Excentryke's Musings

Title: The Wrong Gentleman
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Series: Pride & Prejudice / Twilight
Pairings: Bella/Bingley, Bella/Darcy, Jane/Mr. Collins, Elizabeth/Wickham
Rating: PG
Word Count: 9k
Warning(s): horrible Elizabeth, shy Bella, changeable Mr. Darcy, Bella was always a Bennet, Bingley loves Bella and not Jane
Author’s Note: I wrote this in one night because my sister is being horrible to me.  You’ll see a little of our interaction in Elizabeth and Bella.  I’d like to think I’m kind of Bella.  I can, however, play cards.
Summary: When Bingley comes to Netherfield, he notices small, shy Bella and not Jane, and soon Darcy notices her too…

The Wrong Gentleman

I

“Where are my gloves?” Elizabeth popped her head into Bella’s room and she looked up from her vanity.  The reflection showed a thin girl with dark waves of hair and violet eyes.

“Do not look at me, Lizzy,” Bella responded.  “I do not have them.”

“But they are missing,” Elizabeth pouted.  She was a tall girl with pale blonde hair and deep blue eyes.  She looked nothing like Bella, but favored their elder sister and their mama.  “They are not in my bedchamber.  If I do not have them—”

“Well, I did not take them,” Bella returned, focusing again on her dark reflection.  She chewed her bottom lip and wished she were a little prettier.  “Perhaps you should ask Jane.”

“I would ask Jane,” Elizabeth conceded, “but she is already downstairs in the parlor.”  With that she was gone.

Bella did not spare another thought toward the missing gloves.  They would surely be found in the wrong drawer.  She looked back at her reflection and despaired again.  She was wearing a very pretty dress in deep red (her sisters favored other colors), which highlighted her violet eyes, but she could barely be called ‘tolerable.’

“Catherine Isabella.”  This time it was her mama.

Bella looked up and smiled.  “Is it time to depart?”

“Quite, my dear.”  Mama was a pretty woman, who looked the copy of her eldest sister Jane though a good two decades older, with pale blonde hair.  Mama’s deep blue eyes softened as she looked at her youngest daughter.  “You look quite well, Catherine.  Elizabeth has lost her gloves, but I have told her to take another pair.  The carriage is ready.  The Assembly awaits.”

Bella took a deep breath.  Tonight was the night of the Assembly and, if neighborhood rumor was to be believed, a Mr. Bingley was to be present with four gentleman and seven ladies in his party.  Mama had been quite enraptured at the initial report.

Taking her rose water and placing it at her pulse point and wrists, Bella stood and followed her mama out of the room and down the hallway.

Elizabeth appeared, disgruntled, and grasping a pair of white gloves that were slightly worn in the fingers.

“There now,” Mama soothed.  “No one will notice.”

Elizabeth cast Bella an accusatory glance.

Of course, as the youngest, Bella was the easiest to blame.  Bella had only come out this past June and was but eighteen years of age.  She had only attended two Assemblies before tonight and was still unsure of herself.

The moon was full that night to light the way of the carriage, and Bella was the last to enter the carriage.  She was certain to pick up the hem of her red dress and settled next to Mary, who looked unhappy at the prospect of an Assembly.

The sound of music filtered toward them before they turned the corner to the Assembly Hall, and, as Bella was the last into the carriage, she was the first out.  Elizabeth knocked shoulders with her when she descended the carriage and Bella tripped, stepping on the hem of her gown.  Fortunately, she did not hear it tear.  That would have been a misfortune, indeed.

The Lucas boy asked her to dance, and Bella took to the floor, but she was happy to sit out the next dance.

It was not until Bingley arrived with his party of but two gentlemen and two ladies (the reports had been grossly exaggerated), that the evening took a turn for… the unexpected.

“These are my daughters,” Mrs. Bennet introduced.  “Jane, the eldest.”  She indicated Jane, who was indeed the prettiest.  “Elizabeth.”  Elizabeth curtsied.  She was next to Jane in age and beauty, though perhaps not in temperament.  “Mary is sitting down,” Mama next explained away.  “You shall see her by and by.” 

Bella held her breath.  She was standing upon Mama’s other side, and she did not resemble her sisters.  Most people thought she was an acquaintance when first meeting the Bennets.

“And this,” Mama said, stepping slightly away and indicating Bella with her hand, “is my youngest, Catherine Isabella.  She is just recently come into society.” 

Looking up at Bingley, who had a favorable look about him with his ginger hair and an affable smile, Bella dipped into a shallow curtsey and tried to look pleasant and not frightened.

“Ladies,” Bingley greeted, bowing to all three.  “How lovely it is to make your acquaintance.  How well you all look tonight.”  His attention turned toward Bella with his green eyes and he caught her gaze. 

She paused.

Their gazes held.

It was not a mistake then.

Bella was slightly confused.  Why would Bingley look at her?

“Mrs. Bennet,” Bingley asked, turning his attention away from Bella, “if Miss Catherine Isabella is not engaged in the next dance—” He let the question hang.

Mama blinked at him and then broke into a wide smile.  Looking directly at Bella, she took her by the arm.  “I can speak for my youngest and say she is not engaged for the next dance.  Catherine shall be most happy to stand up with you.”

Bingley turned again to her.

Bella felt that she must speak.  Trying not to appear nervous, she licked her bottom lip.  “Indeed,” she agreed.  “Most happy.”  Her voice sounded a little weak to her, but she had at least answered.

“Indeed,” Bingley answered.  “This is my sister—”

Bella, however, was not paying attention.  She retreated into herself and wondered why she had been singled out.  Jane was much more beautiful, and Elizabeth was witty when she was not accusing Bella of stealing her gloves or a ribbon.

Unfortunately, the song changed, and Bingley was holding his hand out to her.

Glancing at her Mama for a moment (who inclined her head toward Bingley), Bella reached out her hand and placed it in his, moving forward toward the dance floor.  Standing opposite him, Bella was well aware that they had drawn the attention of the room.

She was Bingley’s first pick of the night.  She was (somehow) setting the tone.

The downbeat sounded and Bella opened her left arm in the movement of the dance before settling it at her side and repeating the movement with her right arm.

