Excentryke's Musings

Rose and Lavender Water

Part the Second

When Jane was one and twenty, Elizabeth a year younger, and the twins two years younger than she, Mama came into the room and asked her husband, “My dear Mr. Bennet, have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?”

Bella smiled to herself and picked up her teacup to hide the expression although she was currently occupied with embroidering a cushion.

Mary noticed and gave her sister a look.

Bella widened her eyes and left it at that.

Mrs. Long had just been for a visit, and she had certainly told Mama—before Bella had had a chance to tell Mama herself.

“Is that so, Mrs. Bennet?” Papa asked.  “I had not heard.”

“Do you not want to know who has taken it?”

“Mr. Bingley,” Bella answered for her father, and the entire room turned to her.

“How do you know this, Isabella?” Papa asked in astonishment.  “Has Mrs. Long been speaking to you as well?”

“No,” she told him, finishing a stitch in the pillow she was embroidering before setting it down.  “A week ago I was at Netherfield, enjoying the bluebells, when I met Mr. Bingley.  He had come to see the house.  He is a most affable young gentleman.  I asked him if he and his sisters meant to be moved in by the time of the full moon, so that he might attend the Assembly, and he assured me that that would be the case.  We shall have a new dance partner, Mama.”  She specifically did not mention Darcy.  She was not entirely certain why, but she wanted to keep him a secret a little while longer.

Her eyes cut to Mary and her sister looked at her questioningly, obviously wondering about her omission.

The room was stunned to silence.

Mama was the one to speak first.  “Well, Isabella, I wish you had told me, so that I could have been the one to tell Mrs. Long.”

“Well, when you next see her, you can tell her that Miss Caroline Bingley and his other sister, Mrs. Hurst, will be traveling with him.  He said nothing about Mr. Hurst,” she added, suddenly realizing.

“Marvelous!” Mama declared.  “And there is no Mrs. Bingley so this is a fine thing for our girls.”

“How so?  How can it affect them?” Papa asked, not looking up from his paper.

“Why,” Mama declared, “you must know that I am thinking of him marrying one of them!  As Jane is the prettiest and the eldest, perhaps it will be she.”  On cue, the entire room looked at Jane, at her honey blonde hair, sky blue eyes, and delicate features.  Jane did not seem to be paying particular attention.  She was stitching a sampler and seemed absorbed in her pattern.

Elizabeth harrumphed.  Bella supposed she was jealous of Jane’s beauty.  Elizabeth was often jealous of all three of her sisters, even Mary who was shy, quiet, although she could play the pianoforte quite well.

“Do you think he is looking for a bride, Isabella?” Mama inquired.

Bella considered.  “He is most affable,” she agreed.

Mama’s attention focused back on Papa.  “You must call on him immediately, Mr. Bennet.  Isabella has done most admirably in forming an acquaintance although it may not have been entirely proper,” her eyes flitted to her youngest of four daughters.  “However, it could not have been helped.  Indeed, Mr. Bennet, you must call on him.”

“I should not think so,” Papa answered.

“Whyever not?” Mama exclaimed.

“You shall meet him at the Assembly.  And as you said, he has met our Isabella.  He should call on us.”

“But Mr. Bennet!  Although surely a gentleman can call on a young lady, he surely cannot call on her until he has met her father!  He is also new to the neighborhood!  You must introduce the rest of the family!  It is only polite!”

Bella could see her papa roll his eyes behind his paper.

She shared another look with Mary.

“Did he ask you for a dance, Isabella?” Mama inquired.

She hesitated.  “Not specifically—”

“There, Mr. Bennet.  Surely you must go!”

“Surely I must not,” he muttered into his paper, though loudly enough for the ladies to hear him. 

Mama’s mouth opened to retort, but it seemed she could not find the words, and several moments later, she closed it, looking away toward her eldest daughter in exasperation.  Jane continued to stitch at her sampler.

Jane really was vacuous, Bella thought.

It was eight days later precisely when Bella was saddling Nell when she saw her papa come into the stable to order his own horse be saddled, dressed in a fresh cravat and a hat.  He was even carrying a cane.

“Papa,” she greeted, “are you going out?”

“Going toward Netherfield Park?  You should know that it is occupied now,” he chided her.

