Chapter XXVIII
When Darcy reflected upon the evening, he realised that it was not the Bennets themselves who had surprised him. Nevertheless, it was fascinating to watch them among themselves.
He had seen them at assemblies, at Netherfield.
He had seen Mrs. Bennet in transports of excitement, Mr. Bennet retreating behind irony, Lydia laughing too loudly, Miss Kitty, well, had scarcely left an impression upon him at all, nor had Miss Mary, unless that Miss Mary played the piano forte rather ill.
But within the walls of Longbourn, something altered. Or perhaps nothing altered at all. Perhaps this was simply who they had always been.
The family reunion was noisy and chaotic, but also a display of true affection. Mr. Bennet tried a dry comment, but Darcy could tell he was affected just as well. Mrs. Bennet had no will of pretence. She cried and scolded at the same time, all the way hanging on to her wayward daughter.
Conversation wandered wherever it pleased.
One sister interrupted another without offence being taken.
Mr. Bennet delivered observations which made Miss Bennet smile despite herself and caused Miss Elizabeth to laugh aloud.
Mrs. Bennet complained of her nerves only to forget them entirely moments later when Lydia began recounting some harmless adventure from childhood.
Even Miss Mary joined the conversation more naturally than Darcy had ever witnessed before.
Yes, there was disorder, there was noise, and there was affection. It was unlike anything he had known growing up at Pemberley.
His thoughts turned naturally towards Georgiana. He had watched her throughout the day and the evening with quiet satisfaction. He wondered, not for the first time, whether she had been lonelier at Pemberley than either of them had ever admitted.
Her natural shyness gave way to ease rather smoothly and quickly.
Mrs. Bennet, after hearing what the Darcys had done for her daughter, seemed to accept them almost as members of her own family.
This was nowhere more evident than in the way she embraced Georgiana.
She first did not know how to return the outflow of affection, but very soon he saw that Georgiana no longer hovered at the edge of conversation, waiting for permission to speak.
Kitty had drawn her into one discussion, Mary into another, while Lydia, with characteristic decisiveness, simply assumed Georgiana wished to accompany her wherever she dragged her.
The remarkable thing was that Georgiana appeared perfectly content to do so.
No ceremony had attended her acceptance. The Bennet sisters had simply made room.
Darcy had caught sight of Elizabeth once, watching Georgiana laugh with Lydia. She had smiled without saying a word.
His thoughts darkened only once during the evening. Jane Bennet. He had deliberately sought her company. Not because he particularly wished to speak, but because someone ought to have done so.
The previous evening, he had written a short note to Bingley that the next day would be an excellent day to visit Longbourn. Yet his friend did not appear in the morning. He postponed thinking about his friend for another day.
Miss Bennet, as always, received him with unaffected kindness.
For a moment, his old thought prevailed about her detachment, but then, remembering Elizabeth’s observation that Jane’s reserve was often mistaken for indifference, Darcy ventured to speak of Bingley himself.
He did so as evenly as he could, yet left the conversation dissatisfied. Bingley ought to have been there.
Later, when the ladies withdrew after dinner, Mr. Bennet looked over the rim of his wine glass. “Come, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy followed him.
“I suppose you ought to see the room everyone appears so determined that I should abandon.”
There was no bitterness in the remark. Only dry amusement.
The book room proved very much what Elizabeth had led him to expect.
Books occupied every available wall.
Additional volumes rested upon tables, chairs, and even the window seat.
Newspapers lay folded beside journals half-read.
A comfortable armchair stood before the fireplace with another smaller table beside it, carrying an assortment of spectacles, letters, and bookmarks whose purpose only their owner could possibly have understood.
The room possessed none of the formal elegance of Pemberley’s library. It possessed something else. It had clearly been lived in.
Mr. Bennet looked around with unconcealed satisfaction.
“I daresay this is not high fashion.”
“No.”
“But I know where everything is.”
Darcy smiled. “I have no difficulty believing it.”
Mr. Bennet ran a hand affectionately along the back of his chair. “My wife believes I spend far too much time in here.”
“I imagine she is correct.”
“Undoubtedly.”
The admission surprised them both.
For a while they examined several shelves together.
Mr. Bennet spoke animatedly of one history, dismissed another as intolerably dull, praised an obscure volume Darcy had never encountered, and confessed that half the books had probably not been opened in twenty years.
Only after some time did Darcy return to the matter occupying both their minds. “Mr. Bennet.”
