by Victoria CL

Rating: R

Summary: P&P/MP - Regency era sequel
A few months after the weddings of Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley, Caroline Bingley is introduced to Mr Rushworth, a man of vast fortune, but divorced and with bitter memories of his former wife. His advantages closely match what she seeks, but his mother is domineering and a certain other single gentleman is more appealing. The resulting adventures draw in family, friends, and enemies old and new.


Chapter 9

On Monday morning, Colonel Fitzwilliam departed for Kent and the inimitable company of his aunt. That welcome event could not have come soon enough for Mr Rushworth, who had spent much of the day after the party uneasily observing both the Colonel and Miss Bingley as often as he could, primed to obsess suspiciously on any morsel of behaviour that could discommode him, whether it was a look, a remark, or merely an infelicitous choice of temporary repose.

Both parties in the affair had been briefed and both took special care in guarding their behaviour to the other. Colonel Fitzwilliam even removed himself entirely for two hours to ride with Mr Darcy. It was not as great a sacrifice as might be supposed for he took full advantage of their privacy to further pester his reticent cousin about his post-wedding revelations. When they returned, Darcy had been rather curt with the Colonel, until encouraged back to civility through some affectionate teasing by Elizabeth. Miss Bingley had in the meantime sought out Mr Rushworth’s company as much as she could in hopes of soothing him once again to complacency. If she was at all vexed by this, she kept her sentiments carefully in check, summoning up mental images of Sotherton or the Wimpole Street house as often as she needed to.

At Sunday dinner, Jane had made sure to seat the Colonel and Miss Bingley as far apart as she could manage, putting Mr Rushworth between herself and Caroline, and Colonel Fitzwilliam at the other end of the table with Elizabeth and Georgiana. The conversation was a good deal livelier at the Colonel’s end of the table. That had not pleased Caroline overly much, but did manage to mollify her wealthy suitor. Somewhat heartened, Mr Rushworth had tried to entertain his lady with witty things, but with scant success. Afterwards, everybody whiled away the evening at cards, with Caroline and the Colonel at separate tables and with as many other people as possible between them.

Caroline retired that night with much to ponder, and on the following morning woke up and rose far too late to see the Colonel at all. She took a late breakfast in company with her sister and Mr Rushworth, and found to her relief and surprise that, with his feared rival gone, the gentleman’s mood had undergone a great overnight transformation. Vanished was most of the sulkiness. They spent a few hours together in the garden, discussing with the head gardener some ideas for new plantings. Although admittedly pretending interest for the sake of Mr Rushworth’s peace of mind, Caroline was more conversant with the subject than her companion. But some of Mr Collins’s expertise had already rubbed off on Mr Rushworth, even after only an hour’s exchange of ideas at the party, and the two found themselves having a reasonably agreeable conference together.

Caroline was becoming increasingly torn by uncertainties. Mr Rushworth tended to appear unlearned, almost doltish, when she placed him for comparison next to Mr Darcy. He could seem dreary in the extreme when held against the invigorating example of the Colonel. Yet on his own, Mr Rushworth appeared capable of being perfectly acceptable company. He seemed eager to please, ready to move heaven and earth if it could give enjoyment to his lady. Caroline did not know what to think. As always, contemplation of Sotherton and the twelve thousand pounds imparted much clarity to her ideas, but a growing part of her conscience nagged at her to make up her mind about her suitor independent of those considerations.

“What do you think, Louisa?” Caroline asked her sister when the two found themselves alone in a parlour shortly before it was time to dress for dinner. “Should I accept if Mr Rushworth should offer?”

Louisa was somewhat conflicted, having as examples the serene happiness of Jane and her brother and the deep affection between Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, as well as her own tolerable, if rather unexciting, marriage. Mr Hurst was something of an improvement on Mr Rushworth in personality, Louisa thought, even if he lacked the fortune, but her own life could still sometimes be deficient in enjoyments. And despite some residual memories of past competitiveness between the two sisters, would she wish something worse for Caroline?

“Do you expect him to make an offer to you?”

“I cannot easily tell. Sometimes I think so. He shows promise in that regard that I never once saw in Mr Darcy. A little more work on my part … But he has been so moody for the past several days.”

“I believe you know the reason for that, Caroline.”

“You mean Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

“Yes, of course I mean Colonel Fitzwilliam. Do not deny that you have feelings for him.”

Caroline laughed shortly and humourlessly. “Do not be absurd, Louisa. The man is an outrageous flirt. You have seen so for yourself. He even says pretty things to the old biddies of Meryton. I will certainly take no meaning from it for myself. He is an attractive and amiable man, but we know many such in town. And besides, he is a younger son, with no expectations of fortune. A son of an earl, to be sure, but he has an older and married brother. And even if that brother had not already sired an heir to take the fortune and title, I should not gamble all of my future comfort on the hopes of an early death for a brother-in-law. I am not so crass as to wish for something like that.”

“I think you protest too much,” said Louisa.

“I protest too much?”

“Yes. Far too much. I think you rather like Colonel Fitzwilliam, more than you probably want to.”

Caroline blushed a little. “You are quite mistaken, Louisa –”

“And I think Mr Rushworth is at least a little bit aware of it.”

Caroline said nothing.

Louisa continued, “I can readily understand Mr Rushworth being sulky, but it will pass. He is already in considerably better spirits. I do not know how quickly he will become inclined to make an offer, if he does it at all, but you would do well to know your own mind so that you can give him your true answer when the time comes.”

“That still leaves me no closer to determining whether I should accept his offer.”

The two sisters sat in silence for a while, and not long afterwards, Mr Darcy entered the room in search of a book he thought he had left there earlier.

“Mr Darcy.” Caroline affected the ingratiating smile that she had always believed served so well in her past dealings with him. “You must sit with us and tell us your opinions of Mr Rushworth.”

Darcy remained standing. He had little desire to become embroiled in one of the Bingley sisters’ superficial debates. “I have known the man for less than a week, and have formed no opinions of him of which I care to speak at this point.”

Caroline suspected some evasiveness, and put a more persistent tone into her voice. “You need not conceal your views here, Mr Darcy. We are all old friends. I must know what you think of Mr Rushworth.”

“If you are requesting my judgment on your expectations and his suitability, the answers should already be clear to you, Miss Bingley. You must decide for yourself about the relative importance of the attributes of your prospective partner in life. His income is more than ample to your needs, and the gentleman is not a scoundrel. However, I trust that you can appropriately weigh the value of his personal qualities.”

“Oh, shocking!” Caroline cried. “Have you ever heard such a thing, Louisa? And what must Mrs Darcy think of such a cold, calculating view?”

Louisa privately held that Mr Darcy had alluded to some home truths that her sister really ought to pay heed to, but she kept her silence.

Mr Darcy said, “Those opinions are yours, Miss Bingley, not mine, and certainly not my wife’s.” Without waiting for a reply, and with a few polite excuses, he left the room.

Caroline remarked to her sister that their brother’s old friend had not always seemed so chilling and calculating in the past.

“Actually, he has changed little, and if anything, for the better. You do not bring out the best in Mr Darcy, Caroline.”

Caroline had nothing to say to that.

“Oh, marry him, Caroline, accept his offer, if Mr Rushworth should make one,” Louisa finally said, her patience somewhat at an end. “You have always wished to be very rich. Forget the Colonel, who will never be wealthy. You must be rich. It is the only reason you were interested in Mr Darcy, and he never once returned your regard. Mr Rushworth offers you everything that Mr Darcy has that has ever mattered at all to you. No, the two are not at all alike, and I would be the first to point out that Mr Darcy has many personal qualities that Mr Rushworth lacks. But those things do not matter to you, Caroline. I know they do not, and you will also discover that Mr Rushworth is far easier for you to get along with. It takes very little to make such a man happy. Accept him, and Sotherton Court, and the twelve thousand pounds, and the house in town, and be done with it.”

It probably was the best course of action. Caroline knew it, but felt strangely unsatisfied by such a resolution. Before she could form words of protest, the clock struck the half-hour, reminding the sisters that it was time to dress for dinner.

Louisa rose and prepared to leave the room. She would talk to Jane right away; with the Colonel gone the places at the table would once again be rearranged, and she hoped that Caroline might be seated directly across from Mr Rushworth. She turned and cast at her sister a last serious look from the doorway. “Think very hard on what I have just said.”

“You might prefer, my dear, to find yourself already having made plans to go out riding with Mr Hurst or to write letters of business in the library for the day,” Elizabeth suggested to Mr Darcy as they were preparing to go downstairs to breakfast. “There is a high probability that Mama will descend on Netherfield unannounced this morning.”

The pleased smile with which he had greeted her choice of morning dress faltered. “How did you come to this conjecture?”

“With guests arriving almost every day, she has not been to visit here for a full week other than for the party. My father will no longer be able to convince her that it is an intrusion and she must have a great deal of pent-up advice.”

“And will you stay with Jane to … entertain … your mother?”

“Jane will have Louisa with her to help forestall an overabundance of unnecessary requests. I intend to carry through my original scheme for today – to visit Charlotte at Lucas Lodge with Georgiana. I thought I might ask Miss Bingley to come with us.”

Mr Darcy thought wryly that Miss Bingley would probably appreciate this timely invitation very much, and applauded Elizabeth privately for thinking of it.

Elizabeth had more than one ulterior motive – by filling up the carriage, she could prevent Mr Collins from intruding upon the outing. But she considered the excursion a good opportunity to begin instigating a few useful friendships.

Over breakfast, Caroline was surprised when Mrs Darcy mentioned pleasantly that there would be room for a fourth in the carriage when she and Georgiana took Mrs Collins for a drive around the countryside that day. Would she like to come along?

Caroline considered it for a short while and accepted the invitation gracefully. She did not know Mrs Collins well, but there was nothing offensive about the lady other than her husband, and certainly nothing concerning her could be seen in any way as competition. And besides, Miss Darcy would be of the party and the excursion was probably a good beginning to mending fences with Elizabeth.

Elizabeth explained some of her purposes during the ride to Lucas Lodge. “Poor Charlotte does not often get a respite from her domestic duties – even when visiting here in Hertfordshire – and now, from the care of her daughter. I had to work at it somewhat, to convince her to leave her child with her mother and forego her chores for a day. We sometimes forget that not everybody in our circle has that luxury of leisure.”

Georgiana said a few words of agreement and Caroline, after a pause, could not disagree.

“And as well,” Elizabeth added with a mischievous grin, “do you not agree that Mrs Collins would greatly enjoy a day away from her husband?”

“You do not care for your cousin,” Caroline ventured.

“No – not very much. He is a stupid, obtuse sort of man.” Elizabeth caught herself speaking with some undercurrents of vexation, and realized a little too late that perhaps similar inferences could be drawn about another gentleman in their circle. Fortunately, Caroline did not appear to notice, although Elizabeth could not tell whether that was unconsciously or deliberately.

“I cannot disagree, but I am not certain that it is my place to say such a thing of your relation.”

Elizabeth wanted to remark that she would have been disappointed in Miss Bingley if she had said otherwise. However, she felt that she had perhaps already spoken too injudiciously of her cousin’s shortcomings. She chose the safer course of simply criticizing Mr Collins’s toadeating and grovelling in a tactful and evasive way. At least Mr Rushworth did not share those traits.

“I wonder why Miss Lucas married him.”

“She was almost eight-and-twenty, and feared that no other offer would be made to her. Ironic, is it not, and rather sad, that at such an age Mr Darcy is thought young but poor Charlotte was deemed to be practically on the shelf. Like my own sisters, the Lucas girls had no dowries to speak of. You know that Mr Collins is the heir to the Longbourn estate. In a prudent light, it was not a bad match for Charlotte.” Elizabeth sighed, plainly conveying the meaning of what she whispered next – “But such a husband!” – although the words were audible only to Georgiana.

“I had thought Mr Collins would have made an offer to one of your sisters,” Caroline said carefully. “Even, if you do not mind my saying so, to you?”

Elizabeth grimaced a little in recollection, and Georgiana, who knew the entire story, sympathized. “I shall tell you a secret, Miss Bingley. He did propose marriage to me.”

