Chapter 16

Drawing Room

Netherfield

After Church

Caroline Bingley straightened in her chair and tilted her head toward the open door of the drawing room. She smiled at the sound of her brother’s voice; she was thoroughly bored here at Netherfield alone and was relieved that those attending church had returned.

A moment later, her smile faded away and her brow wrinkled in frustration. Based on the additional voices in the corridor outside, the party had grown to include Jane and Elizabeth Bennet. It was maddening; was it not bad enough that Jane would soon be mistress of Netherfield? Must Charles take every opportunity to invite his fiancée and annoying sister to the estate?

Frustration gave way to horror as Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty Bennet, the loud, obnoxious, forward, insolent, stupid youngest Misses Bennet, appeared in the doorway, dressed in their Sunday best, their faces alight with smug pleasure. Caroline had no doubt that both girls spent hours each day discussing how to wrest money from Charles, who would soon become their brother by marriage. Really, how could her brother be so stupid?

“Miss Bingley!” Kitty exclaimed, her cheerful smile giving way to a look of sympathy. “How are you feeling? How is your ankle?”

Caroline was torn between her natural desire to complain and her disinclination to show weakness to a Bennet.

“My doctor and the apothecary both say that I am healing well,” she said finally.

“I am so glad,” Kitty said, just as the Hursts, and the Darcys, and Charles, and the rest of the Bennet daughters surged into the room. Caroline, who had looked forward to spending some quiet time with Mr. Darcy, felt a strong urge to scream in resentment. At least Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were not present. If the solicitor’s daughter had been invited, Caroline would have stumped off to her room on her crutches, regardless of how silly she looked!

“Caroline, Louisa, do you mind if I call for tea and sandwiches?” Jane asked. Caroline compressed her lips in exasperation; given that she was lame, she could no longer act as mistress of the house, and Louisa did not particularly enjoy ordering meals and the like. That did not make it any less irritating that Jane was directing the servants before the wedding had even taken place.

“That would be delightful, my dear,” Charles said, walking over to gaze lovingly at his fiancée. “Absolutely delightful.”

There was a flurry of movement for a minute as the party dispersed about the room. Caroline watched in dismay as the two annoying youngest Misses Bennet tripped over to sit, side by side, on the loveseat nearest her own couch. Louisa stood beside the pianoforte, sorting the sheet music there, and Mary Bennet drifted rather shyly over to engage her in conversation. Caroline fumed silently as Jane Bennet smilingly ordered tea and scones and sandwiches from the maid, before crossing to sink gracefully into the seat across from Charles, leaning towards him most unbecomingly. Mr. Hurst collapsed into the chair closest to where he stood, gazing blankly at the fire across the room, hands limp on the arms of his chair.

“Miss Bingley,” Lydia said, turning a limpid gaze on the crippled lady, “may I say that your dress is glorious?”

Caroline felt her lips turn up a little in spite of herself. She had, with a great deal of assistance from her private maid and a younger servant, gowned herself in one of her most expensive morning dresses, a delicious confection of blue silk with an ivory overlay and ribbons and lace aplenty. She had aimed to impress Mr. Darcy, but she was not displeased to amaze these country bumpkins. “Why, thank you, Miss Lydia. I had it made by my dressmaker, Madame Abeurt, in London.”

Lydia’s eyes opened wide with admiration. “Is she French?”

“Of course she is. She was forced to flee during the Terror. She is very gifted.”

“I can see that. Our own dressmaker is well enough, but she cannot make anything nearly as elegant as your gown…”

“Have you read Evelina by Miss Frances Burney?” Miss Darcy asked, drawing Elizabeth’s nervous attention away from Lydia and Kitty. Her younger sisters were prone to being loud and vulgar, and while she did not like Miss Bingley, she had a certain amount of sympathy toward the lame woman; it was not as if she could easily flee the younger Bennets if they grew too annoying!

