CHAPTER EIGHT #2
She appraised him from head to toe and seemed a little pensive. “You ought to dry yourself here before venturing back into the deluge.”
“Your reasoning eludes me. How am I benefitted by being dry before I become wet again?”
“Perhaps that was my awkward attempt to get you to stay for supper.”
If she had demanded he stay for supper—and he had expected her to be forthcoming with such a request for he had never known Abby to be demure—he would have done it. Abby always brimmed with élan, but this evening he sensed an edge to her verve.
“If that is your invitation, I accept,” he said.
“Wonderful! Mr. Singh can prepare a room for you in the West Wing.”
He raised his brows. On all past occasions, he had always had the same room in the East Wing.
She waved a dismissive hand. “Nicholas is here.”
It was an adequate but not entirely convincing pretext, but as he had never been partial to the company of Nicholas Trenwith, he made no objections.
Mrs. Singh entered with a tray of tea and coffee. Abby prepared his coffee as she knew he preferred it, with a modicum of milk and no sugar.
“I thought Colonel Fitzwilliam was to come as well,” she remarked, handing him his coffee.
“He had another matter to attend. We were to travel to Rosings together to-morrow, but I will meet him at the nearest posting inn instead.”
She eyed him keenly, and the cup of coffee he held afforded him no place to hide. “And what urgency compelled you to ride out on your own such that you could not wait a day for your cousin?”
He sipped his coffee. A part of him wanted to divulge the entire truth to her, but he had come here to forget about Miss Elizabeth Bennet, not perpetuate her memory by speaking of her.
“Pray, do not insult me by flattering me that you could hardly wait to be in my company,” she warned.
“I felt myself restless,” he admitted, “and will not tire you with the details at this time.”
She knew him well enough not to goad him when he was not in the mood and obliged him by making more mundane conversation. “How is Georgiana?”
“In good health and spirits. I am having a new pianoforte delivered to Pemberley. I am told the quality of sound is extraordinary and the keys particularly sensitive to the touch.”
“I’m sure she will be quite delighted. And how is your friend, Charles Bingley? When does he return to Netherfield?”
Darcy stiffened. “I do not think he will return.”
“What? Had he not just leased the property recently?”
“He did.”
“Does Hertfordshire not agree with him?”
“There were circumstances there that…his sisters and I believe he is better situated elsewhere.”
She stared at him, and he knew his cryptic answer did not satisfy her, but, again, she refrained from pressing; nonetheless, Abby did not forget small details and could often find a way to unearth the information she sought before one was even aware that anything had been divulged.
“I will have Mrs. Singh bring supper to your room. If you are not expected at Rosings till the morrow, you ought to stay the night here. Pierre can serve as your valet.”
He breathed in relief, for he had hoped she would extend just such an invitation. “If it is not too much an imposition—”
“Darcy, you are never an imposition. Quite the contrary. Your arrival is most timely.”
She took in a deep breath, and he wondered if she was unsure of herself. He had never known Abby to be uncertain.
“I have as a guest a young woman in need of an introduction. Of all those who have served as instructor, I have determined your manners to be the most tender and most suitable to her na?veté.”
Though she had never before been reticent to address him, she refrained from looking at him directly.
He hesitated. “It has been some time since…”
She smiled to reassure him. “You were far too good a student to forget your art.”
“Nonetheless, I am out of practice.”
“She will not know it. She is new to the wicked arts. You spoke of being restless. Perhaps a lesson would calm whatever ails you.”
He weighed her words. The responsibility—and pleasure—of awakening a woman to the capabilities of her own body would surely divert his attention from Miss Elizabeth.
Abby waited in silence for his response, and he knew then there was no refusing her.
She would wait an eternity without word lest he gave her the answer she wanted.
“I should be honoured.”
“Her family is of a good sort, I believe. In all honesty, I know very little of her or her background, but I am quite taken by her. Her decision to seek an education caught me by surprise, and I wonder that she may suffer buyer’s remorse at any time. We must take every care to guard her identity.”
He almost protested the need for such reminders for he had never been indiscreet.
“I have formed quite a fondness for her and wish her to have the best experience possible.”
“I will endeavour to do my best.”
Abby beamed. “Of course you will, and I trust you above anyone.”
“I doubt I merit such a compliment.”
Her eyes gleamed. “I can say unequivocally you were my best student.”
“And I am forever indebted to you that you were willing to take on the mantle of teacher with me.”
“The pleasure was mine.”
Their exchange thereafter was the warm and easy affection he remembered till Mr. Singh came to inform them that the guestroom was ready. After Abby promised to join him for supper, they parted ways.
In his room, while Pierre assisted him from his riding clothes, Darcy reconsidered his decision not to share the events at Hertfordshire with Abby.
His conscience weighed on him. It was his persistent persuasion, as well as the efforts of Bingley’s sisters, Caroline and Louisa, that had compelled Charles to quit Netherfield.
While in London, Miss Jane Bennet had called upon Miss Bingley.
Between him and Caroline, they had kept the knowledge of Miss Bennet’s presence to themselves.
He was not pleased with his duplicity in not informing Charles, and as if by way of punishing himself, he did not pass a single day without thinking of Miss Elizabeth.
After she had refused his hand in dance at the Lucas assembly, he had considered it just as well that she took no interest in him.
Perhaps her response would cool his own.
But shortly thereafter, Nature and the Bennets had, unknowingly, conspired otherwise.
After the Lucas ball, at the request of her brother, Caroline had invited Miss Bennet to dine with her and Louisa at Netherfield.
Despite the dreary weather, Jane had arrived on horseback rather than by carriage.
Darcy had thought it rather suspect and would not have been surprised if Mrs. Bennet had sent her daughter through the rain on purpose.
As a consequence, intended or not, Miss Bennet had fallen ill and was obliged to remain at Netherfield.
But Darcy could not be vexed with the situation for the following morning brought Miss Elizabeth to Netherfield to inquire after her sister.
He remembered the surprise her appearance, with her dirty stockings and her face glowing from the warmth of exercise, had engendered among those gathered in the breakfast-parlor.
That she should have walked three miles so early in the day, in such dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Louisa and Caroline.
They could not hide all their contempt but received her politely.
Bingley was good humour and kindness. Darcy said little, being divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion and doubt as to the occasion's justifying her coming so far alone.
Her inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered.
Miss Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and not well enough to leave her room.
Miss Elizabeth seemed glad to be taken to her immediately.
The apothecary came and pronounced his patient to suffer from a violent cold.
Miss Elizabeth stayed by her sister’s side for the day, and when it seemed her departure would cause Miss Bennet much concern, Bingley was obliged to convert his offer of his chaise to an invitation to remain at Netherfield for the present.
Dinner with Miss Elizabeth had passed with some awkwardness.
Bingley, quite anxious for Miss Bennet’s health, bestowed his attentions upon her most amply.
Caroline and Louisa said but a few words to her; and Mr. Hurst, Louisa’s husband, an indolent man, who lived only to eat, drink, and play at cards, had nothing to say to her when he found her to prefer a plain dish to a ragout.
When dinner was over, Miss Elizabeth returned directly to her sister, and Caroline began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence. She had no conversation, no style, no beauty.
Louisa thought the same, and added, "She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild.”
"She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!"
"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office."
"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," said Bingley; "but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."
"You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley; "and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition."
"Certainly not," he said.