SEVENTEEN
Netherfield.
Darcy
“You are awake and out of your room surprisingly early,” said Bingley as he entered his office. “I passed Marsh outside, and when he mentioned you were in here, I confess I was rather startled.”
Darcy did not immediately look up from the letter in his hand.
“You informed me I might use this room whenever I pleased,” he said. “I was unaware the invitation came attended by judgement.”
Bingley laughed as he crossed further into the room.
The office remained quiet at this hour, the greater part of Netherfield only just beginning to wake. Several letters lay open across the desk before Darcy beside the remains of untouched coffee.
Bingley glanced toward the correspondence. “Business?”
“Family and business.”
“Ah.” He came nearer. “Good family or alarming family?”
“Lady Catherine.”
Bingley winced at once.
“Did you leave instructions at Pemberley to forward your correspondence here, or how did she discover your whereabouts?” said Bingley. “From Georgiana, I suppose?”
“No. Mr. Collins informed her.”
Bingley blinked. “Miss Bennet’s cousin?”
“The same. He is rector at Hunsford under my aunt’s patronage and, according to Miss Elizabeth, regards Lady Catherine with something approaching religious devotion.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
Bingley settled comfortably into the chair opposite the desk. “And what does her ladyship say?”
“She appears deeply distressed that I have removed myself from the resources of Pemberley and concealed myself in Hertfordshire amongst what she terms ‘provincial influences.’”
Bingley laughed. “Ah. Yes, that sounds very much like something your aunt would say,” he said. “One visit to Rosings was enough to convince me she considered her opinions on nearly every subject imaginable decidedly superior to everyone else’s.”
Darcy almost smiled before returning his attention to another letter, this one from Georgiana.
Bingley allowed him several moments of quiet before speaking again. “Speaking of Miss Bennets, Mr. Jones is expected today to determine whether the ladies may safely travel home. Though judging by Miss Bennet’s appearance at dinner yesterday, I suspect he shall approve it.”
“I am glad she is recovered,” said Darcy, his eyes remaining upon the page before him. “Though I imagine you shall feel her departure rather more strongly than the rest of us.”
Bingley smiled with little attempt at concealment. “Of course,” he said. “I only regret that her illness permitted us so little of her company these past days.”
“You are remarkably transparent in your affection for her,” Darcy observed. “I do not even require looking upward to know you are smiling presently.”
“I do not deny it,” said Bingley easily. “I admire Miss Bennet exceedingly and should like very much to know her better.”
Darcy lifted his head then. “That sounds more serious than I thought.”
Bingley hesitated only briefly.
“My attentions are not insignificant, Darcy. If matters continue as they presently stand, I cannot see any reason I should not eventually hope to marry her.”
Darcy regarded him steadily. “Your sisters may not entirely support such a decision.”
“What Louisa and Caroline think upon the subject does not signify greatly to me.”
“Mrs. Hurst perhaps not,” said Darcy. “Miss Bingley still resides under your roof and may therefore imagine herself entitled to an opinion.”
Bingley leaned back slightly, considering.
“Well, if I recollect correctly what you told me two years ago when you decided against yielding to your aunt’s objections...” He smiled faintly. “You argued that the heart ought occasionally to prevail over family expectation.”
Darcy’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
“Love over duty,” he said quietly.
“Yes.”
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Darcy inclined his head once. “Then, my friend, you have my support in whatever you decide.”
Bingley’s expression softened with genuine gratitude.
Darcy returned his attention to the remaining correspondence, breaking open a letter from his steward concerning several tenant disputes in Derbyshire.
After a moment Bingley said, with studied casualness, “I am curious about something.”
“That alone suggests danger.”
“You seem to find it remarkably easy lately to speak with Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy did not look up immediately. “Why do you say so?”
“I merely observe that you and Miss Elizabeth appear to have arrived at a considerably better understanding than when you first met.”
