The Firstborn
Chapter Two
Henry stepped out of Bingley's carriage and looked around him with a smile. What a charming little village, he thought, a great deal like Woodston. His smile faltered a bit. Or like Fullerton. His friends' scheme to distract him from his misfortunes was only successful to a point; he saw Catherine everywhere. She invaded his thoughts at odd moments, and he would sigh and his eyes would grow distant, and Darcy and Bingley would look at one another and shake their heads. They were very worried about their friend, and when he had shown a spark of interest in attending the Meryton village assembly, even Darcy was persuaded to accompany him, although such entertainment was not at all to his fastidious taste.
"Shall we be quite safe here, Mr. Darcy, do you think?" he heard Caroline Bingley ask behind him. This brought the grin back to Henry's face. Miss Bingley was clearly in love with either Darcy or his fortune. Henry had watched her machinations with high glee, and teased Darcy about it incessantly in private. He was rather surprised that Darcy did not give her the cut direct, but rather allowed her importunities to continue. Perhaps he likes her, after all? Henry watched his friend's face carefully; Darcy's countenance showed no particular regard for Bingley's sister, but as this was quite usual for Darcy, anything was possible.
"Demmed silly way to spend an evening," muttered Mr. Hurst, who had stumbled heavily from the second carriage. Henry gazed at him with distaste. He was a wine-sodden, lazy good-for-nothing, who did not have the fortune to support his fashionably dissolute lifestyle but showed no compunction at feeding at his brother-in-law's trough. It astonished Henry that Bingley had not only allowed his sister to marry such a man--although how could he have stopped her? Louisa was of age--but that he continued to allow the sot to deplete his pantry, his cellars, and his woods. Not that the birds were in that much danger from Hurst; he was usually too much in liquor to strike many of his targets. Henry wondered if he should perhaps put a flea in Bingley's ear in regard to Hurst, but he knew that Bingley was far too good-natured, as well as too affectionate a brother, to put his sister and her husband from his house.
Bingley led the way inside, where their hats and cloaks were taken, and they walked down a passage and into a large room lit by a multitude of candles. Jaunty music had swelled and ended as they drew closer, finishing just as they stepped into the room. The laughing dancers froze in their tracks and turned toward the newcomers, and the Netherfield party found themselves the object of every eye in the room.
They all stood there in varying states of discomfort until they were approached by a large man in evening dress. He greeted Mr. Bingley familiarly, and they were all introduced in turn to Sir William Lucas. Henry was amused to notice that their arrival precipitated the arrangement of several whispering groups about the room, with members of each group occasionally detaching themselves to run toward another group and whisper some more, throwing occasional appraising looks at Bingley and Darcy. The hounds have caught the scent, and the hunt is on!
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley stood to one side, contemptuously inspecting the assembled company. This did not surprise Henry at all, for he found the sisters proud beyond his comprehension; they could claim only a succession of tradesmen, however successful, as their ancestors, yet they carried themselves with as much disdainful arrogance as any aristocrat. Miss Bingley in particular excited Henry's firmest dislike. She was contemptuous toward Catherine, whom she had never met, extracting the highest amusement from Henry's engagement to a mere country clergyman's daughter, and her cutting remarks had tested Henry's patience more than once since he had arrived at Netherfield.
Darcy hung back as well, his countenance haughty and forbidding. Henry knew that expression was a cover for the inexplicable reserve that sometimes came upon Darcy in a crowd of people with whom he was not intimate. Henry being who he was, he had little sympathy for the coolness of his friend's manners amongst those of less consequence than Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.
Bingley tugged on Henry's elbow. "Sir William is going to introduce us to those young ladies," he whispered, indicating two girls standing with an older woman. "Do you not think the fair-haired one uncommonly pretty?"
"I am afraid that I must disagree with you, Bingley," responded his impertinent friend. "She is very pretty indeed, but uncommonly pretty? That would indicate that her prettiness lay out of the common understanding of that term, a form of prettiness that would not be recognized by the public. I know you are not unchivalrous; therefore, I must conclude that your language is shockingly imprecise. I suggest that you procure Johnson's Dictionary or Blair's Lectures on Rhetoric for that pathetic assemblage you call a library at Netherfield."
