Chapter 6 #2
Toby turned back. “Then we can help you.”
Darcy raised a brow. “Can you?”
“Yes,” Thomas said. “We can.”
“How?”
The answer came with evident satisfaction.
“Miss Bingley has written to Jane and Lizzy,” Toby said. “They are to dine at Netherfield this evening.”
Darcy’s expression changed.
“They are?”
“Yes,” Thomas confirmed. “Mama told them at breakfast.”
“And they are to come in the carriage,” Toby added. “Because of the rain.”
Darcy frowned slightly.
“I was not aware Miss Bingley intended to receive guests this evening.”
Thomas shrugged. “She does.”
“Or she pretends she does,” Toby said.
Darcy narrowed his eyes at them.
“Pretends?”
The boys exchanged another glance.
“She will ask questions,” Thomas said.
“Many questions,” Toby agreed.
“About everything,” Thomas continued. “About Jane. About Lizzy. About everything they say.”
Darcy’s mouth settled into a firm line.
“That would not surprise me.”
Toby leaned forward slightly. “But this is perfect.”
Darcy folded his arms. “Is it?”
“Yes,” Thomas said. “You must apologize.”
“Tonight,” Toby added.
“You must not waste this chance.”
Darcy considered.
The situation evolved quickly in his mind.
Miss Bingley, with Jane and Elizabeth Bennet under her roof.
Bingley absent.
Himself absent.
Or—
Darcy appraised the boys.
“You are certain of this invitation?”
“Yes,” Thomas said.
“We heard Mama say so,” Toby added.
Darcy drew a breath.
“This alters matters.”
“It improves them,” Toby corrected.
Thomas nodded. “Very much.”
Darcy allowed a small pause.
“You have a great deal of confidence in my ability to make use of it.”
“You must have confidence,” Toby said.
“Or we shall not forgive you,” Thomas added.
Darcy’s expression shifted, though only slightly.
“I begin to understand the terms of your forgiveness are not easily satisfied.”
“They are very fair,” Toby said.
“You only need to apologize properly,” Thomas added.
Darcy bowed his head. “Then I shall do so.”
Both boys watched him closely.
“You promise?” Toby asked.
“I do.”
Thomas studied his face. “You will not fail again?”
Darcy met his gaze.
“I will not.”
The answer appeared to satisfy them.
Toby stepped back. “Good.”
Thomas nodded. “Then we shall permit it.”
Darcy almost smiled.
“Your approval is most valuable.”
“It is,” Toby said.
“We must go,” Thomas added. “Lessons.”
“Miss Porter will notice,” Toby said.
“And she will tell Mama,” Thomas continued.
“And then we shall be in trouble.”
Darcy inclined his head. “Then you had best make haste.”
They turned together.
“Remember,” Toby called over his shoulder, “tonight.”
“Do not waste the opportunity,” Thomas added.
They ran down the slope, their figures quickly diminishing against the landscape.
Darcy remained where he was for a time.
The implications settled in his mind.
Miss Bingley’s intentions were plain enough. She would never have invited the Bennet sisters without a purpose. Questions would be asked, observations made, and conclusions drawn.
He knew her habits.
She would probe, flatter, diminish, and compare, all while preserving an appearance of civility that concealed more than it disclosed.
Elizabeth Bennet would certainly attract her notice.
And with notice would come judgment.
Darcy’s jaw tightened.
The situation required adjustment.
He mounted his horse.
If Bingley knew of the invitation—
Darcy’s thoughts quickened.
Bingley would eagerly attend such a dinner. His regard for Jane Bennet had become evident to anyone who observed him. The prospect of leaving her in Miss Bingley’s exclusive company would suit him very poorly indeed.
The engagement with the officers—
It might be shortened.
Or postponed.
Darcy turned his horse toward Netherfield.
The ride back was taken at a faster pace than the one that had brought him out. The ground, though softened by rain, held well enough, and the distance passed quickly under a steady rhythm.
Netherfield came into view sooner than expected.
Darcy dismounted before the servant could reach him, handing off the reins with a brief word before entering the house.
He found Bingley in the morning room, papers spread before him, his attention divided between accounts and speculation.
“Darcy,” Bingley said, looking up, “you have returned quickly.”
“There is something you should know.”
Bingley set aside his papers. “What is it?”
“Miss Bingley has invited the Bennet sisters to dine this evening.”
Bingley’s expression changed.
“Has she?”
“So, I am informed.”
“Why was I not told?”
Darcy allowed a slight pause. “It appears the invitation was extended without consultation.”
Bingley’s brows drew together, though not in anger.
“Well—” he began, then stopped.
A moment passed.
“Miss Bennet will be here,” he said, as though confirming it aloud.
