Chapter 20
Darcy strolled around the well-loaded trestle table as the servants finished their work, taking in both the fine luncheon they were to enjoy and the appreciative comments of his household and guests.
“What a lovely cake, Mrs Reynolds!” Georgiana exclaimed as a large sponge with cream and cherry compote was laid out by a footman among the other platters and dishes. “When we asked for a picnic luncheon, we had no idea there would be anything as fine as this, and so quickly, too!”
A gaggle of girls and young women invited by Georgiana from neighbouring estates made “oohs” and “aahs” at the sight of the cake.
Their fathers and older brothers were already sipping chilled wine with equal appreciation while their mothers conversed happily with Elizabeth Bennet about the generosity of the impromptu picnic table.
“My word, look at that ham!”
“Hush, dear, there is no need to make a display of yourself. Anyone would think I kept you on bread and water.”
Trying not to laugh as he turned, Darcy saw Sir Christopher Fenchurch near the impressive haunch of cold roast ham, licking his lips and rubbing his hands.
For this, the amiable baronet was gently scolded by Lady Fenchurch, who nonetheless held her husband’s arm affectionately and laid her head against his shoulder.
How would it feel to know such warmth and affection?
With a distinct touch of wistfulness, Darcy could not keep himself from wondering.
Although it was something his parents had been fortunate to possess, he knew little otherwise of such devoted marital love.
This was a strange and sentimental subject that he tried to put from his mind.
The day was fine, the party was happy, and they had much to celebrate.
“Mrs Reynolds always outdoes herself when hospitality is required, and I daresay Mrs Perkins, the cook, deserves equal praise today,” Darcy remarked, glad to see how these compliments made the housekeeper’s cheeks glow with pride.
“I shall pass on your kind words to Mrs Perkins too, Mr Darcy and Miss Darcy. She does like to know that her food is appreciated, and it is a special day, hearing about Mr Bingley’s engagement, of course.”
“I certainly think this luncheon will be appreciated today,” Elizabeth Bennet said laughingly, her sparkling eyes glancing over the increasingly eager neighbours beginning to circle the tables, waiting only for the servants to complete their laying out and Darcy to give the word.
“Do tell Mrs Perkins that it might be the most wonderful picnic I have ever seen.”
“Or I,” added Bingley. “My word, I expected nothing so fine as this, and at so little notice!”
“Mrs Perkins will be most obliged to hear that, Miss Bennet, Mr Bingley,” said the satisfied housekeeper. With a proud smile and a last, satisfied nod at her work, Mrs Reynolds walked back towards the house, leaving a footman and maid to help serve the food and wine.
How joyful Elizabeth Bennet looked today, Darcy observed, watching her moving among the ladies of the party and then going to Georgiana’s side.
His sister and her young friends all seemed most pleased by Miss Bennet’s presence among them and keen to engage her attention.
Darcy could understand why. Was any other young woman so vibrant, so alive, at once so witty and so sensible? No wonder the girls looked up to her.
How fresh and pretty Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked in her white summer muslin and blue wrap!
Being outdoors seemed always to suit her complexion and bring out her smile.
As he gazed upon the young companion, he heard a giggle from one of the girls in the group and saw her whisper something to a friend after glancing at Darcy.
Unsure whether he had inadvertently done something amusing, or whether he was guilty only of being Georgiana’s brother and an unmarried man under thirty years, Darcy decided to move on with the afternoon with haste.
Taking a spoon from the table, he tapped it against his wineglass to draw the party’s attention.
“Thank you all for coming over to Pemberley at such short notice today. It would be criminal to leave this fine feast too long in the sun, but I did want to say a few words before we eat, both of congratulation and celebration. As you know, my friend Charles Bingley is soon to be a married man…”
It was an easy speech to make, given the ease of the gathering and the pleasantness of the day. Bingley himself was beaming as brightly as the sun, and Elizabeth Bennet looked scarcely less pleased on her sister’s behalf.
“…so finally, I ask you all to raise your glasses to Mr Charles Bingley and Miss Jane Bennet and join me in toasting their future joy.”
After glasses were raised in a toast to Bingley and his betrothed, the cheers that followed were both loud and heartfelt. The sound of Elizabeth’s laughter among the rest was clear and distinct in Darcy’s ear.