“Are you the youngest of your sisters, Miss Catherine Isabella?” Bingley asked solicitously.  “Or are there any younger?”

Bella thought Mama had already answered that, but she let the question stand.

“No, I am indeed the youngest of four sisters,” she agreed.  “This is only my third Assembly.”

“Indeed.  And do you enjoy dancing?”

Bella turned and changed positions with the lady next to her.  It was Rachel Goulding.

She paused to consider the question.  “I am not certain.  I have not danced enough to know, Mr. Bingley.”  Bella could feel a blush creeping down her neck and suddenly hated that she was wearing a red dress.  It would just make her seem even more flushed.

Bingley, however, smiled at her charmingly.  “Well, I hope this experience convinces you that dancing is well worth the effort.”

Bella’s head snapped toward him.

His green eyes caught her in the dance, but he did not look away.

“You are quite certain of yourself, Mr. Bingley,” she nearly whispered.

Bingley, however, heard her.  “I am a young man dancing with the most handsome woman in the room.  I should certainly hope I should like to convince her to dance with me again.”

Bella looked up and caught his green gaze again.  He was looking at her so imploringly, begging her to believe him.

But Bella could not believe him.  Bella was not a handsome young woman.  She was nearly plain.  It was Jane who caught every man’s eye.  It was Elizabeth who drew men’s notice.  It was Mama who was stately.  Even Mary, in her plain dresses and tucked behind pianofortes, could be called pretty even in bad lighting.

Not dark, small, mean Catherine Isabella.

“Do you ride, Miss Catherine?” Bingley asked her, looking to reengage her in conversation.

“You know we are neighbors,” she surmised.

“I had been told that Longbourn is but three miles from Netherfield,” he agreed, as they came together in the dance, only to move away from one another again.

“It is easy enough to walk,” she responded.  She paused for a moment and Bingley gave her a moment to collect herself.  “It is Elizabeth who walks.”

“I was not asking about your elder sister, Miss Catherine.  I was inquiring into your habits.”

The song ended and they returned to their places, nodding to each other. 

It was only the end of the first dance in the set, however, so they retained their places.  Bella looked up at Bingley and he was most assuredly gazing at her.  He was awaiting her answer.

“I do not have a horse,” she began carefully.  “I do on occasion borrow one of my father’s farm horses—”

“I quite take your meaning, Miss Catherine Isabella.”

“I do not think that you do,” she added hurriedly.  “I do not ride to pay calls on my neighbors, rather I ride to see the countryside.  Still, it is the harvest, so I do not have a chance to indulge.”

Bingley looked at her, considering, just as the music was starting up.  He bowed to her, just as she curtseyed, and they twirled away in the dance. 

“Do you read, Miss Catherine?” he asked her halfway through.

“Books you should not approve of,” she answered a little boldly, now that she was comfortable with him.

“How do you know that I should not approve of them?  I am a man of two and twenty.  Surely if I were taken to reading, I should read Byron and the like, or do you think me too fastidious?”

“If you should read,” she quoted back at him.  “I take it you do not read at all.”

He smiled at her, his green eyes sparkling.  “I see that you have found me out.”

Bingley led her from the dance when it was finished and fetched her a glass of lemonade, and only left her side to speak to one of the gentlemen in his party.  Bella had been lost in her own head when Bingley was introducing the other members of his party, so she was uncertain of his name, but Bella was incurious.  He was certainly handsomer than Bingley, but Bella did not care for such considerations.

Still, Bingley was only gone for the breadth of one dance, and in the second half of the evening (after he had danced once with Jane for the sake of politeness and another with Charlotte Lucas), he asked Bella to dance again.

“It was such a triumph!” Mama declared when they returned home for the evening.

Mr. Bennet was sitting in his chair, smoking a pipe, a book in his hand, and appeared uninterested.  He did not even ask.

“Mr. Bingley was present.”

“Indeed he was,” Jane agreed, sitting down in a window seat.  “Papa, you really must attend.”

“Must I?” Mr. Bennet asked.  “I suppose he danced with you, Jane.”

“But once,” she replied with a smile, looking over at her youngest sister, who had just come in after taking off her cloak.  “However, he danced with Catherine Isabella twice, fetched her a lemonade, and spoke to her nearly all evening.”

A considering look came into Mr. Bennet’s eye as he regarded Bella.  “Is this true, Catherine?” he asked, as if he only just realized she were present.  “Mr. Bingley took a fancy to you?”

“It is not Mr. Bingley whom we should speak of,” Elizabeth interrupted, throwing herself down on a couch dramatically.  “It is of his friend, Mr. Darcy.”

Bella wondered which one that was, the handsome one Bingley had a private conversation with, or the small fat one who seemed to drink a great deal of wine.

“What of Mr. Darcy?” Mama inquired, taking up a dish of tea.  “I know he slighted you, Lizzy, and I should not dance with him again even if he should ask you—”

“Mr. Darcy slighted my Lizzy?” Mr. Bennet inquired, his attention now on his favorite daughter.  “What did he say?”

“He said I was ‘barely tolerable’ in my hearing and that Jane was the only handsome girl in the room.”  She gave a sly look toward Bella.  “He wondered why Mr. Bingley was wasting his time on a small dark creature like Catherine Isabella all evening.”

Bella caught Elizabeth’s deep blue gaze and did not look away.  The second part was certainly true. Elizabeth did not have to repeat Mr. Darcy’s cruel words, however.

“Catherine Isabella,” Mama interrupted harshly, “is quite pretty when you look at her in the correct light, and if Mr. Bingley likes a dark face, then we should be pleased for Catherine.  It is our good fortune that we have a dark daughter and not just three fair ones.  Catherine Isabella quite effectively caught him.”  She laughed happily to herself.  “Perhaps our Catherine will be the first of you that shall be married.”

Bella’s breath caught in horror.  She did not want to be married!  She was barely eighteen!  She was far too young!  “Mama!”

“Do not look at me like that, dear one,” Mama soothed, “there are several weeks if not months before such an eventuality shall take place.”  She patted Bella on the cheek.  “Now, to bed with you.”  She stood and looked around the room.  “All of you.  To bed.  Now.” 

