Chapter 8
Longbourn
Midday
An unfamiliar gig of plain and unadorned aspect sat on the white gravel of the Longbourn driveway.
One of the stable boys had been sent into Meryton the previous evening to hire the conveyance from Mr. Milton who, as well as serving as the town blacksmith, kept a few vehicles to rent out as needed.
The rented gig had arrived at the promised time this morning, and Mrs. Bennet was eyeing it with a blend of consternation and chagrin.
It did not, she thought, reflect well on the Bennets that they were sending their guest all the way to the town of Bonneton in a hired gig.
There was nothing for it, however; the stagecoach came no closer than Bonneton, and the Bennet carriage was in London at the service of its master.
A sudden gust of wind made Mrs. Bennet shiver, and she successfully redirected her mind from the subject of vehicles to her own chilly state.
She had merely stepped out onto the stoop to bid farewell to their departing guest and had not bothered with pelisse or hat or gloves.
At least she would not be outside long enough for the chill to settle into her bones; within minutes she would be waving Mr. Collins down the carriage drive, and when the gig turned into the lane, she would return inside and take up a chair beside the fire in the warm drawing room.
“I am so very sorry you are required to leave for Kent before your betrothed and Mr. Bennet return from London,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Are you quite certain you must return to your parsonage? Can you not stay a few more days?”
Mr. Collins had been watching as the owner of the gig carefully placed his trunk behind a bench, but at these words, he turned wide and horrified eyes on his hostess.
“Stay for a few more days? My dear Mrs. Bennet, Lady Catherine was incredibly generous in permitting me to leave Hunsford for a full ten days. It would be exceptionally rude and ungrateful for me to stay longer when she depends on me to speak tomorrow at the church. Old Mr. Kinton was kind enough to preside at my church last Sunday, but if I do not arrive, Lady Catherine will be very angry, and she might…”
“I understand, sir,” Mrs. Bennet interrupted, lifting a staying and now chilly hand. “I apologize. I am certain both Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth will write you in the coming days so we can plan the date of the wedding.”
Dismay gave way to a beaming smile, and Mr. Collins said, “I look forward to that very much, Madame. We will see one another very soon, when Cousin Elizabeth will make me the happiest of men!”
He climbed into the gig, and the lone gray horse between the shafts shifted smoothly into motion. Mrs. Bennet watched until the gig had turned around entirely, and then she retreated once more into the warm house.
She was, if truth be told, very relieved to be seeing the back of Mr. Collins.
He was tiresomely loquacious and all too eager to ramble on and on about his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
She could only hope that Mr. Bennet lived a good long life, because the thought of living at Longbourn with Elizabeth as mistress and Mr. Collins as master was not particularly pleasant.
Far better that, though, than to lose the estate entirely. It was a wonderful thing to have two daughters engaged to eligible men.
The butler approached at this moment with a letter on a silver platter. “An express from Miss Bennet, Madame.”
She plucked it eagerly from the salver and hurried into the drawing room, where Mary was reading a book by the fire, and Kitty and Lydia were seated side by side on a couch, looking through a volume of The Ladies Monthly Museum.
“Listen to this, my dears!” Mrs. Bennet cried out, spreading the paper wide and walking over to the window. Her eyes were not quite as good as they had been, and she found she needed extra light nowadays.
My dear family,
Charles and I arrived at Gracechurch Street last night, and Father gave us his blessing.
He and Lizzy and Charles and I will be staying here in London for a few more days, at least, as Charles wishes to arrange for the marriage settlements.
I will also visit my Aunt Gardiner’s dressmaker to see about acquiring a gown for the wedding.
My dear Mamma, I wish you could be here to advise me on the matter of garments, but given that we wish to marry soon, I hope you will begin making plans for the wedding breakfast.
I am so very happy!
With much love,
Jane
“Oh, how wonderful!” Kitty cried out excitedly, and Lydia tossed her dark curls and said, “Oh Mamma, may we visit Mrs. Smythe in Meryton and each order a gown for the wedding? We ought all to look our best, surely!”
“Of course, my dears, of course!” Mrs. Bennet declared, and then her face fell. “But Mr. Bennet still has the carriage. It was incredibly selfish of him to take it with him to London.”
“Perhaps we could hire a coach from Mr. Milton?” Lydia asked eagerly.
