Mr. Darcy's Undoing Page 3

  She was immediately reassured, however, by Mrs. Covington’s response. “My dear Miss Bennet,” the older woman said, “while I cannot deny that I could wish you had some fortune of your own to bring to this marriage, it is not as important a matter to me as some other characteristics you possess in abundance. I am not one to deny harsh facts; I know I almost did not survive my illness this winter, and that my next episode will in all probability be my last. For my own peace of mind, I want to see my son settled, and with a woman who will be capable of managing Ashworth. You are practical, energetic, clever, and unafraid to speak your mind; this is more important to me at this moment than fortune.”

  “I hope your concerns prove to be quite unfounded,” exclaimed Elizabeth, startled by this degree of frankness, “but I will certainly do my best, and I thank you for your kind words.”

  Mrs. Covington looked at her penetratingly for a moment, then smiled warmly. “I have always been a frank woman, my dear, and now I find myself at a time in my life when I have no patience for arguing the niceties. My son has left this matter of choosing a bride longer than I would have liked, and as a result, I have a great deal which I want to have the opportunity to tell you, and not as much time as I would have wished to do so.”

  Elizabeth looked at her with a new respect. “I will be grateful for any insights and help you can give me.”

  “My son is a good man, and will make you a fine husband,” she said. “I have much to be proud of in him, but I am not such a doting mother as to think he is without flaw. If you do not know it already, you will discover soon that he is generous to a fault, and dislikes causing unpleasantness. The wrong sort of woman could take merciless advantage of his good nature. You, I think, are too honest to do so, but you will need strength and tact to watch that no one else takes advantage of him either, be it the tenants or the servants or the tradesmen.” She watched Elizabeth closely to observe her reaction.

  Elizabeth had not truly begun to consider until this moment the changes that were to come to her as mistress of her own home. “I see that I will have a great deal to learn,” she said slowly, striving to match Mrs. Covington’s directness.

  Mrs. Covington looked at her, well pleased with the young woman her son had chosen. She patted her hand, and said, “We shall talk more soon, I hope, but I see a young man coming who is hoping, I doubt not, to take you away from me.”

  Elizabeth looked up to see Mr. Covington approaching, a pleased smile on his face at the sight of her. “Miss Bennet!” he said. “I was wondering if you would enjoy an opportunity to see the grounds. I would be happy to give you a tour.”

  “Thank you,” she said sedately, with a glance at his mother. “I would like that.” She allowed him to lead her outside.

  “I hope you were having a pleasant discussion with my mother, Lizzy,” he said as they entered the flower gardens.

  Elizabeth, not yet accustomed to the familiarity of being called by her name, looked away and reached out to lightly touch a rose. “Very much so,” she said. “I like her very well indeed.”

  He was visibly relieved. “I am glad to hear it. I want you to be happy here, you know.”

  “Thank you,” she said. She was finding this conversation somewhat stilted. “I am sure I will be, Mr. Covington.”

  “Lizzy…”

  She glanced up at him enquiringly. “Yes?”

  “Will you not call me James?” he asked. “You used to do it quite prettily, many years ago.”

  She coloured. “Yes, of course, if you would like,” she replied, a trifle uncomfortable with the idea, but feeling his request to be quite reasonable. “James,” she added. He looked so pleased by her gesture that she could not help softening a bit towards him, much as she would towards a puppy eager for affection. “The gardens are very lovely—you have many of my favourite flowers. I think I will like it here very much.”

  To her surprise, he took her gloved hand and pressed it between his. Startled, she looked at him, and found that his gaze held a warmth that she had never seen in him before. His eyes travelled downwards to her lips. She felt a rush of anxiety, but did not move; she understood her obligations to him. Still, she could not help turning her face to the side as he leaned toward her, encouraging his lips to land on her cheek instead of her mouth. The feeling was not unpleasing, and she smiled up at him apologetically. Fortunately, he appeared to be perfectly satisfied with what had occurred, and with another squeeze, released her hand.

