Page 24 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
“Have you seen Charlotte since I left, Mama?”
“Yes, she called yesterday with her father. Sir William is an agreeable man, is he not, Mr Bingley? A man of fashion, so genteel and easy. He always has something to say to everybody. That is my idea of good breeding. Those who fancy themselves so very important and above their company, throwing insults at young ladies haphazardly, quite mistake the matter.”
The deafening silence that followed Mrs Bennet’s rant was torture to the fragile Elizabeth. She pretended she had not heard her mother’s barb.
“Did Charlotte dine with you?”
“No. She was needed at home to make the mince-pies. My girls do not toil in the kitchen, but then they are not as plain as Charlotte. My Jane! One seldom sees anyone better looking. When she was but fifteen, a gentleman was very much in love with her and wrote her some pretty verses—”
“Yes, and so ended his affection,” Elizabeth interrupted impatiently. Would this day never end? “I fancy many infatuations have been overcome in such a way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love.”
“According to the Bard, poetry is the food of love.” Mr Darcy’s resonant baritone almost made her flinch.
“Of a fine, stout, healthy love, it may be. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet would starve it entirely away.”
Elizabeth could feel Mr Darcy’s eyes boring into her, but she did not meet his gaze. She trembled in dread of what her mother might say next. Utterly exhausted, she walked to the window, embraced herself, and gazed out into the withered garden. Behind her, Mrs Bennet continued to flatter Mr Bingley, who was unaffectedly civil. When her mother finally called for the carriage, Lydia put herself forward and begged Mr Bingley for a ball he had mentioned in passing at the assembly. Elizabeth’s mortification was complete, and her relief was palpable when her family left after extorting Mr Bingley’s promise to arrange a dance.
Elizabeth returned instantly to Jane and left it to the Netherfield party to make critical remarks about her family.
#
The next evening Jane was much improved. Her fever had broken, but her cough remained.
“You should join our hosts for a while, Lizzy.”
“I shall, but only if you come with me, dear Jane.”
“You know I cannot. I would be mortified should I break into a coughing fit in front of Mr Bingley. But you must go and express our gratitude for his hospitality. I do not want him to find fault with the Bennet sisters’ manners.”
“I doubt that he will. He is too much inclined to think well of you, and he has proved himself to be a solicitous gentleman, even towards me.”
“What do you mean, even you?” Jane frowned. “You speak as if you do not deserve every consideration, and I heartily disagree with that notion.”
Elizabeth kissed her sister’s hand. Jane was her staunchest protector, and though she never saw fault in anyone, Elizabeth knew that Jane held her in the highest regard a sister could manage.
“I only meant that I am not the lady his heart desires, yet he is very attentive to my needs.”
“He is everything a gentleman ought to be,” Jane agreed.
“Yes. You have mentioned that fact quite a few times already, and I have not disputed it once.”
Jane tried to glare at her but failed miserably. She giggled, but that endeavour sent her into a long coughing fit.
“You should not speak,” Elizabeth admonished. “It only makes you cough. For the sake of your rest, I shall oblige you and join the rest of our party. If Mr Bingley is present, I promise to leave him in no doubt of our gratitude. Would that suffice? Please, do not speak. You need only nod, and I shall be gone.”
Jane smiled with watery eyes brought on by her coughing. Elizabeth smiled back at her sister until she had closed the door. Her cheeks ached from forcing the gesture, and she rested her head against the cool panel. She took a fortifying breath, shoved herself from the door, and descended the stairs.
The Netherfield party was assembled in a front parlour. Elizabeth curtseyed and stood close to Mr Bingley. Jane would enquire whether she had remembered to thank the gentleman, and Elizabeth made certain her mission on behalf of her sister was accomplished.
Miss Bingley requested she join the sisters. They were having a dispute and needed a mediator to negotiate the difference in their opinion.
“What do you think, Miss Eliza? I must have your opinion upon a subject because my sister is no help at all. Mr Darcy has been hinting about a pair of fine eyes he encountered in town, and I wonder what it means.”
“Perhaps Mr Darcy is engaged to be married?” Elizabeth enquired.
She dared a glance at the object, who had his nose in a book, but his eyes did not travel across the page.
“He is not, and definitely not to the aforementioned lady. He engaged the Irish miss for a set because of a wager with his cousins, Viscount Crawford and Colonel Fitzwilliam. They are the sons of the Earl of Matlock.”
