Chapter 5 #3
His eyes held hers for a moment longer, dark and unreadable in the dim light of the corridor.
Then he released her and disappeared into his own room, leaving Elizabeth with the lingering warmth of his touch and the uncomfortable awareness that, against all expectation, she would have welcomed his presence in her bed for a second night.
The following morning brought Mr. Bingley’s visit. Elizabeth received him in the drawing room, finding his unaffected cheerfulness a welcome contrast to her husband’s reserve.
“Mrs. Darcy!” he exclaimed, bowing over her hand with genuine pleasure. “How delightful to see you again!”
“Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth returned warmly. “Thank you for your kind letter. My husband mentioned you only recently returned to London?”
“Yes, I was attending to some business with the estate that I had delayed from the previous year. It took me a few days longer to conclude than I had hoped.” Bingley accepted the seat she offered him.
“Fortunately, Mr. Darcy had offered to assist me in conducting a land survey at Netherfield and was at the house to instruct me on the best practices. He was kind enough to invite me personally to the ceremony. I did not have a chance to congratulate you or speak to your family afterward, I’m afraid, but it was a lovely occasion. ”
Elizabeth studied his open countenance, seeking any indication that he might be thinking of Jane, but his expression revealed only sincere good wishes for her and Darcy.
“It was rather sudden,” she admitted. “Circumstances necessitated a quick ceremony and a small wedding breakfast with only family present.”
“That explains why his notice was so sudden,” Bingley said with a good-natured laugh. “I hope your family is well? Your sisters?”
Here was the opening she had hoped for. “They are, thank you. My eldest sister Jane was particularly sorry you departed Netherfield so abruptly last autumn. She greatly enjoyed your company.”
Bingley’s smile faltered slightly. “Miss Bennet is a most amiable young lady. I was sorry business called me away so suddenly.”
Elizabeth noted a hint of confusion in his expression, as though he were trying to reconcile conflicting information. Before she could pursue the subject further, Darcy entered the room.
“Mr. Bingley,” he said, his tone warmer than Elizabeth usually heard it. “Welcome back to London.”
The men shook hands with evident friendship. “Darcy! Married! I can scarcely believe it, even having witnessed it myself,” Mr. Bingley exclaimed. “And to such a charming lady. You are a fortunate man indeed.”
“I am well aware,” Darcy replied, his gaze briefly meeting Elizabeth’s with an intensity that brought heat to her cheeks.
Their conversation turned to more general topics—Bingley’s survey of his lands, mutual acquaintances, plans for the rest of the social season. Elizabeth observed the easy friendship between the two men with interest, noting how Darcy’s manner relaxed in Bingley’s company.
“Will you return to Netherfield before summer?” she asked Bingley when there was a natural pause in the conversation.
“I had not planned to,” he replied, glancing briefly at Darcy. “My lease continues, but with my sisters preferring to remain in town for the season...”
“My sister spoke of Netherfield’s beautiful grounds,” Elizabeth said. “She thought the spring flowers there would be particularly fine in a month or so.”
Bingley’s expression brightened. “Did she? Miss Bennet has excellent taste. Perhaps I should reconsider. The countryside is particularly pleasant in spring.”
Fitzwilliam frowned slightly but said nothing, and Elizabeth felt a small surge of satisfaction. If her purpose as Mrs. Darcy was to make suitable conversation, surely encouraging her husband’s friend to renew his interest in her worthy sister fell within those bounds.
After Mr. Bingley departed, promising to call again soon, Darcy turned to Elizabeth with a raised eyebrow. “You were quite determined to remind Bingley of Hertfordshire.”
“Merely making conversation,” Elizabeth replied innocently. “The connection seemed natural, given our recent removal from there.”
Darcy studied her face, clearly unconvinced. “Bingley is easily influenced by those he trusts. A dangerous trait in a man of his fortune.”
“How fortunate he has you to guide him, then,” Elizabeth said, unable to keep a hint of irony from her tone.
“Indeed.” Darcy’s expression remained unreadable. “I must attend to some business before tonight’s dinner. The carriage will be ready at six.”
As he left, Elizabeth reflected that despite their physical intimacy, her husband remained in many ways as inscrutable to her as when they first met. The thought troubled her more than she cared to admit.
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s house, while modest compared to the Darcy townhome, spoke of comfortable prosperity and unaffected good taste.
