Vol 1, Chapter 15 #2
Dinner that night was a boisterous affair with so many family members enjoying each other’s company.
To their delight, the two older Gardiner children had been invited to join the adults for dinner.
The two youngest had not been sanguine about being excluded, but a story from Cousin Lizzy diverted them so they soon forgot why they had been upset in the first place.
The Gardiner children loved stories from any of the cousins, parents, aunts, or uncles; however, if there were ever a choice, Elizabeth would be chosen.
Her reading was the most animated, and she made different voices for each character in the story.
As would be expected, there were many musical performances that night.
The highlight was the penultimate performance, when the three Bennet daughters sang together.
As usual, Elizabeth was asked to close the night, and she sang a Scottish folk song in the original Gaelic.
Whether one understood the language or not, there was no mistaking the quality of the singer’s voice.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
The two Darcys helped in the decoration of the manor and had fun doing so.
It had been many years since Darcy had felt so relaxed.
He was always more comfortable at Pemberley than anywhere else, but he had never felt quite like he did now.
The more he identified his objectionable behaviour and took steps to not repeat it, the more he found his spirits lifted.
Darcy’s uncle’s intelligence that he had misunderstood what his father meant by duty to his name had lifted a weight, he had not been aware he was carrying, off his shoulders.
Once he accepted the rectitude of his uncle’s words, Darcy was able to accept his mother’s charge to him those many years ago was what both his parents desired for him.
He finally understood his beliefs had been a non sequitur.
He had many amends to make, those he owed to the Bennets only the start.
Now that he was able to look at his actions through the eyes of others, he saw how the impression he had given in Hertfordshire had been so offensive, and if he were ever to be granted his heart’s desire of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, there would be much apologising and begging involved.
He would have to allow the lady to see all of him and the mask would have to be permanently banished.
When he looked back on his time at Netherfield, as he began to see his actions from other people’s perspective, he finally understood the cold reception he had received in the neighbourhood.
He belatedly realised they cared not a whit for his wealth or connections; he had been evaluated and found wanting by standards of decency.
Darcy had been blinded to the truth by nothing but his own pride and belief in the infallibility of his opinions.
Bingley had come to see Darcy later during the day that Uncle Reggie had torn into him—just before Darcy’s departure from Town. He had not been in a humour to deal with Bingley again, but when he saw the distress his friend was in, Darcy had relented.
Bingley had informed his friend of the eviction from Netherfield, and his intention to recoup the funds from his sister’s dowry.
Darcy applauded his friend’s decision, though in the back of his mind he doubted Bingley’s ability to resist his sister’s manipulation.
Once Bingley had vented and informed Darcy that he had told the Hursts and his sister to leave his townhouse, Darcy had been impressed.
Unfortunately, he had been proved correct though he wished it were not the case.
In Bingley’s last letter, from what he was able to decipher, his friend had told him he would only take half of the money from his sister, and they were all living at the Bingley town home again.
And there had been a not too subtle hint for an invitation for all of them to Pemberley near the end of the mess of a letter.
Unlike Bingley, when Darcy decided, he stuck to it.
As much as it was a shame, they were at cross purposes, and when Darcy examined the friendship, he saw the proverbial fork in the road which they had reached.
He was guardian to his sister; he did not need another ward, which Bingley was more of than a friend.
When he returned to London, he would break with Bingley.
It was not something he would do via the post—it would be face-to-face.
Darcy decided to put the unpleasant thoughts of the Bingley siblings out of his mind until he returned to London, a few weeks prior to his journey to Kent.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
“Charles, our invitation to Pemberley must have been lost in the post,” Miss Bingley insisted. “You know that our friend Mr. Darcy would never want us to be on our own at Christmastide, and it is just too far to Scarborough!”
Miss Bingley had known how it would be. Once her brother cooled down after the initial indignation of being evicted, she and Louisa had gone to work on him.
They had begged his pardon, though not meaning one word of it, but so long as he believed they did, all was well.
First, they had manipulated him into inviting them back to his much more comfortable town house than that of the Hursts’.
After a few days of words dripping with honey, Miss Bingley was exceedingly proud she had convinced her brother it was only fair they should split the cost of the loss from Netherfield; he was the master of the estate after all.
Her plan was to work on him, with Louisa’s help, so that, in the end, it would cost her nothing.
Her current machination was to convince her brother they should depart for Pemberley.
Once Mr. Darcy saw her superior self without the distraction of any Bennets, he would forget about his words and her attempted compromise and would finally offer for her.
“I do not know, Caro. I did not think there was any ambiguity in Darcy’s edict that he would not welcome you into any of his homes,” Bingley answered, less sure of himself than he was before; the backbone he discovered after the eviction seemed to melt away.
“Charles, when you were angry you sent us away, but when you calmed you welcomed us back, did you not?” Louisa assisted her sister.
“I suppose…” Bingley acknowledged haltingly.
“Louisa, I am of a mind about something. Do you not remember the other day that was so tedious with constant rain that a soaked missive was delivered?” Miss Bingley dissembled.
“Yes, sister, I do, how could we forget about that?” Mrs. Hurst aided the lie.
“You know, Charles, now that I think upon it, the writing did look like that of Mr. Darcy. I am sure that it was the Darcy seal. What would he think if you ignored an invitation from him?” Miss Bingley played on the fact her brother would hate to snub his closest friend.
“Truly? Why did you not mention it before?” Bingley asked.
“When we tried to dry it in front of the fire so we could open the letter, it fell out of my hands, and before I was able to retrieve it the fire had claimed it. I was embarrassed that I had been so clumsy with an obviously important communication that I put it out of my mind until we had this discussion.” Miss Bingley smiled internally; she knew she had just gotten her way, and she was not wrong.
“Then it must be so; we will leave on the morrow and arrive by Saturday, the day before Christmas Eve,” Bingley decided. The sisters left the drawing room to begin supervising their packing.
“Caro, what if Mr. Darcy will not receive us?” Mrs. Hurst asked when they were alone.
“He is too much of a gentleman not to, but if he does not, I will feign illness and he will have no choice!” Miss Bingley cackled.
The next morning, the Bingley carriage departed Curzon Street as early as they had planned. It was one of the rare occasions that Miss Bingley did not want to be late and make an entrance.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
The night before the Fitzwilliams travelled to Broadhurst, Lord Matlock and his wife decided to reveal the purchase, which would close as soon as the mourning period for the deceased master of Brookfield was completed; that would happen during the morrow’s journey.
The next morning a fresh topic was broached. “Richard, you know it has long concerned us that all of the Matlock estates are entailed, and we were not able to give you one to allow you an alternate profession than the army,” his father opened.
“Father, I am well aware that had you been able to do something, you would have,” Richard responded easily.
“We are now, my son,” Lady Elaine told her younger son.
“But how? As you just stated, the Matlock estates…” His father cut him off.