Chapter 9
WHAT NEWS FROM LONGBOURN
Elizabeth removed Jane’s letter from her pocket and once again perused those parts that delighted her the most.
Dearest Lizzy,
I have some very happy news, and as I can have no reserves from you, where giving you pleasure is concerned, I am writing to you much sooner than you may have been expecting. Mr. Bingley and I are engaged to be married!
Whilst I must confess to being the happiest creature in the world, I sometimes feel it is by far too much.
I do not deserve it. Oh! Why is not everybody as happy?
As you are my dearest sister, I wanted you to be the first to know.
Mr. Bingley and I shall share our happy news with my mother and father later this evening.
Oh, Lizzy! How shall I bear so much happiness?
I can well imagine Mama going on and on regarding all the particulars of calico, muslin, and cambric.
How I wish you were here to share my joy; however, I shall be patient, for Mr. Bingley and I have decided the wedding is to be in three months.
Dare I hope by then you may well have good news of your own?
If I have a single regret, it is that my future sisters are not here to share in our joy.
You will know by now they have returned to town to take part in the London Season.
Mr. Bingley assured me he would write to them telling them of our news.
As attentive as they have always been, I am persuaded they will be just as delighted as everyone at Longbourn.
Elizabeth doubted such was the case, but it mattered not. Surely as the wife of Mr. Bingley, my sister must have no cause to repine.
She clutched the missive to her heart. Her greatest wish for Jane had come to fruition.
Now, Elizabeth had only to satisfy her own heart’s desire for a love match.
With all her time in town, she had met with very little success.
None of the gentleman had found a place on her list. How could they?
Rather than spending her time advantageously and becoming better acquainted with the gentlemen whom her uncle invited to dinner or even those gentlemen who routinely danced with her when she had attended the balls with Georgiana, Elizabeth spent all her time endeavouring to make out Mr. Darcy’s character.
Prudence and good sensibility rendered him as the one gentleman whose name would never grace her list. Even if he were the most amiable man in the world, which he was not—even if he were liked by her family and friends, which he certainly was not, he was spoken for, according to Mr. Wickham.
My upcoming trip to Kent is just the diversion I need.
Mr. Wickham had told her about Mr. Darcy’s aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, as well as his presumed intended, Miss Anne de Bourgh.
Perhaps, she would have another opportunity to complete the puzzle that was Mr. Darcy, only she would be doing it far away with no danger of his hypnotic eyes and wonderfully melodious voice to distract her.
Having left Hertfordshire with the Gardiners before Charlotte’s marriage to her cousin, Elizabeth was happy for the chance to mend the awkwardness between them, for she and Charlotte had always been the most intimate of friends.
Their parting words had been Charlotte’s ardent affirmation of wanting to hear from Elizabeth very often.
Charlotte asked for another favour as well.
Thinking it would be some time before she would leave Kent, she wanted her friend to come and see her in her new home.
Elizabeth could not refuse. They had agreed upon March, and though Elizabeth foresaw little pleasure in the visit, fearing it was merely a gesture of friendship for the sake of what had always been rather than what was, a promise was a promise.
Now, the time had come. If things work out according to plan, soon I shall have the privilege of meeting Mr. Darcy’s presumed betrothed for myself.
Elizabeth called on Georgiana the next day.
She was grateful for time alone with her friend outside the company of Mr. Darcy.
She had not seen the gentleman in days. It was just as well.
Whenever she was with him, she found herself completely disconcerted.
Glimpses of the haughty man that everyone so disdained in Hertfordshire were too eager to flee her thoughts whenever he was near.
“Elizabeth, the Season is barely underway. I hate to see you leave so soon after having just arrived.”
“I assure you that I shall endeavour to return to town once I leave Kent. After all, I am on a mission am I not? How likely am I to thwart my father’s plans for my future marital felicity in Kent?”
“I suppose if you must go, perhaps I shall persuade my brother to allow you to accompany him on his annual trip to visit our aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh at Rosings Park.”
“I … I know not what to say.” Being entrapped in a long carriage ride with Mr. Darcy was the last thing she wanted—the last thing she needed. “It is hardly fitting that a single woman should travel to Kent with a single gentleman.”
“That is nonsense. You are like a sister to me. My brother will be glad for your company.”
“I am afraid he might disagree.”
“Well, it will do no harm in asking. I am certain you are wrong. I believe my brother admires you very much.”
“If you suppose such a thing, then you do not know your brother very well.”
“I know him well enough to know he would not have you travel by coach when you might enjoy the comforts of the luxurious Darcy barouche. You must leave it all to me. I shall even ask Mrs. Annesley to accompany you. She is very fond of you. I believe she will be very agreeable to the scheme.”
“And what shall you do during the height of the Season without a proper companion?”
“My aunt, Lady Ellen, will be happy for my company. There, you see, you shall have no more excuses.” Georgiana walked to her writing desk and secured pen and paper.
“What are you planning to do?”
“I shall send a note to my brother asking him to call on me as soon as possible.”
Darcy arrived at his sister’s home within an hour of her summons, surmising it must be terribly important, for rarely did she do such a thing.
His apprehension soon turned into dread.
Leaning against the mantelpiece, he tempered his speech.
“Whatever do you mean in saying that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is travelling to Kent? What can be her purpose in Kent?” Part of the reason I am eager to leave town is to escape my irrational fascination with her.
“Brother, Miss Elizabeth has been invited to visit her dear friend Mrs. Charlotte Collins. She is the parson’s bride. Surely you would not relegate Miss Elizabeth to a public coach when there is more than enough room for her to accompany you and Cousin Richard.”
“A single woman travelling alone with two gentlemen is entirely unseemly.”
“Ah, but she will not be travelling alone. Mrs. Annesley has agreed to accompany her. It is all rather convenient, for Mrs. Annesley has friends in Kent that she might visit.”
Darcy brushed his fingers through his hair.
His sister might have promised she had no intention of playing matchmaker between Elizabeth and him, but she was surely doing a fine imitation.
Convenient dinner parties of four: Georgiana, Mrs. Annesley, Miss Elizabeth and me.
Of course, he had drawn the line where theatre appearances and other public outings were concerned.
It was inconceivable he would do anything that might give rise to speculation of any sort of attachment with his sister’s pretty friend from Hertfordshire.
He prayed the weather would be fine so he and Richard might ride on horseback alongside the carriage most of the way.
He was feeling the danger of Elizabeth’s presence, and it was not a very comfortable position in which to find himself.
How clever he had been in requesting Elizabeth’s hand for the waltz and thereby spoiling the intentions of the rakish Lord Stanley Davenport.
The unintended consequence was the lingering remembrance of her in his arms. Days had passed, and yet the scent of lavender flooded his senses with little more than a thought of the soft caress of her hand on his shoulder, his hand on her waist.
How shall I endure the long carriage ride with her to Kent?