Chapter VIII #2
“I am not,” retorted Bingley. “You want me to sacrifice my happiness to satisfy your ambition, but I will not do it. If some jumped-up dandy sees you as unsuitable because I married the daughter of a gentleman, it will not give me a moment’s concern.
You would see it that way yourself if you were not focused on standing above all other concerns. ”
“This is all diverting,” said Hurst, interjecting his opinion into the tense exchange, “but you mean to marry Darcy. Marrying Miss Bennet would give your brother a legitimate connection to the landed class—I fail to see how that would affect your chances of ensnaring him.”
“Mr. Darcy agrees with me,” snapped Caroline. “He finds them a reprehensible—”
“I shall not debate whether that was true before,” interrupted Bingley. “It is not true now—that is obvious in the way Darcy welcomed Miss Elizabeth and her relations to Pemberley.”
“The salient point—”
“I care nothing for your salient points, Caroline,” said Bingley, rising from the chair in which he sat.
“I have made my decision, and you will not gainsay me. If Miss Bennet will have me, I shall offer for her—your future presence in our lives depends on your ability to treat her with the respect she deserves. I require nothing from you as regards the family, as I believe it would be better if you avoided their company.”
Bingley turned and walked to the door, pulling it open. Before he left the room, however, he turned to speak one more time. The evidence of Caroline’s boundless fury did not escape his attention.
“Control yourself for the rest of our visit, Caroline. I will have no compunction at all about ending our visit early if your behavior is not exemplary.”
With those words, Bingley left the room, feeling lighter than he had in months.
The truth was that he had let Caroline do as she wished for far too long.
It was time to assert himself, to be the sort of man who could stand beside a woman of Miss Bennet’s quality.
If he did not, he had no business returning to Netherfield at all.
THOUGH BINGLEY HAD said nothing explicit, Darcy expected an argument that morning.
Thus, the Darcy siblings had agreed to make themselves scarce—Georgiana returned to her rooms after breakfast with Mrs. Annesley, while Darcy instructed the stable to prepare his curricle, which he then drove into Lambton.
There, he had the good fortune to arrive at the inn after breakfast, but before the Gardiners departed for their day’s activities.
“Darcy!” said Mr. Gardiner when he entered the room on the maid’s heels. “I was beginning to wonder if you meant to visit us this morning or if my niece’s allure had somehow diminished from yesterday.”
“No, Mr. Gardiner,” said Darcy, never taking his eyes from Miss Bennet. “Never that.”
“Your discernment and constancy are most pleasing, sir,” said Mrs. Gardiner, appearing delighted.
Darcy forced his eyes away from Miss Bennet. “My purpose for calling this morning is to discover if you have any fixed engagements. If you are at liberty, I wondered if you would be interested in a tour of the park at Pemberley.”
With a smile, Miss Bennet again became the focus of his attention. “I am aware of Miss Bennet’s love of nature, and I believe you mentioned seeing the grounds before, Mrs. Gardiner.”
“Yes, when I was a girl,” replied she with pleasure. “The woods of Pemberley are lovely, Mr. Darcy.”
“Unfortunately, we are engaged today with an old friend of Madeleine’s,” said Mr. Gardiner.
“I do not suppose that Elizabeth’s attendance is essential,” added Mrs. Gardiner, just when Darcy had begun to feel crestfallen. “If she wishes it, we may excuse her so that she may delight in Pemberley’s grounds as much as she wishes.”
All eyes turned to Miss Bennet, who laughed at the array of faces. When she met Darcy’s eyes, her expression softened. “Who would be so churlish as to refuse such an offer? I am delighted to accept your invitation, Mr. Darcy.”
“Excellent!” said Mr. Gardiner. “Lizzy, we shall return to the inn by four o’clock.”
“Remember,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “we have a dinner engagement tonight from which you may not be excused.”
“Do not concern yourself, Mr. Gardiner, Mrs. Gardiner,” said Darcy. “I shall return Miss Bennet to your oversight by that time. She may be a little dazzled by all Pemberley offers, but she will be present.”
The Gardiners laughed at his jest, and while Miss Bennet huffed and put her hands on her hips, the gleam in her eye belied any notion that she was displeased.
