Chapter 8
Although Mr Darcy had not been the one to advise Bingley to go to Longbourn and discover Miss Bennet’s true feelings, his agreement with his friend’s plan nevertheless had a favourable influence.
They met that evening at the club when Darcy and the colonel returned to London; it was no coincidence, for Bingley had been seeking them for several days, hoping for their return.
With considerable anger, he learned—almost by chance—that Miss Bennet had been in London for nearly two months, and had even visited her sisters, who, taking advantage of his removal to his new house, had not informed him.
It then became clear to him that he loved her, and that, whatever opposition he might encounter, he was resolved to discover whether her feelings were the same. From Louisa, and not without difficulty, he obtained the address of her uncle, determined to seek him out and ask his advice.
But first, he wished to speak with Darcy.
“I shall marry Miss Bennet if she will still have me.” Bingley avoided looking at his friend as he spoke. He was calm and resolute in a manner Darcy had rarely witnessed.
“Tomorrow, I shall leave for Netherfield—alone—go directly to Longbourn and ask her forgiveness…and her hand…if she still wishes to accept me. She is the love of my life.”
Darcy inclined his head. They were dining at their club, only a day after his return from Rosings.
“I know you do not approve of my decision, but Miss Bennet is the lady I love, and my opinion of her is of the highest. I regret that we differ on this matter, and I hope you will, in time, amend your opinion of her.”
Darcy looked at him with an open and composed countenance. “My dear friend, it is your decision. I was wrong to interfere as I did. Pray proceed as you intend, and from this moment I shall stand by you in whatever course you choose.”
Bingley could scarcely believe what he heard.
Darcy seemed altered, and it was not only his words—so different from before—but his whole manner.
It was as though some of his severity had been softened.
It was difficult to define, but his friend appeared more indulgent, more tolerant than he had ever been.
“Do you truly agree with me?” Bingley asked again.
“You do not require my agreement. In matters of such consequence, you must act only upon your own judgement and feelings. Forget me—your sisters—everyone.”
“Thank you. It means a great deal to have you on my side. I wish to marry and to be happy with Miss Bennet, and I believe she is the only woman who can make me so.”
“I wish to marry, too,” Darcy said unexpectedly, his gaze fixed upon the glass of brandy in his hand.
The declaration astonished Bingley. Never before had Darcy spoken of marriage in such a manner. Though it was the general expectation of society, many young men delayed such a step, preferring their liberty, and Darcy had always seemed among that number.
“Do not look so astonished,” Darcy said, with a faint attempt at humour. “I have enjoyed the freedoms of a bachelor long enough. At nearly thirty, a man must begin to consider his future—his family, his children. The time has come for me to seek a wife.”
Encouraged by what had passed, Bingley ventured further. “Have you some particular lady in mind—one who has led you to such a resolution?”
Darcy laughed—but there was little gaiety in the sound. Though he spoke of marriage, there was no appearance of happiness in his countenance.
“Not all men are fortunate enough to find the love of their lives.”
“But you may still wait for her. You are young—perhaps she is nearer than you suppose.”
Darcy shook his head with marked agitation. He seemed far from expecting such happiness.
“No. It may prove fruitless, or perhaps I am not formed for such attachments. For me, marriage must be a rational decision. It is what my father did, and he was happy until my mother’s death. Indeed, it is what most men do. They marry from various motives, not solely from love.”
“And how do you intend to find such a wife?” Bingley asked, somewhat uncertain, just as the colonel approached their table.
They rose and exchanged greetings.
“I have just escaped from a most tiresome dinner,” he said, though his cheerful tone contradicted his words.
He is the most agreeable man I know, Bingley thought, regarding him with admiration.
“I advised you not to go,” Darcy said, smiling, and they both exchanged a look that left Bingley entirely at a loss.
“He has been dining with Lady Warrington,” Darcy continued, “whose assemblies resemble those of our aunt at Rosings—she speaks, and the company listens. The only advantage in London is that the dinner is excellent.”
