Chapter IX #2
“Well, Darcy,” cried Bingley, “I declare your household has risen today with military precision. Mrs. Reynolds looked at me half an hour ago as though the fate of England depended upon the rug I stepped upon.”
Darcy almost smiled. “Pemberley survives such dangers yearly.”
“Perhaps. But never before under such interesting circumstances.”
Miss Bingley entered at that moment with Mrs. Hurst upon her arm.
“Pray do not begin discussing your interesting circumstances before I have coffee,” said she languidly. “I find country suspense excessively fatiguing.”
Darcy drew out Georgiana’s chair before seating himself opposite her.
Conversation during the first part of breakfast remained general, but as the expected visit could not long remain unmentioned, Bingley soon returned to it eagerly.
“I still cannot forgive you for meeting Miss Elizabeth yesterday without summoning me,” said he. “Had our situations been reversed, I should have sent for you. After all, you did dance with her, and that, my friend, is an achievement not many can boast.”
Darcy’s expression altered slightly, though he was too entirely occupied by other thoughts for Caroline’s or Bingley’s insinuation to produce its usual effect.
“What are you saying, Charles? Mr. Darcy has danced with many. And he dances with me, always.”
Darcy suppressed an expression of impatience. Miss Bingley’s vanity, tolerable at other times, was particularly unwelcome when connected – even indirectly – with Elizabeth. She could not be mentioned on the same day as Miss Elizabeth, he thought to himself in indignation.
Georgiana looked up with gentle curiosity. “Mr Bingley, you have mentioned, I presume, her sister, Miss Jane Bennet?”
“Yes,” said Bingley readily. “Miss Jane Bennet. The handsomest and sweetest-tempered woman in England – though her sister would never allow me to say so in her hearing.”
Miss Bingley stirred her coffee with unnecessary exactness.
“Miss Eliza is one of five sisters, is she not? A circumstance which must make domestic arrangements particularly lively.” She took a sip.
“It is too bad there is not one male amongst them. And I believe their estate is entailed upon a clergyman cousin whom Mr. Bingley once described in terms too charitable to repeat.”
Georgiana smiled faintly. “Oh.”
“Four, yes,” answered Bingley cheerfully as if nothing had been said. “Though Miss Elizabeth and Miss Jane are the eldest.”
Darcy, unwilling to hear the conversation carried further by Miss Bingley’s interference, turned instead towards practical arrangements.
“I had thought,” he said, addressing Bingley and Hurst, “that Mr. Gardiner might enjoy trying the river this morning before dinner, if the weather remains favourable.”
Mr. Hurst looked more interested than he had at any previous point in the morning. “The river?” said he.
“Yes. Mr Gardiner expressed particular admiration for it yesterday. I believe he fishes a good deal. I thought you two could join him.”
“Excellent!” cried Bingley. “We shall accompany him, of course.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I imagined you might wish it.”
Miss Bingley looked up quickly. “And what is to become of the rest of us while the gentlemen disappear in pursuit of trout?”
“Georgiana has kindly offered to attend the ladies during a picnic,” said Darcy.
Georgiana looked momentarily surprised at being thus committed but assented with sweetness.
“Of course, we could settle under my tree. That is close enough to the water. I shall talk to Mrs. Reynolds to have the reclining chairs brought there with pillows and blankets.”
Darcy’s voice remained composed as he thanked his sister. “I had thought of showing the house and gardens to Miss Elizabeth, as Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner have already seen much of them, but Miss Elizabeth has not.”
Mrs. Gardiner, having seen much of the house already, might perhaps prefer repose after the walk through the grounds.
Georgiana’s presence would naturally engage Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. There might – at least for some short interval – arise an opportunity of speaking with Elizabeth more freely than circumstance had yet allowed.
The possibility alone was enough to unsettle all his composure afresh.
“I would not mind seeing the house with you as a guide,” said Miss Bingley lightly.
Darcy looked towards her with composed politeness.
“You already know Pemberley exceedingly well, Miss Bingley. I believe my sister had hoped you would remain with her.”
Miss Bingley smiled with studied ease. “Surely Georgiana will not suffer from my absence for half an hour.”
“On the contrary,” said Darcy quietly, “Georgiana seldom enjoys showing the house to strangers, and I think she would feel more comfortable supported by those already known to her.”
Georgiana, who understood her brother’s meaning, looked up with mild surprise and gratitude.
“Indeed, Caroline,” said Bingley cheerfully, before his sister could answer, “you must not desert poor Georgiana to Mrs. Gardiner entirely.”
Miss Bingley coloured slightly, though she laughed.
“You all seem determined to make me useful.”
“An employment,” replied Darcy with calm gravity, “for which I think you particularly qualified.”
Breakfast lingered longer than usual. Even Miss Bingley’s impatience gradually softened beneath the general expectation surrounding the morning. Georgiana spoke little, though several times Darcy observed her glance unconsciously towards the drive below.
By eleven o’clock, servants had begun moving more frequently through the hall. The house itself seemed quietly alert in anticipation of visitors.
Darcy remained outwardly calm.
Only Georgiana, who knew him too well not to perceive every alteration in his manner, noticed that he had not once turned a page of the newspaper lying before him.
The delay occasioned little surprise. Country roads were uncertain, and the Gardiners had named no precise hour.
Still, Darcy found himself repeatedly listening for wheels upon the gravel.
Once, convinced he had heard a carriage approaching, he rose involuntarily and crossed halfway towards the window before realising the sound belonged only to a farm cart passing upon the lower road.
Bingley laughed good-humouredly. “Upon my word, Darcy, you are as restless as a man awaiting examination results.”
Darcy resumed his seat without answering.
Noon approached.
Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the atmosphere altered. Expectation became uncertainty; uncertainty unease.
Even Miss Bingley ceased attempting wit upon the subject.
By one o’clock, anxiety had begun to supersede disappointment.
Something was wrong.
The conviction came slowly, but once admitted, would not leave him.
Elizabeth had not seemed merely willing yesterday.
She had seemed happy.
He recalled her expression at parting with painful clarity. Her voice. Her smile. The openness – cautious still, but unmistakable – with which she had begun at last to meet his attentions.
No. She would not willingly fail them.
Darcy moved again towards the window. The drive below lay bright beneath the afternoon sun, perfectly still and empty. For some moments, he stood there without speaking.
Darcy continued looking towards the drive. “If they had merely been delayed, they would have…”
He stopped.
Then he turned away from the window at last.
“I think they are not coming.”
Darcy remained so still that even Bingley ceased speaking.
Georgiana looked up at him suddenly. Whatever she saw in his expression caused her smile to disappear. “Brother?”
Darcy did not answer.
At last, unwilling to remain any longer in uncertainty, Darcy rang for a servant. “Have the open carriage prepared.” The order surprised even himself by its immediacy.
If some accident had delayed them upon the road – if assistance were required – every moment spent in hesitation became intolerable.
Within minutes, he was mounted.
The carriage was directed to follow at a proper distance behind him, but Darcy himself, unable to endure the slower progress of the carriage, set out ahead on horseback towards Lambton.