Jane dutifully got up from the window seat and kissed both her parents on the cheek.  She took up a candle and went up to bed.  Mary quickly followed her.  “I did not dance once,” Mary declared.  “I do not see why I need be out in society.”

“Because you are nineteen,” Mama answered her, “and if you are not out, Catherine Isabella cannot be out.  Now, off with you.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

Bella quickly took a candle and followed her two sisters up the stairs.

She could hear Mama arguing with Elizabeth about the necessity of going to bed.  Elizabeth never liked being sent to bed as if she were a child.

When she entered her small bedchamber under the eaves, Bella sat down at her vanity and looked at her face.  It was not a handsome face.  She looked like a ghost, she was so pale, with her dark violet eyes and even darker hair.  How could Bingley have taken a liking to her?  It baffled her.

Blowing out the candle, she climbed into bed.

She liked Bingley.  However, she could not see herself marrying him.  With her thoughts in a quandary, she fell into a fitful slumber.

II

It was another fortnight until Bella saw Bingley again.  She did not pine for him or pick daisies in the garden.  She did not speak of him to Jane or sigh to herself as she read poetry.

—She did, however, read poetry.  A great deal of poetry.

The horses were being used for the farm so after breakfast on the Thursday after the Assembly, Bella took a book of Thomas Gray and followed the road to the West until it veered off into the woods.  She broke out into the fields and found herself a rock to sit upon and read her poetry.

Elizabeth found her.  “Daydreaming of Mr. Bingley?”

“Cursing Mr. Darcy’s name?” she inquired back.

Elizabeth sighed and plucked a flower, picking it apart.  “I should not know why you should have all the good fortune.”

Bella turned the page, not because she was reading, but she wanted Elizabeth to know that she was not listening particularly.  “Mr. Bingley is not my good fortune.  He shall forget about me by the Lucas’s party.”

“Shall he though?” Elizabeth asked no one in particular, as she continued to destroy her flower and sat down next to Bella.  “What is it that you read?”

Showing her the book, Bella told her, “Thomas Gray.”

“I do not care for Thomas Gray.”

“You should have brought your own book then.”

“You are most likely correct,” Elizabeth sighed, throwing her flower away from her.  She leaned over and picked another.  “Do you think that Oliver Hatfield fancies me?”

Bella regarded her sister.  “Did he not ask you to dance?”

“Only the once,” Elizabeth admitted, tearing the petals off this flower.

“I believed I saw you speaking.”

Elizabeth pushed a stray blonde curl out of her eyes.  “For but a few moments.  He left me with Charlotte Lucas and it was then that Mr. Darcy slighted me.”

That, then, added the sting to Mr. Darcy’s rejection.  Oliver Hatfield had already abandoned Elizabeth.  It was an added insult to injury.

Bella turned another page, not really seeing the printed letters.  “I am sorry, Lizzy.  Surely Mr. Hatfield will be at Lucas Lodge.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth sighed.  “I hope you are right.”

“There is no reason why he should not be present.”

“No,” Elizabeth agreed.  “No reason.”

The two sisters fell into silence.  Bella began to read her book of poetry in earnest and after a quarter of an hour, Elizabeth wandered away, most likely wanting a walk.

Oliver Hatfield was indeed at Lucas Lodge and did indeed speak to Elizabeth.

Bella was drinking a dish of coffee with milk when the Netherfield party arrived.  Once again there were three gentlemen, one of them being Bingley, and two ladies.  Bella was still uncertain of all of their names.  Bella was not presumptuous enough to catch Bingley’s eye, but it was but two minutes after Bingley greeted his hostess than he came up to her and greeted her, taking her hand between his two larger ones.

“Miss Catherine Isabella, how wonderful it is to see you again.”

Curtseying, she gave him a shy smile.  “Mr. Bingley.  You seem in good spirits.”

“Excellent spirits,” he agreed, taking her dish of coffee and setting it on a nearby table, “now that I am here.”  Pausing, he seemed to be searching for a subject.  “Have you been well this past fortnight?”

“Quite well,” she agreed.  “And yourself and—your party?”  Looking around her, she saw that one of the Netherfield number, a young lady dressed elegantly in the latest fashions, was speaking with her sister Jane.

“Ah yes.  That is my sister, Caroline.  I believe I introduced you at the Assembly,” Bingley helpfully supplied. 

“It was such a crush,” Bella tried to explain away, turning back to Bingley, biting on her lower lip.  “Are both ladies in your party your sisters?”

“Yes,” Bingley told her, pointing out the other lady, who was indeed a woman of youth and barely older than Jane.  “That is my sister Louisa, that is, Mrs. Louisa Hurst.”

“I know you have a friend, Mr. Darcy,” Bella continued, scanning the crowd.

Bingley looked around and they found Darcy positioned right in front of a mirror, but his strong gaze was angled to look directly at them.  Bella was so surprised, her breath caught when their eyes met in the glass, violet to green, and she quickly looked away.

“Y-yes,” Bingley tried to explain away, as he angled Bella away toward him.  “That is Darcy.”

“I see.”  Bella felt clearly shaken.

Bingley looked at her worriedly.  “Darcy is of strong opinions.  Do not let him worry you.”

“No,” Bella whispered.  “I—I know he does not approve of Elizabeth, or at least does not think her handsome.”

Bingley looked at her in shock.

Bella paled.  “That is to say—”

“Miss Catherine Isabella, are you relaying to me that your sister, Miss Elizabeth, it is to say, overheard my friend Darcy’s comments—?”  Bingley looked positively distressed.

Biting her lower lip, Bella glanced away, entirely uncertain what to say.

“Miss Catherine, I can only apologize—”  He reached out to her and took her hand.  “If I could apologize to Miss Elizabeth without breaking the rules of propriety, I would—”

“Mr. Bingley,” Bella tried to interrupt, but Bingley was positively beside himself. 

“I assure you that Mr. Darcy does not disapprove of you.”  This, Bella knew, was an untruth.  Bingley must believe that Elizabeth must not have relayed Darcy’s opinion of her.  “If he did disapprove of you, I would reprimand him in the harshest of terms—”  So, Bingley had reprimanded him.  That was worth some consideration, even though Darcy only spoke the truth.

