by K C Kahler
Darcy was stunned. Of all the times for Bingley to show caution in his dealings with young ladies, why must it be now? Normally, he would rejoice at Bingley’s rare display of restraint, but not now, for now it interfered with his own reckless yet somehow compulsory behaviour.
“I have reason to suspect that the imminent betrothal of Miss Bennet to Mr Collins is a rumour started by Mrs Bennet,” he said. “Looking back to that first night at the assembly, we should have found it odd that they were discussed as ‘soon-to-be’ engaged. Either you are engaged or you are not—and clearly, they are not.”
“Not yet. But surely it is expected.”
“Perhaps. Mr Collins's intentions are perfectly obvious, but Miss Bennet’s thoughts are less so.”
Bingley’s eyes widened. “Do you think she is the unwilling recipient of his attentions?”
Darcy’s only reply was a significant look, which caused Bingley’s brow to furrow with thought. “Yes, yes. He is a…unique sort of…fellow.” Realisation dawned, and Bingley exclaimed, “He stands to inherit Longbourn! What a dreadful position to be in—for Miss Bennet, I mean!”
“Indeed.”
After a pause, Bingley walked towards the door, calling out, “Come, we shall go then. We really ought to inquire after Miss Lydia.”
Bingley was silent for much of the ensuing ride, leaving Darcy alone with his thoughts, which were invariably drawn back to Oakham Stream.
“Darcy,” said Bingley as they neared Longbourn, “keep your eyes open for any confirmation of what we discussed earlier about this expected betrothal.”
“I always keep my eyes open. But I caution you, Bingley, even if the betrothal does not happen, you should not attach yourself to a family like the Bennets. Do not become involved in all these matchmaking schemes.” If only Darcy could take his own advice! Though technically, what he was doing was match-breaking.
“I just wish to know the truth of the matter. You may keep your counsel.”
Darcy wanted to ask for an explanation of Bingley’s peevish tone, but they were already at the front of the house. They dismounted, handed their horses over, and climbed the steps, each eager to see at least one of the young ladies awaiting them inside.
Elizabeth was so tired—tired of listening to Mr Collins’s inanities, tired of this terrible rift with her father, tired of keeping secrets. In fact, she realised with no little astonishment, the only person from whom she kept no secrets was Mr Darcy. No one knew of their clandestine meetings, for she could not tell Jane about such impropriety, and although she was eager for Charlotte’s opinion on the matter, they had had no privacy to discuss it. Yet Mr Darcy knew all of Elizabeth’s secrets. Mr Darcy, who disapproved of her family and found entertainment in her struggles. Mr Darcy, whose surprising dimples had been revealed that morning. Mr Darcy, who, via his unforeseen ability to say exactly what she needed to hear, had provided her the only bit of sanity over these last two days. Mr Darcy, whose visit she eagerly awaited now. How had this ever happened?
So lost was Elizabeth in her thoughts that she failed to notice Mr Collins’s uncharacteristic silence and absorbed stare at Jane. Usually, this was precisely the moment when Elizabeth would employ him on some topic of interest. But in this instance, she allowed him to ruminate for too long—a huge error.
Mr Collins stood and cleared his throat. “If I may be so bold as to request the honour of a priv—”
“Mr Collins!” Elizabeth almost yelled his name before subduing herself. “Sir…I had hoped…you would tell us more about…Miss de Bourgh. Yes, Miss de Bourgh sounds like such an admirable young lady, and we all wish to know more of her.”
“I would be most gratified to elaborate on her many charms, Cousin, but as I was saying, it is a very pleasant day out and—”
“Oh yes, do let us go into the garden where you can tell me about her! Does she play the pianoforte? Does she draw? She must have had excellent masters to teach her, for Lady Catherine would be ever so conscientious of the advantages offered by such an education.”
Elizabeth was certain her volley of questions and her last observation in particular had served the purpose of engaging him on his favourite subject, but then her mother interfered. “Let poor Mr Collins finish a sentence!”
Lydia and Kitty snickered at the absurdity of such a command. Mrs Bennet ignored them. “What on earth has come over you, Lizzy? Why are you not out rambling in the woods on this fine day? Leave Jane and Mr Collins to their own conversation for a while, will you not?”
Elizabeth was truly in a panic.
