her as she huddled on the bed.

This is wholly unexpected. Jane felt a thrill of delight that she had been able to share her gift with her sister, albeit unknowingly. “What did you see?” she asked excitedly.

“Mr Darcy’s feelings, apparently,” Elizabeth replied disdainfully. “Although I could not call them affection, for they were not growing towards me, precisely. They reminded me less of a plant than of an enclosing fence—a barrier between me and Mr Wickham. Is that usual?”

“No,” Jane confessed. “You saw as I saw. I cannot explain it, I have never seen anyone’s feelings behave in such a manner. It was as though he sought to protect you.”

“Protect me!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “And by what authority would he protect me? I have not sought his protection, nor has he any claim to give it. Whatever you might believe his feelings to be, he has made no professions of love. He is no suitor of mine.”

“He did not act, Lizzy—it is only the expression of his feelings I saw, not a conscious choice. He did not interfere.”

“He wished to! His feelings were officious even if his actions were not, and I do not like it.” She rose from the bed and began to pace as she grew more heated. “What claim does he imagine he has over me that he can set himself up to drive a wedge between me and a new acquaintance?”

“Perhaps there is some reason that we cannot know about,” Jane replied soothingly.

“I am sure there is not. He is merely an arrogant, unfeeling, unpleasant man!”

“Surely that is not—” Jane attempted feebly, but Elizabeth had worked herself into anger and would not subside.

“I should never have listened to you!” she exclaimed. Jane’s face fell despite herself, and Elizabeth quickly moved to reassure her. “Oh, I am not angry at you, dearest. You told me what you saw, but you admit that what happened today is unusual. You must have been deceived in some way. I had almost begun to believe Mr Darcy admired me—but he is just as haughty and unpleasant as I thought! How dare he insert himself where he was not invited?”

“I am certain he admires you, Lizzy. I do not know what it means, but I cannot think it was borne of any unpleasant motive—my gift allows me to see love, not any other emotion. He did not attempt to separate you from Mr Wickham, his feelings merely sought to protect you from some harm only he could perceive.”

Elizabeth, however, was not to be placated. Mr Darcy was insufferable, and by the time Jane had abandoned hope of persuading her otherwise, she almost seemed to have the conviction that Mr Darcy had not only wished to come between her and Mr Wickham, but had physically enacted the separation. Jane, who had believed Elizabeth to be halfway in love with Mr Darcy, went to bed despairing of what had seemed such a promising pairing.