Mr. Darcy interrupted. “I promise not to set my sights on her, Bingley. Will that content you? Besides, Miss Bennet – the one I met in London – is utterly lovely. It is unlikely that yourMiss Bennet – Miss Elizabeth, that is – could compare. I intend no offense, you understand.”
“Aha! So that is the way the wind blows!” Mr. Bingley sounded quite satisfied.
“This particular wind has done nothing but escort Miss Bennet to her family home, and has no intention of doing anything more,” Mr. Darcy said. “In truth, we have scarce exchanged a dozen words. But no one could deny her beauty.”
“Huh! Well, we shall soon see,” Mr. Bingley said, as the carriage pulled up on the gravel path leading to the Longbourn entrance.
Dismounting from the carriage, the two gentlemen gave their hats and coats to the housekeeper, Mr. Darcy noting that there was no butler, and proceeded into the parlour.
All the Bennet ladies were present, from Mrs. Bennet down to Lydia, and there was a good deal of chattering and exclaiming going on. “Oh, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, you find us in quite a state!” Mrs. Bennet said. “Mr. Collins and my Mary are engaged, and of course there is a good deal to be decided on!”
Mr. Darcy had not yet met Mr. Collins, Mary, or Elizabeth, all of whom had been out of the house the day before, and so he introductions were made at once. Mr. Collins acknowledged the introduction politely, but said nothing more about Mr. Darcy’s name sounding familiar.
Mrs. Bennet called for refreshments, and then sat down to receive the congratulations of her guests. She fanned herself rapidly, causing Lydia, who had perched beside her, to complain of her hair being mussed. Putting the fan down, Mrs. Bennet said, “Oh, what could be more exciting than having a daughter married! Particularly to Mr. Collins!”
Mr. Darcy wondered what made Mr. Collins so very special; the man was not particularly handsome, nor well-dressed, norevidently titled. The question evidently showed on his face, as Mrs. Bennet supplied the answer at once. “Longbourn is entailed to Mr. Collins, and now that he marries into the family, why, I need not worry about being asked to leave my home!”
Mr. Collins rushed to assure her that he would never, never ask any of his relatives to leave Longbourn.
During this conversation, Elizabeth had looked again and again at Mr. Darcy. He was certainly very handsome. She had always preferred darker colouring, and this Mr. Darcy was practically the epitome of a dark, brooding hero. Well, he did not brood, exactly, but he seemed to hold himself rather above all the furor around him. There was an air of gravity about him that she found very appealing.
And at the same time, Mr. Darcy managed to sneak in several looks at both Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. Miss Elizabeth was certainly pretty, far prettier than Mr. Bingley’s faint praise had indicated. It was true that she did not fit the modern preference for blonde hair and blue eyes, but good Lord, there must be fifty different shades in her hair! From chestnut to chocolate to cocoa to ochre to umber to russet to sable to sepia to taupe to walnut! And her eyes were green, a true emerald green, not a greyish moss colour that was so often referred to as green.
Miss Bennet was still, unquestionably, the most beautiful woman in the room, of that there could be no doubt; but there was something about this Miss Elizabeth…
Glancing over at Mr. Bingley, he saw the man staring hard at Miss Bennet. Not at Miss Elizabeth, but at the eldest Miss Bennet. His mouth had fallen open.
Mr. Darcy was suddenly aware that an unpleasant situation was in the process of unfolding. Even as the thought took shape in his mind, he saw Mr. Bingley change his seat so as to sit beside Miss Bennet, rather than Miss Elizabeth.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jane finished penning her letter to her Aunt Madeleine, folded it, and set it aside. She braided her hair, cleaned her teeth and put on her nightgown, all in silence.
Elizabeth watched her sister go through her nightly ritual. Usually Jane had a good deal to say about the events of the day during this process, but tonight she was uncharacteristically quiet. Finally, Elizabeth said, “Jane?”
Jane did not reply. It was not until she climbed into their bed that she turned to her sister and asked, “You truly have no feelings for Mr. Bingley, Lizzy?”
“As I told you,” a puzzled Elizabeth replied.
Jane went on. “It is only that I struggle to believe you. Mr. Bingley is as handsome a gentleman as I have ever met, and as pleasant as could be.”
“I saw that he made an effort to speak with you,” Elizabeth managed.
“Yes; we spoke about country life and Town life, and he was very complimentary towards you, Lizzy, saying that you knew how to run an estate, which was a skill not always found in young ladies.”
“That was kind of him,” Elizabeth murmured.
“Yes. He was everything kind and pleasant and well-mannered and – oh, Lizzy! How can you be so cool about him?”
“Cool?” Elizabeth repeated, utterly confused.
“Yes! So determinednotto love him, when certainly any young lady would be happy to have such a man pay her his attentions!”
“You like him, Jane,” Elizabeth realised.
“Of course! Who would not?” Jane countered. “So let us have no more of this missish behaviour from you. You are to be warm and welcoming to him, as would any young lady in these circumstances!”
“Why, I can scarce believe my ears!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “You make no allowance for personal preference, then, Jane? You like him, so everyone must like him?”
