“Mr Bingley taking Netherfield is the best thing that has ever happened to us! He and his charming sister have reinvigorated us all. Could any man be as well suited to my dear Jane? In looks and character, they are perfect for each other. Mr Bingley is rich and has a place in society. It is true that he cannot claim any grand relations, but neither can you girls. As much as my brothers are the most admirable men in the world, some people will look down on them because they were not born gentlemen. I find it all so foolish.”
Mary, who was sitting beside their mother on a sofa, agreed. “We should each of us be judged and judge others based on character, not who our parents are or something superficial such as looks.”
Mrs Bennet tucked a strand of Mary’s hair into place and gave her a smile that appeared a little sad. “You are a good girl, Mary, if too prone to being serious. People are often cruel to each other, and they will care about people’s fathers or whether their nose is crooked.Ido not think less of Mrs Long because she has that terrible scar on her face, even though it makes me shiver to see it, but others do.”
Elizabeth knew for a certainty that Mrs Bennet had sent Mrs Long various creams and ointments that were guaranteed—by whom Elizabeth was not sure—to reduce the appearance of scars, as well as treat a host of other ailments. Elizabeth wanted to believe her mother did it for Mrs Long’s comfort rather than her own, but, with regret, she could not. Mrs Bennet had talked about how she would never leave the house or receive callers without wearing a veil to hide her face if she were so afflicted.
“My girls are good enough for anyone, but I know how those highborn people think. Take Mr Darcy. I know Miss Bingley said he would return, but you never can tell.Ifhe should, we shall not see him paying particular attention to a lady the way Mr Bingley is Jane—not unless he happens to bring one with him from town!” Mrs Bennet laughed at her joke, though she was the only one. “Likely Mr Darcy already has a lady selected for him by his father or his uncle, who is an earl, you know.”
“We do, Mama,” Mary interjected, “but I believe the practice of the older generation selecting the marriage partners of their young relations has gone out of style.”
Elizabeth recalled her mother making plans for William’s future before he even came to Longbourn, specifically that he would marry one of his cousins. She dared not say it aloud; it could only lead to an argument.
Mrs Bennet made a noise very like a snort, although she would never resort to so harsh a gesture. “You think that if you like, Mary, but you are mistaken. Fathers, grandfathers, uncles, even mothers, all concern themselves a great deal with what their children do. It is their right, to ensure the honour of the family and to keep their sons and daughters from making imprudent choices. Any family should be happy to have you and your sisters.Iknow you would be a credit to them, whoever they happened to be, but for a man like Mr Darcy, were he to look your way, there would be a great deal of opposition. He will be expected to marry some rich lady, likely one with noble connexions of her own.”
“Something Mr Bingley said gave me the impression that Miss Bingley and Mr Darcy might be…particular friends,” Jane said, glancing at Elizabeth.
Mrs Bennet gave her a look of astonishment. “Miss Bingley and Mr Darcy? Whatever the lady’s hopes, I do not believe he would regardheras a bride. Her father was in trade! Besides, if they were, it would be improper for him to stay at Netherfield.”
Elizabeth and her sisters murmured their agreement, and when Kitty and Lydia entered the room a moment later, the subject of discussion changed.
CHAPTERELEVEN
It took several days, and far more negotiation than he liked, but Darcy was satisfied with the contracts about which he had come to London. They had been signed just that morning, and currently, he was sitting with his cousins, Viscount Bramwell and Colonel Fitzwilliam, in the drawing room of their father’s town house in Grosvenor Square. Lord Romsley had eaten dinner with them before leaving to attend a meeting with political allies. It was evident Bramwell was looking for an excuse to depart as well.
“I told some friends I would meet them at the soirée the Banes are hosting. It will be tedious, to be sure, but…” Bramwell made an offhanded gesture and, for at least the fourth time since dinner ended, checked his pocket watch.
“You despise Bane,” Darcy said.
“Yes, well.” Bramwell scratched his ear.
“He is in pursuit of a lady who will be there tonight,” Fitzwilliam said, giving Darcy an amused expression.
Bramwell kicked his brother, making Fitzwilliam laugh.
“Who is it?” The words were out of Darcy’s mouth before he could reflect that they were impolite. Bramwell had a right to his secrets, especially if he was serious about the lady this time. It was one thing when his cousin was only interested in a flirtation, a circumstance that had arisen many times in the past, but his fidgeting and the way Fitzwilliam teased him suggested something about the lady was different.
“No one. She issomeone, obviously, but my brother does not know what he is talking about.” Bramwell’s cheeks took on a bit of colour.
“I know who it is. Shall I tell Darcy, or are you ready to confess?” Fitzwilliam cackled.
Bramwell fixed an angry glare on the colonel. It reminded Darcy of one he had seen when they were all boys. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Do, and I shall put unspeakable things in your bed when you least expect it.”
Fitzwilliam laughed, but he and Darcy both knew Bramwell would, if provoked. When he was twelve, he had filled Fitzwilliam’s bed with manure from the stables because his brother had taken some trinket or other and refused to return it. The earl had made Bramwell clean the entire bedchamber, insisting the maids did not deserve to deal with the filth. He maintained the prank was worth it because Fitzwilliam had ceased to steal his things.
Bramwell addressed his next remarks to Darcy. “Ifanything comes of it, you will then be informed of the lady’s identity.Ifthere is a particular one I am interested in. I am not saying there is.”
“Oh, spare us all the denials. Go. Seek your lady love. Remember to be on your best behaviour,” Fitzwilliam said.
Muttering invectives, Bramwell left them. Fitzwilliam refilled Darcy’s wine glass and sat in a deep blue armchair across from him.
“There truly is a lady. I shall not tell you who she is. I care nothing for Bramwell’s threats, but I happen to agree that it is better you do not know unless, or should I say until, he has secured her hand in marriage.”
“It is someone I know?” Darcy asked.
Fitzwilliam dipped his chin. “It is always possible that she will slip through the very fine net my brother is weaving about her, and I would not want to cause her embarrassment. Bramwell, too, I suppose. I shall just say that if he manages to catch her, I think it will be a good thing for Georgiana.”
Darcy cocked an eyebrow in question.
