Chapter Six
“What an exceedingly tedious way to spend an evening.” Miss Bingley’s complaints had filled the carriage on the way back to Netherfield and had not ceased until she retired.
Now, the next morning, she renewed her diatribe, much to Darcy’s annoyance.
He simply wished to enjoy his food in peace.
The breakfast room, bright with sunlight and boasting a fine view of the sloping lawns, deserved a more pleasant conversation than Caroline’s perpetual whining.
Darcy smoothed the napkin on his knee and willed himself not to sigh.
“I am sorry you did not enjoy yourself, sister.” Bingley shoveled eggs into his mouth, chewing rapidly before gulping tea.
“I have never had a more enjoyable evening. Everyone was kind and welcoming. Yes, I do think this neighborhood will be perfect for my needs.” His enthusiasm seemed to vibrate in the air.
Darcy could almost see Bingley’s happiness glowing around him—an exuberant aura that even Miss Bingley’s sharp tongue could not fully dampen.
Miss Bingley shook her head. “You are so easily satisfied. Why, I believe even a party filled with rough tradesmen would meet your expectations for ‘good society.’ Really, brother, you ought to be more discerning. Mr. Darcy, do you not agree?” Her tone carried the brittle edge of someone desperate for validation.
Darcy shifted and reached for his cup of tea.
“Anyone might find joy wherever they are,” he said after a short pause.
“I saw nothing wanting in last night’s entertainment.
” Nothing wanting, indeed. His thoughts drifted—unbidden—to Elizabeth Bennet’s smile, to the warmth in her eyes as she teased him, to the brief, electrifying moment when he had stood so near he could smell lavender in her hair.
Miss Bingley laughed shrilly. “Oh, how you jest, sir! I am certain you despised every minute spent in such unrefined company. You were very brave, standing up so often.” Darcy resisted the urge to set her straight. He was not brave—merely bewitched.
“Gentlemen were scarce, and more than one lady sat down without a partner. It was my duty to dance.” And one particular lady had made the duty unexpectedly pleasurable.
“Dancing, a duty? Never! Did you not once say you despised the activity?” Miss Bingley sniffed delicately.
“I can see why. There are not many who could compare to you, both in refinement and skill. It must be a punishment to stand up with anyone lacking.” Her words were coated in sugar, but bitterness radiated beneath.
Darcy felt a flicker of irritation—stronger than usual.
Caroline’s arrogance, once merely tiresome, now grated.
Bingley pushed away from the table, and Darcy glanced up, startled. “Are you going somewhere?” he asked curiously.
“I mean to call upon Longbourn!” Bingley grinned. “Miss Bennet was…Never have I met such a lady. I must know her better.” His whole face shone with earnest admiration. Darcy could hardly fault him. Jane Bennet was loveliness incarnate.
“Really, Charles, it is hardly polite to hasten off in such a manner.” Miss Bingley sniffed.
Darcy agreed on behalf of the younger sister, but he did not say that aloud. “We must go over a few estate matters first,” he hedged. Matters that had the potential to ruin Bingley financially, if not addressed—and soon.
“Can it not wait?” Bingley looked displeased. “Estate matters must be set aside in favor of building lasting relationships with my new neighbors.” Bingley crossed his arms in a rare show of stubbornness.
Darcy blinked at him, thoroughly nonplussed. “Bingley, the lot of an estate owner—”
“Leave off, Darcy.” Bingley’s usually amiable face descended into a petulant scowl. “I shall speak with you on estate matters when I return.” It was such an uncharacteristic display that Darcy momentarily forgot how to respond.
“Are you certain they will be home to callers?” Miss Bingley’s words drew Darcy’s attention again. “It was a late evening.”
“I have it on good authority that the Lucas family calls upon the Bennets after every assembly. Yes, they are accepting callers.” Bingley grinned triumphantly. His excitement was so vivid that even Darcy could not quite begrudge him.
Darcy went back to his meal, effectively ignoring the brother and sister as they continued to argue the merits of calling on the neighbors.
I shall discuss the estate with him when we return.
Yes, Darcy had every intention of accompanying his friend to Longbourn.
A certain lady with fine eyes would be there.
He took another sip of tea, a faint, unwilling smile tugging at his lips.
Horses were made ready for the gentlemen. Miss Bingley staunchly refused to accompany them, much to Darcy’s relief. Her impolite behavior would only dampen the mood.
