Chapter Eight

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By the time they entered the house, Mrs. Bennet and her younger daughters were nowhere in sight.

Winston informed his master that Elizabeth had taken her mother and sisters to “see the invalid,” and Darcy could not help expressing a sigh of relief that he would be spared the matron’s company for at least a quarter of an hour.

“Good. Thank you, Winston,” Bingley was saying to his butler. “It will give Mr. Darcy and I time to make ourselves presentable.”

A nod was his only reply, and the two turned almost in unison toward the stairs. Lord Rowarth followed, trailing Darcy into his rooms.

“I suppose you mean to give me further unsolicited advice,” Darcy groused as he moved toward the dressing room.

“No, indeed,” Rowarth replied. “I only mean to excuse myself from the cloying advances of Miss Bingley for as long as can be done.”

Darcy turned as he opened the door to the dressing room, where Vincent now awaited him. “You do not have to go down to meet Elizbeth’s mother and sisters, Philip. In fact, you do not even have to remain at Netherfield at all.”

Rowarth waived off his words. “Balderdash, Darcy. You need me here while my father seeks evidence to prove Malford’s involvement in your abduction.”

“I do not need you,” Darcy muttered as he went in to get changed from his riding clothes.

“I reiterate that you do,” Rowarth called after him.

Darcy snorted as he was removing his jacket and chose not to reply.

“Dare I ask to what his lordship refers?” asked his valet in a low voice.

Sitting first so that Vincent could remove his boots, Darcy then said, “My cousin is of the belief that I am in need of assistance in wooing a lady.”

“I cannot say that he is correct or mistaken,” Vincent said.

Darcy arched an eyebrow as he regarded the servant. “I sense a ‘however’ in your tone.”

Vincent pulled off his stockings before replying. “Not precisely, sir. Only that I am acutely aware of your reluctance to interact with those young ladies whom you believe seek only your fortune and connections.”

Darcy stood again so that his dusty breeches could be removed, shaking his head as he did so. “Not Elizabeth. In fact, she is quite the opposite of the young ladies I am used to meeting in town.”

“Is that so?”

Darcy nodded as he stepped out of his breeches, then reached for the buttons of his waistcoat and began to undo them. “The truth is, Vincent, that I am sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention. I find myself disgusted with the women who are always speaking, and looking, and thinking for my approbation alone.”

Vincent helped him remove his shirt before speaking again. “I see, sir. The young lady in question must rouse and interest you because she is so unlike them.”

The simply spoken words made Darcy suddenly feel as though he had been punched. “Upon my word, man. I do believe you are right; I recognized that her wit and intelligence intrigue me, that she is different from the darlings of society, but not precisely why she fascinates me so. It is most definitely because she is very little like them. And what makes her different makes her… quite beautiful.”

Silence fell between gentleman and servant as the former was helped into fresh clothing, though when Vincent was tying his cravat, he wore a little smile.

There was no subtlety in the smile his cousin wore when at last he walked out of the dressing room. Darcy ignored Rowarth’s knowing expression and made straight for the door. They met Bingley in the hall and together went down to the drawing room.

“Oh, Charles, are we to be invaded by every Bennet in the county?” Miss Bingley complained immediately upon their entrance.

“Caroline, I expect you to be polite,” Bingley said sternly.

“But Charles! We cannot subject dear Lord Rowarth to such a vulgar lady and her insipid daughters!” his sister protested, before she turned a simpering countenance toward the viscount. “Really, sir, I cannot understand how dear, sweet Jane Bennet came from such a lady. Hers is absolutely not the society a revered gentleman of rank such as yourself would wish to be exposed to.”

Darcy watched with interest as Bingley stepped toward her. “Caroline, do refrain from speaking ill of the relations of Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. You will be civil and welcome them warmly.”

Miss Bingley scoffed and rolled her eyes before she stood and sauntered over to Rowarth’s side. “Lord Rowarth, if you do not wish to be in the company of persons whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath your own, I would be more than happy to join you in taking a walk about the garden.”

“No thank you, Miss Bingley,” Rowarth replied curtly. “I have already had a walk in the garden today with Miss Elizabeth; such a charming young lady she is. I should be delighted to make the acquaintance of her mother and sisters.”

With that, he moved away from her to stand at the window, leaving Miss Bingley to struggle with whether she ought to follow or return to her seat. After a moment, she chose the latter and rejoined her sister on one of the sofas. Hurst, Darcy mused, was either in the billiard room or his own chambers, as he was the only resident of the house not present.

About ten minutes passed before a footman opened the door and the Bennet ladies were ushered in. Elizabeth took the lead, an apology on her lovely face, followed by Mrs. Bennet, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.

“Mr. Bingley, you remember my mother and sisters,” said Elizabeth.

“Indeed, I do, Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley replied cheerfully. “Welcome to Netherfield, Mrs. Bennet. Ladies.”

Mrs. Bennet preened at the welcome, Miss Mary’s dour face changed not at all, and Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia giggled like the silly little girls they were.

“You will remember my sisters, ma’am,” Bingley went on, gesturing to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. “As well as Mr. Darcy.”