“Mr. Bingley—”

“Miss Catherine.”  Bingley’s green eyes looked into hers imploringly.  “You must believe me.”

She took her hand back quickly and glanced around her, relieved to see that only Darcy had observed them.  “We will be noticed.”

Bingley looked stricken.  “I apologize.”  He cast his eyes around the room and Bella noticed that they held with Darcy’s for several long moments before he returned his attention to Bella.

Mama cast her gaze toward them and smiled to herself before returning her attention to Mrs. Goulding.

Bella sighed in relief.

“May I fetch you another dish of coffee?” Bingley asked her solicitously.

Bella’s discarded dish was on a side table and was undoubtedly cold.

“Indeed,” she agreed, attempting to smile.  “With a bit of milk, if you please.”

“Indeed, Miss Catherine Isabella.”  He gave her a boyish smile and left her for the coffee table.

Bella cast her eyes around the room and caught in the mirror again.  Darcy was undoubtedly regarding her through his reflection, his verdant gaze steady and uncompromising.  She held his eyes for several long moments, refusing to be the first to look away, but Bingley broke her concentration when he stepped in front of the mirror and handed her a cup of hot coffee.

She smiled at him and returned her attention to him.

“Have you had any chance to ride the past few weeks, Miss Catherine?” he inquired solicitously, only casting a brief glance back toward Darcy who had turned his attention toward Caroline Bingley who had now approached him.

“No,” Bella told him, the two of them now withdrawing into their private conversation.  “The horses have been needed for the farm.”

“I hope you have not been kept too long indoors.”

Taking a sip of her coffee, which did not quite have enough milk, Bella forced herself to smile.  “Indeed not.  I have taken to the nearby fields with a book of Gray when the weather has allowed.”

“I have not read Gray,” Bingley admitted.

This was slightly disappointing.  “Have you not?”

“No.”  Bingley looked at her hopefully.  “Would you recommend him?”

Mary had brought music to Lucas Lodge and, as soon as Sir William would allow, took to the piano forte and began to showcase her abilities.  The guests moved between each other, all neighbors who had known each other for years, but Bingley retained Bella’s attention.  No one called for a dance, but at one point Elizabeth did move toward Darcy.  He was still standing at the mirror and, occasionally, Bella would sneak worried glances at him.  She caught an exchange between him and her sister, facilitated by none other than Sir William Lucas, but naught seemed to come of it.

When the Bennets were all back in their carriage, Mama declared the night a success.  Bella allowed her Mama’s happy chatter to wash over her as she looked out the carriage window at the full moon. 

She did not dream of Bingley that night.

Instead, she dreamed of forests and rain and horseless carriages.  It was a strange nighttime vision, and when she woke up, the name “Edward” was on her lips.  She touched her mouth in confusion and wondered who this “Edward” should be, but gave it up for lost.  It was just a dream.

She turned over in her bed, her dark hair falling around her, and instead thought of Darcy.  It was with his verdant gaze in her mind that she drifted back to sleep.

III

Jane received an invitation from Netherfield.  Miss Bingley asked her to dinner as the gentlemen were to dine with the officers, now that the militia were quartered in Meryton.

“I should like it if Catherine Isabella were also invited,” Mama opined, looking at her youngest daughter, “but I suppose Miss Bingley only has a friendship with Jane.”

“I shall send for the carriage,” Mr. Bennet said.

“Indeed, it looks like rain,” Mama agreed.  “There would be no point for Jane to go on horseback and stay the night.  Mr. Bingley need not see her.”

Bella looked out the window.  She was not certain she particularly wanted to see Bingley, or, rather, his friend.

Weeks passed and Bella did not see Bingley.

When Mr. Bennet received a letter, she did not particularly pay it much attention.  The sender turned out to be their cousin, Mr. Collins, who appeared that very afternoon.

He was a tall man with curling blond hair and light blue eyes.  He very much looked like their Bennet father. 

Mr. Collins had come to Longbourn due to the entail and to make recompense to their family, and that recompense turned out to be in the form of marrying Jane.

Jane seemed unhappy at the prospect, but she deferred to their mother’s wishes and spoke to Mr. Collins at meals and sat beside him in the parlor.

Bella watched them, unsatisfied, and wondered if she and Bingley made such an unlikely couple.

It was suggested one morning that they all walk toward Meryton and Mr. Collins was amenable to the plan.  Mr. Collins escorted Jane, Elizabeth walked with Mary, and Bella walked alone. 

When they arrived in town, there were officers about the shops—along with Bingley and Darcy.  Bingley came up to them, all smiles, inquiring after their health.  His green eyes were bright, and Bella could not help but respond with a tremulous smile.  She tried to seem more certain of herself, but never really managed it.

Her eyes flitted to Darcy, and he was undoubtedly regarding her.

She returned her attention to Bingley.

“What brings you to Meryton?”

Bella indicated Jane and Mr. Collins.  “Our cousin wished for a walk.”

“Ah.”  Bingley looked a little lost.  Mr. Collins was too far away to introduce and was engaged with speaking to Jane about the ribbons in the window of a shop. 

“He is here for a visit,” Bella added, uncertain what exactly to say.  Her dark eyes searched Bingley’s green ones, “from Kent.”

“Ah, Kent.”

Bella was lost for words: “Yes.  Kent.”

Darcy coughed into his hand, drawing her attention away from Bingley again.  His verdant eyes caught hers and they held her gaze.  He seemed disapproving, of her, perhaps, but then why had he drawn her attention away from Bingley?

Bingley, too, was looking at his friend, perplexed.  Turning his attention back to Bella, he tried—“I understand there is to be a card party.”

Bella took one more moment to regard Darcy before returning her attention to Bingley.  “Yes.  It is at my Aunt Philips.  Do you enjoy cards?”

“Oh,” Bingley answered, smiling.  “Heartily, Miss Catherine.”

Bella returned her attention to Darcy, waiting to see if he would have any words to add to the conversation, but he only regarded her silently.  It was most perplexing.  Why should he regard her if only to look on her to disapprove?

A man with the officers laughed and drew Darcy’s attention.  His face darkened.  “We should escort Miss Catherine home,” he suggested.

