Chapter 23
The carriage rolled steadily northward, the late afternoon light slanting pale across the winter fields. Darcy sat opposite his sister and stepmother, one gloved hand resting against the leather strap at his side, his thoughts moving far more restlessly than the wheels beneath them.
Only three days had passed since he had dispatched his letter to them by express, requesting they join him at Netherfield. He had followed several hours later, arriving at Darcy House just as the women had finished their supper.
Lady Anne had looked at him with quiet scrutiny. “A ball? You request our presence for a ball?”
“I should value it,” he had replied evenly.
Georgiana, who had been seated beside the fire with her music, had risen at once. “We are to go to Bingley’s estate?”
“For a short visit,” he had said.
Lady Anne had studied him a moment longer.
“And is there some particular reason for our journey beyond Mr. Bingley’s hospitality?”
Darcy had hesitated briefly before saying, “Yes, there is. I shall explain on the journey, if that is agreeable to you?”
His stepmother gave him a long, measuring look, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Yes, very agreeable. I should like to see for myself what you have discovered in Hertfordshire.”
Her agreement to his plan was much different than when he had spoken of it to Elizabeth. He could still recall the flicker in her expression when he told her must travel to London. It had lasted scarcely a breath—disappointment swiftly masked.
“You leave so soon?” she had asked.
“Only briefly. I shall return in good time for the ball.”
“And London requires you?”
“My stepmother and sister,” he had said. “I would like for them to join me here for a time, and I would feel more comfortable escorting them myself.”
Her countenance had altered at once—surprise first, then something steadier. “I shall look forward to meeting them.”
He had assured her of his return. Assured her, too, that he intended to claim the opening set—and, after a pause, the supper set as well.
“You presume a great deal, sir,” she had said.
“I do.”
“And I suppose,” she had answered, the faintest smile touching her lips, “that I shall permit it.”
The memory lingered pleasantly, but then a small jolt of the carriage signaled their departure from the London streets and onto the road towards Meryton.
“Brother?” Georgiana was watching him closely. “Will you tell us now why you want us to come to Hertfordshire?”
Darcy did not answer at once. He adjusted his gloves with unnecessary precision. “I intended to send you a letter,” he said at last, “but I decided it was best to speak of it in person—and without anyone overhearing.”
Lady Anne regarded him with quiet interest. “That implies there is something to be spoken.”
“There is.”
Georgiana leaned forward slightly. “Is it about Mr. Bingley?”
“Only indirectly.”
A small pause followed.
Lady Anne’s voice was calm. “Then it concerns you.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I have been much in company with a family near Netherfield,” he said. “One in particular.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened at once, though she remained silent.
Lady Anne, however, did not. “And?”
“I have been paying my attentions there,” he said, evenly but without evasion.
The words settled in the carriage between them.
Georgiana’s hands clasped together in her lap. “You mean—”
“Yes.”
“For how long?” Lady Anne asked.
“Some weeks.”
“And you did not think to inform us?”
Darcy allowed the faintest hint of a rueful expression. “I attempted to. The letter did not progress beyond the first page. I could not find the right words to adequately describe her.”
“What is she like?” Georgiana asked eagerly.
“She possesses uncommon quickness of mind,” he said. “Her wit is lively without being unkind. She speaks her thoughts plainly. She does not defer merely because others expect it.”
Lady Anne’s lips curved faintly.
Lady Anne’s mouth curved slightly. “That must be a formidable lady.”
“She is,” he said simply. “Something in her manner and appearance reminds me of Lady Catherine; it is how she first came to my notice at an assembly.”
“Oh, did you dance together?” Georgiana asked in delight.
“Yes.”
“But you never dance! It must be love.” His sister gave a little sigh and pretended to swoon onto the seat.
“I think it may be that, yes,” Darcy admitted.
“She sounds lovely,” Lady Anne said softly. “I look forward to meeting her very much.”
Georgiana’s face became solemn. “Do you think she will like us?”
Lady Anne glanced up from the small reticule she had been adjusting but did not speak.
“Why should she not?” he asked gently.
Georgiana folded her hands together. “You describe her as lively.”
“I do.”
“I am not.”
Lady Anne’s brows rose faintly.
Darcy regarded his sister steadily. “Elizabeth values sincerity above display. You possess that in abundance.”
Georgiana’s shoulders eased a fraction, though her gaze remained thoughtful.
“She will not find me dull?”
