Restoration #2
“Bingley,” he replied, struggling to keep the displeasure from his voice.
Neither spoke again. Bingley seemed lost for words, and Darcy was not yet certain how much he wished to say; thus, he was relieved when Elizabeth struck up a conversation.
“Good afternoon, Jane, Mr Bingley. I hope we are not too late?”
Jane assured them they were not. “Lizzy, Mr Darcy, this is Emma,” she said, proudly indicating the child in Bingley’s arms.
Elizabeth made a feminine noise of appreciation and wasted no time in claiming the infant for closer inspection. Darcy congratulated both parents and resolutely clamped his lips closed.
“Um, I say, Darcy,” Bingley said hesitantly. “Would you do me the honour of stepping outside for a moment, that we might talk privately?”
It could scarcely be avoided, he supposed. He inclined his head and walked back out into the sunshine. Bingley followed him and stood aimlessly looking everywhere but at him. In no humour to alleviate his discomfort, Darcy waited in silence for him to speak.
“I, um…” Bingley began falteringly. He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “I am heartily glad to see you.”
Darcy opened his mouth to avow that he was here for Elizabeth’s sake alone but fell short of speaking the words.
Certainly, her wishes had been uppermost in his mind when he made his last-minute decision to come, for though she had never asked it of him, he knew she longed for a better relationship with her sister, such as a reconciliation with Bingley would allow.
Nevertheless, he must admit that Jane’s determined attempts to convince him of her husband’s remorse had not left him unmoved.
Neither had their increasingly desperate wait for children.
“I am happy that you have been blessed with a child at last.”
“Thank you.” Bingley looked instantly awkward, the reason for which soon became clear. “I do consider her my firstborn. The child in Nova Scotia is… My cousin married the boy’s mother and legally adopted him.”
“Yes, Jane informed us.”
“You approve?” he enquired meekly.
Darcy knew not whether to be flattered or exasperated that he should still desire his approbation of every decision, even after such an injurious break in their acquaintance. “I cannot approve of any part of it, but it is the best outcome for which you could have hoped.”
Bingley coloured, but did not shy from the truth of it and nodded in wry acknowledgement. “I have taken great pleasure in hearing of your growing family. I could not be more pleased for you. Three boys! Jane tells me you are all exceedingly happy.”
“We are.”
“I am glad of it. More to the point, I am glad none of my offences prevented you from achieving such happiness. You deserve it.” The turn of Bingley’s countenance grew uncharacteristically grave.
“I have missed you a great deal, Darcy. I know not what I can say that will ever atone for what I did, though I am profoundly sorry. It is my greatest regret that my selfishness, my abhorrent imprudence, lost me your friendship. I should like, more than anything, for the chance to earn it back.”
It was the sincerest speech Darcy had ever heard him make, but clemency was not his forte, and he had not come today ready to absolve Bingley of all his misdeeds.
He looked away for a moment, angry at having been asked to consider it, and fixed his eyes on the nearest grave marker.
Only then did it occur to him this was the very spot upon which Elizabeth had accepted his hand.
No thought was as likely to humble him, for he well knew what injustices, of his infliction, she had overcome before reaching that juncture.
He sighed deeply, exhaled heavily and then looked Bingley in the eye. “Elizabeth tells me you expressed a wish to Jane that I should be godfather to Emma.”
Bingley nodded, his surprise evident. “I did not know Jane had told her I said that.”
“Do you still wish it?”
“With all my heart! I could not think of a better or wiser person to guide her.”
“Very well.” Darcy gave a curt nod to settle the matter without any undue pathos.
Clearly moved, Bingley thanked him and reached to shake his hand, thought better of it and instead gestured for them to return to the church. “This means a great deal. You are exceedingly generous to forgive me.”
“I have not.” When Bingley cast him a troubled look, Darcy added, “To forgive is divine, and I have no pretensions to saintliness. But Elizabeth has forgiven you, and I have every faith in her judgement.”
“Then I am equally indebted to both of you.”
Elizabeth pulled Darcy away from the crowd milling about outside the church after the service and led him into the lane. Once she was assured of their privacy, she lifted herself onto her toes and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you!”
He readily returned the embrace, though he made no reply.
She pulled back just enough that she could look at him. “You have made them so very happy.”
“I am regretting it already.”
“I am certain you will not, though. Mr Bingley seems far steadier now, much more like the man you first brought to Hertfordshire. And imagine how our boys will adore their new cousin!”
Taking hold of her waist, Darcy gently turned her away from him, pinning her close by spreading his hands over her stomach. “They would adore a new sister more. Think you this one will be a girl?”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth replied happily. “I shall not mind either way, though a girl would even the tables a little. I am entirely outnumbered by men.”
Darcy made a soft scoffing sound. “You have us all at your beck and call, woman, and you know it.”
“But it was not I who made you come here today. Nor I who suggested you agree to be godfather.” She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. “You are so good, Fitzwilliam.”
“It was you who taught me about forgiveness.”
She laughed heartily. “It was I who gave you need to learn!”
“That was no bad thing.” He pulled his hand from her grasp and reached sideways briefly, before bringing his arm back around her and presenting her with a perfectly formed oak leaf. “No one can do the things you do, Elizabeth. I am so in love with you.”
She had ever possessed a sanguine outlook on life, but it was Darcy who, over and again, materialised all her dearest hopes into reality.
Thanks to him, there had been little for which she wanted before today, but for the full restoration of her relationship with Jane, and that he had just given her, despite what mortification it cost him.
Tucking the leaf into her sleeve, Elizabeth twisted in his grasp and brought both hands to cradle his face. With their mouths a hair’s breadth apart, she whispered, “And I with you. Now, pray, kiss me. The way you do.”
The very last thing upon which Bingley would wish to obtrude was the Darcys’ private interlude, and he turned away as soon as he caught sight of them.
Perhaps he might persuade them to return to Netherfield for refreshments before they returned to London; he could find a moment to speak with Darcy then.
He shook his head as he walked away, incredulous at his own stupidity.
He had made many erroneous assumptions about the two people locked in an amorous clinch behind him—concerning his feelings for each of them, their opinion of him, and the insufficiency of their affection for one another.
In every conjecture—and none more so than the last—he had been wholly and utterly mistaken.
He did not think he knew of two people, not even Jane and he, more violently in love than Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy.