Chapter 20

Meryton Church

Sunday, 15 th December, 1811

Mr. Allen looked down at the pulpit and announced, “I publish the Banns of marriage betweenMr. Charles Bingley of Kensington and Miss Jane Bennet of Meryton. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in Holy matrimony, ye are to declare it. This is the third time of asking.”

Elizabeth glanced at Jane, who was seated next to her, her blue eyes shining like stars. A moment later, Jane turned her head toward the other side of the church, where Charles Bingley was sitting at the end of the Netherfield pew, his lips stretched in a besotted smile. Elizabeth could not suppress a grin; her dear sister would soon be married to the man she loved.

Her gaze drifted farther down the pew, and she felt herself shiver as her eyes met those of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, who was undeniably staring at her, though he quickly turned his face turned toward the front of the church.

Elizabeth also forced herself to look at Mr. Allen as he spoke the Collect for the day. She generally had no difficulty in paying attention to the church service, and she usually found it inspiring and encouraging. But today, in spite of her best intentions, her thoughts wandered along other paths. Lydia’s words from the previous day rang in her head…

“We think you should marry Mr. Darcy,” Lydia had repeated brightly, undeterred in the face of her sister’s shock. “It would be perfect, Lizzy, just imagine! You are clearly well-suited, you know; you are both intelligent and love books and chess and enjoy arguing!”

Elizabeth lowered her knitting needles. “That’s absurd, Lyddy.” She took a deep, bracing breath before continuing. “Mr. Darcy would never consider marrying me; he is, after all, very highly born and has a great deal of wealth and status. Whereas I…”

“Whereas you are the daughter of a gentleman,” Kitty interrupted, quietly determined, “and are therefore a perfectly eligible bride.”

Elizabeth laid aside her needles, taking a moment to make certain that her yarn did not slip and to collect herself.

“I do admire Mr. Darcy very much,” she admitted. “He is an intelligent, sensible, and wonderful man … but I am not about to go throwing myself at him or setting my cap for him.”

“Good,” Lydia said decidedly, “because Miss Darcy says that is what all the ladies in Town do, and he hates it. They flatter him and simper at him and flirt with him, and he detests all of it. Indeed, she said that he dislikes Miss Bingley for this very reason – have you noticed the way she hangs on his sleeve?”

Elizabeth had noticed, of course, just as she had noticed – and derived some amusement from – the way it visibly annoyed Darcy.

“You should not gossip about Miss Bingley so,” she said automatically and reached for her needles again, needing something to occupy her hands. “Well, I certainly will not flatter him.”

Lydia ignored this sisterly correction. “I know you will not,” she approved. “Continue to not flatter him, as it is working. Just think how wonderful it would be to capture Mr. Darcy!”

“Lyddy, don’t be vulgar,” Elizabeth remonstrated.

“Lydia is right, though,” Kitty pursued. “He already rather likes you. Just do not change what you are doing, and perhaps he will like you enough to make an offer.”

Elizabeth was silent for a few stitches. It was an odd notion, and it sent butterflies fluttering through her stomach. It seemed fantastical that Mr. Darcy might make her an offer but, she admitted to herself, it was a most appealing thought. Not that there was anything she could do to bring about an offer; it was entirely dependent on the gentleman to speak first.

“Think about it,” Lydia had advised, and Elizabeth, rather to her embarrassment, now found that she could hardly stop contemplating a possible match between herself and the handsome master of Pemberley.

/

Netherfield

Tuesday, 17 th December

Darcy sat in the straight wooden chair beside the window, watching the sky outside. It was not particularly prepossessing, being both gray and murky, but he drew interest from tracking the puffs and swirls of cloud tumbling over each other, the dim sun almost at its zenith. Behind him, Bingley was pacing before the fire, impatient for the arrival of the carriage bringing his betrothed and her family. Today, Bingley and his party would be meeting Miss Bennet’s aunt and uncle from Cheapside.

Caroline sat close to the fire, in full complaining flow. Darcy had tuned her out after seeing Georgiana well-established near to the pianoforte with Mrs. Annesley, who was fortified with her basket of knitting beside her. Hurst dozed in a chair, and his wife perched decorously on a nearby love seat, adjusting and readjusting her bracelets.

“You can always retire to your room if you like, Caroline,” Bingley said wearily, breaking into Darcy’s thoughts. He turned to look at Miss Bingley, who was, with the permission of her doctor, now limping around the house instead of using a crutch or being carried. The added mobility made the lady more of an annoyance, but at least she was still avoiding stairs, so he and Georgiana could ascend to their bedchambers if they wanted to escape her grumbling or flattery.

“I have no intention of abandoning Mr. and Miss Darcy,” Miss Bingley said loftily, pointing her nose skyward. “Given that Mr. Gardiner is a tradesman, he and his wife will doubtless be dreadfully vulgar. I am willing to sacrifice a few minutes of my time to keep them entertained so that they do not bother our guests. I can only hope that they understand the need to confine their visit to the requisite thirty minutes.”

Bingley glared at his sister and said, “They are not typical morning guests, but rather beloved relations of Jane and her sisters, and I have invited them to stay for dinner!”

Caroline groaned aloud, which caused Georgiana to flash an uncertain look at her brother. Darcy attempted a smile, though he thought it might appear more like a grimace.

As much as he disliked Caroline Bingley, he found himself in agreement with her at this moment. It was rude of her to show her disdain so openly, but he suppressed a wince at the memory of Mrs. Phillips, the Bennet girls’ other aunt. He had no doubt that she was a kind woman, but he had observed firsthand that she was even more loud and vulgar than Mrs. Bennet. He had spent as little time as possible near her and Mr. Phillips, but now he contemplated the necessity of that changing.

