Elizabeth Bennet closed the door to the room she shared with her sister Jane. Their younger sisters, Lydia and Kitty, were in the hallway arguing about the soldiers in Meryton. They had already become far too involved with the young officers in Elizabeth’s opinion, but her parents did little to prevent such foolishness.
Their middle sister, Mary, was practicing on the piano forte very loudly in the small sitting room across the hall. She cared as little for the arguments of her younger sisters as did Elizabeth.
“Mr. Bingley is in Papa's study, Jane! Did you know he might come today?”
Jane leapt from the bench before their dressing table, the brush she held flying from her hand to land with a clatter against the small fireplace hearth. “Mama did not come to tell me!”
Elizabeth bent to retrieve the brush. “Mama does not know because she left to pay a call on Lady Lucas before he arrived. I met him at the door coming home from my walk.”
Jane paced the room. “Do you think he may ask Papa for my hand?”
“He must. I cannot think he is discussing crops. Mr. Bingley has been our neighbor for some months and has only shown an interest in knowing you better in all that time.” Elizabeth placed the brush on the dressing table and turned to take Jane's hand.
“Come dear, you must await him in the parlor. He will want to make his plea to you after Father gives his blessing.”
Jane touched her hair but Elizabeth moved to the dressing table behind her. Using the pins spread out across the table, she began to repair her sister's hair. “There, that should do quite nicely. Come along.”
The sisters rushed downstairs giggling and gossiping as they went. The wait for Mr. Bingley would not be long.
When he came into the room with their father, Elizabeth hugged her sister and quit the room with Mr. Bennet. She lingered at the doorway and glanced over her shoulder to see Mr. Bingley take her sister’s hand.
She thought how lovely it might be to have a man propose to her. But not just any man, for she would not marry for any reason but love. Even Lieutenant Wickham, the handsome officer who now paid far too much attention to her sister Lydia, had courted Elizabeth at one time. She had found him too eager to give his attentions to other young ladies. Miss King was said to be the one he would finally wed with all her wealth.
Mr. Bennet led Elizabeth to his study and took the seat behind his desk. He began to speak as she chose a book from her favorites on his shelves. “Mr. Bingley made mention of Mr. Darcy. He is to come from London for the wedding along with Mr. Bingley’s sisters. What do you think of that, Lizzy?”
Absently, while turning the pages of the book, Elizabeth answered. “I was relieved when he left for London earlier this month. I assume he would return for his friend’s wedding.”
Mr. Bennet watched his favorite daughter settle into the seat before him, her eyes still on her book. “You do not care for the man, is that what you mean?”
Elizabeth looked up, her brows knitted. “I find him most proud. He has been alternately silent and brooding with small moments of cordiality mixed in. Such behavior has thoroughly confused many of his acquaintance here in Hertfordshire.”
Mr. Bennet pressed on. “But I saw you dance with him at the party at Lucas Lodge and again at the Netherfield Ball. When you and Jane returned home from her stay with the Bingleys after falling ill, you seemed as distracted as your younger sisters. When he would come with Mr. Bingley to call on Jane, I saw you walk in the gardens with him. I have seen you laugh with him a time or two as well.”
“Papa, what is the point of this jaunt down memory lane? I have tried to be civil to the man and though I did enjoy conversations with him, I only walked in the gardens with him behind Jane and Mr. Bingley as chaperones. I danced with him at the Netherfield Ball was to avoid dancing with my cousin, Mr. Collins.” Elizabeth looked at her father as she spoke and wondered at his expression. He seemed not to believe her protestations.
“Be that as it may, you must not be so stubborn if the man favors you when he returns to Hertfordshire. It would be a boon to your mother were another daughter to wed before the new year and to such a wealthy gentleman. I believe she might forgive Jane in time for only securing the second wealthiest suitor in Hertfordshire.”
Elizabeth would have laughed at his tease, but she was at a loss for words. Why would her father think Mr. Darcy might favor her company or wish to marry her? She held her book against her chest. “A gentleman such as Mr. Darcy must surely have his choice of ladies in London. I imagine many would be most happy to have an offer of marriage from the master of Pemberley.”
Mr. Bennet touched the side of his nose. “I am certain they would, my dear. As for you, how happy would you be should the man come to this study and seek permission to marry you?”
Her father could not speak more plainly. Elizabeth began to wonder if Mr. Bingley had given her father hints as to Mr. Darcy’s feelings. The very idea frightened her. Mrs. Bennet would never allow her to refuse a man with ten thousand a year the way she had refused Mr. Collins out of hand.
“I should think he had lost his mind and that I had as well to consider such a thing. I wish to love the man I marry, Papa, as you are aware. I do not think I could love Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Bennet laughed. “A man with his wealth could earn your love, Lizzy. Do not act in haste. Love can grow from dislike and it is ever more exciting when it does. The courtship of Mr. Bingley and your sister followed the usual course of romance, but mind my words, love may catch you unaware.”
Elizabeth quit her father’s study with much confusion in her heart. Mr. Darcy had been the most confounding man of her acquaintance and she did not believe she felt much more for him than a bit of admiration and that was only because of the stories the Bingley sisters had told of his love for his sister.
Upon their first meeting at the Assembly in Meryton, he insulted her by saying she was not handsome enough to tempt him. Not many days later at the Lucas party, he had asked her to dance. Her friend, Charlotte Lucas, teased her over how closely Mr. Darcy watched her as they moved about the room.
Then, when Jane had fallen ill at Netherfield Park, he seemed much more cordial, even friendly. He sat with her in the library on two occasions reading silently. They had not exchanged a word in either of those hours but Elizabeth had felt at ease in his presence. He had defended her when the Bingley sisters sent barbed remarks her way at dinner and afterwards, in the salon.
Mr. Collins, their parson cousin from Kent, had come after she and Jane returned home from Netherfield and offered for Elizabeth’s hand. Of course, she had refused him for she could never love such a silly man. He spoke only of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in Kent and her excellence. It had been all Elizabeth could do not to throttle him at the dinner table each evening that he had remained as their guest.
Her father had not pressed her to accept his offer though an entailment on Longbourn meant Mr. Collins would inherit their home in the event of her father’s death. They had been certain then that Mr. Bingley would ask for Jane. But the thought of dancing with the foolish parson had caused her to dance with Mr. Darcy to avoid him.
Elizabeth could not think of Mr. Darcy as her husband, but he had become more likable in those moments and she supposed people had married with much less affection between them.
Her best friend Charlotte Lucas was just such an example. Mr. Collins had quit Longbourn in righteous anger after Elizabeth’s refusal and gone to Lucas Lodge. Three days later, he and Charlotte were engaged and then married a fortnight later.
She sighed and went to see whether Mr. Bingley still sat with Jane in the parlor.
When Mrs. Bennet arrived at Longbourn, Mr. Bingley had gone but her five daughters were all in the parlor. The excitement of their voices and their laughter drew her quickly in and she smiled as she entered the room. “Ladies, what has happened to delight you all so completely? Is there to be another ball at Netherfield?”
Elizabeth looked to Jane. “There is to be a wedding at Netherfield Park, Mama.”
Mrs. Bennet’s voice as it rang out in the parlor caused Elizabeth to cover her ears. Their mother rushed to Jane and took her hands. “Oh my dearest, most beautiful girl! I knew it! I told Mr. Bennet he would ask for you that night after the Assembly. Perhaps he may listen to me in the future.”
Elizabeth doubted her father would ever listen to her mother, but she did not wish to cast a shadow over Jane’s happiest moment. Instead, she called for Hill to bring them tea; a very special one with all the best treats, so that they might speak of Jane’s coming wedding.