Mrs. Bennet considered this and then shook her head. “He has nothing appropriate for us. We are, after all, the most well-known family in the area, and I would not be seen in a gig.”
“Well, what are we to do, then?” Lydia demanded. “We must have new gowns!”
“You must, of course you must, but we can wait until Mr. Bennet returns with Jane. Oh, my dears! Two daughters well engaged! If I could have all of my daughters as well married, I would have nothing left to wish for!”
***
Gregson House
Half Moon Street
Later
“Jane is engaged to Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Oh, Mr. Darcy, what wonderful news!”
He smiled in response to her obvious joy and then happened to catch sight of Mrs. Gregson, who was considering him with a thoughtful look on her face and a speculative glint in her eyes.
He felt his cheeks heat slightly, but he forced his gaze back to Miss Bennet, which was no punishment. Elizabeth Bennet was, in his view, one of the most beautiful women in all of England, and now, with her cheeks flushed with pleasure and her fine eyes dancing, she was glorious.
“Did you have anything to do with this, sir?” she asked suddenly.
He coughed and said, “It was, erm, that is, Bingley visited me and requested my opinion, and I told him that I did not know your sister’s heart, and that he ought to make his own decision on the matter. He did so, and in short order, they were engaged.”
She was suddenly solemn and said, “Thank you, Mr. Darcy, for not discouraging Mr. Bingley from marrying Jane.”
“You are welcome. All I have ever wanted for him is his happiness.”
She heaved a big sigh and leaned back against the blue chair, and her shoulders relaxed a little.
“I suppose I can probably return home now?” she mused. “Surely my father will no longer be upset now over my rejection of Mr. Collins that Jane will soon be married to a generous and wealthy man?”
Darcy blew out a breath and chose his words with care.
“I do not pretend to know Mr. Bennet well, but I asked Bingley his opinion on your father’s current intentions, and he declared that Mr. Bennet is still very angry with you and likely has not repented of his insistence that you marry Mr. Collins.
You must make your own choice, of course, but it might be wise to stay here a little longer. ”
Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, saddened at these words, and she turned a mournful look on her hostess. “But I do not wish to overstay my welcome.”
“My dear Miss Bennet, I am well known for speaking truth, so please believe me when I tell you that you are doing me a considerable service in staying with me. I have been quite lonesome of late, and your clever and bright presence is a great boon.”
“Thank you. In that case, I will stay for a little longer.”
“There is another thing,” Darcy said. “I recommended to Bingley that he send in notices of his upcoming wedding to your sister to all the major London newspapers. I suggested that you would probably see them and might return home.”
She tilted her head at these words, contemplated, and then nodded. “That is not even a lie.”
“It is not,” Darcy agreed. “You may well see the notice in the Times and decide to go back to Longbourn. It is your choice, after all.”
“My choice,” she murmured. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Gregson, for allowing me to make a choice in this matter.”
“It is our pleasure, my dear,” Mrs. Gregson said.
The younger woman blew out a breath and said, “I will stay, as it seems prudent, but I feel terrible about Jane. She must be very worried about me.”
“Perhaps you could write her a letter and Darcy can post it from somewhere else in the City?” Mrs. Gregson suggested. “You could simply explain that you are healthy and well, and if it is sent from elsewhere, no one will be able to trace you by the letter itself.”
“That is brilliant,” Elizabeth said and turned toward Darcy. “Are you willing to do that for me?”
He would do anything for her, anything at all.
“Yes, it would be my honor,” he said simply.
***
Drawing Room
Hurst House
London
Later
An air of peace filled the drawing room of Hurst House.
The crackling of the fire was punctuated by the bass of Mr. Hurst’s snores where he leaned draped across a settee, the light playing over his face without any power to wake him.
He was entirely ignored by his wife and her sister, who were seated side by side in plush chairs opposite his settee.
Caroline had claimed the chair closer to the fire, her workbasket at her feet, with linen and thread spread across her lap.
Beside her, Louisa gazed into the fire, her gold bracelets clinking together softly as she fidgeted with them.
“We should invite Mr. and Miss Darcy over for dinner next Thursday,” Louisa said. “That will give us time to order everything we need for a truly excellent dinner. Mr. Darcy likes turbot, and Miss Darcy enjoys those little cheesecakes that Cook makes so well.”