Chapter XXI
No one who knew Charles Bingley misunderstood that impulsivity was one of his fundamental characteristics. Until the morning he returned to Netherfield Park, however, Darcy had not known how impetuous he could be.
“Darcy,” said Bingley when he alighted from his carriage that morning. “It seems the business with your former friend was completed without delay.”
The way Bingley eyed Georgiana, standing by Darcy’s side, he was certain his friend was being cautious of his words, which was an excellent notion, though not for the reasons he thought.
“Georgiana knows of the business, Bingley,” said Darcy. “There is no need for circumspection, though we are, of course, keeping the truth from the village.”
“Good,” said Bingley with a decisive nod. “Then Miss Lydia is settled, and you have dealt with Wickham?”
“The latter, yes,” said Darcy. “Wickham is even now experiencing the consequences of deserting in a time of war. Fitzwilliam and I will deal with whatever is left of him after his superiors have had their pound of flesh. As for the former, the situation was not so dire as we had been led to believe.”
“Wonderful, Darcy,” said Bingley, his mind not on the subject. “Can I suppose that you mean to visit Longbourn today?”
“Within half an hour,” agreed Darcy, not surprised Bingley would wish to visit at once.
“Then I shall return to my chambers to refresh myself. I shall return within half an hour.”
As he watched Bingley climb the stairs, Darcy wondered what he was about. Beside him, Georgiana appeared beset by the same confusion.
“Seeing Bingley eager to go to Longbourn is not a surprise,” said Darcy when she queried him on the subject. “There is something about his eagerness that I cannot quite name.”
“Miss Bennet will be pleased to see him.”
“That she will be,” said Darcy, now understanding what he had missed all those months.
Bingley descended, punctual to his time, and they set off within a few moments.
As they traveled, Darcy noticed his friend peering out the window, distracted, though not by fields of waving grain almost ready to harvest or glorious sunshine on a fine late summer day.
Curious, Darcy tried to draw a little information from him.
“Your appearance this morning was quite a surprise, Bingley.” His friend turned to him, his expression revealing nothing. “If you were close enough to arrive this early, you may have pressed on last night.”
For a moment, Bingley hesitated, such that Darcy was uncertain if he would respond. Then Bingley offered an exaggerated shrug and turned back to the window.
“There were some very good reasons to arrive today.”
Curious did not even begin to describe Darcy’s state, though it appeared that asking his friend was a lost cause.
There were several reasons Darcy could think of that his friend might prefer to arrive that day rather than the previous evening.
He might not have wanted to endure an evening at Netherfield, knowing his lady was only three miles away, or he may have planned something, though Darcy could not fathom what it was.
Either way, Bingley would reveal it at the time of his choosing, it seemed; further questions would reveal nothing.
The arrival at Longbourn proceeded much as Darcy might have expected.
“Mr. Bingley!” cried the mistress, surprised and delighted to see him. “You are most welcome, sir—we had no word of your arrival.”
If Bingley flicked even the slightest glance at Mrs. Bennet, Darcy would have been surprised to learn of it.
Instead, his gaze appeared fixed on Miss Bennet, her rosy cheeks telling the story of the effect of his scrutiny.
And then Bingley did something that when Darcy reflected on it later, he knew he should have expected.
“Miss Bennet,” said he into a brief silence when Mrs. Bennet paused to draw breath, “would you walk with me on the back lawn for a time?”
Silence fell in the wake of Bingley’s question.
Mrs. Bennet appeared to have lost her tongue, an interesting development for a woman who rarely lacked something to say.
The younger girls watched and whispered, Miss Elizabeth watched and grinned, and even Mr. Bennet appeared to have a knowing air about him.
Had Darcy not known Bingley’s character, he might have understood if Mr. Bennet wished to make the returned suitor wait upon his good opinion.
As it was, Darcy watched Mr. Bennet and understood the man’s decision to allow his daughter to take the lead.
“Of course, Mr. Bingley,” said Miss Bennet, her imperturbable composure like a parasol protecting her from the sun. “I should be happy to walk with you.
“MR. BINGLEY HAS OUTDONE himself, Mr. Darcy.”
The gentleman’s eyes found her and softened as they always did. Elizabeth might have found herself lost in his gaze if a witticism about Mr. Bingley had not been poised on the tip of her tongue.
“You are thinking about that morning at Netherfield, are you not?’
Elizabeth was unable to stop the grin that tugged at her lips. “Just what I was thinking. This, however, is precipitous, even for him.”
