Chapter 7
Charlotte had called at Longbourn on Saturday and accepted the invitation from Elizabeth and Jane to join them in calling upon Miss Bingley.
Climbing into the Bennet carriage when it stopped before Lucas Lodge, she announced, “I tried to convince Maria to come along as well—I should very much like to see her spend more time with sensible people like Miss Bingley—but she was hoping to meet Lydia and Kitty in Meryton. What is that you have there, Lizzy?”
“Books for Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth replied. “She did not enjoy the novels she read at school—it sounded as though they were very much of the silly sort—and I have endeavoured to find her something more fitting to her tastes.”
“What have you selected?” Jane enquired.
“Miss Newton’s Tour and The Dire Pyramid.”
The other ladies’ eyebrows rose. “I would recommend the first to anyone, of course, but what are you about with the latter?” Charlotte asked with patent amusement.
“It is so delightfully absurd!” Elizabeth exclaimed. She considered her words for a moment, then offered, “I have had the impression that there is something weighing upon our new friend’s mind. I hope it might make her laugh, that is all.”
“That is very kind of you, Lizzy,” said Jane.
“And if she has any appreciation for the ridiculous, I have no doubt it will serve the purpose,” Charlotte agreed.
“You quite enjoyed it yourself, as I recall,” Elizabeth teased. Charlotte allowed that she had.
They were received warmly by Miss Bingley and civilly by Mrs Hurst, who was largely content to sit silent as her sister entertained her new friends.
Their conversation began with books, as Elizabeth relinquished and explained her selections.
Miss Bingley seemed rather bemused by the choice of a wild Gothic novel, but declared herself willing to trust in Elizabeth’s taste and give it a try.
When the subject of fashion arose next, stemming from a comment of Jane’s regarding the cut of Miss Bingley’s dress, Mrs Hurst proved more voluble.
Upon this subject she had real knowledge, being a devotee of all the ladies’ magazines and a regular visitor to the windows of the shops on Bond Street.
The ladies of Hertfordshire were interested to learn from her that Mechlin lace was becoming quite as popular as Brussels lace.
“My uncle often has Mechlin lace in his warehouse,” commented Jane, “and I have always thought it very pretty. It is more understated than Brussels lace, and suits my tastes better.”
“You have relations in trade, then?” Mrs Hurst’s tone was not censorious, but neither was it warm.
“Indeed we do. Mr Gardiner is my mother’s brother.
His father was a solicitor, the founder of the practice my uncle Philips now holds in Meryton.
Uncle Gardiner favoured business over the law and was correct to do so,” Elizabeth replied, hinting delicately at the success of which it would be vulgar to speak openly.
“My modiste has mentioned more than once that she purchases much of her muslin, silk, and lace from Gardiner Imports,” Miss Bingley said, brow faintly furrowed. “What a coincidence! Surely there cannot be two men called Gardiner dealing in lace in town?”
Mrs Hurst’s narrow-eyed glance at her sister spoke volumes, which Miss Bingley affected not to notice.
“That is his business,” Jane confirmed. “I understand he supplies several well-known modistes and milliners in London, though he is too discreet to name them.”
“We might at this moment be wearing muslin supplied by Mr Gardiner, Louisa,” Miss Bingley remarked lightly. “What a small place the world is at times.”
Mrs Hurst produced a thin-lipped smile and said only, “Indeed.”
Charlotte remarked then that it had been pleasantly warm for October this past week, and the subject of relations in trade was left behind.
“Come, Darcy, let us return to the house,” Bingley said, wheeling his horse about. “You have filled my head with enough facts for one day. Allow my poor brain-box to sort and store them before you offer any more!”
“As you wish,” he replied, following. Though Bingley’s lease was confined to the house, park, and hunting rights, he had taken the place partly because Mr Perkins, the steward, was a friendly fellow, happy to discuss the estate and the tenantry.
By living on a working estate and availing himself of the knowledge offered by his friend and the steward, Bingley had a fine opportunity to prepare himself to own and manage an estate of his own in the not-too-distant future.
That there was a possibility of purchasing the estate only sweetened the deal.
As they rode up to the stables, they saw an unfamiliar carriage and team being cared for by one of the grooms. “Excellent!” Bingley exclaimed. “They must have just arrived.”
