A Fair Prospect

by Cassandra Grafton

  The sudden blast of a horn from a passing carriage startled Darcy out of his introspection, and he looked around to take stock of his present position before turning on his heel and heading up the nearest street in the direction of Berkeley Square.

  Bingley’s pressing for information relative to Darcy’s interaction with Elizabeth had surfaced a myriad of feelings, but despite his friend’s persistence, Darcy found there was little more he could offer by way of information: yes, he believed Miss Bennet had continued to reside in Town when Miss Elizabeth arrived in Kent, but whether this remained the case, he could not answer.

  The only other suggestion he could offer was that it had been common knowledge in Hertfordshire that the Bennets had relations in Cheapside, and one might assume they were Miss Bennet’s hosts when she was in Town and that this would also be her sister’s destination on the following day.

  The only likely way to discover for certain if Miss Bennet had indeed returned home would be to call upon these relations – if they could establish who they were, and where they resided – and Bingley had determined that this must be his preliminary course of action. Darcy’s reminder of Bingley’s sisters’ call on Miss Bennet had eventually presented itself as the perfect solution, for they would know not only the family’s name, but would be familiar with the direction. Thus, Bingley had determined to send his sister, Caroline, to visit by way of penance, that she should take some part in effecting a reconciliation between them both by establishing for certain the lady’s whereabouts.

  Darcy frowned as he walked: he had some reservations about this, for he doubted not only that Miss Bingley would be amenable to such an undertaking but that, should she do so, her information could hardly be relied upon.

  With a sigh, Darcy forced the issue aside as he made his way along the west side of Berkeley Square, where a cluster of people milled around outside the row of elegant shops, in particular near Gunters, the renowned confectioners and café. He made his way around an elderly couple waiting for their carriage steps to be lowered and, knowing he delayed the inevitable, he allowed himself to be drawn to the window display of a nearby book shop. His eyes flickered with feigned interest over the new editions resting on velvet-covered stands, but even this poor attempt to distract himself failed, his gaze caught by a slim volume of translations in a green leather cover. Darcy himself had it on order at his usual bookseller, yet it was the author whose name resounded in his head.

  Elizabeth had been perusing, clearly with much enjoyment, a volume of William Cowper’s letters during her stay at Netherfield. He knew this because, upon her quitting the drawing room after one of their frequent debates, he had retrieved the book from where she had discarded it upon the couch. Elizabeth… How could he put her from his mind, when the smallest thing could draw her back?

  A wave of weariness flooded him as he struggled against the memories, and he forced himself to walk on, passing the windows of Gunters slowly, oblivious to the array of fine cakes on display. He must rally; he was barely minutes from home and though Georgiana would doubtless provide the necessary temporary distraction, he feared that some essence of his poor spirits might reach her.

  The jangling of a bell startled Darcy out of his reverie, and he almost collided with a young gentleman eagerly stepping out of the establishment, followed by a manservant bearing several gaily wrapped packages.

  “My apologies.” Darcy made a perfunctory bow, touching his hat.

  “No indeed, it is I who begs your pardon, Sir,” the shorter man bowed more formally, giving a quick, if somewhat distracted, smile before turning in the opposite direction, the servant following in his wake, and Darcy resumed his pace, soon turning the corner into the calm of Mount Street.

  ~o0o~

  Less than four miles distant across the city, in a charming townhouse fronting onto a wide thoroughfare in Cheapside, Mary Gardiner entered her sitting room and crossed to the writing desk, smiling warmly at her niece as she passed, who had looked up from her needlepoint and wished her ‘good evening’.

  “I fear the light is fading, Jane, dear. I have called for the lamps to be lit, but I would advise you to desist from your labours for now. Your mother will never forgive me if I permit you to strain those beautiful eyes!”

  “Dear Aunt,” Jane Bennet shook her head at the teasing reprimand. “Though I am more than happy to oblige you, for it does not hold my attention at all.”

  Mrs Gardiner settled herself at her desk, retrieving her pens, ink and a small, ivory-handled knife from the various compartments. “You are looking forward to being reunited with Lizzy.”

  “Oh, Aunt! I have missed her so very much. I am sure she is the remedy to fully lift me from my present melancholy.”

  Having removed the stopper from the inkbottle and peered carefully at her pens before selecting the one that promised the finer nib, Mrs Gardiner turned her gaze upon her niece.

  “Indeed, yet we should not overlook the fact that the hoped for remedy is guilty of being a contributor to the ailment! Had she not despatched you to our care so expeditiously, and then absconded to pastures new, you might not be feeling her loss so acutely!”

  Jane laughed softly, but began to take particular care in stowing away her threads and needles.

  Conscious as they both were that Elizabeth was not the only loss of society that Jane felt so deeply, Mrs Gardiner sought a distraction. “Well, then we must thank dear Nicholas, must we not?”

  “How so?” Jane got to her feet, her sewing basket clutched to her middle, and she walked over to where her aunt sat.

