Chapter 11

Elizabeth strode arm in arm with Jane, enjoying the late autumn sunshine as they walked to the village. "How could anyone be sad or ill at ease when enjoying such views, I ask you?" she said aloud. Her younger sisters and mother walked ahead of her and Jane, chattering excitedly about this and that. The militia had finally arrived in force. As expected, the whole of Meryton was abuzz with the news. This very afternoon, there was to be a parade through the town, and everyone was turning out to greet their brave soldiers.

Their mother looked back at them and gave Elizabeth a confounded look. "What should anyone have to be upset about, Lizzy? I believe our supper with the Darcys went well last night. And with the militia arriving in town, I will bet my life on the notion that all five of you will be settled with respectable husbands soon."

"Is that all you care about, Mama?" Elizabeth asked.

Her mother stopped, wagging a finger at her. "When you are married with five daughters of your own, you will understand, Lizzy. I will not have my daughters starve in the hedgerows when your father is gone."

Her mother marched off, followed by Lydia and Kitty, who giggled at the prospect of finding a handsome soldier to ask for their hands in marriage. Her sisters had said more than once over the past days that even a corporal would do. Whoever the lucky soldier might be, he would surely rise through the ranks quickly when inspired by the love of his new wife.

Elizabeth shook her head as the girls and their mother hurried on, leaving her and Jane to follow several paces behind. Mary was also left behind. Luckily, as Mary was lost in her own world, as was so often her way, she seemed not to mind.

"Mother acts as though we ought to concern ourself with nothing more than finding a husband, regardless of his character or anything more than his purse," Elizabeth said impatiently. "Is not a young woman more than just a pretty face and a set of impressive accomplishments meant to attract a man?"

"You cannot blame her for wanting to see us all settled and taken care of, can you?" Jane asked gently. "She may come on a little too strongly, but it is out of love that she works so tirelessly to see we will be provided for."

Elizabeth let go of Jane's arm, stopping on the dirt lane. "I am more than just a bargaining chip, Jane. By the way she went on last night after coming home from the Darcys' lodgings, you would think there was a proposal coming any day now." In truth, Elizabeth flushed every time she thought of Mr Darcy. But it was obvious that he had no interest in her. On the contrary, Mr Darcy appeared to despise her. It was a shame that it was so, for everything Georgiana had said about her brother had led Elizabeth to believe she might find a friend in him, and perhaps even more. However, what must be, must be. For whatever reason of his own, Mr Darcy had evinced the strongest dislike of her. She had played over every encounter they had had since meeting and could not figure out for the life of her why she irritated the man so. At last, Elizabeth could come to no better conclusion than that he was a proud sort of fellow, and did not choose to be on good terms with anyone who could not add to his own consequence.

"Mama is how she is. There is no use wishing she were any different, because we cannot change her no matter how hard we might try," Jane went on. "As for there being a potential alliance with Mr Darcy, how would you feel about such a thing? I noticed how much you lit up when he was in the room. And he did not fail to notice your wit, or your beauty."

Elizabeth took her sister's arm again and began walking toward town with all haste. "You are mistaken, Jane, surely. I do not think there shall ever be any hope of such a thing. He does not like me."

Jane's beautiful mouth formed a little frown of dismay, and she hurried to reassure her sister. "That is not true. I think he is merely shy, like Miss Darcy. It seems to be a family trait."

"No, this was more than shyness, Jane. I do not know what I have done to him, but I can see it plainly on his face whenever we are in the same room. He does not like me, and that is that. I only wish there was a way to continue our acquaintance with Miss Darcy without having to suffer his presence."

"That will not be likely until Mr Darcy departs for London," Mary said, chiming into their conversation. "I like Mr Darcy. He is very serious and level-headed."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes in Jane's direction but said nothing else about the man. It would not do to argue, since neither of her sisters saw the side of him she had.

When they arrived in town, the streets were already crowded with the many people who had come in expectation of the parade. To Elizabeth's embarrassment, as they came upon their mother, Lydia, and Kitty, they saw they had run into the very people they had been discussing on their way into town.

