CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“ Here —at Pemberley?” Bingley cried.
“Yes, and she is staying at the inn at Lambton,” answered Darcy, “with her aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.”
Bingley’s eyes darted around the room as his mind churned frenetically. “Where do—how do I—”
“She is expecting Georgiana and myself to call on her. Naturally, you may accompany us if you’d like.”
“I must find Burke and have a change of clothes!”
“We shall take the curricle, then,” said Darcy with a smile. “Will you ride on horseback?”
“Yes, I shall take Quinton!”
“I will have him fetched and ready for you.”
“Good, good—now I—” and without another word, Bingley dashed from Darcy’s study to his guestroom, shouting for his valet, Burke, to be brought immediately.
Bearing in mind that Darcy planned to invite Miss Elizabeth Bennet for dinner, Bingley chose his second finest available ensemble and rushed his man at every turn. He could see from his window Darcy and Georgiana departing up the lane, which in turn, caused him even greater impatience with the deliberation Burke took in dressing him. In normal circumstances, Bingley was abundantly thankful for the time and careful consideration with which his valet made him fit for sight, but today, it was all he could do not to leap from the window and onto the back of Darcy’s carriage. Once he was dressed respectably, he hurried downstairs and was grateful to find Quinton waiting for him, reigns in the hands of Vessey the stableboy. Bingley practically leapt from the second to bottom step, calling a quick, “thank you!” over his shoulder as he galloped off.
In town, he handed his horse off to Robert Toomey and bounded into the inn where he was directed to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner’s chambers. When he was within three steps of the room it dawned on him that he had run up the stairs, so he purposefully slowed his stride before entering.
“Miss Bennet,” he said with a bow, trying to control the pace of his breath. “How delighted I am to see you.”
“And you, as well, Mr. Bingley,” she answered.
Jumbled thoughts suddenly swirled around as he suddenly wondered if Elizabeth might not wish to see him because of the circumstances surrounding his parting with her sister.
“May I presume you to be in good health?” he asked.
“I am, thank you, and yourself?”
“Yes, very good, indeed,” he answered, having no recollection, at that moment, of the nasty fall he had suffered so recently. He did think that she appeared to be pleased to see him and he took that as encouragement. “And your family are in good health?”
“Yes, all are in perfect health,” Elizabeth replied kindly. “May I inquire after your sisters?”
Sisters? he thought absentmindedly as his brow wrinkled slightly. Who are my sisters?
“Oh yes, they have arrived with me just this morning—and Mr. Hurst.”
“I am happy to hear it so.”
“Is this your first time in Derbyshire?”
“Yes, it is.”
“How have you enjoyed it?”
“It is magnificent—stunning, even.”
“I do not disagree,” Bingley answered. “It is certainly one of the finest counties in the whole of England; although I equally fancy Hertfordshire.”
“Do you?”
“Undoubtedly. It may not possess the wild qualities of the north, but its beauty and charm are second to none.”
“Bingley, may I introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner?”
“Oh, of course,” he answered, turning toward Darcy. “My apologies—”
“There is no need for apology,” Mr. Gardiner stated after having been introduced. “We understand you have been acquainted with our niece for some time, or our nieces , should I say?”
“Ah, yes, sir,” Bingley replied a bit awkwardly. “Since autumn, in Meryton.”
“And you have come from town just recently?”
“Yes, just arrived this morning,” he answered pleasantly.
Darcy and Georgiana sat with Elizabeth while Bingley conversed with both Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. They talked of the road conditions, the itinerary of their holiday, and their various and complimentary impressions of Pemberley at some length, but at every opportunity, Bingley did steal glances toward Elizabeth in order to attempt to ascertain whether she harboured ill-will toward him. He did, additionally, find himself mulling what resemblance there was between her and sister. To his mind, Jane was the most handsome woman he had ever encountered, and though it was undoubtedly true that Elizabeth was a startling beauty in her own right, there was enough dissimilarity between their appearance that the two might have been confused for cousins, rather than siblings.
When the occasion presented itself, he turned his attentions back toward Elizabeth. Darcy and Mr. Gardiner were engaged at present with discourse on fishing, whilst Georgiana and Mrs. Gardiner discussed the magnificence of the music room at Pemberley.
“It has been a very long time since I have had the pleasure of seeing you,” Bingley blurted. Before she could formulate a reply, he added: “It is above eight months. We have not met since the twenty-sixth of November, when we were all dancing together at Netherfield.”