  She breathed a silent sigh of relief as they continued on, grateful to have that first moment of intimacy past. It would become easier with time, she was sure, and she could see that it would likely even become pleasant as she grew more accustomed to this sort of physical affection. There is nothing to worry about, she reassured herself. Nothing at all.

  Chapter 2

  Elizabeth did not see Mr. Covington overly frequently in the next few weeks; between the harvest approaching and the long ride from Ashworth House, he limited himself to calling on her about once a week. To her relief, she found herself gradually warming towards the thought of their marriage as she had time to become more comfortable with the idea. All in all, she could not complain of dissatisfaction with her lot, apart, perhaps, from the necessity of dealing with her mother’s continual overexcitement about the forthcoming wedding.

  All that, however, was put to the side, and Mrs. Bennet’s mind opened again to the agitation of hope by an article of news which then began to be in circulation. The housekeeper at Netherfield had received orders to prepare for the arrival of her master, who was coming down in a day or two, to shoot there for several weeks. Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets. She looked at Jane, and smiled, and shook her head by turns.

  “Well, well, and so Mr. Bingley is coming down, sister,” (for Mrs. Phillips first brought her the news). “Well, so much the better. Not that I care about it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am sure I never want to see him again. But, however, he is very welcome to come to Netherfield, if he likes it. And who knows what may happen? But that is nothing to us. You know, sister, we agreed long ago never to mention a word about it. And so, is it quite certain he is coming?”

  “You may depend on it,” replied the other, “for Mrs. Nicholls was in Meryton last night; I saw her passing by, and went out myself on purpose to know the truth of it; and she told me that it was certain true. He comes down on Thursday at the latest, very likely on Wednesday. She was going to the butcher’s, she told me, on purpose to order in some meat on Wednesday, and she has got three ducks just fit to be killed.”

  Miss Bennet had not been able to hear of his coming without changing colour. It was many months since she had mentioned his name to Elizabeth; but now, as soon as they were alone together, she said, “I saw you look at me to-day, Lizzy, when my aunt told us of the present report; and I know I appeared distressed. But don’t imagine it was from any silly cause. I was only confused for the moment, because I felt that I should be looked at. I do assure you that the news does not affect me either with pleasure or pain. I am glad of one thing, that he comes alone; because we shall see the less of him. Not that I am afraid of myself, but I dread other people’s remarks.”

  Elizabeth did not know what to make of it. She supposed him capable of coming there with no other view than what was acknowledged; but from what Mr. Darcy had said to her in April, she thought it possible he was still partial to Jane. She was surprised he should be bold enough to come without his friend’s permission, as she could not imagine after her last encounter with Mr. Darcy that he would ever give approval to such a move.

  “Yet it is hard,” she said one day to Mr. Covington during one of his visits, “that this poor man cannot come to a house which he has legally hired, without raising all this speculation! I will leave him to himself. After all, he has done me the kindness to distract my mother from the matter of our wedding, and I will be forever grateful t
o him for providing me with a few hours in which I could hear of something beyond lace and the wedding breakfast!”

  This remark earned her a light kiss on the cheek, and a reminder that it would not be so long until all the fuss of the wedding was in the past. Elizabeth, by now more able to take this behaviour in stride, agreed, having come to the place where the idea of the independence of her own household was having a favourable impact on her anticipation of her marriage.

  She was, however, concerned for Jane in the matter of Mr. Bingley. In spite of what her sister declared, and really believed to be her feelings in the expectation of his arrival, Elizabeth could easily perceive that her spirits were affected by it. They were more disturbed, more unequal, than she had often seen them.

  The subject which had been so warmly canvassed between their parents, about a twelvemonth ago, was now brought forward again.

  “As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “you will wait on him of course.”

  “No, no. You forced me into visiting him last year, and promised, if I went to see him, he should marry one of my daughters. But it ended in nothing, and I will not be sent on a fool’s errand again.”

