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The first of her sisters to be ready for that evening’s outing, Lizzy crept slowly down the stairs and towards Mr Bennet’s study. The heavy oak door was closed, but that had long since ceased to be the barrier to Lizzy it remained to the rest of her sisters and her mother. She rapped smartly on the door and pushed it open before her father had even managed to call out a response.
“Ah, Lizzy!” He beamed, blinking a little ruefully at her as she tripped lightly into the room. “I do not know why you bother to knock, my dear, as you are determined to enter whether I answer or not.”
“Sorry,” Lizzy laughed, her good humour belying the word. She ran her finger along the spines of a shelf filled with books, selecting one at random, and sank into the chair opposite her father’s: the one she always thought of as being there for her own personal purposes.
“You look very pretty this evening,” Mr Bennet observed, affecting to return his attention to his work, after passing an approving glance over his second-eldest daughter. “I am aware that is the general opinion a father ought to bestow upon his daughters when they are dressed in their finery for an evening of society.” He looked up at her again and winked. “How did I do?”
“Quite believable,” Lizzy retorted, flipping her book open at random and glancing at the page as if looking for an answer to a question she had not asked aloud. “Although I could have done without the explanation. It somewhat detracts from the compliment.” She sighed, closing the book and leaning forward to drop it on an empty corner of her father’s desk.
Mr Bennet’s eyebrows lifted.
“Well, you may look ready for an evening of merriment and fine dining - remind me to enquire of Mr Bingley how he manages to maintain the services of so excellent a cook, won’t you my dear? - but you certainly do not seem excited at such a prospect. Is something the matter?” His grey eyebrows knit in genuine concern. “You are not sickening, I hope?”
“Me?” Lizzy smiled. “I have the constitution of a horse, Papa, you know that.”
Mr Bennet harrumphed, choosing not to mention at this moment that constitution was not the only thing Lizzy shared with her nemesis-creature, for she would persist in running even now when, as a fully grown lady, such practice caused her mother almost to have a fit whenever she came to hear of it.
“Then what ails you, Lizzy, dear. You may tell you dear Papa and trust that it shall not pass my lips. Nor indeed remain too long in my addled brain, I fear.” He set his papers aside and devoted his whole attention to his daughter. “I do not remember things as well as I used to, but for your sake, I shall strive to make an exception.”
Lizzy smiled, but the expression was not a convincing one and Mr Bennet waited patiently in hopes that silence would encourage his daughter to speak more effectively than inquiry would draw the answer from her. He was proved correct in his assessment, for after a long moment, Lizzy began to speak.
“Papa.” She traced a pattern with the toe of her slipper, keeping her eyes fixed on her task so that she might not be forced to look at her father as she spoke. She hoped that this would lend an air of whimsy and indifference to her manner, but her father was too astute for such deception. Still, he said nothing and Lizzy continued, hoping that he would not see through her entirely. “How did you know that you cared for Mama?”
“She reminds me of it every day,” he remarked, drily. “Surely you have heard her constant instructions that if I truly cared for her as any husband ought I would do this or that without her having to ask me a dozen times...” He shook his head. “Ah, but forgive me, Lizzy. You mean, I fancy, when did I first think that I cared for her? When did I decide I would make her my wife and thus begin the sparkling love story you see played out before you from dawn until dusk each day under this very roof?” His eyes glinted with fun, and Lizzy nodded, eagerly, too serious to laugh as she ordinarily would at her father’s droll response.
“Well, it was at a dinner. Not unlike this evening’s, I suppose. Oh, we had met once or twice before, of course. Danced together at an assembly, if you can believe that your decrepit father was once capable of dancing, and dancing well, I might add. No, on one particular evening we were invited to dine with some mutual friends - or rather, I was invited to dine, as was your mother and her family. I had some inkling that she might be there, or perhaps I merely hoped that she would be, for I had determined that the next opportunity I got I would speak plainly to her and see if I could deduce for myself where her heart lay. She was difficult to read, your mother, for whilst she twittered and teased me and complimented me so that my head swelled to ten times its normal size, I could not be sure she did not act in so dizzying a manner with every gentleman she met. This evening I was permitted the chance to witness her interacting with our host, a very genial fellow but a few years older than I and also, on that occasion, without a wife. Oh, she was polite, yes, but her eyes did not sparkle the way they did when she looked at me. Her jokes were rather simpler, and not at all funny, I might add, despite the way our host roared with unnecessary laughter. When, at last, we were permitted to talk, I knew there was no need to ask her anything, for our eyes met in the midst of it all and it was as if we just knew we were meant to be together. We were married not a month later, and the rest, my dear Lizzy, is a beautiful history of which you have contributed a chapter.”