“I have,” Elizabeth responded after a moment. “I quite liked it. It is an epistolary novel, which is an interesting way of portraying a story.”

“I believe I have a copy in London, Georgiana,” Mr. Darcy commented. “If you would like to read it, I can have a servant fetch it for you.”

“Oh, that is not necessary, Brother. We will return to Town eventually and I can read it then.”

“We have a copy at Longbourn,” Elizabeth remarked. “I would be glad to lend it to you.”

“Thank you. That is very kind.”

“Are you enjoying Netherfield, Miss Darcy?”

“Oh, very much!” Miss Darcy said, her eyes bright. “I love the country. The air is so clean compared to Town, and I like the open fields and trees. Meryton is charming, too. Have you been to London often?”

“Not often, but Jane and I visit my aunt and uncle in Cheapside on occasion. I enjoy the theater and the museums and the shops, but I am always happy to come home.”

Darcy winced at this reminder of the Bennets’ tradesmen relations, but Georgiana did not seem concerned in the least.

“I understand completely,” she said. “London never feels like home the same way that Pemberley does.”

The door opened at this juncture, and servants entered with tea and sandwiches and scones, which caused Mr. Hurst to sit up with a grunt. Elizabeth took her cup of tea and plate of scones, both happy and relaxed. Miss Darcy was proving a charming young lady, Lydia and Kitty were behaving surprisingly well, and Jane and Charles would be married in less than two weeks.

/

Kitty’s Bedchamber

Longbourn

Midnight

Kitty curled up happily in her bed, nestling her head down on her pillow. She was tired, her bed was wonderfully comfortable, and her mind was filled with pleasant thoughts of the day. She had not anticipated enjoying herself as much as she had, considering Caroline Bingley’s open disdain for country folk. The officers in Meryton were much more pleasant companions, with their fulsome compliments to the Bennet sisters’ beauty and charm!

Yet Kitty had found she scarcely missed them today. Miss Bingley was condescending and occasionally snide – and much less subtly than she gave herself credit for – but the woman had attended an excellent finishing school and knew well how to carry on a conversation that might flag. Caroline Bingley’s knowledge of London fashions was extensive, and Kitty eagerly listened to talk of silks and muslins and ribbons and colors and the latest styles of dresses and pelisses and ball gowns.

Kitty knew that she was not an intellectual like Lizzy. She did not thrive on discussions of deep subjects and was more than willing to be flattered by a handsome officer in a fine red coat. But she had enjoyed talking about fashion and London, and listening as Caroline spoke of the parks and the promenades and the theaters and the assemblies.

She had been slightly bored when Georgiana Darcy went to play on the pianoforte, shy and uncertain but tentatively willing. Kitty found music dull unless there was also dancing, no matter how technically proficient the player might be. But she had sat and listened attentively nonetheless, hands folded decorously in her lap; if she hoped to win a wealthy husband, she had best start learning to listen to other people play.

Lizzy’s performance was more interesting, because she sang as well as played, though Caroline Bingley had listened with a faint smirk and commented at the end, “I do think you would benefit from more practice, Eliza.”

Kitty bristled at this unmistakable insult, but Lizzy had merely turned on the bench, smiling, to say cheerfully, “Indeed I would, Caroline, but I find myself more interested in other pursuits.”

“What other pursuits?” Louisa had asked politely.

“My walks, of course, and reading, and sometimes I play chess with Father.”

Mr. Darcy had been gazing into the fire, one arm on the mantelpiece, throughout this interlude, but he had turned at these words. “Indeed? And are you a good player, Miss Elizabeth?”

Kitty’s elder sister had given the gentleman a rather pert smile. “I have been known to win against my father on the very rare occasion, sir, and he is quite the finest player of my acquaintance.”