“I have seen servants unloading provisions,” she told him carefully.  “Is Mr. Bingley in residence?”

“Indeed he is,” Papa informed her as his own horse was led toward him.  “Shall you like to come and see your chum?  Perhaps he shall even ask you for a dance.”

Bella smiled at him.  “I am not wishing for a dance as Jane or Elizabeth might be,” she confessed.  Not from Bingley, she added in her head, “although, as I said, Mr. Bingley is most affable.  Could you leave me in the bluebells?”

“If it is your wish.”

They both mounted their horses and rode in the direction of Netherfield.  It was a short ride, the weather was pleasant, not too sunny, and they went directly to the stables where they surrendered their horses, Bella taking her volume of Byron from the saddle bag.  Papa looked at her reproachfully, but she only smiled at him.  He would never curb the reading of any of his daughters, so they parted as he went up the stairs of the great house and she rushed into the bluebells in the open fields in front.

Papa should have only have been fifteen minutes, half an hour at most, before coming to inform her that he was off or that perhaps Bingley would like his bluebells back, but it was not ten minutes when she heard footfall that was heavier than her father’s.  Looking up, she saw it was none other than Darcy and she quickly marked her place and stood.

She had unfortunately discarded her bonnet again as was her habit, but her hair was neatly placed in a bun on the base of her skull and she fortunately did not have freckles (unlike Elizabeth).  That day she was wearing a pale blue muslin with a green pelisse and dark blue slippers.  She had not dressed for calling, favoring more homespun fabrics, but at least she was not dressed badly.

Immediately curtseying, Darcy took off his hat to her, and she quickly asked, “Do you want me to surrender the bluebells?  I came with Papa and will happily leave with him.”

“I know, Miss Bennet.  When I heard you were here, I came to pay my respects.”  His dark green eyes flashed, and she was struck again by how handsome he was.

“Oh,” she murmured, a small smile tugging on her lips.  “How thoughtful of you, Mr. Darcy.”

“It is not thoughtfulness,” he told her, a slight lining of arrogance in his tone before he indicated that they should walk. 

She was not entirely certain how to answer that.  Pausing for a moment, she then asked, “How do you find the house, Mr. Darcy?”

“Quite adequate,” he told her.  “It is nothing to Pemberley, but I do not think there is a finer house in England than Pemberley.”

Strange that he was bringing up his own estate.  Still, she would follow the conversation where it led.  “In what part of the country is Pemberley?” she inquired.  “I have only seen Hertfordshire and London.”

“Derbyshire,” he told her, “in the Lake District.”

“That must be beautiful country,” she conceded.  “The country of poets.”  She tacked on the last part thinking of her own interests. 

“You enjoy poetry, Miss Bennet?” he inquired.  “I have noticed that both times I have seen you, you have been reading.  It is rather poetic, certainly, to be reading in a field of flowers.”  He cast his eyes briefly over the field of bluebells before returning his intense gaze to her. 

Holding out the book of Byron slightly, Bella agreed, “I enjoy poetry above all else and Papa does not forbid any reading material.”

He took the volume and read the title page.  “Byron,” he noted.  “No, I see that Mr. Bennet is extremely liberal in your education.”

“Surely it is better than a Mrs. Radcliffe novel,” she jested as he handed it back to her, the ribbons of her bonnet still in her hand.

Finally, she drew a smile from him.  “My sister is much enamored of Mrs. Radcliffe novels.”

“I would never criticize anything Miss Darcy would read,” she quickly amended.  “I am sure it is only right and proper.”

“While you are not right and proper?” he teased with a light in his eyes.

“I shall have you know that I sing,” she told him archly, “while Mary accompanies me.  Sir William asks us to perform whenever there is a pianoforte to be had.  I am certain that is nothing but proper.”

“I see I am in the company of an artist.”

“Not a great one, I assure you,” she demurred, looking over at him as they came closer to a line of trees and she turned so that they would not approach them too closely.  He turned them more so that they would be in easier view of the house and she noticed that her papa was now coming out of the doors.  She indicated Netherfield with her head.

Darcy paused.  “I realize it is for the lady of the house to usually issue invitations, but would you like to stay for tea, Miss Bennet?”

She was startled and looked up at him.  “If Papa agrees and it does not inconvenience Miss Bingley nor Mrs. Hurst.”

