As Elizabeth and Jane turned away from their sisters in the direction of Netherfield Park, Elizabeth could not help but notice the lightness in Mr. Collins’ steps, as though a weight had been lifted from the clergyman’s shoulders. She shook her head and clasped her hands behind her back, keeping her stride long and determined as she and Jane set off upon the road. They were greeted by those they passed in quite a different manner than Elizabeth had been used to.
Lady Lucas had certainly done her work, Elizabeth thought as another stranger called out, “Good afternoon, Mr. Roberts!” All she could do was incline her head graciously, or touch the brim of her hat in a cordial fashion. Going about in public was a dangerous test, but a necessary one. Lady Lucas’ assistance to spread gossip if she did not play her part convincingly, even in passing.
Once she and Jane were well on their way to Netherfield Park and suitably alone, Jane clutched her sister’s gloved hand in her own.
“Oh, Lizzie, I am a bundle of frayed nerves. Look how my hands shake!” Jane cried. Elizabeth laughed, more from relief at finally being able to talk to ger sister privately.
“You have played your role in this fiction so well,” Elizabeth said, squeezing Jane’s hand tightly. “Were it not for you, Mr. Roberts would have failed before he had even begun.”
Jane smiled sadly. “If Papa could have seen you like this...”
“If Papa had seen me like this, I would have been locked away in an attic room never to be seen again,” Elizabeth scoffed. But Jane was not in a laughing mood.
“You look like the son he always wanted,” Jane said, her eyes filling with tears. “I could see it in Mama’s face, though she did not say it aloud. I can only imagine what pain this while enterprise has brought her.”
Elizabeth looked down at the polished toes of her Hessian boots and kicked at a clump of grass. How this fiction would affect their mother had not been taken into consideration, and Elizabeth felt the briefest stab of guilt at forgetting her.
“I do regret any pain she might be feeling,” she said after a moment. “But it is the work of an eldest son that I must undertake, and since there are none to take Papa’s place, I must step in to do what I can to safeguard our family. Mama will forgive me for this when the papers are signed and Longbourn is ours.” Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s fingers once more before releasing them.
At the crest of the hill they looked down upon Netherfield Park. When compared to Longbourn is was a dreadfully modern sort of confection, and Elizabeth wondered at the fact that she and Jane had never explored the grounds of the estate on one of their many walks, especially as it was so close to their own home.
“Mr. Collins told me that you took ill while I was away,” Elizabeth said briskly. “Why did you not write to me?”
“I did not want you to worry,” Jane replied. “I was very well taken care of, and Mr. Bingley and his sisters were very kind to me.”
“So Mr. Collins informed me, and Mr. Bingley came to visit to enquire after your health as well?”
Jane did not reply, but her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, confirming what Elizabeth already knew.
Elizabeth smiled. “Though you shall soon be Mrs. Bingley, if Mama is to be believed, it may take many years for one such as myself to find a gentleman brave enough to make a match of me, and perhaps longer to find such a soul for poor Mary. Besides... I find that I am growing quite fond of wearing breeches and waistcoats.” Jane laughed brightly to hear such foolish words, but Elizabeth was determined to keep from laughing. “I daresay it is a rare treat to be comfortable on a winter’s day...” she said with a wink.
Bundled in several layers of linen, wool stockings and a fur-lined coat, Jane huffed a foggy breath into the crisp afternoon air. “I shall be grateful when this is all over and we may go back to our normal lives,” she said stiffly. Elizabeth finally allowed herself to laugh and set off down the path towards Netherfield Park.
“Come, Jane. Mr. Bingley is expecting us, and I daresay there will be a warm fire and perhaps even a little glass of hot cider awaiting us.” Jane did not reply, but Elizabeth could hear her boots crunching over the hard ground as she hurried to keep up.
Netherfield Park’s front doors were grand, larger than anything Elizabeth had seen before. “Do not be intimidated,” Jane whispered, as though she were able to hear her sister’s panicked thoughts.
“Is the estate greater than the man?” she murmured in reply. Jane’s blush added to the pinkness of her cold cheeks. Elizabeth smiled quickly, knowing at once what her sister was thinking.
They did not have long to wait, thankfully, as the door opened to reveal not a butler or footman, but from Jane’s reaction none other than Mr. Bingley himself.