“I do, sir,” said she with a polite nod at the women before turning her nose up in his direction.

Clearly Mr. Bennet has not made his wife aware of the truth, Darcy mused silently. For she thinks as ill of me as ever.

Gathering patience about himself like a cloak, he took a step toward the visitors to do his part in welcoming them. “Good morning, Mrs. Bennet. Ladies,” he began politely. “May I present to you a new acquaintance? This gentleman is my cousin, Viscount Rowarth.”

Rowarth bowed as Mrs. Bennet and Mary curtsied; Kitty and Lydia gasped and looked to one another, the latter crying out softly, “A viscount!”

Elizabeth shot her sisters a stern look. “Kitty, Lydia,” she admonished them softly, before introducing them properly.

“Mrs. Bennet, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Rowarth said, “and that of your lovely daughters.”

“Oh, my good sir, you are very kind!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “I do not like to boast, of course, but my daughters really are among the prettiest in all of Hertfordshire. Especially my dearest Jane—have you had chance to meet her?”

Bingley frowned, which led Kitty and Lydia to giggle again. Elizabeth drew a breath, likely to correct them, but Mary spoke to them first, quietly urging the two younger girls to “Hush!”

“I am afraid, ma’am, that I have not had the pleasure as yet,” Rowarth replied. “The eldest Miss Bennet has been above stairs since before I arrived, I’m afraid.”

“Well, when she is well again, I am certain you will find her to be the loveliest creature you ever beheld,” said Mrs. Bennet, before she turned to the original speaker of that description of Jane to say, “Mr. Bingley, I do so appreciate your generosity in allowing dear Jane to convalesce here at Netherfield. I am afraid that I must trespass a little longer on your kindness, for she is quite too ill to be moved.”

“I regret that I must agree with Mamma, Mr. Bingley,” added Elizabeth. “While her fever is less as of this morning, she is still very weak.”

Bingley smiled genially. “Then I shall not hear of her being moved.”

“Miss Bennet will receive every possible attention, ma’am, while she is with us,” said Miss Bingley in her usual supercilious tone. “And Miss Elizabeth is more than welcome to remain and tend to her, of course.”

“Oh, of course!” the matron chirped. “We have little need for Lizzy at home at the present.”

Mrs. Bennet then looked around her. “Oh, my dear Mr. Bingley—what a lovely room you have here.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bennet,” Bingley replied. “But I must give the credit of the decoration to my good sisters, for I could not dress a room to save my life.”

“I daresay that is a shortcoming shared by all men,” quipped Elizabeth with a smile.

“I cannot say you speak in error, Miss Elizabeth,” offered Bingley. “Is that not so, Darcy? My lord?”

Darcy inclined his head in silence as Rowarth laughed. “Indeed, Bingley, for I’ve yet to meet any man who has an eye for setting a room as good as that of a lady.”

Mrs. Bennet then sat herself primly on the end of the sofa that faced the one on which Bingley’s sisters sat. The lady drew a breath to speak, though she was held off by Elizabeth asking, “Mamma, have you seen Charlotte Lucas since I came away? I sent her a note to ease her concerns after Papa informed us he had sent out inquires as to my whereabouts the other day, but she has not replied.”

“Oh yes, she came by with her father yesterday, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet replied. “Mr. Bennet was certain to inform them again what had happened when they asked after you. I said I was sure it could be no trouble at all to Mr. Bingley to keep you as his guests while Jane recovers from her cold.”

“I quite agree, Mrs. Bennet—it is no trouble at all,” said Bingley with a smile even as his sisters’ expressions momentarily showed their displeasure.

“My Lord Rowarth,” Mrs. Bennet said next, “May I inquire as to how long you plan to stay here in the country?”

“I am afraid I shall have to return to my father in London in a day or two, Mrs. Bennet,” Rowarth replied.

Darcy looked at his cousin and wondered whether he spoke in earnest or was simply avoiding making a commitment to the lady, as he’d given no indication he intended to depart in the near future.

“Oh no! No, I simply cannot have that, sir!” Mrs. Bennet cried, leading to another fit of giggles from her youngest daughters. “You cannot go until you have met my dear Jane, and she may be ill for several days yet! I assure you that you will find no lack of society here, my lord, for we dine with four-and-twenty families.”

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst both snorted softly. Kitty and Lydia giggled again, Mary remained impassively silent, and Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed a rosy red.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Mamma, do remember that Lord Rowarth is the son of an earl. He has responsibilities which far exceed the pleasures of staying with friends in the country.”

“Lizzy, I am sure that a viscount can delegate many of those responsibilities to his servants,” Mrs. Bennet countered dismissively, before she suddenly stood and asked Bingley to have her carriage ordered.

“Mr. Bingley!” cried Lydia Bennet suddenly as he moved to a bell pull. “I believe you promised at the assembly to hold a ball here at Netherfield when you were settled. It would be a great scandal, sir, if you did not keep your word.”

Elizabeth winced, and Darcy found that he could almost feel her embarrassment. It had been improper for her sister to put herself forward, when she and the next elder had done little more than giggle and whisper to each other the whole of the visit.

