Chapter Twenty-Six
Netherfield Park
When Mr. Darcy went downstairs to break his fast, he found two messages waiting for him beside his plate.
One was from his cousin, Anne de Bourgh; the other from his aunt, the Countess.
It was unusual for Anne to write to him, so he opened that first. Its contents had him chuckle.
Silver lining indeed! Not that he would ever have married Anne de Bourgh, but Lady Catherine’s insistence on this fantastical cradle betrothal had always been an annoyance.
Then he opened the message from the Countess. The chuckle died at once, and he swore under his breath, causing Georgiana, Mr. Bingley, and the Hursts to look at him in some concern. Miss Bingley had not yet come down.
“Brother?” Georgiana asked.
“Richard is on his way here,” Mr. Darcy said, grimly.
“Oh.” Georgiana looked down at her plate.
“You seem upset about it, Darcy. I would have thought you would be happy to see him,” Mr. Bingley remarked.
“He is concerned about the gossip surrounding Georgiana. He is her guardian, you know, along with myself.”
“So he has the right to be concerned. But once he knows there is no truth to it, all will be well!” Mr. Bingley’s voice was cheerful.
Mr. Darcy put his head in his hands and groaned. Georgiana pushed her plate away.
“Darcy?” Mr. Bingley sounded worried.
Mr. Darcy ignored his friend, turning instead to Netherfield’s hostess. “Mrs. Hurst, would you object to putting my cousin up for a day or two?”
“We would be honoured,” Mrs. Hurst replied. “I will have a room prepared for him at once.”
Miss Bingley entered the room, yawning hugely. “Who is coming?” she asked.
“My cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam,” Mr. Darcy answered shortly.
Miss Bingley stopped yawning and now looked interested. “Oh! The son of the Earl and Countess of Matlock!”
Mr. Darcy thought it best to enlighten Miss Bingley at once.
“Yes; he is the second son, Miss Bingley, with no estate and no expectations of one. He has been in the Army for many years now, and has earned his rank by merit, not money. I suspect he will remain in the Army until he retires.” The Colonel actually had an inheritance from an aunt on his mother’s side, and could leave the Army whenever he wished, but Darcy thought it best not to mention that.
“Oh.” Miss Bingley had, as expected, lost interest. She sat down and looked around the table. “I see there is no hot chocolate.” She looked at her sister expectantly.
“No, there is not. As we never know when you will gift us with your presence, I have told Cook not to bother with it. Tea and coffee are available to you.” Mrs. Hurst spoke with some asperity.
Miss Bingley stared hard at her sister, who stared back. Miss Bingley finally dropped her eyes and then shifted her attention. “Charles, I must speak with you about your behaviour at Longbourn.”
“My behaviour? Whatever can you mean?”
“You paid far too much attention to Miss Bennet; you are giving rise to expectations.”
“Good; that is exactly what I hope to do,” Mr. Bingley replied, cutting into his ham with considerable force.
“What? You cannot possibly mean that!”
“Why can I not? She is beautiful, kind, well-mannered, gentle – everything I admire in a woman.”
“But the Bennets are of no importance whatever!”
“They are the first family in the neighbourhood, Caroline.”
“In an insignificant country neighbourhood, yes! But have they a house in Town? No. Have they connections of any sort? No. Have they –“
Her brother interrupted her. “I have no interest in any of that, Caroline.”
“Do you realise that such a union will do nothing whatever to enhance my own chances at a good marriage, Charles?!”
“Caroline.” Mr. Bingley’s voice was now severe, as he laid down his knife and fork. “Do you realise that I do not care in the slightest?”
Miss Bingley gasped. “You do not care about my marriage opportunities?”
“Enough to risk my own happiness? No.” Mr. Bingley glanced at the Hursts; his meaning was clear enough.
Lousia Bingley had married Harold Hurst because of his position in society; his father owned a large estate in Suffolk.
He had married her for her dowry. That the Hurst union was not a particularly happy one was no secret.
Mr. Bingley continued, “My main purpose in matrimony is to secure the happiness of myself and my wife, and nothing more.”
Mr. Darcy, hesitant to interrupt a family squabble but thinking to support his friend, broke in. “I applaud you, Bingley.”
Miss Bingley threw a poisonous look at Mr. Darcy. “Easy enough for you to say now, Mr. Darcy.” Her tone was equally poisonous.
“Meaning?” Mr. Darcy enquired.
“My meaning is clear enough, I think. Now that you and your sister have lost your opportunities to make important marriages, you claim that happiness in marriage is paramount. Would you have said so three months ago, I wonder?”
Everyone at the table gasped in horror. Georgiana burst into tears, threw her napkin onto the table and ran out of the room.
Mr. Darcy stared at Miss Bingley; she turned red, clearly regretting her outburst. “No, Miss Bingley,” he said, at last. “I would not have said so three months ago.” Then he murmured, as if to himself. “Another silver lining.” He rose from his chair and followed his sister from the room.
“Caroline, I cannot believe what just happened at my breakfast table,” Mr. Bingley declared. “I think you not fit for company, and would prefer that you remain in your room until we decide what is to be done with you.”
Miss Bingley immediately replied. “You cannot do that, Charles.”
“I am the master of Netherfield,” her brother declared, with unusual forcefulness. “I can absolutely do that. Go upstairs, Caroline, and contemplate your behaviour. I will have trays sent up to you.”
Miss Bingley stood up in a fury; her chair fell over behind her, but no one moved. “You – you – “ She could think of nothing to say that would adequately convey her fury, so she finally screamed and then ran out of the room.
A footman stepped forward and righted Caroline’s chair. No one spoke. Finally, Mr. Hurst said, “”Well done, Bingley. Is there more coffee?”
***
Mr. Darcy knocked on Georgiana’s door. “Georgiana, I must speak with you.”
The door opened. Georgiana’s eyes were red, her cheeks tear-streaked. “Is it true that you cannot make a good marriage because of me?”
“No, of course not.” He hoped that she would believe him.
“But I know that your reputation will suffer because of that newspaper! Will it not?”
“Georgiana, it does not matter.”
“Of course it does! We are expected to make good marriages! I knew that I had lost my chance, but now everyone knows that you lost your chance as well!”
“Georgiana, might we have this conversation inside your room, rather than in the hallway?”
She stepped back and allowed him to come inside.
“Mr. Bingley was so upset by what Miss Bingley said that he has sent her to her room to contemplate her behaviour.
“Really?” Georgiana’s eyes opened wide.
“Yes; it was completely beyond the pale, and everyone at the table knew it.”
“But it does not necessarily follow that it was untrue,” Georgiana replied, casting her eyes down.
“We both know that there are and will continue to be repercussions from that article,” Mr. Darcy said.
“We are in turbulent waters, and we will navigate them as best we can together. But not everything that has resulted from the article is bad.” He pulled Anne’s letter from his coat pocket and read it aloud, happy to see his sister’s smile as he did so.
“Silver lining indeed!” Georgiana said. “But if you are not to marry Anne, then who will you marry?”
“Like Bingley, I will marry someone who makes me happy.” As he spoke, Mr. Darcy felt an unaccustomed spurt of joy. He realised, at that moment, that he had never before expected to do so. He was free now, in a way that he had never been before. He could marry someone he loved! He could be happy!
“Brother,” Georgiana said, softly. “Richard will be very angry with me, will he not?”
“No, he will be very angry with me,” Mr. Darcy replied.