“Oh?” Bingley inquired, looking around.  “Are the Misses Bennet finished with their shopping?”

The Misses Bennet were not finished with their shopping.  Jane and Mary had gone into the milliners’, escorted by a boisterous Mr. Collins, and Elizabeth was speaking happily with the officers.  Darcy was now looking at Elizabeth with disapproval.  At least he was no longer regarding Bella in such a fashion.

“I—” Bella licked her lower lip and swallowed fearfully.  Darcy returned his intense gaze to her and she almost quaked in her slippers.  “I—” she took a deep breath.  “I was to go to the booksellers with Elizabeth—” she rushed out, looking away.

“Miss Elizabeth is engaged,” Bingley pointed out, not noticing Darcy’s disapproving look, “but I shall escort you.  Darcy—”

Darcy was regarding the officers disdainfully.  They seemed to have his attention and not Elizabeth who was speaking with them.  “—Yes.  Books.”  He returned his attention to Bingley and then Bella.  “I shall tie up the horses.”

With that, Darcy took the reins from Bingley and Bella, not certain what to do, was escorted inside the booksellers by Bingley.

Once inside she gravitated toward the poetry section.  Bingley was looking around as if he did have a particular subject in mind. 

Bella allowed her fingers to run over the spines of the books and picked out one by Pope that she had not read.  Flipping through it, she glanced at the dedication before turning the page. 

Bingley came up beside her and asked, “Find anything?”

Her breath caught at his nearness.  “Perhaps,” she whispered, closing the book quickly.  She turned to him, dark eyes wide, and looked up at him, as if she were a guilty child. 

He smiled charmingly down at her.  “I will leave you to your browsing.”  Bingley looked like he wished to say more, but he cut down toward the histories.

Bella relaxed slightly.  She put the Pope carefully back on the shelf and allowed her eyes to continue their perusal. 

It was not ten minutes later when a bumbling Mr. Collins entered and called, “Cousin Catherine!  My dear Miss Bennet says it is time to return to Longbourn if we are to have tea.”

Having returned to the Pope, Bella regarded it for a second.

Darcy, who had entered but a moment after Mr. Collins, came up to her, plucked the Pope out of her fingers, and went to pay for it at the counter.  “Oh Mr. Darcy—” she tried to object, but he did not even turn to her.  He took out the coinage, paid, and waited for the bookseller to wrap the book in paper.

“Cousin Catherine,” Mr. Collins pressed.

Bella had been confusedly regarding Darcy, Bingley even coming up to her and laying a gentle hand on her lower arm to quell her questions. 

“Miss Catherine Isabella shall be out directly,” Bingley assured him.  He glanced down at Bella with his pale green eyes as if to stop her from commenting and, when Darcy had received the parcel from the bookseller, accepted it from him himself, their eyes holding in a silent message, and Bingley handed it to Bella.  “We shall see you at Mrs. Philips’ card party,” he told her.

Bella glanced between Bingley and Darcy, completely confused at their behavior.

Mr. Collins, however, was impatient.  “Cousin Catherine,” he whined.

His importuning broke her conversation, and she looked over to him.  “I come,” she promised.  With one last look between Bingley and Darcy, she left the shop, parcel in hand, ushered away toward her sisters who were waiting for her.

“How dreadful!” Elizabeth said to her.  “I saw Mr. Darcy follow you in.  What did he want?”

Bella glanced back and saw Bingley and Darcy standing on the steps of the booksellers in intense conversation.

“I do not know,” she answered truthfully.  “The man quite baffles me.”

“He quite baffles us all,” Elizabeth agrees.  She turned from Bella and took Mary’s arm, the little party setting back out on the road from Meryton to Longbourn.

Bella looked one last time at Bingley and Darcy, catching Darcy’s verdant gaze.  He did not seem to look at her to find fault as was his custom.  There was a different expression in his eye, which she could not place.

“Come along,” Elizabeth called.

Turning away, she followed her sisters, aware that both Bingley and Darcy were looking after her.

IV

The night of the card party, Mary claimed she had a headache and said she could not go.  This was quite fortuitous for, with Mr. Collins as one of the party, there were not enough seats in the carriage.

Bella chose to wear a cornflower blue dress, and wore her hair simply, as always, in a severe bun she pulled at the base of her neck.  She did not look tolerable at all.  She was far too pale and far too dark.  Her hair did not even remotely look anything but raven. There was not even a healthy sheen to it of a lighter color.  Sometimes she wondered at her coloring given that Mama and Papa were both so light, along with all three of her sisters.

There was a knock on the door.  Naturally it was Elizabeth.  “I cannot find my pink glove,” she told Bella.

“Still?” Bella inquired, turning from her reflection.  “I told you I did not take it.”

“Jane says she does not have it.”

“Well, it would not be Mary,” Bella agreed, standing from her vanity and picking up her own white gloves.  “I do not know what to say, Lizzy, because I never go into your bedchamber.  I would have thought, since the Assembly, you would have asked Mrs. Hill to look for it.”

Elizabeth looked annoyed.  “I would have thought it would have appeared as you claimed it was merely misplaced.”

Bella sighed.  “I cannot say.”

Elizabeth screamed in aggravation, slammed her hand against the doorframe, and left in a flurry of muslin.  Bella looked after her, glad that show of exasperation was the extent of Elizabeth’s annoyance.  Once, when they were small, Elizabeth had snuck into Bella’s room and cut her hair while Bella was sleeping for a perceived slight.

Then again, there was still the rest of the evening.  Elizabeth could still act out, and she was cunning enough to plan her retribution for the perceived injustice.  It was surprising she had not before.  Perhaps it was because Mr. Collins was a guest in the house.

Preparing to leave, Bella blew out the candles and then headed downstairs.

She was the last to appear.  Mr. Collins was all exuberance and all attentiveness to Jane.  Jane received his compliments with grace, but with no delight.  It was evident that Mr. Collins was going to propose.  Mama would ensure that Jane would accept.

When they arrived at Aunt Philips’, it was quite a crush and the Netherfield Party was already there.  Bingley immediately claimed Bella for a partner at Piquet, their table filling out with Mr. and Mrs. Hurst.

