Chapter 3
The days following their visit to the theatre unfolded in a delicate dance of anticipation and unease for Elizabeth.
The Gardiner household resumed its cheerful bustle, yet Elizabeth’s thoughts lingered on the unexpected encounter.
Mr Darcy’s intense gaze, Miss Darcy’s shy warmth, and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s exuberant invitation to join them in their box had left an indelible mark.
The promise of future calls, though lightly made, hung in the air like a melody unresolved, and Elizabeth found herself wondering whether such a meeting would ever come to pass.
Her heart, still bruised from the revelations of Mr Darcy’s letter, wrestled with new questions.
Could she have misjudged him so entirely?
His reserved demeanour at the theatre, softened by moments of unguarded attention, suggested a complexity she had not allowed herself to see in Hertfordshire.
And yet, the sting of his interference in Jane’s happiness and the rumour of his supposed engagement to Miss de Bourgh clouded her musings.
Was he a man of honour or one who played at love while bound by duty elsewhere?
The uncertainty gnawed at her, even as she scolded herself for caring.
Mrs Gardiner, ever perceptive, noticed Elizabeth’s distraction. “Lizzy, my dear,” she said, her needle pausing mid-stitch, “you seem miles away. Is it the play we saw that occupies your thoughts or something — someone — else?”
Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed with heat as she threaded her needle with excessive attention. “The play was diverting, Aunt. Beatrice’s wit is a formidable thing, is it not?”
“Indeed,” Mrs Gardiner replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Though I suspect it is not Beatrice’s wit but the gentlemen’s presence that has you so pensive. Mr Darcy, the colonel, and the viscount made quite an impression, I dare say.”
“Yes, I was surprised to see them.”
“Mr Darcy and the colonel were in Kent for some time, were they not?”
“Yes, they stayed at Rosings for about a fortnight.”
“The colonel seemed to be on exceedingly friendly terms with you, yet Mr Darcy was very quiet and restrained. Did something pass between you that you have not shared?”
“That is just their nature, Aunt,” Elizabeth responded, avoiding Mrs Gardiner’s gaze. “That is how they are most of the time, with anyone.”
“Yes, Mr Darcy was much the same way in Hertfordshire,” Jane interjected. “But the colonel is very amiable and friendly. And Miss Darcy is so pretty and sweet. It is no wonder everybody praises her.”
“Yes, Miss Darcy is very different from her brother,” Mrs Gardiner said. “She resembles her mother, and the gentleman is very much like his father. The late Mr Darcy and Lady Anne were both exceptional people, but quite different in appearance and in nature. Just like their children.”
“Do you think Miss Darcy truly wishes us to call?” Jane enquired.
“I do. Why else would she have mentioned it? I would be delighted to talk to her about Pemberley. It is truly the most beautiful place I have ever seen — and I have seen plenty of fine estates.”
“She might send an invitation, unless her brother forbids it,” Elizabeth said. “Mr Darcy is a private man. He might not wish for strangers in his house.”
“Rich people can be a little fastidious sometimes. But if any of them choose to call on us, it will be a pleasure. And if they invite us to call on them, we shall accept. If not, we shall survive without them, as we did before,” Mrs Gardiner concluded.
Elizabeth’s mind was still unsettled; she longed to unburden herself to Jane and her aunt, to confess the tumult of Hunsford — the proposal, the accusations, the letter. But Jane’s tender heart, still mending from Mr Bingley’s absence, could hardly bear such a weight.
She forced a smile at her aunt’s last statement, though her mind was filled with questions about what Mr Darcy would do next.
“Since the weather has been so pleasant of late, perhaps we could plan some shopping and a walk in Hyde Park,” Mrs Gardiner suggested. “And since we intend to be in the neighbourhood, we might send a note to Miss Darcy. From there, it will be her decision.”
Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances; they did not know their aunt was so keen to visit someone outside her close circle of friends.
Elizabeth’s pulse quickened at the thought of being anywhere near Mr Darcy’s house.
And the notion of having tea with Miss Darcy may mean another encounter with her brother.
The prospect was both thrilling and daunting, a collision of curiosity and caution.
She murmured her assent, hoping her voice betrayed none of her inner turmoil.
“Lizzy, do you think Mr Bingley is unaware of my presence in town?” Jane asked her later.
“I suspect he is,” Elizabeth replied, remembering Mr Darcy’s words in his letter. “I presume his sisters conveniently forgot to mention it.”
