CHAPTER TEN #2
"Then he is more biddable than Pippin," Elizabeth said, brushing a raindrop from the dog's ear. "She cannot abide being left behind and will not be reasoned with. Stubbornness, not resolve. We share that failing, I fear."
Pippin squirmed to be let down, and Elizabeth obliged her. At once, the spaniel bounded toward Apollo, who sniffed her politely before joining her in a lively run across the lawn. Their easy play seemed to please Darcy, though Caroline’s sigh of disapproval was not lost on him.
“I hope they will not soil the terrace,” Caroline said with delicate concern. “Our servants have just finished sweeping it.”
“They will remain on the grass,” Darcy replied, his tone mild but unyielding. “Apollo knows his boundaries.”
Elizabeth’s eyes danced. “And Pippin will surely follow his example. She is an excellent judge of company.”
Caroline’s smile faltered. “Indeed.”
Inside, the ladies were shown to the drawing-room, where a low fire burned to chase the damp chill of the wet afternoon.
The scent of rain drifted in each time the door opened, mingling with that of polished wood and freshly brewed tea.
Mr. Bingley looked up from his place near the hearth, his whole countenance brightening the moment Jane entered.
“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth—how very kind of you to come out on such a day! You have brought sunshine with you, though the sky will not oblige.”
Mrs. Hurst arranged herself upon the sofa with practiced grace, her gaze fixed upon Jane with an admiration that did not quite conceal envy. “I must say, Miss Bennet, the weather has done you no harm. The country air agrees with you exceedingly well.”
“It does, ma’am,” Jane replied serenely. “We are fortunate to live where even the rain has its beauty.”
“Though,” Caroline added smoothly, “I suppose too much quiet and too much rain must sometimes weary you. There can be little diversion near Longbourn in such weather.”
Elizabeth’s smile was light. “We contrive to be entertained, Miss Bingley. A large family provides variety, if not silence.”
Darcy, seated nearby, looked up from his cup. Though his expression remained composed, Elizabeth caught the faintest gleam of amusement in his eyes.
Mrs. Hurst leaned forward with polite curiosity. “Charles tells us you have a cousin visiting, a clergyman, is he not?”
“Yes,” Jane replied. “Mr. Collins.”
Caroline’s brows lifted. “Indeed? Just visiting, I suppose, or has he come for something more permanent?”
Elizabeth understood at once. Her father's lack of a male heir—and the entailment of his estate—was common knowledge.
“Perhaps visiting, perhaps more,” she said lightly. “Either way, we like to think family is always welcome at Longbourn, whatever their purpose.”
“Of course,” Caroline agreed with false sweetness. “Family is everything, Miss Eliza. Where does Mr. Collins hold his living?”
“For a patroness in Kent, Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” Elizabeth replied. “She is, I believe, your aunt, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy looked up from his cup, visibly surprised. “She is. May I ask how you came to know that?”
“Our cousin is not one to keep his good fortune to himself,” Elizabeth said. “When he learned of your friendship with Mr. Bingley, he was delighted to discover a connection to his patroness. I am surprised the whole of Meryton doesn’t knows it yet.”
Darcy’s lips curved faintly. “That is indeed surprising. I do not believe we have met. When last I visited Rosings, the living was still vacant.”
“He has only lately accepted it,” Elizabeth replied.
Darcy inclined his head. “Then I look forward to making his acquaintance.”
Caroline gave a small laugh, brittle and forced. “How very extraordinary that the Bennets’ cousin should serve the aunt of Mr. Darcy. Hertfordshire grows more interesting by the hour.”
“England is smaller than it seems,” Elizabeth said pleasantly. “Mr. Collins will be overjoyed to learn that his patroness’s nephew expects to meet him.”
Darcy’s quiet laugh followed hers, and Caroline’s smile faltered at the sound.
The talk turned to London. Miss Bingley, eager to reassert command of the conversation, leaned forward. “Have you ever spent a season there, Miss Bennet?”
“Not a season,” Jane answered, “but we often visit our aunt and uncle, the Gardiners. They live in Gracechurch Street.”
Louisa exchanged a small glance with her sister. “Gracechurch Street? Near Cheapside, is it not?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, her smile unwavering. “A most convenient location for all manner of respectable trade.”
Darcy looked toward her with quiet admiration. “I recall that part of town. The streets are well kept, and the society, I am told, as steady as any in London.”
Mrs. Hurst went still. Caroline's practiced smile slipped for just a moment before she caught it. They clearly weren’t expecting his response. "You are generous, Mr. Darcy," she said, her laugh brittle. "I cannot imagine you have ever walked those streets yourself."
“Not often,” he said, unruffled. “But I have visited several parts of London on business. It seems unjust to censure what one does not know.”
Conversation lingered on the topic of the city until Mrs. Hurst, still restless, turned the discussion again. “So, aside from the clergyman and your relations in Cheapside, have you any other family?”
Elizabeth caught the insult beneath the question but answered calmly. “Our Aunt Phillips lives in Meryton.”
“That is the woman I met two days ago?” Bingley asked with cheerful interest.
“Yes,” Jane said.
“A lovely woman. Very agreeable,” Bingley declared warmly.
Caroline inclined her head, her tone cool. “Pray tell, what is her husband’s profession?”
“Our uncle Phillips was an attorney before his passing three years ago,” Elizabeth said. She could see the faintly amused exchange of glances between the sisters, and though she kept her composure, she felt her patience fray.
Mrs. Hurst gave a delicate smile. "How unfortunate for you. A modest family circle must make society rather... limited."
Caroline nodded with feigned sympathy. “Family is everything, Louisa, no matter its size. Though, of course, not all families possess the same degree of refinement.”
Elizabeth only smiled and raised her cup. “Refinement, I think, is often far less pleasant than affection. A few relations with genuine kindness are enough to make one content in family life.”
The sisters’ expressions tightened, their poise disturbed for a moment too long.
Bingley, eager to dispel the silence, said with his usual cheer, “We must persuade your sister to visit soon, Miss Bennet. Netherfield grows dull in such weather, and it seem your visit bring it to life at once.”
Jane blushed, and Elizabeth’s irritation softened at her sister’s happiness.
Just then, two wet noses appeared at the window. Apollo and Pippin pressed eagerly against the glass, their tails wagging, the drizzle gleaming on their coats. Pippin’s paw left a damp print upon the pane, to Caroline’s visible dismay.
Darcy rose without hesitation and went to the door. “They have been patient long enough,” he said, opening it himself.
“Mr. Darcy,” Caroline began sharply, “surely you do not mean to let them in. The floor will be ruined, and I cannot stay in this room if they—if anything untoward should occur.”
But before her protest could continue, the door was open, and the dogs bounded inside. Apollo entered first, elegant and calm, while Pippin ran straight to Elizabeth, scattering a few drops across the carpet.
Elizabeth bent to greet her, laughing softly. When she rose, she found Darcy watching her with a warmth he did not attempt to disguise.
“They seem inseparable,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” she replied. “And quite indifferent to propriety.”
Their gazes met, a silence of shared amusement passing between them.
Caroline’s voice broke it at once. “Perhaps, as the rain has eased, we should all take a turn about the garden,” she said with false brightness.
“An excellent idea,” Bingley agreed. “It will do the dogs good, and us as well.”
Darcy nodded. “The air has cleared. Let us go.”
And with that, the party made their way toward the terrace, the tension of the room following them into the damp, shining light of the late afternoon.