Page 44 of The Wager
Elizabeth waited until they had departed the room before ringing for Hill. When she appeared in the doorway, a quick explanation was all that was required for the faithful housekeeper to hurry back to the kitchen, whereupon she asked Mrs. Pruitt to prepare a soothing draught. While Mrs. Hill took care of her end of this sad business, Elizabeth made her way to Papa’s study. At her light knock, he bade her to enter.
“What is it, Lizzy? You seem upset.”
“Mamma had another of her episodes. She asked where Aunt Phillips was and spoke of her hopes of seeing Mr. Hamilton this evening.”
“You have notified Mrs. Hill?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Jane took Mamma upstairs. By now they will have provided her with one of Mrs. Hill’s curative draughts.”
Papa removed his spectacles and placed them carefully on his desk.
“We all know your mother reacted to the physical similarities of Mr. Darcy and the effects of that encounter still linger. Fortunately, these episodes are fleeting.”
“Should we send our regrets to the Harringtons?”
“Let us see if your mother settles. Otherwise, I shall escort you, Jane, and Mary, explaining your mother’s absence as having a severe megrim. No one will think anything of it, as all our friends are aware she has suffered them almost all her life.”
“Papa…” Elizabeth’s heart clenched and she struggled to keep her eyes from welling up with tears. “Should I have refused Mr. Darcy’s courtship?”
“No!”
She was startled by the ferocity of his singular answer. Her stepfather pinched the bridge of his nose, then dropped his hand onto the desk, his expression one of fatherly concern and love.
“No,” he continued more gently. “You shall not put your life on hold for this. If your courtship leads to marriage, which I believe it will, most of your adult life will be spent either in Town or in Derbyshire. Do not forsake your happiness for something you cannot change.”
“Howuncommonlyfastyouwrite, Mr. Darcy.”
Had this conversation not taken place without the distracting presence of Lady Elizabeth Hamilton Bennet, Darcy would have thought he was re-living an evening ten days prior. However, there was only the Netherfield party in the drawing room and no lovely Elizabeth in sight. It seemed Miss Bingley had finally run out of new compliments.
To humor himself and no other person, he replied exactly as he had before.
“You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.”
He waited for her to expound on the number of letters he had to write over the course of the year or beg him to send unwelcome greetings to his sister – yet again. To his surprise and dismay, she launched into her second favorite thing to do, which was to malign Meryton and its residents.
“I am exceedingly glad Charles did not accept the dinner invitation to the Harringtons.”
Charles glanced up from the paper he was reading.
“We did not receive one, Caroline. I cannot turn down that which I did not receive.”
This was the first Darcy knew of a dinner party. He glanced toward Ashton, who simply lifted his eyebrow and slightly shrugged his shoulders. Could it be that small flotsam of gossip from Netherfield was beginning to trickle its way into Meryton concerning what Miss Bingley thought of the Bennet family, and the citizens of Meryton were closing rank to protect one of their own? He dearly hoped that were true.
He knew Elizabeth and her sister believed only a few trusted souls knew their true rank and disposition, but he had observed the deep respect their friends and neighbors showed in their presence and it would not surprise him one little bit if their ‘secret’ was the worst one held in the history of England.
Miss Bingley, making no headway in her attempt to capture Darcy’s attention, strolled about the room casting heavy sighs and long looks in his direction. For the most part, he ignored her and continued writing to Georgiana. Finally, Bingley’s sister took the seat across from her brother and began peppering him with questions about the ball he had asked her to host on the twenty-sixth of November.
“Why are you asking me all these questions?” Bingley cried out and practically threw his paper onto the sofa in frustration. “You have had ample time to order everything you require. I told you of this before Michaelmas when I took possession of Netherfield. Other than complaining about the Bennets and Meryton, what else have you done with your time?”
“You have no idea what is needed for an event of this magnitude!” Miss Bingley hissed back at him. “All you have to do is go out and shoot some birds, or ride your horse around the estate. Meanwhile, I have been managing the staff and household, I have had to hire musicians, extra staff, and cooks for one night’s activities. I have had to order decorations, extra glassware, and everything else that goes with ensuring our guest’s comfort for the night. I also have to oversee the preparation of the ballroom from the chandeliers to the chalk work on the floor. And, add to all that, I have had to entertain your rude lady love and her hideous sisters.”
“Miss Hamilton is not rude.”
“That is all you heard? Miss Hamilton is rude?”
“Truly, it is the only thing that mattered to me,” Bingley said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Miss Hamilton is an angel.”
