“But you cannot leave! Your leg — ”
“Shall be fine. Your Mr. Jones has declared he has never seen a leg knit itself with more speed. In any case, my cousin and sister shall see to it that I am immobilized with blankets and pillows. The roads are in good condition, my coach is well-sprung, and I should be in my townhouse before nightfall without incident.” He smiled. “When I return, I shall not be in a chair.”
Elizabeth smiled in return, her heart racing. “Shall my friend dance with me?”
“I shall probably stumble about the room, but nothing shall prevent me from claiming my set.” Darcy’s warm look sent the most delightful shivers through Elizabeth’s body. “But you have not answered my question.”
Elizabeth’s mouth was dry. “I should be delighted to speak with you.”
Darcy’s entire face seemed to glow with happiness. “You do me great honor.” He gripped Elizabeth’s hands tightly, and she knew he planned to kiss them.
“Mr. Darcy — no!” Elizabeth whispered as she pulled her hands away. Her eyes gestured towards the house. “We are being watched!”
Sure enough, several female faces could be seen looking out the parlor window. Lydia was even waving.
“Can one die of mortification?” cried Elizabeth.
Darcy barked with laughter. “I do think it time we returned indoors. Will you summon Bartholomew?”
Elizabeth got to her feet. “That will not be necessary, sir. I believe we can manage.” She went to the rear of the Bath chair.
Darcy was scandalized. “Miss Elizabeth! Do you mean to push me inside? You should not!”
With a mock-serious tone, Elizabeth leaned over his shoulder. “Did we not just have a conversation about allowing a lady her way?”
* * *
The next morning the carriages were packed, and the Darcys were joined by the party from Netherfield. Mr. Bingley had business in Town; his solicitor’s name was mentioned, causing Miss Bennet to blush. His relations decided to accompany him and partake of Christmastide in London, and Colonel Fitzwilliam declared he would help Mr. Darcy and Georgiana. Therefore, Netherfield would be empty until the New Year.
The talk around the table centered on the upcoming nuptials between Mr. Bingley and Jane. Miss Bingley seemed to take pains in conversing amicably with her future sister, an occurrence that had Darcy wondering whether Mr. Bingley had demanded more cordiality from his relations towards his intended.
Darcy paid little attention to his friend. His mind was more agreeably engaged. He had been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow, particularly when she looked upon him with what he hoped was favor. He had let himself believe that Elizabeth was partial to him while her sister was indisposed at Netherfield. Her saucy looks then were as nothing compared to her affectionate glances now. She had called him her friend, and he was determined that when he returned from London, she would call him something much more dear. Bingley would certainly beat him to the altar, but Darcy was encouraged he would not lag far behind.
The time for departure was upon them, and Bartholomew wheeled him outside to the carriages. There were three standing by the front door: The Bingley coach was behind two that bore the Darcy crest. A tearful Georgiana took her leave of her new friends, and Darcy overheard Caroline insisting that Jane journey to London so that they could shop for her trousseau in shops apparently approved of by the Sisters Bingley.
Lydia approached him, a glum look on her face. “Goodbye, Mr. Darcy. I am sad you are leaving. Thank you for letting me ride Miranda. You were very kind, and I will miss her — I mean, I will miss you and your sister.”
Bingley overhead and interjected, “Oh, I should not worry about that, Miss Lydia. I will be in London for only a few days, and I have your father’s permission to stable the horse I have provided for Miss Bennet.”
“That is nice of you. I am sure Jane will appreciate it.”
Bingley laughed. “But I have not told you the rest! Darcy tells me that Miranda is quite happy here in Mr. Bennet’s stable, as she has made friends with my horse, and Darcy has no desire to reclaim her for the next few months.”
It took a moment for Lydia to understand fully Mr. Bingley’s meaning, but when she did, she squealed and threw her arms around Darcy’s neck. “Oh, Mr. Darcy! You are the nicest man in all the world!”
