Such Peculiar Providence

by Meg Osborne

  “Lizzy!” Mrs Bennet wailed. “Must you! Have you no compassion for my headache?” Her eyes narrowed. “Where did you get that dress?”

  Lizzy glanced down, recalling for the first time in hours that the dress she wore was not her own.

  “I borrowed it,” she said. “From Georgiana. We were caught in the storm and my own dress was soaked through.” She smiled, wickedly. “And quite covered in mud up to my knees!”

  “Lizzy!” Mrs Bennet’s wail became a lament, and she turned, worried, to Mr Bingley.

  “You must not pay her any mind, Mr Bingley. She is forever saying such things just to torment me!”

  “Oh, I do not doubt every word that comes from Miss Elizabeth’s mouth to be true!” Charles laughed. “I have never seen anything like the weather we travelled in. And I’ll have you know that rain and mud make for a delightfully tricky time of it, in one’s carriage.” He shook his head. “I have nothing but admiration for my driver that he got Caro and me here in one piece, and that we made such good time.” He chuckled. “I don’t doubt he forced the horses into double speed simply that he might be got out of the rain sooner himself.”

  “Is Miss Bingley here with you?” Lydia piped up.

  “At Pemberley,” Charles said. “She is a trifle tired with our journey, I fear.” His own lips crinkled in a yawn that he struggled to conceal behind his hand.

  “As are you, I do not doubt!” Mrs Bennet clucked her tongue in a motherly fashion. “And yet you come to see us. Dear, dear Mr Bingley. How we appreciate your friendship to us.”

  Mr Bingley coloured, clearly unsure how to react to such bald praise.

  “You need not stay too long,” Jane said, shyly. “If you are weary from your travel. We are not going anywhere.”

  “Quite so!” Mr Bingley brightened with this realisation. “Then, perhaps, I will take my leave this afternoon. But I might call on you again, perhaps tomorrow?”

  He addressed his question to Mrs Bennet, but his eyes were all for Jane, Lizzy noticed, and it was her nod that caused his smile to broaden first, before Mrs Bennet’s delighted,

  “Of course, of course!”

  There was a small flurry of activity as Mr Bingley finished his tea and bid the family good afternoon and was released back into the wilds to retrace his steps towards Pemberley before the next bout of rain began, so that it was not for some time that Lizzy managed to slip closer to Jane and nudge her with her elbow.

  “Well!” she said, her eyes twinkling with fun.

  Jane’s smile was all the answer she could muster, and all the answer Lizzy needed. Would that I felt such assurance of my own heart! she thought, her smile faltering, but not enough that any but she knew it.

  “IS IT REALLY NECESSARY to call at the cottage again so soon?” Darcy asked over the breakfast table. He was both glad and disappointed Caroline Bingley had not yet risen to join him and her brother at the breakfast table. Glad, because it allowed him and his friend to talk freely without fear of her judgment or interruption, disappointed because he knew she would counter this suggestion of Bingley’s far more adroitly than he managed.

  “Perhaps not entirely necessary,” Bingley conceded. “But that does not mean we oughtn’t to do it.” His friend raised his eyes to Darcy’s. “Unless you do not wish to?”

  Darcy smiled, reflexively, although it felt like little more than a grimace. It was not that he did not want to call at the cottage: despite his promises to himself the previous day he knew he would continue to be drawn to it as a moth to a flame. His desire to happen upon the small house was heightened by his desire to see Elizabeth Bennet once more, though that, too, pained him to admit. Their conversation had been thoroughly interrupted by the arrival of his guests and he was unsure of her reactions to what he had said, if indeed she had any reaction at all. His thoughts had plagued him all evening so that he was almost certain his friends had deduced some change in his character, yet nobody mentioned it. Both Charles and Georgiana happily conversed, and the only person who seemed to be paying him any measure of attention was Caroline, yet she was hardly perceptive enough to deduce his true feelings.

  “Georgiana will wish to invite them to dinner,” he said, after a moment. “Ought we to wait and invite her to go with us?”

  Charles looked pained, as if the notion of waiting to begin the journey was particularly painful to him. Darcy took pity on him, certain that Georgiana would be content with their going alone, particularly if it afforded both gentlemen time to play suitors to the pair of sisters she clearly wished to claim for her own.

  “Upon reflection, I believe I recall her mentioning some intent to take the carriage into town today, no doubt with Caroline in company with her, so I do not imagine we will be ill-served by setting off without her.”

  Charles’ smile returned, and Darcy wished his own happiness was as easily won as his friend’s. Charles seemed to know precisely what he wished for from life, and pursued it with success time and again. He never considered failure a possibility, and never seemed to doubt his own nature. Darcy envied him this simplicity of character.

  Their plan set, the embarked happily on their walk, and Darcy was pleased that the previous day’s deluge had paved the way for a bright day, the winter sunlight lighting their way.

  “Good morning!” Bingley called, as they drew within sight of the cottage. Jane Bennet was in the garden, and she straightened, her features lifting in a smile as she recognised the figures that approached.

  “Good morning, Mr Bingley!” she said, picking her way daintily around the beds. “Mr Darcy, welcome! Will you come in?”

