Most Ardently, Most Unknowingly in Love

Prologue

Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed, Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music-books that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy’s eyes were fixed on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of admiration to so great a man; and yet that he should look at her because he disliked her, was still more strange. She could only imagine, however, at last that she drew his notice because there was something more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, than in any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked him too little to care for his approbation.

After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near Elizabeth, said to her:

Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?

She smiled but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some surprise at her silence.

Oh! said she, I heard you before, but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say ‘Yes,’ that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all--and now despise me if you dare.

Indeed, I do not dare.

Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he should be in some danger.

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 10

Chapter 1

Netherfield Park – October 1811

D earest Lizzy, thank you for coming all this way to take care of me. As much as I did not wish to inconvenience you, I am delighted beyond measure to have you here.

Miss Jane Bennet started sneezing into her crumpled handkerchief. The eldest daughter from the neighboring estate, Longbourn Village, she had accepted an invitation to have tea with the Bingley sisters the day before. When she could resume her speech, she cried, This is mortifying in every possible way!

Miss Elizabeth, the second eldest Bennet daughter, threw a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure she and her sister were truly alone. Having been escorted to Jane’s apartment by Miss Caroline Bingley, a young lady whose tolerance for Elizabeth was severely wanting, Elizabeth did not trust that the young woman would not be lurking just outside the door, trying to listen to whatever she could hear.

Turning her attention back to her sister, Elizabeth said, Now, Jane, surely you cannot be faulted for having fallen ill. No one plans this sort of thing.

No one except our mother. She must be exceedingly proud of herself in having placed Jane in harm’s way like this.

I doubt that my friends will agree with you, Jane cried.

Why would you say such a thing? What have they done? What have they said that would give you cause to believe they blame you for being ill?

No—it is not necessarily what they have said or even how they have behaved toward me in the aftermath of it all. I could not ask for more prodigious care than the Bingley sisters have afforded me.

Then what is the reason for your concern?

"Oh, Lizzy, if you could have seen the looks the two of them exchanged when I was shown into the drawing room drenched from head to toe. They thought I did not see them. Indeed, I pretended I had not, but I know exactly what they were thinking—the same as any sensible person would think—that being, Who would ride such a distance on horseback in the rain?"

Elizabeth could well imagine her sister’s summation of the Bingley sisters’ reaction was correct, having been all too aware of the way they had regarded her when she entered the room earlier with her petticoat six inches deep in mud and her gown that had been let down to hide it not doing its office.

Elizabeth shrugged. Never mind what the two of them think. I am sure Mr. Bingley is delighted to have you here—in fact, I know he is. His good opinion is all that matters, is it not?

If I were not beholden to his sisters for their generous invitation, I might be inclined to agree; however, as I am here at their behest and not their brother’s, then I must surely give the greater share of attention to their sentiments.

Whatever were Elizabeth’s sentiments on that score, she chose to keep to herself. Her primary concern was her sister’s well-being, and she could not argue that the Bingley sisters had always been nothing but gracious where Jane was concerned. But how could they be otherwise? Jane’s view of the world was that everyone was good and kind. Of course, she would be worried that she was imposing on the Bingleys by arriving on their doorstep in poor health.

As Elizabeth’s mother had stated, one does not die from a trifling cold. But as her mother had been the one to set this scheme in motion, Elizabeth was not inclined to give her credit for this sentiment. She only wished that Jane would soon be well enough to return home.

If Elizabeth had her way, she would have avoided the Netherfield party in its entirety. Upon receiving Jane’s missive the first thing that morning, she had meant to remain at Netherfield for a few hours at best. Hopefully, she would find Jane’s health significantly improved and could later return to Longbourn with a report to that effect.

Alas, such a quick escape was not to be. Instead, Elizabeth promised her elder sister that she would remain with her at Netherfield until Jane was well enough to return to Longbourn.

At half-past six, Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. There she sat in the dining room with some of the last people in the world with whom she would wish to dine. The amiable Mr. Charles Bingley, the young man at the heart of Elizabeth’s matchmaking mama’s scheme, she excused from such an unenviable distinction.

Elizabeth liked Mr. Bingley very much, and although her first inclination was to see her dearest sister Jane united with such a man, she was not nearly so blatant as her mother.

Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance and easy, unaffected manners. Acquaintances of short duration, Elizabeth surmised Mr. Bingley was extremely outgoing—an amiable young man who, knowing no strangers, was able to embark upon a conversation with anyone, anywhere.

