Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 2 Page 2

  ‘You ladies seem to be busy. Have we called at a bad time?’ he asked.

  ‘Not at all!’ said Mrs Philips. ‘After your visit earlier today I started thinking about what you had said, and I have decided to hold a Hallowe’en party. My nieces are in agreement with me that it is a good idea. You and all the officers are invited, of course, Colonel.’

  ‘Well, now, that is very kind of you,’ he said. ‘Very kind indeed.’

  The two young officers looked almost as excited as Lydia and expressed their thanks and their delight at the idea.

  ‘You have saved us a journey by your visit,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I have your invitations here.’

  She had by now written most of the invitations. She sorted out the ones for the officers and handed them to the Colonel.

  ‘Why, thank you, Miss Elizabeth,’ said the Colonel with a bow. ‘I appreciate it.’

  He promised to see they all reached their intended recipients.

  ‘We thought it would help the younger officers to feel more comfortable,’ explained Mrs Philips. ‘We hope to make you all feel at home.’

  ‘That is very good of you. I had a similar idea myself. I was just crossing the market square when suddenly an idea popped into my head, as if from nowhere, and I thought, Why not have a bonfire? As soon as I thought of it, I liked the idea, for I am sure a familiar, traditional celebration will help my younger officers.’ He went on to explain. ‘When I was younger we always used to have a bonfire in the middle of our market square on All Hallow’s Eve. Everyone would douse their hearth fires and then light them again from the embers of the bonfire. The procession of townsfolk with their glowing embers was quite a sight. I have just spoken to the mayor about it and he has agreed to revive the custom.’

  ‘Oh, yes, we always used to have a bonfire at Hallowe’en when I was a girl,’ said Mrs Philips. ‘What a splendid idea. It will complement our party very well.’

  Elizabeth recalled the last bonfire in the town, when she had been a little girl. Some towns had moved the tradition to November 5th, in commemoration of the Gunpowder Plot, but Meryton had stayed with the older tradition of having a fire at the end of October. The custom had died out in Meryton, however, and no bonfires had been lit for years. It would be merry to see one again. She could almost smell the wood smoke and see it curling into the dark night sky as they spoke of it.

  ‘I thought we might have some fireworks, too,’ said Colonel Forster. ‘If the ladies will not find them too frightening, that is.’

  He looked at Elizabeth questioningly.

  ‘Not at all. I think a firework display would be wonderful. I have been to several in Regent’s Park when I was staying with my aunt and uncle Gardiner in London, and so have my sisters. I think most of the ladies in Meryton have seen them at one time or another. But do you know where to find any?’

  ‘I do indeed. You may safely leave that to me,’ said Colonel Forster.

  Mr Mount and Mr Staithes had by now lost what remained of their shyness, and instead of sitting there tongue-tied they joined in the conversation, giving their memories of similar parties they had enjoyed in their home towns.

  ‘Then it is all settled,’ said Mrs Philips. ‘This will be a Hallowe’en to remember.’

  A light breeze, almost a sigh, travelled around the room. Mrs Philips got up and closed the window.

  She rang the bell and ordered refreshments. Her guests were only too happy to partake of some tea and cakes, and they discussed the party as they ate and drank. Lydia took the two young officers aside, and from the laughs and whispers it was clear they were planning some tricks and pranks to play on the other guests. Then Colonel Forster took his leave with the two young officers and Elizabeth said they too, must be going.

  She took an affectionate leave of her aunt and then set out for Longbourn with her sister. She was soon enjoying the walk as she felt the crisp autumn air on her cheek with the sun shining full on her face.

  Lydia was very excited, talking over all the things they would need for the party.

  ‘We must have Netherfield apples for the apple bobbing,’ she said. ‘They are softer than ours at Longbourn and so they are easier for people to sink their teeth into.’

  ‘Mr Bingley might not want to give us the run of his orchard,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Of course he will! In fact, see, here he is, coming towards us with his sister and that odious Mr Darcy. Let us ask him.’

  ‘Lydia —’ protested Elizabeth.

  But it was too late. The Netherfield party was upon them.