  “If it will not disturb you,” Darcy said, before his friend could blunder any further. “Or your family.”

  “Not at all!” Jane smiled. “You have timed your call well: we are all at home.”

  Darcy’s smile remained fixed, for with everyone present the small cottage felt smaller still, so that he warily eyed the windows, wishing to be out of doors almost as soon as they had taken their seats. His eyes sought out Elizabeth, but she did not meet his gaze, fixing her attention upon Mr Bingley so that Darcy felt more than a little perturbed. He wished her to look at him as if he might glean from her aspect her feelings on their previous conversation. She eluded him, still, and he sighed. Charles, sitting beside him, took the gesture for a prompt and ceased speaking almost immediately, throwing down the conversational gauntlet to his friend.

  “Forgive me for talking on, so! Mr Darcy, you wished to speak.”

  Darcy straightened, but his friend’s pointed raise of the eyebrows reminded him that he had, indeed, planned to say something.

  “Quite so!” he said, shortly, and turned to Mrs Bennet. If Elizabeth would not even deign to meet his gaze then he would not go out of his way to seek it. He cleared his throat. “I wondered if you might care to dine with us this evening at the house, Mrs Bennet.” He ran his eyes quickly over the faces of her daughters, unable to ignore Elizabeth entirely, despite his best intentions. “All of you, I mean.”

  “Again?” Mrs Bennet smiled.” You are very kind -”

  “It is on our account, Mrs Bennet,” Charles put in. “The arrival of old friends is the very best excuse for a soiree, would not you say?”

  “A soiree?” Catherine Bennet squeaked.

  Darcy groaned, but there would be no escaping an inquisition now.

  “Will there be dancing?” Lydia asked.

  “Indeed there will!” Mr Bingley said.

  “Indeed there will not,” Darcy muttered, but, seeing the disappointment his words wrought on the room, he amended them quietly. “Be much. There will not be much. I dare say we will endure a turn or two about the room, Miss Lydia, provided that Georgiana might be prevailed upon to play.” There was a cough from one corner of the room and he once again was forced to clarify his statement to appease another Miss Bennet. “Or you, Miss Mary. Any dancing will be contingent on your playing. I shall leave the decision to you.”

  This
led to a frenzy of excited chatter, and he again lifted his gaze to the window, wondering how much longer the visit must be endured before he and Charles might make their escape. His friend saw no problem with the loud, crowded parlour, but Darcy found it stifling.

  Elizabeth Bennet chanced, at that moment, to walk closer to the window, so that the light caught her upturned features, and Darcy’s eyes strayed to her, lingering there for a breath. Something in her stance shifted, as if she knew, even without looking, that his attention was on her, and he fancied her smile faded a fraction. Does it pain her so much to think I might care for her? His heart sank. Surely it must. He had thought them equally afflicted the previous evening, but now he saw how it must have been. She had to listen to his words, had to indulge him in his fancies, for he, being their landlord, had the power to evict them at will, should anything they do displease him. His brows drew together in a frown. That was not my intent! How could it ever have been my intent?

  “Miss Elizabeth, you need not attend if you do not wish.” He had spoken almost before being conscious of the thought and turned to the rest of the family. “You are welcome, of course, but you are under no obligation to join us. Come, Charles, let us be on our way. We have already taken up too much of Mrs Bennet’s morning.”

  “Ah...yes.” Charles turned a curious glance to his friend, but obediently stood and followed him to the doorway.

  “I hope to see you all again this evening,” he said, with a cheery farewell to all in the house.

  Darcy did not trust himself to look back, and was already halfway down the path when Elizabeth’s voice finally reached his ears.

  “If Mr Darcy does not wish us there...”

  “Oh, but he does!” Charles said, dismissing her concern with the shake of his head. “He would not have asked you if he did not. Believe me, Miss Elizabeth, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy rarely does a thing he does not wish to!”

  Chapter Twenty

  Georgiana Darcy had proved herself to be utterly useless at espionage. When she had first mentioned undertaking a visit to the nearest town, Caroline had leapt at the opportunity, certain that spending the entire day with Mr Darcy’s sister must yield something by way of results. She liked Georgiana, who possessed a sweet nature in contrast to her brother’s usually surly mood. Caroline had been convinced of Mr Darcy’s growing still more aloof in the short time they had been apart, or rather, he had grown aloof towards her. She might have assumed the problem had something to do with her, but that idea was so preposterous that she began to look for blame elsewhere. She did not have to look far. Elizabeth Bennet must be both cause and culprit of Mr Darcy’s foul mood. Had she schemed for his heart, as Caroline had feared she would? Was he, even now, reeling and ill-used from Eliza’s plots? She would get to the bottom of it, she was sure, and Georgiana would be sure to help her. For inasmuch as Caroline was fond of the young Miss Darcy there was one key factor she was not ignorant of: Georgiana Darcy liked her. She could draw no conclusions about Georgiana’s opinions of the Miss Bennets, en masse or individually, although when she spoke of them, which was often, she had been nothing but complimentary. Still, Caroline had rank and seniority on her side: she had known Georgiana longer and better and boasted a connection through her brother that far outweighed the proximity any Miss Bennet might claim. She was more her equal, too, being at Pemberley as a guest, rather than a tenant. There was no business necessitating her presence there, it was friendship, only.