Bingley chattered amiably as they rode across the fields toward Longbourn. “Miss Bennet is an angel, Darcy! In all of London—no, in all of England, never have I met such a kind, soft-spoken woman. She is everything lovely.”
“You met her only last night, Bingley.” Darcy smiled wryly. “While I am certain Miss Bennet—and her family—are amiable and kind, do not go proposing so soon.”
“Your imagination is very rapid.” Bingley laughed. “Much like my sister’s, going from admiration to marriage in such a leap.”
Darcy cringed. “Pray, do not compare me to Miss Bingley, I beg you.” His friend laughed and launched into another soliloquy about Miss Bennet’s attributes. Darcy ceased to listen; instead, he contemplated the lady’s sister.
“What say you?” Bingley’s query drew Darcy’s attention again.
“Forgive me—I was woolgathering. What was it you said?” One pair of fine eyes and I am a distracted mess. He shook his head.
“I asked if you would aid me in having a private conversation with Miss Bennet. Perhaps we ought to suggest a walk.”
“Capital idea.” The thought of a pleasant stroll in Miss Elizabeth’s company filled him with delight. “I shall agree the moment you propose the arrangement.”
They dismounted in front of Longbourn and rang the bell. A middle-aged woman answered, curtsying and welcoming them inside. They were escorted to a large parlor. The west-facing windows allowed winter light and warmth into the room.
A quick glance around the room showed that the Lucases were not there. Mrs. Bennet greeted them warmly, her three elder daughters standing with her.
“Shall I order a tea tray?” the matriarch asked as they seated themselves.
“Tea sounds lovely, Mrs. Bennet. Perhaps the ladies would be willing to accompany us on a walk. It is a pleasant day—tea would be restorative after.” Bingley grinned in his usual charming way. Mrs. Bennet agreed instantly.
The youngest of the three girls quickly voiced her desire to remain behind, citing a need to attend to another matter. Darcy could not have been more pleased with the arrangement.
The foursome hurriedly gathered their things and set out. The air was cool, but not unpleasant. Bingley and Miss Bennet quickly paired off, and Darcy offered his arm to Miss Elizabeth.
She accepted with a light touch, her gloved fingers warm against his sleeve. Though they began their walk in companionable silence, Darcy soon found himself eager—unusually eager—to hear her thoughts.
“It is a beautiful morning,” he ventured. “Hertfordshire possesses a tranquility I had not anticipated.”
Elizabeth smiled. “We are fortunate with the weather today. Autumn often brings mist and mud. I am glad you were not dissuaded from calling.”
“Nothing could have dissuaded me,” Darcy said before he could stop himself. He cleared his throat. “I mean to say—Bingley was determined.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Of course.”
They walked a few more paces before Elizabeth spoke again, her tone thoughtful. “You must find Longbourn a humble estate compared to what you know in Derbyshire.”
“I find it charming,” he said honestly. “And full of welcome.”
She inclined her head, but a faint tension crossed her features. “I am glad. My father takes great pride in it, though…” She hesitated. “Though it is not to remain in our family.”
Darcy slowed his steps, concern pricking his thoughts. “Forgive me if I presume, but—is Longbourn entailed?”
“It is.” Elizabeth’s voice was steady, but her eyes carried a shadow. “When my grandfather arranged the entail, perhaps it seemed wise. My father had no sons, but they believed more children would come.” She smiled faintly. “Instead, he was blessed with five daughters.”
“That must be a great burden to your household.”
“My mother frets over the entail, naturally, but my father believes happiness of more value than advantage. It is a reality,” she said simply. “Papa and Mama were a love match. They wish the same for us.”
Darcy felt something warm unfurl in his chest. “It is rare,” he said softly, “to find parents who desire love over wealth for their children.”
“And your parents?” she asked gently.
He paused. “They were a love match as well. My mother adored my father. I hope,” his voice softened, “that my sister will know such affection someday.”
Elizabeth’s expression warmed. “You have a sister? Miss Darcy is fortunate to have a brother who cares so deeply for her happiness.”
They walked on, the path winding between bare hedgerows, the soft crunch of leaves marking their steps. Conversation flowed easily—literature, country life, traveling, even a few light jokes that made Darcy laugh more freely than he had in months.
When they turned out of the garden gate, Darcy realized in shock that he had not once felt awkward or restrained.
With Elizabeth Bennet, he simply…was himself. And he wanted very much to stay.