The other Bingley sister struck up a conversation with Mr. Darcy who stood in a corner, who was staring resolutely at their table.  It made Bella quite uncomfortable, although she tried to ignore him.

“Tell me, Miss Catherine,” Mrs. Hurst asked as she laid a card on the table, “is it likely the eldest Miss Bennet is soon to be married?”

Bella glanced over to where Jane and Mr. Collins were playing Hearts with Elizabeth and an officer Bella did not recognize.

Blushing, Bella played a card.  “It would not be correct for me to speculate.”

“No, of course not,” Bingley agreed as Mr. Hurst played a card.  “However, we all look forward to the happy occasion.  Perhaps it shall be a Christmastide wedding.”

Bella looked up at him and caught his pale green eyes.  He winked at her.  Startled, her eyelashes fluttered and she quickly looked down at her cards.  Darcy was still regarding her and she decidedly did not look in his direction.

Mrs. Hurst played a spade.  “Christmastide is such a lovely time of year.  Do you not agree, Miss Catherine?”

“Oh,” it was now her turn to play.  She had a club.  Bella put it down.  “Yes.”  Swallowing, she admitted, “I do so love to go caroling.”

“Perhaps you shall come caroling at Netherfield,” Bingley suggested.

Hurst played a spade.

“What a treat.”  Bingley put down a club.

It was Mrs. Hurst’s turn again.  “And who are your fellow carolers?”

Biting her lip, Bella realized she was out of clubs.  “Oh,” she worried.  “Jane sings.  Rachel Goulding.  Sarah Goulding.  Charlotte and Mariah Lucas.  Miss Hatfield.  One or two of the other young ladies.  Oliver Hatfield sings bass.”

Peculiar.  Bella glanced to the right and noticed that Oliver Hatfield was playing with his sister, not Elizabeth.  Elizabeth was quite happy with her officer and his sparkling green eyes and curly brown hair.  He looked an awful lot like—

Mr. Darcy shifted by the mantle, ignoring whatever the Bingley sister was telling him, and resolutely regarding Bella and her card playing.  That was right.  Bella needed to play a card.  She had a low spade.  She played it.  Darcy’s eyes narrowed.  Mrs. Hurst clapped in joy.  Hurst finished his port and held it out for another although there were no servants.  Bingley’s eyes softened before he quickly checked his cards.  Bella was an abominable card player when she was nervous.

Darcy quickly took a step away from the Bingley sister, who seemed to be trying to whisper in his ear, and approached Hurst.

“You must serve yourself,” Darcy told Hurst when he reached the table.  “Come, I will take your place.”

Hurst looked up confused, but one look at Darcy and he was out of his seat.  “Right, Darce,” he agreed, surrendering his hand. 

Darcy did not even look at it.  He folded it onto the table.

“Bingley, it is only right you play with Louisa, as she is your sister.  Miss Catherine Isabella is losing quite badly, and you cannot save her.”  Darcy looked at him expectantly.

“I beg your pardon,” Bingley sputtered.

“You heard me.”  He went to the back of Bingley’s chair and looked over his shoulder.

Bingley quickly hid his cards.  “You just gained an unfair advantage.”

“Exactly.  Change places with me.”

“You just wish to play with Miss Catherine Isabella!”

Bella was startled.  She looked between Bingley and Darcy in utter bewilderment before looking over at Louisa Hurst.  Mrs. Hurst was regarding them with fond amusement in her eyes, as if she had heard this argument before. 

However, what a peculiar argument to be having—

“I am quite happy with Bingley as my partner—” Bella whispered, glancing down at her abysmal hand.

“Nonsense!” Darcy assured her, pulling out Bingley’s chair with Bingley still in it.  “Out with you.”

“You gentlemen are causing a spectacle,” Mrs. Hurst warned, her attention turning to Bella, “and you are embarrassing poor Miss Catherine.”

“That is not my intention,” Darcy assured them, his verdant gaze turning to Bella. 

“Then take Hurst’s seat,” Bingley told him, “for I shall not give up mine!”

Darcy looked torn.  Returning his attention to Bella, he asked, “If that is what Miss Catherine Isabella desires?”

“I do not,” her voice failed her, and she set her cards on the table.  Clearing her throat, she lifted her chin and tried again.  “Perhaps we should end the game.”

“Oh, heavens no, child,” Mrs. Hurst asserted.  “Darcy, take the empty chair.  It is your turn.  Miss Catherine just played the Four of Spades.”

“Such an abominable card,” Darcy muttered, taking Hurst’s empty chair and looking through the cards.  He picked one and played it.  Bella did not even check.  Darcy turned to her with his intense gaze and their eyes caught.  “We shall have you win the game yet.”

“Your purpose,” Mrs. Hurst interrupted, drawing both their attentions, “is to help me win the game, Mr. Darcy, not Miss Catherine.”

“Then our intentions do not align,” Darcy informed her, returning his attention to Bella.  “Miss Catherine Isabella must win back her pin money.”

Bella lost her pin money, but not for Darcy’s lack of trying.  Bingley kept on casting worried glances between Darcy and Bella and Bella, playing bad card after bad card, kept on wondering what Darcy was even about.

Her attention was drawn a few times to Elizabeth’s officer, who would throw back his head and laugh riotously at a word from Elizabeth.  She was struck by the similarity of looks between him and Darcy and wondered at it.

Darcy ignored the man entirely.

When the night came to a close, Bingley led Bella away and gave her an embarrassed smile.  Darcy watched them, clearly unsurprised, and went to speak to the Hursts, who were preparing to leave for the night.

“I am sorry you lost all your pin money.”

“I did not bring all of it,” Bella told him, “only what I was prepared to lose.”

Bingley smiled at her.  “I am pleased to hear that.  I would have been distressed otherwise.”

“As you can see, Mr. Bingley, I cannot play cards.”

They laughed together.  “No, no, I suppose that is one of your few failings.”

Bella blushed, bit her lip, and looked to the side.

Bingley gazed at her in wonder.  “You are perfection itself.  I am afraid Darcy has finally noticed.”

Looking up quickly, Bella caught Bingley’s pale gaze.  “I know he thinks me small and dark.  Elizabeth told me so.”

