Chapter 18 Luncheon at Netherfield
When Georgiana was dressed, the three descended to the dining room together. Darcy rose and drew out a chair for his intended.
“May I serve you?” he asked.
A shy smile touched Elizabeth’s lips. “Bread, cheese, fruit, and mutton, if you please.”
He inclined his head, pleased to be near her, pleased that she was neither angry with him nor distant. “Very well. Let me see what I can do.”
Darcy served Elizabeth, then turned to his sister. “Georgie, what would you like to eat?”
She stood at once. “Thank you, brother, but I shall serve myself. Mary is teaching me to speak French, beginning with the names of foods.”
He smiled at the pair. “Mary, you will do more for her French than her renowned French master. She learned almost nothing from him, much to my aunt’s despair.”
The two friends followed Darcy to the sideboard, serving themselves from the generous spread.
Elizabeth listened to their light conversation as she ate. Across the table, Richard sat beside Bingley, eating heartily, while Mr. Hurst described an American firearm.
“It is a John Hancock Hall invention,” Hurst declared with enthusiasm. “The finest rifle you will ever see. It has a tilting breech-block and a locking mechanism, most ingenious.”
Both men leaned forward, intrigued.
Richard asked, “Did you order it by post, or is there a gunsmith in London who carries it?”
“Neither,” Hurst replied. “An American acquaintance of my brother brought it over. He has ten more and hopes to find a market for them here.”
Richard’s eyes lit. “How might I make his acquaintance? I should like to examine this marvel of a firearm and purchase one, if it proves as fine as reported.”
Bingley added, “And I as well.”
“Colonel,” Hurst asked, “do you return to Pemberley with your cousin?”
“I do. I have twelve weeks’ leave before I report to duty.”
“Then, if Darcy consents, I shall invite my acquaintance to Pemberley. He can bring the rifles with him. I will write today and ask that he set aside three, in case you both wish to buy.”
Darcy inclined his head in agreement, and the talk turned to other subjects.
Elizabeth’s attention drifted toward Jane and Mrs. Hurst, who were speaking quietly at the far end of the table.
“I think I may be with child,” Mrs. Hurst was saying softly. “It has been a long time coming; we have been married three years.”
Jane’s expression was gentle. “What does the doctor say?”
“He says there is no cause for worry. It takes some couples longer than others, but that is easy for him to say, much harder for one to hear.”
Elizabeth’s eye caught movement near the doorway. She turned and met Caroline Bingley’s venomous gaze. The woman stood stiffly, hands clenched in her skirts, her expression dark with anger. A chill passed through Elizabeth. She must take care not to find herself alone with that woman.
Bingley also looked up and caught his sister’s expression. Soon, every eye in the room turned toward Caroline. The men rose instinctively. She composed her face into a false smile and glided forward.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, curtsying, “you look well.”
She turned to Georgiana. “My dear, how do you do?”
Georgiana curtsied. “Miss Bingley.”
Caroline’s gaze shifted to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Darcy made the introduction, and she said with a calculating smile, “So, you are the cousin Mr. Darcy praises so highly, the very man he calls brother.”
Richard bowed. “Just so, Miss Bingley. May I serve you?”
Her eyes lingered upon him. Elizabeth watched her closely, then glanced at the colonel.
He was a striking man, handsome, broad-shouldered, and well-formed.
Caroline seemed to think so as well; she was smiling at him now, like a cat regarding a mouse she meant to toy with.
Elizabeth lowered her gaze before her amusement betrayed her.
“Yes, Colonel,” Caroline said, feigning sweetness. “I will take a little bread and cheese.” Her eyes flicked toward Elizabeth’s plate. “Some of us have a care for our figure, unlike the local girls who eat as though they must toil in the fields, consuming like savages to sustain their strength.”
Georgiana gasped. Richard’s brow darkened. Darcy was half-risen from his seat when Elizabeth laid her hand upon his arm. She met his gaze, her eyes calm, one brow lifting slightly, and then she winked, amused.
He started, then slowly sat back, the corners of his mouth curving upward. Richard, catching the exchange, relaxed as well and went to the sideboard to serve the offending woman with exaggerated courtesy.
At the far end of the table, Bingley looked up and caught Jane’s eye.
She was watching him closely, weighing him.
He, in turn, admired her composure, how unlike the vain beauties of London she was.
He had long been courted for his fortune and his looks, yet this woman’s simplicity and quiet warmth offered something rare and precious: the promise of a tranquil home, such as he had lost when his father died, and Caroline became his charge.