Caroline had opened her mouth to make another snide comment, but Darcy had forestalled her with a sweeping gesture towards the game board set up along one wall. “It has been long since I have played a game of chess against a skilled opponent, for Bingley does not play. Would you care to try a game, Miss Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth had cared. It had proven a very exciting match indeed, for both the players and the spectators. Mr. Darcy was undeniably skilled, but the Bennet sisters had watched with bated breath as their Lizzy gave him a challenging game. She had eventually lost, but Kitty had derived a certain satisfaction from watching the intense concentration on Mr. Darcy’s face, a furrow between his brows as Elizabeth systematically took his bishop, both rooks, and eventually his queen.

But it was Miss Darcy whom Kitty had observed covertly throughout the evening. She held little desire to become like Miss Bingley, or even Mrs. Hurst; who were fashionable and handsome but disdainful to all below them, and thus obnoxious and largely disliked. Miss Darcy was born higher, and bred gentler; she was quiet, modest, and kind, if painfully shy. It was her behavior that Kitty would need to emulate, if she ever wished to enter high society and attract a wealthy husband.

She was growing drowsy, ready to slip into sleep, when her door creaked open and her blankets were lifted with an uncomfortable whoosh of cold air as her younger sister slid in beside her.

“Lydia, do go away,” Kitty murmured. “I am too tired to talk.”

Not surprisingly, Lydia paid no heed to this request. “Kitty, I have the most wonderful idea. I think that Mr. Darcy should marry Lizzy.”

Grogginess fled at this incredible remark, and Kitty rolled over in bed to glare at her sister, not that Lydia could see her expression in the darkness. “Lizzy marry Mr. Darcy? Do not be absurd!”

“What is absurd about it?”

Kitty groaned aloud in an exaggerated way, as she struggled to put her thoughts together in a way that Lydia might possibly accept.

“Firstly, Mr. Darcy is very rich and highly connected and would not lower himself to marry into our family. Secondly, he disdains her, and you know it. He called her ‘not handsome enough to dance with’ at the assembly. Thirdly, and more to the point, Lizzy does not like him! Of all the silly ideas…”

“It is not silly,” her sister replied indignantly. “We may not be as fashionable as London folk, but we are the daughters of a gentleman. And as for Mr. Darcy – I have been watching him, and I am quite certain he likes Lizzy well enough.”

“Whatever makes you think that?”

“Did you not notice how much time he spent talking with Elizabeth today? He played chess with her, and he and Lizzy and Miss Darcy spoke at length of books.”

“He was probably looking out for his sister. He seems very protective of her. I do think you are imagining things, Lydia!”

Lydia huffed in response, and Kitty cringed a little. When Lydia grew angry, she became loud, and Kitty was exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep.

“Besides,” Kitty continued in a more placating tone, “our cousin Mr. Collins said that Mr. Darcy is engaged to his cousin, the heiress of Rosings, Miss de Bourgh.”

Lydia huffed again and said, “I would not trust Mr. Collins as far as I can throw him.”

Given that Mr. Collins was tall and portly, that was not very far at all.

“I quite agree,” Kitty said. “But he might be correct, in which case Mr. Darcy is not available to wed Lizzy or anyone we know.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Lydia said, to Kitty’s surprised relief. “But even if I am wrong, there is no harm in charming the Darcys.”

“If possible.”

“Yes, if possible . I will try to be more like Miss Darcy; I daresay I will never be as reserved and ladylike, but I will be quieter and ask more questions. I expect she would enjoy talking about fashion. Most young ladies do.”

“I do not pretend to know her well,” Kitty mused, “but I think she is more interested in books and, oddly enough, Boxing Day crates for the tenants than fashion.”

“That is very strange,” Lydia replied in disapproval. Silence fell for a minute or two before Kitty said, rather piteously, “Please let me sleep.”

“Very well,” Lydia said, casting aside the blankets and letting another blast of cold air into the bed. “But I expect you to help me make friends with Miss Darcy.”

“Very well,” Kitty said in a longsuffering tone.