Chapter 2
GENEROUS
They returned to Hertfordshire the next afternoon.
When the following morning at Netherfield dawned with uncommon brightness, both men hastened to the stables to make their way to Longbourn, where Mrs Bennet was overjoyed to greet them.
She spared just enough breath to summon her daughters forthwith before ushering the two gentlemen into her warm sitting room.
As they awaited the presence of the ladies, Mrs Bennet obligingly filled any potential silences with every bit of local news they had missed since Bingley had gone away.
Darcy struggled under such attention but could still admire the way Bingley easily settled himself in.
His friend listened to Mrs Bennet with all apparent politeness until he suddenly stood with a smile for the eldest Miss Bennet when she joined their party.
Darcy followed suit and came to his feet.
When he saw Elizabeth following her sister, he bowed.
“And so, you see, we are all well, just as you left us,” Mrs Bennet continued.
“Is not my Jane just as beautiful as when you last saw her at the ball? And so very patient she has been with your going away, and with the changes here in our house. For you see, our houseguest, Mr Collins, has also gone, for my Lizzy dared to refuse his offer! Now he will only come back again to claim Miss Lucas as his bride. Oh! The less said on that subject, the better, I daresay! There has been enough to-do to be had hereabouts in the past se’nnight since you went to town.
I never let it be said that our society here in the country is ever dull, despite what some may think. ”
Darcy’s hands began to tremble where they grasped the saucer under his coffee cup.
Although he assumed that the last jibe had been aimed at him, it was not those words that had made him start.
It was what Mrs Bennet had revealed so artlessly: that Elizabeth had very nearly been taken to wife by his aunt’s ridiculous rector, Mr Collins.
There was nothing he could do to restore his equanimity except focus on his gratitude at her near escape.
But no sooner had he thanked the stars for that very spirit in Elizabeth which allowed her to resolutely know her own worth, than he castigated himself again for dismissing her very worthiness in his own mind.
Elizabeth betrayed her discomfort at her mother’s words only by shifting in her chair. Darcy studied her face for signs of distress but discovered to his relief that she instead turned her gaze to the unfolding scene of happy reunion between Bingley and her sister.
Darcy’s own gaze followed, drawn by curiosity and concern for his friend.
Yet, a mere moment’s quiet observation did away with the last of his doubts.
Only a scornful judge of human feeling could mistake the blushing pleasure on Miss Bennet’s lovely face for anything but delight at Bingley’s resumed attentions.
How blind he had been until now! How foolish, too, in his arrogant assumption that Miss Bennet’s reticence had represented a lack of engaged affection. If anything, I reckon it is a testament to the power of those very feelings she has thus far sought to conceal.
Self-recrimination tempted Darcy even as he watched Elizabeth’s joy for her sister grow. As her glance darted between the animated faces of the two lovers seated opposite her, her bright eyes kindled with the glow of satisfied hopes.
Mrs Bennet was far less subtle in her own satisfaction.
“Well, well,” she declared. “Now you are returned to us, Mr Bingley, I am sure there are more tidings of our friends that my daughters could tell you. Before the good weather is gone from us, you ought to go for a turn in the garden. All too soon we shall be trimming the last of the greens to bring into the house. Better to take the air now.”
Darcy watched Elizabeth blush and blush again for her sister’s sake as Mrs Bennet practically shooed the young people out of the house.
Elizabeth had barely the time to help her younger sisters into their cloaks and bonnets and button her own pelisse before Mrs Hill was called upon to open the door.
Darcy was still working his hands into his gloves as he strode out after her.
She drew up short when she heard his steps, pausing long enough to notice his efforts and frown.
“I am afraid my mother is far too eager to forward the reunion of your friend and my sister,” she said.
“I apologise for all this rushing about, Mr Darcy.”
Darcy’s chuckle made her glance up at him. “Your mother is no less eager than my friend is himself, I daresay,” he observed wryly. “You will note that Bingley is hardly complaining.” He nodded towards the couple, already ambling arm in arm ahead of the tittering younger Bennet girls.
“Neither is Jane,” replied Elizabeth, smiling with amused pleasure. “Do I share my thoughts too freely, Mr Darcy, when I say how very much it pleases me to see my sister so happy, and that it makes me value your friend all the more for making her so?”