“It shall not even inconvenience Mr. Hurst, I assure you.”  He lifted his hand to her back and guided her back toward the house.

They met Papa at the gravel where he was waiting.  Their two horses were being brought to him by a groom.  “Ah, Isabella,” he greeted.  “I’m sure you would love your bluebells, but you should not trespass on Mr. Bingley’s hospitality.”

“Of course not,” Bella agreed.  “Have you been introduced to Mr. Darcy of Pemberley?”

“Briefly.”  He agreed, offering his hand to shake Darcy’s although it seemed they had already met.  “Thank you for looking after Isabella.”

“Not at all.  I have invited Miss Bennet to tea, if that would not inconvenience you.”  Darcy was suddenly so formal that it surprised Bella and she looked up to him in shock, but she then quickly returned her attention to her father.  “Miss Bingley would be happy to extend her hospitality to a new neighbor.”

“Indeed,” Papa agreed, taking in Bella.  “Well, as long as Isabella is home for dinner.”  He glanced up at the sky.  “It does not look like rain so she can ride home.”  He turned to the groom.  “Take the mare back to the stables.  No, not that one.  The small one.  What are you about, man?” he demanded angrily. 

Bella hurried forward and put the Byron in her saddle bag, smiling at the groom before dismissing him.

Papa sighed.

Taking up the reins to his horse, now that the groom had departed again with Bella’s mare, he tipped his hat to Darcy.  “Good day, sir.”  He chuffed Bella on the cheek and then Darcy and Bella backed up so that he could mount.

He was soon gone across the fields and Bella was left alone with Darcy.

“Come,” Darcy insisted.  Leading her up the grand outdoor staircase, they ascended the stairs and Bella entered Netherfield Park for the first time in her life.

The interior was definitely fine.  Bella was certain not to look awestruck as she gave over her bonnet and riding gloves, keeping her pelisse, as Darcy led her to a fine sitting room where two young ladies, one about Jane’s age and one slightly younger, were sitting and playing cards with Bingley.  A gentleman was off to the side drinking a glass of what appeared to be port.

“Ah, you have secured her!” Bingley exclaimed as he played a card without looking at it and smiled up at Bella.  “How wonderful!—Miss Bennet, so glad to see you!”

She curtseyed at the door and the two young women looked up.

“Allow me to introduce Mrs. Hurst,” Darcy said, indicating the slightly elder woman, of an age with Jane, “and Miss Bingley.”  They both stood and curtseyed to her.

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were both elegant.  They both had deep ginger hair, green eyes, and freckles alike with Bingley.  Mrs. Hurst was wearing deep green silks and a matron’s bonnet in white lace while Miss Bingley was wearing deep crimson with her hair elegantly coiffed.

“Miss Bennet,” Miss Bingley greeted, coming up to her and reaching for her hand.  “We have heard so much about you, the first of our new neighbors!  We quite depend on you to be our guide to Hertfordshire.”

Bella pinked at the compliment.  “Thank you, Miss Bingley,” she finally managed to say.  “I hope Hertfordshire proves to be all you hope it will be.”

Mrs. Hurst moved to the bell and pulled it, a butler immediately appearing as if he had been lurking, and she quickly ordered tea.  She did not say it was for six, but the butler seemed to already know and withdrew quietly.

Miss Bingley led Bella to a couch and sat them both down upon it.

Darcy withdrew to a chair on Miss Bingley’s other side and Bingley affably sat down on a couch opposite with Mrs. Hurst.

Mr. Hurst remained on the other side of the room, drinking his port.

“We understand,” Mrs. Hurst began, “that you and your sister, Miss Mary, are the youngest of four sisters.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed.  “We came out just this April, although it was before our birthday.  Mama thought Sir William Lucas’s sixtieth birthday was the correct occasion.”

“Quite right,” Miss Bingley agreed.  “Such a wonderful occasion, I am certain.  But tell me.  I wish to know of beaus.  Louisa is quite well settled.”  She and Mrs. Hurst exchanged a glance.

“We well know, Caroline, you wish to be the next Viscountess of Bridgerton!” Bingley exclaimed.