She supposed he was always seeking out new and exciting adventures, which likely resulted in his hasty decision to let Netherfield Park. It had been said that he took the place within a quarter-hour of seeing it.

If Elizabeth suffered any uneasiness where the gentleman was concerned, it regarded his constancy. What if Mr. Bingley is the sort of man who falls in love at the drop of a hat? What if he falls out of love just as quickly? Of course, Mr. Bingley would be a fool not to fall in love with my Jane. Something tells me the young man is nobody’s fool.

Elizabeth would not have been anywhere nearly so miserable as she was if the other two gentlemen in her party were half as amiable as Mr. Bingley. While Bingley’s brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, did little to inspire any real emotion in Elizabeth, the same could not be said of Bingley’s friend Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy made arrogance and conceit an art form. From almost the first moment Elizabeth laid eyes on the gentleman, his character was defined. True, he was tall and handsome and comported himself with a noble gentleman’s air, but that was hardly an excuse for the incivility that marked his introduction in the local society. Having overheard him describe her as barely tolerable and not handsome enough to tempt him had given Elizabeth what she relished as a reprieve from his further notice.

Except that no such reprieve ever manifested itself.

Mr. Darcy is always looking at me. And he is just bold enough not to look away even when I catch him staring. What on earth is he about?

His principal purpose had been to find fault in her, or so she told herself. Perhaps he had detected more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form or some other trait deemed a prerequisite among young ladies in the fashionable world. However, the more they were thrown into each other’s path the less her earliest supposition held sway. He had gone from observing her in silence to engaging her in debate—often heated at that.

Her courage always rose at every attempt to intimidate her, and Elizabeth was sure Mr. Darcy meant to test her every time the two of them spoke.

When dinner was over, Elizabeth returned directly to Jane, who was sleeping soundly. Now alone in her room and preparing herself for bed, Elizabeth sighed. Thoughts of Mr. Darcy’s odd behavior would not be repressed.

If she tried to dissect every look and every word she had exchanged with Mr. Darcy, she would be up all night. Still, some reflection on the events of the evening must be had.

Elizabeth always fancied herself an excellent studier of people and rarely had her talent been on such heightened display as it was that evening with the Netherfield party.

For all intents and purposes, Miss Caroline Bingley was the embodiment of all that was deemed most admirable in the society in which she was raised. Educated in the best private seminaries her family’s fortune allowed, she had long forgotten the source of said fortune, or so it would seem. She thought meanly of those whom she deemed beneath her in circumstances. Caroline was far too aware of her circumstances not to strive for even more money and status; it was a particular predilection of hers to dismiss anyone who posed a threat to her desire to make an extraordinary match with the young master of Pemberley in Derbyshire, Mr. Darcy.

For young ladies of her ilk, appearance as well as accomplishments were everything. Thus she excelled in every way a proper young woman ought to. She prided herself in having a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages. Why, she even boasted of being well read, an assertion that bore absolutely no truth so far as Elizabeth was concerned.

In so many ways, she was everything that Elizabeth was not, and despite her advantages, she barely tolerated Elizabeth. The latter did not have to search her mind for very long to ascertain the reason for the former’s ill opinion of her. For whatever reason, Miss Bingley likened Elizabeth to a contender for Mr. Darcy’s attention. Why else was she always putting herself forth as a third in what Mr. Darcy intended as a conversation for two with Elizabeth?

On the other hand, Miss Bingley does like to be the center of attention whenever she can help it. Which poses a more significant question: why is Mr. Darcy always trying to engage in conversation with me at all?

Thoughts of one of the Bingley sisters could not help but encourage thoughts of the other to intrude. Mrs. Louisa Hurst’s character was not as easily discerned as was her sister’s. Louisa varied from being sincere one minute to insincere the next. Elizabeth impugned a similar dichotomy to the lady’s temperament: self-assured one moment and insecure the next, as though she was deferring how she ought to think and how she ought to feel to the will of others.

What a pair the two of them were: Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. They complemented each other and not in a good way, in much the same manner as Elizabeth’s youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia, complemented each other. Between the former pair, Miss Bingley was by far the more awful of the two. Elizabeth was sure that if she had met the older sister outside the company of the younger, she would tolerate her particularly well. So long as they were a pair, Elizabeth wanted nothing to do with the Bingley sisters, and she could hardly wait to be away from Netherfield.

