From Longbourn to Pemberley - Autumn 1810 Read online

  The musicians took up a lively quadrille and Miss Crawford, wishing to attract the attention of the master of Pemberley, asked him, innocently, ‘Mr. Darcy, do you know the young lady whom my brother Henry asked to dance? He seems to be enjoying her company. Is she an acquaintance of yours?’

  Finding himself the object of the question, Darcy turned and saw none other than Elizabeth Bennet, who was responding to a very attentive Henry Crawford, a smile on her lips.

  ‘Yes, Miss Crawford, this young lady is the sister of Miss Bennet to whom you were presented at the beginning of the evening.’

  This was issued in a tone that Mr. Darcy hoped was neutral, though he was finding Miss Elizabeth to be extremely generous with her smiles.

  ‘Henry is unrivalled with regards to pleasing the most charming young women,’ responded Mary Crawford, who had noticed his attempt to appear detached. ‘It must be conceded that his is an undeniable talent…’

  Fortunately for Darcy, they were interrupted by Charles Bingley, in the company of John Willoughby, who eagerly wished to be presented to the exquisite Miss Crawford. The conversation had scarcely begun when Willoughby, showing himself to be a courteous gentleman, seized the opportunity to escort the young lady onto the dancefloor. While she was somewhat disappointed at not having been asked to dance by Mr. Darcy, Mary Crawford admitted to dear Miss Bingley later on that it had not really been necessary to coerce her into accepting an invitation such as this…

  Not far from them, Mrs. Fanny Dashwood, partially concealed behind her fan, confided in her friend Louisa Hurst that in her opinion, the people here were seriously lacking in education.

  ‘Look at these two shameless young women who just passed in front of us, laughing loudly and heartily. They should be ashamed!’

  ‘I wholeheartedly agree,’ sighed Mrs. Hurst. ‘It would be a veritable miracle if Mrs. Bennet managed, for once, to keep her youngest under control. But do not rely on it too much.’

  ‘Bennet? Is that not the name of the young lady who is once again dancing with your brother over there?’

  ‘Indeed, we have been invaded by the Bennets… and Charles finds they possess a country charm that is most enchanting. Caroline and I are somewhat discouraged by this new passion for Hertfordshire and its inhabitants. Even Mr. Darcy seems exasperated by these neighbours, the Bennets.’

  ‘Speaking of Mr. Darcy, tell me, Louisa, who does this extremely coveted gentleman defer to?’ asked Mrs. Dashwood, pointing her fan towards the scene that she was following with much curiosity.

  ‘Heavens! Fanny, he just invited Elizabeth Bennet to the next dance…’

  ‘Another of the young Bennet ladies!’ exclaimed her interlocutor, who clearly found the situation more and more delectable. ‘I believe, my dear, that you must present me to Mrs. Bennet. I beg that you not deprive me of the pleasure.’

  Then, seeing that the situation was having a profound effect on her friend, she added, in a conciliatory tone, ‘Ah, really, Louisa! You must come rest in Norland Park as soon as you are able to leave the region.’

  A mere ten minutes later, Louisa Hurst found her sister in the small drawing room, where tables had been set up for piquet, whist and casino. The latter, playing the role of perfect hostess, exchanged smiles and pleasantries with the old guard of the region. These included, among others, Mr. Long, Mr. Goulding, one of the Mrs. White and, of course, Mr. Bennet, for whom dancing clearly held no attraction. Seeing her sister burst into the room unexpectedly, Caroline Bingley apologised to her guests and joined Louisa. They went to the grand salon, where several dancers were revelling in an Allemande. Louisa Hurst, with a nod of her head, pointed out to her sister one of the couples turning on the dance floor. Caroline Bingley’s face turned ashen in shock and then darkened with resentment.

  ‘So, Anne Elliot may have been correct,’ commented Louisa Hurst, looking around. ‘See, Caroline, no one is talking of anything else.’

  ‘That the devil may take Miss Elliot! And all the Bennets, too!’ Miss Bingley uttered under her breath. ‘First Frank Churchill, and now Mr. Darcy!’

