Chapter 20
Arts, Allurements, and Affiances
Darcy arrived with his sister at Grosvenor Street earlier than the invitation specified, but a week of confinement had left him impatient for escape.
His wound was healing well, his strength and appetite returned.
The only remaining complaint was that his voice was no more improved, and Farnham had advised him not to attempt to use it yet, to avoid doing further damage.
It mattered not, for Elizabeth would be able to interpret for him, and she was due to arrive with her aunt, uncle, father, and sister within the next quarter of an hour.
“Darcy, Miss Darcy! You are very welcome!” Bingley greeted them with more than his usual effusiveness at the front door, unceremoniously barging past the footman and opening his arms wide.
To Darcy in particular, he said, “You look much more like yourself, old fruit! Come in, come in! I’ve a new tipple on the go that is really only safe for you, for it is guaranteed to blister the voice box clean off anyone else who tries it. Come in!”
Darcy smiled at Bingley’s effervescent manner, which was unquestionably a consequence of his recent engagement to Elizabeth’s older sister.
Upon learning of Jane’s enduring affections, his friend had left posthaste for Hertfordshire to recommence his pursuit of her hand.
Once there, he seemed to have taken his lead from Darcy’s example and, with the omission of a near-fatal blow to the neck, had constrained his efforts to one week and an impetuous plea for her hand.
To London the pair had returned, ostensibly to share the news with him and Elizabeth, who had refused to return home whilst he was yet too unwell to travel.
Darcy suspected, however, that in truth the trip had been conceived as a means to evade Mrs Bennet’s raptures.
Bingley’s siblings awaited them in the drawing room.
Mr and Mrs Hurst welcomed them cordially; Miss Bingley came forward to grasp both Georgiana’s hands in a show of intimacy by which his sister was evidently bemused.
“Good evening, Miss Darcy, what a joy to see you again after so long. And Mr Darcy! How delighted we all are that you are well enough to join us. It is wonderful to see you looking so well after such a dreadful ordeal.”
Darcy bowed, unable to recall when it had last been necessary for him bite the insides of his cheeks to keep a straight face.
He wished Elizabeth had been less eloquent on the subject of Miss Bingley’s officious attentions.
He wondered whether his engagement would temper the lady’s manner at all but was resigned to being overly aware of it all evening either way.
Miss Bingley’s smile faltered when he did not reply, and she looked uneasily at her brother.
“He cannot speak, Caroline. You know this,” Bingley said to her. “And believe me when I say it is easiest for him not to bother trying to make himself understood by mouthing anything. It is a tortuous process.”
“For a man with the patience of a flea, perhaps,” Darcy retorted mutely.
Miss Bingley gave a prim little laugh. “Mr Darcy’s words may be indecipherable, Charles, but I can understand that look well enough. I forbid you from teasing him any further.”
“Fear not, Caroline,” said Hurst. “Miss Bennet will be here soon, and then your brother will have no time for anybody else, to tease them or otherwise.”
“But then Lizzy will be here, too, and she will tease him enough for all of us.”
Everybody, Darcy included, looked at Georgiana in surprise. Seldom was she brave enough to speak so boldly in company, and even more rarely was she sportive. It truly was astonishing what alterations Elizabeth could bring about in people in the space of but one week.
“Teases him, does she?” Hurst said with a grin. “How the mighty have fallen.” Darcy treated him to a look of a different sort, whereupon he stopped grinning and sat back down with a grunt.
The sound of a carriage pulling up outside saw Bingley capering back to the front door, drawing the mockery they had all been forbidden from directing at Darcy.
Darcy observed good manners and waited where he was for the Bennets and the Gardiners to be shown in, his own boyish flurry of anticipation locked securely behind a carefully neutral expression.
His equanimity was severely tested when Elizabeth came in, resplendent in full evening dress, and sought out his gaze before any other.
He dared permit himself only a small smile.
Any more and he risked making himself ridiculous with an inane grin.
“You look divine,” he mouthed to her when they came together, he taking her hands in his and kissing them.
“Thank you,” she replied. “How are you feeling? It is not too much to be out and about?”
He shook his head—a recently regained ability. “It is a relief to be out of the house.”
