Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Bingley, bouncing on his feet on Darcy’s thick Axminister carpet and beaming with the joyful energy of a happily engaged man, looked at him in surprise.
“Have you not heard from my sisters? Caroline and Louisa were disappointed you did not return, and by the last day of November, their trunks were packed and ready to be put on the carriage for London.”
“They have been here, in town, for more than a se’nnight?” Darcy was amazed Miss Bingley had not forced Hurst to bring her to Darcy House to importune him to extract her brother from ‘the clutches of commonfolk’, specifically Jane Bennet.
Bingley, who had arrived in the last hour from Netherfield to ready his affairs and prepare the settlement for his soon-to-be wife, grinned even more widely, prompting Darcy to wonder whether he would burst into the sort of radiance Elizabeth carried with her.
“They were eager to be gone, and truth be told, Hurst and I were happy to live as bachelors for a few days.” Bingley fell into a chair, apparently exhausted from joy.
“Hurst had grown rather fond of the card parties at the Lucases and the table set at Longbourn, and there was a particular duck he was determined to shoot.”
“Ah, a good friend and ally.”
“A good brother,” averred Bingley, “though he never got the duck and slept the entire journey from Meryton.”
Darcy chuckled. “Such agony you must have felt, confined in a carriage with no conversation.”
“Jane is worth it.”
The steel in Bingley’s voice gave way to wistfulness, stirring a sort of pang in Darcy’s chest. He busied himself pouring drinks and handed one to Bingley before asking, “Will you stay in town until the wedding?”
“No, I shall return to Meryton next week with Jane and Elizabeth.”
Darcy froze, his glass at his lips. “They are here, in town?”
“Yes, as I wrote to you. They have come to shop for Jane’s wedding clothes. They arrived yesterday.”
“I could discern little of the scribbling in that letter. Were your fingers and cuffs ink-stained when writing it?” His heart was hammering in his chest, but striving to sound indifferent, Darcy added, “Where are they staying?”
“Cheapside, with their aunt and uncle.”
Ah yes, Cheapside. After his brief conversation with Mrs Philips, who showed unseemly interest in the carpets and draperies at Darcy House, and Mrs Bennet’s boasts declaring Bingley a fine prospect for Jane Bennet because he could buy her carriages and frippery to her heart’s delight, what kind of inelegant relations could Elizabeth have in town?
“Caroline made a big fat stink about the Bennets’ relations in trade, but it is little different from our own roots, and Mr and Mrs Gardiner are lovely people.”
“You think everyone is lovely.”
“Not true, my friend—my sisters can be quite awful.” Bingley jumped up and slapped him on the back. “Come with me! I have not seen Jane since yesterday morning!”
Darcy did not wish to go, but of course, he was eager—nay, desperate— to see Elizabeth, to truly look at her away from Meryton.
Shades drawn on his carriage, he rode silently with a still effusive Bingley across town to Cheapside.
While Bingley chattered on about his angel, Darcy was restless, his hand drawn to the quizzing glass that dangled round his neck.
He had been at his desk, reviewing a letter and map from Tompkins about a troublesome dam, when Bingley was announced.
In his haste to join him on his visit to the house on Gracechurch Street, he had overlooked its presence—admittedly somewhat deliberately.
This call, truly, was his opportunity to see not only whether Elizabeth was as luminous in town as in her home county, but to learn whether her relations were decent.
Loath as he was to use the glass on a person he so admired, curiosity plagued him.
Call it what it is, doubt and uncertainty. You do not understand why she is singular and why you are drawn to her.
The moment he stepped into the parlour at the surprisingly well-appointed townhouse and saw her, that bewildering lightness, that warm sense that all was right in the world, swept over him.
“Miss Elizabeth.”
“Mr Darcy.”
The taciturn man was living up to his nature, saying very little in the five minutes since he and Mr Bingley had entered the Gardiners’ home, and much as she would have liked to ignore him—or pummel him with questions about his disappearance from Netherfield—Elizabeth reminded herself she was the daughter of a gentleman and a guest in her aunt’s home, and polite conversation was expected.
Mr Darcy, standing awkwardly by a small table holding the book she had been reading only moments ago, turned and gazed at her for only the second time since he had arrived, and there it was—that intense, bewildering look so familiar from every encounter they had had in Hertfordshire.
Although who is more bewildered—he or I—is the true mystery.
“Your family is all in good health?”
As he sat in the chair beside her, Elizabeth was blinded briefly by the bright sunlight reflecting off his waistcoat; a moment later, the harsh glare gone, she searched for its cause.
Expecting his shiny brass buttons as the culprit, she was intrigued to see he wore his quizzing glass round his neck.
Already startled by his proximity, she was even more disconcerted by the presence of the infamous thing, dangling on a black ribbon, only inches away.
“Yes, my family is well,” she affirmed. “All is well with you, sir? Your departure from Netherfield was so sudden, we feared you had received bad news.”
“Pressing business,” he replied. Like her, he was probably relieved by the arrival of the tea tray and the distractions of her aunt pouring cups. Of course Mr Bingley’s happy chatter filled the silence as Elizabeth continued watching Mr Darcy.
When his gaze moved away, she examined the quizzing glass; truly, it was a beautiful piece, with a ruby and a few small black stones set in the engraved gold handle, of a kind some dandies carried more for affectation than utility. It is just as Mr Wickham described.