Darcy lifted his head then and met Bingley’s eyes directly.
“Yes,” he said at last. “We have.”
Bingley’s brows rose slightly. “I confess I expected either denial or deflection.”
“She is very intelligent. More so than most people I have encountered in recent years.” Darcy paused briefly. “She reminds me somewhat of Clara.”
The name entered the room quietly.
Darcy lowered his eyes almost immediately back to the letter in his hand.
Bingley’s expression altered at once. “Darcy...”
“It is not the same,” said Darcy calmly. “Only...” He paused. “Miss Elizabeth possesses something of the same habit of observing everything whilst pretending not to.”
Bingley smiled faintly. “I remember the first time we met her. She spent half the dinner in Leeds laughing and terrifying the gentlemen with her arguments.”
“Clara considered most of them idiots,” said Darcy, the corner of his mouth lifting briefly.
“She was usually correct.”
Darcy’s smile faded almost as quickly as it had appeared, though Darcy remained aware that Bingley was still watching him, apparently allowing the memory to settle before speaking again.
“Miss Elizabeth would be very gratified to discover she has at last earned your approval.” Bingley said at last.
“I do not believe Miss Elizabeth regulates her self-worth according to my opinion.”
“No,” Bingley agreed warmly. “I suppose not.”
Darcy adjusted the arrangement of the papers before him, though without apparent purpose.
At length Bingley spoke again, more carefully this time.
“You know,” he said, “there was a time not long ago when you appeared firmly convinced Miss Elizabeth could offer you very little worth discovering.”
Darcy’s hand paused briefly against one of the folded letters.
“Yes,” he said.
Bingley waited.
Darcy looked down at the desk a moment before saying quietly, “I was wrong.”
The admission settled heavily between them.
Bingley, wisely, did not smile.
“And now that you have reminded me of it again,” Darcy continued, “I suppose I ought properly to apologise to her for what I said.”
Bingley’s expression altered immediately. “Apologise?”
“She was standing not far from us at the assembly,” said Darcy. “I am certain she heard every word we said. She looked directly at me afterward. Marsh believes so as well.”
“Really?” Bingley frowned. “Are you certain she heard?”
“At the time,” said Darcy dryly, “your newly discovered acquaintance with Miss Bennet appeared to render every other concern in the room considerably less important. I cannot therefore blame you for failing to notice Miss Elizabeth standing only a short distance away while we spoke.”
Bingley laughed outright.
Darcy merely shook his head before returning his attention to the letter in his hand.
* * *
“Do not become overbearing, Charles,” said Caroline Bingley, setting down her teacup with a faint shake of her head. “You have asked Jane how she feels at least five times this morning already, and she has answered you every time.”
Bingley, seated beside Jane at the breakfast table, coloured slightly at his sister’s observation. Darcy, who had witnessed at least three of the inquiries himself, suspected Caroline had not exaggerated greatly.
“I assure you I am considerably improved, sir,” said Jane with a smile that reached her eyes before turning politely toward Miss Bingley. “Indeed, I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude for the kindness shown to my sister and myself during our stay here.”
“You are very welcome, Jane,” said Caroline smoothly.
“And I confess I am delighted to see you looking so much restored. Mr. Jones’s visit this morning is surely little more than a formality at this point.
” She stirred another spoonful of sugar into her tea.
“In anticipation of a favourable report, I have already instructed the carriage to be prepared to convey you and Miss Eliza back to Longbourn this afternoon.”
Darcy glanced briefly toward Jane.
Caroline was not wrong. Miss Bennet appeared vastly improved from even the previous evening.
And yet, much as he had spent a considerable portion of the previous night attempting to persuade himself that distance from Elizabeth Bennet was both proper and necessary, he could not entirely avoid noticing that Caroline appeared even more eager for the sisters’ departure than reason alone required.
The thought had scarcely settled before Caroline addressed him directly.