"Here are my other daughters. You see, girls, we had just been talking of the charming supper Miss Darcy hosted last night, and here you are to give her your thanks as well!" Mrs Bennet gushed.

Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary curtsied, and when Elizabeth raised her eyes, she saw that Mr Darcy had his gaze pinned on hers. She started in surprise. What could he possibly mean by it? Surely whatever mysterious offense she had committed could not be as bad as all this.

"It is lucky we ran into this afternoon. Will you walk with us for a time?" Miss Darcy asked.

That, at least, Elizabeth could agree to whole-heartedly. "I should be delighted," she declared. Though looking rather less pleased, Mr Darcy and Mrs Younge did not attempt to dissuade their charge from the idea. Elizabeth fell into step with Miss Darcy, and they spoke of how pleasant it had been to spend an evening together and how delightful the unseasonable sunshine was. Enquiring into Miss Darcy's plans for the day, Elizabeth was surprised to find that Mrs Younge had strongly encouraged the visit into town as being a valuable chance to see the militiamen. Elizabeth would not have expected it of Mrs Younge. Though her own mother was prodigiously fond of such stratagems, she would not have thought Mr Darcy would wish his sister to do any such thing. But perhaps she had misunderstood. It might have been only that Mrs Younge wished to pay her respects to the militia, or that Georgiana wished for the fresh air and excitement of a walk into town.

After a time, Mary joined them, and there came a little turn in the conversation. Mary asked Miss Darcy a question about Bach's fugues, and the resulting discussion soon became so technical that Elizabeth did not attempt to follow it. Not wishing to interrupt their pleasure in the topic, she quietly fell back. Mrs Bennet soon went off ahead with the younger girls, to act as chaperone and no doubt to see all the excitement of the militia men parading through the town on their way to set up their new barracks.

Elizabeth, Jane, Mr Darcy, and Mrs Younge were left in their own group, as they were not in the least tempted by the parade. Jane fell into conversation with Mrs Younge. Half annoyed and half interested in the chance, Elizabeth realised she must speak with Mr Darcy, or doubtless be left in an awkward silence.

Elizabeth steeled herself, willing to try once more to win over the obdurate Mr Darcy. "Miss Darcy put on a wonderful supper party last night. You must be very proud of her."

Mr Darcy seemed surprised by her comment, though not displeased. "Yes, I am. She worked very hard to please all of you. I am glad to hear she was successful."

"It takes very little to impress us. We are easy-going folk. I believe more stock should be placed on good friendships and easy conversation rather than an elaborate display. What do you think, Mr Darcy?"

"I agree," he replied, and fell silent.

∞∞∞

Darcy told himself he ought not to speak. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was entirely too easy to talk to. And was it entirely a coincidence that he found they had quite a bit in common each time they spoke? It would have been an unsettling degree of contrivance to figure out his opinions and echo them deliberately, but such things had been done before. In her quest to catch his interest, Bingley's sister was rather fond of the tactic, professing to love the countryside when he knew her to prefer London or reading when she would much rather go to the theatre. He said nothing for a long while, and then she smiled, turning to walk backward before she went off to join his sister.

"I should like to introduce Miss Darcy to some of my friends, if you'll excuse me?" In response to his nod, Elizabeth walked off with only a backwards wave. Soon Mrs Younge fell in beside him.

"She is a persistent one, isn't she?" the older woman asked.

Darcy was not entirely sure he agreed with her, especially as he watched her warm smile when greeting Georgiana. The young woman seemed so very genuine in all her attentions. Whenever they met an acquaintance or friend, Elizabeth was sure to introduce Georgiana and praise her in the warmest light. Nor did her friendship seem put on. In watching them together, Darcy would have sworn that she genuinely liked Georgiana.