  “It will be wonderful to all be together this evening, do not you think, Miss Bingley?” Georgiana asked, as they clambered back into their carriage and set forth for Pemberley after a dull and patently useless day visiting small shops and passing the time of day with the common folk Georgiana seemed to count among her acquaintances. Caroline wondered idly if Mr Darcy would approve of her greeting such people so enthusiastically, or referring to “my friend, the baker’s wife”. Caroline prided herself on her ability to manage her emotions and fancied that she had kept her true opinions well hidden, but she had been a little shocked at Georgiana’s familiarity and fondness for these trades-people.

  “I am not sure I understand you, Georgiana, dear,” Caroline said, as the carriage lurched into motion. “We were together last evening, but I am sure after their exertions today my brother and yours will be eager for a little civilised company.”

  Georgiana laughed, and Caroline was unsure if she found reference to herself as “civilised” or the notion that their brothers exerted themselves any more than two gentlemen at leisure might, amusing. She arranged her features into an approximation of a smile and waited for her young friend to explain herself.

  “Why, I mean the Miss Bennets, of course.”

  Caroline’s blood froze in her veins.

  “My brother is inviting them to dine with us - or has done by now, I expect.” She smiled innocently across the carriage at her friend. “Did he not tell you?”

  “I have not seen either gentleman today.”

  “No, indeed!” Georgiana’s smile grew, infuriatingly. “I forgot, you had not yet risen when they set out on their tour of the estate. My brother advocated a small gathering at Pemberley this evening. To celebrate yours and Mr Bingley’s arrival of course.” She lowered her tone to a companionable whisper. “I think your brother rather suggested it, for he is eager to be reunited with Miss Bennet, I fancy.”

  Caroline said nothing, certain that this was the case. Had it not been enough for Charles to see Jane the previous day, and then lose half the evening to listing off her virtues to anyone who would listen, and ignorant of those who did not?

  “He scarcely ceased from praising her last evening,” Georgiana remarked, as if she had been privy to Caroline’s thoughts. “You know him better than I, Miss Bingley, tell me, do you think there is a wedding on the horizon?”

  Her eyes sparkled with fun, but Caroline’s stomach lurched and she reached a hand out to the side of the carriage to steady herself. She saw, then, her whole future stretched out before her. Charles would marry, yes, and if not Miss Jane Bennet then another just like her. Or perhaps worse - perhaps someone lacking even Miss Bennet’s basic breeding and manners, the sweet nature that even Caroline at her most objectionable could not deny her possessing. She would be thrust to the side, no longer the central lady in her brother’s life. She would lose her position entirely, she realised, for whoever Charles chose for his wife would also become the mistress of his estate, when he purchased one, and she would be relegated to being a guest in her own home. It was too cruel!

  “Oh, Miss Bingley! You are dreadfully pale all of a sudden.” Georgiana’s voice was heavy with concern. “I hope you are not unwell?”

  “Not unwell, no.” Caroline smiled a thin-lipped reassurance. “Merely tired. I think I will retire for an hour to my room upon our return, particularly if you are to have guests this evening.”

  “Oh, the Bennets are hardly guests!” Georgiana laughed, musically. “They are our dearest friends, or are swiftly becoming so. Do you know Miss Mary is quite a talented piano player, although quite shy, and it requires a good deal of prompting to encourage her to play to the extent of her skill.”

  Caroline’s features must have hardened in irritation to hear this praise heaped even on the plainest of the Bennet sisters, for Georgiana blithely changed tack.

  “And you must play for us too, Miss Bingley, for I know you to possess a great deal of skill when it comes to music. How privileged we will be to have so many musicians together under one roof!”

  “It is a pity, in that case, that not all the Miss Bennets possess such affinity for music,” Caroline ground out, clinging desperately to the one detail that detracted from Elizabeth Bennets apparent perfection.

  “Oh, no! But somebody will need to dance.” Georgiana laughed, amused at the prospect. “My brother will not admit any eagerness to dance, but I am sure Miss Elizabeth will persuade him. They seem to so enjoy one another’s company I do not doubt it will be a fine prospect to se
e them dance together.”

  ELIZABETH TOOK PARTICULAR care over her toilette that evening, recalling the last time they had dressed for an evening that promised dancing and merriment. They had not known Mr Darcy then, nor Mr Bingley, and now! Well, it seemed plain to her, if not to anyone else, that Mr Bingley’s affections for Jane had not only not abated, but had in fact grown during their separation. He had insisted that, whatever form the dancing that evening took, that Jane would commit the first to him. Lizzy smiled at her reflection. She was happy that Jane’s heart would be safe: indeed she rather suspected that Mr Bingley’s proposal would come before the week was out, for surely this was at least partly behind his decision to travel to Derbyshire, to begin with. Jane would have a home of her own, and a charming husband who would make his wife’s happiness his chief concern. She could not ask for more for her sister, or for herself.