Once Darcy extracted himself, to everyone’s amusement, he took his leave of the rest of the Bennet family. Mary promised to practice every day, and Mr. Bennet declared that Darcy and his family were always welcome to Longbourn. “But perhaps not on my couch,” he added with a twinkle.
Kitty presented him with a portfolio. “Here is your commission, Mr. Darcy. I hope you like it.”
“I am sure I shall,” Darcy returned.
The girl blushed. “I added something to it,” she whispered, her eyes flicking at Elizabeth.
Darcy glanced at the closed package. Part of him wished to open it right away to see if she did enclose her study of Elizabeth along with Georgiana’s portrait, as she seemed to hint. But that would never do. He would have to enjoy it in the privacy of his carriage. “I thank you, Miss Kitty.”
The girl nervously giggled and gave way to her mother.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy,” cried that worthy woman, “we have enjoyed having you and your delightful sister here at Longbourn! I expect it has not been too unpleasant,” she looked pointedly at Elizabeth, “as we have attractions not found in even the grandest houses in England! But I suppose you know that! We do look forward to your return and that of Miss Darcy, too. Is that not right, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth turned beet-red, and Darcy felt he should feel sorry for her. But he was enjoying himself too much.
“You are quite right, Mama,” the embarrassed girl managed. “Mr. and Miss Darcy are very welcome at Longbourn.”
Mrs. Bennet smirked at Darcy. “I know some of us will count the minutes until your return for dear Jane’s wedding.” Darcy almost laughed as Elizabeth covered her face. “You are returning for the event, are you not?”
“That is up to Bingley, madam. I speak for my sister and me when I say it is our earnest hope we should meet again soon.”
“Do not worry about Miranda,” cried Lydia. “I shall ride her every day!”
“Of course, you shall, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet. “You are a very generous man, Mr. Darcy. So good to my girls. I insist that when you return we have the honor of hosting you and your sister! Is that not right, Mr. Bennet?”
“I have no objection to the notion, my dear” — Mr. Bennet directed a very knowing look towards his second eldest — “but I am of the mind that such a thing might prove to be impractical. Time will tell.”
Darcy decided the teasing of Elizabeth had gone far enough. “I thank you for the offer, but I believe my friend Bingley has other plans.” He turned to the other man, who was engrossed in making his farewell to his intended. “What say you, Bingley?”
“Hmm?” Bingley looked around, causing general laughter. Caroline openly rolled her eyes. “Oh! Oh, yes! As I hope Darcy will stand up with me, I plan to invite him and his sister to Netherfield at the appointed time. We have plenty of room, and Caroline would be happy to play hostess.”
“Of course.” At least Miss Bingley did not grit her teeth.
“There,” said Darcy to the disappointed matron. “I would not inconvenience you, but I hope to visit Longbourn often while we are here.”
“You have an open invitation to come every day!” Mrs. Bennet insisted. “Every day, mind you!”
“I consider myself obligated. Thank you, madam.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Farewell, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Good journey to you, Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy, Mrs. Annesley.” She looked at Darcy. “I, too, look forward to meeting again.” A fit of giggles from her sisters caused her to shut her eyes in embarrassment.
Darcy smiled understandingly. “As do I. Until then.” With that, he gave the i
ndication he was ready to be placed in the carriage.
The operation, under the joint supervision of Mr. Jones and Colonel Fitzwilliam, took some doing, as the Darcy footmen took great care with Darcy’s injured leg. Once he was well-established in the carriage, his sister and her companion joined him.
“Very well, Darcy,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, now on horseback. “Bartholomew and the nurse are in the second carriage. We are ready to leave. The Bingleys will follow close behind. I shall make certain the driver takes his time and avoids the major ruts in the road.”
For his usually jolly cousin to talk so seriously told Darcy that the man was concerned. “I leave things in your capable hands, Cuz.” Darcy wished he was on the other side of the coach — he could no longer see the Bennet party, and he wanted one last look at Elizabeth.