“You must excuse me,” he said breathlessly. “I have allowed Mr. Lyons the day off and am ‘testing out my other skills’ as Caroline says.” Mr. Bingey’s smile was bright and eager, and his clear blue eyes twinkled with merriment. Elizabeth decided that she liked him at once. “Mr. Roberts. Miss Bennet. You are most welcome to Netherfield Park.”
The door opened wide and Elizabeth and Jane stepped over the threshold and into the grandeur of the house. Jane may have visited Netherfield Park, but Elizabeth had never seen such a grand house, and it was difficult for her to keep her expression neutral when all she wanted to do was exclaim over every inch of the estate.
Mr. Roberts, however, greeted Mr. Bingley with a bow and a firm handshake, saying nothing about the beauty of the furnishings or the softness of the carpets. No doubt, he had heard every compliment several times already since his arrival in Hertfordshire.
“Mr. Roberts, may I offer my condolences on the loss of your uncle,” Mr. Bingey said. “Caroline also tells me that you have recently lost your mother as well... I cannot imagine how difficult a time this must be for you.”
“I thank you, Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth replied. “Miss Bingley is correct, my own mother died not two months ago. I am grateful to be amidst the comfort of family.” Lady Lucas had done her job a little too well, it seemed that more of the fiction that had been concocted for Mr. Roberts had been circulated than expected.
“Of course,” Mr. Bingley said kindly before turning his attention to Jane. “And Miss Bennet, how glad I am to see you looking so well. But you must both be chilled to the bone, please, do follow me to the drawing room. The fire is warm and I daresay we will be able to ring for tea in just a moment.”
Jane thanked him and Elizabeth merely inclined her head in response as Mr. Bingley led them down the wide hallway.
As Elizabeth had expected, the drawing room was large and richly furnished with overstuffed chairs and couches. Thick curtains kept out the chill and a fire crackled merrily in the hearth. Two finely dressed women sat at a polished wooden table playing cards, and they looked up as Mr. Bingley entered the room.
“Dear, Jane!” one of them cried, rising from the table. “We have been so longing to see you, have we not, Louisa?”
Elizabeth clasped her hands behind her back and waited, but it did not take long for Caroline Bingley to set eyes upon the stranger in their midst.
“Charles, is this not the famous Mr. Roberts?” she said, coming over to where Elizabeth stood. “We have heard so much about you, I was beginning to wonder if you were real at all!”
“Very real indeed,” Elizabeth replied, bowing shortly in her direction.
“Mr. Roberts, allow me to present my sisters,” Mr. Bingey said quickly. “Caroline, and Louisa... my brother in law, Mr. Hurst, has ridden into town on an errand and Mr. Darcy should be joining us presently.”
“Really, Charles, what is Mr. Darcy’s excuse for being tardy?”
“I was writing to my own sister, if you must know,” said a voice from behind them. Elizabeth turned to see a tall gentleman in a finely tailored coat enter the room. He was handsome, to be sure, but his eyes were dark and intense where Mr. Bingley’s were bright and eager. The two gentlemen could not have been more different. Mr. Bingley was fair and seemed almost boyish standing next to Mr. Darcy, and while Elizabeth’s first impression of Mr. Bingley had been an entirely warm one, she was not sure of how she felt about Mr. Darcy.
Perhaps it was that her first introduction to him had been through Jane’s letters regarding his behavior at the Meryton assembly, but could see the aloofness in his manner in an instant.
“Mr. Roberts,” he said briskly, “you are very welcome. We have indeed heard much about you.”
“Newly arrived from the Colonies,” Caroline interjected, settling herself at the card table once more and pulling out a seat for Jane. “Such a savage place, it is a wonder that anyone could survive it.”
“It is, indeed, a difficult place,” Elizabeth said, grateful that she had been able to take her father’s book on the Canadas from his library. “A place for determined men... and women.”
“Quite so, quite so,” Mr. Bingley said. “Well, we are very pleased that you have come to Hertfordshire to take your rightful place at the head of your family.”
“We were under the impression that Mr. Collins would be accepting that honor,” Mr. Darcy said thoughtfully. Elizabeth recalled that Mr. Collins had mentioned that Mr. Darcy was nephew to Lady Catherine.