  ‘You have forgotten Henry Crawford. Elizabeth Bennet danced a quadrille with him.’

  ‘Him too! And lo and behold, Sir Lucas is getting involved. Good lord! Louisa, that is the final straw. All of Hertfordshire has front row seats so they can watch our brother in his role of stupid lover and Mr. Darcy as the blind heir!’

  The orchestra finally played a Cotillion and then withdrew. Dinner was to be served. Agitated, Kitty hastened to find Lydia.

  ‘You will never guess! I danced with Chamberlayne right near Lizzy and Mr. Darcy and…’

  ‘And you wondered how our sister could have accepted a dance with such a person, is that it?’

  ‘Yes, but what is much more interesting is that I heard Lizzy say that when he met us the other day at Meryton, we had just made a new acquaintance.’

  ‘It’s true! George Wickham was accompanying Captain Denny.’

  ‘Well, this comment had an immediate effect. Mr. Darcy seemed even more haughty, and then, after a brief hesitation, he ended up saying that Mr. Wickham was gifted with pleasing manners that allowed him to make friends easily…’

  ‘Ah. I recognise my dear Wickham, so genial, so charming!’

  ‘No, wait, I have yet to finish. Mr. Darcy added this: “That he is able to keep his friends is less certain.” What do you think he was wishing to imply?’

  ‘I am convinced that Mr. Darcy is a heartless man and that he is benefitting from the absence of dear Wickham, who had to go to London, to malign him. This must not have pleased Lizzy…’

  On this, they hurried off in pursuit of two young officers who had been eyeing them for a few moments. They rushed directly in front of Lady Lucas, who was already seated beside Mrs. Bennet. The latter had the decency to furrow her brow a bit before letting her two young daughters pass… but her indulgent smile said much about her principles with regards to education.

  ‘Well, Charlotte received an invitation from one of the Goulding sons, that must have caused you much pleasure, my dear friend.’

  But Mrs. Bennet paid no heed to the words spoken around her, or to the cold meats; she much less interested in the situation of the eldest of the Lucas or in the flavour of the jellied veal aspic than in the compliments bestowed upon her family that evening.

  ‘Matthew Goulding is very nice, but he is the last of four boys,’ sighed Lady Lucas.

  ‘Alas, you are correct. It is not like Mr. Bingley to my Jane. I could never have imagined such a bright future for my eldest!’ she exclaimed, subtly elaborating on the immense advantages of “capturing” an heir who, in addition, opened the door to opportunities for her other daughters.

  Exasperated, Lady Lucas would have gladly scratched her overly exuberant neighbour, but as she was the wife of a dignitary who had been presented at the St. James court, she acquiesced and instead, directed her rancour at the meagre portion of vegetables garnishing her plate. As for Elizabeth, she reacted strongly to her mother’s comment, first blushing in humiliation, then by attempting to silence her. The situation was all the more shameful because Mr. Darcy, who was seated nearby, had most certainly heard every word. The effect was the opposite: Mrs. Bennet, her voice rising a notch, made it clear to her daughter that no gentleman would prevent her from expressing herself, even if he was from Derbyshire and if he truly was a gentleman, that went without saying. At that very moment, Elizabeth understood that dying of embarrassment was merely figurative, and that she would survive, so that she would be better able to observe Mr. Darcy scrutinise them and judge them. The latter, surmising the young lady’s emotions, suddenly became most engrossed in cutting the slice of meat on his plate. Elizabeth was grateful for this, though she doubted that he had acted solely out of compassion. Fortunately for both of them, Henry Crawford seated himself beside Charles Bingley, who was to Darcy’s right. His sister Mary soon joined them, leading a conquered Willoughby in her wake; she immediate
ly monopolised the attention of all the young men present. The only one who was not subjugated or the least bit interested was the actual host of the ball, as he only had eyes for Miss Bennet. Turning his attention from the seductive Miss Crawford, Darcy observed his friend, and, at this moment, remembered the tactless comments of Sir Lucas. In fact, Bingley seemed so smitten that he no longer appeared to be seeing clearly. It was clear that the young woman in question did not have a dowry worthy of his name, it was clear that she had an outrageously opportunistic mother and it was clear that several members of the family exhibited manners that were inappropriate, if not vulgar. These were the thoughts going through Darcy’s head when he noticed that Caroline Bingley, who was whispering into Louisa Hurst’s ear, appeared to have reached the same conclusion. It was not difficult to comprehend that a formidable trio would soon put their heads together and get to work, undeniably for the good of dear Charles.