He must not fall short of deserving Miss Bennet.
He rose, crossed the room, and took hold of his sister’s elbow. His grip was firm. He spoke low, confidentially. “You will walk with me quietly, or you will not accompany us to Pemberley. Am I understood?”
She stiffened and nodded.
By now, they were in the hall. He did not release her arm. “Did you already forget the stipulation? You are to behave with civility toward Miss Elizabeth, or be sent to Yorkshire. Come, sister. I will escort you to your chamber. You will dine in your rooms.”
She gasped. “You cannot mean to isolate me!”
He stopped at her door. “Caroline, have you no sense of propriety? You have just insulted Miss Elizabeth. Worse, you threatened her with ruin. You would drag Darcy’s name through the gutter if you exposed the compromise.
He will never suffer you near him again if you do.
Is that what you want, to be exiled from his presence? ”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “No.”
“Poor sister. You cannot restrain yourself, even when it means your own undoing. What shall I do with you, Caroline? Shall I send you to Canada? America?”
They entered her room. “You will enjoy your own companionship for the remainder of the day.”
She glared at him. “I will not.”
“My dear, I will not allow you to embarrass Miss Elizabeth again. Your luncheon and dinner will be sent up on a tray. Until further notice, you will remain in your own rooms. Perhaps solitude will teach you restraint.”
Descending the stairs, he met Grayson in the hall. “Miss Bingley is indisposed and must remain in her room. Send up her meals.”
“Very good, sir,” the butler replied.
When Bingley returned to the dining room, the company was once again cheerful, conversing in small groups. Jane looked up as he entered. Her smile was warm and approving. He returned it, deeply gratified, and taking his plate, seated himself beside her.
They all lingered long after the meal was done, the conversation easy and pleasant, and laughter filled the air.
Richard stood and turned to his young cousin. “Sweetling, would you like to walk?”
Georgiana turned to Mary. “Will you join us? Perhaps you could teach me the names of the trees and flowers in French.”
“Have you seen a Pasque flower yet?”
Georgiana shook her head. “No, I have never heard of them.”
“They are rare and grow only here in Hertfordshire. They bloom at Easter, but there are still a few in bloom. Would you like to see them?”
“I would.”
Mrs. Hurst spoke. “May I come too? I have never seen a Pasque flower either.”
Bingley turned to Jane. “Shall we join them?”
Jane stood when he did. “They are very beautiful. I call them furry Easter flowers. There is a field covered with them, but it may be a half-mile walk from here.”
Elizabeth said, “Not that far. But they are rare, and they bloom for only six weeks.”
Darcy rose. “Will you take my arm? I have a mind to see them myself.”
“Yes. Let me get my bonnet.”
They walked together as a group through the wood that bordered the formal gardens and up a slight incline.
When they reached the top, they saw the other side of the field covered with the strange, lovely plants in different stages of bloom.
Some had already gone to seed, their feathery heads drifting in the breeze, while others were still in bloom, their large purple petals and bright orange centers open to the sun.
The underside of the petals was soft to the touch, covered with fine hairs.
Georgiana squatted and ran her finger along the furry underside of a petal.
“Oh, this is lovely. I have never seen such flowers.”
Mrs. Hurst was equally pleased. She plucked one of the seed pods. “Perhaps I can grow these in my conservatory. I wish I were an artist. I would draw them as a remembrance for when I am old and can no longer climb hills or walk through woods.”
Mr. Hurst laughed. “That is a long way off, my dear. I will bring you back next Easter to see them again.”
Darcy picked a bloom and placed it on the side of Elizabeth’s bonnet. He smiled at her, but his smile faded when he saw hers vanish and her eyes grow shadowed.
“What is it, Elizabeth? You have seemed distressed since I arrived.”
“Mr. Darcy, I need to speak with you privately. May we walk a little way from the others? Perhaps we can stand in the shade of the woods, still within sight but out of hearing.”
“Of course.” He offered his arm, and she took it.
They walked in silence until they were well beyond hearing of the others. She stopped and looked at him directly. Her eyes were large and stricken.
“Is Collins still troubling you? Has he been to Netherfield while I was away?”
Elizabeth’s lashes fluttered, and she looked startled. “No, sir. This has nothing to do with Mr. Collins. This is much worse.”
“Worse than Collins? How can that be?”
“It is Miss Bingley.”
He exhaled, his shoulders easing.