“And you refused him, of course.” The revelation was not a complete surprise. Mr Collins’s behaviour during his first visit at Longbourn had not gone unnoticed by the Bingley sisters.

“Of course,” Elizabeth said, as positive an affirmation as it was in her power to make.

“I recall the man did hover around you at the ball at Netherfield a year and a half ago.” Caroline resettled herself restlessly, recollecting that at the time, she had entertained a great deal of inward gloating over the hated Eliza Bennet’s unattractive shadow.

“Yes. For several reasons – none of which had anything to do with you or your brother and sister, who were gracious hosts – I found myself unable to fully enjoy myself at that event.”

“You refused him … even though you lacked a dowry and your father’s estate was entailed?”

“I could not respect or like him.” Elizabeth firmly suppressed the simmering memories of another refused proposal. Recalling Mr Collins’s awkward obstinacy in not perceiving her disinterest in his offer was unpleasant enough. Aware of what she had learned since her marriage, the mere thought today of having such a man as a husband could turn her stomach.

Caroline could not suppress her curiosity about something else. “And might I ask a question that you may consider out of line and not wish to answer?” At Elizabeth’s nod, she continued, “Had you at the time any notion of a possible offer from Mr Darcy?”

“At the time,” Elizabeth said, “I understood Mr Darcy soon to be engaged to Miss de Bourgh. Only later on did I find that to be merely a fiction of his aunt’s. And also, I did not expect to meet him again. Your party had left Netherfield by then.” The timing was not strictly true; Mr Collins’s proposal had come before Miss Bingley’s fateful letter, but it seemed unnecessary to belabour the point. Georgiana knew the full circumstances, but wisely remained silent.

Contemplating all of the implications, Caroline regarded Mrs Darcy with a growing respect.

“I have never really forgiven my cousin for having had the effrontery to propose marriage to me, in light of my obvious disinclination for his company for many days before that ridiculous interview,” Elizabeth added after a while. “The man would not take no for an answer, even after I tried to explain to him several times in clear, simple language that I was neither interested nor suitable.”

Caroline smiled slightly. “Did he have notions that young ladies of fashion must play the coquette with their suitors?”

“Yes, he did. And while perhaps such displays are amusing in plays, it is not in my nature to behave that way. His insistence that this was what I was about was both ludicrous and offensive.”

Elizabeth glanced out of the window and saw that they were nearly at their destination. “Come, we have arrived,” she announced, continuing in a more gleeful tone of voice, “I will speak no more of my silly cousin’s past missteps. Now observe me, both of you, and watch me being outstandingly charming to an absurd man who will merit it solely because I do not wish to dismay the rest of his family.”

At Lucas Lodge, Sir William’s exuberant greetings to the carriage-load of visiting ladies were rendered considerably more palatable by the contrast to his son-in-law’s scraping and fawning. At least Sir William did not make mention of her Ladyship even once. And Mr Collins was also greatly distracted by the impending arrival of Mr Rushworth for a day of horticultural advice – he had hurried to the window to peer out eagerly on hearing the carriage, thinking it was his newfound friend.

Charlotte brought little Catherine to the parlour to show her to Miss Bingley and Miss Darcy. Elizabeth watched Caroline closely as to her reactions to the infant, and was gratified to see that she did not hold herself above some cooing pleasantries and play with the babe. Her sister-in-law she had no concerns about on that score. Georgiana had hinted several times how eager she was to become an aunt. If there was any discomfort arising from the little family tableau, it owed everything to Mr Collins and his clumsy, ill-timed endearments to his two loved ones.

Caroline’s sympathies for Charlotte were rising quickly, and she was glad when the ladies rose to depart.

Soon enough they were settled in the carriage for their country drive. Mr Collins saw them off from the front door with a simpering little wave for Charlotte and his best wishes for his little Pumpkin to have an enjoyable time. Elizabeth shivered with distaste and Caroline, torn between smile and grimace, elegantly hid her expression behind her gloved hand.

Georgiana had a great curiosity to hear directly from the source how Mrs Collins was coping with the grand Lady Catherine de Bourgh at Hunsford. Unlike Mr Collins, she referred to her Ladyship not by her title but only as her aunt, and thus made the subject matter more bearable for all. And because she had her own ample memories of intimidation, she was fully prepared to empathize.

“Your aunt,” Charlotte said to Georgiana, “does specify very exactly to Mr Collins what he should expect from my housekeeping. He writes it all down – lists for every day of the week of chores that must be done daily, or on a less frequent cycle. And when I was first there, he frequently watched over me to ensure that everything was performed to her Ladyship’s standards.”

Elizabeth had not heard this before, and had seen few signs of such zealous oversight during her visit to Hunsford a year earlier. “You must have disabused him of that ridiculous notion quickly. After all, you have very ably helped your mother run the household at Lucas Lodge for years.”

“Yes, and before we had been married a month, I put my foot down. A certain amount of inaccuracy tends to creep in between the recitation of domestic duties to an intermediary and the later entry of them onto a list from memory. I told Mr Collins that he was welcome to retrieve instructions from her Ladyship all he liked, but that I would manage the household my way.”

“Oh, my,” said Georgiana in sympathetic fearfulness, “what did my aunt do then?”

“Mr Collins first pleaded with me, … ”

Most humbly and pathetically, Elizabeth thought.

“ … worrying that her Ladyship’s patronage might be withdrawn if he defied her wishes.”

“She could not do that,” Georgiana protested. “Livings are granted for life.”

“And then,” Charlotte continued, “before anything about it had been resolved between us, before Lady Catherine had any reason even to know that we had quarrelled about it, Mr Collins went to Rosings specifically for the purpose of apologizing to her Ladyship for my stubbornness.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, and even Caroline looked surprised.

“What then?” Georgiana prodded.

“Her Ladyship called me in for a talk, and I stood up to her.”

Bravo, Elizabeth thought, having bested that particular dragon herself.

“I suggested that she allow me,” Charlotte explained, “as an experiment, to run the parsonage in the way I felt fit for a month, and that she could inspect the results any time she liked. If at the end we both agreed that my way was in no way superior, we would go back to the old ways.”

Caroline became interested. “And what did she say to that?”

“We ended up striking a bit of a compromise. There were a few things Lady Catherine preferred to see done another way, but on the whole she decided that I could manage everything quite well. I adjusted a few of my methods and adopted some of hers. Her Ladyship still gives me frequent and copious advice and I follow enough of it to gratify her. Such lists as there are now, I write down myself directly from the source. But we began to get along better after that.”

“You mention nothing of Mr Collins’s part in all this,” Elizabeth pointed out.

“It is not necessary,” said Charlotte calmly. “If it is what her Ladyship wishes, it is what Mr Collins wishes. He accepted our compromise because Lady Catherine did.”

And that probably resulted in the fairly smooth-running household Elizabeth had seen during her visit to Hunsford last year, she thought. She had heard Lady Catherine’s advice to Mrs Collins on numerous occasions, had witnessed Charlotte’s tranquil acceptance of it, and seen for herself that the Hunsford parsonage was run in a way very familiar to her from visits to Lucas Lodge – so familiar in fact, that she had paid it little notice at the time.

“And you, Mrs Darcy?” Caroline turned in her seat to face Elizabeth. “How are you coping with such a large household as Pemberley?”

Elizabeth peered at Caroline closely, but could see no real evidence of malicious intentions in that question. She was probably simply curious as to how a young woman brought up in a much smaller household made the adaptation to such a large one. If there was spitefulness, it was very well concealed.

“I will readily admit that it felt intimidating at the beginning. What I did for the first few weeks was spend some time observing and interviewing the servants, to discover for myself how the household had always been run. William was very understanding and supported ….” Elizabeth’s expression softened noticeably while she thought about her beloved husband, but she allowed the sentence to trail off, under the recollection that it must have been very different for Charlotte. After a barely perceptible pause, she resumed. “Georgiana was a great help too. William gave me a free hand, but before I would consider any changes in the routines, I wanted to find out whether there were any family traditions that should be maintained, any rituals that were sacrosanct. If a reason for something was unclear, I asked questions. And I learned quite a lot about the family history in the process.”

Caroline nodded. “That makes sense.” She was reluctant to admit it, but felt more respect than she had expected to. If Pemberley had become hers, she had always imagined that she would have swept through with immediate and radical changes, and she now began to realize that perhaps it would not have been the best approach.

“Lizzy has done very well,” Georgiana put in, eager to defend her beloved new sister-in-law. “William is pleased, the servants are contented – and the changes she has made since arriving have all been rational and well-received.”

“The arrival of a new mistress is always an uneasy time for the servants,” Elizabeth added with a smile. “I trust that by now they are reassured that I am not capricious and unreasonable.”

For an uncomfortable moment, Caroline thought that this might be a barb aimed at her own enthusiastically stated joy in reorganization and redecorating upon taking over a new house. But Elizabeth’s smile bore no malice and reached her eyes.

Caroline could not resist asking, “Are you making over any rooms or doing any new-furnishing?”

“Only to those rooms that come up in the usual cycle of renewing. Each year one or two of the rooms that have gone the longest without change might be made up-to-date, a sort of continual project. I like both houses very much the way they were when I arrived, and although William declared himself amenable to any changes I might desire to any room in either house, I feel no urgent need to make alterations simply for the sake of novelty.”

“Lizzy has done over the old green parlour at Pemberley,” Georgiana said. “We were not using it often, it always made me feel so gloomy. But now – it is still the green parlour, but lighter and much more pleasant than it was before – it is becoming a favourite room.”

“And you have helped me a great deal with that, Georgie.”

Caroline had no memory of a green parlour, and had not in fact seen all of the house in either of her two previous visits to the estate. She said a few words about looking forward to seeing the room in the forthcoming summer during the Bingleys’ visit.

“And you, Miss Bingley, might too have a house to make over, if certain events come to pass?” Charlotte ventured, a little uncertainly.

“Those events are by no means certain,” Caroline replied circumspectly. “But it is true that I will greatly enjoy having a house of my own for which to select designs and furnishings. I would have done so for Netherfield, but it is only leased, and it is Jane’s place to do so now in any case.”

Caroline had much to contemplate when the subject of redecorating had been exhausted. Mr Darcy was rather austere in some ways of thinking, she knew, even if she had not liked to admit it in all her previous designs for capturing his heart. He would not have looked too kindly on major reorganizations of his houses, which were undoubtedly maintained in the styles they were because he liked them that way. He could easily afford to have them made over in any way that he wished; the fact that he had not done so spoke volumes. It appeared that he had declared himself willing to accede to Elizabeth’s tastes, but that perhaps displayed more trust in their harmony with his own than real desire for change. An extensive remodelling to current fashion by Miss Bingley would not have been welcomed at all, much as she itched to be at work on such a project.

But Mr Rushworth was a different matter. He would probably allow Miss Bingley’s imagination free reign, and had a larger income (and none of it spent on books) to allow his wife to create splendid masterpieces of domestic design. From what Caroline could gather, Sotherton Court was sadly behind the times and cried out for her touch – yet, some nagging questions persisted about the dowager’s tenacity. Although much remained at war inside Caroline’s head in the matter of her wealthy suitor, thoughts of the vast estate could generally always settle things down.

On the ladies’ return to Netherfield, they discovered that Mrs Bennet had indeed been there. They were informed explicitly, but Mr Bingley’s slightly defeated demeanour and the expression of exhaustion in Jane’s eyes rendered it somewhat redundant.

Kitty had accompanied her mother, Elizabeth was told, and had agreed to come on the visit solely in hopes of a chance to speak with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Kitty had been sorely disappointed to find that gentleman already gone, and had spent the rest of the visit alternately in sighs of boredom and in trepidation at the possible return of Mr Rushworth from Lucas Lodge – an unexpected setback to Mrs Bennet’s matrimonial designs for her family – and her mother’s insistence that she should entertain him.

After determining that William was still in the library dealing with correspondence, Elizabeth went to him there. He looked up and watched her approach with enjoyment plain on his countenance, clearly happy with such an excuse for a break in his work. Reaching his chair, she ran her hand through his hair affectionately, straightened a few errant locks, leaned down, and kissed him fondly.

