9. The Road to London—Monday, 11 December 1809
Travelling to London with Miss Elizabeth Bennet elicited decidedly mixed emotions in Darcy.
He was delighted with Miss Bennet’s fascinating conversation, cautiously optimistic that Fate seemed determined that they should marry, increasingly confident that she felt for him something akin to his own regard for her, tortured to be near her yet unable to touch her, and troubled by his increasing inability to focus on work or achieve restful sleep.
When reading about romantic love as both delight and torture—from Petrarch to Shakespeare to Donne—Darcy had always assumed that such a clash of emotions was exaggerated or, at least, something that only highly sentimental people would feel.
He had never considered himself, nor been considered by others, as even a little bit sentimental.
Yet here he was, for the first time in his life, seemingly the embodiment of love-induced conflicted feelings.
The maid who accompanied them in the carriage was perhaps in her thirties and properly quiet and respectful.
She kept her eyes on the passing scenery until, around an hour into the trip, she seemed to have fallen asleep.
It was easy enough to ignore her; still, the maid’s presence meant that he could certainly not speak of his hopes and feelings.
‘Tis for the best, he told himself. We have only known each other as a man and a woman for a week.
Luckily, Miss Bennet was more skilled than Darcy in conversation, and she brought up all manner of topics.
She asked about the fate of the blackbirds (they were sent to a neighbour who bred and trained falcons); she wondered if Darcy bred birds of prey (he did not); she enquired about his experiments with camellias and orchids, mentioned in the article in Curtis’s Botanical Magazine (he talked for some time about his successes with those exotic imports), and she wanted to know what species of bird he most enjoyed breeding (the golden pheasant).
With only a bit more than an hour left of their journey, Darcy asked what her hopes and dreams for herself were—and hearing the question trembling in the air, he hurried to add, “in regard to bird breeding and horticulture.”
“I hope to have a pinery and an orangery as well as a hothouse and a greenhouse for other fruits and vegetables. All of those would be separate from the house, but attached to the house would be a formal conservatory with beautiful flowers and fountains. Plus, of course, there would be a completely separate and gigantic aviary with several hundred breeding pairs.” She smiled, boosting one eyebrow up in a playful way.
He suggested, “You are teasing?”
She laughed, and Mrs Morris woke up with a start. “My apologies, Morris,” Miss Bennet said. Then she turned to Darcy and said, “But of course I am teasing! I do not truly hope for so much, but if there were such things as unlimited wishes, I might wish for all of those things.”
He smiled, inwardly contented that he could, indeed, supply all of those things. He could not necessarily grant unlimited wishes, but he had the resources to indulge a great many.
He hoped he might be able to…someday.
Gracechurch Street was every bit as congested as he imagined it would be, trade wagons and freight carts moving slowly.
Despite the time it took because of stoppages for unloading carts and other assorted delays, taking Miss Bennet to her relations’ home was quite satisfying.
The house itself was far more impressive than he could have imagined—large, pristine, and well-furnished.
He met the Gardiners, and he was immediately struck by how fashionable they were, and apparently intelligent and well-educated—but the prevailing feeling from both Mr and Mrs Gardiner was warmth and welcome.
He had no need to guess why Miss Bennet would travel to them for the holidays, rather than the Gardiner family doing their usual Christmas visit at Longbourn—because Mrs Gardiner was in the family way and possibly quite near her time of confinement.
Darcy gave Mr Gardiner a list of several events and exhibits he meant to attend, along with an invitation to him and Miss Bennet if they had time and were interested.
“But I understand you may not wish to commit to evenings away,” he said, “and there is certainly no need to make an excuse for not going or even for changing plans at the last minute.”
Mr Gardiner bowed to him. “I am very grateful for your thoughtfulness. Let me ask, if I cannot attend but could arrange a married woman to attend as chaperone, would just Elizabeth be welcome to go with you to the public events? Or would that create expectations among strangers and acquaintances?”
Mr Darcy blushed. “I believe that a lecture or two would not create expectations. Also, I hoped to bring my young sister. She is not old enough to be out, but I feel she needs to become accustomed to being in the public eye at events such as concerts and lectures.”
“Excellent,” Mr Gardiner responded. “You would like to go to these lectures and demonstrations, would you not, Lizzy?”
Miss Bennet nodded eagerly. “I would love to attend any and all of them. But of course I wish to do what is best for everyone, not just me.”
There was a chorus of thank yous as Darcy left.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner thanked him several times each for bringing their niece all the way to their home.
And among Miss Bennet’s several iterations of thanks for a comfortable and safe journey to London was this expression of gratitude: “I can only repeat what I have said and written before: Thank you for your unparalleled generosity in sharing your knowledge with me. I have always deeply appreciated it, but now that I know you a bit, I feel even more honoured to have been on the receiving end of your time and effort.”
Miss Bennet said this as she walked him to the door, and he cocked his head as he studied her face. “You sound as if you are saying goodbye forever.”
“Well, life does have its twists and turns, and I am not certain I will see you again, so I felt it very important to thank you for the most important gift—the two years’ worth of correspondence and sharing knowledge.”
“But…the lectures and demonstrations—you said you would like to attend….”
“I said I would love to attend them. But my aunt’s needs, and propriety…. It may not work out. I am just snatching the opportunity I am certain of—right here, right now—to thank you properly. Just in case I never see you again.”
He was outside the door at that point, and she smiled and nodded and closed the door…
. It was as if she closed the door in his face, but he did not feel as if she insulted him.
She was clearly being, not just polite, but quite warm and appreciative and even hopeful. But also practical and clear-sighted.
He apparently had not raised her expectations.
And suddenly, he wished that he had. Her words had raised in him an unfamiliar feeling—a panicky feeling, as if something would arise that meant he would not be able to see her, even if he wished to—as if he could not control an aspect of his life that, he realised, he dearly wished to control.
Feeling the unaccustomed flutter of anxiety, Darcy descended the steps from the Gardiner’s front door to the street level, climbed into his carriage, and settled back against the squabs.
During the half hour it took to ride to Darcy House, he tried to exert his own powers of reasoning to consider Miss Bennet’s words.
She was correct. There was no guarantee that they would see each other again. There never was, between any two people. Accidents, natural disasters, illness, and even death could get in the way of even firm plans; and they did not have firm plans to attend an event together.
Second, she was highly principled. He had always had that feeling. Miss Bennet was bold enough to ask for answers to important questions, but she was also mindful of others’ time and efforts, and she always acknowledged her debts.
At this point, Darcy had done something he had never done before in all his five and twenty years…
something he had never planned to do. He had flirted with a young, unmarried woman.
He had spoken with subtle irony, he had smiled, and he supposed he had gazed at her overmuch.
When she had blushed and claimed not to know why, he had asked, “Do you not?”
She ought to be assuming that he would be calling on her, courting her. But instead she continued on being far too reasonable and humble and principled.
If he truly never saw her again…. It was shocking how bereft he felt about such a possibility.