Her eyes shone. “Jane and Papa have both expressed similar sentiments.”
As he suspected, then. “You are pleased to see them?”
“Exceedingly so, though it did deprive me of your company all day. I have grown used to our being constantly together.”
Darcy fancied he was far more conscious than Elizabeth of the times they were apart, those generally being the nocturnal hours, when he was most impatient for them to be together. “I missed you, too,” he mouthed, “Though my meeting with your father went well.”
“Yes, so he told me. I believe he appreciated your frankness.”
Darcy rather thought it was the figure he had written down in answer to the question of whether he had sufficient means to support Elizabeth that Bennet had appreciated.
Both men had been silent after that, the alliance settled with a wordless shake of hands.
“Speaking of frankness, I had a letter today. From Lady Catherine.”
“Oh. I suppose it was not overflowing with congratulations.”
The letter had indeed been overflowing, but with language so abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that Darcy had, against the physician’s orders, voiced a string of invective that left his throat raw. “No.”
Elizabeth laid a hand on his arm and squeezed gently—then raised her eyebrows and said impishly, “She will not be coming for Christmas then?”
Darcy prevented himself from laughing fully aloud but still wheezed noisily and unevenly.
Always, her wit took him unawares. The hiatus in their conversation left the room notably quiet.
He glanced sidelong at the other occupants, then back at Elizabeth with a smirk.
She did the same, then bit her lips together in amusement.
Everybody present was staring at them with varying degrees of fascination, perplexity, and amusement.
“It is extraordinary, is it not?” Mrs Gardiner remarked. “They have been doing that all week. It is impossible to follow.”
“I am not surprised by it,” Mr Bennet said. “I can barely get a word in edgeways with a voice. Without one, Mr Darcy stands no chance.”
“I daresay you will have more opportunity to be heard when these two are no longer at home,” Mr Gardiner said, indicating his nieces with a nod.
“With Lizzy gone, perhaps,” Mr Bennet replied with a twinkle in his eye. “Jane has never been as much trouble.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Why, thank you, Papa, but though the comparison has been drawn”—she glanced at Darcy—“even I am not as spirited as Lydia. You will have to wait for her to marry before you truly have any peace at Longbourn.”
“And you may rest assured that will not be for many years,” her father replied, also glancing at Darcy and giving him a small nod, “therefore you may expect me to visit Pemberley very often to escape the noise at home.”
Darcy returned the nod with a small one of his own.
Since even Elizabeth had been so thoroughly taken in, he had made sure to warn Mr Bennet against allowing any of his other, less sensible daughters to befriend Wickham.
A few extra visits were something to which he would gladly submit if it would avoid any of his new sisters being embroiled in scandal.
Indeed, perceiving the similarity between Elizabeth’s playfulness and her father’s—something he had not appreciated before this evening—made the prospect of his visiting even less onerous.
“You are welcome at any time, sir,” he mouthed.
Mr Bennet raised his eyebrows and turned his head slightly, as though expecting that the words might yet to find their way to his ears if he listened hard enough.
“He said you are welcome occasionally, and only if you do not bring the noise with you,” Elizabeth said, which was much closer to what Darcy had meant.
Elizabeth’s paraphrasing his comments became something of a theme for the remainder of the evening.
Those who knew Darcy best of the company grew increasingly perplexed by the answers Elizabeth occasionally put in his mouth.
Those who knew her best seemed better able take everything she said with a pinch of salt and only shook their heads and smiled secretly at their dinner plates.
At some point towards the end of dinner, however, somewhere after his third glass of wine, it happened that the tables turned, and Elizabeth found it necessary to begin moderating his remarks.
“I hope you like the gammon, Mr Darcy,” Miss Bingley said around the footman refilling her glass. “I had cook prepare it especially for you. I thought you might enjoy a treat after having been indisposed for so long, and I know it is your favourite.”
Darcy did not miss the sly glance she sent to Elizabeth as she said this. He was certain Elizabeth saw it too, though she was good enough to pretend she had not. “Is it?” she enquired innocently instead.
“It is,” he admitted.
“Really, Miss Eliza,” Miss Bingley exclaimed. “Do you not even know which are your future husband’s favourite foods?”