Mr Darcy had not been in the room the entire time. He had emerged to pay his respects to Mrs Bennet, and had been pressed most urgently to accept an invitation to dine at Longbourn on the following day.

“You could have pleaded an excuse, William.” Elizabeth moved behind him and kneaded his shoulders, as though assuaging some tension over such a prospect for the morrow.

“It would only delay the inevitable, Lizzy. We must dine with your family a few times before returning home, and your mother is expecting Georgiana as well.”

Elizabeth was pleased that he was able to agree to such a thing unprompted or without the assistance of meaningful looks from her, but she also sighed inwardly. “I will speak with Georgiana before we go. I would like to be sure that she continues to feel well fortified against the almost certain mention of Mr Wickham. But I wish I knew how to reassure her that none of them know a thing about Ramsgate without having to stir up her own unpleasant recollections as well.”

Mr Darcy rose from his seat in front of his correspondence and documents and caught her to him in a warm embrace that spoke a great deal of his gratitude for her understanding. “I believe you will know exactly what to say to her if it should come to that.”

Mr Rushworth’s considerable estate and fortune continued to be a subject of great fascination for the mothers of unmarried daughters in Meryton. Mrs Bennet, aware of it all, kept close watch on the activities of her various acquaintances, and was always set to report comprehensively on the competitive behaviour of her neighbours to all who would hear her.

Elizabeth was not so inclined to listen, and endeavoured, when the Darcy family came to Longbourn for dinner, to stop the summary before it could get underway and cause her any amount of mortification. With great energy, she directed the conversation to other things that she thought would entrance her mother and supply her with safe news to disseminate: the garden schemes for the summer that surely were already underway by the competent Pemberley groundskeepers, a possible trip to the Lake District at the end of the summer, improvements to the great dining room at the house in town to be completed by autumn. It served to while away the first half hour or so of the visit, until Mr Darcy could retreat to the library with Mr Bennet without offending the hostess.

Perversely, at the very point in the visit wherein Mrs Bennet could safely unburden herself of her concerns about the usurping of her hopes for Mr Rushworth, she did not bring up the subject at all, but doggedly seized on the subject of the dining room alterations and refused to let it go. She wanted to know everything, from the colour of the walls to the choice of painting over the chimneypiece, from the design of the plates to the pattern of the silverware – everything, in fact, upon which nothing had yet been decided. Nor did that stop her. In such a void of firm decisions, she became full of suggestions, none of which Elizabeth found even remotely to her taste.

Georgiana listened to it all, along with Kitty and Mary. Kitty was busily seconding all of her mother’s ideas, and adding some of her own that were even more baroque. Mary was preaching restraint and economy and wondering primly whether any of the existing furnishings of the room, belonging as they did to the wealthy Darcy family, could not still be deemed adequate for continued use. Both Georgiana and Elizabeth tended to agree with Mary’s prudent ideas, but her sanctimonious tone of voice did not make her notions sound very endearing. Kitty and Mrs Bennet, of course, dismissed all of Mary’s offerings out of hand, with such vulgar declarations that Mr Darcy could surely afford to do everything over brand new that Elizabeth felt ashamed and glad that her husband was not in the room to hear it. Georgiana, on the other hand, tried hard to stifle giggles and mostly succeeded.

At least Wickham is not being mentioned, Elizabeth thought to herself with something she made herself feel to be akin to relief.

Finally, frustrated at the cool reception her expertise was meeting with her ungrateful daughter, Mrs Bennet turned her attention to a different and possibly more amenable target. “Well, Kitty, my dear, when you marry Mr Rushworth, I am sure you will be more appreciative of your mother’s advice in making over your new house.”

“Mama –”

“Oh, hush, Kitty. You know I mean for you to marry Mr Rushworth. He has twelve thousand pounds a year, you know. I must have you well settled, for otherwise I do not know what will become of all of us when the Collinses turn me out of this house.”

Elizabeth sighed. It was inevitable that the topic would come up, and she hoped it would burn itself out before dinner. “Mama, have faith in your sons-in-law. Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley will ensure that you suffer no discomforts.”

“For it is not insulting enough that Lady Lucas should have designs for Maria to marry Mr Rushworth.” Mrs Bennet prattled on, promised future succour ignored. “Mrs Long has lately been speaking of him for one of her nieces, and now Mrs King has begun to think of him for her daughter. I don’t know how I will cope, and Kitty is being so difficult.”

“Mama!”

“Well, I should not wish to marry Mr Rushworth,” Mary said. “I have no interest in being the mistress of such a large house or in all of the social obligations that must accompany such a situation. You are welcome to him, Kitty.”

“Oh, who asked you?” Kitty flung back irritably.

“Oh, hush, girls,” Mrs Bennet exclaimed. “Think of my nerves. With everything to vex me about Mrs Long and Mrs King and Lady Lucas and their schemes to thwart me, I cannot endure your quarrelling as well.”

By the time the gentlemen emerged from the library, Mrs Bennet had run out of subjects over which to scold her uncooperative daughter, and had turned to the always fascinating matter of measuring the shortcomings of the ladies of the neighbourhood against the superiorities of her own children. Kitty could do little more than plead, “Mama!” and nothing – meaningful looks or frowns from the others or quiet requests to let the matter rest – promised to stem the tide even as the family went into the dining room for their meal.

Elizabeth, seated to her father’s left, heard enough to make her wish she could crawl into a hole and disappear for a while. Mr Bennet bore his usual expression of sardonic amusement over everything. Mr Darcy affected his inscrutable mask. Georgiana was very quiet, but her eyes revealed a great deal of the amusement she was feeling. Too ladylike to comment openly at the dinner table, or to make sport of the matter privately later on, she was nevertheless very much alive to the novelty of a fairly benign but ridiculous family squabble and she was inclined to simply enjoy the show.

Mr Bennet exchanged a glance with Mr Darcy, who was seated between Elizabeth and Mrs Bennet. Unspoken between them was wonder and bemusement over the tribulations that must be often endured at this table, and at the contrast this event must pose to the family dinners at Pemberley.

Mr Darcy said nothing; his immediate family party was with him now, sharing all of his disquiet. He could not disagree with the supposed sentiments and out of politeness neither could he express his thoughts. And part of him was torn between concurring with his father-in-law’s sarcastic remarks – of which he had received a healthy helping in the privacy of the library – and deploring the impropriety of such disrespectful behaviour toward Mrs Bennet. He thought of his aunt and idly wondered how calm her Ladyship’s reactions would be to a sardonic foil like his father-in-law.

Only a trace of a crease between his brows betrayed Mr Darcy’s feelings, and only Elizabeth interpreted it accurately. She sighed to herself. The two exchanged looks and surreptitiously clasped hands under the table. They understood each other’s discomforts, but there was not much that they could do.

Mrs Bennet was directing her remarks primarily to Kitty, at her left. She had been embroiled for quite a while in the enumeration of the relative merits of her own daughter compared with Miss Lucas, Miss King, and Mrs Long’s nieces, attempting to justify the superiority of the squirming Kitty as a wife to Mr Rushworth over the rest, and she was running out of useful qualities to compare.

“Unfortunately, Miss King is somewhat taller than you, Kitty.” With a glance at Miss Darcy, Mrs Bennet added, “However, I believe Miss Darcy may be taller even than Miss King. Mrs King has been taking on such superior airs. I shall tell her a thing or two.”

Elizabeth cringed, fearing that the analysis might be about to expand to include her shy sister-in-law.

“And Rushworth is eager to have the tallest wife possible, of course,” Mr Bennet contributed, tired of the subject at last and deftly deflecting whatever concerned remarks Mr Darcy might have been about to make.

Elizabeth reflected to herself with great amusement that Miss Bingley was taller than any of the young ladies in the neighbourhood.

“If necessary, my dear,” Mr Bennet continued to his wife, “we can fit Kitty with stilts. Nathan is becoming bored with the past few days’ repairs to the stables. I will speak to him tomorrow morning and it might make an interesting project for him.” He looked Kitty in the eye, and said with deliberate and perfect seriousness, “And you, Kitty, have only a week or so to become enough of a proficient at dancing on stilts to impress Mr Rushworth at the next assembly. Do you think you can do it?”

“Papa!”

“Oh, do not talk such nonsense, Mr Bennet.”

“Yes, perhaps such misdirection about the height of his intended would inevitably be discovered in time by a man with acute powers of observation such as we know Rushworth to possess. We should consider such subterfuges as beneath us.”

“But, height aside, Miss King has freckles,” Mrs Bennet said peevishly.

“We shall paint some freckles on your face, Kitty,” said Mr Bennet. “We must not have you wanting in any aspect.”

“Papa!”

“And I cannot abide freckles,” added Mrs Bennet.

“Well, then, I am sorry if I misunderstood you, my dear. With all the cataloguing of the virtues of the young ladies of the neighbourhood that you have been engaged in for the past little while, it is, I hope, forgivable of me that I should mistake the attribute of freckles for a desirable thing.”

Mr Darcy began to relax his grave expression somewhat. Despite his reservations about the master’s ridicule of his wife, with each visit to the Bennet family he grew more sympathetic to his father-in-law’s situation and more understanding of his brand of mockery. And, although he was not fond of admitting to it, he could balance Mrs Bennet’s inappropriate remarks quite handily with some equally questionable ones made by his aunt, especially those voiced recently about his choice of wife. In the end, however, there was considerable humour to be found in the dinner conversation, and Darcy noticed that with the threats to Georgiana’s ease averted, Elizabeth was making no effort to hide a spark of amusement in her eyes.

Mrs Bennet’s persistence on her topic outlasted everyone’s patience to hear about it, and finally, Elizabeth said with some exasperation, “Mama, I wish you could ease your mind. We have it on very good authority that Mr Rushworth’s interests are already fixed elsewhere, so the whole subject is moot.”

Kitty began to look relieved.

“That is not what Lady Lucas and the others believe,” Mrs Bennet said fretfully. “They will not stop speaking of it.”

Elizabeth suspected the reason for that was because her mother could not avoid bringing up the matter, and it tended to set them all off. She continued, “Might I suggest, then, that the next time you visit your friends, you mention to them that Mr Rushworth has other interests. Speak calmly and firmly, with confidence and certainty, so that they will believe you. It may put a stop to their annoying behaviour, but you will need to do your part and not encourage them. And do not let those other ladies vex you – their information is not as good as mine.”

Much later, in the privacy of their bedchamber at Netherfield, Mr Darcy mentioned with carefully chosen words his certainty that Mr Bingley must have been the subject of similar speculation among the Meryton matrons a year and a half earlier, and with some chagrin, he added his suspicions that his own aloof and proud behaviour may have spared him much of the same.

Elizabeth could not disagree, and was still overcoming a great deal of embarrassment over her mother’s behaviour. “The most positive thing I can say about tonight is that Mama must be feeling fairly comfortable in your presence by now, William. She was far too afraid of you last autumn.”

“Do not let it make you uneasy, Lizzy,” William replied, with a reassuring squeeze to her hand. “Consider this a consolation: Mr and Mrs Wickham were not mentioned even once today.”

Chapter 10

On the pretext of appreciating the fine spring weather, Caroline invited Georgiana to accompany her for a stroll in Netherfield’s gardens. Her true purpose, however, was to inquire after her friend’s enjoyment of the previous day’s dinner at Longbourn, away from the hazards of being overheard by the others,.

Georgiana’s reply was cautious. “It was … interesting.” She did not want to slight her beloved new sister-in-law or her family.

Caroline felt a desire to vent a trace of her old spitefulness. “I might have used a term less discreet than ‘interesting’ to describe the behaviour of your new mother-in-law.”

Georgiana became defensive. “Mrs Bennet has been nothing but kind and attentive to me, and Mr Bennet can be delightfully humorous – I begin to see where Elizabeth gets much of it from. And I like Kitty very well.”

Caroline said nothing. Kitty had always appeared a cipher to her.

“Poor Kitty,” Georgiana went on. “I am afraid Mrs Bennet has got it into her head that Mr Rushworth is unattached and available, and she is trying to encourage her to become interested in him.”

“And is she?”

“Not in the slightest, that I could see.”