Miss Bennet produced a bonnet and parasol, eschewing any outer garment in deference to the beautiful summer day, and they departed.
When they reached the street, Darcy helped her onto the curricle, and they were off.
“Are you certain it is safe, Mr. Darcy?” asked she. “I have heard that curricles can be quite dangerous.”
“Quite safe, Miss Bennet,” replied Darcy. “You may wish to trust your bonnet to protect your face until we stop, for the wind might snatch your parasol out of your hands.”
“That is excellent advice, sir,” said Miss Bennet with a cheeky little smile.
Then she changed the subject. “I hope your sister and your guests were all well?”
Darcy glanced at her, wondering if she had seen something to suggest he wished to be away from Pemberley that morning.
Her expression gave nothing away, and if her eyes twinkled, they often did, whether in mirth or anger.
Darcy had seen both directed at him often enough to appreciate the lure of those beautiful eyes.
“All very well, I thank you,” said Darcy, turning his attention back to the road. “Georgiana went to her rooms with Mrs. Annesley this morning for a little instruction. Of the Bingley party, I only saw my friend before I left this morning.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” said Miss Bennet, though it was clear she knew he had not said all.
“If I were a betting man,” said Darcy, “I would wager that Bingley has something to say to his sisters. Thus, it was wise to absent myself.”
Miss Bennet turned to him, scandalized. “Oh, then I am a convenient distraction from unpleasantness at your estate? For shame, Mr. Darcy.”
“A distraction to be certain,” replied Darcy, not at all bothered. “Bingley’s task dealing with his sister is already difficult enough—I do not wish to add to his burden.”
Miss Bennet looked forward again, mollified. “Poor Miss Bingley.”
By tacit agreement, they spoke of other matters—Miss Bennet’s journey through Derbyshire with her aunt and uncle, Darcy’s observations about sights of interest in Pemberley’s vicinity, and assorted details of their lives, homes, and families.
When they arrived at Pemberley, Darcy turned off the main road to a smaller path just before catching sight of the house.
From there, he drove them through woods and fields, watching Miss Bennet’s eyes light up, her attention turning more to the surrounding greenery.
There were many sights to see, from a large pond and waterfall along the northern bluff to miles of wooded pathways winding among low hills and fields of waving grain.
The first place Darcy stopped was a low crag with a mild incline on one side leading to a fine view into the heart of the estate.
Miss Bennet, as he had known she would, attacked the climb with no hesitation and released a sigh of pleasure once they reached the top.
“This is beautiful, Mr. Darcy,” said she, gazing out over the land with her parasol held over her head. “Just north of my father’s estate, there is a hill of some prominence that leads to a view like this. From there, I can see Longbourn and Netherfield, and even some estates further south.”
Darcy considered what he remembered about Netherfield. “Yes, I remember something of that, though I did not visit it. Did you go there often?”
“No, for it is two miles distant,” replied Miss Bennet, her attention still on the scene. “It will not surprise you to learn that long distances do not intimidate me, yet I only walked four miles when I could expect pleasant weather and had enough time to make the journey worthwhile.”
“That is understandable,” said Darcy. “Do you not ride at all?”
She turned a bright smile on him. “Jane is the rider between us. I know how to ride and have done so occasionally, but I have always enjoyed walking. It gives me exercise and uninterrupted time to think.” With a smile, she shrugged.
“Longbourn is not so tranquil a house that one can find much solitude or silence.”
“Pemberley has always been different,” said Darcy, turning back to the familiar view. “It is both much larger than Longbourn, and my family much smaller.”
“Pemberley is also statelier,” said she, regarding him through laughing eyes. “Your home is a home, Mr. Darcy—your behavior and that of your sister prove it. But it is also an imposing structure with centuries of Darcy forebears to uphold.”
“In that, you are not quite correct,” replied Darcy. “My great-grandfather built the house. There are some sketches of the old house in the library—it was still a fine house, but not so large as the current building.”
“Ah, then it has seen only four generations of Darcys. Tell me, Mr. Darcy, when do you suppose it will attain the gravitas such a monument to your family must necessarily possess?”