Mr. Darcy nodded, but his eyes drifted again to Mr. Bingley and Jane, appearing contemplative. “Though I agree, I suspect there is more deliberation in Bingley’s behavior than simple spontaneity.”
“Please explain,” said Elizabeth, though she suspected she already knew.
“His arrival this morning, for one,” replied Mr. Darcy.
“As I told Bingley, if he was close enough to Netherfield to arrive this morning before visiting hours, he could have pushed through and arrived last night. When I mentioned that to him, he said there were good reasons for his arrival this morning.”
“Such as using his solitude to plan his approach today,” said Elizabeth, laughing with delight.
“I attributed it to his not wishing to endure three miles’ distance from your sister for an entire night. Yet I suspect you have the right of it.”
“So he is still impulsive, but the approach is measured.”
“Well,” drawled Mr. Darcy, “it is a novel approach, is it not? Bingley has not seen your sister for nine months—for him to propose within minutes of returning to her side is the very definition of impulsive, is it not?”
“I shall not say you are incorrect.”
“Has he said anything about his sister or the journey to the north?”
“Nothing at all,” replied Mr. Darcy. “To own the truth, I expect there is little enough to tell. Miss Bingley is displeased, Bingley considered it a duty, and he is more than happy to return to Netherfield.”
A sound caught Elizabeth’s attention, and she looked up to see Jane approaching them. Of Mr. Bingley, there was no sign.
“Jane!” Elizabeth exclaimed, catching her sister in a tight embrace, noting Jane’s inability to speak.
“It seems my friend has worked with remarkable speed,” said Mr. Darcy, dry as Mr. Collins’s attempts at lovemaking.
Jane, who had spoken to Mr. Darcy after his arrival, regarded him through eyes filled with happiness. “Mr. Bingley told me that he had delayed it once already and had no intention of doing so again.”
“Yes, that is Bingley without a doubt.” Mr. Darcy bowed, offering Jane a winsome smile. “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you, Miss Bennet. Might I assume that Bingley has already gone to your father?”
“He has,” said Jane.
“Then we should probably go inside—your father will go there when he has finished tormenting my friend.”
Jane appeared worried, but Elizabeth just laughed. “Come, Jane, you know our father. Papa will feel it is his duty to sport with a man suing for the hand of his most angelic daughter.”
“Especially since he was denied the pleasure when I applied for your hand, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy. The man was impossibly self-satisfied.
“Let us go inside,” said Jane, tugging at Elizabeth’s hand. “I should not wish to provoke our father to tease me—you know he would relish the opportunity to wax eloquent if he had to send for someone to find me.”
“You understand our father well, Jane,” said Elizabeth. “Papa would tease Mr. Bingley about your sudden reluctance.”
“Then by all means, let us render such jesting unnecessary,” said Mr. Darcy. “In his current state, my friend might just fly apart under such pressure.”
Jane threw the gentleman a mock glare. “Take care, Mr. Darcy. You are describing my future husband.”
“Perhaps I am, Miss Bennet. But remember that I have known him for much longer than you have; as a result, I have greater license to sport with him.”
It was no shock when Jane did not respond. Though her sister had as much ability to jest and tease, she did not often indulge. As her focus was on her happiness, she had little attention for teasing.
When they entered the sitting-room, Elizabeth saw her mother’s consternation at Mr. Bingley’s absence.
“Jane!” cried she, almost a shriek. “Where is Mr. Bingley?”
Though Elizabeth had some notion of lamenting his departure, she could not do something so cruel to her mother. Jane, however, was not inclined to inform her of what had happened.
“Mr. Bingley had an errand to perform, Mama. He will be along in a moment.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “An errand? Has he gone to Meryton?”
“No, Mama,” replied Jane, unperturbed. “Do not concern yourself; Mr. Bingley will be along in a few moments.”
If Elizabeth were to guess, she suspected that Jane was not more forthcoming because she wished to avoid her mother’s paroxysms for a few more minutes.
Elizabeth could understand the sentiment.
Though Mrs. Bennet continued to stare at her eldest, befuddled, Elizabeth drew Mr. Darcy to a nearby sofa while Jane sat close to her mother, answering a few more appeals with an insufficient measure of clarity, such that Mrs. Bennet desisted a short time later, frustrated.
By contrast, the younger girls were whispering and glancing around the room to the extent that Elizabeth suspected they had made a few educated guesses.