"Tilney, you are the only man I know who would talk of Johnson and Blair in a ballroom. Here is Sir William; do come along!"
Despite his teasing, Henry was willing enough to be introduced to the young ladies, both of whom were indeed very pretty, and he walked toward them with Bingley. To his surprise, Darcy was at their heels.
"Mrs. Bennet," Sir William was saying to the older woman, "Mr. Bingley has expressed a wish to become acquainted with you and your daughters."
"Sir, that is very good of you," simpered Mrs. Bennet. "This is Jane, my eldest, and Elizabeth. Mary sits over there, and Kitty and Lydia, my youngest, you see there dancing. Do you like to dance yourself?"
Henry ducked his head before Mrs. Bennet could see his grin at her rather bald hint. When he had his expression under control, he looked up to meet the gaze of the dark-haired girl, Miss Elizabeth, whose brown eyes had a twinkle that matched his own. Henry smiled at her, and her own smile widened in response. He found himself staring at her, and finally wrenched his gaze away. Have I met this woman before?
"There is nothing I love better, madam," Bingley was saying in his usual enthusiastic manner, which sometimes reminded Henry of his Newfoundland puppy. "And if Miss Bennet is not otherwise engaged, may I be so bold as to claim the next two dances?"
Miss Bennet's delight at his request shone in her expression. "I am not engaged, sir."
"Good," said Bingley, still grinning, his eyes locked with Miss Bennet's. Poor Eleanor, thought Henry in some amusement, I suspect that Bingley may be lost to her forever.
"You do us great honour, sir," Mrs. Bennet fawned. "Thank the gentleman, Jane!"
Miss Bennet looked down in confusion while her sister murmured, "Mamma!" Henry felt for the girls; he well knew the mortification of having relations for whom one must apologize.
Mrs. Bennet, undaunted by her daughter's admonition, turned her attention to Darcy. "And you, sir? Are you fond of dancing, too?"
Bingley snapped out of his reverie. "Oh, I beg your pardon. Mrs. Bennet, may I present my friends, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Tilney?"
Word of the gentlemen's relative social status must have made the rounds of the whispering groups, for Mrs. Bennet ignored Henry and spoke only to Darcy. "You are very welcome to Hertfordshire, I am sure, sir. I hope you have come here eager to dance as your friend has?"
Darcy bowed, and said rather shortly, "I thank you, madam, I rarely dance."
"Well, let this be one of the occasions, sir, for I wager you will not easily find such lively music or such pretty partners!"
Darcy merely bowed again and walked away. Henry, pained by his friend's rudeness, hastily said, "I am not as disinclined to dance as Mr. Darcy, madam, and if Miss Elizabeth is not engaged for the next two dances, I hereby apply for the honour of being her partner."
Mrs. Bennet continued to glare at Darcy as Elizabeth quietly accepted his offer. Bingley and Henry quickly excused themselves and walked back to where Darcy stood.
"Darcy, what are you about?" Henry asked him. "I know your tendency to be withdrawn in company, but there is no need to be unpleasant to Bingley's neighbours."
As he spoke, Mrs. Bennet's rather piercing voice carried over to them. "Well! Did you ever meet such a proud, disagreeable man?"
Elizabeth's musical voice murmured, "Mamma, he will hear you!" Henry was glad to hear that his first impression of his dance partner was correct; she had a sense of refinement that seemed absent in her mother.
"I don't care if he does! And his friends, disposed to be so agreeable and everything charming. Who is he, to think himself so far above his company?"
Darcy darted a venomous look back toward the Bennet ladies, and Henry took his elbow and steered him away until they could hear no more of Mrs. Bennet's shrill speech.
"Let me be, Tilney." Darcy wrenched his elbow from Henry's hand.
"Gladly. Your behaviour is abominable, sir. I would prefer to not be associated with you at all."
