2. Chapter 2 Felicitous Tidings

Chapter 2: Felicitous Tidings

Saturday, 25 April

Gracechurch Street, London

Elizabeth

U pon my arrival, Aunt Modesty Gardiner and Uncle Edward Gardiner provided a warm and enthusiastic welcome. And when Jane came to greet me, the sight of her rosy cheeks and fulgent smile heightened my already elevated spirits: she had not been this gay since November! She and I took the first opportunity for a private talk and left the house to stroll in the garden.

“Oh, Lizzy, there is so much to tell you.” Vivacity lent Jane’s words a high-pitched intonation as she slipped her arm around mine. “I have never been this happy before.”

“I am keen to hear your news.”

“Last Tuesday, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy came to call. You can imagine my astonishment.”

Mr. Darcy had been here! An airy sensation animated my limbs. “You must have been pleased to see Mr. Bingley.”

“Indeed, I was gratified, nervous, and bemused all at once. I told myself not to place any importance on the call and treat him as I should any other guest. But he remained at my side and engaged me for the entire visit. He had been unaware of my presence in town until Mr. Darcy informed him earlier that day. Mr. Bingley declared he would have called at once had he known sooner.”

“And Mr. Darcy…” Egad , I could not utter his name without igniting a blaze in my face and neck. “What did he do whilst you and Mr. Bingley conversed?”

“He spoke with our aunt. I did not follow their discourse, but based upon the way she praised him afterwards, he must have been quite cordial. When they first arrived, he greeted me and asked after my family. Before they took their leave, Mr. Bingley promised to call again the following day.”

So Mr. Darcy had exerted himself to make polite conversation with Aunt Gardiner, allowing his friend the opportunity for a discussion with Jane. I adopted an effortless, fluid gait as Jane recounted Mr. Bingley’s explanation for having remained in London, how Mr. Darcy, Miss Bingley, and Mrs. Hurst had influenced that decision, and Mr. Darcy’s change of outlook after conversing with me in Kent—more proof that Mr. Darcy had fulfilled his promise.

Jane’s grip on my arm tightened. “Mr. Bingley and I sat upon a bench. He declared not returning to Netherfield had been the biggest mistake he had ever made. Then he asked me to marry him. Of course I accepted!”

I jerked to a stop and spun towards Jane. “You are engaged! I am so happy for you!” I held her, and we swayed from side to side.

“Thank you. It feels as though I am living a wondrous dream.”

I wanted to shout for joy: my dearest sister would marry the man she loved! This turn of events surpassed my hopes! Untold minutes passed before I stepped back from her. “Do our aunt and uncle know?”

“Yes.” Jane slipped a hand in the pocket of her pelisse to retrieve her handkerchief and dabbed at the corners of her glistening eyes. “Mr. Bingley went to see Papa on Thursday, so the family knows too. I told Aunt and Uncle Gardiner that I wished to tell you the news myself. Our wedding is set for Tuesday the twenty-sixth of May, and I hope you will stand up with me.”

“Yes, of course I shall!”

She held me in a penetrating stare. “And now, you must satisfy my curiosity. How did you come to have this extraordinary conversation with Mr. Darcy?”

“I shall enlighten you.” We resumed our walk, and I recounted the pertinent details of Mr. Darcy’s marriage proposal, which elicited a gasp from Jane. In my summary of our subsequent discussions, I conveyed Mr. Wickham’s lack of honour without any mention of Miss Darcy; the young lady’s ordeal seemed too personal for me to disclose.

“I always thought better of Mr. Darcy than you did, and his choosing you affirms his excellent taste. He must love you very much.”

“Maybe so.”

Her pale eyebrows lifted. “Why do you doubt him?”

“Although he believes he loves me, what he feels could be a passing infatuation.”

“Well, his affection for you has endured since last autumn.”

“For most of that time, we have been apart. Maybe he fell in love with a pretty notion of who I am, and not my true self.”

“What do you feel for him?”

“I am uncertain. I misjudged him before, so I never really knew him. I am glad he kept his word with regard to Mr. Bingley. They must have had an uncomfortable conversation.”

“Yes, I imagine so.” She beamed at me. “I hope you are prepared to encounter Mr. Darcy again. He and Charles are expected to call this afternoon and stay for dinner.”

So soon? I swallowed. “Yes, I am ready. If nothing else, I hope we shall be friends. After all, due to his connexion with Mr. Bingley, we could be in company often. After you are married, you may call upon me to assist you with your ten children.”

