Chapter Seventeen #2
Elizabeth beckoned Jane over to the mahogany tallboy set against the wall opposite the window, and opened one of the lower drawers.
She and Aunt Darcy had considered which of the lengths of Indian silk would best suit Jane, and in the end, decided that while the deeper, more jewel-deep colours were the most dramatic, Jane would likely prefer one of the less vibrant saris.
The length Elizabeth now showed her was cornflower blue woven with metallic silver threads, so it changed colour when the fabric shifted, edged in silver embroidery.
Ribbons in a darker blue, also embroidered with silver, were set ready to embellish it.
“Oh, how lovely! Did Mr Darcy bring it from India?”
“He did indeed. An entire chest-full of silks, taffetas and tussah, which he said were used for the Indian ladies’ dresses called saris, and a glory of ribbons in a myriad colours.
They are mainly for Georgiana and Aunt Darcy, of course, but he gave me a length of emerald green silk embroidered with gold and a handful of gold ribbons, and Aunt has gifted you this out of her own share of the spoils.
It is a perfect colour for you. We might create an overdress for your blue jaconet, and make it quite the thing for the Buxton assembly or an evening concert.
Sally will help. She is the maid Mrs Reynolds has designated to wait on you, and she has a neat hand for sewing.
She helped me make an overdress out of the emerald silk for my ivory gown, and you would not believe how elegant I look!
” Elizabeth laughed at the look of wonder on Jane’s face as her sister touched the blue silk with a gentle hand.
“It is dreadfully shallow of me to care about such things, but I do not want to appear too much the dowdy before Mr Darcy’s rich friends. ”
“No, indeed!”
“So, go and find your needle, Janey, and we will work on it immediately. I promise you we will quite dazzle the company!”
Not long before noon on Thursday, news was brought from the lodge that a large travelling coach had turned in at the estate gates, allowing the family time to gather in the Great Hall to greet the guests.
Elizabeth joined them as the coach drew up in the courtyard, and Mr Darcy went out at once to greet his friend.
Mr Bingley was evidently prone to merriment, and his countenance fairly beamed his delight.
He shook hands with his host with great cordiality and his two sisters—which was which?
—curtseyed and, it had to be said, simpered at Mr Darcy.
“It will be pleasant to make new acquaintances,” Elizabeth murmured to George, as they watched the reunion.
“I hope so.”
“Mr Reid approves of Mr Bingley. He did not mention the ladies. Perhaps he has not met them… oh. Here they come.”
Mr Darcy led the way, a lady on each arm, followed by Mr Bingley and a stout gentleman who must be Mr Hurst, the husband of the elder Bingley sister. Mr Darcy performed the introductions with aplomb, allowing the family a closer look at his friends.
Mr Bingley was two or three inches shorter than Mr Darcy and some four inches shorter than Hugh, but was a well-made young man with broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. He was as cheerful and engaging as Mr Reid had promised, with easy and unaffected good manners that spoke of a happy disposition.
He was handsome, too, as every young man should strive to be.
Best of all, Jane’s beauty struck him at once.
He positively stammered when bowing over her hand, and could barely take his eyes from her, and he blushed hotly when Jane smiled at him.
Mr Bingley’s two sisters were chillier in their demeanour, looking with swiftly-hidden surprise at Elizabeth and Jane when introduced, as if put out that the Darcys hosted others at Pemberley, even those generously claimed as cousins.
The ladies shared their brother’s fair looks.
Although Mrs Hurst’s hair was a pale straw colour under her pretty travelling hat, Miss Bingley was as true a blue-eyed, golden-haired maiden as was Jane—although not, to Elizabeth’s partial eyes, half as pretty or graceful.
Mr Hurst was a tall, gruff man, much thicker about the middle than his brother-in-law, and, indeed, thicker and redder-faced than a gentleman his age ought to be.
The ladies’ garments were more of fashion than utility.
Elizabeth pitied the ladies’ maids whose task it would be to remove the road dust and repair the damage to so much silk, velvet and lace.
Their manners were not the equal of their brother’s in ease and cheer, although they were all that was civil.
Oh, perfectly polite! Models of deportment, indeed, and perhaps it was the London fashion not to show a great deal of warmth when dipping into the first curtseys of an acquaintance, murmuring how charming they found Pemberley and its family, while Aunt Darcy welcomed them with her usual well-bred ease.
When Elizabeth was named, had made her curtsey and replied to the murmurs of the ladies with similar sentiments of her own, George was introduced. Mr Darcy did so warmly.
“Ladies, Bingley, Hurst… permit me to introduce George Wickham, who is both my cousin and friend, and also keeps the Pemberley ship afloat as her land steward. Wickham, Bingley was my mainstay in India. You and he have much in common when it comes to ensuring I do not run aground.”
“Very nautical analogies!” George bowed to the ladies, who both dipped into brief curtseys in return, and held out his hand to the gentlemen.
“I am pleased to make everyone’s acquaintance.
Welcome to Pemberley. If I may do anything to help make your visit a successful and pleasant one, please let me know. ”
“The first thing you may do is join us for dinner this evening,” Mr Darcy said, “And not merely to ensure the same number of gentlemen as ladies!”
“Oh,” said Miss Bingley, although why she should be taken aback at George’s inclusion in the family party was something to ponder.
When everyone glanced at her, she tilted up her chin a trifle and smoothed out her expression to one of smiling, polite interest, as if someone other than she had made the surprised exclamation.