They went through town, weaving in and amongst the people crowded throughout to greet their brave warriors, who would no doubt soon be off to fight off Napoleon's advance. Each time they stopped and spoke to some acquaintance of the Bennets, Darcy was not sure what impressed him more — the friendly wit with which Elizabeth spoke to everyone, or the dedication with which she presented Georgiana to all as a most charming friend. Perhaps it did not matter whether she was quite sincere. She was helping Georgiana, and that was enough. If she expected anything from him in return, she would be sorely disappointed.

When they reached the end of the street, she had introduced Georgiana to at least half a dozen groups. Each had begun in reluctance, but quickly warmed upon Elizabeth presenting Georgiana as her friend and showcasing some of her best qualities. He tried not to notice that Elizabeth looked particularly beautiful, smiling in triumph at the success of her campaign.

"Well, you look as if you successfully met everyone in Meryton, sister."

"All thanks to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I was afraid I would never be accepted here after the blunder I made at the assembly that first night. But you have smoothed the way for me," Georgiana said, turning to her friend. "I cannot thank you enough."

Darcy could not quite suppress a smile at seeing Elizabeth flush slightly under the praise. "They deserve to know what a wonderful person you are, Miss Darcy. I assure you, I only made the introductions. It is your sweet and unassuming nature that won them over."

Darcy looked away. He must not put too much stock in her words. He would not place too much weight on them, or allow himself to imagine how congenial a companion Elizabeth Bennet would be in daily life, how charmingly her cheeks might flush in a kiss. It was folly for him to consider anything of the kind.

It was not long before their visit came to a close. As they walked back to their rented house, Georgiana repeated over and over her thanks and gratitude for the service Elizabeth had done her. As soon as they entered the house, Georgiana went to her room to freshen up for tea. Several of the people they had met on their walk had promised to come calling, and she wanted to be at her best to receive their guests.

Mrs Younge cleared her throat when Georgiana had gone. "Mr Darcy. Do you have a moment?" she asked. She waved her hand toward the drawing room and he followed her. She closed the doors behind them. Darcy looked at her in surprise.

"How do you feel that went?" she asked.

"For an impromptu visit, I believe it went well. It was kind of Miss Elizabeth Bennet to take Georgiana around to her friends like that. The introductions seemed to have worked a considerable change."

Mrs Younge clasped her hands and sank into a chair near the window. Upon observing the look of concern on her face, Darcy felt the peace that had come over him during their walk abruptly vanish. "What is it, Mrs Younge? You know you may speak freely with me."

She seemed hesitant to go on but nodded once in decision. "I have heard a rumour, Mr Darcy. One I fear will anger you."

Darcy's blood began to pound in his head. "What rumour is that, Mrs Younge?" He tried to keep his tone steady and calm, as his father had taught him. Do not let emotion rule over you, Fitzwilliam. A man who cannot control himself is a slave to his feelings. He had worked hard over the years to be worthy of his father's legacy. In Mrs Younge's company, it was often difficult to remain steady. The lady was not at fault, of course, and would doubtless have been horrified if she knew of his disquiet. It was likely only his lack of ease in society that caused the reaction.

"I have heard a rumour this very day, from Mrs Bennet's own mouth. She was bragging to one of her friends that her second daughter, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, thinks she has been very clever in winning you over by befriending your sister. She believes that if she can pretend to help Georgiana, she can secure a proposal from you by the end of the winter." Mrs Younge stood then and paced, looking appalled. "I hate to see our dear Georgiana used in this way. I do not think it is right, no matter how charming the young woman."

Darcy frowned. "I do not think she is charming."

Mrs Younge stilled, looking him up and down as if she could see right through the lie. "Hmm," was all she uttered. "Even so, I wanted to warn you so you can be on your guard around her. A young woman like that has everyone fooled into believing she is proper and upright. But I know the type. They put on an angelic face until they are married and then all their hidden qualities come to the surface. Have you not seen the defects in her mother's character? Miss Elizabeth Bennet will likely revert to the example she had had on display her whole life and become a silly woman who is only concerned with herself."

