Chapter 13 #2
The gentle rebuke produced a look of approval from Mr. Grey and poorly concealed amusement from Sir William. Caroline herself appeared momentarily disconcerted before recovering her usual poise.
“Quite so.” A tight smile. “Though of course Pemberley’s grandeur allows for entertainments on a scale Hertfordshire could scarcely imagine. I have always thought these rooms particularly suited to large gatherings of the first circle when properly utilized.”
The implication that Elizabeth might not be utilizing Pemberley “properly” was both clear and deliberately insulting. Darcy felt a flash of protective anger rising, but before he could intervene, Charles addressed his sister with unusual firmness.
“I believe Mrs. Darcy’s approach to hospitality demonstrates excellent judgment, Caroline.
” His normally affable expression hardened.
“Quality of company and conversation matters far more than quantity of guests or elaborate display, as Jane and I have discovered in our own entertainments at Netherfield.”
This rebuke from her usually accommodating brother startled Caroline, whose color rose noticeably as she reached for her wine glass. “Of course, Charles. I meant no criticism.”
The awkward moment passed as Elizabeth smoothly turned the conversation to Sir William’s recent improvements to his library, drawing him into enthusiastic description of the architectural changes.
Darcy felt a surge of admiration for her deft management of what might have become an uncomfortable situation, particularly as he observed the subtle glance of gratitude she directed toward Bingley for his intervention.
The remainder of the dinner progressed without further incident, each course presented with perfect timing and impeccable service that reflected Mrs. Reynolds’s expertise and Elizabeth’s planning.
As the final dishes were cleared and Elizabeth rose to lead the ladies to the drawing room, Darcy caught her eye briefly across the table, attempting to convey his approval and admiration.
The small smile she returned suggested his message had been received and appreciated.
Once the ladies had withdrawn, the gentlemen settled into the traditional period of port and conversation. Bingley immediately moved to take the vacant seat beside Darcy, his expression suggesting he had matters to discuss.
“Your wife has created a most successful evening. Pemberley is transformed since my last visit.”
“Elizabeth has a gift for creating comfort without sacrificing elegance.” Darcy was pleased by his friend’s recognition of his wife’s accomplishments.
“She does.” Bingley hesitated. “I must apologize for Caroline’s behavior at dinner. Her remarks to Mrs. Darcy were inappropriate.”
Darcy waved away the apology, though he appreciated the sentiment. “Your intervention was sufficient correction, and Elizabeth is more than capable of managing such minor unpleasantness.”
“Still, it grieves me to see Caroline persist in such behavior when she must recognize its futility.” Bingley lowered his voice. “Your marriage has proven successful. One would hope she might accept the inevitable with better grace.”
This frank acknowledgment from his closest friend touched Darcy. “Caroline’s disappointment is understandable from her perspective. She had certain expectations regarding my future that were suddenly rendered impossible.”
“Expectations you never encouraged.” Bingley’s unusual shrewdness showed. “Just as you never encouraged similar expectations in any of the young ladies paraded before you in London drawing rooms over the years.”
“If it were not for your hospitality at Netherfield, I might be compelled to endure such behavior still. Some forms of happiness must be thrust upon us against our initial inclination.”
“Well.” Mr. Bingley’s delight at having influenced the marriage of Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth emanated from every part of his countenance. “A happy accident I could not wish on a better man. Of course,” he added hastily, “that is, I mean the ending, not the beginning.”
“Of course.” Mr. Darcy tried not to laugh.
Mr. Bingley continued. “I cannot pretend I ever required much persuasion to recognize her as the perfect partner. Your reservations regarding our match seem rather amusing in retrospect, given how thoroughly your own marriage has contradicted your previous emphasis on connection and fortune.”
The gentle teasing, coming from the normally deferential Bingley, demonstrated how their relationship had evolved since both had married. “I acknowledge the irony and consider myself fortunate that Elizabeth has been generous enough to forgive my earlier preconceptions.”
“As Jane has forgiven mine.” Bingley paused. “Though in that case, the prejudice was implanted rather than native.”
