Chapter 12
As the carriage pulled up before Bingley’s townhouse, Darcy looked out the window with a smile. After a long and dreary winter, the first tender blossoms were appearing on the trees, even if the sky remained a distinctly leaden grey.
Georgiana had noticed as well. “Oh, look, how lovely!” she exclaimed. “I felt as though spring would never come.”
“It was a long winter, to be sure,” Darcy allowed, helping her down.
Being expected, they were quickly shown through into the drawing room to exchange the first bows and pleasantries with their host.
“Well, I assume you are all ready for the return journey to Pemberley?” Bingley inquired. “It was good of you to come and allow us to see you before you departed.”
“Most of the preparations have been made, yes. I am waiting for some news from my manager to buy some supplies for the estate. But most of the travel arrangements have been set.” Darcy sat down, and Georgiana came to sit beside him on the settee.
She seemed oddly tense. It might simply be a return of the old shyness, but she had not acted so around Miss Bennet or her aunt.
Subtly, Darcy tried to follow her gaze, but that led to nothing.
Georgiana was only looking at Miss Bingley.
Surely his sister was not particularly shy of her.
He placed a hand on both of hers, frowning to himself as he felt how tensely she held them.
Thankfully, the gesture seemed to do some good.
Georgiana let out a breath and looked over at him, releasing some of her tension.
That was a relief, for it would be a considerable inconvenience if his sister remained uncomfortable around Caroline Bingley.
He could hardly invite Bingley to Pemberley without also extending the invitation to his sister.
As though his thoughts had summoned her, Miss Bingley came to sit in the chair beside the settee, which was closest to Darcy. “It will be a frightful bore here in London without the three of you,” she sighed. “Would that we could all travel to the same place and be together.”
“I shall miss our friends too, but so it must be. We all have a great deal of business to attend to. It has been a long winter. I think we will all do well to go our separate ways for a while, and get some work done while the sun shines,” Bingley said cheerfully.
“I, for one, have many improvements planned for the grounds at Netherfield Park.”
“Have you thought of purchasing the estate rather than continuing to let it?” Darcy asked.
It would be a better option financially.
Not to mention that he would not have to ask permission of the current owners for things he had in mind to increase the value of the property.
Darcy was sure that the owners would be happy to allow Bingley to make any improvements he saw fit, for it would only increase the value and the asking price of the estate if they decided to sell someday.
“I have thought of the possibility. But I am still unsure,” Bingley said. Darcy suspected that Miss Bingley had had a great deal to do with that uncertainty. Caroline Bingley was only too apt to tell her younger brother what to do, and she had made no secret of her distaste for the neighbourhood.
“Well, I would consider purchasing the house before you do too many improvements. Elsewise, the current owners will only drive up their price on your hard labour and funds.”
Bingley frowned. “I have not thought of that.”
“That is because you are too apt to like people,” Caroline Bingley said. Darcy frowned, not caring for the edge of contempt he detected in her tone. “Mr Darcy gives sound advice. You should wait to make any changes until after the deed is securely in your hands.”
“But you were the one who said I ought to reconsider settling in that part of the country,” Bingley protested. “You said —”
“Nonsense,” Miss Bingley cut him off. “You would do well to listen to Mr Darcy. He is so much wiser than either of us in these matters.” Miss Bingley flashed him a brilliant smile. “Whatever would we do without your friendship and guidance?”
“You are much too kind, Miss Bingley,” Darcy replied dryly.
A shame that he could hardly inform her that he did not care for flirtation consisting of agreeing with everything he said, and insulting others in the process.
He could not help but think of Elizabeth Bennet and her quiet, yet firmly held beliefs.
She was honest in her convictions, never feeling the need to apologise for her beliefs, and yet she engaged anyone who disagreed with her with openness and respect.
Miss Bingley glanced around Darcy toward Georgiana. “Have you seen the new pianoforte I convinced my brother to purchase? I would be so honoured if you would grace us with a song or two, dear Georgiana. Your opinion would mean so much to me.”
Darcy almost rolled his eyes heavenward at the blatant flattery being smothered on his sister. But Georgiana was too gracious to refuse. And she could never have enough time to play.
“Thank you,” Georgiana said shyly. “I had noticed the instrument. It is almost too beautiful to play.”
