Chapter 32 A Season in London #2
Yet such peace was short-lived. The moment Mrs Bennet learnt that the Darcys were staying at Netherfield, tranquillity vanished as swiftly as it had come.
Her mother arrived the very morning after their arrival, well before the hour deemed proper for calling, bringing Jane in tow and a flurry of excitement with her.
She declared herself “quite overcome with joy” at seeing her daughter and son-in-law, even though her manner suggested she had come more to push one daughter at a suitor than for any other reason.
Elizabeth bore it with her usual composure, reminding herself that patience was a virtue—one she was determined to cultivate, if only for her mother’s sake.
Darcy, however, had been less composed; his jaw tightened each time Mrs Bennet’s voice carried through the drawing room, and when she overstayed her welcome, Elizabeth saw in his eyes the silent plea for escape that she could not grant.
After only three days of this, the Darcys—taking Jane with them—returned to London.
Elizabeth was torn between relief and guilt.
She would miss her youngest sisters, yet the prospect of further unannounced visits from Longbourn convinced her that retreat was the wisest course.
Her relationship with Jane remained affectionate, yet it was no longer what it had once been; the lingering effects of Jane’s earlier behaviour had subtly but undeniably altered their closeness.
With her marriage to Darcy, he had become her truest confidant and dearest companion.
Mr Bennet, amused by the entire affair, declared that if Bingley wished to court Jane, he might as well do so in London. “It will spare me,” he said drily, “from your mother’s constant speculation on the matter—and from her triumph when it inevitably comes to pass.”
Elizabeth laughed, well aware that her father’s humour often concealed more truth than jest. Before they departed, Mr Bennet took her aside and, with his customary mixture of irony and affection, informed her that he considered the marriage between Jane and Bingley all but settled.
The lad, as he still called him, was daily proving himself worthy, and since Jane appeared perfectly content, he saw no reason to object any further.
With a wry smile, he entrusted Darcy with permission to sanction the match should Bingley declare himself while they were in town—and, in an unusually practical gesture, handed over a bank draft for Jane’s trousseau.
Accepting both the confidence and the humour with a fond shake of her head, Elizabeth considered that her father—despite all his indifference to society—could still act the part of a most considerate parent when he chose.
As the carriage rolled away from Longbourn where they had collected Jane, Elizabeth caught Darcy’s eye and smiled. “Well, William,” she said softly, “Papa has decided to make you his agent in all matrimonial matters. You had best be cautious, or he may send you more daughters to settle.”
Darcy’s low laugh filled the carriage. “Then I shall consider myself forewarned, Mrs Darcy. Once Bingley is wed, I intend to resign my commission. I will not act as a matchmaker again until it is Georgiana’s time to come out, and even that I may delay until she is twenty just so I do not have to endure another Season in town until I have had these two or three years to recover. ”
Elizabeth laughed too, the last of her tension easing as the familiar fields fell away behind them. For the first time in days, she felt entirely at peace. It would not, perhaps, last too long, but at least she had her dearest William by her side.
The months of April and May passed more swiftly than Elizabeth could have imagined.
Jane was warmly received in town, her beauty and gentle manners earning admiration wherever she went.
Introduced as Mr Darcy’s sister by marriage, she quickly became the object of considerable attention within the ton—attention that, to Elizabeth’s amusement, Jane accepted with her usual modest grace.
Mr Bingley joined them in London soon after.
With the Hursts remaining at his family’s estate, he took rooms at his club—propriety, and Darcy’s firm sense of it, preventing him from residing at Darcy House while actively courting Jane.
His visits, however, were frequent, and his devotion plain for all to see.
Determined to do his duty both by Jane and by Netherfield, he divided his time between the capital and his estate, travelling back and forth with admirable regularity.
With Jane now settled at Darcy House, Georgiana and Mary soon joined the household from Matlock House.
Mary had accompanied Georgiana there after the wedding, the two having formed a comfortable and genuine friendship during Georgiana’s brief stay at Netherfield.
The Matlocks were quite content to include Mary in their plans, for Georgiana was not yet out, and Mary—preferring quieter pursuits to the frequent social engagements of the London season—was always willing to remain with her when the others ventured out in the evenings.