Caroline was not sure whether to view this attitude of Kitty’s as showing a proper impartiality to the fortunes of eligible suitors or a highly insulting insensibility to the attractiveness of the wealthy gentleman.

“You are aware, are you not, Miss Bingley, that all of the mothers of Meryton are showing great interest in Mr Rushworth as a possible match for their daughters?”

“Oh, I am certain of it.” In a somewhat disgusted tone of voice, Caroline added, “We endured all the indignities of such gossip twofold, a year and a half ago, when my brother and yours first came to Netherfield. I still remember that dreadful assembly with horror. A never-ending parade of noise and vulgarity, and Charles did not allow us the kindness of leaving early. The room went silent for a good long moment when we came in, and almost immediately afterwards the whispers began – and of course everybody knew our incomes within five minutes. Fortune hunters, every one of them.”

“Surely you did not long think that of Jane and Elizabeth?”

“No … of Jane, not too long,” Caroline said carefully, unwilling to admit to the motives behind her manipulations of the year before. “Louisa has come to love her like a sister, and I trust her instincts. I am becoming quite fond of Jane myself. She is a sweet girl and it is not difficult to like her.”

“And Elizabeth?” Georgiana prodded.

“I had my suspicions of her motives at first.”

“I can assure you that she was no fortune hunter.”

“I too no longer believe she was, but how did you come to be so sure?”

“Because,” Georgiana answered with reluctance, for there were family secrets involved that she did not think it right to divulge, “she was not fond of my brother at first.”

“I am surprised to hear that. Your brother seemed quite taken with her not long after we all first met. I had always imagined Eliza to be returning, even encouraging, his interest. She had always appeared to me to enjoy engaging him in debate.”

Elizabeth still does, Georgiana thought, but with deep affection now rather than a desire to goad. The difference might not have been that obvious to somebody outside the family, but she, and her brother, could see it easily.

“Elizabeth did not accept my brother’s hand in marriage until she was assured that he had the qualities of character she prized.” After a moment, Georgiana thought it harmless to add, “If she had been after his fortune, she would have been won over much sooner.”

There were obviously many aspects to the history of Mr and Mrs Darcy together that Miss Bingley did not know. However, since she had decided earlier that she may have done Elizabeth a great injustice in the past by giving in to her jealousy, and because her respect had been growing after finding out about Elizabeth’s rejection of Mr Collins in spite of her uncertain future prosperity, Caroline took Georgiana at her word. Her desire for making amends outweighed any lingering resentments.

She allowed herself a short period of silence to digest all this, and said, “Returning to the subject of Mr Rushworth – it must be mortifying to him to discover that he is the subject of so much gossip and speculation in Meryton.”

Georgiana had seen and heard enough of Mr Rushworth to surmise that it was more likely that he was basking in the warmth of a gratified vanity under all the attention, but she kept her opinion to herself. Aloud, she said, merely, “Elizabeth was attempting to convince her mother to tell the others that Mr Rushworth is already spoken for, in hopes of putting a stop to the nonsense.”

Caroline bristled. “So she makes me the subject of foolish Meryton prattle instead?”

“She does not! She has never once to my knowledge mentioned your name in connection with Mr Rushworth – only that his affections may be already engaged.”

“Good.”

“Miss Bingley … may I ask you something …?”

“Oh, Georgiana, you must not be so hesitant! You are a dear and trusted friend; you may ask me anything you like.”

“It is just that you appear so … impersonal … together with Mr Rushworth. Oh, I did not mean to offend you! I just wonder whether –”

“My dear Georgiana! You are concerned whether I feel what I ought to for Mr Rushworth.”

When Georgiana bestowed upon her companion something like a knowing look, Caroline found herself recollecting her recent conversation with Louisa with no little guilt. Nothing in the least way enlightening had come from that talk. But she quickly realized that they had then discussed whether she should accept a possible offer from Mr Rushworth, not whether she felt any affection for him. It was not the same thing at all.

“I do not know,” Caroline finally said. “What ought I to feel? I certainly do not harbour any of those sentiments that some would call romantic when I contemplate marriage. There are so many arranged marriages where there is no trace of affection, only family fortunes to consolidate. While I enjoy the luxury of being able to choose for myself, I must allow that the prospects of wealth and superior connections are a great incentive, and I am hardly alone in that.”

Georgiana looked a little distressed. “I am sorry to hear that, Miss Bingley. Did you know that I felt myself to be in love once? But it turned out that my would-be suitor was only interested in my fortune, and it required my brother’s finding that out to open my eyes.”

“Oh! My dear Georgiana, how that must have hurt you! And you so young, too.”

“Yes, it hurt – at the time. But I am recovered now, and I have since found that the … gentleman … was anything but a gentleman. I have learned that a fortune does not evoke genuine affection from such as he. I am beginning to be afraid that I will not know if a young man will like me for myself or for my dowry.”

“I believe your brother will always look out for you.”

The two traversed the path from one end of the garden to the other, Georgiana deep in contemplation, until she broke the silence. “But what about poor Mr Rushworth? He does not appear to be a clever man like my brother. He would probably not realize –”

“That my interest in him is primarily for his fortune?” Caroline paused, pondering the implications of this. Uncomfortably, she wondered whether Georgiana was actually fully aware of what her seemingly innocent remark implied concerning another young man whose fortune had once been the subject of great fascination.

Georgiana nodded, slightly discomfited by the turn of the conversation.

“I do not believe that men are so romantic in their notions. They must know that the women they court will be aware of their estates and incomes, and that if these are lacking, the young women will not be interested. I could never love a man who was penniless.” But no sooner were these words out of Caroline’s mouth, than thoughts of Colonel Fitzwilliam arose unbidden in her mind. Although not entirely penniless, he had no expectations of great wealth. But he was the most amiable, the most attractive single man in her acquaintance. The mere image of him in her head caused her the most peculiar and contradictory of feelings. Caroline pushed these notions firmly away.

“Did you love my brother?” But a moment after she had blurted out the question, Georgiana’s eyes went wide and she clapped a hand over her mouth, astonished at her own boldness.

It caught Miss Bingley unprepared. For a moment she had nothing to say, and finally she had to admit that, however handsome and clever she acknowledged Mr Darcy to be, they really did not have tastes and opinions in common. Silently, she conceded that it was far and away his wealth that had interested her the most.

Georgiana could readily guess at what was not actually stated out loud, and was not offended. Young as she was, she had already seen a plentiful supply of that phenomenon among the friends of the family, and knew that to keep the more egregious of such attentions at bay, her brother had never disabused anybody of the useful fiction that he might be intended for Anne de Bourgh.

Caroline was beginning to feel slightly guilty. She was perfectly aware that Mr Rushworth’s former wife had shown him no warmer feelings than those she herself currently harboured. She was learning also that Mr Rushworth’s sentiments were easily manipulated – it appeared to have required only a few well-placed opinions from third parties to convince him that he might be in love, or at least might be feeling something that masqueraded thus. Both Mr Rushworth’s mother and a meddlesome aunt of his former wife had been actively promoting the match. Caroline felt confident that she had already laid an ample groundwork in charming old Mrs Rushworth, and she knew it would take only a small further expenditure of effort to capture what remained at large of the son’s heart. A bit of well-placed flattery, some particular attentions, a little more flirtatiousness, all of it properly timed, and he – and his estate and fortune – could be hers. Did she want it? And could she accept it on such terms in all good conscience?

“Yes, wealth can be a great incentive,” Georgiana said, breaking into Caroline’s reverie. “I think my brother was very fortunate in attaching Elizabeth, because it did not make a difference to her. And as for Mr Rushworth – even if you were to decide against him, his income must make many ladies interested in him, and not only here in Meryton.”

With this remark, Caroline’s contemplations shifted into another direction. If Mr Rushworth, so lacking as he was in certain charms and personal appeal, were fated to be captured on the strength of his formidable income alone, she need feel no greater guilt than any other lady over being the one to accomplish the deed. Unfortunately, Caroline was left no closer than she ever had been to being able to make up her mind.

Made drowsy by the tedium of an unplanned afternoon and resting in a comfortable chair facing a parlour window, Mr Rushworth overheard Mr and Mrs Darcy, out of view in an adjacent room, engage each other in a lively although not loud debate. It was over the long-term prospects of happiness for the leading pair in All’s Well That Ends Well, their union formed as it was out of the bestowal of the groom as a reward and some trickery on the part of the lady to meet her reluctant husband’s conditions for the earning of his love. He had not seen the play himself, nor had he read it, and he felt that literary discussions of that type were for scholars, not for married couples in parlours on uneventful days. However, he was struck by the name of that unenthusiastic spouse – Bertram, Count of Rousillon. It opened up infelicitous recollections and Mr Rushworth expected that if he had ever to endure the viewing of that play, he would already be disposed to dislike the character immensely. By the time he overcame his sulk, he had missed much of what the Darcys had spoken of, and became dimly aware that neither of them seemed to care any more for the Count’s qualities than he had decided for himself. That gained them his approbation, although perhaps for ridiculous reasons.

The rest of what Mr and Mrs Darcy had to say about the play consisted of fairly deep literary analysis that went largely over Mr Rushworth’s head. Some of the words and concepts were quite unfamiliar to him. It was not dissimilar to other conversations between the two that Mr Rushworth had overheard; he thought that couple lived in a rarefied world and seemed very well matched. Handsome, elegant, clever, well read … and dull.

Elizabeth heard a prodigious yawn from behind the partly open door. She realized that Caroline’s worthy suitor had been resting in the room beyond, and whatever he might have overheard of their discussion must have bored him mightily. She decided that her husband and Mr Rushworth each must consider the other equally tedious. It was an insight that was as unlikely to surprise Mr Darcy as it might astonish Mr Rushworth.

After that weekend of doubts and perceived threats prompted by the presence of the mischievous Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Darcy no longer caused Mr Rushworth any alarm. Whatever inordinate interest Miss Bingley might have appeared to show in her family’s illustrious connection was eclipsed thoroughly by the friendliness she displayed when with the affable Colonel. And as for Mrs Darcy, who had at first offended him a little by seeming to join with the Colonel in making mock of him – had she not redeemed herself by having had the wisdom and foresight to introduce him to the inestimable Mr Collins? A truer kindred spirit he had not met for a long time. Mr Rushworth was already resolved on including that horticulturally gifted parson in the invitation to stay at Sotherton that he planned to issue soon. With newfound peace of mind, he allowed the quiet conversation between Mr and Mrs Darcy to follow its course around him. Even understanding as little of the subjects of their discussions as he did, it was clear to Mr Rushworth from other things – frequent loving touches and warm looks, occasional overheard endearments – that there was a very deep and genuine affection between the two. There were no threats here.

Mr Rushworth had two other married couples besides the Darcys to observe during his stay at Netherfield, all of them different enough from the others to be plainly distinguishable to him, even with his limited abilities to judge character.

Mr Hurst could be an enjoyable companion at dinner, sharing with Mr Rushworth a love of good food. He was a quiet man and kept to himself, with little to say in large parties. His wife often was likewise rather quiet, but this was not a drawback in Mr Rushworth’s eyes. A proper woman like Louisa Hurst would not attract a rake like Crawford, and would never do something so indecent as his former wife had done. The Hursts at least were kind to each other, and if there was not a great deal of affection there, neither was there rancour. The match was comfortable, like an old pair of boots. Mr Rushworth thought he might prefer a younger and thus prettier woman, one perhaps a little more lively and outgoing, although not so outspoken and opinionated as Mrs Darcy appeared to be. But he could happily settle for a lady like Mrs Hurst, if that were to be his fate, and would not mind at all if Miss Caroline in some of these ways were to turn out to resemble her older sister.

