Chapter 27 #2
“It is not too late today for the confectioner’s.” Darcy raised a brow. “My sister would be very pleased.”
“I am certain that she would.” Elizabeth grinned. “Shall we ask her if she would like to go today? That is…if my father and stepmother allow me out of the house. They have kept us understandably close these last few days.”
“Mrs Bennet, I wonder if you would give your permission for Elizabeth to accompany Georgiana and me to the confectioner today,” Darcy directed his question to Charlotte. “It would be good for the young ladies to resume their usual activities.”
“How kind,” Charlotte looked to Mr Bennet, who made no objection. “If she goes in your carriage, with you and your footmen, I believe it will be safe enough.”
“May Lydia and Kitty join us?” Georgiana begged. “I would like to treat them, if I may.”
“Of course, with Mrs Bennet’s permission.” Darcy tilted his head.
“I do not see why all of the ladies should not go.” The Viscount returned to the drawing room, followed by his brother.
“My carriage returned this morning from London, and I am not without footmen. Anne and Priscilla may come with me, and Miss Jane and Miss Mary may accompany us, if they desire. Richard and I can escort the carriage on horseback.”
“Did you have any trouble with that Barry fellow?” Mr Bennet asked.
“Not at all.” The colonel grinned. “He and his sister left quite willingly.”
“I have no objection if Jane and Mary wish to go,” Charlotte said agreeably. “As Mr Darcy says, they have been too contained here, they should go out if they like.”
“I fear I cannot join you,” Anne objected, blushing. “I am expecting a caller of my own at Darcy Cottage. Prissy, do say you will remain behind with me.”
“Anne has a caller, eh? How interesting. Very well, it is you and Miss Mary, if you will join us, Miss Bennet.” The viscount grinned as his sister reassured her cousin that she had no objection to her request.
“Thank you, Lord Fitzwilliam, you are very kind.” Jane colored prettily. “That sounds very pleasant, does it not, Mary?”
“I shall leave you all to your pleasures while I return to Nethercourt and plot ways to make Rupert’s stay in Ramsgate more unpleasant,” Lady Barry announced.
She gestured at the Viscount and his brother.
“You two may call upon me tomorrow in the afternoon, and we shall plot together. You seem as if you enjoy an amusing diversion, and I believe you can be of assistance. Lizzy-girl, do not forget me on Friday. No walking out until that man leaves the neighbourhood.”
“I consider it a privilege to call upon you, Lady Barry.” Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed and offered his arm. “My father sent his regards when we left London. May I escort you to your carriage?”
“I shall call upon Darcy Cottage.” Mr Bennet stood and bid their visitors farewell. ‘I hear that my friend has decided that the crimes of his godson are his personal moral failure. I feel compelled to chide him out of self-loathing and back to good sense.”
Darcy Cottage was unusually quiet. Mr Bennet was in the study with Mr Darcy. With most of the household gone on what Ashley had elevated to a formal expedition to the confectioner’s, the house felt positively empty.
Anne de Bourgh sat nervously on a chair near the window, gloved hands folded neatly in her lap, her toe tapping impatiently upon the floor.
Her cousin Priscilla lounged on a sofa nearby with the air of someone preparing to be entertained.
Anne looked at the clock for perhaps the fiftieth time and resumed her tapping.
“You are making time move more slowly,” Priscilla complained.
“That is impossible, Prissy.” Anne looked away.
“It certainly is possible, when the clock is watched too attentively.”
“He said he would be here at one,” Anne complained.
Priscilla did not need to check the mantel clock to know the time. “It is only five minutes before, Cousin.”
“How bothersome.” Anne frowned.
“Indeed.” Priscilla smiled and looked away.
At precisely the appointed hour, the butler entered. “Mr Bingley.”
Mr Bingley entered with his usual good cheer, carrying the refreshing impression of someone who had never in his life approached anything without optimism.
He bowed. “Lady Priscilla. Miss de Bourgh.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Bingley,” Anne greeted him, unable to conceal her pleasure at his appearance.