Elizabeth found herself immediately at ease with its owner, a man of medium height with an open countenance and the easy manners of one who moves confidently in society while taking none of its pretensions too seriously.
“Mrs. Darcy,” he said, bowing over her hand with genuine pleasure. “What a delight to finally meet the woman who has captured my stoic cousin. We had begun to despair of him ever marrying.”
“Fitzwilliam,” Darcy said in a warning tone, though Elizabeth detected no real annoyance in it.
“You must forgive my frankness,” the Colonel continued with a grin. “As a younger son destined for the military, I was spared the rigid propriety drilled into Darcy from birth.”
“I find frankness refreshing, Colonel,” Elizabeth replied, warming to him immediately. “Especially in contrast to the careful dissembling that seems to characterize so much of society.”
“Oh, I like her,” Colonel Fitzwilliam declared to Darcy. “She’ll keep you on your toes!”
Darcy’s mouth curved slightly. “A fact of which I am increasingly aware.”
The other dinner guests soon arrived: an older couple introduced as Lord and Lady Ashton, longtime friends of the Darcy family; a distinguished gentleman named Lord Harrington, a member of Parliament with political connections to Darcy’s uncle; and, to Elizabeth’s unease, Miss Bingley, accompanied by her brother.
“Mrs. Darcy,” Caroline Bingley curtseyed with perfect correctness, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “What an unexpected pleasure. We had no idea Mr. Darcy had formed an attachment when last we saw him in Hertfordshire.”
The subtle emphasis on “unexpected” did not escape Elizabeth. “Life is full of surprises, Miss Bingley,” she replied pleasantly. “I myself had not anticipated becoming mistress of Pemberley when we last met.”
Caroline’s smile tightened. “How... fortunate for you.”
“For us both.” Mr. Darcy placed a proprietary hand at the small of Elizabeth’s back.
The gesture, casual but undeniably possessive, silenced Caroline more effectively than any verbal rebuke might have done. Elizabeth felt a rush of gratitude, even as his touch sent an unexpected warmth through her body.
As they moved to the dining room, Elizabeth found herself seated between Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lord Harrington, with Caroline Bingley directly across from her.
The positioning did not seem accidental; she suspected the Colonel had deliberately separated her from Caroline while ensuring she had amiable dinner companions.
“Darcy tells me you are a great reader, Mrs. Darcy,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said as the first course was served.
“I enjoy books greatly,” Elizabeth confirmed. “Though I fear my education has been rather haphazard compared to that of most accomplished young ladies.”
“Then you have been spared the tedium of accomplishments pursued without genuine interest,” the Colonel replied. “I find nothing more tiresome than a young woman who plays the pianoforte solely because society expects it, with neither skill nor pleasure.”
“My feelings exactly,” Elizabeth said, delighted by his understanding. “Though I fear I play with more enthusiasm than skill myself.”
“The best combination,” he assured her. “My aunt Lady Catherine would disagree, of course. She believes accomplishments should be pursued with grim determination, enjoyment being entirely beside the point.”
Elizabeth laughed, drawing the attention of several guests, including her husband. “You paint a formidable picture of Lady Catherine. I confess I am somewhat nervous about eventually meeting her.”
“You need not be,” Darcy said from his position further down the table. “My aunt’s bark is considerably worse than her bite.”
“That depends entirely on whether one is a family member or merely an acquaintance,” Colonel Fitzwilliam countered good-naturedly. “Mrs. Darcy now falls into the former category, so she is entitled to the full force of Lady Catherine’s guidance.”
“I look forward to it,” Elizabeth replied, maintaining a straight face. “I am always eager to improve myself through the advice of those more knowledgeable than I.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam choked slightly on his wine. “Oh, she is perfect for you, Darcy,” he declared when he had recovered. “Someone who can match your solemnity with such delightful irony.”
Across the table, Caroline Bingley observed this exchange with obvious displeasure. “It must be quite an adjustment,” she said sweetly, addressing Elizabeth, “to find yourself suddenly in such elevated circles. The customs of London society differ greatly from those of simpler communities.”
“They do,” Elizabeth agreed pleasantly. “Though human nature seems remarkably consistent regardless of setting. Pride, vanity, and insecurity appear in every circle, merely expressed through different customs.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed at the implied rebuke, but Lady Ashton intervened before she could respond. “Mrs. Darcy, my husband tells me you were raised in Hertfordshire. Is it as picturesque as I’ve heard?”