“Yes, it was a great surprise to all involved,” Elizabeth said, keeping her voice even. “Had I not found my uncle’s letter amongst my late mother’s belongings, it would have remained so.”
“A lucky chance, indeed!” Mr. Bingley cried, pulling a cord to ring for tea. Elizabeth nodded but did not reply. Jane had been dealt into the card game, but glanced over every so often to make sure that Elizabeth was not floundering.
She could feel Mr. Darcy’s eyes upon her as she moved towards the fireplace, but Elizabeth kept her back straight and her eyes upon the flames. “Will you settle at Longbourn, Mr. Roberts?” Mr. Darcy asked, seating himself on a couch near the fire.
“That is my intention, yes,” Elizabeth replied.
Mr. Darcy nodded gravely. “I firmly believe that a man should have an estate to truly appreciate the gravity of his position as the head of a family. To care for one’s tenants and property is a rewarding pastime. I have said it so often to Bingley that he has finally taken my advice.”
“Darcy will take credit for every idea if he could. Yes, I have listened to you talk of Pemberley often enough over the years that I thought I should experience it for myself. A house in the country, what could be more gentlemanly?” Mr. Bingley smiled widely and Elizabeth could not help the smile that crossed her own face.
“But did you have to choose a countryside that was so lacking in proper society?” Caroline interrupted crisply. “I should think that Mr. Roberts will be most overwhelmed by it. I would be very surprised to hear that the Colonies have any society at all...”
“Indeed, not,” Elizabeth said shortly.
“Mr. Roberts, you must indulge me,” Mr. Bingley said, coming towards the fire as two maids bearing tea trays entered the room. “I am told that there is marvelous shooting to be had in these woods, and my gamekeeper is one of the best, but I am sorely out of practice and so is Darcy, though he claims otherwise... you must come shooting with us.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. “I confess, Mr. Bingley, I am a very poor marksman.”
“Odd,” Caroline remarked. “I should think that being able to shoot a rifle would be a highly sought after skill in those wild countries across the sea.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth replied, slightly embarrassed at being caught out. “I have been lucky enough to have guides who were far better than I. Practical skills such as that are in high demand in the Colonies. I am much more comfortable on horseback than crawling through the underbrush.” Mr. Bingley was still waiting for his answer and Elizabeth took a breath before replying, “I shall think on it, Mr. Bingley, but if we are not in a hurry to return to Longbourn, I should be happy to join your shooting party.” She looked to Jane for confirmation, and was slightly distressed to see her sister shake her head.
“Then it is settled!” Mr. Bingley said happily. “We shall, all three of us, be poor marksmen together.”
Elizabeth tried to gather her courage and smile, but her resolve was tremulous. It was one thing to lie about gentlemanly pursuits such as riding and shooting... but to be called upon to display such skills was an entirely different affair altogether. At the very least, she would have to try, and hope that the rifle she was given was not too heavy.
Leaving Jane with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, Elizabeth followed Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy to the gamekeeper’s house. According to Mr. Bingley’s continued narrative, Mr. Grace had been gamekeeper at Netherfield Park for the past decade or more, and he knew the grounds intimately.
The gamekeeper was prepared for them, and Elizabeth wondered if Mr. Bingley had prepared this outing upon receiving her letter. Would he have invited Mr. Collins shooting? She suspected not.
Mr. Grace fitted them all with rifles, and Elizabeth was grateful that she could lift it without too much trouble, but she did not know how long she would be able to maintain enough height to get a proper shot fired.
She had never fired a rifle, and Mr. Bennet was not a hunter, so she had precious little experience with weapons. Mr. Roberts was far more adventurous than Elizabeth would ever be herself.
The party set off with Mr. Grace and the spaniels in the lead, and a young boy following behind with extra shot. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were each bestowed with long strides, and Elizabeth found herself working hard to keep up. Thankfully, the gentlemen had not noticed her struggles, and she was grateful when they paused for Mr. Grace to set the spaniels off in search of pheasants to flush from their ground roosts.
“... I say again, Charles, you cannot be sure of the young lady’s affections,” Mr. Darcy was saying as she approached. Mr. Bingley looked pained and shook his head.
“I do not agree. I am... I am almost entirely sure.”
“But you do harbor some doubt...”