Lady Anne’s posture altered almost imperceptibly. “Georgiana,” she began, but her voice faltered, and she looked pleadingly at Darcy.
Darcy understood. There was no artifice in his sister’s concern.
It was an honest apprehension, born of long habit.
And Lady Anne—though composed—did not entirely escape the implication.
She had lived much of her life in the shadow of stronger personalities, her sister among them. Vivacity had not always favored her.
“I do not think so,” he said slowly, organizing his thoughts. “She is fondest of her sister Jane, who is quiet and unassuming.”
Georgiana looked up at him with wide eyes.
“And she loves her dearly,” he continued. “When Jane fell ill some weeks past, she walked three miles through mud to attend her.”
“Three miles?” Georgiana breathed.
“In heavy mud. Miss Bingley nearly had a fit of the vapors upon seeing the state of Miss Elizabeth’s boots.”
Georgiana giggled, and Lady Anne arched an eyebrow. “I suppose the downside of this visit is having to make do with her fawning and flattering.”
Darcy laughed, then explained all that had occurred since Miss Bennet first fell ill at Netherfield. “It has been gratifying to see Bingley come into his own,” he concluded. “I think you will find the visit more restful than you would normally expect.”
Both ladies let out twin sighs of relief, causing all three occupants to smile.
“Trust me when I tell you that Elizabeth will see you both for who you are: kind, loving women,” Darcy assured them.”
Their journey continued in silence for a for several long minutes before Darcy realized he had not given them all of the news.
“You may also encounter an old acquaintance. George Wickham is presently in the area.”
Georgiana’s face lit at once. “George is there?”
“Yes.”
Lady Anne’s composure sharpened. “And in what capacity?”
“He holds a commission in the militia. He appears… settled.”
“Appears?” Lady Anne asked quietly.
Darcy met her gaze. “He is financially secure. He has not touched the principal my father left him. And he conducts himself with more steadiness than in former years.”
Lady Anne regarded him for a long moment, then inclined her head.
“That is something.”
Georgiana’s delight returned. “It will be pleasant to see him again.”
The carriage pressed onward, the hours passing pleasantly as the fields giving way gradually to the now-familiar lanes of Hertfordshire and Meryton.
Tomorrow, Elizabeth would meet the two women whose judgment he valued most, and Darcy knew—despite all his careful assurances—that the simplicity of the introduction belied its consequence.
He could only hope the meeting proved as easy in truth as he had made it sound.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth sat anxiously in the drawing room at Longbourn, attempting to focus on her embroidery in order to pass the time more quickly. Her efforts were in vain, however, and the design looked much more like the head of a dog than the bouquet of wildflowers it was supposed to be.
She set the hoop aside with restrained irritation.
The rest of her family had obligingly removed themselves for the morning.
Mrs. Bennet was returning calls with Kitty and Lydia in eager attendance, and Mary had accompanied them, desirous, no doubt, of exhibiting her new dignity as an affianced lady.
Jane had been asked to pay a call on a tenant family, leaving Elizabeth alone remained to receive the Darcys.
She had not objected to the arrangement; indeed, she had been grateful for it.
When at last the carriage wheels sounded upon the gravel, her palms grew slightly sweaty. She rose, smoothed her gown unnecessarily, and reminded herself that she had met formidable persons before and survived the encounter.
Darcy entered first, bowing with his usual reserve. Behind him came Lady Anne and Miss Darcy.
Elizabeth curtsied.
Lady Anne was not imposing in stature. She was slight, her movements quiet and unhurried. Dark hair framed a pale countenance, and her eyes—
Elizabeth’s breath caught almost imperceptibly.
Green.
Not precisely her own shade, but near enough to be unmistakable.
Lady Anne seemed equally struck. Her gaze lingered upon Elizabeth in open assessment, widening faintly before she recollected herself.
Giving herself a small internal shake as introductions were made, Elizabeth focused her attentions on the young woman introduced as Miss Darcy. The girl was lovely in a quiet way, her fair hair and delicate features lending her an air of timidity in spite of her taller, well-formed frame.
“Please, do be seated. Would you care for something to eat?”
“You are very kind,” Lady Anne replied softly. “Tea would be most welcome.”
Georgiana inclined her head. “Thank you.”
Elizabeth poured, grateful for the familiar occupation of her hands. “You have had a comfortable journey, I hope?” she asked.
“Quite so,” Lady Anne answered. “The roads are in good condition for the season.”