Lizzy nodded, satisfied to hear this rendition of the story she had often heard throughout her childhood. The warmth with which her father recollected their courtship was an encouragement to her, for she had always wondered how it could be that two people so unlike could possibly have found happiness together, and yet she supposed they were happy.
“Are you thinking of Jane, Lizzy, when you ask how one is to know whether one is in love?”
Mr Bennet’s question was offered matter-of-factly, but Lizzy’s face flamed hot and she was certain he could tell by looking the truth of her thoughts.
“I think we all knew that Jane was in love by the end of her first dance with Mr Bingley,” Mr Bennet remarked, with a sly smile. “As was he with her. We cannot all be so fortunate as to know our true feelings immediately and not deviate from them.” A shadow flickered over her father’s face but before Lizzy could inquire into what it might mean, he reached out a weathered hand and laid it warmly over hers.
“I would suggest, Elizabeth, that it is perfectly acceptable - advisable, even! - to revisit one’s first opinions of a person. Just because you do not like someone on the very first instance you meet does not mean you must despise them forever. A great many people do not make good impressions at balls.” He darted a glance to the ceiling, as Lydia let out a shrill yell. “Your youngest sister, for instance. But let me tell you a secret of humanity that you will learn as you get older, Lizzy.” He dropped his voice to a whisper and winked. “You are allowed to change your mind.”
***
CAROLINE WAS MISERABLE. Oh, she did not seem miserable. She was, in fact, working very hard to ensure that she did not appear to Mr Darcy and her brother as anything other than entirely content, but inwardly she was seething.
Charles would have had her keep to her room and be brought dinner on a tray, but she had worked quickly enough to squash that idea, insisting that already she felt as if her ankle was healing. She would have gone all the way to suggesting she was almost completely well again until she caught sight of a disbelieving flash in Mr Darcy’s eyes, which prompted her to admit, with regret, that whilst her foot still pained her she could at least bear it well enough to stay downstairs, and she did so long to see dear Jane again.
And so she had commandeered a sofa, after ordering their servants to position it in a more favourable aspect, where she might observe the entire room, and be easily observed by its occupants when they chose to arrive. She had managed to ensure Mr Darcy remained by her side, too, for whilst he had tired quite quickly of reading, and found some excuse to be away from her, he was the first to return to the parlour readied for dinner, as Charles always took far too long to dress, as Caroline had known he would, particularly on that evening when he would be reunited with the young lady he was so hopelessly in love with. Mr Darcy had hesitated on the threshold of the room and Caroline suspected he might have retreated back upstairs had she not seen him and been quick to encourage him to join her.
“Shall we return to our book, Mr Darcy?” she asked, putting a heavy emphasis on the word our. She liked to have something in common with him. Elizabeth Bennet could not even boast of that, surely. It was a small win in the grand scheme of things, but she would not relinquish it when she had little else to rejoice over.
“Very well,” Mr Darcy replied, a hint of resignation in his voice. He had taken the seat next to her but had managed scarcely a page before there was a flurry of activity in the hallway, followed by the thunder of Charles’ footsteps on the stairs, and everybody arrived at once. Mr Darcy stood, handing the book back to Caroline and crossing the parlour in two long strides so that he could be ready to welcome their guests. He was second only to Charles, who had scarcely descended the stairs than he had greeted the party with beaming, enthusiastic good evenings and strong-armed the whole merry lot of them into the parlour, in a giddy wave of conversation.
