Mr. Darcy's Vow

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Taking Bingley’s spacious new chaise between London and Netherfield was far more comfortable than traveling by post. The springs were vastly better, and his back would not ache for a quarter hour after leaving the carriage. However, maintaining a carriage and its equipage cost hundreds of pounds per annum. It was not worth the money in Darcy’s view. He did keep a curricle which he used in Derbyshire for those times when he did not want to travel by horseback, but it was small and did not need uniformed attendants.
When they came near Bingley’s new neighborhood, he pointed out features and landmarks. “That is Oakham Mount, and the estate we just passed is Longbourn. The family had five grown daughters, and I have been told they are all exceedingly pretty. But when I called on Mr. Bennet, the miser did not give me an opportunity to see his daughters."
Longbourn was a decently sized modern brick building with rows of marble columns in front. Darcy smiled. “He was, no doubt, terrified they would see you and run screaming.”
“Yes, but would they run towards me or away?”
“I shall leave it to your vanity to determine how I answer that question.”
“He shall not hide them away forever! Look" — they were passing through a market town, and Bingley pointed at a red building with rows of huge windows — “that is the assembly hall. They are holding a ball tonight — we shall meet the Bennet sisters there.”
“A ball? Tonight?”
“Yes — you shall be able to meet the neighborhood."
“Must I?”
“Now, Darcy, I wish to go — I have been promised the girls are deuced pretty — but I could not abandon you to sit and brood at home. That would make me a poor host indeed.”
“I shall go. But I do not expect to enjoy it — no doubt the room will be buzzing with gossip about Georgiana’s elopement and my inevitable bankruptcy within ten minutes.”
“I’m sure nothing of the sort shall happen. Everyone I have met is very good-natured. This is not London."
Several minutes later they rolled down a fine drive lined on both sides with gnarled oak trees dripping golden leaves. Bingley pointed out the window when they pulled around a small bend. “Look — here it is.”
It was a large building with respectable marble columns, and Darcy counted a row of twelve windows along the gallery. There was a wood over to the side which provided plenty of nesting for the pheasants they would shoot. A small stream flowed through the park, but it was too thin to be used for a cotton mill. The value of the land fit with what Bingley said he was paying. Unless there was something not visible at a glance, Bingley had not been gulled by the landlord and leasing agent.
The carriage pulled up and Bingley exclaimed, “Look — Caroline and Louisa have come out to greet us." He pulled open the window, allowing in a blast of chilly air, to wave at his sisters. "Hello, hello —”
As soon as the carriage pulled to a stop, Bingley leapt out and rushed up to his sisters.
Miss Bingley wore an elaborate silk dress with an expensively embroidered pattern. She stiffly allowed her brother to embrace her. Pushing him away, she said, “Charles, you’ll damage my dress — there is no need for such low enthusiasm.”
Bingley embraced Mrs. Hurst and pointed at Darcy, who had sedately stepped out of the carriage. “Look at who I dragged from London — he is here for rest and relaxation; we shall not let him be annoyed at all — if you see him spend more than two hours in a day at his letters, grab and burn them. I shall depend on you both to help me in my surveillance.”
Miss Bingley noticed Darcy’s frown and cried, “No, Charles! Don’t speak so, you can see Mr. Darcy does not enjoy your joke.” She stepped up to Darcy with a deferential smile. “You can depend upon me. I will not betray you if you write your letters in my presence. I would never interfere with your important matters of business.”
Darcy shrugged. “Thank you. I am glad I do not need to fear my important papers being burned by you.”
“If they are so important,” Bingley spoke laughingly, “you should not spend so much time on them.”
Miss Bingley said, “I believe Mr. Darcy spends so much time with his papers because they are important. You would do well to adopt his seriousness, Charles.”
“Yes, Charles,” Darcy said, “you should be more like me. Miss Bingley knows I am a paragon who is worthy of universal imitation.”
Bingley grabbed his sister’s arm and started to walk the group into the house. “Don’t tease my sister. Caroline, feel free to steal Darcy’s papers and burn them whenever you will. He’d like the challenge of keeping them hidden.”
Darcy said, “I would not.”
"You would too.” Bingley replied with a bright sunny grin.