Bingley opened his mouth to object, but Bella held up a hand.

“—it is only the truth.  My elder sisters are far more lovely.”

“They are a common beauty, often seen in London and Bath.”

This surprised Bella.  She blinked at Bingley and then shrugged.  “You would know better than I, Mr. Bingley.  I have rarely been to London and certainly do not travel in the circles you do.”

Bingley looked at her imploringly.  “Miss Catherine—”

She lowered her eyes in embarrassment. 

He sighed.  “I hope I might call on you tomorrow.”

Bella looked up quickly.  “You—you wish to call on me?”

“With your father’s permission.”

She swallowed.  She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.  They stood there, locked in silence, until the Goulding girls came up behind them and interrupted them.

“Oh, Mr. Bingley!  Miss Catherine Isabella!  We did not see you there!” Miss Rachel Goulding giggled, looking over at her sister.  “We hope we did not disturb you.”

“No, not at all,” Mr. Bingley told them quickly.  “I hope you enjoyed the card party, ladies—”

It was not long after that the card party broke up and the carriages were called for.  “Well,” Mama exclaimed.  “What a success.  Mr. Collins, I hope you enjoyed yourself most heartily.”

Bella tuned out the answer and went up to her bedchamber as soon as she could.  Changing out of her cornflower blue gown, she took down her hair and changed into her nightgown.

Looking out the window, she thought of Bingley and how he was to call on her in the morrow. 

Although the day had been fine, she dreamt of torrential rain and mountains.  It was as if she was being carried through the forest so quickly that she could not see the trees, but it was only a dream, she reminded herself when she woke in the night and stared into the darkness of the room.  Only a feverish dream.

V

Mr. Bingley did call on the morrow, but he brought his sister, Miss Bingley—the younger of the two.  With them they brought an invitation to the Netherfield Ball, which was to be held on the next full moon, the first Wednesday of November.

Bella looked at the invitation as it was passed around and admired the elegance of the hand.

The invitation included Mr. Collins, as their cousin, and he was sure to engage all his fair cousins for a dance.

Bingley, however, had his own request, the first set and the supper set.  As he engaged her for the supper set, they would eat supper together, and would be regarded by the entire company as a couple.

She swallowed, but quietly accepted, much to her mama’s pleasure.

Since he did not ask her to marry him that morning, he would certainly ask her at the ball.  Mr. Collins most likely had a similar plan for his proposal to her eldest sister, Jane.

What Bella had not been expecting was for Mr. Darcy to ride to Longbourn two days before the ball.

Bella was out in the fields, reading her book of Pope, when he came upon her and dismounted his horse.  She looked up, her eyes shielded from the sun by a bonnet, and grimaced slightly to herself.

If he noticed, he made no comment, but let his horse graze in the field.

“Miss Catherine Isabella.”

“What a fine day for riding,” she remarked as he came up to her.  “I never thanked you for the book of Pope.”

He lifted a hand to negate her thanks.  “You need not.  ‘Twas but a trifle.”

“For you perhaps,” she murmured quietly.  “Not to me.”

His green eyes looked into hers and she felt struck.  “There.  That look.”

This confused her.  “I beg your pardon?”

“You have this unearthly look, Miss Catherine Isabella, a look I cannot penetrate.”

“That cannot be why you disapprove of me,” she whispered, choosing to look away.  “You have disapproved of me since the first.  I was not handsome.”

“I repudiate those words, Miss Catherine.  I wish I had never spoken so out of hand.”

At the fierceness of his speech, she turned back toward him.  “You surprise me,” she realized.

“My actions have been plain—”  He reached out and took her hand.

She looked down at his large, gloved hand and wondered at it.  “Your actions have been perplexing, Mr. Darcy.”  She lifted her eyes carefully and looked into his dark, penetrating eyes.  “You do not look to find fault, then?”

“Only at first, Miss Catherine Isabella.  I have long since looked to admire.”

Her eyes widened and she pulled away from him.  Turning away from him, she turned and went back to the large rock she had been sitting on.

“I was coming to Longbourn,” Darcy told her, “to ask for the second and last dance at the Netherfield Ball.”

She glanced over her shoulder.  “My first and fourth are taken,” she whispered.  The first was claimed by Bingley and the fourth by her cousin, Mr. Collins.

He came up behind her and looked down at her.  “I had hoped to announce our engagement at the ball.”

Her head snapped toward him.  “Mr. Darcy—”

“I do not expect an answer now.  You can tell me at the ball.”  He reached down and Bella sat absolutely still.  Carefully, he reached under her bonnet and kissed her forehead. 

His lips were warm and dry, and Bella closed her eyes.

As he pulled away, she looked up and caught his gaze. 

“I look forward to your answer.”

They shared one final glance and then he walked away back toward his horse.

Bella was stunned into silence.  Who was this strange man who thought she knew him well enough to marry him?  She knew his reputation.  He was from an estate called Pemberley and had ten thousand a year—at least.  But was this enough to marry a man?  She certainly knew Mr. Bingley much better.  She had actually spoken to him and he was kind.  He perhaps did not have an estate—yet—but he had a carriage and five thousand a year—but she did not want to marry him either.

She sat on that rock until it was well past dinner and then slowly made her way home.

Longbourn was all lit up with candles and Mama rushed her into a bath as soon as she entered the front door.

“My dear!  I thought you were beset upon by thieves!”

“No, Mama,” she promised.  “Nothing like that.”

“It is not like you to be out so late.”  She had Hill pour a bucket of warm water over her head.  “Were you lost?”

“Thinking.  Jane will soon be married.”

“You will soon be married,” Mama soothed, as if such a proposition could be soothing.  “Mrs. Bingley!”

Or Mrs. Darcy, Bella thought darkly before she sank beneath the soapy water.  She was not certain which would be the worst.

VI

The officer with whom Elizabeth had been playing cards at Aunt Philips’ card party was new to the regiment, a Lieutenant George Wickham.  Although Elizabeth told no one, Wickham told Elizabeth all of his misfortunes at the hands of none other than Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Esquire of Pemberley in Derbyshire. 

Elizabeth kept these revelations close to her heart.