And finally, with great tranquillity of mind, Mr Rushworth had watched Mr and Mrs Bingley in their day-to-day routines of cheerful domesticity. Now there was a happy couple, and not at all inaccessible in their usual conversation. Neither of them made demands on the other. The household operated smoothly for the most part and any mistakes or oversights on the part of the servants were dealt with serenely and with good humour by the master and mistress. Mr Rushworth ground his teeth thinking of a few disruptive malcontents at Sotherton, and wondered how honest servants could be under such good-natured management. But there was little to criticize at Netherfield. Mrs Bingley was an excellent example of what an ideal wife might be: beautiful, agreeable, proper, and respectful to her husband. It was true that there seemed to be little overt passion of the sort that he suspected simmered under the proper façades of Mr and Mrs Darcy – although the Bingleys might well behave quite differently when nobody else was about. But Mr Rushworth had endured more than he cared for of those obsessions – they had rolled over, under and around him, never gifting him directly with their forbidden deliciousness. He had seen a seasoned manipulator of such emotions work his arts upon his wife, and he suspected that lady herself to have been a woman of keen ardour … but not with him. No, Mr Rushworth had finished with passions; they were not for him. Mrs Bingley had to be his ideal. He hoped something of her good nature would rub off on her unmarried sister-in-law.

“You are very fortunate in your choice of wife, Mr Bingley,” Mr Rushworth remarked following dinner, after the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies in the drawing room. A slight excess of port had loosened his tongue. Nobody stopped him as he continued, “She is beautiful and proper, holds her silence when you talk and speaks to you with respect.”

Mr Bingley looked at Jane with adoration and confirmed his guest’s conjecture with great enthusiasm. Caroline, suspecting herself of not quite measuring up to that ideal, did not entirely share her brother’s happiness.

“And is that all you require in a wife?” Mr Hurst asked.

Mr Darcy, who had not overindulged, kept his expression neutral and judged it best merely to listen quietly for awhile and follow this line of thought passively.

Mr Rushworth had to give the question what for him was intensive thought. It might probably be best answered by describing the imaginary woman who varied the most extremely from the highly resented former Maria Bertram. On the other hand, that scandalous lady had possessed some qualities that at one time, before the wicked Crawford had instilled certain prejudices in him, he had prized. Surely he should not dismiss from his notice worthy attributes that had nothing to do with Maria’s susceptibility to temptation, simply because she had owned them?

“She should be constant,” Mr Rushworth finally stated. “If she makes a promise, she should not allow herself to be distracted by any little, pretentious, plain man from town who might come into her path. She should have clear enough sight to see such villains for the unworthy deceitful dogs that they are.”

Caroline felt slightly guilty, although in her heart she knew that Colonel Fitzwilliam was not a rake – nor, she added to herself loyally, was he pretentious or plain – and she took Mr Darcy at his word that his cousin was completely honourable.

Elizabeth, at least passingly aware of Miss Bingley’s inner struggles over the charms of the Colonel, felt it in everyone’s best interests to deflect the line of reasoning. “As the master of a great estate,” she said to Mr Rushworth, “surely you have requirements of any lady you contemplate taking as your wife that touch on her suitability to be the mistress of that estate?” There, she added to herself, a place where Caroline Bingley can shine sufficiently to light up a Mr Rushworth! She smiled at Miss Bingley – a friendly smile, free of any malice or spite – and hoped that her intentions would be clearly understood. Simply confirm his requirements, Elizabeth thought, willing Miss Bingley to catch her unspoken suggestion, with everything about yourself that you ever thought might once have captivated Mr Darcy.

Mr Rushworth, already on unsteady ground as to his own obligations as the master of his estate, was unprepared to expound on his opinions regarding the characteristics that his future wife must possess. The former young Mrs Rushworth had been so lacking, so remiss, that he scarcely knew where to begin.

“Do you not agree, Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth went on, “that an extensive estate such as Sotherton Court will benefit greatly from a mistress with a good understanding of the requirements of the family and the capabilities of the servants, in order that the house be efficiently and fairly run?”

This was bait that Caroline happily took. Even though she was rapidly becoming far more accepting of and civil to Mrs Darcy, the opportunity to show her mettle in an area where she had no doubts of her own abilities was not one to be missed. She thanked Elizabeth with an appreciative but superior smile, and, turning to Mr Rushworth, set out to provide him with the benefit of her experiences at Netherfield before her brother’s marriage.

“You have often mentioned your difficulties with your steward. You will surely wish for the mistress of your household not to have similar troubles with your housekeeper. Your wife must take a firm hand with the servants from the beginning, not permitting too much leeway, dealing with mistakes and transgressions quickly and authoritatively. But she must also be fair and not seen as capricious – nothing loses the respect of a servant so quickly as does the too frequent issuing of whimsical or fickle orders. A competent mistress will be able to smooth over the follies of the family and always present an even face to the household servants.”

Caroline beamed; she was proud of her speech. She thought it very well said, even though she had been guilty in the past of some violations of her own guidelines, and turned a look of small triumph in Elizabeth’s direction.

Elizabeth considered Miss Bingley’s remarks quite appropriate to the occasion and nodded slightly in her direction. Mr Rushworth looked pleased and said something approving.

Caroline took it as a sign to continue and returned her attention to Mr Rushworth. “A man of your consequence must entertain his neighbours and friends in suitable style, whether in the country or in town. You will need a wife who knows how to execute grand events in the proper and fashionable ways, that your guests will go home satisfied by the food and entertainments they have been offered, and impressed by the status and generosity shown by you, the master. Your wife must be able to preside over your table, a gracious hostess who can keep the conversation lively and her guests feeling welcome; in short, an ornament of elegance and propriety, a compliment to you and to your house, who will earn as much praise for you as for herself.”

Mr Rushworth regarded Miss Bingley with gratitude for stating his requirements so well and so eloquently. His former wife had not been like that – she had revelled in flaunting his wealth, but he had never felt her to be grateful to him for making such things possible nor had he ever felt himself to be a source of pride to her. As he enjoyed displaying his own greatness he would not deny a wife of his the opportunity of staging grand dinners and balls – but his ideal wife would include him with joy in her display.

“Yes,” Mr Rushworth said. “I would wish for a wife who could help me participate in society in a way that meets my station in life, who would stand beside me. I would want a wife who herself was in no way inferior to the fine house and rooms, and the fine entertainments which I would be able to offer my guests.”

Caroline did not reply to this. She began to think that perhaps Mr Rushworth was taking it all a little too much to heart. She certainly relished the thought of the scale of societal display that Mr Rushworth’s great income would offer her, but a small part of her did wish that Mr Rushworth himself might not be so prominent a part of it. And yet, this disinclination was one of the main faults of the man’s former wife. Caroline was once again torn between her ambitions and a small voice of conscience that warned her against repeating the past injuries to this credulous and vulnerable man.

Mr Rushworth, now well on his stride, continued to soliloquize about the qualities of his ideal wife. “She would be a useful person, when not required at my side, for I have other business of my own to occupy my time that does not concern ladies. My hunting and shooting, my supervision of the improvers I intend to hire for Sotherton, my quarrels with the steward and the troublesome tenants; these are not for her. My wife would occupy herself in the management of my house, in the overseeing of the servants, so that my meals will be on time and to my liking, the rooms aired and cleaned, the linens changed, any guests’ domestic needs seen to, letters written – and in what time she has left, she might occupy herself in the ladylike pursuits of music or stitchery.”

All during these exchanges, Mr Darcy remained quiet, indulging perhaps in a little inner bemusement. Although containing some valid points, many aspects of these visions of domestic bliss were not for him, and a glance at Elizabeth’s well-disciplined expression revealed to him, in subtleties that only he could detect, a similar disinclination on her part.

Caroline perhaps shared some of the Darcys’ reservations on what they were hearing, but she was realistic about her prospects in marriage. Mr Rushworth was describing nothing different from what was generally expected of wealthy society wives with a townhouse and a country estate to manage. Much of such a life would be tedium indeed, but joy of fine houses, the events of town and the occasional grand soirées would more than make up for it.

“And what of the rest of you?” Mr Rushworth looked at each of the other three gentlemen in turn. “Do you not agree with my list of the attributes of an ideal wife?”

The others exchanged glances, and Mr Hurst unexpectedly said, “You are the only gentleman among us who enjoys the advantage of bachelorhood in this case. If any of us do not exactly describe our own wives on such an occasion, we must face an uneasy night.”

That remark evoked some smiles, even from Mr Darcy. It was a rare glimpse of the sometimes humorous man Mr Hurst had been before his marriage. He could not, the others thought, be very deeply into his cups that evening to have made such a statement.

“This is all very good,” Elizabeth said after a while, “but we ladies must be permitted our fair share of this debate. We have opinions too, in what qualities we require in an ideal husband.”

“And those might be …?” Mr Darcy prompted.

“I believe that those who matter the most to me already know what I value - a man whom I am able to respect, like … and love.”

“You make it sound so simple.” Caroline fidgeted uncomfortably, with renewed awareness that for her wealthy would-be suitor, she entertained none of those feelings.

Mr Rushworth spent a few minutes mulling over Elizabeth’s summary. The look of confirmation that the lady had bestowed upon her beloved as she spoke had made it even plainer. It was brief and to the point, and straightforward enough for even the scope of Mr Rushworth’s understanding. Without having to exert himself mentally to any great extent, he knew with humiliated certainty that Maria Bertram had felt none of the three for him, before or after their marriage. In the aftermath of the divorce, he had been assisted by his mother’s insights – for she too had been duped - to the mortifying conclusion that Maria’s decisions to accept him had been propelled not only by his enormous wealth but also by desires to instil envy in her stifling family and to convince everyone that she suffered no pangs over the recently decamped Crawford. And he had been fool enough to allow himself to be blind to all these evils.

But he must have a wife – to ensure the succession of the estate if for no other reason, for he was the last of his line. And while during his more optimistic moments he was able to convince himself that Miss Bingley at least felt something for him, there were other times when he was certain her sentiments were no better than those of his unlamented former wife.

“Perhaps it is sufficient,” Caroline said, “to hope that a potential husband is at least kind and considerate, undemanding and even-tempered, understanding of the piques and tempers that ladies are sometimes prone to, and a good provider.” She was describing her own brother, Caroline realized with an inner start, but however weak-willed she sometimes thought him to be, Charles was by no means an unsuitable example. Jane seemed to catch this meaning as well, and smilingly nodded her agreement.

Mr Rushworth’s disquiet was eased by this: he could be kind and even-tempered and indulgent, and he was certainly in a position to be a good provider. That he was also sometimes sulky and defensive, he chose mostly to overlook. His gaze met Miss Bingley’s, and he imagined that a communication of mutual understanding had been exchanged between the two of them.

“I have made many mistakes,” Mr Rushworth finally said. “My ill-advised marriage five years ago was probably the greatest of them.”

“None of us can claim to have made no mistakes in our lives,” Mr Bingley said to him soothingly. “You should not take too much upon yourself.”

“You probably were greatly deceived by others,” Mr Hurst said.

“And many of us have the direct experience of deceptions wrought by practiced charmers,” Mr Darcy added, a probably safe admission much as he disliked evoking the ghosts of Mr Wickham in any form. Those who did not know the truth could read that statement in other ways.

Mr Rushworth seized upon this, however. “And I have been betrayed by the most skilled deceiver of them all. One vile cur of a man – so outwardly charming to the ladies, and I am at a loss to know how, because he is such a plain, little man, not at all handsome – the cause of all of my grief.”

The others allowed Mr Rushworth the time that they felt he needed to indulge his grievances. Most found their thoughts turning to mistakes of their own. Without confessing these private matters out loud, several of them spoke a few vaguely comforting words to the unhappy man that unavoidable errors of judgment were a part of everybody’s life, and that such things should not cause them to think less of another.

But many were the tumultuous inner thoughts indulged in by the company.

Mr Darcy acknowledged to himself having practiced a concealment more than a year before for motives that he had then misapprehended as sound, and for which he had been amply chastised in Mrs Collins’s front parlour on a memorable April day not many months afterwards.

Mr Bingley’s thoughts were turned towards the same business and he recognized that he had tended to allow himself to be too easily swayed by the persuasions of others. He was improving lately, he told himself, more wishing than actually knowing it to be so, for he had applied to Darcy for estate-related advice often enough during the recent winter’s separation, and had followed all of it nearly to the letter.

Caroline guiltily recalled having misjudged and dismissed from her notice the eldest Bennet sisters on early acquaintance. Jane and Elizabeth were her sisters now, and it behoved her to take Louisa’s excellent example better to heart. She felt that she was working hard to amend her past wrongs, but it was not as easy as she had hoped it to be, and she knew, with no little amount of self-reproach, that once in a while she might yet backslide.