“Yes.”
Bingley rose.
“And we are to dine with the officers.”
“That was the plan.”
Bingley crossed the room, then turned back.
“We cannot leave them here alone.”
Darcy said nothing.
Bingley continued, more firmly now, “It would not be right.”
“No.”
Bingley’s expression brightened again, though with a different kind of energy.
“We shall go,” he said. “We must. But we need not remain long.”
Darcy gave a slight nod. “That would be a reasonable compromise.”
“Yes,” Bingley said. “We shall dine, pay our respects, and return.”
“Promptly.”
“As promptly as may be managed without giving offense.”
Darcy allowed the suggestion of agreement.
“That should suffice.”
Bingley resumed his seat, though his attention had shifted from the papers before him.
“I am glad you told me,” he said.
“It seemed necessary.”
“Very.”
Darcy stood a moment longer, then gave another nod before withdrawing.
The plan, such as it was, had taken shape.
It was not perfect.
But it would serve.
The opportunity remained.
That was enough.
Later that evening, as they prepared to depart for their engagement, Bingley spoke again.
“We shall not linger,” he said, adjusting his gloves.
“No,” Darcy replied.
Mr. Hurst, already prepared, made no comment.
The carriage waited.
Darcy took his place within it, his thoughts fixed upon what lay ahead rather than what lay before him.
If they returned in time—
If Miss Elizabeth remained—
If Miss Bingley did not interfere—
The conditions multiplied.
Darcy set them aside.
The task was simple.
Apologize.
Properly.
Without interruption.
Without failure.
He thought of Thomas and Toby.
Of their expressions.
Of their certainty.
They would expect success.
And if he failed again—
Darcy turned his attention to the passing landscape as the carriage began to move.
He had no desire to discover how two determined boys might enforce their displeasure.
Nor did he intend to give them cause.
The carriage set out at the appointed hour, the sky still uncertain but with no immediate sign of rain.
Mrs. Bennet had insisted upon its use, and though Elizabeth would otherwise have preferred to walk, she raised no objection.
Jane sat beside her in her usual composure, a quiet anticipation in her expression that reflected her temperament as much as any particular expectation for the evening.
The road to Netherfield was well known to them.
The fields on either side displayed the colors of the season, the lingering warmth of recent days preserving more life than one might have expected.
The air, however, carried a heaviness suggesting that the weather’s present restraint might prove temporary.
They had gone only a short distance when the carriage lurched.
The motion was abrupt enough to send Jane’s hand to the side as her balance was momentarily disturbed. Elizabeth steadied herself and turned toward her sister as the carriage rolled to a halt.
A moment passed.
Then the door opened, and the footman appeared, his expression troubled.
“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth—there has been a difficulty.”
“What sort of difficulty?” Elizabeth asked.
“There is a crack in the axle, ma’am. A considerable one.”
Elizabeth frowned slightly. “A crack? Was the carriage not thoroughly sound when we set out?”
“It was, ma’am. I examined it myself when the horses were harnessed.”
Jane leaned forward. “Is it safe to continue?”
“I fear it is not, ma’am. The axle would not bear the weight.”
Elizabeth glanced toward the road ahead and then back to the servant. “How far are we from Netherfield?”
“Less than half a mile, ma’am.”
Jane met her gaze. “We may walk the rest with ease.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Certainly. There is little reason to wait for assistance when we are so near.”
The footman hesitated. “I could return for help—”
“And leave us here?” Elizabeth said, with perfect good humor. “No. We shall proceed. You may attend to the carriage.”
Jane had already gathered her cloak.
Elizabeth followed, stepping down onto the road. The ground, though damp in places, remained sufficiently firm beneath their feet. Overhead, the clouds had drawn closer, and the light was dimmer than when they had departed.
They commenced their journey without delay.
The distance, as the footman had said, was short. The path curved gently between hedgerows that would offer little protection should the weather finally break.
Jane walked steadily, though a faint flush had risen on her face.
“You are not becoming overheated?” Elizabeth asked.
“Only a little. The air is close.”
Elizabeth glanced upward.
“It will rain.”
Jane smiled slightly. “It appears likely.”
They continued.
The first drops fell just as the house came into view.
They were light at first, scarcely more than a warning. Then, without further ceremony, the rain came in earnest.
Elizabeth drew her cloak more closely about her, though the effort was of little use. The water fell steadily, soaking through fabric and hair alike.
Jane laughed once, the sound brief and surprised.
“We must run.”
They did.
The remaining distance passed quickly, though not comfortably. By the time they reached the door, their cloaks were heavy with water, their gowns damp beyond recovery, their hair no longer arranged with any precision.
The door opened. A servant ushered them inside, his surprise evident though well contained.