  Chapter Two

  Mr Bingley was riding a chestnut horse and his sister was riding a grey mare but Elizabeth’s eyes were drawn to Mr Darcy, who was riding a magnificent black stallion. He was a tall man, and well made. His face was noble but it had a determined chin and his expression was haughty.

  He was dressed in the kind of clothes that Meryton did not see very often. His many-caped greatcoat was made by the finest tailor and the cloth was of a very superior quality. It fell open to reveal cream breeches made of such a fine material, and of such a good cut, they did not bag or sag like the breeches of her uncle Philips or many of the other Meryton gentlemen. Instead, they were stretched over his firm thighs without a flaw or blemish. They disappeared into top boots which were glossy with polish.

  After exchanging the usual greetings, Lydia launched straight into the subject.

  ‘Mr Bingley, we need the Netherfield apples for apple bobbing. Do say we may have them!’

  Mr Bingley, unsurprisingly, did not know what to make of this speech and looked at Elizabeth for an explanation.

  ‘My aunt Philips is hosting a Hallowe’en party on the last day of October,’ she said. ‘We would be very grateful if you would let us have some of your apples because they are particularly suitable. We hope we will see you at the party. You are all invited. In fact the invitations will reach you today. My aunt’s servant is even now delivering them.’

  ‘A Hallowe’en party!’ said Miss Bingley, with a lift of her eyebrow and a decided smirk. ‘How old-fashioned these country villages are!’

  Elizabeth, stung by Miss Bingley’s mockery, returned by quoting part of a poem she had learned in her youth:

  ‘Let the rich deride, the proud disdain,

  The simple pleasure of the lowly train;

  To me more dear, congenial to my heart,

  One native charm, than all the gloss of art.’

  Miss Bingley tried to look superior but it was obvious she did not recognise the poem and instead she looked merely foolish.

  Elizabeth was expecting Mr Darcy to make some cutting comment in return, for his pride was already well known in the neighbourhood. But to her surprise he continued quoting the same poem, saying:

  ‘And, even while Fashion's brightest arts decoy,

  The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy?’

  And then he looked directly at Elizabeth, his dark eyes filled with an unreadable expression, and said, ‘Goldsmith. The Deserted Village.’

  Elizabeth was disconcerted. Just for a moment she thought she saw a flash of dissatisfaction in his face and she wondered if he was dissatisfied with the life he led. There had been something in the way he had said Goldsmith’s words that startled her. She felt they came from his heart, and she wondered if he really meant them.

  Was he really the proud, arrogant man he appeared, or was there more to him than met the eye? she wondered. Could he really condemn proud disdain and praise the simple pleasures of the lowly train!? And what did he really think of fashion’s brightest arts? She looked at Miss Bingley, who was arrayed in the most wonderful riding habit. It was in a sumptuous green cloth with black braiding and she wore a feathered hat on her head.

  Perhaps Mr Darcy really doubted if these things offered any happiness. If so, it was a tragedy for Miss Bingley, who was desperately trying to catch him for a husband!

  But a moment later, his habitual disdainful expression crossed his face a
nd Elizabeth laughed at herself for being so fanciful. Mr Darcy was only quoting poetry, after all. He probably wanted to make sure that a country lady could not think herself more learned than he was, and he wanted to show her that he was equally well read. That would be far more in keeping with his character!

  ‘May we come to Netherfield to pick the apples?’ asked Lydia in a wheedling tone of voice. ‘Please, Mr Bingley? The Netherfield apples are the only ones hereabouts that are any good. Ours are too hard. Kitty lost a tooth the last time she went bobbing for them!’

  ‘Kitty was only six at the time, and the tooth was already loose,’ explained Elizabeth.

  ‘In that case, I see why you must have the Netherfield apples,’ he said in a friendly manner. There was a broad smile on his face. ‘We could make a party of it. What do you say to that, Miss Lydia? Will you come and pick apples in my orchard next week, and bring your sisters with you? And your parents, of course.’

  ‘Oh, yes, what fun!’ said Lydia.

  ‘Then, in that case, I will send out the invitations tomorrow,’ said Mr Bingley jovially.