Mr Collins suddenly remembered why he had stood up. “Oh yes, I was about to request the honour of escorting Miss—”
“Mama!!” squealed Lydia from the window. “He is come! Mr Darcy is come with Mr Bingley!”
“Oh excellent, my dear Lydia! Here, pinch your cheeks—yes, just so. Lizzy, pinch your cheeks. Go on…that will have to do.”
The next few minutes were spent pinching cheeks, smoothing hair, arranging skirts, and stowing away ribbons and bonnets. Even Mr Collins checked his cravat and smoothed his waistcoat.
“Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy, ma’am,” announced Mrs Hill as the two men stepped into the room, the former with a wide smile and easy greeting for all assembled and the latter with an assessing look at Elizabeth. She knew she must appear positively wild between the fright she had had a few minutes earlier and all that ridiculous cheek-pinching.
“We are very glad you have come, Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley. Is that not so, Lydia, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth would have grimaced at Lydia’s enthusiastic, lash-fluttering affirmations, but she was too relieved by the sudden appearance of the gentlemen. She caught Mr Darcy’s eye as she replied, “Indeed, our moods are considerably lightened with your timely call, gentlemen.”
“We are pleased to be of service.” Mr Darcy glanced about the room, seemingly taking stock of the players. If he sought entertainment, he was bound to get it today.
“Yes, indeed!” said Mr Bingley as he looked at Jane, who, Elizabeth noted, had an uncharacteristically flushed face. Mr Bingley paused before addressing Mrs Bennet again, “We wished to inquire about Miss Lydia’s health. Darcy and I have been most concerned for her.”
Mrs Bennet was pleased by this admission. “How kind of you to worry for dear Lydia! As you can see, she bears her injury well. Lydia has always been full of vigour and good cheer, never one to complain.”
“Yes, but I’ve been ever so bored cooped up here, Mr Darcy,” complained Lydia. “Oh! But I wanted to thank you for carrying me off the cricket field! I was quite astonished to hear of it from my sisters, for I do not remember a thing from when that ball knocked me down to when I sat with Jane in the shade. Lord, but my head hurt then! And you warned me about playing too silly not an hour beforehand! What a laugh!”
Everyone looked to Mr Darcy for a response. Elizabeth decided to intervene on his behalf. It was the least she could do for the poor man. “I suspect Mr Darcy is too much of a gentleman to say he told you so. But I begin to suspect something quite shocking, Mr Bingley. Apparently, my sister and your friend discussed strategy before the start of the innings, and just as Peter Lucas and I were about to overtake the lead in runs, Lydia was conveniently injured to end the match!”
Mr Darcy smirked, Lydia puffed in outrage, and Mr Bingley laughed. “I might defend my friend, for he often says that disguise of every sort is his abhorrence. But the only thing he abhors more is losing at cricket—so I can readily believe he would concoct such a nefarious plot!”
“Cousin Elizabeth, I am appalled you would suggest such underhanded tactics might be employed by Mr Darcy, the nephew of Lady Catherine.” Mr Collins, aside from Lydia, was the most offended person in the room.
“My apologies to you, Mr Collins and, of course, to Mr Darcy.” She cocked an eyebrow at her accomplice. “If Mr Darcy abhors disguise, perhaps I should blame only Lydia for the precipitous ending. Sadly, we shall never know who would have been victo
rious had the match proceeded.”
“Ha! We had you beat,” exclaimed Lydia. “Did we not, Mr Darcy?”
“I believe our teams were well matched, and either side could have prevailed. Miss Elizabeth arranged the players quite judiciously. It was a rewarding competition.”
“Too bad Lydia ruined it,” sniffed Kitty.
“Now, Kitty, you know it was Lizzy who hit Lydia.” Mrs Bennet might have continued in this vein, but she seemed to recollect that Mr Bingley was present—and of course she did not want him to think poorly of her second daughter.
“But I do thank you, Mr Darcy, for the kindness you showed my Lydia on Saturday.” Mrs Bennet looked to him for some sign of enthusiasm, but he merely inclined his head. Resigned to his silence, she added, “Kitty, ring for tea.”
While Kitty obeyed, another door opened, and Mr Bennet entered the room. Elizabeth did not look forward to his petulant demeanour towards her—as if she needed another worry in this farcical visit!