Mr. Darcy was not well liked in Meryton, and Wickham began to spread these stories of his general woes (without specific details) about the neighborhood, which created whispers—and these whispers reached Longbourn the morning of the Netherfield Ball.

“And I heard it from Mrs. Long that Darcy denied poor Mr. Wickham an inheritance, though what the inheritance was I had no idea,” Mama said as she spread jam on her toast.

Elizabeth smiled into her tea while Bella looked up in shock.  It had been but two days since Mr. Darcy had proposed in the fields just beyond Longbourn.

“Mr. Darcy?” she gasped.  “What inheritance?”

Mama paused.  “That I know not.”  She looked a bit sheepish.

Mary looked up from her reading of Fordyce’s Sermons.  “We must be Christian and not believe the false rumors of society—”

“Oh, Mary!” Elizabeth huffed, putting down her tea.  “I had it from Mr. Wickham himself.  He was to have the living in Kympton, and Mr. Darcy refused it to him out of jealousy as Old Mr. Darcy liked him best.”

Everyone turned silent. 

Jane set down her butter knife carefully so as not to make a sound.  “Mr. Darcy,” she reminded her next youngest sister, “is a great friend to Mr. Bingley, who is a great friend to this family.”  She inclined her head toward Bella.  “It does not do to besmirch his character without knowing all the facts.”

“Yes,” Mr. Collins added, nodding at Jane.  “I think Miss Bennet has the right of it.  Lady Catherine De Bourg—”

Bella went back to her marmalade.  Poor Jane would have to know Lady Catherine De Bourg’s opinion on every subject for the rest of her life.

Of course, when Bella went to get ready that evening for the ball, she found both pairs of her gloves missing.  She looked everywhere for them, but they were nowhere to be found.

“Lizzy!” she called, going into her bedchamber.  “Have you seen my gloves?”

Elizabeth was sitting at her glass, having her hair curled.  “Gloves, Catherine?  What would I know about gloves?”

“Both of my gloves are missing,” Bella told her.  “I know it was you.”

“Well, I would loan you my second pair,” Elizabeth replied airily, “but I am missing a pair.”

Bella was so angry she could scream, but she stared at Elizabeth’s smirking reflection in the glass calmly before leaving. 

“Mary!” she called, going into her other sister’s room, which was under the eaves.  “Do you have a second pair of gloves?”

Looking quite pretty in her white frock with curled hair, Mary was sitting on the bed, reading a book.  She had a pair of gloves laid out on her vanity.  She glanced up at Bella and grimaced.  “Lizzy?” she asked.

“Yes,” Bella sighed, coming in and closing the door behind her.

“You can have my best pair,” Mary promised, indicating the ones on the bed.  “I will wear my old ones.  I am only dancing the third with Mr. Collins and only because it is expected as he will propose to Jane tonight.”

“Oh, Mary, you are an angel!” Bella cried, going to hug her sister.

Mary gave her a small smile.  “We must not disappoint Mr. Bingley.”

Bella paused.  She had not even thought of Mr. Bingley the whole day.  She had only thought of Mr. Darcy and his verdant eyes gazing at her.  Shaking herself, she took the gloves with a smile and kissed her sister on the cheek.  She was ready for the Netherfield Ball.

Mr. Bingley claimed her immediately when they stepped into the hall, bringing her into the dancing.  Mr. Collins was escorting Jane, and Elizabeth was undoubtedly looking about for Wickham (she had completely forgotten her former attachment to Oliver Hatfield).

They danced the first set, and Bingley was kind and attentive as always, and then Darcy claimed her for the second.

His gaze was as heavy as always, but his fingers were caressing as they came together for the dance.  “You have not made a decision,” he rightly guessed.

“How can you expect me to?” she asked him.  “I hardly know you.”

“Then allow me to show you my character during a long engagement.”

Her eyes looked up at him in shock.  “And Mr. Bingley will allow you to stay here after you undercut him?”

“He will understand when I explain it to him,” he assured her.  “The best man will win.”

Bella blushed and looked away, glad that the dance pulled her down the line. 

When it was time for the fourth dance with Mr. Collins, she was nearly silent, glad that Mr. Collins did not require conversation. 

She hid for the fifth and sixth dance, not wishing to share a lemonade with Mr. Bingley.  It was quiet in the small room she found, but when the second dance of the sixth set struck up, a door to the side opened and none other than Mr. Darcy walked in.

“Miss Catherine Isabella—”

Bella had been sitting on a chair with her slippers tucked into the side, but she quickly stood up, assuring that her skirt did not catch.  Her stockinged feet touched the ground and were instantly cold and a shiver passed through her.

“You are cold—” Mr. Darcy worried.

“I took off my slippers,” she explained.

He was immediately upon her, and she craned her neck upward so as to look into his verdant green eyes.  “Oh, Catherine, in vain I have struggled,” he told her, hooking his hand under her neck, “you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Bella’s mouth suddenly went dry, so she licked her lips.  His gaze immediately fell upon them, but his eyes flitted back up to hers.

“Bella,” she whispered.

“Darling?”

“Bella,” she told him, trying to gain her voice.  “My name is ‘Bella.’”

“Beautiful,” he translated, stroking her face.  “How suitable.  At first I thought you were nothing but a small creature, but your inherent goodness makes you so beautiful in my eyes.”

She blinked once, looked down, and then blinked up at him again.

“Say you have considered my proposal.  You are hiding from Bingley—”

“I am hiding from you as well,” she gasped.

“If you agree to be my wife, you need not hide any longer,” he reasoned, the strength of his personality overwhelming hers.

“No,” she whispered, realizing he was right.  “I suppose not.”

“Then you will marry me,” he pushed.  “Dearest, loveliest Isabella.”

She paused, considering, and pulled away from him.  He let her go, and she sat back down in the chair.  Looking away, she realized she would have to choose one or the other—either Mr. Bingley or Mr. Darcy.  Choosing neither did not appear to be an option, and whatever she did, Bella was afraid of choosing the wrong gentleman.

Looking back up at Mr. Darcy, she opened her mouth to answer, but once again, no words came out, and Bella was afraid she did not know what she was going to say.

The End.