Chapter 29 Miss Darcy Meets the Bennets
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
MISS DARCY MEETS THE BENNETS
As planned, Darcy departed for London the day before Christmas Eve.
With Wickham at last dealt with, he intended to shorten his stay to a mere se’nnight and return to Hertfordshire sooner, bringing his sister with him.
He had no interest in attending his aunt’s grand Twelfth Night ball—not without Elizabeth—and had decided his aunt must simply endure his absence that year.
He had spoken to Elizabeth of the matter more than once, half hoping there might be some way to bring her with him—as his wife.
The idea had taken root between them, and they had spoken of the matter with Mr Bennet.
Although he was reluctant, he had given his consent—on one condition: that Mrs Bennet approved as well.
Mrs Bennet most assuredly did not. Her indignation was immediate and dramatic.
“You said I had six weeks to plan this wedding, and I will not have you shorten it by so much as a day!” she cried, fluttering her hands in distress.
“If we were to rush the marriage, the whole neighbourhood would think there was some scandalous reason for it—and Lizzy swears there is not. What else could they think? No, I will not have anyone believe that any of my daughters behaved improperly! Besides,” she continued, with a sigh worthy of the stage, “I have barely time enough as it is! How am I to do all that needs to be done if you take a fortnight from me? Impossible. Utterly impossible. This wedding shall be on the fifteenth of January as planned, and not a moment sooner!”
Elizabeth had tried to reason with her, but her mother would not be moved.
Darcy, to his credit, had only smiled faintly, his eyes meeting hers with quiet understanding before he promised to wait as patiently as he could.
Yet when his carriage rolled away from Longbourn that morning, Elizabeth could not help the hollow ache that settled in her chest.
The house felt emptier without him—its rooms quieter, its familiar corners somehow hollow. The days stretched longer, the silence heavier, as if the very air mourned his absence. Although Elizabeth knew he would return soon enough, she could not shake the feeling that part of her had gone with him.
With the Gardiners having decided to forego their usual Christmas visit—intending instead to arrive a se’nnight before the wedding—Elizabeth found herself with fewer distractions than usual.
The hours that might once have been spent in lively company or cheerful conversation now moved more slowly, their quiet made keener by his absence.
Still, she did not sink into idleness, busying herself with finalising their preparations for Boxing Day, joining her sisters in filling baskets for the tenants and cottagers of both Longbourn and Netherfield as they usually did.
It was a task in which she took great pleasure, having spent time weeks earlier in deciding on small comforts to include in each basket—cakes, preserves, ribbons, and bits of warm cloth—and arranging them neatly with Jane and Mary’s help while Kitty and Lydia, far less patient, tied cheerful bows upon the finished parcels.
On Boxing Day, they would distribute the baskets.
Without the Gardiners to assist them, additional help was required, which Mr Bingley and the Netherfield steward were happy to provide.
For Bingley, this was his first Christmas leasing an estate, and he was delighted to discover the custom and to lend his assistance to the Bennet family.
Even so, when the errands were done and the bustle faded, she was left again with her thoughts—and with a quieter, more personal resolve.
She meant to use this time to bridge what distance still lay between herself and Jane.
While their bond was mending, it was not yet what it had once been.
Some of that, she knew, was her own fault—too much of her time had been claimed by her intended, by the wedding preparations, and by their mother’s endless insistence on consultations and lists.
But beneath all that lingered something she could not quite name—a faint, lingering hurt from Jane’s doubts and accusations, a wound of affection more than pride.
Elizabeth sighed and gazed out at the wintry landscape beyond the window.
She did not wish to indulge resentment; Jane was too dear to her for that.
Yet if they were ever to recover their former closeness, the truth between them must be faced—the hurt one sister had caused, and the forgiveness the other must learn to offer.
Neither was entirely blameless for the distance that had grown between them, yet one of them must be the first to bridge it.
“Jane, would you care to go for a walk with me?” Elizabeth asked the morning after Boxing Day. She caught the quick flash of surprise on her sister’s face—Jane had not expected the invitation.
“Of course, Lizzy,” Jane replied at once, her smile tinged with uncertainty. She hurried off to fetch her pelisse and bonnet while Elizabeth stepped outside to wait, drawing her shawl more tightly around her shoulders as the cold December air bit at her cheeks.
When Jane joined her a few minutes later, the two set off through the barren garden.
The paths were edged with frost, the grass brittle beneath their feet.
For a while they walked in silence, their breaths clouding the air between them.
Elizabeth had not meant for it to feel awkward, but words seemed stubbornly slow to come.
It was Jane who finally broke the quiet. “Lizzy,” she said, her voice tentative, “why did you not tell me at once when Mr Darcy asked you for a courtship?”
Elizabeth hesitated. She had expected the question eventually—but not so directly, nor so soon.
“I did not mean to keep it from you,” she began carefully.
“But do you not remember what I told you about that morning at Netherfield?
When I was helping Mrs Nicholls tend to one of the maids—that Miss Bingley had thrown something in a fit of temper, striking the poor girl and injuring her.
When Mrs Nicholls asked to send for the apothecary, Miss Bingley refused, saying it was unnecessary.
I attempted to help as best I could, and it was then that Mr Darcy came upon us.
“He saw the situation at once and offered to pay for the apothecary himself if Miss Bingley would not. Afterward, when the others had gone, we spoke for a few minutes. Hearing Mrs Nicholls praise the good he had done for the tenants—how he saw to their needs and never forgot those who served him—made me curious. I asked him—rather impertinently, I admit—how he could be so considerate to a servant and yet so proud and distant towards the people of Meryton.”