This oblique reference to Darcy’s interference in Bingley’s courtship of Jane might once have created tension between them. Now, with both happily married to the Bennet sisters and the misunderstanding resolved, it served as acknowledgment of how far they had come.
Their conversation turned to other matters—Bingley’s progress in learning estate management at Netherfield, plans for improvements to both properties, the possibility of a joint hunting party in autumn—until Sir William Holbrook suggested they should not keep the ladies waiting any longer.
The gentlemen rose, ready to rejoin the gathering in the drawing room for music and further conversation before the evening concluded.
As they walked through Pemberley’s grand corridors, Darcy found his thoughts returning repeatedly to the rose garden and what would follow once their guests had departed.
The dinner party, while important as Elizabeth’s first major entertainment as mistress of Pemberley, represented for him a prelude to the true significance of the evening.
The sound of the pianoforte and feminine conversation promised the continuation of what had thus far proven a most successful evening.
Whatever challenges the remaining hours might present, they were temporary obstacles to the moment he most anticipated: Elizabeth, the rose garden, and the transformation of reluctant vows into freely chosen devotion.
“Truly, Mrs. Darcy, you must share your gardener’s secrets.” Lady Ashton’s insistence carried across the terrace as the small group strolled in the pleasant evening air. “My roses never achieve such perfection despite considerable expense and attention.”
“I can claim little credit beyond appreciating what generations of Darcys have established.” Elizabeth’s modesty was genuine as she led their guests toward the west lawn, where chairs had been arranged to enjoy the sunset.
“Though I understand from Mr. Hawkins that the soil here is favorable for certain varieties.”
Darcy, walking several paces behind with Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had arrived during dinner, observed his wife’s easy management of their guests with increasing admiration.
The evening had proceeded without significant incident despite Caroline Bingley’s occasional sharp remarks, and now, as the gathering moved outdoors to enjoy the mild summer evening, the general atmosphere was one of relaxed conviviality.
“Your wife has managed the evening admirably,” Colonel Fitzwilliam observed quietly. “Particularly considering the potential complications presented by Miss Bingley’s presence.”
“Elizabeth has a gift for creating harmony without sacrificing sincerity.” Darcy couldn’t keep pride from warming his tone. “A rare combination.”
His cousin studied him with the comfortable directness of long acquaintance. “You look unusually anticipatory this evening, Darcy. Not just pleased with the dinner’s success but expectant of something more.”
The perception didn’t surprise Darcy; Fitzwilliam had always been attuned to nuances of mood and manner. “Perhaps I am.”
The Colonel’s eyes sparkled with interest. “How intriguing. I shall endeavor not to delay whatever appointment has you checking the clock with such frequency.”
Darcy hadn’t realized his impatience had been so visible, but now that Fitzwilliam mentioned it, he became aware of how often his gaze had drifted to the ornate clock in the drawing room as the evening progressed.
The guests were scheduled to depart by ten o’clock according to the invitations, and it was now approaching nine-thirty.
“It is nothing that cannot wait.” Though in truth every fiber of his being oriented toward that approaching conversation.
Georgiana approached with Jane Bingley, both women looking pleased. “Brother, Miss Bennet has kindly agreed to play a duet with me.” Georgiana’s unusual animation showed how far her recovery had progressed. “Would you escort us back inside?”
“With pleasure.” Darcy offered his arm to his sister while Colonel Fitzwilliam did the same for Jane.
As they turned toward the house, Darcy glanced back to locate Elizabeth and found her engaged in conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Grey near the stone balustrade separating the terrace from the west lawn.
She listened intently to something Mr. Grey was saying, her expression animated in the golden light of the setting sun.
This was what he had always hoped might exist at Pemberley: not correctness and dignity alone, but genuine warmth and connection.
The musical entertainment in the drawing room provided a pleasant conclusion to the evening, with Georgiana and Jane performing admirably together despite limited opportunity to practice.
Several other guests contributed songs or instrumental pieces, creating an atmosphere of informal enjoyment rather than formal display.
Even Caroline Bingley, when persuaded to exhibit her considerable skill at the pianoforte, relaxed as she received genuine appreciation for her performance.