“Oh, hush,” Miss Bingley teased as the tea was brought in.  “We must not excite comment.  Viscount Bridgerton is a well known bachelor.”  She took the teapot and poured hot water in it and swished it around before emptying it.  It seemed Miss Bingley—and not Mrs. Hurst—was playing hostess for Bingley. 

“Well,” Bella began carefully.  “There is the elder Lucas boy, though he is not as refined.  He is one and twenty himself and enjoys a dance though I am not certain he is looking for a bride—but he is quite the beau.”

“He and his younger brother leave apples for you and your sister, do they not?” Darcy remembered.

“Yes.  As I said, quite nice for a beau but nothing more serious.  Oliver Hatfield has a fine orchard and is always a capable dance partner.”

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Hurst remarked.  “I saw the orchard when I was surveying the grounds.  You noticed it, did you not, Caroline?”

“I believe I did.”  She handed Bella a dish of tea.  “Do take a tart, Miss Bennet.”

Bella took what appeared to be an apple tart.

“Anyone else of note?” Mrs. Bingley asked once she had served Darcy.  She had quite ignored Mr. Hurst although there was a cup for him. 

“Of note?” Bella parried.  “Only Mr. Somner.  He has quite the estate on the far side of Meryton.  He is a widower with a young daughter.  He is always sure to ask Jane for a dance.”

“And which of your sisters is Jane?” Darcy inquired, curious.

“Jane is the eldest,” Bella told him, leaning a little around Miss Bingley to look at him more directly.  “Then Elizabeth.”

“And your estate?” Miss Bingley inquired delicately.  “Your father has four daughters.”

“Entailed to a cousin,” Bella replied carefully.  “I am afraid Mary and I were Mama’s last hope.  I was the last hope as I was the second twin.  I was born dark—”

Darcy looked at her inquiringly.  “Mary and I are exact copies of one another,” she explained.  “However, Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary all are fair while I am dark.  It is quite the mystery.  You shall note it at the Assembly, I am sure.”

Darcy’s verdant eyes were appraising her again.  “I am afraid I cannot picture it.”

“I shall not ask you to, Mr. Darcy,” she assured him.  “You shall merely have to await the Assembly and then the evidence shall be before your eyes.”

Miss Bingley was now appraising Darcy, her pale green eyes calculating.  “We shall have to see it!” she declared.  “Mr. Darcy will have his curiosity assuaged.”

Mrs. Hurst set down her dish of tea.  “I cannot imagine it,” she added to the conversation.  “Charles, Caroline and I all resemble each other.  Mr. Darcy and dear Georgiana are a clear pair.  However, I am ready to be proven wrong.”

Bella took another sip of her tea.  Miss Bingley was solicitous and refilled her dish.

Darcy set his dish down, clearly content to regard Bella.

It was Bingley who asked for her first set.

“I should gladly give you the first,” she answered him with a smile.  He was as boyish as ever in his enthusiasm. 

“And I know Darcy should like your second!”

Bella looked at Bingley in astonishment.  It was not the custom for gentlemen to ask on another’s behalf.

“That is not necessary—” Bella demurred, careful not to look in Darcy’s direction although she had been looking in his general direction on the other side of Miss Bingley for the majority of the conversation.

“I should be happy, Miss Bennet,” Darcy assured her.

She paused, his verdant gaze meeting hers.  Bella could see that he was sincere.  “Thank you,” she murmured.  “I should be honored.”

Mrs. Hurst seemed almost pleased at the situation.  “Mr. Hurst would ask, but he is quite busy with his port,” she assured Bella as Miss Bingley offered another tart.

“I do not expect it,” she assured Mrs. Hurst.

“Not at all,” Mrs. Hurst replied, taking a tart for herself.  “Mr. Hurst, while not impolite, does not always observe the proper courtesies of society.”

“No,” Miss Bingley agreed, not even looking toward her brother-in-law.  “But he will surely dance with Louisa twice and at least once with me, so duty will be satisfied.”

“Indeed,” Darcy agreed, glancing toward the other man.  It seemed to go without saying that Darcy would dance at least once with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst respectively as members of his party.  Politeness dictated it.  Bingley, as their brother, could not dance with either of them.

At the striking of the hour and the darkening of the sky, Bella made her excuses.  She smiled at her hostess before going out into the hall.  Darcy followed her out which was most unusual, and took her bonnet and gloves from the footman before handing them to Bella.  It was a courtesy she certainly did not expect.