Darcy grinned back, he probably would.
Miss Bingley disentangled her arm from her brother’s and took Darcy’s arm. “I am determined you shall enjoy your stay. I put you in the room in that tower” — she pointed to an addition out jetting from the main house — “it has an excellent view of the woods, like from your second floor sitting room at Pemberley. Mr. Darcy, I was shocked to hear what Georgiana did. We are all your friends, no matter what others might say, you are fine and decent, and you did your best to raise her. ‘Tis not your fault.”
“If not mine, whose? I shall not blame Georgiana; she was — she is but a child.”
Miss Bingley jerked her head around. “You do not blame her? Surely you have no wish to see her or communicate with her again."
“I cannot cease to love my sister because she — I remember her as a babe."
They entered the warm vestibule of Netherfield. Miss Bingley let go of Darcy’s arm and tilted her head to the side. “But was not — Mr. Wickham was the son of your father’s steward, was he not? Surely you could never accept such a low born man as your brother. You would not, right?”
Darcy examined Miss Bingley’s face curiously. So this is what it took to scare her off. She would chase someone whose sister married a servant, but if he planned to associate with that servant as an equal, it would be too much.
“I would.” Without waiting for a response Darcy walked over to Bingley and said, “If you expect me to go to your assembly tonight, we will need to get my trunks upstairs, so Judson can get everything prepared for me to dress.”
Darcy remembered his little sister as an affectionate child embracing him. If it would protect Georgiana, he would shake Wickham’s hand and call him brother. But Wickham despised him as much as he despised Wickham.
Georgiana was lost. She belonged to her husband.

*****

In a rural neighborhood with a decided surplus of ladies relative to gentlemen, the entry of any eligible man into the neighborhood placed a sparkling ‘what if’ in the minds of every unmarried lady. What if this new gentleman was her future husband?
Maybe he would sweep her off her feet and carry her to his castle, or, even better, his large well-furnished modern estate. Naturally, the ladies of Longbourn dressed with unusual care the night of the assembly when they would meet Mr. Bingley. Naturally, their eyes turned and carefully scrutinized the entry of Mr. Bingley’s party.
Jane’s eyes were caught by Mr. Bingley himself; he was a handsome gentleman with easy manners and a ready smile. He charmed all he spoke to and, to Elizabeth’s pleasure, singled out Jane as a particular partner. Elizabeth’s own eyes were caught by his tall, dour-faced companion.
The instant she saw him, Elizabeth enthusiastically told herself he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Tall, well-muscled, with an erect bearing, and black hair that fell over his forehead. He was very pleasant to look at. But — did he ever smile? What would he look like if he did?
While Elizabeth admired Mr. Darcy, her mother walked up and pointed openly at the gentleman. “Heavens! Lady Lucas just told me the whole history of Bingley’s friend — he stands there haughtily, but he is a bankrupt, and his sister eloped with the steward’s son!"
“No! That cannot be true."
“It shocked me exceedingly as well. But be assured it is true."
“He, a bankrupt? I do not believe it — there is something in his face which proclaims he would not be so extravagant.”
“’Tis his father’s fault. He has a great estate in Derbyshire, but his father gambled away almost the whole value of it. Mrs. Long visited the house on her tour of the north. It was once as magnificent as Chatsworth but now is grimy and collapsing into ruins. He barely held on to the estate, and when his sister ran away, he lost everything when he paid out her dowry. He shall be forced to sell the family lands and live with Bingley as a penniless dependent.”
Elizabeth hoped the story was exaggerated. No wonder he never smiled.
“Look at him: He stares about like he is above us and does not want to talk to anyone, just because his uncle is an earl. That does not make him better than us. He has no right to be so exceedingly proud. Look at Bingley dancing with Jane. They make such a handsome couple. I do hope Bingley doesn’t let that man impose on his generosity; it would be difficult for his wife.”
“Mama!" Elizabeth was angry at her mother’s heartlessness. This was a man who had lost everything due to the actions of his relatives; he deserved their sympathy.
“It is early to form expectations — but Bingley is very taken with Jane. Look at how they smile at each other. I always knew she could not be so beautiful for nothing.”