  His wife represented to him how absolutely necessary such an attention would be from all the neighbouring gentlemen, on his returning to Netherfield.

  “’Tis an etiquette I despise,” said he. “If he wants our society, let him seek it. He knows where we live. I will not spend my hours in running after my neighbours every time they go away and come back again.”

  “Well, all I know is that it will be abominably rude if you do not wait on him. But, however, that shan’t prevent my asking him to dine here, I am determined. We must have Mrs. Long and the Gouldings soon. That will make thirteen with ourselves, so there will be just room at table for him.”

  Consoled by this resolution, she was the better able to bear her husband’s incivility; though it was very mortifying to know that her neighbours might all see Mr. Bingley, in consequence of it, before they did. As the day of his arrival drew near, “I begin to be sorry that he comes at all,” said Jane to her sister. “It would be nothing; I could see him with perfect indifference, but I can hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of. My mother means well; but she does not know, no one can know, how much I suffer from what she says. Happy shall I be, when his stay at Netherfield is over!”

  “I wish I could say any thing to comfort you,” replied Elizabeth, “but it is wholly out of my power. You must feel it; and the usual satisfaction of preaching patience to a sufferer is denied me, because you have always so much.” She was truly worried on her sister’s behalf, though. If Mr. Bingley proved indifferent to Jane, it could go hard with her, especially when Elizabeth was no longer at Longbourn to be her consolation.

  Mr. Bingley arrived, several days in advance of all expectations. Mrs. Bennet, through the assistance of servants, contrived to have the earliest tidings of it, but as chance would have it, all her machinations proved to be in vain. Sir William Lucas would have the honour of hosting Mr. Bingley first, since the very day after his arrival there was to be a ball at Lucas Lodge to which he was immediately invited.

  This intelligence set Mrs. Bennet all aflutter. She had not paid the attention she usually would to the upcoming ball owing to her concern about Mr. Bingley’s arrival, and suddenly it was of the utmost importance to have Jane looking at her most beautiful for the occasion. The entire day was devoted to preparing for the event, with Mrs. Bennet’s excitement and vexation over anything which stood in her way raising even Jane’s normally imperturbable mien to frustration.

  At last the time came. As they walked into Lucas Lodge, Jane whispered to Elizabeth, “Promise that you will stay by me, Lizzy! I cannot face all these whispers alone.” Elizabeth assured her she would not desert her, but she hoped fervently that Mr. Bingley’s appearance would put all these worries aside.

  They were among the earliest arrivals, and Jane resolutely took a position with her back to the doors, lest anyone imagine that she was watching for Mr. Bingley. She made a show of chatting lightly with the various acquaintances who approached her, hoping to ferret out a trace of disturbance over her situation that could be widely shared. When at last a stir behind them told Elizabeth that the Netherfield party must have arrived, she looked at Jane in sympathy, noting how her knuckles were turning white as she clutched her hands together. “Come, Jane, let us find some refreshments,” she said soothingly.

  “Oh, Lizzy, I could not eat a thing!” whispered Jane, but she followed Elizabeth’s lead to the table loaded with food and drink.

  It was at this time that Mr. Bingley finally came within sight. “Miss Bennet!” he exclaimed, his eyes immediately fixing themselves on Jane. “What a pleasure to see you again!”

  Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. One look at him made it clear to her that he had never forgotten her sister, and his immediate invitation to Jane to dance the first two dances with him only served as confirmation. She found herself quickly forgotten as the two shyly began to converse. To give them a modicum of privacy, she turned away discreetly to look at the rest of the room, only to discover a familiar figure standing directly in front of her.

  “Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed in surprise, her shock evident as she put one hand to her chest. He was the last person she had expected to see.

  He bowed, saying, “Pardon me, Miss Bennet; I did not mean to startle you.” His accent held little of its usual sedateness.

  “I am sorry, Mr. Darcy; I had not realized you were in Hertfordshire,” she said somewhat incoherently, her mind flying back to the discord of their last meetings in Hunsford. What was he doing there? Was he keeping an eye on his friend, to prevent him from any foolish decisions?