She carefully tied her bow and looked up at him while she put on her gloves.  Darcy was quite a bit taller than her, her chin not quite reaching to his shoulder.

“Are you always quite so attentive, Mr. Darcy?” she asked him carefully, holding her breath.  She looked down at her gloves and then flitted her violet eyes up at him, unintentionally coy.

Darcy’s breath caught.  “No,” he answered just as carefully.  “Never in my life.”

Nodding, she turned toward the door, and Darcy followed her out into the sunset.

Nell was waiting on the gravel with steps placed beside her to aid in Bella in gaining the saddle, but Darcy quickly told the groom that it would not be needed.

Bella looked up at him in confusion. 

They both knew that she could climb in the saddle without steps, but they would have made it easier.

She turned to him and curtseyed one last time.  Darcy surprised her by taking her hand and kissing the back of her gloved knuckles. 

Bella stared at him.  No one had ever kissed her hand before.  It took her completely by surprise.  His verdant eyes rose to meet her violet gaze and held for a long moment until, carefully, she took back her hand and reached for the saddle.

Darcy, however, did not step back.  He surprised her again by reaching for her waist and lifting her up into the saddle in the most intimate of embraces.  When Bella was settled, she looked back down at him and their eyes met again, holding, until she finally broke their gaze and urged Nell to move forward.

She told herself not to look back, but as the drive turned Bella looked back at Darcy and saw him waiting there, his hands behind his back, watching her ride away.

Of course, Mama was all a flutter when Bella returned to Longbourn.  Bella tried to answer her questions about Miss Bingley and whether or not she was elegant, but her heart was not in it.

Elizabeth scowled at her over dinner and drank her entire glass of wine in one gulp.

Bella hated when she did that.  It always meant she would be in a foul mood after dinner.

Talk at dinner was all about Bingley and Netherfield and who was of the party and Bella was pestered with questions, but she could not become too angry with her mama as she loved her so dearly.

“Yes, Mr. Bingley asked for my first two dances,” she confirmed, “and Mr. Darcy for my second.”

“Mr. Darcy!  What do we know of him?”

“He is a gentleman from Derbyshire,” Bella told her mama with manufactured patience.  “He is most polite.”

Mary leaned over and whispered into Bella’s ear, “and most handsome.”

Bella felt herself blushing.

Papa certainly noticed and winked at her.  Bella had never seen her papa wink!

After dinner coffee was spent with Mary at the pianoforte with Bella singing alongside her for the pleasure of the family, Jane once again embroidering and Elizabeth pretending to read.  She was not making a good show of it.  Even Bella could tell even though she was concentrating on her breathing. 

When Mary and Bella finally climbed the stairs to go to bed, they snuggled under the covers and pulled the sheet over their head like they always did.

“Well?” Mary asked, her voice quiet as it always was but nonetheless filled with curiosity.

“He came out of the house while Papa was paying his visit to Mr. Bingley and walked with me,” Bella told her in excitement.  “It was he who invited me to tea.”

“But Bingley asked for your first dance,” Mary wondered.

“Perhaps it was his prerogative given that he is the tenant of Netherfield Park?” Bella guessed.  “Perhaps Mr. Darcy must dance with Miss Bingley first as she is hostess?”

“Perhaps,” Mary breathed, clearly thinking.  “He did ask for your second set, though.  You shall dance with him.”

“Indeed,” Bella squealed, unable to help herself.  “He walked me out and he lifted me into my saddle.”

“That is not proper!” Mary was clearly scandalized.

“No,” Bella agreed.  “But is it not wonderful that he wants to be close to me?  I was—I was bold, Mary,” Bella admitted, “and asked if he was always so attentive, and Mr. Darcy said he never was in his life.”

“Never?” Mary checked.

Bella blushed, although it was probably too dark despite the candlelight for even Mary to see.  “No.  Never.”  Biting her lip, she asked, “You do not think he was lying, do you?”

Mary clasped Bella’s hand.  “No,” she promised.  “You are able to discern good character.  Surely you would be able to discern if he were not sincere.”

“What if I am falling in love?” Bella asked in worry.

Mary thought a moment.  “What if Mr. Darcy is falling in love?”

The sisters started to giggle and it was long into the night before they blew the candle out.