“I have tried my hand at it a few times. But it takes a veritable master to make it sing, I think,” Miss Bingley said, walking with Georgiana over to the pianoforte.
As Georgiana began to play a piece from memory, Miss Bingley sauntered slowly back.
She draped an arm over the settee as she came to sit beside Darcy.
He nearly rose from the settee in disgust. So that was her game — she had asked Georgiana to play to ensure a clear field for herself.
“Such news there has been of late!” Miss Bingley announced. “But likely you know far more of what goes on in London than I do, Mr Darcy.”
“I am not sure of that, Miss Bingley. Perhaps you might tell me what news you had in mind.”
“Well! There is the Archer engagement,” she began. “Likely you have heard all about it.”
“I am afraid I have not,” Darcy told her, making no attempt to conceal his lack of interest. “Though I am not acquainted with the principles, I wish them joy.”
“But that is not the only news, of course,” Miss Bingley went on hurriedly. “Have you heard the news about the great fire they had on the other side of Town? It has been all over the gossip columns for the last few days.”
Darcy frowned. “No, I had not heard about a fire.”
“Apparently, several houses burned to the ground, all because of a chimney fire.” Miss Bingley told him. “I suppose that is why they call it Cheapside. It seems like a tinderbox ready to burst into flames at any moment. For my part, I would not be caught dead on that side of London.”
Darcy’s heart rose into his throat. “Cheapside?” he asked hoarsely. “What part of Cheapside?”
Miss Bennet and the Gardiners…surely it could not be them.
“Oh, it was Gracechurch Street, I believe.” She gave a flippant twist of her wrist and looked down at her nails, as if the subject was of little matter.
“Indeed, I believe the little family you invited to the supper party was affected. The Garters? The Granders? Whatever their name was. I should think they will be forced to leave town now. Their house practically burned to ash. Or so I hear.”
Miss Bingley’s playful smile fell away as she met his gaze. No wonder, for she could hardly have missed the look of horror on his face.
Georgiana, too, had overheard. She stopped in the middle of a line, striking a discordant note, and rushed to his side. “We must go to them at once, Fitzwilliam. Oh, poor Miss Bennet! Poor Mrs Gardiner!” Georgiana wrung her hands. “And what of the children? Was anyone hurt?” she asked Miss Bingley.
“I am sorry, I do not know,” Miss Bingley replied, seeming a little abashed.
That was something, at least. She had seemed almost gleeful to report that the Gardiners had lost their home, but at least the reminder of how deadly a fire could be did not leave her entirely untouched.
“Oh, Fitz, we must find out what has happened, and help them if we can,” Georgiana exclaimed. “Can we not do something?”
Darcy took her hand, squeezing it firmly in reassurance. “We can, and we will.” He turned to his friend. “The Gardiners and Miss Bennet are our particular friends. Please forgive me, Bingley, but we must leave immediately.”
Bingley nodded. “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Darcy. Let me know if I can do anything to help.”
“Thank you, Bingley. I will keep that in mind. I am sorry that our last visit is cut so short.”
Bingley shook his head, understanding and good-natured as ever. “Think nothing of it.”
Miss Bingley stood abruptly. “You are truly leaving so soon?”
“We must.”
With hardly a word more exchanged, they left the house. Though Georgiana begged to go to Gracechurch Street with him, Darcy would hear none of it.
“No, Georgiana, and that is final. I would be no fit guardian if I let you do such a thing. It may be dangerous.”
“But —”
“Listen, Georgiana. It would not benefit Miss Bennet and the Gardiners to take you with me. I will take you home and go on horseback. The speed may be of considerable advantage.”
“Very well,” Georgiana said, her voice little more than a whisper. She looked almost faint with worry.
Darcy hugged her lightly about the shoulders. “Do not fear for them, Georgiana, not yet. I will bring you news as soon as I can.”
No sooner had he seen her safely home and in the care of Mrs Annesley than Darcy went on to Gracechurch Street to begin his search.
Perhaps there was a neighbour who could tell him what had happened.
Upon arriving at what remained of the house, Darcy was nearly sick.
It was little more than a charred skeletal structure, still smoking in places from the intense heat that had devoured it.
A light rain began to fall as he exited the carriage and walked up the front steps that now ended in a sheer drop-off into a pile of rubble.