It seemed that the lady in question was like-minded, for in the next instant, to his delight, she appeared outside his window, holding a large, ginger-colored creature.
“Mr. Darcy!” cried Elizabeth. “Where are your manners, sir? You would return to London without first taking your leave of Miss Cassandra? She is most put out!”
Darcy smiled. “Ah, an unintended oversight, I assure you. Farewell, gentle friend! Keep your mistress warm.” Until I return.
The cat meowed and Elizabeth bent down as if to hear what the beast was saying. “Cassandra wishes you Godspeed, quick recovery, and safe return.” She looked up, a tender look in her eye. “As do we all.”
Darcy said nothing, but he trusted his expression told volumes. It seemed to serve, as Elizabeth blushed prettily and waved as the carriage moved away down the London road. Darcy turned in his seat as much as he could and kept the two in his sight as long as possible.
Chapter 20
IN THE MONTH THAT FOLLOWED, a regular correspondence was established between Longbourn and the Darcy residence in London. Elizabeth missed Darcy intensely — he was now Fitzwilliam in the secret reaches of her heart — but propriety forbade any direct communication without a betrothal. Therefore, Georgiana became their willing intermediary. Elizabeth filled her letters with the usual activities an imminent wedding generates — dresses and flowers and breakfast menus — enough to satisfy the curiosity of a young, sisterless girl not yet out. But for Fitzwilliam’s sake, she included news of Bingley, of her father’s plans for the spring planting, and numerous innuendoes of how completely a particular lady from Hertfordshire desired the company of a certain gentleman from the north.
It was Georgiana’s task to relate this information to her brother. After a particularly embarrassing episode from the second letter — some little anecdote about Elizabeth’s cat Cassandra purring in Darcy’s lap that made no sense to the sister but had turned the brother positively red — it was decided between the Darcy siblings that Georgiana would henceforth just hand Elizabeth’s letters to Fitzwilliam for his own perusal.
Georgiana returned letters to her friend, but Darcy could hardly relate his longing for Elizabeth to her. No, it was left to Miss Darcy to try to give Elizabeth news of Darcy, using her own powers of observation. Elizabeth had to be satisfied with hearing of her beloved by way of his innocent sister.
To say the least, Darcy was not satisfied. He never was a good patient in the past, and coupled with his burning desire to return to Longbourn, his behavior now bordered on the uncivil. Mr. Macmillan bore the brunt of it. The good man withstood the badgering of his employer and would not allow him to try to walk with a cane until Christmas.
Even sweet Georgina felt the sting of his black mood. About a week before Christmas, she skipped into her brother’s study, Elizabeth’s latest letter in her hand and mischief in her heart.
“Look, brother-mine, a letter from Miss Elizabeth!” She held up the communication.
Darcy, a smile on his face, held out his hand. “Thank you, my dear. Do you not have music lessons soon?”
Georgiana knew Fitzwilliam preferred to read Elizabeth’s letters in private. It was her intention to deliver the note, but Elizabeth’s witty commentary had apparently ignited the imp in Miss Darcy. She wanted some sport with her brother first. She twirled about, crushing the letter protectively to her breast.
“No! You shall not have this letter! It is improper.”
“Georgie,” said Darcy wearily, “I am in no mood for this.” Indeed, Mr. Macmillan had prescribed exercises to strengthen his leg, weakened by neglect and lack of use, and Georgiana was aware that they hurt like the devil. “Give me Miss Elizabeth’s letter, please.”
“No! It is mine. You will just have to come and get it,” she teased.
“You know I cannot.”
“Oh, that is too bad. And it is such an interesting letter, too.”
“Georgie . . . ” There was a world of warning in his voice, but Miss Darcy chose not to mark it.
“I shall just sit here and enjoy it again.” She sat in a chair on the far side of the room.
He grew sharp. “Georgiana, please.”
“Or perhaps I shall take it outside! It is not too cold, is it? What a good idea!”
Darcy snapped. “I am your brother, and you will give me that letter right now!”