Henry and Darcy glared at one another while a miserable Bingley stood nearby, unable to side with one of his friends over the other and sincerely wishing that they would shake hands and forget the entire incident. Fortunately for Bingley's nice sensibilities, the music started for the next dance, and he and Henry were obliged to claim their partners and enter the set, leaving Darcy to stand to one side of the room, his chin higher and his expression haughtier than ever.
Henry's partner proved as lively as he had hoped. They exchanged remarks on the dance, the size of the room, the weather, and the state of the roads. Miss Elizabeth had a spirited way of expressing herself that delighted him, and he responded in kind, causing her to laugh more than once. Henry needed no more in a dance partner.
"How long will you be staying at Netherfield, sir?" she asked him halfway through the second dance.
"As long as I am able, madam. I have an excellent curate, but I do not like to stay away from my parish for more than a fortnight at a time."
"That is a noble sentiment indeed, Mr. Tilney, especially when you have the company of such good friends as Mr. Bingley to tempt you away from your duties."
"Bingley is indeed a very good friend of many years' standing, as is Darcy." Henry's pique against the latter gentleman was already fading.
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder to where Darcy stood watching the dancers, then turned her gaze back to Henry. "Mr. Darcy's temper does not seem to be compatible with yours and Mr. Bingley's."
Henry sighed. "I assure you that, when he is amongst his close acquaintances, Darcy is perfectly amiable. Unfortunately, he has a tendency to be more reserved in company."
Elizabeth's expression indicated that she would have chosen different adjectives to describe Darcy's behaviour, but she said only, "I am afraid that will not increase his popularity in Meryton. We are a sociable set, and such conduct is not easily excused."
"I should think that his ridiculously large fortune would go a long way toward excusing his conduct with many people," responded Henry impertinently, and Elizabeth blushed and laughed.
"In some quarters, Mr. Tilney, I am afraid that is very true!"
"And alas, a poor, overworked parson like myself is left friendless and forlorn to make his own way in the cruel world," added Henry with a loud, dramatic sigh.
Elizabeth laughed again, a musical sound that Henry liked a great deal. "I hardly think you friendless, sir. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley have condescended to give you their friendship, and such an honour cannot be disregarded." She regarded him appraisingly. "And I dare say that there is a young lady back in Gloucestershire who would consider herself a particular friend of yours."
"Your intelligence is excellent, Miss Bennet," said Henry, laughing. "Although the young lady actually resides in Wiltshire. I see my reputation has preceded me."
"Only that you are Mr. Bingley's friend, that you are a clergyman, and that you are a younger son of a respectable family from Gloucestershire."
The music built to a crescendo and stopped with a flourish. Henry bowed and offered his arm to Elizabeth, who laid a gloved hand upon it. "Then how did you know about my fiancée?"
"I am not sure," Elizabeth confessed. "I had a feeling--I feel as though I have known you for a very long time."
Henry looked down at her, the laughter gone from his brown eyes. "I feel the same way. I meant to ask you, have we met somewhere else, London perhaps, or Bath?"
"I have never been to Bath. When I am in town, I stay with my aunt and uncle in Gracechurch-street, near Cheapside."
Henry knew that neither his father nor his fashionable friends would have stepped an elegant foot anywhere near Cheapside. "Do you attend the assemblies in town, madam?"
"Sometimes. We cannot get vouchers to Almack's, of course, but there are other dances. However, my aunt and uncle live very quietly in general." She was silent for a moment. "What is your fiancée's name?"
"Her name is Catherine Morland. She lives in a village called Fullerton, where her father is the vicar."
Elizabeth repeated the name several times, turning it over in her mind, and finally shook her head. "No, I do not believe that I know Miss Morland." She smiled up at Henry, and he smiled in return, two pair of twinkling dark eyes exchanging unspoken, unconsciously comprehended messages of friendship and trust. "I suspect that we must simply consider this a case of like sensibilities recognizing one another."