“I am happy to redress the balance, of course.” George bowed again to Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst. “Although you cannot expect me to deplore a multitude of ladies.”
“Another cousin, Darcy? And here was I thinking you had very few of them!” Mr Bingley, at least, had tempered his sisters’ coolness by shaking hands heartily and now treated George with the bonhomie due any gentleman.
“I am Darcy’s only cousin on his father’s side. Second cousin, to be accurate.” George’s smile was wry. “Those in Mrs Darcy’s family are prettier, and those in his mother’s family more eminent.”
“I am only lately acquainted with the Misses Bennet,” Mr Darcy said, “but Wickham and my mother’s nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I were the scourge of the neighbourhood when the colonel and I spent our summers here as boys.
There was not a raspberry cane in the fruit garden or a fig in the hothouse safe from our depredations. ”
George laughed. “There still is not. I saw you dodging the gardener two days ago, Darcy, with a most conscious look of guilt on your countenance. I suspect you of raiding the hothouses.”
Mr Darcy held up a hand. “A hit!”
Miss Bingley smiled up at him. “Can it be a raid, sir? Surely they are your own hothouses and you may take the fruit with impunity?”
“I wish you may persuade our head gardener of that fact, Miss Bingley. I do, indeed.”
“I believe there are enough of the blackberries for dinner at least, if you did not also make an assault on the fruit cages, Fitzwilliam,” Aunt Darcy put in.
And when Mr Darcy laughingly disclaimed any fault in that particular direction, she turned to their guests and suggested they might wish to join the family in the blue saloon after refreshing themselves after their travels.
“The roads are sadly dirty at this time of year. It is one of the perils of living so far from a town.”
The Bingley party acquiescing to this plan, Mrs Reynolds escorted the ladies to their rooms, while her husband took charge of the gentlemen.
The Bingleys would find nothing amiss with the rooms prepared for them, from the beds with fine Irish linen sheets to all the little luxuries provided for their comfort, such as the finest milled soaps on the washing dressers and the best hot-pressed writing paper, ink, and sealing waxes set out neatly in each room’s secretaire. Nothing could be wanting.
George watched them up the stairs, before glancing at Mr Darcy. “I shall go and find Reid, Fitzwilliam. He and I have some business to settle today, and I should deal with it as soon as I might.”
“We will see you at the noon meal?”
“Of course.” George nodded, and slipped away, though not without cocking an eyebrow in Elizabeth’s direction.
He had seen Miss Bingley’s reaction, of course.
How good of him to remove himself and not cause embarrassment, though it was not for the Bingleys to have an opinion on his relations with the Darcys.
Miss Bingley’s demeanour was troubling. Were not the Bingleys from trade?
Did she decry George, an honest man making his way after sad reverses, and engaged in an honourable profession?
Elizabeth followed her sister into the saloon—Hugh had leapt forward to offer Jane his arm, of course, and was promenading in with a conscious air of triumph and more than one sly glance at the brother he deemed he had vanquished—and took a seat to await their guests.
“The ladies are very elegant,” was Georgiana’s verdict, settling onto the sofa beside her. “Their dresses are so fine!”
“Yes, and most fashionable, if I am to trust the pronouncements of La Belle Assemblée, though not the most practical dresses when travelling.” Elizabeth strove to keep envy from her tone. Oh, for the ease of circumstances that discounted impracticality!
“I assume they wished to leave a favourable first impression with us,” Jane suggested, kind as ever.
“I did not notice,” murmured Hugh, and he smiled brightly at Jane.
Elizabeth forbore to openly roll her eyes. She turned to Mr Darcy. “Mr Bingley is as cheerful and easy in manner as Mr Reid reported.”
“You discussed the Bingleys with Reid?” Mr Darcy raised his eyebrows, but he did not appear to be angry.
“By chance. When I visited my mother after church last Sunday, Mr Reid escorted me back to Pemberley after the midday meal. He tied his horse on behind the gig, and kept me company. A brave man, to submit to my driving! Perhaps it was to soothe his nerves, but he talked most readily, kind enough to share some stories of his time with you and Mr Bingley in India.”
Mr Darcy blinked. “Forgive me… Reid visited Frith House?”
“Yes. Allow me to tell you how much I esteem him. While I do not doubt he was once a brave and skilled soldier—he must have been, to be assigned to your security—he is also one of nature’s gentlemen. A clever man, too, I think.”
“He is, indeed, on all three counts; a fearsome warrior, as well as a clever, gentle man. He was at your mother’s house for Michaelmas.”
Elizabeth bit back her smile. “I believe, sir, he is taking quite an interest in the gardens at Frith House, which he is including in his improvement plans for Pemberley.”
“The gardens.” Mr Darcy’s tone was dry enough to cause Elizabeth’s smile to break through. “Naturally. I must remember to commend him for his dedication to horticulture.”
“Well, if he is as fearsome as you say, that will be very brave of you.”
Mr Darcy’s sudden crack of laughter had everyone turning to them, wearing quizzical expressions aplenty, but before anyone could speak, Reynolds opened the door and Mr Bingley bounded through, wreathed in smiles and as eager as a puppy.
And if his first action, after greeting the company with hearty goodwill, was to turn to Jane as iron cleaves to a lodestone, Elizabeth could only smile and settle back to watch her beloved sister being admired exactly as she ought to be.
Excellent. Aunt Darcy’s design could not be carried through more delightfully!