And Elizabeth remembered Hunsford, and forced herself to the penance of recalling how she had hurt, deliberately and cruelly, a man who loved her. That all was now safely in the past, that he had loved her sufficiently to forgive her and accept for himself some of the blame, was of great value in mitigating the pain, and it was not in her nature to dwell on such an unpleasant event for very long. But she never wanted to forget the valuable lessons she had learned after that day, and she did not desire that her close family members should fear a repetition.

Mr Darcy caught the drift of his wife’s thoughts from her expression. Guessing that a certain amount of self-recrimination was going on in the heads of many of their party after Mr Rushworth’s outburst, he stroked her hand comfortingly but discreetly, and cast upon her a concerned look. Further soothing of past memories would necessarily wait until they were alone, but the mere implied promise of such was enough to gladden Elizabeth’s heart considerably.

Caroline could guess from the silence that had fallen over the room that the thoughts of many of the others were bent in similar directions to her own. Still pensive, she indulged in a further bit of serious soul-searching. Was she on the brink of making a new and enormous mistake? She was no stranger to the pursuit, but thus far the prey had never taken the bait. Even though no offer had yet been made, never before had she been so close to the deliberation of one. Marriage was for the remainder of her life. The exceptions to that were rare, and one was in front of her, but that route, fraught with scandal for the woman but not for the man, was not her choice. As had become her usual way when her thoughts were in turmoil, she tried to imagine detailed scenes of her future life with Mr Rushworth – the benefits counterpoised by the man himself – and forced herself again to face the crucial, still unanswered, question: was this what she wanted?

Later, in the privacy of her room, Elizabeth found herself with a great deal to think about after the evening’s recital of Mr Rushworth’s domestic expectations. It was very much a piece of what she had once, herself, thought to be typical of the marriages arranged by the wealthier members of society. A year and a half earlier, she could not have imagined a state of matrimony between herself and Mr Darcy. If she had thought of such a thing at all, it would have been with reference to Miss Bingley, however unlikely the gentleman’s indifference to that lady had always made it appear. Then, she would have expected a slate of specifications from Mr Darcy to be quite similar to, if not even grimmer than, Miss Bingley’s and Mr Rushworth’s ideals.

How dissimilar now was the reality when compared to what she had supposed to be such a situation then. It made her ashamed that she had ever harboured such sweeping generalizations about a man who had turned out to be so extraordinarily different.

She had expected that the wife of a great estate owner such as the proud master of Pemberley would be merely a decoration, someone of high pedigree to preside with elegance and cold formality over fine dinners and stupefying dull evenings in the drawing room, in company chosen more for their connections and acceptability to the ton than their conviviality. Yet William liked the stuffy posturing of pretentious persons no better than she did. He had never been as active in or fond of society as Miss Bingley’s fawning hints had once suggested. Their usual company for visits, when venturing farther than close friends, tended to be interesting, well-read or well-travelled individuals who could enjoy and contribute to lively conversations – people of impeccable character and respectable family, but not necessarily of fashion.

Elizabeth had once imagined that the mistress of the house, when not on social display, should remain content with her own concerns and not trouble the master. There were certain ladylike occupations with which she could fill her days – Miss Bingley had enumerated them during Jane’s illness a year and a half ago with her list of an accomplished woman’s achievements, that she in her conceit had supposed exactly matched the requirements of the object of her pursuit. And again, William had surprised her by caring for none of that, by preferring his wife to remain exactly the same as he had found her: spirited and audacious, an eager reader, a challenging debater, and a lively wit. He wanted no quiet ornament in a wife. He enjoyed being tested in friendly argument, and, increasingly as the months of their new marriage passed, although generally only among immediate family, was even taking pleasure in being teased.

And, her thoughts turning into less proper directions, it was in the matter of the marital duties that Elizabeth was perhaps most surprised and delighted by the difference between her original suppositions and the reality. She had expected that to most highborn gentlemen, duty was all that was required of a wife. Regular joyless conjugal visits, the production of an heir and a spare, and the wife otherwise to be left alone and the pleasures to be sought from a mistress. And to a cold, proud, fastidious man, these carnal affairs might well be considered nothing more than a distasteful necessity. But while William had always been greatly repulsed by the idea of paid or coerced gratification of lusts, inside the sanctity of marriage it was a different matter altogether. She had been charmed by his display of an endearing vulnerability at the beginning of their marriage, by his gentleness and consideration when the experience was still new. But now, with their love ever-increasing and their self-consciousness gone, they shared joys and pleasures the likes of which she could never have imagined.

And as always, and before the attentions of her adoring husband distracted her into their customary pleasurable pursuits, this train of thought ended in her usual mantra. How could I ever have hated him?

Chapter 11

Mr Bingley too optimistically assumed that everybody staying with him at Netherfield would be eager to attend the next Meryton assembly, which was to take place on the Tuesday following Easter.

Mrs Darcy and Miss Bingley both regarded him with dismay and exclaimed, almost simultaneously, “Must we go?” Then, realizing their unexpected accord in the matter, they looked at each other, Elizabeth laughed softly, and Caroline unbent a little, her expression close to a smile.

Mr Bingley interrupted his circuit of the room to stop in front of his sister. “Why ever not?”

“Have you forgotten, Charles, how little we all enjoyed the first such local assembly?” Caroline turned to another member of that original party for support. “An insignificant market town, as you had taken pains to point out to us at the time, Mr Darcy, unlikely to draw any guests of any consequence?”

Mr Darcy, aware that Elizabeth might have her own challenges to issue on that score, replied mildly that Lambton was no more sizeable or important than Meryton.

“But you do not attend public assemblies in Lambton, Mr Darcy.”

“No, we do not.”

Caroline could not decide whether to be relieved at what she took to be a sign of Mr Darcy’s unaltered good taste, or disappointed that her predictions of the dire effects of a country nobody’s preferences had come to naught. But she prudently refrained from showing any spite, and changed tactics slightly. “And although there are, within fifteen miles of Pemberley, a number of families of the highest rank with whom you visit, I would be surprised if any of them were likely to attend the Lambton assemblies.”

Before Mr Darcy could make a reply to that, Mr Bingley broke in, defensively, “There must be a like number of families of consequence within a fifteen mile circle around Meryton.”

“None of whom have recently begun to attend Meryton assemblies, I am certain,” said Caroline dismissively. “Such a tiresome affair, such noise and heat, so much inelegance. You, particularly, Mr Darcy, were very unhappy at being persuaded to attend. Quite out of sorts, I recall.”

Elizabeth watched her husband closely, eyes alight with mischief, curious to see what he would find to say this time about that occasion.

“Yes,” Mr Darcy conceded after a brief pause during which something like chagrin flickered in his eyes, “but I have long realized how greatly I was mistaken in my reluctance and my behaviour at that event.”

Elizabeth remained very pleased with the constancy of the alterations in Mr Darcy, even as she acknowledged her own faults of perception. He always had been fair, honourable and courteous in dealings of business with others, and it was his greater consideration towards those not quite at his level in society whom he met in social situations that had particularly impressed her. He perhaps would never lose completely that air of formality, that slight hauteur – stateliness, Aunt Gardiner had once called it – in his interactions with anybody he did not know well. Still, she perceived great improvement. This assembly at Meryton – should the party attend – would be an interesting test.

Drawing nearer, inclining her head to his ear, Elizabeth whispered softly, “Thank you, my love - I do appreciate your remembering it.”

“How could you say that I did not enjoy that evening, Caroline” Mr Bingley protested, at the same time. “I found the company charming and had a wonderful time. And that was where I first had the pleasure of meeting and dancing with Jane. It is thus most indelibly impressed upon my memory.”

Caroline could think of nothing immediately to counter that remark. She eventually recollected her usual objections to social events in Hertfordshire, and weakly restated a few of her opinions on the deficiencies of public country balls and the unlikelihood of this one being any improvement on the first one.

“You may stay home, then, if you like,” Mr Bingley said, “but I am quite determined to go. These are my neighbours now and I enjoy their company. And what of you, Rushworth? Do you fancy a rustic, but friendly and informal, country assembly?”

Mr Rushworth declared that he liked a ball very well, and hoped that Miss Bingley was not completely resolved to stay away, as he wished to have the first two dances with her. Since Caroline did not want to disappoint her wealthy suitor or leave him unduly exposed to the perils and marital ambitions of the ladies of Meryton, she smiled slightly in acquiescence. It satisfied him.

“That is settled, then.” And as Mr Rushworth began immediately to occupy himself in forming phrases to express his enthusiasm for the first dance to Miss Bingley, Mr Bingley excused himself and walked to the other side of the room where Mr and Mrs Darcy were seated. “And what about you, Lizzy? What explains your reluctance?”

“A particular … personage … is certain to be in attendance. His indefatigable zeal for paying homage to his benefactress could involve the … dubious honour … of a request for a pair of dances from the wife of that most admired lady’s nephew. And this possibility I most assuredly do not welcome.”

“That is easily resolved. Darcy, as a married man you can claim as many sets with your wife as you wish for. Two sets with me, and perhaps another with Hurst or Rushworth … ” Mr Bingley nodded in the direction of the other two gentlemen. “ … should give you enough to fill your dance card. Otherwise, Lizzy, you can be as fatigued as the circumstances dictate.”

“Or we can frighten him off with some nonsense that, since his wife is still recovering and unable to dance herself, it would be highly inappropriate for him to participate in the activities,” Mr Darcy suggested, suspecting that Elizabeth was no more eager for a dance with Mr Rushworth than with Mr Collins. “He is convinced that I speak for her Ladyship, and will be easy to intimidate.”

Elizabeth laughed, enjoying this notion immensely although she was by no means certain that William would actually carry out such a subterfuge. “Oh, yes! One stern glare from you will send him scuttling for the card room straight away. All the young ladies of Meryton will be in your debt.”

“So we are set.” Mr Bingley was cheerfully unswerving in his determination to appear at the assembly in a party of eight.

“Not quite,” Elizabeth said. “What about Georgiana?”

“She is not yet out,” replied Mr Darcy, “and she may not even wish to attend.”

“Out? Nobody in this neighbourhood worries about being out,” Mr Bingley said, before Georgiana had a chance to interpose her own opinions. “I have attended more of these local assemblies than any of you here save Jane and Lizzy, and I am sure some of the young ladies are not yet fifteen.”

Caroline’s attention was drawn for a moment from Mr Rushworth’s monologue about his anticipated delights by her brother’s words. She affected a prim look of disapproval.

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said to Mr Darcy upon catching an impression of something halfway between eagerness and uncertainty in the young girl’s face, “if you are not already completely determined that Georgiana should stay home, we should leave the decision up to her. She need not dance. And if Mrs Collins is not yet well enough to dance, she and Georgiana might be glad of each other’s company.”

“I will consider it.”

“It would be an enjoyable change of scene for both.” In a whisper, she added, “Poor Charlotte, she appreciates all the rational conversation she can get.”

“Yes, provided Mr Collins is not in the habit of constantly hovering about his wife.”

“He will not do that. Charlotte is not Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

Elsewhere in Meryton, mothers and aunts of eligible young ladies were no less busy speculating on the forthcoming assembly. The rumours about Mr Rushworth had not abated in the slightest. Among those who had not already met or received more reliable information on the gentleman, there abounded spectacular stories of a most eligible bachelor, as handsome as Mr Darcy and considerably wealthier, possibly even heir to a title. Even some of those who were less than overwhelmed by the wealthy man’s personality and countenance were awestruck by his income and its possibilities. Not always numerically adept enough to understand percentages and proportions, they knew only that twelve thousand per year was a vastly larger sum than ten thousand, and must provide the fortunate future Mrs Rushworth with immeasurably more carriages, jewellery, rich clothes, and pin money than even their wildest flights of imagination could furnish Mrs Darcy.

“So many unmarried ladies,” Mrs Bennet mourned, upon hearing of several daughters and nieces who had been called home in the days prior to the assembly, and primed for the treat they were to expect.