She still had her hand on his arm, and he covered it with his own. "I agree, Miss Bennet. And I hope that we shall have another opportunity to discuss our like sensibilities."
"As do I, Mr. Tilney."
Henry's smile grew wider, and he gave her an elegant bow and would have moved away but for the approach of another young lady, plainer and some years older than Elizabeth.
"Mr. Tilney, may I present my very good friend, Miss Charlotte Lucas?"
"Your servant, Miss Lucas." Henry bowed again. "You are Sir William's daughter, I believe."
"That is correct, sir." Miss Lucas looked from Henry to Elizabeth, then back again. "I hope you will forgive my forwardness, Mr. Tilney. Eliza is accustomed to my plain speaking. But I have been watching you dance, and I must say that if I did not know differently, I would think you two brother and sister. You have the same dark eyes and hair, and your mannerisms are very similar."
Henry laughed, not at all offended by Miss Lucas' comment. "Then you would be surprised to meet my sister, madam. She is fair and blue-eyed like my father and elder brother. I favour my late mother's colouring."
Miss Lucas smiled. "Of course I did not mean to say that you were actually related. It is just very curious. Do you not agree, Eliza?"
"Oh, yes. Mr. Tilney and I were just saying that when one meets a person of like sensibilities, one feels as though one has known that person for a very long time. Perhaps our empathy has overflowed into our manners."
"Although I am afraid that Miss Bennet has a much better picture of my character than I do of hers, Miss Lucas. Since you are her particular friend, will you do me the honour of being my partner for the next two dances? Perhaps I can ferret out a few of her secrets, as she has managed to discern mine without benefit of such a roundabout and devious method."
Charlotte laughed; clearly she was as susceptible to the Tilney charm as her friend was. "I thank you, Mr. Tilney. I would be delighted to assist."
Henry found Miss Lucas' manners to be perfectly pleasant, though not as animated as her friend's. When the dances were over, Miss Lucas introduced Henry to her younger sister, a pretty girl named Maria, whom Henry promptly asked to dance. At first, Maria's sweetness and youth reminded him rather forcibly of his first dance with Catherine at the Lower Rooms in Bath. However, Maria's extreme shyness, which manifested itself in monosyllabic replies to his bantering, only brought to his mind Catherine's true excellence of character and made him miss her all the more.
During the second dance, Henry fell silent, his thoughts with Catherine, which seemed to suit Miss Maria perfectly. This unusual reticence allowed him to overhear a conversation between Darcy and Bingley. The latter gentleman, whom Henry was amused to note was dancing once more with Jane Bennet, had left the set in an attempt to persuade Darcy to join the dance.
"Come, Darcy," said Bingley, "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 whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with." Henry sighed; that his friend, whom Henry knew to be genuinely warm and amicable among his intimates, could display the same pride as Bingley's sisters pained him greatly.
"I would not be so fastidious as you are," cried Bingley, "for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them, you see, uncommonly pretty."
I really must procure Johnson and Blair for Bingley, thought Henry. An Oxford man should have a great deal more precision in his speech.
"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Darcy, his glance traveling to Bingley's partner.
"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld!"
Henry grinned involuntarily at Bingley's enthusiasm. He well remembered a time when Eleanor Tilney had been the most beautiful creature Bingley had ever beheld.
Bingley continued to speak. "But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."
Henry saw Elizabeth Bennet seated nearby, having fallen victim to the unfortunate shortage of gentlemen. A dose of Elizabeth's spirit may be just the cure for Darcy's arrogance, thought Henry with a grin.
"Which do you mean?" said Darcy, turning around to look for a moment at Elizabeth. Henry saw Elizabeth glance up and catch Darcy's eye, but Darcy withdrew his own gaze and coldly said, "She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."
How dare you, Darcy! thought Henry indignantly. She is sitting just next to you! I am sure that she hears you! He glared at Darcy, all his former anger returning. Elizabeth looked up at Darcy as well; a disinterested observer would have noted the similarity of their expressions, but none of the attendees were paying them any mind.