Jane’s giggle blossomed into a silvery laugh. “ Ten children?” Her shoulder nudged against mine. “Heaven forbid!”

***

Jane, my aunt and uncle, and I gathered in the drawing-room. My aunt asked me to describe Rosings Park House. I attempted to appear nonchalant whilst relating my account, but Mr. Darcy’s imminent arrival absorbed me, and my speech degenerated to a plodding pace. I broke off mid-sentence at the faint sound of the front door-knocker.

My uncle’s butler, Barnet, announced Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, and my aunt and uncle went to meet them. A gleeful and congenial Mr. Bingley darted to Jane and greeted her with a kiss upon her hand before addressing me. He accepted my congratulations for his engagement with a wide grin.

All the while, though, Mr. Darcy, who displayed faultless manners with my aunt and uncle, never strayed from my notice. He made a dashing figure in his fine olive-green coat and tan trousers without being showy.

In an earnest tone, Mr. Darcy expressed his best wishes to Jane for her engagement, then he moved before me. “Miss Elizabeth, it is a pleasure to see you again.” An entrancing smile enlivened his well-favoured features.

“I am glad to see you as well, Mr. Darcy.” Before I could say more, Aunt Gardiner urged everyone to take seats. Mr. Bingley hastened to the settee beside Jane; but rather than take the unoccupied seat nearest to me, Mr. Darcy sat between my aunt and uncle Gardiner.

In contrast to my would-be suitor, Mr. Bingley displayed his usual attentiveness with Jane. I fought the inclination to pout. Was Mr. Darcy not eager to speak with me?

But his conversation with my aunt and uncle—an astute discussion of the latest political dispute reported in the day’s newspaper—made a fascinating display. He engaged them with an ease one exhibited with friends. I perked to an erect posture, following their every word. After having witnessed my family in Hertfordshire at their worst, Mr. Darcy now benefited from my most refined and intelligent relations.

At the first lull in their conversation, Mr. Bingley addressed the group to suggest a walk to the nearby park. My aunt and uncle decided to remain; thus, the four of us departed, trailed by Noah, one of Uncle’s trusty footmen.

Mr. Darcy and I took the lead, and we soon outpaced Jane and Mr. Bingley. When I conveyed my gratitude for his confession to his friend, Mr. Darcy’s expression clouded.

“You need not thank me for correcting the wrong I had done to him and your sister. I am gratified by their current felicity. Yet…if not for my interference, they would have become engaged sooner.”

I fell silent, lost in my musing over the changes in Mr. Darcy. In contrast to his conduct today, he had shown my family and friends in Hertfordshire the bare minimum of civility. Would his cordiality prove to be temporary?

“Your hair is most becoming today.” Mr. Darcy perused my tresses. “I have not seen you with this precise arrangement before. The curls frame your beautiful countenance so well.”

What rubbish! Warmth suffused my face. His candid opinion of my appearance had been revealed at the Meryton assembly last October. With a glance about us, I ensured no one came near enough to overhear. “You ought to know I despise false flattery. I should never have expected this from you.”

His mouth fell open. “I meant every word, and I am not in the habit of dissembling.” He raised his hat to run his fingers through his hair. “Why would you doubt me?”

My lips formed a hard line. “You once stated I was not handsome enough to tempt you. It is apparent you have learnt to overlook my physical faults in favour of other qualities you admire.”

Lines converged on his forehead. “I am heartily sorry. It is mortifying to acknowledge I ever uttered anything so coarse and untrue. Even worse, I had suspected you may have overheard my remarks. Later, when we spent time together at Netherfield Park, I assumed the attention I paid to you would smooth over any possible indignation on your part. I am conscious of the conceit in that outlook. I ought to have apologised then. Do you suppose you can forgive me?”

I took in his contrite comportment, and my residual resentment from his long-ago insult evaporated. “I accept your apology.”

“It is no wonder you did not think well of me.”

“No, I did not. In almost every conversation we had in Hertfordshire, I attempted to either annoy you or make you look foolish.”

He released a short, mirthless laugh. “You vexed me, but not in the way you had intended. And on too many occasions, I made a jester of myself without your help.”

“It speaks well for a man if he can laugh at his own foibles.”

“I appreciate the opportunity to prove I am not usually such a clod. And I am mortified anew for my insulting speech the evening I proposed to you. I once considered your relations in trade to be a considerable drawback, but after having met Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, I should be pleased to have them as relations.”

His reference to our possible marriage inspired a glow in my complexion, and his frankness encouraged me to respond in kind. “Your disparagement of my family that day angered me, and I came close to unleashing my wrath at you. It is fortunate I constrained myself. Otherwise, we should not be talking now.”