Mr. Darcy remained quiet and uncommunicative through the night, and he only danced once with Bingley’s older sister and once with the unmarried sister, Miss Bingley.
That alone was enough to set the neighborhood against Mr. Darcy. But a tale of scandal meant he was faced with derision. Everyone thought his character must be ghastly.
Papa would laugh if he was here. It was human nature to believe the unfortunate deserved their fates. It was not funny this time.
Their low opinion of Mr. Darcy was wrong.
Elizabeth only needed to look at him to see it. He was not unpleasant or excessively proud. He was perhaps proud, but a man born to such a great estate and with a peer as an uncle had a right to be proud. He faced poverty, scandal, and the scorn of society with a quiet dignity.
Elizabeth thought his manner marked him as naturally awkward. When the scandal was added to a retiring nature, it was natural he would not wish to converse with new persons.
Elizabeth’s eye turned towards him every time she wasn’t dancing; he was uncomfortable and… sad. Did he care for his sister? He must. It was terrible of that girl to do such a thing to her brother.
One time Elizabeth and Darcy’s eyes met, Elizabeth’s heart leapt, and she gave Mr. Darcy a small smile. He returned it for a brief second but then turned away. Elizabeth blushed at being caught but continued to watch him surreptitiously. Near the middle of the evening, as she stood in the line of dancers and waited for a set to begin, she saw Mr. Bingley approach his friend and whisper something which made Mr. Darcy break out into a smile filled with delightful warmth.
Watching Mr. Darcy so absorbed her that Elizabeth missed when the music started and needed to apologize to her partner.
When Elizabeth was forced to sit out a dance due to a lack of partners, she sat behind Mr. Darcy. She laughed at herself; he had not spoken a word to anyone outside his party, yet she was already infatuated.
She was ridiculous.
Mr. Darcy stood with his heavy, thoughtful frown. Hopefully he would turn to look at her, request an introduction, and offer to dance the next set. Even if he did not, the view of his back and the neat fall of his tailcoat was compelling.
The seat of his coat was shiny from wear. Why did wool garments age like that? Cotton or silk would fray and lose fibers from the weave, but they did not change in the way wool did. The coat must be at least three or four years old. Very unfashionable, but his disregard for the dictates of fashion made Darcy handsomer. He naturally created the effect of careless indifference that some dandies spent hours attempting to imitate.
Mr. Bingley walked up to Mr. Darcy and said loudly, “Come, Darcy. I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”
“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room, with whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”
“I would not be so fastidious as you are for a kingdom!” Mr. Bingley shifted his weight and seemed to see what Elizabeth thought was clear: Mr. Darcy truly wished to be left alone. “Come, I know you wish to brood in solitude — but you did not come to Hertfordshire to stand about like a bear. Several of the girls here are uncommonly pretty.”
“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room.”
Elizabeth could not help but be pleased at the praise of Jane. Bingley’s reply was everything she could wish for her sister: “Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld!” Elizabeth’s heart leapt as Mr. Bingley continued, “But there is one of her sisters sitting down behind you, who is very pretty, and I daresay, very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”
“Which do you mean?” Darcy turned around and looked at Elizabeth.
When their eyes met, Elizabeth’s heart raced with a euphoric jolt. Her silly scheme had worked. She would dance with him!
Darcy withdrew his own eyes and coldly said, “She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me.”
Elizabeth lost the rest of their conversation in a surge of mortification. She had been caught out and rejected. Her cheeks flamed. It hurt. She wanted to either cry or claw at him.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She normally was the one who discouraged unwanted suitors. She hadn’t known being told you were not handsome, just tolerable, could hurt so much.
He shouldn’t have been so rude. She was never rude. Not like that.
Disagreeable, horrid man.
He was repulsive. Every nice thing she had thought about him was clearly false. He was worse than everyone said. Most men liked her appearance very much. Most thought she was handsome enough to tempt. He must be insensible if he could not see that she was far better looking than just tolerable.
Bingley’s conversation with Darcy had ended. Elizabeth stood with her colour high and gave Mr. Darcy a slighting incline of her head when he turned to look at the noise, and then she pranced towards Charlotte.