Were he to offer for Miss Elizabeth – if she were to accept him – he would necessarily have to fraternize with her extended family, even the ones he thought distasteful. Most likely he would even have to invite them to visit, and it would be possible – perhaps, probable – that they would. His sweet sister had rarely mingled with the lower classes and was not prepared for the vulgarity of Mrs. Bennet’s siblings. If she was shocked and distressed, might it not be his duty to set aside his own heart and desires for her well-being? If she were horrified at the idea of spending extended time with vulgar relations-by-marriage, could he subject her to such a thing?

Darcy’s thoughts were broken by the sound of footsteps outside the room, and a moment later, the door opened, and the butler entered, bringing in a waft of cool air with him. He also brought Miss Bennet and her four sisters, along with an unfamiliar man and woman. Darcy hastily stood up, and Hurst, who had been drowsily sitting by the fire, did so as well, though more slowly.

“Jane!” Bingley said, hurrying forward with a beaming smile. “Will you please introduce us to your relations?”

“Of course,” Miss Bennet replied and turned to the unknown couple. “May I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, our aunt and uncle from Gracechurch Street. Aunt and Uncle, Mrs. Hurst, Miss Darcy, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Annesley, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Hurst, and Mr. Bingley, my fiancé.”

Darcy bowed as the newcomers bowed and curtsied appropriately, and Mr. Gardiner said, “It is a great honor to meet you all, thank you. Mr. Bingley, may I congratulate you on your upcoming marriage to our niece? I am confident you and Jane will be very happy together.”

“I know we will, and how very blessed I am,” Bingley replied fervently and then gestured toward the fire. “But come, please do sit down, and perhaps you can call for tea, Jane? Or would you prefer to do so, Caroline?”

“My ankle still aches considerably,” Caroline said with tight lips. “Pray do go ahead, dear Jane.”

Jane nodded and walked over to the door where a maid was waiting, and she gave quiet orders while the others distributed themselves around the room. The younger Misses Bennet sat near Georgiana, where they began speaking of making wreaths and knitting booties.

Darcy found himself relaxing. So far, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were entirely unlike Mrs. Phillips and Mrs. Bennet; they were not at all loud or vulgar, but quiet and genteel and refined. His sharp eyes noted the fine cut of Mr. Gardiner’s coat and the quality of Mrs. Gardiner’s understatedly elegant morning gown. He did not know how successful Mr. Gardiner was in his business, but many a merchant’s wife decked herself in silks and feathers and shining jewels to show off. Indeed, Miss Bingley took great pride in dressing with tasteful ostentation, determined to overwhelm those around her by spending more than she ought on clothing.

He listened to the conversations flowing around him. Mr. Gardiner had seated himself near to Miss Bennet and Bingley and was now having a light discussion with the latter about Netherfield’s hunting park and pond. Mrs. Gardiner settled gracefully into the couch across from Mrs. Hurst, and the two ladies conversed civilly about the current plays running at the theater.

His attention turned to the door as it swung open. A pair of maids entered, carrying silver trays with the tea service on them. Jane stood to intercept them with a gracious smile, directing them to the table near at Bingley’s hand and dismissing them with a quiet word of thanks before beginning to pour. Darcy watched as she skillfully poured the tea, quietly inquiring after the tastes of the Netherfield party and preparing her own family’s with long familiarity.

He smiled mechanically as she bore his cup over to him, standing to accept it. “Thank you, Miss Bennet.”

“You are welcome, Mr. Darcy,” she replied serenely and returned to the tea service.

Mrs. Gardiner, seated nearby, turned towards him with a smile and said, “Mr. Darcy, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance because my family of birth hails from Derbyshire, and I grew up in Lambton, which is, as you know, very close to Pemberley.”

Darcy, who had stiffened at the woman’s attention, relaxed and even smiled a little. “Lambton is a charming little village, Mrs. Gardiner. May I ask the name of your father?”

“Mr. Arthur Wynn. He held the…”

“Lambton living!” Darcy finished and smiled more sincerely. “I do not think I ever met your father personally, but I know that my father respected him greatly.”

“He was a good man,” Mrs. Gardiner said with a nod, “not as intellectual as some parsons, not like Sydney Smith for example, but the Lambton living was a good one, and he was not an ambitious man. He wished to serve the people of the community, and he fulfilled his duties with enthusiasm and diligence.”

“That is admirable and appropriate. Have you been back to Lambton recently?”

“I have not, though I would enjoy a visit if my husband can find the time to do so. His business keeps him busy, but we had thought of visiting the Lakes this upcoming summer, with, perhaps, a stop in Lambton.”

“If you do, I hope you and your husband will pay us a visit at Pemberley,” he said promptly and was rewarded with a startled look from Georgiana, who had obviously been following the conversation.

He smiled reassuringly at his sister as Louisa Hurst reclaimed Mrs. Gardiner’s attention. The tradesman’s wife had surprised him considerably; he had been prejudiced by her sisters-in-law, but Mrs. Gardiner was utterly charming. She was, he thought, more refined than Miss Bingley. He smiled to himself, remembering Miss Bingley’s words some months ago about how a lady must have a little extra something in her air and her speech and her mannerisms in order to truly deserve the title of accomplished. Mrs. Gardiner, he thought, had more of that extra accomplishment than snobbish, petty Miss Bingley.