Chapter 9

Nine

With the jostling of moving to dinner, Elizabeth tried to ensure she did not end up sitting next to Mr Darcy. Being confronted by his disinclination for her company would be difficult enough, but she knew her mother would spend half the meal watching them.

If he heard half of what Mama said to me about him and marriage, he would immediately set off to Derbyshire, even if he had to walk the entire distance!

Elizabeth had been talking to Mary, attempting to convince her to be pleased for Jane and forgive Mr Bingley for going away as he had the previous year. After all, she argued, Jane had done so, and it was wrong to hold on to resentment for his past mistakes.

"Jane is too easy on him. He does not deserve her," Mary had said countless times over the ten days since the gentlemen had returned to Netherfield.

"No man does. Yet, I am not content to force her into a life of spinsterhood because of the failings of the male sex. Mr Bingley's behaviour was wrong, but he knows that, and Jane is very, very happy. She loves him."

Elizabeth had made similar arguments several times, and just today, she believed she was making progress. Elizabeth understood her sister's disappointment with both Jane and Lydia—Jane for being too forgiving, and Lydia…well, there was no need to recall why any of them should think harshly of her. A part of Elizabeth remained vexed with Mr Bingley for being too accepting of his sisters and Mr Darcy's wrong-headed advice. Still, she had an added incentive to forget the matter entirely: Mr Darcy. While accepting that he would not repeat his proposal, she still loved him and considered him one of the best men she had ever met. How could she think well of him while thinking poorly of Mr Bingley?

Elizabeth was not certain how it had come about, but despite her efforts, Mr Darcy took the chair next to hers. Seeing the satisfaction in her mother's countenance, it was obvious she had something to do with it.

Thank goodness Mary does not know everything that passed between Mr Darcy and me or how he interfered with Jane and Mr Bingley's relationship. She would take up the nearest poker and beat him with it.

The image made Elizabeth press her lips together to avoid laughing. Her mood instantly sobered when she recalled how Mrs Bennet had interrupted her conversation with Mary to, yet again, sing the praises of Mr Darcy and marriage.

"Jane will soon discover how lovely it is to be a married lady. You will not wish to remain ‘Miss Bennet' for long, not seeing how happy she is. I dare say the same is true of Mr Darcy. Just think—if you were to marry him, your and Jane's husbands would be good friends. You would always be together." Mrs Bennet had continued along this theme until the call for dinner had come, fortunately speaking quietly enough that no one had overheard.

Images of being Mrs Darcy danced in Elizabeth's head.

"Are you not enjoying the soup?"

Elizabeth's head swung to the side, her eyes immediately meeting Mr Darcy's warm brown ones. It had been his deep voice that had startled her. Her cheeks warmed, and she sought to hide her embarrassment by looking into her bowl.

"No, not at all. I-I mean to say, I am enjoying it, I was simply distracted for a moment. Is it to your liking?" She sipped a spoonful and glanced at him.

"Very much. Your cook is excellent."

It was the sort of innocuous chitchat one often had with their dinner companion. It saddened her, knowing how much more interesting their conversation could be when they felt free to share opinions and observations. They would learn from each other while laughing and engaging in light-hearted debates. She forced a polite smile to her lips. His question was surely meant to show that he hoped they might become more comfortable with each other. It would help on those occasions when they would meet in the future.

I shall do my part. Holding onto the past is ridiculous, unforgivably so, considering how unlikely it was that we would ever end up married. Chance brought us together in Derbyshire, and it was never meant to be more than an opportunity for us to acknowledge that we had treated each other poorly in Kent. There. Now that I have understood that, I can be easier with him!

"My mother prides herself on setting a good table. She would be thrilled to know a gentleman of your quality and experience approved."

He chuckled, apparently taking her words for a jest. It had been what she meant to convey, and Elizabeth drank in the way he seemed to relax.

"She does like to entertain others. Doing so well is a particular skill she possesses, and she is fully aware of it. I am sure she has already half-arranged a party to celebrate Jane's engagement with our neighbours. As for the wedding itself, Jane and Mr Bingley had best act quickly before she makes every necessary decision for them, from their attire to the breakfast dishes. I do not expect she will allow them to choose the date, no matter how much they argue they should," Elizabeth said.