  The sounds of someone performing a melody by Pleyel on the piano brought all these musings to an end. It was impossible to heed these thoughts, even more so because the young lady who was so brilliantly executing the music deemed it best to add her voice: “The last time I came …”. And while the lyrics of Burns floated through the room, Mrs. Dashwood, who, decidedly, was very much enjoying the little episodes of this ball, was unable to keep herself from interrogating her interlocutors in an artificially candid tone.

  ‘It appears that one of these accomplished young women has decided to sit down at the pianoforte! And who do we have the honour of listening to, my dear Caroline?’

  ‘Oh! Fanny, that’s all we need,’ sighed Miss Bingley, infuriated by the situation. ‘It’s Mary Bennet. She is trying to make herself noticed.’

  ‘Another Miss Bennet!’ exclaimed Mrs. Dashwood. ‘How entertaining!’

  ‘There, we have been introduced to the entire Bennet family,’ Louisa Hurst hastened to add, smiling contritely at her sister, surprised by their guest’s comment.

  ‘And so all told, there are five! Imagine, Caroline, that I have had the opportunity to observe each and every one of them, one at a time. They have distinguished themselves in the most original manner and I was most entertained by your sister’s comments.’

  ‘The pleasure is ours, my dear,’ concluded Miss Bingley, a forced smile on her pursed lips.

  And then she recalled the discussion she had just had with Elizabeth Bennet. The latter had defended, tooth and nail, “poor” George Wickham, whereas anyone who was well informed knew that he was the son of a steward and that his behaviour towards Mr. Darcy was unacceptable. What behaviour? Miss Bingley was unable to specify, but she did not doubt the truthfulness of the facts: firstly, because Wickham was none other than Wickham and secondly, because the master of Pemberley clearly did not think highly of him. This was sufficiently adequate such that it could only be true and established, but it had displeased Elizabeth Bennet, who was disposed to thoroughly analysing everyone’s character. This time, Miss Bingley could not help but allow a genuine smile to brighten her countenance… At long last, this George Wickham might be an ally who could entice the Bennet ladies to follow in his wake, one in particular.

  When the orchestra began to play again, the guests crowded into the salons and soon there was a gathering of the youngest of the young ladies under one of the enormous chandeliers. One can be certain that not even the smallest of details had escaped their notice.

  ‘My heavens, did you see?! Mr. Collins addressed Mr. Darcy without having been presented to him,’ exclaimed Catherine Bennet.

  ‘I believe your sister was unable to restrain your cousin and she was mortified,’ commented the eldest of the Longs, in a tone that refuted her support of the Bennet family.

  ‘Come, Harriet,’ her younger sister scolded, ‘it’s not Miss Elizabeth’s fault if her cousin takes liberties such as this. Furthermore, he is not the only one to act in this way; did James Goulding not just bow before pretty Miss Crawford? Do you think she’ll accept a dance with him?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ interjected Amy Bates, nodding towards John Willoughby who, having finished his conversation with John Dashwood, was heading to their side of the salon. ‘And you? Which one would you choose?’

  ‘Without question, Mr. Willoughby!’ Lydia Bennet and Margaret White exclaimed, in unison.

