Page 13 of Stranded at Michaelmas

That ought to have pleased him without reservation. After all, it was precisely what he had hoped for when he brought his sister to Hertfordshire.

Instead, it left him strangely unsettled.

He had imagined Miss Elizabeth becoming a friend to Georgiana, yet he had given little thought to the fact that such a friendship would necessarily bring Miss Elizabeth more frequently into his own company. If the young ladies became genuinely attached, Miss Elizabeth would no longer be merely an agreeable acquaintance encountered occasionally during visits to Netherfield. She might visit Georgiana in London or at Pemberley. Georgiana would wish to visit her. Their paths would cross with increasing frequency.

The prospect should perhaps have concerned him.

It did not.

Indeed, Darcy found that he liked the idea rather more than he ought.

By the time the Netherfield party made their way towards the great barn that evening, the Harvest Home was just beginning. Looking around him, Darcy recognised two or three other gentlemen who had called upon Bingley during the last day or two. Even with the advantage of his height, however, it took several minutes before he was able to locate the Bennets.

“Oh, brother,” Georgiana said after a moment, “I see Elizabeth and Mary.”

Her tone was considerably more animated than he had heard it of late, and she had been much the same since meeting the ladies the previous day.

“Yes, Georgiana,” Darcy answered. He had spotted them just before his sister, but had not wished to betray his own eagerness quite so readily. “We will make our way towards them.”

The Bennets, as one of the families responsible for the evening’s celebration, had naturally divided themselves amongst the gathering. Mr and Mrs Bennet stood with several of the other landowners near the edge of the crowd, remaining largely in place while tenants and neighbours came to offer their greetings. Lydia stood beside them, looking considerably less pleased by the arrangement.

The three eldest daughters, meanwhile, had taken a more active role, moving easily amongst the tenants and stopping to speak with one family after another. Elizabeth, however, seemed particularly incapable of passing anyone she knew without pausing for at least a few words.

As Darcy watched her make her way through the crowd, she stopped to speak with a young woman whose small son clung impatiently to her hand. The boy appeared far more interested in his surroundings than in the conversation and repeatedly tugged at his mother as he looked towards the gardens.

“Come now, Davy, give your mama a moment,” Elizabeth said with a laugh, bending slightly towards him. “I am certain whatever you wish to explore will still be there after you have allowed your mama to finish speaking.”

The child looked unconvinced, but remained where he was.

Darcy’s gaze briefly returned to the rest of the family. Lydia had not moved from her parents’ side, and he thought he detected a hint of petulance in her expression. He recalled Miss Elizabeth’s mention of her having been returned to the schoolroom recently.

Even from a distance, it was apparent that Elizabeth possessed an uncommon ability to put others at ease. Her sisters were kind as well, or so Darcy supposed, but there was something different in the way Elizabeth spoke to the tenants. She did not merely offer a polite greeting before moving on. She knew their names. She asked after their children and remembered matters they had evidently discussed before. More importantly, she listened to their answers as though they genuinely interested her.

There was nothing condescending in her manner. She did not appear to think of these people merely as tenants of the surrounding estates, but as neighbours she had known for years. In truth, she reminded him greatly of the way his own mother had moved amongst Pemberley’s tenants all those years before, and for one unguarded moment, he almost wished Miss Elizabeth were a woman he might consider for such a role.

But even as the thought occurred to him, two others followed close behind.

First, as a gentleman’s daughter, Elizabeth belonged to the same sphere of society as he did. Her family might possess neither his wealth nor his connexions, but she was unquestionably a member of the gentry. If he were to pursue her, theirs would hardly be an unequal marriage in any meaningful sense.

And second, why should her lack of wealth or consequence trouble him so greatly?

It would not materially lessen Georgiana’s prospects. His sister was an heiress in her own right and would attract honourable gentlemen and fortune hunters alike, as the events of the past summer had already proven. Indeed, Darcy could not help wondering whether Georgiana might benefit far more from having Elizabeth as a sister than from any grand connexion he might secure through marriage. Elizabeth possessed precisely the confidence and discernment Georgiana lacked, but she was also kind enough never to make another feel the deficiency.

And what of himself?

Would he not benefit more from a wife who could truly support him, challenge him when necessary, and share the responsibilities of his life than from one who merely brought additional wealth or consequence to a family already possessing more than enough of both?

For the first time, Darcy found himself wondering why he had ever considered wealth and connexion so essential.

He supplied the answer almost immediately: Lady Catherine.

Although he had never intended to marry Anne and had told his aunt so often enough, he had nevertheless allowed Lady Catherine to shape his understanding of what ought to be required of a Darcy bride. Wealth, family, connexions, position—these were the very qualities his aunt continually cited when declaring Anne so perfectly suited to him, and Darcy had accepted without much question that they ought to matter greatly in his own choice.

But did they?

He had never wanted Anne, despite all the advantages Lady Catherine believed made her ideal. Indeed, when he considered the matter honestly, his cousin possessed few of the other qualities his aunt was so fond of praising in an accomplished woman. Anne’s health had undoubtedly limited her opportunities, and Darcy did not blame her for that, but Lady Catherine had never seemed to notice the contradiction.

Why, then, had he allowed the advantages Anne did possess—her birth, fortune, and connexions—to become the standard by which he judged every other woman?