The colonel readily agreed. “What he neglects to mention is that Lady Warrington has two daughters, no sons, and considerable property—and that those daughters are the sole heiresses.”
“We are fortune-hunters,” Darcy said, and again they laughed.
“Well, I am not so hypocritical as to deny it,” the colonel replied.
“Yes, but you bring to the bargain your agreeable disposition and a respectable family name.”
Bingley looked from one to the other in astonishment.
The colonel was always ready for jest, but Darcy was generally more serious; yet this evening, they seemed engaged in some understanding from which he was excluded.
Soon after, he took his leave, having resolved to set out for Netherfield early the next morning.
“He is really going to Netherfield?” the colonel asked, surprised.
“Yes—and it proves that I was not entirely a bad influence. I merely helped him to recognise the strength of his attachment.” Darcy’s tone was subdued, and the colonel studied him with concern.
In Bingley’s presence he had appeared composed, now, once alone, his distress was evident.
“I am glad he returns to Netherfield…and to Longbourn.”
“You might accompany him tomorrow and settle everything.”
Darcy turned to him in astonishment. “What do you mean? She refused me—and declared she would never marry me…or something still more decisive.”
“From what you told me, her strongest objection concerned her sister’s unhappiness. That is now likely to be remedied. Bingley is on his way to Longbourn—you might be so as well.”
Darcy shook his head decisively. “No—certainly not. I have reflected upon the matter. I am hurt, I admit, but she is not the wife I require.”
The colonel began to reply, but Darcy silenced him with a weary gesture. “I know what you would say—love, passion. They are significant, but marriage is, in the end, a matter of daily life. The first year passes, and the rest remains. Let us rather find a wife suited to that.”
“Let us?” he repeated, with some surprise. He knew Darcy’s disposition too well to expect him to accept guidance.
Darcy smiled faintly. “Perhaps I have changed—or perhaps it is an undertaking better pursued with your assistance.”
“To prevent your marrying the first woman you encounter?”
“Yes—or at least to say, ‘This one may suit you.’ Tell me—what is your opinion of Lady Agatha Warrington? She is well connected, tolerably handsome, and, as far as I know, unengaged.”
“So that is why you insisted upon my attending that dinner.” Fitzwilliam laughed.
“Perhaps…”
The colonel entered into the spirit of the conversation. He did not much like such deliberations, but he was willing to assist Darcy in diverting his thoughts. It was clear he would not go to Longbourn—not now, perhaps not ever.
“I like Lady Agatha. I have spoken little with her, but she appears agreeable, though at times embarrassed by her mother’s exuberance. Yes—you might pay her your addresses. But are you certain you can do so only a few days after—”
“No, I am not certain. It is a plan only. I prefer my life to be settled. I do not say I shall marry within the month, but by autumn I intend to have a mistress at Pemberley.”
“I rather doubt that Lady Agatha would find Pemberley agreeable for more than a short summer visit,” the colonel said plainly, without any ill intent.
“You see—that is precisely the kind of observation I require. You are accustomed to judging character. Your experience in the army has trained you. I, on the contrary, tend to observe appearances rather than substance.”
“And yet you possess great discernment. You often see more than others.”
“Yes—whether a man is good or bad. But with women, I find myself less certain.” He paused. “So—Lady Agatha would not relish the duties of a landowner’s wife?”
“Most likely not. But the best course is to visit her mother and judge for yourself. A few questions will soon reveal the truth.”
“Yes, I shall send my card. But we must also attend the principal assemblies in town.”
“First of all—Almack’s.”
Darcy looked less than pleased. “Ah…”
“No objections. If you wish to know the most eligible young ladies in London, Almack’s is indispensable. On Wednesday evenings, it is the very centre of the fashionable world—at least, according to Brummell.”
“But I have not attended in some time, nor have I secured a voucher this Season.”
“Leave that to me. I knew Brummell in the army, and I recently rendered him a service after a most unfortunate duel. He will grant me any favour—though we must not delay, for his influence is not what it once was.”