Then Henry saw Elizabeth turn away and smile; a moment later, she stood and walked past Darcy, giving him an insolent grin as she passed, and went to stand with Charlotte Lucas. A moment later, both ladies burst out laughing, stealing glances back toward a mortified Darcy, whose expression showed that he knew exactly what the ladies were discussing. Henry grinned; Darcy's punishment was complete. Bravo, Elizabeth. He turned his attentions back to Maria, and ended the two dances with an elegant bow that made her blush profusely and anchor her gaze permanently to the floor.
The rest of the assembly passed in a similar manner. Henry danced with as many ladies as possible and was pronounced charming by everyone; Bingley could in propriety dance no more with Jane Bennet, but seemed to spend a great deal of time by her side nonetheless; and Darcy stood haughtily to one side of the room, refusing to dance or to talk with anyone outside his party, disgusting both the populace of Meryton and his old friend Tilney with his prideful behaviour.
Henry danced once again with Elizabeth Bennet, and spent some time talking to her; more than one mamma turned a significant glance in Mrs. Bennet's direction, but she hastened to tell them that Mr. Tilney was engaged and that his attentions to Lizzy were merely polite. Mrs. Bennet was not at all put out by Henry's ineligibility. She generally disapproved of satirical young men, although she had married one herself, and considered such a trait especially unattractive in a clergyman.
Henry and Elizabeth parted with a strong inclination on both sides to continue the acquaintance. Elizabeth liked Mr. Tilney a great deal, but did not fancy herself in love with him, especially after he informed her of his engagement; indeed, she had felt upon their introduction that his heart had already been claimed, although she could not say how she came by that knowledge. Henry found Elizabeth to be a lovely young woman, with an intelligence and playfulness that reminded him of his sister. Although he wished to know her better, he knew instinctively that she would never usurp Catherine's place in his heart. Henry Tilney had learned from his sister the value of the companionship of women, and he looked forward with much pleasure to future meetings with Elizabeth Bennet.
The Netherfield party gathered in the drawing room, where a footman helped the ladies to tea. Bingley poured sherry for the gentlemen, except Mr. Hurst, who had spent the evening consuming glass after glass of wine and was sprawled on a sofa, snoring gently. Miss Bingley divided her time between abusing the Meryton natives who had attended the ball and soliciting Mr. Darcy's approval of her cruel jibes. To Henry's dismay, Darcy did not seem disinclined to agree with her. Had Darcy changed so much in the year since they had last been together? Henry felt as though he hardly knew his friend.
"And so none of the Hertfordshire ladies could please you, Mr. Darcy? Not even the famous Miss Bennets?" asked Miss Bingley in an arch tone that annoyed Henry greatly. You would not know beauty if it marched in front of you wearing a sign, dear Caroline.
Bingley still wore a grin remarkably similar to that which he had worn whilst in the presence of the eldest Miss Bennet. "Well, I never met with pleasanter people or prettier girls in my life!"
Darcy stared at him. "Bingley, you astonish me. I saw little beauty and no breeding at all." Bingley's face fell, and remorse prompted Darcy to add, "The eldest Miss Bennet is, I grant you, very pretty."
Bingley smiled again. "A fine concession! Come, man, admit it! She is an angel!"
"She smiles too much," Darcy muttered.
Is such a thing possible? thought Henry in amusement.
Miss Bingley chimed in. "Oh, Jane Bennet is a sweet girl. But the mother!"
Bingley sighed, and Darcy rolled his eyes.
Miss Bingley turned her piercing gaze upon Henry. She considered a moment, then smiled unpleasantly and said, "I heard Eliza Bennet described as a famous local beauty. What do you say to that, Mr. Darcy?"
"I should as soon call her mother a wit."
Henry turned away from Darcy in dismay, while Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst burst into laughter. "Oh, Mr. Darcy, that's too cruel!" cried Miss Bingley. "What say you, Mr. Tilney? How do the ladies of Meryton compare with parson's daughters from Wiltshire?"