“Yes, my dear,” Mr Bennet muttered from behind his book. “With no red-coats to balance the numbers, I am afraid it shall be an unprofitable ball.”

“Unprofitable? Mr Rushworth’s twelve thousand pounds makes up for an entire encampment of officers. How can you say such a thing?”

“My dear, although you persist in designing Mr Rushworth for Kitty, she must be prepared to share him with the other ladies.”

“I assure you, Papa, it will be no hardship –”

“Oh, hush, Kitty! I fully intend that you shall have your two sets with Mr Rushworth.”

Mr Bennet turned a page, but did not look up. “Then you must prepare for disappointment, my dear, for Lady Lucas may be forming schemes of her own for her daughter.”

This evoked a few wails, and even the notion that soon dawned upon Mrs Bennet, that Lady Lucas must be equally thwarted by the great number of ladies expected, did not cheer her.

The mistress of Lucas Lodge, however, was far more philosophical. Aware both of Miss Bingley’s interest and of the vast imbalance of ladies and gentlemen, she had sufficient sense to let a plainly hopeless matter drop. Mrs Bennet’s tenaciousness over unpromising notions need not be a source of competition between them; there was, however, a source of merry entertainment to be had from it and Lady Lucas was not above some occasional playful plaguing of her friend.

Mr Collins, meanwhile, was labouring under many silly delusions. He had worked himself into a certainty that all of his Bennet cousins, even the happily married two, would be eager to dance with him. His dear little Pumpkin would surely not deny him the delights of the assembly simply because she must still sit quietly at the side. And although it was a public ball, it would be attended by many worthy and highborn personages, and could be in no way wanting in respectability. Neither Lady Catherine de Bourgh nor his bishop could have objections to his taking part.

Mr Collins briefly pondered Mrs Darcy. As Cousin Eliza, she had graced his request for a dance at the Netherfield ball of a year and a half ago with what he recalled with some embellishment to be smiling consent. The events of the very next day he had banished completely from his mind, but memories of the ball had remained a source of joy. It behoved him to honour his patroness’s niece-in-law and add to his cousin’s happiness with a similar request now, but should he dare? Would the newly exalted Mrs Darcy consent? Respect dictated that the request be made, but he was not certain that his pride could weather a refusal.

Mrs Bennet was scheming from the moment she and her family entered the assembly room. She had contrived to come as early as she could, having spent the past two hours anxiously scolding Kitty to make haste and fussing over her dress – a new one, completed only that week, for it was essential that she appear to all possible advantage.

Sir William Lucas, stationed near the door to greet everybody who came in, welcomed the family from Longbourn with noisy and affable joy. Hearing little of it, Mrs Bennet replied politely, but already she was looking past him, checking the hall for friends and rivals, to determine how she might most advantageously make her circuit of the room.

Mrs Long and her nieces also had arrived previously, and Mrs Bennet was gratified that the young girls in no way put her Kitty in the shade. Rendered gracious by these comparisons, she complimented the nieces with insincere smiles, and proceeded happily to compare the newest speculations concerning Mr Rushworth with her friend.

When the dancing was about to commence, Kitty was asked for the first set by the son of a respectable and very prosperous shopkeeper in Meryton. He was a pleasant, amusing fellow, with whom Kitty had danced before. Ignoring a few ill-concealed frowns from her mother, she accepted happily enough.

“It must be borne, I suppose,” Mrs Bennet hissed fretfully, “for you cannot refuse a dance so early in a ball. But you must set your sights higher, for how shall Mr Rushworth give you any consideration as his life’s partner if you are seen in company with merchants? When Mr Rushworth arrives, you –”

“Mama, I do not care what Mr Rushworth thinks.” Kitty abandoned her mother in mid-remark and took her partner’s arm, for the musicians were taking up their instruments and the line was beginning to form.

Mrs Bennet opened her mouth to scold, but thought better of it. Tactics again firmly in mind, she soon waylaid Lady Lucas, to engage her in conversation so engrossing – she had saved a number of choice morsels of gossip for just this occasion – that Mr Rushworth, who might arrive at any moment, would fail completely to register upon her notice.

While talking, Mrs Bennet’s eyes darted about, and she missed nothing. She watched Mr Collins settle Charlotte comfortably in a quiet place – so that is where Mary got herself off to! As was her habit, Mary had concealed a small book in her reticule. Mrs Bennet sighed. Fordyce, very likely. Immediately afterwards, with deprecating gestures and many imperfectly heard words, the parson secured his first dance partner of the night in the person of a resigned Maria Lucas. It might have satisfied Mrs Bennet more to see this occur later, as a preventative to Mr Rushworth’s paying attentions, but she at least derived some smug pleasure from the sympathetic looks Kitty was casting at Maria every time the movements of the dance made it possible.

Mr Rushworth was pleased with the extraordinary pains Miss Bingley had taken with her toilette, even though these were to make the Netherfield party more than merely fashionably late in arriving at the assembly. Aware in a dim sort of way that she would be competing with all the unmarried misses of Meryton for the attention of a gentleman of twelve thousand pounds a year, he was happy to think that her exertions were for him alone. She wore a beautiful cream gown, trimmed in blue, set off with fine lace; she was adorned with jewellery that compared in no unfavourable way to the treasures of the Rushworth family. Not even Mrs Darcy was so well turned out, Mr Rushworth told himself, with considerable pride in his conquest. Between his own consequence, and the exquisite lady on his arm, heads truly would turn at this country assembly!

They entered the assembly room in a party of nine, Mr and Mrs Bingley leading the way, Mr Rushworth and Miss Bingley immediately behind, the Hursts and Darcys in the rear.

It was between dances; movement and conversation in the room stilled markedly. Mr Rushworth allowed himself to be suffused with the glow of thinking that the collective bated breath was for himself alone – perhaps, admittedly, a portion of it for the vision by his side – but his fame, he knew, had preceded him and probably never had the town received as grand a guest as him at one of their assemblies. Making his stately way with the party into the room, he smiled at everybody and felt important. Miss Bingley, too, was nodding indulgently at acquaintances and strangers alike; his consequence was hers, he told himself, and he could not blame her for revelling in her elevation.

Mr Rushworth recognized the bowing, affable squire who appeared before him as Sir William Lucas, and made to him a pretty speech about how delighted he was to attend this assembly. Sir William received his compliments fulsomely and soon caused him to swell with even more pride by hinting that the master of such a great estate as Sotherton must frequently enjoy the superior society of the court of St James.

Shadowing Sir William, Mr Rushworth was pleased to see, was his new particular friend, Mr Collins, who also heaped upon his head garrulous praise for gifting the assembly with his august presence.

In Mr Rushworth’s consummate happiness, he failed to see the fading of Miss Bingley’s pleasant expression, of a prim set to her lips and a narrowing of her eyes. But a distraction soon followed; the dancers for the next set were taking their positions. Reminded of his lady’s promise of the first dance, he offered her his arm and indicated that they were to join them.

So inflated did the expectations of Mr Rushworth’s person and countenance appear to have become among the good people of Meryton, Elizabeth thought, that the reality must have a disheartening effect on those townspeople whose acquaintance he had yet to make. She could discern among the faces, in the immediate aftermath of the hush that had overtaken the room upon their entrance, traces of disappointment, a few crestfallen expressions, some ears quietly being whispered into. But what had they been led to expect? Another handsome gentleman such as Mr Darcy? That, Elizabeth told herself with a sort of satisfied pride in her own station, was a standard of a most unrealistic sort.

The silence of their arrival soon gave way to an unusually excited buzz of conversation. Even the musicians had taken notice, and were waiting longer than usual before taking up their instruments for the next dance.

Many of the Netherfield party were feeling embarrassment of their own in different degrees over the amount of notice that had attended their entrance. As they made their way to the place where Sir William was holding court, Elizabeth could clearly discern hastily muffled whispers of “Twelve thousand pounds!” in awestruck voices. If anyone attending the assembly was not already well informed of this incalculable fortune, that deficiency was being rectified with alacrity.

Elizabeth noticed also that several of these admirers of Mr Rushworth’s income were directing significant looks in her mother’s way. She suspected that there might be a simmering reservoir of ill feeling among the ladies of Meryton, kept amply replenished by Mrs Bennet’s frequent gloating over her wealthy sons-in-law. Even those amiable matrons who harboured no particular ill feelings probably desired a more equitable sharing out of bragging rights. All must be quite satisfied by the notion that in Mr Rushworth there was an unmarried gentleman of even greater fortune into whom Mrs Bennet was not likely to sink her hooks.

With some discomfort, Elizabeth recalled that at the assembly that had introduced Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy to the town, hers had been one of the eager and curious faces turned toward the door. She would never have thought then that she and Jane might someday belong to a party making such a highly anticipated entrance. It was a very different thing to be experiencing from the other side of the divide, and not entirely a comfortable notion. Although Elizabeth knew well that the dramatic hush upon their arrival had been for Mr Rushworth, even at second hand, it was more distinction than she liked. She recollected with mixed emotions the excited, disbelieving exclamations of the townspeople at that past assembly over Mr Darcy’s ten thousand pounds, and of the admiration he had inspired in so many of them until his ill-humour and silent pride had crushed his incipient popularity.

Today, understanding her husband well, Elizabeth had very good notions of everything that had been wrong on that autumn night. Some of it was forgivable – William still did not take well to being persuaded into attending such events wholly against his inclinations. And the wounds from Ramsgate, while no longer open and raw, were then probably still not so well healed as to not sometimes ache. Some of it, with his newfound awareness of the worth of people, was not likely to be repeated. And some of his displeasure had to be rooted in that crass and impolite tendency of so many to discuss the income of a gentleman unconnected to them as if he were not even present.

This time, Elizabeth noticed with many agreeable feelings, William was determined to present a more affable face to the world, although not without his customary dignity. Safely married, he could no longer be of interest to the local matrons, and his income no longer presented a novelty to the neighbourhood. Elizabeth was confident that in ensuring her enjoyment of the ball, he might himself find pleasure in the event.

First, however, he had a discreet mission to discharge for her peace of mind, and Elizabeth understood why it was that he left her side so soon after they had arrived. Ten minutes afterwards, after casting a few anxious glances around the room, she found to her relief that Mr Collins was nowhere to be seen.

Before participating in any dances themselves, she and William introduced Georgiana to several unthreatening friends and settled her comfortably in the corner with Mary, Charlotte, and two younger Lucas daughters. The others welcomed Georgiana to their circle with pleasant smiles, and she was soon caught up in their conversation. Charlotte could not, and Mary likely would not, dance. With such reliable chaperonage, Elizabeth thought, her new sister would be congenially entertained for the duration of the assembly.

Caroline’s dances with Mr Rushworth were probably as enjoyable as any she had shared with other highborn gentlemen at past balls. He was an acceptably good dancer; her toes were quite safe. And his consequence, so puffed as it was by the reception he had received only moments before, could not help but swell her own. Gratified, she cast a superior smile at everyone who looked her way.

Admittedly, Mr Rushworth’s conversation, as they stood waiting for their turns in the dance to come around, was not particularly witty, but at least he talked to her. With a slightly bitter pang, Caroline recollected that during those infrequent past occasions when she had been partnered with Mr Darcy, he had seldom spoken a word that did not pertain solely to the dance. Perhaps she had appreciated his superior abilities and demeanour more than those of her present partner, but with such cold behaviour as had been his habit, there had not truly been enjoyment.

Thoughts about Colonel Fitzwilliam soon rose unbidden into Caroline’s mind. There had been no chance in his recent brief visit, but she recalled her few sets with him during the time of the weddings with great pleasure. Now there was a man who could provide fascinating talk during a dance! How unfortunate that he had found it necessary to curtail his stay, merely to visit his tiresome aunt.

Caroline was bound by propriety to suffer the loss of her wealthy partner when the set was over, and it was necessary that she resign herself to leaving him unprotected and at the mercy of all the wily misses and mothers of Meryton. It galled her, quite out of proportion to the feelings she was aware of entertaining for the gentleman.

And who was there in attendance, with whom a dance might be tolerable now? The gentlemen at this assembly were greatly outnumbered by the ladies, a fact that was soundly reinforced by several of her overhearings.

