Chapter 22 #2
There was something in it – something quieter, more certain – that affected her more than she would have expected.
At length, she said, still half smiling, “I shall accept them, then – on the condition that you do not again deprive me of such a surprise.”
“I shall endeavour,” he said, “to avoid doing so.”
Across the room, Lydia was watching with undisguised interest.
“Well!” she whispered to Kitty. “If that is not courting, I do not know what is. How Mama could miss it, I’ll never know.”
Kitty nodded eagerly. Mary, though more reserved, did not entirely disagree.
Mrs. Bennet, though much occupied in receiving the gentlemen with proper attention, did not fail to observe that Mr. Darcy’s manner, whenever disengaged, returned with particular constancy to Elizabeth.
She said nothing but was not without her own conclusions, now that she did not think it impossible for a rich gentleman from London to be interested in her daughter.
And Elizabeth, though she continued to speak with composure, was very sensible that the morning had brought a distinction which could neither be misunderstood – nor easily forgotten.
She had thought herself equal to every situation; yet she was not certain she had ever been so little at ease with her own composure.
***
Friday morning had passed with even less composure than Elizabeth might have wished.
She had not long been in the breakfast parlour when a servant entered with a note. “For Miss Elizabeth, ma’am.”
Elizabeth suspected the sender. She opened it without delay.
Miss Elizabeth,
I hope you will forgive the liberty I take in writing. How fortunate it is that you are second in the line of daughters. It is a privilege that I can call you by your first name… but I digress.
I shall not have the pleasure of waiting upon you at my earliest hour today as I would wish.
After such a lovely invitation from your sister (well, it is partly true), I asked my sister to join me here.
Georgiana is to arrive at Netherfield near noon.
If it meets with your family’s convenience, I would wish to introduce her to you, and should therefore attend at Longbourn later in the day.
I remain, and that Mr. Darcy should wish it – should arrange it with such readiness – spoke of an intention which, however lightly expressed, admitted of very little uncertainty.
He had to write to her by the beginning of the week.
Elizabeth felt again that quiet warmth which had risen upon first reading the note, though it was now tempered with something else.
She was not, she told herself, a person to be hurried into conclusions. Yet she could not be wholly indifferent to the manner in which he pursued them.
The house, meanwhile, had already begun to stir into unusual activity.
Mrs. Bennet’s voice was heard in the passage, issuing directions with increasing urgency; a servant was dispatched, another recalled, and a third made to stand still long enough to be instructed twice over.
Lydia declared that nothing short of a grander arrangement than any previously attempted would suffice for such an occasion; Kitty agreed, though she could not say precisely in what it should consist.
Jane, as ever, sought to moderate. “We must not appear as though we were expecting too much,” she said gently. “It is only a morning visit.”
“A morning visit!” Lydia repeated. “When Miss Darcy comes! I am determined she shall not think us dull.”
“She will not think so,” Elizabeth said, turning from the window at last. “If she forms her opinion from you, Lydia, she will be very secure of that.”
Lydia laughed, perfectly satisfied with the compliment, whether intended or not. “I shall prepare a display of our hats for us to discuss.”
Elizabeth smiled at her and took her seat again, though she did not resume her breakfast.
“Do you know much of Miss Darcy?” Jane asked, watching her with quiet interest.
“Very little,” Elizabeth replied. “Only that she is much younger than her brother – and very much under his care.”
“And that she is accomplished,” added Mary, who had entered unnoticed. “Mr. Darcy has said she plays the pianoforte exceedingly well.”
“Then she will be a great addition to our society,” Lydia said. “We have no one who plays well enough to make it worth listening.”
Mary coloured slightly but said nothing.
Jane smiled. “I dare say she will be very agreeable.”
Elizabeth inclined her head. “I hope she will be at her ease.”
“You think she may not be?” Jane asked.
Elizabeth hesitated. “If she resembles her brother at all,” she said, with a faint smile, “she may not immediately delight in new acquaintance.”
Outside, the morning had brightened.
The uncertainty of the previous day had passed, and though the air retained its coolness, the light was clearer, steadier – as if the weather itself had resolved to favour what was to come.
Elizabeth rose at last.
“If Miss Darcy is to be received,” she said, “we must at least attempt not to alarm her at the threshold.”
“And how is that to be achieved?” Lydia asked.
“By behaving,” Elizabeth returned, “with as much composure as we can command.”
Lydia laughed again. “Then we are lost already.”
Elizabeth smiled, but as she left the room, the note was still in her hand.
She folded it once more, more carefully than before, and slipped it into her pocket.
For all her efforts at composure, she was very sensible that the day promised something new – and that she was not entirely indifferent to it.
***
The same morning had not long advanced when Mr. Bingley sought his sister.
Miss Bingley was in the smaller drawing-room, her work untouched before her, though she held it as though engaged. She looked up at his entrance with a composure which, though carefully arranged, did not entirely conceal her expectation.
“Charles.”
“Caroline,” he returned, with an ease that was not quite his usual lightness. “I wished to speak with you.”
She set her work aside. “Indeed?”
“We are to go to Longbourn this afternoon.”
There was the slightest pause.
“We?” she repeated.
“Yes. Darcy is bringing Miss Darcy. You and Louisa will accompany me.”
Miss Bingley’s expression did not immediately change. “I was not aware that such a visit had been determined. Did you say Miss Darcy is to be introduced to the Bennets?”
“Yes, but that is none of our business. And your visit is due,” he replied, “it is very proper that it should be. The ladies have already called here. It is time you returned their civility.”
Caroline rose slowly. “You speak as though we were settled here for a permanence I do not recollect agreeing to.”
Bingley met her look. “If we mean to be part of this neighbourhood, we must act the part.”
There was something in his manner which made her attend more closely. “And if we do not mean it?” she asked.
“Then we should not have come at all,” he returned, with quiet firmness.
She was silent a moment.
“And is there any particular reason,” she said at last, “why this visit must be made today?”
Bingley hesitated only briefly. “There is.”
Caroline waited.
“I have been made aware,” he continued, “that a letter was written from this house to Miss Bennet during my absence.”
Miss Bingley’s colour altered slightly, though her composure held. “A letter, Charles?”
“Yes.” He spoke now without uncertainty. “You will accompany me… and you will set the matter right.”
Her eyes fixed on him. “I do not understand what you require of me.”
“I require very little,” he said. “Only that you do not leave her under an impression which is not true.”
“And if I believe it was true?” she returned, more sharply.
Bingley shook his head. “You had no right. I do not care what explanation you offer,” he said, more steadily than she had ever heard him speak on such a subject. “Only that it be one which does her no injustice.”
A brief silence followed.
“And if I decline?” she asked.
“You will not.”
There was no warmth in the words, but neither was there anger. Only decision.