“Yes, most fortuitous.” With his smile restored, he made an alluring picture, and my breath caught.

Why had he never been this agreeable in Hertfordshire? And if he had been, might I have fallen in love with him last year? Good heavens, I am staring. I redirected my eyes forwards and sought a new subject. “What are your favourite books?”

We engaged in a spirited discussion of literature and found we had read many of the same novels and poetry collections; he had even enjoyed one of my most treasured books, The Mysteries of Udolpho . Although we found many areas of disagreement, he put forth his opinions whilst giving credence to my arguments. No other gentleman of my acquaintance—other than Papa—had ever challenged me in such a thoughtful and respectful way.

It struck me that I should not be content to wed a man who ascribed to the prevailing view that males, by virtue of their sex, had superior acumen to females. And many men believed the works of certain authors, such as Lord Byron or Shakespeare, to be inappropriate for ladies. Papa, however, had not censored my reading material.

My vision lingered upon Mr. Darcy. “Do you control the books Miss Darcy reads?”

“Yes, I do. Since my parents are deceased and Georgiana is twelve years my junior, I am a father figure for her. I restrict her to books I have read.”

I maintained a nonchalant air. “Would you also limit what your wife is allowed to read?”

“No, I shall not hinder the improvement of your mind by extensive reading.”

Fire rose up from my neck. His presumptive answer recalled our discussion of ladies’ accomplishments at Netherfield last autumn.

“If you are still amenable to the notion, I should like to introduce my sister to you. Shall I bring her the next time I call?” His lower jaw clinched.

The obvious importance he placed upon my answer impelled me to rush my response. “I should be delighted to meet her.”

A release of tension in Mr. Darcy’s attitude coincided with his grin. “Thank you. I have long believed you would be an ideal…friend for her.”

He could not have conveyed a greater compliment. An increased liveliness marked my steps.

At dinner, Aunt Gardiner revealed to Mr. Darcy that her childhood had been spent in Lambton, a town five miles from Pemberley where her father had been an attorney. The two of them reminisced about the people and places in the area, and my aunt shared her remembrances of past encounters with the late Lady Anne Darcy.

During the dessert course, Mr. Darcy proposed several possible destinations for a group excursion on Tuesday. After a short discussion, we decided upon Vauxhall Gardens.

When I climbed into bed that evening, I reflected upon the time spent with Mr. Darcy—every minute with him had been delightful. Now that I had abandoned my former prejudice against him and his manners had improved, I found much to admire in him. In fact, Tuesday would not come soon enough to suit me.

Monday, 27 April

Gracechurch Street

Elizabeth

Mr. Darcy called this afternoon with his sister. Miss Darcy proved to be a tall, pretty, blonde young lady with pale-blue eyes. While she bore a similar facial structure to her brother, she lacked his confident presence: throughout the introductions, she slouched and clutched tightly to his arm, and her soft voice often descended towards a whisper.

Last autumn, Mr. Wickham had described Miss Darcy as ‘very, very proud’, and I had believed his characterisation. At the time, after having witnessed Miss Bingley lauding the young lady, I had been eager to think the worst of her. How petty I had been! I straightened my shoulders; rather than allow this shameful remembrance to impair my spirits, I should use this opportunity to atone for my prior uncharitable thoughts.

I presented my best smile to Miss Darcy. “Please sit with me here.” I indicated a spot on the sofa.

“Thank you.” She took my suggestion yet adopted a rigid position. Jane chose a nearby chair, and Mr. Darcy sat near my aunt and uncle. When the tea service arrived, Aunt Gardiner poured, and Jane helped her to serve.

I summoned up a soft tone for Miss Darcy. “How did you occupy yourself whilst Mr. Darcy stayed in Kent?”

“I had my companion…um…Mrs. Annesley, with me. She kept me busy with lessons in music, literature, and…um…Italian. Yesterday, she left to visit her sister, who is expected to enter confinement soon.”

“Speaking of music, I have heard your skill at the pianoforte praised by several people now. Which composers do you most favour?”

Miss Darcy’s eyes brightened. “I admire so many. Of late, though, I have most often played Herr Beethoven’s work.”

Ah, this subject held promise. We discussed our most beloved musical compositions and styles. Miss Darcy’s speech grew more conversational until we formed a tentative rapport. I sneaked glances at Mr. Darcy, who carried on a discussion with my uncle. At one point, he caught me looking and smiled, disrupting my train of thought; I repeated myself before regaining my composure.

