CHAPTER TWELVE
Return to Netherfield
Elizabeth left Pemberley without an engagement and with no doubt that one would come.
The certainty was more intimate than announcement. It lived in Darcy's hand over hers at the temple, in the way he asked when the Gardiners expected to reach Hertfordshire, and in his promise to visit Bingley before Jane's wedding.
He did not write to Elizabeth during the first week.
She told herself that an unmarried gentleman could not begin a private correspondence. She told herself he was allowing her freedom. She told herself several correct things and remained annoyed with the post.
Georgiana wrote to Mary. Her letter contained four pages of music, two of Pemberley, and a postscript.
William has asked three times whether Sir Thomas prefers port or claret. I told him he is preparing for the wrong Bennet. Lady Bennet prefers champagne.
Mary read the postscript aloud by accident and turned crimson.
Lady Bennet looked at Elizabeth. "Why does Mr Darcy care what your father drinks?"
"Perhaps he intends to dine here."
"Mr Darcy has dined here often without studying the cellar."
Sir Thomas opened his newspaper. "My dear, allow your daughter the dignity of telling us when she has something to tell."
"She has something now. I can see it in her face."
Elizabeth escaped into the garden with Mary.
"I am sorry," Mary said. "I forgot the postscript."
"Georgiana did not."
Mary smiled. "No."
Jane's wedding occupied every room. Samples of ivory ribbon covered the morning-room table.
Bingley came and went between Longbourn and Netherfield with decisions he believed urgent until Jane answered them in one sentence.
Sir Thomas reviewed settlements. Lady Bennet discovered that a breakfast for sixty required invitations to ninety.
Kitty sketched designs for place cards. Lydia wished to release doves at the church door and was refused by every member of the family in sequence.
"No one values originality," she complained.
"We value the survival of gowns beneath frightened birds," Miss Harwood said.
Elizabeth found herself imagining another wedding after Jane's. The thought no longer terrified her. It embarrassed her only when she pictured Darcy standing beside her father in the library asking permission and Sir Thomas delaying solely to test him.
Bingley brought news that Darcy would arrive at Longbourn on the following Tuesday.
"He means to stay with me," Bingley said. "Though Caroline may go to the Hursts. We have not settled it."
Jane looked at her betrothed. "You have settled it. You have not told Caroline."
"That is a very different stage of settlement."
"Tell her before dinner."
"Yes, my dear."
Lady Bennet watched them with approval. "Jane will manage him beautifully."
"Mama," Elizabeth said.
"Oh, she may call it consultation if she prefers. Your father has become very particular about words."
Sir Thomas lowered his paper. "I begin to regret my clarity."
Darcy arrived on Tuesday afternoon.
Elizabeth saw him from the west window crossing Netherfield's drive on horseback. He dismounted before the groom reached him and looked up toward the house with an expression she could not read from a distance.
She did not wait in the drawing room to be discovered.
When Darcy entered the hall, Elizabeth stood near the staircase.
His face changed.
"Miss Elizabeth."
"Mr Darcy. Welcome back to Hertfordshire."
The footman took his coat. For a moment they were observed by three servants, Hill, and Lydia leaning over the upper banister.
"I hope your journey was comfortable," Elizabeth said.
"Very. I hope yours ended safely."
"It did."
Lydia whispered, "Ask him about Pemberley," to Kitty, loudly enough to reach the hall.
Darcy looked upward. The girls vanished.
"Your sisters have become discreet," he said.
"It is a recent and fragile development."
Sir Thomas received him in the library after dinner. Elizabeth did not know whether Darcy asked for the interview or her father summoned him. She sat with Jane and pretended to sew while the clock advanced.
Inside the library, Darcy stood before Sir Thomas's desk—the same desk where Sir Thomas had once held Lydia's muddy boot.
"You spoke to Elizabeth in Kent," Sir Thomas said.
Darcy had prepared for indirect questions. "I proposed to her. She refused me."
Sir Thomas's brows rose slightly. "She did not tell me until later."
"Her reasons were just."
"All of them?"
"Enough."
"And now?"
"Her feelings have changed. She has given me reason to hope, but I have not proposed again. I came first to ask whether, should she accept me, you would consent."
Sir Thomas studied him. "Why Elizabeth?"
Darcy had expected questions of settlement, family, and Lady Catherine. This was harder.
"Because she sees people clearly when prejudice does not hurry her—and she has courage to correct herself when it does.
Because she loves without making dependence small.
She challenges me, but not for sport. She made Georgiana feel safe.