“I trust you have not overexerted yourself since our last lesson,” he said.
“On the contrary,” Anne answered. “I have walked daily around the back garden with Priscilla. It was most invigorating.”
Bingley nodded solemnly. “Very sensible. I am happy to hear that the activity agreed with you.”
Priscilla made an amused sound that might have been suppressed laughter. Or perhaps a sneeze.
“Tomorrow, I am to visit the warm salt-baths. I am looking forward to it. Mrs Bennet recommends the endeavour.”
Bingley appeared sincerely pleased. “That is excellent, Miss de Bourgh!”
“Everything I have heard about it, that is, except what I have heard from my mother, suggests that sea air and bathing are exceedingly beneficial.”
“I cannot but agree, Miss de Bourgh. It must be, if so many people journey to the coast to undertake it.” Bingley had no medicinal knowledge whatsoever, yet he said this with such expertise that he might have been confused with a physician.
“Well. Since Anne is now practically a medical miracle, I suppose we may press on with our intended exercise.” Priscilla rose and went to the pianoforte.
“I have considered the best way to approach your instruction, Miss de Bourgh,” Bingley offered Anne his hand. “And I believe that we should begin with the graceful, slower country dances that I believe would be best suited to your disposition.”
“That seems sensible.” Anne took his hand
“Lady Priscilla, I think Mr Beveridge’s Maggot would be a perfect start today. Do you not agree?”
“I am not here to agree, Mr Bingley, I am here to play the pianoforte,” Priscilla replied.
Bingley looked at Anne. “Shall we?”
Anne nodded with suppressed excitement.
Priscilla began to play a gentle tune.
Bingley looked at Anne with the seriousness of a man entrusted with matters quite above his station. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“You are certain that you are comfortable?” he pressed insistently.
“I am,” she assured him.
Mr Bingley would not proceed until he was sure. “Quite certain?”
Anne’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Yes, Mr Bingley.”
“Capital!”
They began slowly. Anne made gradual progress.
Not gracefully, at first. But she had seen the dance performed at the few nighttime events that she had attended with her family since arriving.
As they practised she eventually became less stiff.
Less nervous. She no longer appeared as if each step would prove her to be a failure.
Mr Bingley guided her with gentle patience.
“Very good, Miss de Bourgh!”
“You say that anyway, Mr Bingley.”
“Not at all,” he assured her. “I would never insult you with insincere compliments.”
His expression was so impassioned that Anne instantly relaxed.
“You have more confidence today,” he informed her. “It improves your steps.”
Anne hesitated. “I hoped to improve before tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Mr Bingley asked in confusion.
“Lady Clifford’s ball is tomorrow,” she explained. “It is stupid of me to think I might be ready to dance before others so soon. I ought to grow stronger, more competent first. It was silly of me.”
“You are stronger already.” Mr Bingley was gentle. “Stronger than you know.”
Anne looked up at him. But no one had ever spoken to her as though she were capable before. She seemed almost startled by the mere idea of it.
At the pianoforte, Priscilla suddenly became very interested in the sheet music.
Anne missed a step. Just enough to lose her balance.
Mr Bingley caught her at once. His hand steadied her waist. The other still held her own.
Anne was lost to his gaze. They had stopped moving entirely.
Priscilla continued playing as if nothing at all had happened out of the ordinary.
“You are safe,” he said gently. “I will not allow anything to happen to you.”
Priscilla turned a page with theatrical concentration. She saw absolutely nothing. Certainly not her cousin being gazed at as if she were the most enchanting female on earth. Certainly not Charles Bingley appearing entirely confused and mystified.
“Shall we continue, or would you prefer to rest?” he asked. “We can stop for a cup of tea and then continue later if you like.
“I think I am well enough to try it again.”
“Excellent.” Bingley smiled in delight.
If Anne’s steps for the rest of the afternoon were sprightlier than before, and Mr Bingley’s encouragement a great deal more excessive, Priscilla was much too occupied with the instrument to notice.