Needless to say, it took the rest of the day for a contrite Mr. Darcy to apologize fully to his distraught sister.
* * *
Christmas and Boxing Day came and went, as did the New Year. It was but a few days later that Darcy’s butler walked into the study one evening.
“Sir, Colonel Fitzwilliam to see you.”
From behind his ornate desk, Darcy granted his cousin permission to enter and carefully stood as the officer bounded into the room. Darcy moved to greet him, a wry smile on his face.
“You are in a good mood, Fitz,” Darcy observed as they shook hands.
“I should be,” said the colonel, a rather silly expression on his weather-beaten face. “And you? How is your leg?”
“Tolerable. Macmillan has removed the splint, as you see. I manage to hobble about with a cane when it is too painful.”
“Good. Georgiana has said you have been rather beastly of late.”
Darcy flushed a little. “It is nothing, Fitzwilliam. What brings you here?”
“A drink! I need a drink of your fine brandy, for I bear monumental news!”
Assured that his Fitzwilliam relations were well, Darcy bade his guest sit and soon presented him with a snifter of Cognac. “Well?” said Darcy upon taking a chair opposite his cousin. “Will you tell me this news directly, or shall I have to weasel it out?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam was very smug. “You will never guess.”
“Let me see. You have a new horse — that fine chestnut from Knightley.”
“No.”
“That pointer bitch Willoughby was boasting about? You had your eye on her.”
“Come, Darcy, you can do better than that!”
“Truly, Fitz, I am not in a humor for this. Tell me your news or let us drink in silence.”
“Congratulate me, for I am to be married!”
Darcy’s head jerked up. “Married? To whom? Forgive me, Fitz — allow me to wish you joy, but who is the unfortunate lady?”
“Ha! Miss Caroline Bingley.”
Darcy sat back, crossly. “I said I was not in a mood for your jokes.” He took in his cousin’s expectant expression and raised an eyebrow. “You are in earnest? You have proposed to Miss Bingley?”
“Yes, but officially she has agreed only to a courtship. A mere formality — we have determined we shall be married by year’s end. I might yet beat you to the altar unless you have finally proposed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” He gestured at the drawing of Elizabeth done by Miss Kitty, mounted and hung with obvious care next to the portrait of Georgiana.
Darcy merely blinked. His years of practice in hiding his true feelings served him well now, but Colonel Fitzwilliam was not deceived.
“I know what you are thinking, Darcy, and you are wrong about Caroline.” He smiled. “Not that I blame you
. Few people know the real Miss Bingley. It is her own doing — those airs she puts on! It is to laugh if one did not feel for her.”
“You . . . you have feelings for her?”
“Of course. Just because I do not moon as you do over your ladylove does not mean I fail to hold Caroline in high regard. We got to know each other quite well in Hertfordshire. It was not so great a burden to keep her away from your sickbed as one might expect. In private, absent from those she means to impress, she is very amicable and amusing.”
“Are we speaking of the same Caroline Bingley? Charles Bingley’s sister?”
“I am. You only know the public guise she put on — rather poorly, I might observe. Poor girl, always running from her roots in trade without having any proper guidance on how to do it. That ridiculous superiority! One can either despise her or pity her. I chose to show compassion. And do you know what I discovered? A lovely, insecure lady longing to belong to someone. She is terrified of returning to trade, yet she has found entrance into the ton difficult. When I found her out, oh how she resisted me! But I was determined; I would not be gainsaid. I wore her down with good humor and patience. She now loves me more than she ever loved you.”
“You do realize she wanted to be Mrs. Darcy.”
“Wrong, old boy,” said the colonel with a smile. “She wanted to be mistress of Pemberley and the acceptance by the First Circles that title would provide her. You just came along with it. Once I was able to get her to see that you were unattainable, it was no hard work to have her understand that the second son of an earl might do as well, especially as he is amusing and has not the abhorrence of society owned by his cousin.”
“But you have no fortune.”
Mr. Darcy Came to Dinner Page 25