“It is so dull, now, without the officers,” Kitty moaned to Maria Lucas, while observing the dance from chairs on the sidelines.

“Yes, I suppose it must be.” More accustomed than Kitty or Lydia had ever been to sitting out dances, Maria was far more philosophical about it. She stated her opinion that she was perfectly content and could pass her time almost as pleasantly in merely watching the dancing couples.

“I cannot understand how you can think that,” Kitty said peevishly. “To sit out dances like an old maid. It is what Mary would do, not me. And just look around you! Not a red coat in sight. So very dreary! I long for the assemblies we had last summer, when the officers were still in town.”

“Yes, we all certainly danced more then,” Maria said placidly.

“Oh, how I envy Lydia – a whole regiment in Newcastle and balls all the time, she writes. And Mr Wickham to attend to her and ensure that she will always have a dance or two with the handsomest officer of them all.”

Caroline grimaced. However much her opinions of Jane and Elizabeth had been undergoing improvement in the past month, that insipid young sister of theirs still could not boast of a respectable bone in her body. Envy the disgraceful Mrs Wickham, indeed! Had the narrow, eleventh-hour escape from ruin of the family taught her nothing whatsoever?

Soon, she had all the dissatisfaction of watching Mr Rushworth approach the two young girls to solicit the next set from Miss Lucas. Kitty, left by herself, wore a very cross expression, and this filled Caroline with unexpected glee. Either the younger Miss Bennet harboured designs of her own for Mr Rushworth and was envious, or she was merely annoyed at having to sit out yet another set. Either way, it satisfied Caroline, frustrated as she was at the lack of appropriate partners and the ironic mortification of being overlooked so often.

Later, she was happier, for Mr Darcy and Mr Hurst asked her for the next two sets. Neither, unsurprisingly, spoke a great deal. But the request from Mr Darcy was to turn out to be especially gratifying, for apart from Elizabeth and one set with Jane, he danced with nobody else for the entire evening.

It prevented Caroline from being overly upset over Mr Rushworth’s subsequent partners, and kept her in a tolerably tranquil mood until it was time for supper.

Mrs Bennet was not satisfied in the slightest with the way events were unfolding, and she indulged her displeasure with anybody who would listen.

Mr Rushworth’s behaviour could not in any way have been more of an affront to Mrs Bennet. He was participating in every dance, much to the delight of the Meryton matrons and young ladies. Between dances, he circulated among the company being agreeable and condescending to all. The ongoing noise of conversation about his exalted prospects tended to let up only when he was near, and resumed instantly even before he was truly out of earshot: such an imposing figure of a man he was, how pleasant were his manners, how very attentive he was to all the young ladies, how delightful was his dancing – and his willingness to stand up in all of the sets, and, of course, how extensive and valuable was his estate. Mrs Bennet heard it all with anger.

And unlike Mr Darcy, whose outraged disdain at the lack of Meryton decorum was still clear in Mrs Bennet’s mind even after a year and a half, even after she had received the satisfaction of claiming him as her son-in-law, Mr Rushworth appeared to be revelling in every bit of the attention being paid to him. For this night, at least, he was the king.

It did not elevate Mrs Bennet’s mood one bit. To have suffered the indignity of watching Maria Lucas, and then all of those other pretentious upstarts, working their wiles on that wealthy and eligible gentleman who by rights should be Kitty’s! Miss Bingley’s claims she conveniently kept out of her thoughts in her vexation. Following Maria’s dance with Mr Rushworth, she was unable to speak a civil word to Lady Lucas for the remainder of the evening, so incensed was she on behalf of poor, slighted Kitty.

During supper, Mr Rushworth was seated with the Bingley party, and Caroline was torn between being gratified at the resumption of his particular attentions to her, and being bored over the paucity of sense and sparkling wit in his conversation. He had become fatigued after his efforts on the dance floor, and what little he did speak of tended to be reiterations of many topics upon which Caroline had already heard far too much.

She sighed deeply, as Mr Rushworth outlined in great detail for the fifth time his schemes for setting in place a new rose garden to the southwest of the great house at Sotherton.

“Yes, Mr Rushworth, all in shades of pink and white – it will be most delightful.”

“Mr Collins assures me that it will indeed be so, and he also suggests a border of forget-me-nots, for a surprising alteration in colour.”

Caroline’s fan came up, and hid a yawn. “Yes, Mr Rushworth.”

Louisa looked at her sharply, but did not state out loud what was so clearly represented on her countenance.

Mr Collins emerged from the card room when supper was announced, and took his seat with the family from Lucas Lodge. He had been missed. Sir William wondered noisily where the parson had been keeping himself, because, given the enormous imbalance in the numbers of ladies and gentlemen at the assembly, any additional partner for all the ladies sitting at the sides would have been most welcome.

“My esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, would not look kindly upon my participation in the enjoyments of this assembly while my dear Charlotte is still recovering after presenting to me that greatest of gifts, my little Catherine.” Mr Collins paused briefly and took a deep breath to fortify himself. “I am deeply grateful to her Ladyship’s most estimable nephew, Mr Darcy, for so thoughtfully alerting me to the dangers of what might otherwise have been a most regrettable breach of the duty which I owe to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

“Yes, of course,” Sir William said distractedly. “Attention to the proprieties – most proper.” Turning shortly afterwards to his daughter, he told her in admiring tones that her husband was so sensitive to the obligations due his benefactress that he had voluntarily withdrawn himself from the festivities in which he normally took such pleasure.

“Why would he do a thing like that?” Charlotte asked. “I have no objections to his dancing, and my own indisposition should not affect his enjoyment of the evening.”

“Mr Darcy spoke to him,” Sir William replied. “And so few gentlemen in the room too, compared to the number of ladies.”

Charlotte thought this business to be singularly peculiar. When at the end of the repast, the renewed circulation of the guests brought Mr Darcy close to where she was seated, she claimed his attention and asked in a low voice why he would tell Mr Collins such a thing about her Ladyship.

“It did not strike me as appropriate for your husband to be dancing while you were unable to participate.” Mr Darcy’s outward dignity concealed some inner guilt. He found himself unable to contrive any way to reveal his true reasons to Mrs Collins without grossly insulting her spouse.

“Oh, nonsense,” said Charlotte, who had never feared Mr Darcy even during the dark days of his early unpopularity in Meryton. “I do not mind it at all if Mr Collins dances, and in fact, before your party arrived, he had enjoyed every single one. And Lady Catherine need never know.”

Mr Darcy grappled with his conscience for a few moments. “You are quite right,” he conceded. “Lady Catherine need not know. Nobody present tonight other than Mr Collins himself would consider the matter of sufficient importance to mention to her Ladyship. I will remove my objections.”

Mr Collins was elated at this news. Happily insensible to the truth of his deficient abilities on the dance floor, he looked forward to dispensing the favour of his hand for a set to as many young ladies as he could manage. He would, in fact, start with his cousin Eliza. She was looking very well this evening as she stood at Mr Darcy’s side, a hand on his arm, listening to every word of the exchange.

Elizabeth, not so comfortable with this development, tightened her hold on her husband’s arm.

Mr Collins finished thanking Mr Darcy garrulously for his graceful condescension in permitting him to partake of the assembly’s delights after all, but before he could open his lips to confer the great honour of a dance with Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s parson, he was stopped cold by a fierce look from Mr Darcy. He cowered fearfully. Darcy in a humour like that could be most formidable, reminiscent of her Ladyship when in a mood, in fact. He retreated with no further ado to bestow his blessings on less exalted ladies.

Elizabeth was relieved to be spared for the rest of the night from a most unappealing possibility. “I thank you for ridding me of a threat, William, but are you not somewhat ashamed of your subterfuge?” She looked into his eyes teasingly. “After all, did you not once tell me that disguise of any sort was abhorrent to you?”

Mr Darcy agreed, a little uncomfortable still because of another well-meant but misfired deception of only a year before. “I have prevaricated most shamefully. But it was with noble intent, to spare you some unpleasant company. If I am never to be allowed to make exceptions to my principles for your sake, you might soon think me remiss in my duties to you as your husband.”

“Since you state it so charmingly, you are forgiven. And now, with harmony nicely restored between us, will you ask me for our second set of dances for the night?” Elizabeth smiled mischievously. “After all, if my silly cousin is overset with an attack of courage, he may make the request of me in spite of your disapproval, and I shall have to refuse, and that will be the end of my pleasures of dancing at this ball.”

“An apt observation. I would not wish to defer our second set until it is too late.”

Elizabeth glanced to her left, and watched Mr Bingley ask Miss Goulding for a set. “Charles has danced every single dance but you have asked only Jane and Miss Bingley besides me. You had better engage me quickly before he comes here to berate you for your nonparticipation, as I recall from another Meryton assembly.”

“You are determined not to let me forget that.”

“Not as long as I can derive some merriment from it. I know well enough that you are no fonder of dancing now than you were then, although I do believe your opinion of me has improved greatly beyond merely tolerable.”

“It has indeed, my dear,” Mr Darcy replied, adding in a lowered voice, “but I fear I shall require the privacy of our rooms to do full justice to my opinions. But for the nonce, Mrs Darcy, would you do me the honour of dancing the next two with me?”

Elizabeth matched his mood. “I accept with pleasure, sir.” Taking his arm, she added, less ceremoniously, “And afterwards, I believe we can both be fatigued and sit out the remainder. We ought to spend some time with Georgiana. I am beginning to think we are both remiss in seeing that she has a pleasant time here tonight.”

Mrs Bennet was fuming all the way back to Longbourn. Kitty had not been asked to dance at all by Mr Rushworth, and that slight, so incontrovertible at the assembly’s close, left her in a sour mood. It had been outside her power to say goodnight to Lady Lucas in any civil manner.

She spent much of the homeward journey berating Kitty over not having made enough of an effort to be charming, of not having put herself forward enough. For, Mrs Bennet went on in a spiteful voice, it was the brazen flirtatiousness of all those other wanton Meryton misses that had made Mr Rushworth notice them at all.

“Oh, who cares about Mr Rushworth, Mama! It was the insufficiency of other agreeable partners that has left me so unsatisfied by the ball.”

“If you had exerted yourself more, Kitty, you would not have wanted for partners. Mr Rushworth would have asked you twice.”

“And to think I agreed to a set with that odious Mr Collins!” Kitty squirmed in disgust over the memory. “His greasy smiles, his moist hands, Lady Catherine this, Lady Catherine that! And for what? I might just as well have refused him; I wish I had refused him. I had only one dance after that, with that stupid Henry Goulding, who has spots, and is a whole year younger than I am!”

“There are more important things to life than dancing,” Mary piped up primly, “and much spiritual improvement to be had from a periodic retreat from the festivities.”

“Oh, who asked you?” Kitty snapped peevishly. “If that is so, you must be the most spiritually exalted creature in all of England.”

“I am so unutterably happy that this is over at last,” Caroline declared upon descending the carriage, once again safe at Netherfield.

Mr Rushworth did not share her view, for he had enjoyed a splendid ball. Enough notice and obeisance had been paid to him to keep him puffed up for weeks. The whispers about his fortune, far from offending him, had caused his chest to swell with pride. His every request for a dance had been greeted with joyful expressions on the young ladies, and contented smiles on the approving mothers behind them. And the final dance of the night, second only to the first in consequence, had been with Miss Bingley, and how better to make the evening complete?

Yes, Mr Rushworth was a very happy man, and he told Caroline so.

“But the noise, the heat, Mr Rushworth! The insipidity of all those people, not a one of fashion among them save for our own party! Surely you are not about to tell me that this was the equal in enjoyment to a ball in town?”

“But seldom have I encountered people so deferential, so awake to the notice that is properly owed to the master of a great estate such as Sotherton. Indeed, Miss Bingley, I enjoyed myself very thoroughly tonight.”

Caroline uncomfortably recollected the many other ladies he had danced with, and scrambled quickly to mention a few dances that she, herself, had liked particularly well.

chapters 1 - 2

chapters 3 - 5

chapters 6 - 8

chapters 9 - 11

chapters 12-14

chapters 15 - 17

chapters 18 - 20

chapters 21 - 23

chapters 24 - 26

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