“There is much to value in Bingley,” replied Darcy with sudden earnestness.
“He at first seems a bit young and quick in his decisions, it is true. I admit to having tried to guide him at certain points during our friendship, but he has lately proved himself his own man in many respects. Indeed, I find myself learning from his example, even now.”
Elizabeth lifted a brow. “You surprise me, Mr Darcy.”
Darcy had surprised even himself with such a confession, but he could not regret speaking so plainly.
“I am glad to know you are still sketching my character, Miss Elizabeth. It would not do for you to set it in stone so soon in our acquaintance. What was it you once said? That ‘people themselves alter so much that there is something new to observe in them for ever’…?”
If his earlier reply had surprised her, this latest observation seemed to make her positively start. She stopped walking beside him and stared up at him, her beautiful eyes wide.
Tempted to revel in his ability to affect her so, Darcy merely smiled down into her gaze and offered her his arm.
She took it readily but turned her eyes away, so it was left to Darcy to lead them onwards.
They walked on past the dreary hedges edging the garden until Miss Lydia began to complain of the cold.
Warm again with firelight and brandy in the study at Netherfield, Bingley’s eyes were aglow as he leaned towards Darcy.
“And did you see how she received me? Not a moment’s hesitation, only the most endearing blush, the most gracious manners, the utmost delight and pleasure.
I cannot imagine why I even considered your assertions of her indifference to me in London.
When I had her on my arm, and especially when I took her hand, I knew—I knew from the way her grasp sought mine that she felt the same eager affection I felt within myself. Jane Bennet loves me!” he declared.
“I am happy for you, Bingley,” Darcy said, smiling and setting aside his glass before adding, “and I believe her own sister can confirm you are correct.”
“Oh?” Bingley’s eyes widened with interest. “Forgive me, friend, I nearly forgot your purpose in coming back with me to Hertfordshire. You walked out with Miss Elizabeth today, did you not? Was it she who confided this to you?”
Darcy felt his ears beginning to burn again and wished he could blame the brandy. “It was,” he affirmed quietly.
Bingley leapt from his chair, pumping his fist in the air and crowing, “There is no room for any doubt! Jane Bennet is in love with me as much as I am with her!”
“Do you still intend to offer for her?”
Bingley blinked, lowering his hand. “Of course, man. Whyever not, when I am so certain of our mutual affection?”
Darcy had more advice on the tip of his tongue, but he restrained himself, realising that further counsel was likely unwelcome.
And more than that, it seemed unnecessary; Bingley had eyes enough to see the flaws in the Bennet family and mind enough to know their circumstances.
His friend had his own convictions and courage and considerations to make, and had already done so, as he had made clear in London. There was nothing more to be said.
The gentlemen returned to Longbourn the very next morning. Mrs Bennet had no sooner drawn breath to greet them than Bingley, with more speed than even his usual quickness, begged the matron’s favour in requesting a moment alone with her eldest daughter.
With a flutter of giggles and skirts, the youngest daughters abandoned the sitting room, whilst Mrs Bennet went hying up the stairs herself, crying out for Hill to summon Miss Bennet.
Bingley stood calmly, his ebullience undimmed by the chaos. He merely smiled at the last daughter left in the room—Elizabeth—and quipped, “I see my own enthusiasm precedes me.”
Her answering laugh was like bright music. The sound made Darcy pause in his discomfort to enjoy it, and the sheer pleasure it evoked was enough to crack the carefully schooled expression on his face. He soon realised he was grinning almost as brightly as his friend.
At the sound of approaching footsteps from the hall, Darcy turned and suggested, “Miss Elizabeth, this morning’s weather seems fairer than yesterday. Would you care to—?”
“Certainly, Mr Darcy,” she answered with distracted alacrity. She arose to sweep through the doorway with Darcy just as Miss Bennet’s flushed, wide-eyed face came into view. Elizabeth gave her an encouraging nod before moving aside to allow her sister and her suitor some privacy.
Out in the vestibule, Darcy stood with hat in hand. “Miss Elizabeth, I do understand if you do not wish to truly walk out with me. I would not delay your pleasure, nor keep you from partaking in any happiness produced by this interview.”