“To whom do you refer?” Darcy asked, though he knew very well which visitors were expected today. His friend seemed not to catch the teasing note in his query, however.
“The Miss Bennets were to call upon my sisters today. I had hoped for an opportunity to see her—them—and fate has smiled upon me. Hurry up, man, I must repair my appearance before they leave!”
Darcy shook his head wryly. He allowed himself to be hurried off his horse, into the house, and up the stairs.
Bingley hummed a jaunty tune as they ascended to their chambers.
He stopped short at the head of the stairs, where Darcy must go left to reach his chamber in the guest wing, and Bingley the opposite way to the master’s suite in the family wing.
“You will come down and greet the ladies, will you not, Darcy?”
“Yes, of course. I will join you there shortly.”
Bingley grinned and trotted down the corridor like a boy promised a treat. Darcy walked sedately to his own chamber and submitted to his valet’s ministrations in ridding him of dust and exchanging his riding clothes for attire more proper to a morning call.
He emerged from his chamber impeccably groomed and ready, if not eager, to be civil to the young ladies of Longbourn.
All the eagerness was Bingley’s; his friend had preceded him and was laughing with the ladies when Darcy entered the parlour.
It did not escape his notice that merriment cooled into formality upon his arrival.
The swiftness with which humour was supplanted by stiff courtesy on Miss Elizabeth’s mobile face struck him particularly, and he noted how her sister and Miss Lucas seemed to lean towards her unconsciously.
Even Miss Bingley regarded him with a hint of wariness.
Only Mrs Hurst seemed entirely unperturbed by his coming.
Shame curdled his innards as he truly felt the effect of his careless speech on others for the first time. Still, he persevered. Bowing, he said, “Miss Lucas, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, what a pleasure to meet with you again. Good day.”
Miss Bingley smoothed the awkward moment by offering refreshment and commenting that her brother had said their ride had been quite fine.
He agreed and made a remark upon the beauty of the countryside, which seemed to please the visitors.
He used the ten minutes before the ladies took their leave attempting to show himself to better advantage by attending closely to the conversation and contributing only positive statements.
He was once again unable to secure a moment with Miss Elizabeth to tender his apologies, and watched them depart with an uncomfortable sense that he was falling behind in a race he had not known he was running.
Darcy found himself increasingly puzzled by Miss Bingley.
It was not that he had any objection to her behaviour since they had been in Hertfordshire.
Quite the reverse, in fact—she had not said or done a single thing he found at all objectionable during the whole of his stay at Netherfield to date, which was exactly what confused him.
And now, of a quiet evening in the parlour after dinner, she sat quite enthralled by a book.
He could not recall ever seeing her read aught but a ladies’ magazine, yet tonight she seemed captivated by a volume bound in blue cloth, and frequently bit her lip as her shoulders shook with silent laughter.
At last, he could bear it no longer. “Pardon me, Miss Bingley, but might I enquire as to what it is you are reading?”
Her head came up and her startled expression quickly smoothed into a polite smile. “It is The Dire Pyramid, sir.”
He frowned. “Is that not one of those horrid Gothic novels?”
“It is indeed. I did not expect to enjoy it at all, but when she lent it to me, Miss Elizabeth suggested that I read it as though it were intended to be a farce, and I must say I have rarely been so entertained. It is utterly ridiculous and therefore endlessly amusing.” She laughed softly, then sobered.
“I should not recommend it to a young person who might take it seriously, of course. Please do not think I mean to suggest it would be suitable for Miss Darcy.”
“I had no thought of the kind,” he replied, nonplussed by this exchange. “Pray forgive me for interrupting you.”
Later, when the ladies and Hurst had retired and Bingley was occupied in replying to a letter from one of his seemingly endless supply of aunts, Darcy noticed that Miss Bingley had left the volume behind.
Curiously, he picked it up and read the first several chapters.
He had investigated a few works of the sort when Georgiana had expressed an interest in them the year prior, the craze for Gothics having swept her school.
He had been appalled at the notion of a young girl reading such things, but now, taking Miss Elizabeth’s second-hand advice, he caught himself chuckling more than once before he guiltily shut the book and returned it to its place.