“I would be a fool not to,” Mr. Bingley said hotly. “It is not for you to decide— ah, Mr. Roberts.” Mr. Bingley seemed happy to take his focus off of the disagreement he was having with Mr. Darcy. “You see, Mr. Gracy has set the spaniels off, they will flush out the birds in no time. We may yet have pheasant for supper, and then you shall have to stay on.”
Elizabeth allowed herself to smile and looked in the direction Mr. Bingley was pointing. Sure enough, Mr. Grace was striking the brush with his walking stick and the dogs were hard at work rooting through the underbrush. It would not be long now, and then she would have to shoot.
“Here now, sir, shant be a moment!” Mr. Grace’s shout was jovial. One of the spaniel’s barked and took off through the dry bush.
Mr. Darcy’s jaw tightened, and he raised his rifle to his shoulder, prepared to shoot when the moment arose. Mr. Bingley took up a position a few steps away, making room for Elizabeth.
“Perhaps Mr. Roberts would be so kind as to shed some light on the situation,” Mr. Bingley said.
“Light, sir?” she replied, surprised to be singled out.
“Yes, indeed, perhaps Mr. Roberts would have some insight. Mr. Bingley is concerned that your cousin does not care for him...” Mr. Darcy said dryly.
“I am not concerned,” Mr. Bingley said sharply. “I am merely curious as to whether I should pursue any—“
“Here they come, sir!” Mr. Grace’s shout interrupted them.
They stood silent for a moment, their breath fogging in the chill air. All at once, a spaniel dashed through the trees and leapt into the brush. Two pheasants exploded upwards, their wings whistling and beating a sharp tattoo as they flew low.
Mr. Darcy’s gun went off first, the sound of the shot echoing and making her ears ring. He shouted for another weapon and the boy scrambled forward. Mr. Bingley shot and missed, and Elizabeth closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger, wincing as the rifle jumped in her hands and slammed into her shoulder.
“Well done, sir!” Mr. Grace’s shout made Elizabeth open her eyes and the boy pulled the rifle out of her hands.
“Are you quite all right, Mr. Roberts?” Mr. Darcy asked, looking at her strangely.
“Yes. Yes, of course. Just some smoke in my eyes, it is nothing.” She blinked quickly, as though to clear them. Mr. Darcy nodded but said nothing.
Mr. Bingley’s hand clapped down on her shoulder. “Well done, Mr. Roberts. We shall have pheasant for supper after all.”
Elizabeth smiled in surprise. She had done it after all without even meaning to. Jane would never believe it.
They stayed out until the sun was beginning to ride low in the sky. The boy had run back to the house with their birds and as the gentlemen followed Mr. Grace back to the gamekeeper’s cabin, Mr. Bingley fell into step beside Elizabeth.
“Well, Mr. Roberts... do you have an answer to my question?” he asked quietly, obviously hoping to keep his eagerness for an answer from Mr. Darcy’s ears.
“Though I do not know my cousin well, Mr. Bingley. I can assure you that in her letters to me you were mentioned most fondly, and I have heard nothing but good things said about you around the supper table. Cousin Jane has told me that her father, my uncle, also held you in high regard.”
“Ah yes, poor Mr. Bennet was too ill to come to Netherfield Park in September. We exchanged several cordial letters, and I was very sorry to hear of his passing.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I do not believe that you need be worried about my cousin’s affections, Mr. Bingley. Jane is a sweet girl, but she seems eager to please others before herself. If there is any hesitation on her part, I daresay that it would be that duty weighing upon her.”
Elizabeth knew that Jane would never admit these things about herself to anyone, or if she was even aware of them, but as the eldest child, she had often been tasked with the care of her younger siblings, seeing to their comfort long before her own. As Mr. Roberts she could share these observations, things she would never say if she was herself. Especially not to a gentleman.
Mr. Bingley seemed to ponder her words, nodding gravely. “I think I like you, Mr. Roberts,” he said. “You have an honest way about you. I believe we shall be very good neighbors.”
“I hope for the same,” Elizabeth replied. She kept her eyes on Mr. Darcy’s straight back and wondered what he was thinking. He had been intent on convincing Mr. Bingley that Jane’s affections for him were slight... perhaps even disingenuous. Why now would he be silent?