She smiled faintly, the memory carrying a quiet sting.
“At the time, I was certain he disliked me, and I freely admit I thought him arrogant and unlikable. Yet we spoke for some time that afternoon, and I began to perceive another side of his character. He acknowledged an interest in me, but confessed himself unwilling to pursue it until we had spoken frankly with one another. The more time we spent together—particularly after Miss Bingley’s departure—the more I found myself liking him.
At first, I believe, it was very much against my own inclination. ”
Elizabeth stopped, looking down at her gloved hands before continuing.
“When I tried to speak to you about it, you were curt with me. You warned me not to toy with Mr Bingley’s friend and said I might embarrass you.
I knew you were anxious about your own situation, but still…
it hurt. I thought you did not wish to hear anything I had to say, so I said nothing more. ”
Jane halted in her steps, her expression pained.
“Oh, Lizzy,” she said softly. “I did not mean to make you feel that way. Can you forgive me for hurting you? I was so afraid of losing Mr Bingley’s regard that I let my fears guide my tongue.
I admired him so much, and I thought I was falling in love with him.
Then Miss Bingley told me he was as good as promised to another, and I… I suppose I took her at her word.”
Her voice wavered, and Elizabeth’s irritation melted into compassion.
She reached for Jane’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I know,” she said quietly. “You have always believed the best of others, and Miss Bingley was clever at disguising malice as concern. I was angry then, and hurt, but I forgive you now.”
“I was concerned mostly about myself,” Jane admitted.
“I could not understand what had changed and even had you told me this then, I would not have believed you. As much as I hate to admit it, I envied you, not just because you had so obviously won over Mr Darcy, but because your suitor—for even I recognised that he was your suitor, I think—was so much more… obvious in his affection for you than Mr Bingley was for me. Yes, he seemed to prefer my company, but with his sister’s words in my ears, I did not know what to think. ”
“It seems that Mr Bingley has made his intentions more clear now, has he not?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, he is now formally calling on me, even though Papa informed him that he may only call a few times a week after your wedding,” Jane said. “Papa, I think, has seen more than we realised and insisted that we come to know each other better over the next several months.”
Elizabeth nodded, having heard a similar account from Mr Darcy.
“I think that will give you both the time you need to decide what you truly want,” she said gently.
“From what little I have seen, you and Mr Bingley seem much more at ease with one another now—and you speak more openly than before. It must help that Miss Bingley is no longer present to interfere.”
“Yes,” Jane agreed, and the two began, once again, to walk through the empty gardens, speaking only occasionally as they both reflected on the changes that would soon occur in their family.
Darcy and Georgiana arrived at Netherfield the Monday after Christmas.
Georgiana might have preferred to stop first at the estate and rest after the long journey; still, she had agreed—without complaint—to call at Longbourn directly.
Darcy had not said as much aloud, but his eagerness to see Elizabeth again was plain, and his gentle-hearted sister had understood his desire.
They had intended only a brief visit, but upon finding Bingley already in the drawing room at Longbourn, accepted the Bennets’ invitation to take tea.
Darcy seated himself beside Elizabeth while Georgiana quickly moved to sit next to Mary.
Still shy and uncertain among the unfamiliar Bennets, Georgiana quickly settled into quiet conversation with Mary who was pleased to see her friend again.
Darcy, half listening as he tried to endure Mrs Bennet’s chatter, noted with relief how easily the two young women seemed to understand each other.
Kitty and Lydia, however, were less tranquil. Darcy caught their envious glances towards Georgiana’s gown—a soft blue muslin trimmed with delicate white satin—and soon enough they drifted closer. Lydia, in particular, was not content to admire at a distance.
“Move over, Mary,” Lydia said with an impatient huff, interrupting whatever remark her sister had been making. “You are taking up all the space, and I wish to ask Miss Darcy about her gown. Why do you not sit somewhere else?”
Darcy stiffened, prepared to intervene, but Mary surprised him by lifting her chin with quiet dignity. “There is room enough for both of us if you would sit properly,” she said primly. “And it would be far more polite to wait until Miss Darcy is not already engaged in conversation.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “Engaged in conversation? You are speaking of music again, I suppose. Miss Darcy must be dreadfully bored sitting next to you.”
Again, Darcy would have opened his mouth to defend his sister, but caught a look from his intended and closed it.
Georgiana spoke for herself, her tone calm but firm.
“Not at all, Miss Lydia,” she said with quiet grace.
“Miss Mary and I were discussing a collection of sonatas I let her borrow when we were in London. She plays quite beautifully, and I look forward to hearing her perform one of them someday. In fact, Miss Mary, when you come to call on me at Netherfield tomorrow, do you suppose we might practise?”
Darcy noted the astonishment on Lydia’s face and kept his expression composed as a quiet pride stirred within him.
Georgiana’s confidence had blossomed in the last months, particularly in the last few weeks—due in no small measure to Elizabeth’s influence and the steady friendship she had formed with Mary Bennet.
He knew that his sister had exchanged not a few letters with Elizabeth and Mary.
Mary, meanwhile, straightened in her seat, her expression faintly smug. “I should like that very much, Miss Darcy,” she said, earning a pleased nod from his sister, and what he suspected was a jealous look from Lydia, who had not been invited.
Across the room, Mrs Annesley caught Darcy’s eye and smiled warmly, her expression one of quiet satisfaction. Darcy returned the look with a faint incline of his head.
The Darcys did not remain long after this, and the entire Netherfield party took their leave.
Mrs Bennet tried to persuade them to remain longer, but in deference to Georgiana, they declined the invitation for that night, agreeing to a small New Year’s Eve celebration at Longbourn the following evening.