“Yes, I believe it was.”
“And your sisters are in good health?” Bingley queried, thinking with regret his tone may have betrayed his eagerness.
“Yes, sir, they are all excellent; though one has left Longbourn recently.”
Momentarily he forgot that Lydia was in Brighton and panicked at the thought that Jane had been married. “ Which sister?” He noticed Darcy look over at him in censure. Bingley managed a subdued smile.
“Lydia,” answered Elizabeth. “She has gone to Brighton for the summer with Mrs. Forster.”
“Oh, how lovely,” he panted in relief. “And the rest of your sisters— all of the rest of them—remain at Longbourn?” Elizabeth nodded and smiled sweetly. The corners of his mouth darted upward suddenly before he spoke once more with a shade of true lament: “I deeply regret that it has been such a lengthy separation.”
He could see that she was hesitant in preparing a reply and he wondered yet if, perhaps, she and her sister did not regret the disunion between them. His heart quivered with the very thought as he anxiously anticipated her answer. It did not escape his attention, though, through much mental strain, that she continually glanced toward his friend. Eventually, she looked back toward him and said, “It has been too long indeed , Mr. Bingley.”
“It pleases greatly me that you share my opinion.”
In reply, she smiled and then glanced off toward Darcy again, who was still absorbed in confabulation over trout and tackle with Mr. Gardiner. When she looked back to Bingley, she drew breath to ask a question, but stopped herself before the first syllable came out. Rather than press her, Bingley only smiled while she diverted her gaze.
Before they knew it, more than a half hour had passed in discourse of the most pleasant variety. When the visitors rose to leave, Mr. Darcy called on his sister to join him in expressing their desire to entertain Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner as their guests for dinner at Pemberley. Once the engagement was arranged for the evening after next, the party bid their leave.
“It is a great pleasure to have the certainty to see you once more, at least, before you depart the country,” Bingley addressed Elizabeth. “I look forward to the opportunity to speak with you again. I still have much to say to you and… many inquiries to make about all of our shared friends in Hertfordshire.”
“I would like that a great deal, Mr. Bingley.”
When they departed, Bingley rode Quinton at a gallop out of the village and through the park until he sensed the horse begin to tire. They slowed to a gait where Bingley felt himself breathing nearly as hard as his horse. They walked on slowly through the woods until they reached a small pond where the rider dismounted and led Quinton to drink. By this time, it was well after noon and the sun was bright overhead. His thoughts swirling all about, from the exhaustion of his travel and the astonishing delight at seeing Elizabeth Bennet so unexpectedly, Bingley dared to hope that Jane still held him in high regard. Her sister certainly did not seem put off by his appearance. In fact, he imagined that Elizabeth had seemed rather pleased to have been reacquainted with him. Bingley was certainly delighted to have confirmation that Jane was not married or engaged, though he wondered yet again how long he could rationally expect her to remain so.
Under the weight of such thoughts and the heat of the day, Bingley suddenly felt faint. Having gained no relief from undoing his cravat and peeling off his coat, in a flash of spontaneous abandon, he further disrobed down to his shirt and drawers—having the momentary flicker of sanity to remove his watch—before scampering toward the edge of the pond and diving in headfirst. The naively unexpected chill caused his muscles to seize momentarily, and he burst through the surface, gasping and laughing. Pondweeds brushed against his ankles, generating a shiver up his spine, as he paddled further toward the centre of the lake. He swam with the giddiness of a child for nearly half an hour before climbing back up the bank and collapsing on his back in the grass. Basking in the sun’s warmth, he allowed himself the bliss of imagining Jane by his side and thought that truly nothing on earth could ever make him happier.
Putting his breeches and boots back on, he walked Quinton to the stables and entered the house by the kitchen, grabbing a hunk of bread as he passed, and motioning his thanks to the kitchen maid, whose carrot chopping ceased in shock when she recognized the man. Bingley passed up the stairs in the east wing, with the hopes of avoiding detection, before withdrawing to his quarters in order to wash and change clothing, chewing on the warm bread with vivacity. In the hall of the guest rooms, however, he encountered Caroline whose jaw dropped at the sight of him. He nodded his head, and with an easy grin, breezed past her and into his lodging, taking delight in the fact that he had finally managed to render her speechless.