  Mr Darcy’s horse was becoming restive. He controlled it easily but it was obvious he was as restive as his horse. He looked as though he wished himself anywhere but there, talking to people he considered his inferiors. He took control of the situation, touching his hat and thereby signalling that all discussion was at an end. His actions forced Mr Bingley to do the same, although Mr Bingley did it reluctantly. Miss Bingley, however, was obviously as eager to leave as Mr Darcy. She inclined her head in a superior fashion and then turned her horse’s head away.

  The Miss Bennets curtseyed.

  Mr Bingley gave them an apologetic smile and then followed his sister and Mr Darcy, leaving Elizabeth and Lydia to carry on their way.

  As Elizabeth walked on, she found herself wondering if Mr Darcy would be at the apple picking and if he would overcome his pride enough to attend the Hallowe’en party. Probably not! Well, it was his loss. If he thought it better to look down his nose at such innocent pleasures than to join in, then so be it.

  She and Lydia continued on their way. They soon reached Longbourn, where Lydia lost no time in telling her mother all about the party. Mrs Bennet was almost as excited as Lydia.

  ‘Aunt Philips wants us to make the flummery. She says she cannot manage everything herself,’ said Lydia.

  ‘I will tell Hill at once.’ Mrs Bennet went over to the bell and rang it. ‘And we will make the toffee, too. What a time we shall have!’

  ‘We must find some hand mirrors to decorate,’ said Lydia. ‘I want to see the face of my husband!’ She turned to Mary and said mischievously,’ And I am sure you would like to see your husband, too, Mary.’

  Elizabeth looked at her sister suspiciously, wondering what prank she was thinking of playing.

  ‘In point of fact I am unlikely to see him in a mirror, on Hallowe’en or any other night,’ said Mary, looking up from her book.

  ‘That is because you will never marry anyone!’ said Kitty.

  ‘Now, now, Kitty, your sister will make a very good match, I am sure,’ said Mrs Bennet. ‘There are plenty of young officers to go around. Why, I might have two or three of my daughters engaged by the end of the month. I am sure Lydia will do her best to catch someone at the party and Mr Bingley is already sweet on Jane.’

  ‘Mama!’ protested Jane, with a becoming blush.

  ‘Well, my love, why should I not say it when all the town knows it to be true? We will have you living at Netherfield by this time next year, just see if we don’t.’

  Elizabeth and Jane exchanged exasperated glances, but they knew better than to argue with their mother. It would only make her worse.

  ‘Jane will be seeing Mr Bingley at Netherfield next week,’ said Lydia. ‘Mr Bingley is going to hold an apple picking party and it was all my idea!’

  ‘An apple picking party! Just the thing to display your sister in a good light, for no one is more beautiful than Jane. She will show to great advantage in the orchard. Clever, clever Lydia! I am glad that I have one daughter who thinks of these things,’ said Mrs Bennet.

  Jane and Elizabeth retired to the sitting-room, where they could hold a sensible conversation without having to listen to their mother’s raptures.

  It was a more stylish room than the sitting room of Mrs Philips, for the Bennets were wealthier than their relatives. Mrs Bennet – Miss Gardiner as she had been before her marriage - had wed a landowner with a comfortable estate, whereas Mrs Philips had only married her father’s clerk. The sitting room at Longbourn was much larger than the one at Mrs Philips’s house and the furniture was on a grander scale. There was a decorative carpet on the floor, with elegant sofas and chairs set upon it. The wallpaper was a handsome gold stripe and there were several good oil paintings hung on the walls. At the edges of the room, elegant console tables were topped with vases of flowers. Gilded mirrors hung on the walls. The curtains at the windows reached from the ceiling to the floor and the view gave over the pretty garden.

  ‘Is it true, are we really going to Netherfield?’ asked Jane.

  She sat down on one of the elegant sofas and arranged her muslin gown around her.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Elizabeth, sweeping her skirt beneath her as she, too, sat down. ‘Lydia pestered Mr Bingley and he could not say no. I should have scolded her, but I must admit I am looking forward to it. We have not been apple picking at Netherfield since we were children! But what about you, Jane? Are you looking forward to it?’