  He smiled slightly. “It is my turn to be surprised then. It has been my experience that news travels very quickly here, but it seems that is not always the case.”

  Elizabeth flushed deeply as she realized the news he must be referring to. What must he think of her, to find her about to be married so soon after his own ill-fated proposal? Or was it perhaps a relief, allowing him to put the entire matter behind him to meet her in a more comfortable manner? That must be the case, she resolved, aware of a confusing pang at the idea.

  “If you are not otherwise engaged, might I have the pleasure of the first dances with you?” he asked, to her utter astonishment. He seemed to take no particular pleasure in this invitation.

  Astonished and confused, Elizabeth scarcely dared lift her eyes to her face, and knew not what answer she returned to his request. Amazed by the alteration in his manner since they last parted, every sentence that he uttered was increasing her embarrassment. She could only think that he was making a point of demonstrating how little the news of her engagement troubled him.

  He held out his hand, and without thinking she put her hand in his, conscious of a small shock as she did so. She followed him onto the dance floor silently, trying to somehow understand how she had found herself in the position of dancing with Mr. Darcy. She could read equal amazement that she should be standing up with him in the faces of the other dancers. She could not help recalling with a smile his words at the assembly where she had first met him. Apparently it was no longer a punishment to stand up with her, and at least at one point he had found her more than tolerable. She gave him an arch look as the music began.

  She had assumed he would be as silent as he had been when he had danced with her at the Netherfield ball, but this appeared not to be the case as he very civilly commented on how long it had been since he was in Hertfordshire last, how fine the shooting looked to be, and inquired after her father’s health. Determined to match him in courtesy, she met his remarks with answers in a light social tone.

  The dance began, and they were separated briefly, then came together again. The conversation then threatened to languish. Finding silence to provoke her an
xiety, she began to tell him of her tour of the Lakes, a subject on which she could wax eloquent. He asked several thoughtful questions exhibiting a knowledge of the area, then inquired, “Did your entire family travel together?”

  “No,” she replied with a quick smile. “I went with my aunt and uncle, who were kind enough to invite me to join them.” She saw him glance at Mrs. Phillips, who sat talking loudly with Mrs. Bennet, with some surprise. Realizing his thought, she added, “My aunt and uncle are from London; their children remained at Longbourn under the care of my sister Jane during our tour.”

  “Ah, I recall hearing that you had some family in Town, Miss Bennet,” he said.

  “Yes, my aunt and uncle live in Cheapside, where my uncle is in trade,” she said, stealing a sly glance at him to see how he bore this disgraceful connection, but he sustained it with fortitude, asking her whether she had often visited London.

  The entire conversation, as they moved down the set, seemed to be taking place between two people other than the ones who had met that night at Hunsford, and Elizabeth knew not what to make of it. At one point, she looked up at him as they were circling each other, her hand in his, and the reality of it hit her with a shock as she was caught briefly in his dark eyes. A different memory came back to her then, of his saying, You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. A shiver ran through her, and she glanced about the room as if to ground herself in the present.

  She was relieved when the dance ended and he returned her to the company of her sister. Since Mr. Bingley seemed disinclined to desert Jane during the interval between dances, Mr. Darcy perforce stood by her side as well, and an awkward silence fell between them. Bingley spoke enough for both men, she thought, and his enthusiasm for her sister was clear. She was happy to see a sparkle in Jane’s eyes that had been absent for many months.

  Finally another gentleman came to claim her hand for the next set of dances, and Elizabeth bade Darcy a slightly subdued but quite civil farewell. She could hardly keep her mind on the dance, though, much less conversing with her partner. She felt constantly aware of where Mr. Darcy was in the room, as if there were some kind of silent connection between them. It was with great amazement that she realized that he had made his way to the place where Mrs. Bennet sat accompanied by her friends, and that he was engaged in conversation with her mother.