“Ah, Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy. Good afternoon, gentlemen. Were you so bored at Netherfield as to seek entertainment elsewhere so soon after our eventful picnic?” The visitors replied more civilly than such a greeting deserved.
When the tea things were brought in, Elizabeth poured while Jane served. The conversation flowed easily between Mr Bingley, Elizabeth, and Jane, with eager and often awkward contributions from Lydia, Mrs Bennet, or Mr Collins. Mr Darcy spoke little, only replying when required. Mr Bennet spoke hardly a word, and when he did, it was wry or disparaging.
“I trust your sisters are well, Mr Bingley?” Elizabeth asked.
“They are quite well. They very much enjoyed the picnic. What a pleasant way to spend a Saturday! Do you not agree, Darcy?”
“It was quite enjoyable,” Mr Darcy acknowledged.
“Tell me, Mr Darcy,” began Mr Bennet, “which particular aspect did you enjoy the most?”
“Aside from the unusually fine weather, I most enjoyed the cricket match.”
“Indeed, I daresay the cricket match was exciting enough to entertain even the most sombre amongst us.”
Elizabeth knew she should not provoke her father, but she saw his sarcastic wit in a new light now. She would not let him pick on the faults of others without acknowledging his own. “Father, you forget that Mr Darcy did not just sit back and observe the match, he participated in it as a player and a captain. I am sure the other players would readily admit he performed his duties admirably.”
“Oh yes, Mr Darcy was an excellent captain!” cried Lydia, unaware of any tension. “If only we could play again. You mentioned a spring cricket match at Lady Catherine’s estate, Mr Darcy. Tell us, do you and your sister play in your aunt’s game?”
“I have in the past, but my sister has never played cricket anywhere but at Pemberley.”
Mr Bennet suddenly rose and made his excuses to return to his study, and Elizabeth silently rejoiced, though the whole situation was a source of sorrow for her.
* * *
Jane was relieved when her father removed himself from the company. He was not being agreeable. In fact, he was almost rude. She feared the antagonism between him and Elizabeth might erupt in front of the visitors.
“Is Miss Darcy at your home now?” Jane asked, trying to restart the conversation.
“No. She is in London.”
“How lucky she is! She must go to a ball every night!” Lydia’s enthusiasm was obvious.
“She does not. She will turn sixteen early in the New Year—far too young to be out. I could not consider her coming out for at least another two years.”
Mrs Bennet and Lydia looked decidedly crestfallen at this pronouncement. Mr Collins took advantage of the pause to praise Mr Darcy’s guardianship over Miss Darcy, and to extol the influence Lady Catherine had over the girl’s upbringing. Mr Darcy made no reply.
Mary entered the conversation for the first time. “Lizzy, I do not believe Charlotte had a chance to tell you the news yesterday; John Lucas is to return home.”
“That is wonderful news!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“I thought John was not expected home for another year,” Jane said.
“Apparently, Mr Lucas has earned sufficient fortune from his various trips to the Americas to return early.”
Mary’s revelation caught Mrs Bennet’s interest. “What an industrious young man John Lucas is, seeking to add to his family’s fortune. When is he expected back in Hertfordshire?”
“Before the yuletide. He is concluding his business in Southampton over the next few weeks,” Mary answered helpfully.
“Mary and Kitty, you should call upon him when he returns to welcome him back.”
Kitty sniffed. “Why should we go? It is Lizzy whom he will wish to see.” Mrs Bennet looked displeased, but Kitty continued on unawares. “You disapproved of his ‘flitting about the world on a merchant ship.’ You said he shouldn’t leave without getting engaged to Li—”
“Nonsense!” interrupted Mrs Bennet. “Of course John Lucas is free to go where he chooses.”
Kitty shrugged. “Lizzy, tell us about when you and John climbed the ancient oaks, and he was too frightened to climb down.”
“Our guests would not wish to hear such a story, and I think it paints both Jo—Mr Lucas and myself in a rather poor light,” Elizabeth replied. “But it does remind me… Mr Bingley, were you aware that some of the oldest trees in all of Hertfordshire grow in the woods of Netherfield Park?”
“Indeed? We did not notice when we surveyed the estate.”