"The two sets of ladies are equal in my eyes," said Henry mildly. "They are unspoiled and charming, without the pretensions and false sophistication that disgust so many of my sex." Henry's countenance remained neutral as he spoke, although he saw Darcy turn away to hide a sudden grin. Miss Bingley saw Darcy's expression, and her smile remained fixed, though it took on a forced aspect; her eyes narrowed, their intense gaze directed toward Henry. Henry smiled back at her, not at all disturbed. I know how to take up with your sort, madam. You do not disconcert me.
Bingley shared Henry's astonishment at Darcy's mocking response to his sister's question. "Darcy, I shall never understand why you go through the world determined to be displeased with everything and everyone in it."
"And I will never understand why you are in such a rage to approve of everything and everyone that you meet."
"Well, you shall not make me think ill of Miss Bennet, Darcy," said Bingley resolutely, and carried his sherry to the other side of the room.
Miss Bingley attempted to wrench Darcy's attention back upon herself. "Indeed, he shall not. I shall dare his disapproval and declare she is a dear, sweet girl, despite her unfortunate relations, and I should not be sorry to know her better."
"No, no, nor I. You see, Mr. Darcy, we are not afraid of you," said Mrs. Hurst.
"I would not have you so," responded Darcy politely. Henry was at a loss to account for Darcy's conduct that evening, so he sipped his sherry in silence, inspecting one of the ancient portraits that hung about the large room.
Just then Mr. Hurst roused and half-shouted to no one in particular, "Wha? Yah, very true. Demmed tedious waste of an evening." His wife had the good grace to look embarrassed.
After a few more overtures to Darcy, which he ignored, Miss Bingley finally retired. Bingley and the Hursts trailed her up the wide stairway, and Darcy and Henry were left alone.
"More sherry, Tilney?" Darcy refilled his glass.
"No, Darcy, I thank you," said Henry, still staring at the portrait, which was of a remarkably unattractive child and a small, dirty-looking dog.
"You are dull this evening, sir. It seemed that you had an enjoyable time at the assembly, but perhaps my impression was mistaken."
"On the contrary. I enjoyed myself a great deal."
Darcy studied the younger man. "Usually after a dance you are more lively, Tilney. Are you well?"
"I am quite well, I thank you." Henry was silent for a moment, then abruptly turned to Darcy and said, "What are your intentions toward Miss Bingley?"
Darcy was startled. "My intentions? What do you mean?"
"Well, you encourage her arrogant behaviour with satirical remarks and you permit her excessive attentions. I can only conclude that you are in love with her."
"I am not in love with her, Tilney," Darcy protested. "But I cannot be uncivil to Bingley's sister."
"Why not? You were uncivil to an entire roomful of people this evening."
Darcy shook his head impatiently. "Why are you so concerned about people with whom you are barely acquainted?"
"I am acquainted with them now, and so would you be, had you not been so disagreeable." Henry paused and placed a hand on his friend's arm. "I never thought you to have improper pride, Darcy."
Darcy looked uncomfortable. "I have not the gift you do, Tilney, of recommending myself to strangers. I most certainly did not set out to be uncivil."
"I know that, of course, but the people at the assembly did not. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, for example. She is a delightful young lady, but you insulted her within her hearing."
Darcy raised his eyebrows. "You take an active interest in that lady's misfortunes. I hope you have not already forgotten Miss Morland?"
Henry's voice grew quiet, and he turned away. "I have not forgotten Catherine for a moment. What sort of brute do you think me?"
"Forgive me, Tilney," said Darcy in the same quiet tone. "You are quite right. I know you better than that. Come, we are both fatigued from this late evening, and we must rise early if we are to have sport. Let us retire and be comrades again in the morning."
His friend agreed, and they each took a candle and went to their respective bed-chambers. Henry lay wakeful for some time thinking of Catherine and the delight she would have shown in the evening's activities. Darcy, however, had no crises either of conscience or sensibility that served to murder sleep, and he slumbered deeply and peacefully, dreaming of Miss Elizabeth Bennet's impudent smile.
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