“Did she indeed?”
She nodded. “Rather loudly.”
“It is unfortunate that Bingley has such a sister.”
“I have three rather silly younger sisters, myself. We cannot choose our relations. What about you?”
Darcy’s countenance turned grave. “I have a younger sister, twelve years my junior. Georgiana used to be cheery and lively, but a…misadventure, this past summer, has changed her.”
“I am sorry to hear of it. Did you not want her to be here with you?” she asked softly.
Her compassionate expression urged him on. “I blame myself for her misadventure. My aunt and uncle thought my self-berating mood was disruptive to Georgiana’s recovery. So they took her in, for the time being, and urged me to travel here to visit Mr. Bingley.”
“And you miss her.”
He nodded. “Our mother died when Georgiana was but two. I love my sister dearly.”
“And your father?”
“He died five years ago.”
“You miss your father’s guidance and your mother’s gentleness.”
He nodded again.
“You have soulful eyes. I can see that your parents were very dear to you and still mean a great deal to you, even now.”
Looking straight into her tender gaze, Darcy suddenly felt a sense of belonging. It was like coming home, where he could share life’s ups and downs with someone who truly understood him, even without words.
His defenses fell away, and he began to pour out the sense of disappointment, anger and betrayal that he felt towards his childhood friend, George Wickham, although he was still cautious enough not to disclose Georgiana’s failed elopement.
“I sometimes think that all of humanity is born evil.” Elizabeth touched his hand to comfort him. “Only good breeding and education prevent them from staying evil. It is tragic that Mr. Wickham did not take advantage of the excellent opportunity with which your family provided him.”
She turned her face to the sky and said, in a more cheerful tone, “But then I remember our Lord. He provides us with guidance and good examples. I am happy to say that I know more good people than bad…but you must take into account that I only dine with four-and-twenty families regularly.”
Darcy smiled at her jest.
In the meantime, here stood a beautiful lady with sense and sensitivity, watching him with glittering eyes. She was altogether worthy of his attention. Gently, he brushed a wayward curl behind her ear and whispered, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would you do me the honour of dancing with me again?”
“Another dance? Are you sure that you are up to such an undertaking?” She arched her brows but did not take his hand.
He nodded. “I believe so. I know, now, that you have three silly sisters.”
“And a match-making mother,” she added, and smiled.
“Well, I meet many of those in London society.” He returned her smile.
“My aunt and uncle live in Cheapside,” she cautioned, but she put her hand in his.
“The late great-grandfather of Mr. Bingley lived not far from there, as well.” He squeezed her soft hand and placed it on the crook of his arm. In accord, they walked back into the hall, chatting eagerly.
That night, although the good people of Hertfordshire did not know enough to recognize the rarity, they were treated to the genuine smile and laugh of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Miss Bingley nearly fainted upon seeing him escort Elizabeth Bennet to the floor for the third set of dances.
As for Rake Darcy, luckily for all concerned, he did not make a further appearance that night.
When The Dead Interfere
What if Netherfield Park was haunted?
'My dear Mr. Bennet,' said his lady to him one day, 'have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?'
“But, Mama,” exclaimed Lydia, their youngest daughter, “that house is haunted! Who can have been so droll as to let it?”
Mrs. Bennet snorted. “Nonsense. Your uncle Philips assures Mr. Bingley, who is a young man of large fortune from the north, that the house is in superb order...”
Soon, the Bingleys moved in and became acquainted with the Bennets, who were but three miles away. Jane Bennet, the eldest daughter, visited the Bingley sisters one day, but became sick after being caught in the rain. Our story continues as in the original tale until the last night of Jane and Elizabeth’s stay at Netherfield. It was not until the last day of October that the boundary between the living and the deceased dissolved.
“I am quite bored with this visit!” The elegant elderly lady stretched her arms above her head and danced a little step away from her companion.
“Emma, that is a most unladylike gesture! We need to uphold our manner, even in the land of darkness,” the handsome old man chided.
Pouting, Emma folded her arms across her bosom. “Oh, Mr. Knightley, you are such a bore! I do not understand why I agreed to marry you at all, when we were alive. And I especially do not understand why we are still together now that we are dead.”
Knightley came to her and wrapped his arms around her slim waist. With a serious countenance, he said, “Just think what sort of havoc my little Emma would create in the world, if not for my constant vigilance. I cannot leave you, my dear, day or night.” He then lowered his head to give her a quick kiss on the lips.
Emma unfolded her arms and pushed him away. “George, we only have a few hours to play with the living. Let us not waste time. You can kiss me any other day of the year. We will be going back to Hartfield soon.” She then ran upstairs, as quickly as her elderly legs could manage, happily.
Knightley chased after her. “Now, Emma, what do you have in mind? I do not want you to scare any of the young people to death. I heard that it has been many years since Netherfield had a family living here.”
She went through the door of the first bedchamber. When he caught up with her in the room, they could see a plain-looking man lying on the bed, snoring loudly.
Emma held her nose with her fingers and frowned. “He stinks! I wager he drank more than three glasses of brandy, and whatever else was on offer tonight.”
“Let us leave him alone then. You do not want to play with a drunkard.”
“What do you say we make him want never to drink again? You can turn into a big barrel of foul-tasting wine and press onto him heavily, giving him nightmares. I wager he would not go near a drink anymore, after such an experience,” she said with a mischievous grin.
“Emma! And here I thought you only liked to play at matchmaking!” He tried to pull her away from the bed.
“I know, but he is already married to this Lousia, so I cannot make a match for him.”
“How do you know about that?” he asked.
“I like to listen in on the lives of the living, from time to time. Mr. Hurst likes to drink and sleep. His wife is called Lousia. They seldom spend their nights together. In fact, they have not done so once since they moved to