“It is unlikely that you should see them from horseback. But there are about a dozen ancient oaks in the forest border that Longbourn and Netherfield share. There are also several springs on the Netherfield side.” Elizabeth began to tell Mr Bingley about some of the hidden treasures of Netherfield Park.
Mr Darcy offered a suggestion. “It occurs to me, Bingley, that a good landlord should know all there is to know about his estate. Perhaps we could arrange an excursion. Would you be willing to be our guide, Miss Elizabeth?”
Mrs Bennet rarely encouraged Elizabeth’s explorations of the countryside, but today was another matter. “Oh yes, Lizzy, you must show Mr Bingley anything he wishes to see.”
“I am perfectly willing to act as guide. Perhaps next week?”
“I think we might do better to take advantage of the current fair weather. Bingley and I are free tomorrow if that would suit.” Elizabeth nodded stiffly before Mr Darcy continued. “You mentioned that some of the ancient trees are on Longbourn’s side of the border. Are any of Longbourn’s other interesting features found along the route we are to take?”
Elizabeth’s enthusiasm seemed to grow. “Indeed they are. Mr Collins, you might wish to come on the walk.”
Jane bit back a smile as she recognised her sister’s strategy—more intervention.
“It is never too early to become familiar with your estate, Mr Collins,” Mr Darcy added.
“I am exceedingly obliged for the offer, Cousin Elizabeth. Of course, Mr Darcy, any suggestions you have for the proper running of an estate, I must accept with alacrity. Lady Catherine often speaks of…” Mr Collins proceeded to agree to the scheme in his usual garrulous manner, but he ended with a small request. “If I may be so bold as to suggest that our enjoyment of such an expedition can only be enhanced with the inclusion of Miss Bennet in our plans.”
“Oh yes, of course Jane will accompany you, Mr Collins,” interjected Mrs Bennet.
Mr Bingley smiled at Jane in a manner that made her catch her breath. He smiled often, but this was more than simple friendliness. After a moment, she noticed that Mr Collins was likewise beaming at her, though the effect was somewhat different.
“I want to come too!” Lydia cried.
“You are not yet recovered for such a long walk,” Elizabeth replied.
“But it’s not fair! I shall be so bored and vexed to know you and Jane are out with Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley. I can walk just as far as you can, I
am sure.”
“This is quite a bit farther than the millinery shop,” Lizzy observed wryly before becoming more serious. “It is not the mere three miles along the normal roads and paths to Netherfield. This is a circuitous route through forested hills and hollows.”
Lydia appealed to a higher power. “Mama! I can go, can’t I?”
“Lydia my love, do you not think it will be too much for you?”
Lydia began to object, but Mr Darcy cleared his throat. “If I may, Miss Bennet seemed to provide comfort to Miss Lydia after her injury. Perhaps Miss Bennet would not mind attending to Miss Lydia’s needs tonight to ensure she is well rested and able to participate tomorrow?”
“Of course; it would be my pleasure,” Jane replied, though she wondered at Mr Darcy making such a suggestion.
“Indeed, Jane and Lydia should retire after tea and take supper in Lydia’s room later.” Elizabeth’s mouth twitched as she looked at Jane. “To make sure Lydia has a calm, restful evening, they should not be disturbed.”
“That is a perfect solution,” gushed Lydia. “Thank you, Mr Darcy.”
Mr Bingley inquired whether Kitty and Mary should like to be included, but Mrs Bennet put an end to that idea rather quickly, having arranged three pairings to her own satisfaction.
As all were now in agreement, they worked out the particulars of the scheme. When the details were settled, Mr Bingley exclaimed, “Excellent! We shall make a jolly group. And I hope we can persuade Miss Elizabeth to share her tree-climbing story on the morrow!”
“I may be persuaded when I see those magnificent trees again. I am quite looking forward to it.” She paused. “I shall even forgo my usual morning walk so that I am not too weary.”
“Oh yes, we must have our guide in top form, mustn’t we, Darcy?”
“Indeed, we must.”
Jane and Elizabeth saw the gentlemen to the front door when they took their leave. Mr Bingley was all enthusiasm at the prospect of seeing them so soon again. He was particularly attentive to Jane in his farewells, such that she almost missed the strange grin that Elizabeth briefly directed at Mr Darcy. Almost, but not quite.