Chapter 2

Although Jane was sure she had imposed on their generous hospitality long enough, especially with her falling ill on the heels of her arrival, her new friends, the Bingley sisters, were ever so cordial toward her, as well as accommodating. On that particular evening, the ladies were visiting Jane in her room. Their reasoning had been that so long as Jane could not come to them, they would gladly go to her.

When it was mentioned that the gentlemen were once again dining with the officers, Miss Bingley expressed her doubts. I suspect that gambling, drinking port, and smoking cigars are truly the order of the evening.

Mrs. Hurst nodded her head. Of that there can be no doubt, but you know our brother, Charles. He is always just as eager to part with his money as he is to give away his heart. I declare I have never met another young man who is always falling in love wherever he goes.

Jane could only wonder if her friend’s assertion was meant for her. She was silent.

The younger sister said, Oh! You will get no argument from me on that score. One would think our dear brother would follow Mr. Darcy’s lead. He never allows his head to be turned. Here she smirked. Not even by a pair of fine eyes, she concluded. Placing her hand on Jane’s, she said, My brother likes you, but I would not read too much into his affections if I were you. Charles is of an age where his acquaintances are always increasing. He is always falling in love with one young lady or another, but I can say with certainty that his constancy is just as lasting as a drop of rain. I suspect there is but one young lady of his acquaintance capable of garnering truly lasting regard in my brother’s eyes.

It is a good thing Miss Darcy is as constant as she is, else my brother might be in grave danger of losing her heart, said Mrs. Hurst.

Here, Jane could no longer hold her tongue. Miss Darcy?

The elder sister nodded. Yes, Miss Georgiana Darcy. I really do not think she has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments, and the affection she inspires in my sister and me is heightened into something still more interesting. Whenever we are all together, either at Pemberley or in London, it is all our brother can do not to admire her. We can scarcely wait until we can call her our sister.

As this was Mrs. Hurst speaking and not Miss Bingley, who was wont to embellish, Jane could not help but feel ill.

This the younger woman detected. Dearest Miss Bennet, you look ill. I hope it is not because of what we are discussing. We were both of the opinion you knew that Miss Darcy and Charles are destined to be married.

She reached for the glass of water on Jane’s bedside table, no doubt intending to offer it to her guest, but Jane declined the gesture with a slight wave of her hand.

Miss Bingley continued, Why! It is the favorite wish of both our families! Everyone who knows us knows it to be true. She looked at her sister. Is that not correct, Louisa?

It is indeed, Mrs. Hurst replied, standing. But perhaps we should not have said a word. Poor, Miss Bennet, you really do look ill. She turned to her sister. Come, Caroline, let us leave our guest to rest. I fear we have prevailed on her long enough.

Caroline Bingley stood. Of course! Pray accept our apologies if we caused you any distress, my dearest Miss Bennet. I assure you it was unconsciously done. Oh! Do get some rest. I am sure you will feel much better tomorrow.

After furtive glances on both their parts, the Bingley sisters took their leave.

For the first time in her life, Jane was almost tempted to think meanly of someone. Such a sentiment was fleeting, however, for why would Mr. Bingley’s sisters wish to injure her with speculation and innuendo? No—if both sisters agreed that an alliance between their brother and Miss Darcy was destined, then surely it must be more than wishful thinking. Surely it must be true.

Oh, why on earth did I allow myself to be cast into such a situation as this? A young woman from a small country estate entailed away from the female line and from a family with no fortune and no connections dare not stand a chance against the likes of Miss Darcy.

Jane buried her head beneath the covers. I do not know that I have been so embarrassed in all my life.

The notion that she had somehow been complicit in her mother’s matchmaking scheme could not help but bolster her self-recriminations. Lizzy would never have allowed Mama to send her on such a foolish endeavor. Nor would Miss Georgiana Darcy behave so recklessly, I am sure.

Jane fought the urge to cry, for she was sure she was half in love with Mr. Bingley already.

It had been years since she had allowed herself to entertain such fanciful notions—not since the young man from town had shown more than a passing interest in her. He even wrote her a nice poem.

In truth, Jane could barely recall the amiable young man’s name. She surely had no recollection of how he looked. But as for his poem—those words she would never forget:

What more does the heart of mortal man desire?

But to admire. But to yearn.

But to love and to be loved in return.

Alas, nothing came of it. Before that, Jane and her sister Elizabeth had sworn to each other that only the deepest love would tempt them to marry. Such sentiments she had long since buried