It is no wonder, then, that Elizabeth thinks I would take no notice of her, he mused. It pains me to admit that until the abduction, I cannot say she was wrong. Every inclination I felt towards her I resisted, until presented with a reason to stop.

Lady Catherine, his most overbearing relative, then came to mind, and Darcy felt his own embarrassment. She was as bad as Mrs. Bennet in some ways, as she offered her opinions quite freely—and sometimes loudly, often speaking over others as she refused to consider their position, or the possibility that she could be wrong. His aunt had also made it her business to know that of everyone else in the nearby village of Hunsford, over which she was patroness, and she was not averse to interfering in their lives because she believed she knew what was best. Lady Catherine could be both rude and insulting even while conducting herself with civility, either not caring or entirely ignorant of the fact that her conduct often offended. Her manner was tolerated only because of her rank—were she of a lower class, her neighbors would be more inclined to object.

With a woman such as Lady Catherine de Bourgh as a near relation, how could he have ever faulted Elizabeth for her family’s conduct? It was true that he would never wish to expose his acquaintances to Mrs. Bennet and her younger daughters, but then neither had he ever wished to introduce Lady Catherine to anyone.

On understanding this, Darcy found himself ever more grateful that Pemberley was such a great distance from both Hertfordshire and Kent. Little reason existed to see either lady more than once a year.

When Darcy returned his attention to the present, Bingley was saying that when Jane Bennet was well again, he would begin planning the promised ball. Kitty and Lydia Bennet squealed with delight, Mrs. Bennet praised Bingley for his generosity and kindness—strongly hinting that she expected Rowarth to dance with Jane at the ball—and a look at Elizabeth showed him that she was mortified by their behavior. Relief was evident in her features when a footman entered and said that the Bennet carriage was ready, and she eagerly ushered her mother and sisters out of the room.

“Charles, tell me you are not serious about hosting a ball?” Caroline Bingley said as soon as they had gone.

“Indeed, I am, Caroline. As soon as Cook as made white soup enough, I shall send round my cards,” Bingley replied.

Miss Bingley drew breath, likely to protest, but her rebuttal was halted when Mrs. Hurst placed a hand on her arm. “Caroline, dear,” she said softly. “Just think of how well Netherfield shall look when we have decorated it for the ball. No home in Hertfordshire will compare.”

Miss Bingley sniffed and lifted her nose. “Indeed, Louisa. After all, look at this lovely room, and consider the houses we have been in since the start of our residence here. Not one is even close to being as tastefully decorated.”

Bingley shook his head and rolled his eyes before he turned and walked away from his sisters. Darcy and Rowarth both followed, and when they had all taken a position by the windows, the viscount said,

“Mr. Bingley, I do hope you will not take to heart Mrs. Bennet’s efforts to interest me in a daughter I have yet to meet. Even had I such freedom as you and Will have to choose a bride, I would never interfere where another man has clearly stated his claim.”

Bingley sighed. “I believe you, my lord. Forgive me for any indications of jealousy.”

“You must really care for the lady if a few whimsical insinuations stirred such feelings,” Rowarth observed.

“I cannot explain it, sir, but yes, I do,” Bingley said. “While I was—like any man would be—at first taken by Miss Bennet’s beauty, since taking the lease here we have been often in each other’s company. She is quiet and demure, as is proper for a young lady of genteel birth, but beneath her serenity lies the most generous heart and surprising intelligence. She has not the quickness or wit of Miss Elizabeth, but she is calm and sensible, and really everything I have ever thought to want in a woman.”

Darcy’s astonishment at this speech did not go unnoticed by his friend. Bingley chuckled, then said, “I see I have surprised you, Darcy.”

“A little, yes. I have never known you to speak so seriously or eloquently.”

Bingley shrugged. “A man cannot be jolly all the time.”

“Nor can he be reserved all the time,” said Rowarth with a pointed look.

Darcy narrowed his eyes at him. “Thank you, Philip.”

His cousin held up his hands. “I am only saying that if you could just relax the severity of your posture and your countenance once in a while, Miss Elizabeth might be able to discern your true nature.”

“Oh yes,” said Bingley as he rubbed his hands together. “We must create opportunities for you and Miss Elizabeth to get to know each other better. A ball is quite the occasion for such discourse, though it may be some weeks yet before her sister is well enough to dance.”

“Do you know if the lady likes music?” Rowarth asked.

Darcy nodded. “She does; Miss Elizabeth plays and sings, though not as proficiently as Georgiana.”

“Then at dinner this evening, we must encourage her to join us in the music room after,” said Rowarth. “Surely she cannot object to such a request.”

Darcy glanced at Bingley, who said, “She has thus far, my lord, if you will recall—though given Miss Bennet’s improvement of this morning, perhaps Miss Elizabeth can be convinced to remain with us for a time.”

“Especially if you make the request, Philip,” added Darcy. “I suspect Miss Elizabeth’s civility will prevent her refusing a viscount.”

Rowarth grinned. “Anything I can do to be of service to you, cousin, I shall see done.”

Drawing a breath, Darcy inclined his head. “Thank you. I only hope I do not regret asking.”