“Yes, I think it was a very fine idea of Darcy’s to invite you all here, for isn’t this precisely how one ought to spend the festive period? Surrounded by friends, eating, drinking, and being merry - oh, Caroline, look our guests are here!” Charles announced as he swept into the parlour with Jane Bennet on his arm, looking as if he could not be happier if he were crowned King.
“I noticed,” Caroline said drily, before spying Mr Darcy escorting the other ladies into the room. She sought to rearrange her voice and her expression into something rather more welcoming. “How lovely it is to see you again, Jane, dear. Here, come and sit by me, won’t you?”
Jane glanced questioningly at Charles, and Caroline noticed her reluctance to leave him, but politeness won out and she moved closer to Caroline, bending to greet her with an embrace that was entirely genuine on her part, if not on Caroline’s.
“Has Charles told you of my misfortune?” she asked. “I slipped on the ice!” She pointed helplessly towards her feet, propped up on pillows before her. “And so I am forced to remain seated, alas!”
“Oh dear!” Jane’s voice was warm with sympathy.
“I thought you said you were aware of some improvement, Miss Bingley?” Mr Darcy asked, sweeping into the room and not, Caroline noticed unhappily, as sympathetic as he had been earlier in the day.
That is Elizabeth Bennet’s influence for you! she thought, spitefully. Oh, how she would like to tell that young lady what she really thought of her. Manipulating her way into Fitzwilliam Darcy’s affections and engineering him to fall in love with her when it was obvious there were far more suitable, deserving ladies in his circle. She fixed Elizabeth with a cruel smile.
“And Eliza! You have not changed a bit. Your cheeks are so ruddy and windswept, I wonder that you do not wish to stand closer to the fire and will some colour back into your wan features.”
“How can she be both ruddy and wan, Caro, dear?” Charles asked, with a laugh. “Surely one must be either one or the other. But do, all of you, come closer to the fire. It has been a bitter Christmas here, so Darcy has been telling me, and I am quite sure we all of us will end the year frostbitten if we are not careful!”
This provoked general amusement and everyone obediently shuffled closer to the blazing hearth.
Charles steered the conversation towards a long table, laden with platters.
“This also allows me to introduce you to our evening’s meal - or rather, meals!” He was utterly delighted by the idea that he had concocted that neither Caroline nor Darcy could dissuade him from. “I thought we would make a sort of picnic of it, and eat away to our hearts’ content, cosy in here with the fire. That way Caroline may join us without struggling to make it into the dining room, and we can all be a little more relaxed. What say you? Is it not the most marvellous idea?”
Nobody said a word for a moment, and Caroline felt a malicious flicker of glee to see her brother’s hopes crushed. Perhaps this single faux pas would be enough to end Jane Bennet’s infatuation and she, Caroline, would need fear no more. Alas, a moment later, the silence was broken as Mr Bennet let out a low rumble of a laugh.
“A delightful idea!” He patted his round midsection. “Capital fun! Come, my dear Mrs Bennet. We must position ourselves here, on this low love-seat, here, look, there is room for us both if you are content to sit close to me...” He slid an arm around his wife and cuddled close to her. “How cosy we shall be!”
This was enough to provoke a ripple of laughter and activity as everyone followed suit, finding seats for themselves from the variety available in the Netherfield parlour. Lydia and Kitty, to Caroline’s horror, merely dropped down onto the floor, and the other Bennet sister - Mary? - the quiet, mousy one, found herself a corner and slipped a tiny book from her reticule that she began to read furiously in the light of the fire.
“Is our company boring you?” Caroline asked, finding a target for her unhappy mood in this particular situation, and feeling gratified when all eyes turned, askance, towards that corner.
“Mary!” Jane hissed, blushing and looking in apology towards Charles.
“You may read if you wish!” Charles beamed, eager to diffuse any tension. “This is a holiday. We are picnicking after all, and everyone must do precisely as they want to!”
Precisely as they want to? Caroline thought, sourly, as she glanced around the room and saw every one of her companions having fun except for her. Her heart sank even lower when she noticed Charles select a seat suspiciously close to Jane. Even Mr Darcy, after a long moment of hesitation, angled his own chair a little closer to Elizabeth, who seemed almost oblivious to his presence, so intent was she on watching the flickering of the fire in the hearth.