He turned.
“I hope you understand that I spoke seriously.”
Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrow.
“The house at Ramsgate is entirely at your disposal.”
Mr. Bennet studied him.
“I do not offer it merely for a few weeks’ convenience.” Darcy met his gaze steadily. “If your family remains there for a month, I shall be content. If for a year, equally content. If longer…” He paused almost imperceptibly. “Then longer.”
Silence settled between them.
At length, Mr. Bennet spoke. “That is an extraordinary offer.”
“I believe the circumstances are extraordinary.”
Mr. Bennet looked slowly around the room.
“You understand what you are asking.”
“I believe I do.”
“I should be leaving this.”
“For the sake of your family. But you can take whatever you wish with you. There is plenty of space even if there is already a full library.”
Mr. Bennet laughed. “A dangerous argument.”
“I have been told I ought not to attempt persuading you.”
“Wise advice.”
“I therefore do not.”
Mr. Bennet regarded him for another moment before giving a thoughtful nod. “No. You merely make it exceedingly difficult to discover why I ought not accept.”
They spoke a little longer – not of persuasion, but of practicalities. The distance. The estate. The servants. The house itself.
Nothing was decided. Yet when they finally left the room, Darcy thought that Mr. Bennet’s resistance no longer appeared quite so immovable.
Music drifted towards him from the drawing room. To his surprise, Georgiana was sitting at the pianoforte.
They next listened while Lydia, with unexpected seriousness, recited a poem she studied with Mrs. Annesley. Even Mr. Bennet forgot himself sufficiently to praise her.
Elizabeth then took her place at the pianoforte. Someone had prevailed upon her to sing as well.
The first notes floated gently toward him. He remained where he was.
There would be Ramsgate tomorrow. There would be Bingley tomorrow. There would be decisions enough tomorrow. For this one quiet evening, there was only Elizabeth’s voice. Sweet, and touched with the slightest huskiness, he noticed.
And for the first time in many weeks, Fitzwilliam Darcy allowed himself to believe that the future he had dared imagine at Lambton might yet become their own.
***
The following morning passed with a cheerfulness that would have seemed impossible only a fortnight earlier.
Breakfast at Longbourn was, as Darcy had already discovered, a lively affair.
Mrs. Bennet insisted that everyone take a second helping whether they wished it or not.
Lydia spoke so quickly that Miss Kitty was obliged to remind her twice to breathe.
Mr. Bennet escaped behind his newspaper only to lower it every few moments and contribute some dry observation which inevitably set Miss Elizabeth laughing.
Darcy found himself wondering, not without amusement, how this family had ever managed to keep a civil tongue in silence.
Georgiana must have eaten twice as much as she used to, with the biggest smile on her face. He himself could not refuse the third pastry offered by Miss Elizabeth with the biggest praise.
When breakfast was over, the household dispersed with surprising efficiency.
Lydia declared that she required “only half the house,” while Elizabeth assured everyone that between them they should endeavour to reduce that estimate. “I shall rescue her from herself,” Elizabeth promised.
“I object to the expression,” Lydia replied. “I am perfectly capable of rescuing myself.”
“No one doubts it,” said Mr. Bennet. “Our concern is for the furniture.”
Their laughter followed the sisters from the room.
Darcy himself rose to leave.
“I shall leave you to your campaign,” he said. “I have one or two matters of business to attend to in town.”
Mr. Bennet looked up.
“In Meryton? I thought today was devoted to transporting daughters.”
“It shall be,” Darcy replied. “But Meryton offers certain opportunities which London does not.”
“What opportunities?”
Darcy sat back with deliberate care. “I intend to purchase Mr. Wickham’s outstanding debts.”
Silence descended with remarkable speed.
Mrs. Bennet stared. Mr. Bennet slowly lowered his newspaper. Elizabeth, halfway to the door, turned back. “You mean...”
“I mean every legitimate debt I can discover.”
Mr. Bennet regarded him curiously. “And when you have acquired them?”
“Then Mr. Wickham will owe me.”
No one spoke.
At last Mr. Bennet asked quietly, “May I enquire why?”
Darcy’s expression altered very little.
“Because Miss Elizabeth once remarked that several tradesmen in Meryton had been cheated.”
Elizabeth remembered the conversation immediately. “I did.”
“I have been thinking about it ever since.”
Lydia frowned. “Those poor people…”
“Not if I purchase the debts.”
Understanding dawned slowly across the room.