Their days passed in happy companionship while visiting museums and select shops, exploring whatever exhibitions London offered, and, on occasion, attending the theatre with the entire Darcy House party.
“I do not think I shall ever tire of visiting the British Museum,” Mary said one morning as they returned to the carriage after spending several hours enjoying the exhibits. “There is so much to learn and to see—so many marvels gathered in one place.”
Elizabeth smiled as she took her husband’s offered arm. “Indeed, it is remarkable. Sadly, my feet are not quite as scholarly as my mind after so many hours of walking. I have become rather soft, living so long in town.”
“And so much to buy at the shops afterwards,” Georgiana added with a shy smile, tightening her hand around her reticule. This earned a laugh from the others.
Darcy shook his head fondly as the carriage set off westward through the bustle of Oxford Street. “If every visit to the museum ends with a call at three shops and a milliner’s, I fear my purse will not survive the season.”
Elizabeth gave him a playful look. “A small price to pay for the education of your sisters, sir. They are expanding both their minds and their wardrobes.”
Their next stop, as was fast becoming tradition, was Gunter’s in Berkeley Square.
The spring day was bright and fair, and the promise of ices proved irresistible after their hours among antiquities.
Elizabeth sat opposite her sisters, delighting in the sight of their animated faces as they debated the merits of lemon versus strawberry.
“I believe,” Elizabeth declared at last, lifting her spoon with mock solemnity, “that enjoyment may be found as easily in a dish of Gunter’s lemon ice as in all the halls of the British Museum. We must contrive some means of imitating this when we are at home at Pemberley.”
Darcy’s lips curved into a smile—one that, once rare, had become far more frequent since his marriage to the astonishment of many of his acquaintances.
Leaning close, he murmured for her ear alone, “Then you will be pleased to know, my love, that Pemberley possesses both an orangery, where we grow lemons and other citrus fruits, and an ice house, so you may enjoy ices throughout the summer.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled as she tilted her head towards him. “How fortunate that I married such a man of foresight. I begin to suspect you planned all this only to keep me content.”
His answering smile deepened. “If providing you with lemon ices will secure your happiness, Mrs Darcy, I shall consider it the wisest investment I ever made.”
She laughed softly, her voice low and teasing. “Then, sir, I promise to make the expenditure worth every penny.”
Darcy was often seen in company with his wife and their sisters, even if the Darcys attended even fewer events than they had before their trip to Hertfordshire.
Although Mary was formally out, she preferred Georgiana’s gentler amusements, and Jane, like Elizabeth, found little pleasure in the endless whirl of London society.
Accordingly, they reserved their appearances for those occasions Lady Matlock most firmly insisted upon.
Whenever Mr Bingley was in London, he was a constant presence at their sides.
He escorted Jane to balls and musicales, accompanied the sisters to the theatre, and joined them on leisurely walks through Hyde Park.
More than once, Elizabeth smiled to see him leading Jane to Gunter’s for ices or waiting patiently while the ladies lingered over ribbons, books, and trifles.
One afternoon, as Elizabeth and Darcy walked together in Hyde Park, watching Jane and Bingley ahead of them, she said softly, “They are very well suited, are they not?”
Darcy followed her gaze, a faint smile curving his lips. “Perfectly. Bingley’s manner complements your sister’s gentleness. I daresay he has learnt much from his past mistakes. Managing his estate and disentangling himself from his sister’s influence have both done him good.”
Elizabeth glanced up at him, her eyes alight with mischief. “And you, sir—have you learnt anything from your mistakes?”
He looked down at her, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Only that marrying my dearest friend was the wisest decision I ever made—and that abandoning all my former notions of what constituted a proper match was long overdue.”
Elizabeth’s heart softened. She tightened her hold on his arm, drawing him a little nearer—the closest thing to an embrace that propriety would allow in so public a place.
“Then let us hope they too discover such friendship,” she said softly, glancing towards Jane and Bingley ahead of them.
“For I cannot imagine marrying anyone but you—and I am grateful that you are my very best friend.”