“Thank you all. I am to be the happiest man in the world!” Bingley accepted all well wishes cheerfully.
The happiest man in the world… If Bingley was to be the happiest man in the world, it would be because he had allowed neither social disadvantage nor lack of fortune to deter him from the woman on whom he had set his heart.
Nor had he allowed his own nerves to get the better of him in making an offer for Jane Bennet’s hand.
Darcy could not look at his own conduct with such satisfaction; he had failed on every count.
At the start of their acquaintance, his pride, prejudices, and stiff manners had turned Elizabeth Bennet’s mind and heart against him.
By the time he understood both his own feelings and the merit of that quick-witted and stubborn young woman, they seemed already to have taken up positions on opposite sides of a battlefield.
Although they were now in a temporarily peaceful state of truce, Darcy hardly dared to hope that Elizabeth’s regard for him was anything more than as an employer and as Georgiana’s brother.
As a man, did she think of him at all? As long as she was Georgiana’s companion, Darcy could not decently say or do anything to ascertain this fact.
Part of him wished for the courage to propose, and another part forbade it absolutely. At times, Darcy felt little short of crushed between these two contradictory instincts.
“Darcy, may we eat? I am famished,” broke in Bingley’s voice as his friend appeared beside him and slapped him on the back. “You seem to be in a daydream.”
“Forgive me,” Darcy said swiftly, starting and then smiling sombrely at this reminder of his duty as he gestured towards his waiting guests and then to the table. “Yes, luncheon is served. Let us all eat and drink and enjoy this fine afternoon.”
“That’s the spirit,” Bingley said with a grin.
∞∞∞
Luncheon was largely finished, the cake served, and the party broken into different groups scattered between the picnic tables, the wooden benches beside the main path or the lawn.
Young men stretched out beneath trees while their parents dozed in chairs.
Georgiana and her friends sang a country song in very good form.
Darcy, Bingley and Miss Elizabeth still sat together with almost empty glasses, discussing Bingley’s plans for Netherfield after his marriage.
“I must buy Jane her own horse, don’t you think, Miss Elizabeth? It could be my wedding present to her.”
“Jane does love to ride,” agreed Elizabeth. “I’m sure that would be a most thoughtful gift. At Longbourn, there is only one horse suitable to carry a lady. I doubt my father would think to part with so docile and reliable an animal, even though my younger sisters do not ride.”
“Do you ride, Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked curiously. “I realise that I have never seen you on horseback.”
“You have never suggested that Georgiana and I go riding,” she replied bluntly, but then shrugged. “It is like many other things that I do adequately but have never cared enough to do well. Would you like me to take Georgiana out riding while we are here, Mr Darcy?”
“We could all go tomorrow,” Darcy suggested. “What say you, Bingley?”
Bingley sighed and shook his head.
“I must return to Netherfield. I promised Jane that I would not be away long.”
“Then we must not keep you,” Elizabeth replied quickly. “I am sure we will all see you again soon enough, at the wedding, if not before.”
“Yes,” agreed Bingley brightly and looked ready to state once more his supreme happiness when a maid came walking purposefully along the path towards them with a letter in her hand.
“An express for you, Miss,” the young woman said, holding out a letter towards Elizabeth.
“An express?” Elizabeth repeated in surprise, taking the letter and looking at it front and back with first concern but then pleasure. “It is from Jane. Another letter already! How keen she must be to talk of her wedding plans to write to me by express.”
“Do send your sister my love when you write back,” Bingley pleaded. “Tell Jane that I miss her.”
“You will likely arrive in Netherfield before my next letter,” Elizabeth laughed, rising from the table.
“Do excuse me while I read this privately, gentlemen. It is likely all about wedding clothes, bridesmaids, and other matters which my mother will surely be fussing about already. It can be of no interest to either of you.”
“Of course,” Darcy responded, immediately standing and bowing.
His eyes followed Elizabeth Bennet’s sprightly figure as she retired to a distant bench, partially overgrown by a fragrant yellow shrub, settling there to open her letter.
“When does Mrs Annesley return?” Bingley asked Darcy, following his gaze.
“Later this summer.”
“And where will Miss Elizabeth Bennet go after she leaves your household?” his friend enquired further.
“I cannot say,” Darcy answered heavily, this thought too weighty even for speculation. “I cannot say, Bingley.”