Chapter 12 Rapprochement
RAPPROCHEMENT
Darcy was reading in the library when Bingley was announced. Bingley looked uncharacteristically sombre as he entered the room and greeted Darcy. The two gentlemen stood in silence for a pregnant moment, then both spoke at once.
“Darcy, I apologise—”
“Bingley, I hope—”
Then, both chuckled uncomfortably, and fell silent again.
Darcy decided to take the lead. “I can only hope your willingness to call on me means you are amenable to at least hearing my apology.”
“No further apology is necessary except mine, for behaving as I did. My failures with Miss Bennet are mine alone, even if it has taken me a while to own to it.” Bingley looked down.
“It was Caroline who made me realise it. In the midst of a violent argument—even worse than the one I had with you—she told me no one made me stay away, that I could have acted like my own man and gone to see things for myself. Much as I hate to admit it, she was correct.”
“I never intended to see you made unhappy. I thought I was preventing it.”
“I know.” Bingley reached out his hand, and the two men shook. “I thank you for your letter. You are a faithful friend, and I hope this will not remain between us.”
“We shall not permit it to.” Darcy invited Bingley to sit, and offered a drink, which Bingley declined with a shamefaced grin.
“I daresay my recent inclination for the bottle has not helped my disposition.”
The pair sat for some time, discussing all the various little nothings that had occupied each of them in recent weeks.
At length Bingley, with some hesitation, said, “I will be away from town for the next several weeks. I plan to open Netherfield again.”
Nodding with a carefully neutral countenance, Darcy tried to suppress the surge of terror and delight within him. “Hertfordshire is sure to be splendid in the summer months.”
“I confess it is neither fresh air, nor fishing streams that induce me.” Bingley looked very serious as he said, “I plan to see Miss Bennet. See how things stand and whether I have any hope of winning her.”
Darcy met his gaze and held it unwaveringly. “I am glad to hear that. I pray you are successful.”
Leaning forwards in his seat, Bingley looked at Darcy earnestly. “Would you consider coming with me?”
Another jolt of excitement brought a light sweat to Darcy’s palms. He set down the coffee cup he had been holding. “I would not think you would wish me there after my prior interference.”
“I have relied too heavily on you before. I will go, and I will see things with my eyes and mine alone. You may speak as you like, but do not despise me should I disregard you. I am new to this business of relying on my own judgment.”
Darcy smiled but turmoil boiled within him.
Here it was, a new chance for not only Bingley but possibly himself as well.
He desperately wished for a second chance, and yet he was wildly fearful of it too.
Bingley’s look, which had grown quizzical, was suddenly too much to endure, and Darcy rose and went to look out of the window.
At length, Bingley enquired, “Have you other plans?”
Darcy paused then muttered, in the direction of the window, “No, no I do not.”
“Oh.” Bingley sounded disappointed behind him. “I cannot blame you if my anger before has made it impossible for you—”
“No, no!” Darcy turned back to the room and Bingley at once. “Not at all.”
“No prior engagement and you are not angry with me,” said Bingley. He considered his friend carefully, and then his face lit. “Ah, I believe I know what it is.”
“You do?”
“I have noticed your popularity in the tattle sheets. Have you met someone?”
Darcy walked slowly across the room to where Bingley sat. He had told Bingley while they argued of his plan to propose to Elizabeth, but he knew not what his friend might remember.
“My sudden interest in parties and balls was a foolish effort to put her behind me, but I know now it cannot be done.”
“Yes, but who is she?”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Oh yes,” said Bingley. “I quite forgot that you told me you nearly proposed. But what happened?”
“The last night we were in company at Rosings, she arrived clearly out of sorts and avoided me as much as she could. Thankfully I did not press her, for I learnt later, from Fitzwilliam, that she had heard of my involvement in separating you from Miss Bennet that very day and was enraged by my interference. No doubt it was to my advantage that I did not propose that evening. I can only imagine the refusal I might have got.”
“But I have forgiven you; surely she can as well.”
Darcy frowned at the carpet. “Her dislike of me is founded on more than that.”
“Such as?”
“She overheard me when I insulted her to you, at that first assembly we attended—you were urging me to dance.”
Bingley nodded. From his looks, it did not seem he remembered the specifics of that event, which was unfortunate indeed. Evidently Darcy’s friends were so accustomed to his incivility that it was not notable when he behaved churlishly.
“Furthermore, even though you saw through my arguments with her, she did not. She saw it as evidence of my general arrogance and disdain for others. Her acquaintance with my old friend Wickham could not have been to my advantage either, for I am sure he was more than pleased to fill her ears with his usual nonsense.”
Bingley heaved a gusty sigh.
“Despite all of that, I must try. Even if I fail, it will be better than giving up, I think. I confess, though…” He gave a little laugh. “I am not certain I even know how to go about it.”
“She is unlikely to fall to the usual gallantries,” Bingley agreed.
“Would that there was a book to study, or a master to hire,” Darcy mused just as the door opened and his cousins showed themselves in.
“A master to hire for what?” Fitzwilliam asked as Saye, seeing an available sofa, laid himself out and groaned about how badly his head ached.
“Nothing,” Darcy replied. “Bingley and I were only speaking on how difficult it is to win a woman.”
“For you perhaps,” Saye replied, his eyes closed. “The rest of us are fending them off with sticks.”
“I could give you some ideas,” Fitzwilliam offered as he sat.
“You?” Saye sat up and rolled his eyes. “Most masters have some authority on the subject.”
“I have ample authority,” Fitzwilliam retorted. “The rest of you, all, are handsome men of fortune. I have nothing but my charms to recommend me, and so far…” He quirked his brows suggestively, “They have not failed me.”
“No one can really imagine himself a prime catch until at least three worthy females have conspired to entrap him,” Saye retorted. “I myself can count ten.”
While his two cousins debated over which ladies had loved them, Darcy sent an expressive glance to Bingley. “At any rate,” he said, “in regards to our subject before—when shall you quit town?”
Bingley named the date he believed would do best, and Darcy nodded. His fate, it seemed, was sealed.