“But they said he knew and that he was busy with Miss Darcy. Did you see how pretty she is? Who could blame him for choosing her?”
“Jane, dearest, somehow I doubt Mr Bingley is in a position to choose Miss Darcy. She is full young, and she did not seem affected when she spoke of him. I would wager that Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley invented the story to make you forget him.”
“I cannot imagine they would intend to deceive me on purpose, Lizzy. I cannot think so ill of them. But I assume we shall have our answer soon. If Mr Bingley returns to town and still does not call, I shall forget him forever.”
Elizabeth wished she could offer her sister some words of comfort, but she did not know how. She avoided setting Jane’s hopes too high, in order to protect her from further disappointment. In the end, it all depended on Mr Bingley’s sense of honour and his true feelings for Jane.
The next morning, Mrs Gardiner discussed with her husband the idea of a trip to Hyde Park. Consequently, a note was sent to Miss Darcy.
To Elizabeth’s mingled relief and apprehension, a reply arrived a few hours later; Miss Darcy expressed delight at the prospect of hosting Mrs Gardiner and her nieces.
The appointed day was fixed, and Elizabeth spent the intervening hours in a state of restless anticipation, her mind weaving scenarios of what might transpire.
On the day of the visit, the Gardiner party set out in their carriage, the spring air crisp and fragrant. Jane wore a pale blue gown that complemented her gentle beauty, while Elizabeth chose a simple muslin dress in a soft rose hue, fighting with her nerves the entire ride.
They first visited a few shops, then took a short walk in Hyde Park before returning to the carriage for the brief journey to Park Lane, where the Darcys’ home was situated.
Elizabeth paid little attention to the shops; and even the park — one of her favourite places in all of London — held little charm that particular day.
Her mind was preoccupied with the notion of being in the house of the man who had declared his love for her, and whom she had so harshly and unfairly offended.
Why had she even agreed to the visit? She had no business being in his home, with his sister!
Miss Darcy’s invitation had been clearly addressed to Mrs Gardiner, based on their mutual interest in Pemberley.
So Elizabeth could have — should have — found a pretext and remained at home.
It was too late, though, as the carriage stopped at their destination and they stepped out.
Darcy House was a handsome building, its facade imposing yet elegant, with tall windows reflecting the afternoon sun.
A footman ushered them into a drawing room adorned with rich furnishings and delicate porcelain, where Miss Darcy and her companion, Mrs Annesley, awaited them.
Elizabeth’s heart raced, and she was hardly capable of noticing any of the details around her.
Miss Darcy rose with a shy smile, her delicate frame swathed in a gown of cream silk, her blond hair adorned with a single pearl comb.
“Mrs Gardiner, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” she greeted, her voice soft.
“I am so pleased you could come. I have looked forward to this ever since the theatre.” She sounded genuine, her smile friendly yet timid, and Elizabeth could not help comparing her manner with the Bingley sisters’ arrogant self-sufficiency.
This sweet-natured girl had been the victim of Mr Wickham’s vicious character; how horrible must a man be to deceive the daughter of his godfather?
And how stupid I was to believe that man so easily.
Elizabeth mused, while her aunt returned the greetings.
“The pleasure is ours, Miss Darcy. Your invitation was most generous. I confess I am impressed and a little intimidated to be here.”
All three of them sat, Jane obviously uneasy, in contrast to Mrs Gardiner’s joy. Elizabeth’s eyes darted about the room, half-expecting Mr Darcy to appear.
“My brother is out, at his club, with my cousins and my uncle,” Miss Darcy explained.
“I hope we have not imposed on Mr Darcy’s plans,” Elizabeth said.
“No, not at all. They meet twice a week whenever we are all in London.”
The conversation began slowly but soon flowed easily, with Mrs Gardiner and Mrs Annesley in the middle of it.
Miss Darcy and Jane were both restrained and Elizabeth distressed, but the older ladies found ways to engage them all in conversation.
They spoke of music, the theatre, then of Pemberley and the late Mr Darcy and Lady Anne.
“Your father was known to be the best landlord and the best master,” Mrs Gardiner said.
“My brother is just the same,” the girl answered. “He is kind and generous — everybody admires him. I feel grateful to be his sister.”
“Mr Darcy speaks highly of you,” Elizabeth finally interjected. “He mentioned your exquisite talent at the pianoforte.”
“My brother is too generous and tends to exaggerate my skills. Do you play and sing, Miss Elizabeth? Miss Bennet?”