His laugh was a little louder this time. "While Miss Bennet might like some say, Bingley will leap at the opportunity to let your mother do it all, if only because it allows him more time to spend by your sister's side. I am very happy for them."

"As am I. When they are kept apart by such inconveniences as it being too early or too late for even an engaged couple to visit with each other, I know Jane will want nothing more than to talk to me about your friend's excellence and her joy. I might find myself devising schemes to escape the house before she can pin me down lest I go mad." She smiled, and it felt more genuine this time.

There was an uncommon mischievousness in his eyes, and he leant closer. "I beg you will not do anything too drastic. I suspect Bingley will be trying my nerves by the end of tomorrow. You and I can form an alliance to preserve our sanity, despite their best efforts to threaten it."

Elizabeth had just opened her mouth to make another joke, when her father called for her attention.

"What was it Patterson told you the other day, something about the north field right by the border between Netherfield and Longbourn? I wanted to tell Mr Bingley?—"

"Must you right now? Mr Bingley is not interested in fields, not when he and Jane only just became betrothed, and Lizzy and Mr Darcy were speaking," Mrs Bennet said from across the table.

As her father insisted there was no reason not to talk about estate business and her mother argued there was, Elizabeth offered Mr Darcy an apologetic look. He shook his head just enough for her to notice, and they finished drinking their soup in silence.

It was just as well. Elizabeth had forgot herself, and by the gravity of his demeanour, he realised he had too. He would worry about encouraging her to hope for more than he could offer.

Mrs Bennet hummed as she sat at her dressing table. Having just dismissed her maid, she reached into the very back of the drawer to extract a small pot of face cream she had been promised would prevent the formation of wrinkles, possibly even erase the ones she saw about her eyes. It had been enormously expensive, and if Mr Bennet ever learnt of it, he would never cease laughing at her. Did he not benefit by her efforts to retain her youthful beauty? She might have five grown daughters, but she did not need to look as though she did; she was only four and forty, after all. She saw her cat in the reflection and spoke to her as she dabbed spots of cream about her eyes and spread it in a thin layer.

"I knew Mr Bingley would not wait long to propose. Jane will soon be mistress of Netherfield Park. She will have her own carriage, and he must have some of his mother's jewels to present to her, even though he has two sisters and his family is not as illustrious as Mr Darcy's. If he does not, I will give him a little hint here and there until Jane has an appropriate collection."

All she needed to complete her happiness was for Elizabeth and Mr Darcy to become engaged. Unbidden, her lips formed into a scowl. Seeing it in the mirror, she quickly schooled her features. She wanted to knock their heads together! Could they not see how much they longed for each other? There had been a brief moment at dinner when they looked especially happy and more at ease together than she had yet witnessed, and then Mr Bennet, the blockhead, had interrupted them!

"Everyone speaks of them being so clever, and they very well might be, but when it comes to him recognising that my daughter is madly in love with him, or her admitting that he loves her, they must be the most ignorant people in all of England! If you saw them together as I did, Felly, you would agree with me."

Placing the pot back into the drawer, Mrs Bennet rose and lifted the cat from her cushion to cuddle and kiss. Walking about her chamber, she hummed a gentle tune just as she had done with her girls when they were babies. Before long, she might have a grandchild to soothe. The thought stopped her movement for a brief moment. She closed her eyes and bowed her head as though in prayer.

"Please let it not be Lydia who has a child, not for several years at the very least. Jane is a good age to be a mother—older than I was when she was born—but Lydia…

"Oh, why am I thinking about that , especially when there is a wedding to plan! A double wedding. Jane and everyone else might believe there will only be one bride that day, but I am determined there will be two. What do you think, my darling little puss? Can I have Lizzy and Mr Darcy engaged and ready to marry by the end of November? Jane and Mr Bingley will not want to wait more than six or eight weeks, and who could blame them? A young couple does not want to delay long after reaching an understanding."

Mrs Goulding's dinner party was in a few days. No doubt, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy would see each other before then, and Mrs Bennet would take every opportunity to throw them together. Then, by the time they met at Haye-Park, they would be practically engaged already. Perhaps he would speak to her that night, or even before!

So delightful was the expectation that she would soon have two daughters married to rich gentlemen—one of them the grandson of an earl—that she giggled and twirled in a circle, her protesting cat clutched to her bosom.