Page 53 of Without Pride and Prejudice

I took Jane’s hand. “You need not be nervous. It is plain to see that Mr. Bingley holds you in high regard, so be yourself.” Yes, I did understand the hypocrisy in my words. But I was trying to be someone else for noble reasons. “There is no needfor you to be shy about who you are. You are the kindest creature.” She truly was; she was the peacemaker of the Bennet family, and she’d been sweet enough to brush my hair last night and let me ramble on about my time with Mr. Darcy.

I feared I was going way off script with that advice, but what was I supposed to say?“You should be more reserved, Jane, so Mr. Bingley leaves you for months while you torture yourself about your feelings and his?”Perhaps I should have said nothing, but it seemed unfair, considering what was going on with Mr. Darcy and me. I mean, it wasn’t all that exciting. Dang Regency rules. Mr. Darcy was all sorts of proper, and the whole chaperone thing was kind of a bummer—not to say anything would have happened. Don’t get me wrong, though, I thoroughly enjoyed my time with him. And despite missing my non-horsehair toothbrush, running water, electricity, lattes, and everyone I cared about, I was having a great time. Okay, so I was a little homesick, but was I ever rocking this Elizabeth thing.

Mr. Darcy had even sent me a book this morning,The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, along with a letter that read:

Dear Miss Bennet,

I do hope you will enjoy the book. While it is a work of fiction, I believe the way Henry Fielding explores human nature might be of some interest to you. I look forward with anticipation to discussing his words with you.

Yours sincerely,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

It wasn’t as romantic as Fitz’s letter, but I was freaking giddy about it. It’s not every day a girl gets a letter from the real Mr. Darcy. Honestly, Fitz and Mr. Darcy were so similar, even with their taste in literature. I’d spent most of the day reading the book, which was very much like watching a soap opera. Poor Tom was not all that lucky in love, and I’m not sure Sophiatruly deserved him, given she had only married him after he’d inherited money and land, but what did I know?

I knew that Fitz would have found a great deal of value in its study. The wit and satire were right up his alley—he was all about eighteenth century literature. As for me, I kept thinking someone should make it into a musical. Fitz would definitely roll his eyes about that. But I also thought about how Fitz would have seen the deeper meaning in the story, about how we place people in society based on birth, wealth, and education.

Strangely,Pride and Prejudicehad many of the same themes. Mr. Darcy didn’t even realize how much his own story had been a matter of modern-day study. It’s the reason we end up loving him so much, because he overcame his pride and saw Elizabeth for who she was and not the circumstances in which she’d been born.

I’d always admired Fitz because he prided himself on the station he made for himself, not the one to which he was born. And I used to believe he looked at the individual, not the class in which society had placed them. But maybe I’d been wrong. I feared now that during the entirety of our relationship he’d seen me as unequal to him, a stain on his reputation, even.

Jane patted my hand. “I am so happy you are with me, Lizzy. With you by my side, I feel less intimidated.”

“Do you speak of being intimidated by Mr. Bingley or his sisters?”

“His sisters,” she mumbled, embarrassed. “They are so accomplished. And do you see how beautifully they dress? People say Miss Bingley plays and sings like an angel. I surely do not play half so well. What if they ask me to perform?”

I didn’t know who these people were that Jane spoke of, but I highly doubted Miss Bingley was anywhere close to an angel. I kept that snarky thought to myself, though. “Jane, you are just as accomplished as Miss Bingley. You are just too modest. But ifit makes you feel better, we can perform a duet if our guests ask you to play this evening.”

Jane threw her arms around me. “Oh, Lizzy, thank you. Perhaps we could perform ‘The Battle of Prague,’ the song you helped Mary with yesterday.”

Yep, I’d gone down that rabbit hole. However, it was more due to my role as a voice and piano instructor and the evident lack of proper instruction Mary had received. I had a sneaking suspicion Mrs. Bennet liked her even less than she liked me. Although now that I had Mr. Darcy’s attention, I was becoming one of her favorites. She’d been the happiest woman in the world yesterday after she’d returned from Lucas Lodge.

“I would love to,” I responded.

“You have been practicing much, Lizzy. I think you are now the finest player among us.”

I gave her an uncomfortable smile.

For the rest of our ride we talked about the number of courses they might serve at Netherfield and whether it would rain before we returned home.

I looked eagerly out of the carriage window as we drove down the long gravel drive lined with majestic trees, readying us for the grandeur awaiting as we approached the house at Netherfield Park. It felt like I was entering a magical realm, like how I felt when Fitz and I had arrived at Pride and Prejudice Park. This time I wasn’t waving out the window at the footmen, even though I kind of wanted to. They looked so cute just standing there, probably freezing, waiting to help us out of the carriage. But I remembered how quiet Fitz had been in that moment. Had I embarrassed him? Was I an embarrassment?

The carriage came to a stop, and a footman opened our door to reveal a Georgian-style mansion with large sash windows and a grand entrance with a portico supported by columns. It was everything I’d imagined it would be. For all I knew, Iwasimagining it. If so, my brain cells deserved all the props. Now if only they could imagine me a hot shower.

Jane and I exited the carriage with the help of the footman. I was really hoping for Mr. Darcy. I needed a hand-flex scene in my life. And you had better believe I would take my gloves off for that. No hand flexing happened, but our hosts and hostesses greeted us in the spacious entrance hall that glowed with hundreds of candles. The candlelight made the house seem much cozier than grand. Grand it was, though, with a sweeping staircase and artwork framed in genuine gold. I wished I had my phone so I could take a picture.

But the grandest sight of all was Mr. Darcy, who seemed to be eagerly awaiting my arrival, judging by the way his eyes gave me a good once-over. That’s right, Mr. Darcy was checking me out in my pretty pink dress that definitely made the girls stand out. Unfortunately, Miss Bingley had stationed herself next to him and was shooting deadly daggers at me with her eyes. She was such a Winnifred, meaning she was as gorgeous as could be, even if she had feathers sticking out of her hair. To each their own—I went with pearls.

Mr. Bingley bounced on the balls of his feet, enamored with Jane. “Welcome, welcome,” he said cheerily as Jane and I handed our shawls to the butler.

Jane and I curtsied and then said in unison, like we were the Doublemint Twins, “Thank you for the kind invitation.”

“Your home is beautiful,” I commented.

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Bingley said enthusiastically. “I credit Caroline for that.”

Miss Bingley sneered at me.

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