“And what do you intend to occupy yourself with today, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy looked up from his tea. “Sorry?”
“I was wondering whether you had any plans for the day,” said Caroline, her tone deceptively light as she stirred her tea once more. “You have been remarkably sociable these past several days. I merely wondered whether the habit was to continue.”
As much as Darcy wished to answer with something sufficiently dry to discourage further inquiry, he realised, with some irritation, that Caroline was not entirely incorrect. He had indeed spent more time in company during the previous three days than during several weeks before them combined.
More inconvenient still, nearly every eye at the breakfast table had turned toward him.
“I thought I might answer some correspondence received this morning,” he said at last.
“Ah, letter writing,” said Mrs. Hurst with immediate amusement.
“Mr. Darcy performs it beautifully,” said Caroline. “I have always admired his handwriting.”
“I agree entirely,” said Bingley cheerfully.
Darcy directed a look toward his friend which ought properly to have inspired caution, though Bingley, oblivious as ever, only continued buttering his toast.
“Will you be writing to Georgiana?” Caroline asked.
“He did receive a letter from her this morning,” Bingley supplied helpfully. “Darcy never neglects his sister’s correspondence.”
“Do send her my regards when you write,” said Caroline. “It has been so long since we have seen one another. I look forward very much to renewing the acquaintance.”
Darcy suppressed a wince.
He disliked exceedingly the manner in which Georgiana had become, in Caroline’s hands, less a person than an instrument for teasing implication.
Without entirely considering the decision beforehand, he turned toward Elizabeth.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “are there places in Meryton suitable for a person in my situation to take the air?”
Elizabeth, midway through raising her tea, paused visibly. “I do not entirely understand the question, sir.”
“A place where a carriage may reach comfortably,” said Darcy, hearing the abruptness of the inquiry only after it was already spoken. “Where the ground is level enough for a bath chair and the paths manageable.”
Elizabeth blinked once, plainly surprised by the seriousness of the question.
Before she could answer, Caroline gave a short laugh as though the matter itself were absurd.
“Mr. Darcy vastly overestimates Hertfordshire if he imagines Meryton designed with such considerations in mind. I find the streets difficult enough myself to navigate properly and I possess considerably fewer...” Her voice faltered abruptly.
The unfinished sentence settled heavily upon the table.
Darcy looked at her steadily.
Caroline lowered her eyes at once and occupied herself unnecessarily with the eggs upon her plate.
Elizabeth spoke only after a moment. “I can only recommend places I know personally, sir.”
“I believe that will suffice,” said Darcy.
“Well...” Elizabeth considered briefly. “Oakham Mount is pleasant, though perhaps only the lower paths for ease of access. And there is the river near Mimram, which is generally level enough for wheels. The old mill path near Meryton bridge is manageable also.”
Darcy nodded with genuine attention.
“The common ground is tolerable as well,” she continued, “though only when the militia are not using it for drills. It becomes rather noisy then.”
“My cousin Fitzwilliam speaks of military drills with alarming enthusiasm,” said Darcy, a trace of amusement entering his voice. “I confess I should not object to witnessing one myself if they would permit it.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I imagine they would be deeply honoured by the inspection.”
Bingley laughed immediately.
“All excellent suggestions,” Darcy continued. “Marsh may not yet know the roads particularly well, though I suppose a guide may be found when necessary.” He inclined his head slightly. “Thank you.”
Elizabeth returned the gesture with a smile so open and genuine that, for one deeply inconvenient moment, Darcy became aware of an unpleasant sensation somewhere beneath his ribs.
He took another sip of coffee almost immediately and found the feeling passed.
Across the table, he remained aware of Caroline and Mrs. Hurst observing the exchange with poorly concealed interest, though for once he found himself caring very little what conclusions either woman attempted to draw.
The conversation diminished gradually afterward into smaller and less dangerous subjects until Mrs. Goddard entered the room to announce that Mr. Jones had arrived.