Darcy could not seem to find a fitting argument. Mrs Younge was not wrong in saying that women often followed in their mother's footsteps. But it did not seem the case with Elizabeth Bennet. Whenever Mrs Bennet's words or actions had shown a want of propriety, Elizabeth had shown by her reaction and sometimes by gentle attempts to redirect her mother that she did not agree.

There was no need to dispute the point. He looked up at Mrs Younge. "I thank you for the warning, Mrs Younge. You may be assured that I will be on my guard. And now, I have some letters to see to." He dismissed her, and after she had gone from the room, he retreated to the small study that overlooked the garden at the rear of the house. He sat down at the small desk and looked out the window nestled nearby. The garden was starting to wilt and die in preparation for the winter ahead. Even so, there was beauty in death–the leaves turning a golden hue, the hillsides barren after a plentiful harvest. Yet the quiet beauty of the scene could do nothing to alleviate his disgust.

Darcy was not one to be trifled with. He was heartsore, and not just because Elizabeth Bennet had endeavoured to use him for her own selfish pursuits. He had begun to believe she could not really be as charming and witty as she was if she were playing a part. Some of that could be feigned, but there was a naturalness to her speech, an easiness that could not be contrived. Yet perhaps he might be wrong. She might simply be more skilled an actress than any he had yet encountered. The two possibilities seemed impossibly opposite — the innocent, sincere young woman, or the jaded and self-seeking fortune hunter willing to trifle with Georgiana's affectionate heart to get what she wanted. It hurt him to the quick that he did not know which she was.

Perhaps it was too optimistic to believe her disinterested in her offered friendship. Surely, she would not be interested in him for anything other than his money, awkward and shy as he was. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was beautiful, witty, utterly charming. It was surely too much to ask for her to be altruistic and disinterested with regard to fortune as well.

To distract himself, he retrieved a letter that had come from his good friend Bingley that morning. He broke the seal and unfolded the missive, leaning back in his chair to read.

∞∞∞

Dear Darcy,

It was good to hear from you, and I am glad to hear you are both doing well as of your last letter. We have missed seeing you and Miss Darcy these last weeks we have been in London, and pray you will indulge us in spending an evening at the opera in our box when you and your sister come. Caroline bids me to write that she hopes Miss Darcy is settling in nicely at Meryton, and hopes we may all come to see her come spring. I should not mind taking a house there myself, if you find it as pleasant as Mrs Younge described to you.

I tire of London already. You know I enjoy the excitement of balls and galas, but I find as I get older that the crowds, incessant noise, and filth make each trip to London more of a burden than a joy. Perhaps you might favour me with your advice. I think more and more that I should like to find an estate outside of London where I might spend the warm seasons of the year.

May it not be too long before we meet again, old friend. I shall look forward to your gaining your company amid all the bustle of Town.

Best regards,

Bingley

∞∞∞

Darcy closed the letter and set it aside, smiling. He felt he could almost see Bingley's cheerful smile in every line and every blotted, carelessly written word. Bingley had sense enough, but he certainly made no pretence of being a scholar. He would much rather be out of doors, riding horses, hunting, or fishing. Darcy would have liked that, too, but the realities of running such a large estate as Pemberley, and all the business ventures that contributed to the estate's well-being, took much of his time away. It was a blessing to have an estate so far removed from the busyness of London. Perhaps he would look around and see if there was anything satisfactory for his friend to let in Hertfordshire, as Bingley had hinted. Then again, it might not be the best plan, seeing that Mrs Bennet was on the prowl for rich men to marry her daughters. With his five thousand a year, Bingley would certainly qualify.

He wrote a quick note to his friend, detailing when he could be expected back in Town, then sealed it and set it in the box for the butler to retrieve later. He left the study, heading out to the garden to walk and clear his mind. Mrs Younge's words seemed to have upset his thoughts. No good could come of puzzling over the benevolence or selfishness of Elizabeth Bennet's motives. He would do much better to remove her from his thoughts entirely.