When the Darcys prepared to depart, my aunt engaged Miss Darcy in the vestibule, allowing me a moment of relative privacy with Mr. Darcy. I offered my hand, and his palm enveloped mine.

“I appreciate your gracious attention to my sister today.”

“The pleasure is mine. I like her very much.”

“Good day, Miss Elizabeth.” He lifted my hand and bestowed a kiss.

A spark moved up my arm. I savoured his masculine redolence—which on this occasion included tangs of mint and lemon—and swallowed against a sudden denseness in my throat. “Good day, Mr. Darcy.”

When the door closed behind them, Aunt Gardiner bade me to enter the sitting room and sit beside her.

My aunt reclined against the cushions. “I find it significant that Mr. Darcy brought his sister to our home. In my mind, this action signifies his intent to have a lasting connexion with us.” She clasped her hands. “It is apparent you have abandoned your former antipathy for him.”

“Yes, I know him better now.”

“Furthermore, I believe you have withheld information. Is there an understanding between you and Mr. Darcy?”

I fidgeted under her undisguised scrutiny. “No. We are not engaged, but I have every reason to believe his intentions towards me are honourable.”

With an open-mouthed smile, she bent forwards to squeeze my hand. “Well, that is splendid! I could not be more pleased for you. He is a man of great consequence and would be an extraordinary match.” She released my hand, searching my countenance. “Although, this would mean nothing if you did not care for him. How do you feel towards him now?”

“I like him, respect him, and enjoy his company. He is confident we should make a good match, but I need more time to be certain.”

“For whatever it may be worth, I believe your dispositions complement each other well. He has a tendency to be reserved. But once past that initial awkwardness one may experience with a new acquaintance, he is articulate and personable.”

“He might be ideal for me. But I cannot forget his churlishness in Hertfordshire. What if I married him based upon his improved behaviour, and the proud, arrogant side of him returned? Even worse, what if he came to regret binding himself to a lady without wealth and connexions?”

Aunt Gardiner’s forehead crimped. “No doubt if you married Mr. Darcy, you would see glimpses of the person he had been in Hertfordshire. Be mindful, though, that he is a powerful man with many people under his care. To maintain the respect of his servants and tenants, he may need to appear severe at times. Your uncle is a fierce man of business when the need arises at his warehouse.”

“That is a valid point.”

“I fancy Mr. Darcy has learnt to be restrained in public because, as an eligible, wealthy, and handsome gentleman, he does not want to attract any more attention than he does already. Imagine how the unmarried ladies of London would flock to Mr. Darcy if he had the urbane, open nature of Mr. Bingley.”

“Upon my word, yes! When Jane and I stayed at Netherfield, Miss Bingley made every effort to gain Mr. Darcy’s notice. She brought to mind a persistent, buzzing gnat.”

My aunt’s lips curled, falling just short of a smirk. “I met Miss Bingley when she and her sister called on Jane, and your description has prompted me to picture her in a most humorous light.” She and I shared a giggle. “I do not imagine Mr. Darcy appreciated her efforts.”

“He responded to her overt attention with coldness.”

“Do you fault him for that?”

“No, even a saint would have found her annoying.”

She took a slow breath. “Your fear that Mr. Darcy might regret marrying you is understandable, but I hope the anxiety will dissipate as time goes on. He does not strike me as the sort who makes impulsive decisions.”

“You may be right.” Indeed, Mr. Darcy seemed to have given much thought to the matter of our marriage before he proposed.

“Although you and Jane are due to return home in a few days, you may prefer to remain with us for a while longer. It might be more…convenient for you to see Mr. Darcy here rather than in Hertfordshire.”

My eyes widened. Of course— Mama! How would she receive Mr. Darcy if he called at Longbourn as my suitor? Without question, she would be insufferable and fawn over him as she had done with Mr. Bingley.

“If you agree, we should be pleased to have you here for as long as you wish. You could travel back and forth with us when we stay in Hertfordshire for the wedding.”

“I appreciate your offer. I should prefer to remain here and shield Mr. Darcy from my mother’s effusions for as long as possible.”

“Splendid. And I insist upon ordering new gowns for you.”

“Oh no, you are doing so much for me already.”

She raised her palm. “Allow me to do this. It would give me the greatest pleasure.”

My aunt was too generous. Of course, it would be gratifying to have new, more fashionable garments whilst I sojourned in London. In truth, I wanted Mr. Darcy to see me at my best. “Thank you, Aunt. That is most kind of you.”

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