  It had become very late, making it necessary to leave the ball and return home. Elizabeth was secretly depending on everyone’s fatigue to enjoy a tranquil return to Longbourn; this did not include Mr. Collins, who was exuberantly vociferous, launching into eulogising his hosts, who had condescended to invite him. And what a fortune to meet the nephew of his benefactress, Lady Catherine de Bourgh! At the mention of Mr. Darcy, Jane looked at her sister, but Elizabeth raised her shoulders and did not say a word. After all, what was he? A wealthy bachelor who considered her no more than tolerable and not even pretty enough to ask her to dance, but who had since asked her to dance, twice. Why had she accepted to dance with him this evening? Her reaction had surprised her. It was probably because she did not expect it - or no longer did. Had she not subtly rejected him that evening, at her friend’s, Charlotte Lucas? He could not have not understood the allusion she made about his ungracious comment at the Meryton ball. And when she had provoked him, one evening, during her stay at Netherfield, while she was caring for her sister… and when she was speaking about George Wickham and he hastened to discredit the latter. No, she had undeniably granted too much attention to this gentleman, despite herself. If he even was a gentleman, Mrs. Bennet could have concluded. But the latter was busy bestowing Mr. Collins with compliments; he had not yet finished extolling the virtues of everything and nothing, and this at four o’clock in the morning.

  Chapter VI

  In which one comes to realise,

  thanks to Charlotte Lucas,

  that happiness in marriage

  is a chance event and that it is

  therefore better for the sake

  of prudence to abandon

  all inclinations thereto

  Longbourn, the 29th of November 1810

  My dear Anne,

  I hope that your sister Mary is doing better and that your presence helped restore her health. I was saddened to hear that after your stay in Uppercross, you will leave for Bath. While several people have told me that they much appreciated this city, I understand that you are not travelling there with a light heart. Perhaps your sister Elizabeth or Lady Russell will help you discover its positive aspects.

  I was much surprised by the story you told me about your estate, Kellynch Hall. Your father has decided to let it, and a certain Admiral Croft has settled there… and you know the brother of Mrs. Croft rather well. Furthermore, they were invited to dinner at the Musgroves. I sense that you are perturbed by all this, although I cannot gauge its significance. Anne, you who are so sensible, remember our evening at Lucas Lodge; you must not let yourself be affected by the situation… Rather, benefit from your excursion to Lyme and take the time to enjoy the beauty of this coastal region.

  I shall attempt to distract you by recounting a misadventure that I recently met with. You will laugh, or at least smile. Imagine, someone asked for my hand in marriage. And I refused his offer. The proposal came from a certain Mr. Collins, having the vocation of pastor and connected to the paternal branch of my family. It is to him that Longbourn will be entrusted when my father dies. You most certainly know of this terrible arrangement, the entail; well, we have had this charming Damocles sword hanging over our heads ever since our parents failed to “procure” a brother for us. I beg that you not repeat my words, my design is to lift your spirits. It appears that I owe the pleasure of having received this most forthcoming proposal to maternal scheming. Here is how it was presented to me: “Barely had I crossed the threshold of this home when I saw in you the companion of my existence, but before I allowed myself to be transported by the outpouring of my emotions, it would perhaps be more proper to reveal to you the reasons that cause me
to muse on marriage…” Dear Anne, Mr. Collins, being a pompous and ridiculous character, I had no choice but to reject him after having been assailed by the “outpouring of his emotions”. But, even after having clearly heard my refusal, he felt it essential to indicate that this was nothing more than coquetry on my part. Allow me to provide you with the response that I dealt him, word by word: “I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time.” Good gracious, I swear that this will never happen to me! And you, Anne, would you refuse a marriage proposal in the hopes that you be asked a second time? Naturally, you will have guessed that Mother did not in the least appreciate my response; she reproached me for being too selfish… should I not have saved my sisters from the entail? Do you recall our discussion with Charlotte Lucas? We were, on that evening, rather sentimental. Well, let it be known that I have not changed my opinion; I will marry for love or I will not marry at all. My mother, obviously, went to Father to complain about my attitude, threatening to never speak to me again. Fortunately, my father closed the matter once and for all with one of his famous retorts. He informed me that I was faced with a cruel alternative, because from that day forward, I would be a stranger to one of my parents. “Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.” I must simply admit my great relief upon this conclusion.