At Pemberley, she understood the estate not as an ornament but a trust. When she enters a room, I know the truth will become more difficult and the room more alive. "
Sir Thomas looked down, perhaps hiding emotion.
"And Lady Bennet?"
Darcy did not mistake the test. "She is devoted to her daughters, more perceptive than I first believed, and louder than anyone in my family. I do not require her to become someone else."
"Kitty and Lydia?"
"Will be welcomed at Pemberley under reasonable supervision."
"Mary?"
"Georgiana would object if she were not."
"Longbourn's entail?"
"Irrelevant to Elizabeth's security. Her settlement will be generous and independent."
Sir Thomas leaned back. "You have answered the easy questions."
Darcy almost smiled. "I was warned."
"Here is the difficult one. What will you do when Elizabeth's judgment differs from yours and no evidence proves either of you correct?"
Darcy thought of Bingley, Georgiana, Hunsford, and the toll house.
"I will tell her what troubles me and hear her answer. If the matter concerns us both, we shall settle it together. If it is hers, I shall try not to interfere."
"Can you?"
"I am learning."
Sir Thomas rose. "So am I. You have my consent if she accepts. But you will not propose tonight merely because permission burns in your pocket. She has spent the day wondering whether you came for her. Let anticipation do some useful work."
Darcy stared, then recognized the humor.
"Tomorrow?"
"I do not schedule my daughters' proposals."
When Darcy returned to the drawing room, Elizabeth looked at his face and knew the interview had ended well.
He did not ask her to walk.
Sir Thomas entered behind him, accepted a glass of port, and appeared unbearably innocent.
Elizabeth resolved to speak severely to both men in the morning.
She had no opportunity.
Before breakfast, Lady Catherine de Bourgh arrived at Netherfield.
* * *
Lady Catherine's carriage announced itself with four horses, two outriders, and enough gravel thrown against the windows to suggest artillery.
Lady Bennet looked up from the breakfast table. "Who calls at this hour?"
Sir Thomas glanced outside. "A relation of Mr Darcy's who regards clocks as advice for other people."
Darcy stood. "My aunt."
Elizabeth's pulse quickened. "You did not know she was coming?"
"No."
The knocker sounded.
Lady Catherine entered in traveling silk and indignation. She accepted no refreshment, expressed no pleasure in meeting Lady Bennet again, and looked at Darcy as though he were a disobedient estate servant.
"I require a private conversation with Miss Elizabeth."
Lady Bennet's mouth opened.
Sir Thomas spoke first. "You may request one."
Lady Catherine turned. "Sir Thomas, this is a matter between Miss Elizabeth and myself."
"Then she may decide."
All attention moved to Elizabeth.
She set down her cup. "We may walk in the east garden."
Darcy took one step. Elizabeth met his eyes. He stopped.
The morning was cool and bright. Lady Catherine refused Elizabeth's offer of the terrace and marched down the gravel path until the house stood far enough away to prevent overhearing.
"You can be at no loss to understand why I am here."
"I can think of several possibilities. Mr Collins may have misplaced a shelf."
"This is no occasion for wit. A report of the most alarming nature reached me yesterday. I was told that my nephew intends to marry you."
Elizabeth's heart leapt at the certainty of the rumor. She kept her expression calm.
"Mr Darcy has not informed me of such an intention."
"But you expect it."
"My expectations are my own."
"From his infancy he has been destined for my daughter. Their union was planned by their mothers."
"Then their mothers should perhaps have consulted the two people required to marry."
Lady Catherine's color rose. "Do you imagine royal favor places you upon equal footing with the Darcys? Your father was an obscure country gentleman until accident elevated him."
"Until action distinguished him."
"Netherfield was given, not inherited."
"Pemberley was inherited, not earned. I do not think either fact determines the present owner's worth."
Lady Catherine stopped walking. "Your mother is a woman of noisy manners. Your younger sisters lack connection. Longbourn will pass to a clergyman. Your family's appearance at Court is tolerated because the King indulges gratitude."
Anger steadied Elizabeth.
"My mother is loud and loyal. My sisters are educated, loved, and improving. Mr Collins will inherit Longbourn lawfully, while my father has made it more valuable for him. And the Queen did not look as though she merely tolerated us when she welcomed Mary."
"You are impertinent."
"You came to my father's house before breakfast to insult every member of it. My civility has exceeded yours."
Lady Catherine drew herself up. "Will you promise never to enter into an engagement with my nephew?"
Elizabeth thought of Darcy's hand at Pemberley, of the question interrupted in the library, of his answers to Sir Thomas the night before—whatever they had been.