  Jane thought for a moment and coloured slightly. Then she said, ‘Yes, I think so. I am very fond of Mr Bingley, as you know, and it is always agreeable to see him.’ Her expression became anxious. ‘But I hope that Mama will not make too much of it. I doubt if he thinks about me in a serious way. He is always very agreeable, of course, but he is agreeable to everyone. And as he is a young man just embarking on life, he is far too young to be thinking of romance.’

  ‘Romance has a habit of surprising people when they least expect it,’ said Elizabeth.

  Her thoughts flew to Mr Darcy and she wondered if romance would surprise him when he least expected it.

  She doubted it.

  Romance would not dare!

  ‘That is true,’ said Jane thoughtfully. ‘It has for me. I did not expect to meet anyone like Mr Bingley in Meryton, or anywhere else.’

  ‘And I am sure he did not expect to meet anyone like you.’

  Jane blushed again.

  Elizabeth, seeing her sister was uncomfortable with the subject and truly did not want to be teased about it, allowed the matter to drop.

  They turned their attention to the party. They knew their Mama would be all in a flurry and that she would forget half the necessary items and spend her time providing things that no one needed. And so they began to think of everything that would make the party a success. They made a list of all the traditional games and activities they would like to play and then made a list of all the traditional food they would like to eat.

  ‘It will be a lot of work for Hill,’ said Elizabeth, thinking of the housekeeper.

  ‘True. I know that Mama does not usually like us to help out in the kitchen, but I think we must persuade her to let us help Hill on this occasion,’ said Jane.

  ‘Yes, we must. As long as no one knows about it she will not mind,’ said Elizabeth.

  Mrs Bennet had a habit of telling strangers that Charlotte Lucas – Elizabeth and Jane’s friend – was often needed to help in the kitchen, but that, at Longbourn, there were servants to do the cooking. It was not that Mrs Bennet was deliberately cruel, it was more that she was fiercely loyal to her daughters and always wanted to show them in a good light. If that meant showing Charlotte Lucas in a worse light – well, that was just Mrs Bennet’s way.

  Elizabeth and Jane finally finished their lists. Then they parted, the better to begin making the preparations.

  The following day, Mr Darcy stood by the fireplace in the lib
rary of Netherfield Park, looking out at the dull October day. There was a fine mist over the lake and curling through the trees, muting the landscape and making it dim and obscure. A hint of the lake could be seen, looming occasionally through a gap in the mist. Mr Darcy found himself hoping the mist would thicken and blanket the county for the next week, day and night, so that the Hallowe’en party would be called off, for it was causing him much perplexity.

  When Miss Lydia Bennet had first announced it, springing the idea on the Netherfield party while they were out riding the day before, his attitude had been much the same as that of Miss Bingley: tedious . . . yokels . . . vulgar . . . noise . . . coarse . . . These were some of the thoughts that had flashed through his mind.

  It had been in the tip of his tongue to make some excuse, saying he had pressing business in London, when Miss Elizabeth Bennet had quoted those lines from Goldsmith and they had stopped him in mid-thought. He had finished her quotation without thinking, because finishing quotations had been something instilled in him as a boy by his tutors. But as he had spoken the words he had been conscious of agreeing with them; for the quotation, learnt in his boyhood, had taken him momentarily back to his youth, and the talk of a party with its traditional pursuits had reawakened a boyish enthusiasm inside him.

  He had not felt such an enthusiasm for anything for years.

  Goldsmith’s words had seemed particularly meaningful:

  Let the rich deride, the proud disdain,

  The simple pleasure of the lowly train

  As he said them, he had seen himself differently in a flash of self-awareness; not the disciplined and courteous gentleman he usually thought himself, but as a rich, proud man disdaining simple pleasures. And at the words, Fashion's brightest arts decoy he could not help glancing at Miss Bingley, who was decked out in all the latest fashions, and thinking: The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy?

  Is it joy? he asked himself, as he walked over to the window and stood there looking out over the gardens with his hands clasped behind his back.