Looking up, she saw Mr Darcy’s attention was directed towards a painting her uncle had taken in payment from a wealthy—if cash-poor—dowager, a lady who preferred fine silks for her gowns over pretty landscapes for her walls.
Mr Darcy regarded it, seemingly appreciative of the work, her own favourite among the many admirable pieces in the home.
“The artist’s signature is difficult to see without a magnifier, such as my uncle keeps in his study,” she offered. “Mr Wilson was not one desirous of acclaim and attention.”
Nodding, he turned back to her. “Which is why many of his works hang, underappreciated, in halls and corridors, nearly unnoticed. He deserves far more recognition.”
Impressed by his knowledge, her curiosity grew as she glanced again at the quizzing glass. Would he not use it to examine the painting? “I see that you are well-prepared with your quizzing glass if you care to look more closely.”
His cheeks paled and he looked at her as though she had grown two horns. “More closely?”
They were staring at each other in confusion when Mr Bingley’s cheerful voice broke in with an unanticipated announcement.
“I say, Darcy has been kind enough to offer the use of his box at His Majesty’s Theatre.
Would all of you, and Mr Gardiner, of course, wish to go this week?
” Despite his invitation to all the ladies, Mr Bingley’s smile was directed only at Jane, seated beside him on the settee.
“Um, I believe the performance is...um, what is it again, Darcy?”
“Cosi Fan Tutte,” Mr Darcy said quietly.
Elizabeth’s near gasp of delight was echoed by her aunt Gardiner, who replied, “Much as I know I should consult with my husband, I cannot set aside my own pleasure at the prospect of hearing Mozart performed. I cannot imagine any reason we and our nieces could not join you.”
“Thank you for the invitation, Mr Darcy,” said Jane, smiling.
Although her sister did not appreciate music as much as Elizabeth and her aunt and uncle, Elizabeth was pleased by her enthusiasm. Certainly, she could not hide her own eagerness.
“Yes,” she said, beaming. “The opportunity...I am all anticipation. Thank you so much, sir.”
She felt something shift in Mr Darcy’s gaze.
He had been white-faced since her mention of his quizzing glass, but there was colour in his cheeks when returning her smile.
“I look forward to hearing your thoughts, and perhaps sharing them with my sister. Georgiana is quite eager to see the performance, but I believe she may be too young.”
Touched by his care for his sister, Elizabeth replied, “Perhaps we may help you judge that with this performance, and if you can bear it a second time, attend again with her?”
Mr Bingley chuckled. “Darcy attending a performance once is quite the feat, but if anyone can convince him of a second trip, it is his sister.”
A proud, albeit small, smile softened Mr Darcy’s expression, and appeared to ease any fraught feeling from her earlier words.
However, Elizabeth’s relief was short-lived, for Mr Bingley soon added a dreadful endnote to the conversation.
“My own sisters are keen to join us. Caroline, as you know, is a great aficionado of music.”
Miss Bingley is an aficionado of anything to do with Mr Darcy.
When Mr Bingley finished sharing his fervour for the excursion, he convinced Jane to walk to the park where the Gardiner children had gone with their nurse.
Elizabeth was happy to abet his scheme to parade with Jane on his arm, and drew on her coat, joining Mr Darcy a few paces behind her sister and Mr Bingley.
He, of course, was silent, so she decided to satisfy her curiosity.
“Should I take from your presence here that you are happy for your friend and my sister?”
He looked at her oddly; she felt foolish. Would he have offered his box if he were displeased with the engagement?
“I apologise, of course you must be pleased for Mr Bingley. It was generous of you to invite us to the theatre.”
This time, Mr Darcy nodded. “I have rarely seen Bingley unhappy, but never have I seen him more content than he is with your sister. It was rather quick, but he has always been a man who is swift to a decision when he feels it is right.”
“And yet he relies on you to guide and correct him. Does he often require such correction?”
“He has no father, uncle, or elder brother to advise him, so I admit to doing what I can to assist him. Sadly, I cannot fix his poor penmanship or amend his lack of interest in drainage or poetry.”
Realising he was smiling, she returned it, despite some lingering annoyance that he did not say more in favour of the engagement. Before she could press him, they were at the park and surrounded by the three oldest Gardiner children.
Mr Bingley quickly agreed to accompanying the two youngest to the pond where ‘hundreds of ducks and swans’ were said to be swimming.
The trio raced ahead; Jane and the nurse trailed behind.
Elizabeth followed with Elinor, who at ten years of age, was full of questions about Jane’s wedding and the tall man who had accompanied Mr Bingley.
“Is Mr Bingley’s friend married?”
“No, Mr Darcy is a bachelor.”
“Is that like a monk?”
“No, it means he is unmarried.” Elizabeth, laughing, turned around briefly to look at the man himself, walking some distance behind them.
Elinor sighed. “He is very tall as well.”
A moment passed as they watched Mr Bingley swinging little Robert Gardiner in the air, and then the girl spoke again, this time in a pleading voice.
“Mr Darcy, may I look through your little spyglass?”
Elizabeth turned to find Mr Darcy standing next to them.
He gazed down at the girl, clearly uneasy.
Much as she wished to hear his reply to the challenge, Elizabeth’s manners took precedence.
Taking hold of Elinor’s hand, she said, “No, dear girl. I believe it is a quizzing glass, delicate and meant solely for the eye it is designed to assist. Apparently, Mr Darcy has great need of it for his vision.”
Mr Darcy glanced at her, visibly flushed; she met his look with a curious one of her own.