  “My dear girl – is not your sister curtailing her adventures in Kent that my Godson might have his demands met and see her before he is obliged to return to the West Country?” She paused for a moment, smiling up at her eldest niece. “But I must own that I am happy to concede to his wishes, for I, like you, look forward to being in company with our Lizzy sooner than anticipated.”

  Jane’s eyes drifted to the open letter upon her aunt’s desk. “And now we are to be reunited with Serena also!”

  “Indeed! And I must attend to my reply, for she is no doubt all suspense over how soon we can receive her!” She laughed as her eyes scanned her sister’s letter once more. “Serena does seem most anxious to secure some time with your sister; I trust she appreciates she may have to share her attentions!”

  Jane smiled. “Dear Lizzy. She will find herself so in demand she will not know which way to turn, for wishing to satisfy us all at once.”

  “Aye, and I foresee Nicholas will have to curb his impatience somewhat. Serena may be a quiet little thing, but she is possessed of an iron will when the notion takes her!” Mrs Gardiner shook her head in amused affection, conscious of a real sense of happiness at the thought of being reunited all at once with a group of young people who had been as like her own offspring as any could be.

  Jane walked over to the dresser and returned her sewing basket to the shelf, then paused on her way back across the room by a long side table. “Perhaps you should seize this opportunity to update your collection.” She nodded towards the array of miniatures nestled on the dark red velvet runner, all done by her aunt’s hand over the years.

  Mrs Gardiner got to her feet and joined her. As well as images of her half-sister at various stages of her development, there were small portraits of all the Bennet daughters, albeit the majority were of the two eldest, and all the Harington offspring, including dear little Maria, who had succumbed to the fever – sadly, her baby brother had passed before any such likeness could be taken.

  Letting out a short laugh, Mrs Gardiner pointed to some of her first attempts, those of Jane and Nicholas before they had reached the age of two. “Oh dear – upon reflection, I fear my talent when you were all younger lacked direction. The most recent ones are certainly more accurate renditions!”

  “Dear Aunt, how can you say so? Do you not recall with what pleasure we viewed each new offering over the years?” Jane leaned across the table an
d picked up a particular favourite of hers of Elizabeth at around six years of age.

  “Hmm, I do. I also recall how much one can appreciate an attempt at a likeness without understanding its relation to art!” She peered at the miniature that Jane still held in her hand. “I am sure you recollect how the original differed from that particular portrait?”

  Jane smiled before replacing it on the cloth. “You are too severe upon yourself.”

  Mrs Gardiner laughed. “And you, Jane, are too generous, as we all know full well. The finished version fails to depict the truth of the model, who had, as you may recall, disarrayed hair and sported a smudge upon her nose from her exploits in the garden!” She turned to cast her eyes over the table once more. “At least I may suppose that, should the time present itself, I will do better justice to Nicholas and Elizabeth. Their inability to be still for any length of time combined with my lack of expertise really does render their early portraits as unlike each other as anything, and…”

  She broke off as her gaze swept the table once more, and she frowned, but just then there came a knock upon the door, and both ladies turned as the servant entered, bearing a taper and a supply of fresh candles.

  Beckoning him in, Mrs Gardiner glanced at the clock and, realising the lateness of the hour, hurried over to resume her seat at the desk. Jane picked up the last of her belongings, and came over to plant a kiss upon her aunt’s cheek.

  “I shall leave you to your letter-writing.”

  Mrs Gardiner watched her niece leave and then turned once more to face her desk. Reaching for a fresh sheet of parchment, she glanced at her sister’s letter before dipping her pen into the ink and beginning to write.

  Chapter Twenty

  By the time Darcy crossed the threshold of his home, it wanted barely an hour until dinner and, divesting himself of his hat and coat into the hands of the waiting footman, he headed straight for the stairs, but before he had reached the first step, he was forestalled by his housekeeper who had just then emerged from the dining room.

  “Good evening, Sir,” Mrs Wainwright bobbed a small curtsey in greeting. “The Colonel has retired to his room to prepare for dinner, and Mrs Annesley advises that Miss Darcy is awaiting your return in the small sitting room.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Wainwright.”

  Darcy climbed the stairs, pausing at the top to send a fleeting, regretful glance towards the staircase to the second floor, longing for the refuge above. Then, he turned his steps along the landing towards the sitting room frequented by his sister. Much as he desired to see her dear face, it was of paramount importance to him that no hint escape of his troubled spirits, for she had suffered enough of late.

  Darcy paused for a moment as he reached the closed door, staring unseeingly at the panelled wood in front of him. Before he had left for Rosings, he had welcomed all the signs of the return of the young sister he knew: increasing bouts of enjoyment of a well-loved piece of music, an appreciation for the arrival of spring and the resurrection of her affectionate nature – yet he could still picture quite vividly the times he had caught Georgiana’s sombre gaze upon him, and how she had quickly looked away upon catching his eye. Her large eyes had seemed graver somehow, and occasionally they reflected a wariness, as if there was something that yet preyed upon her mind.

  “Fitzwilliam!” With a start, Darcy stepped backwards as the door swung open, and before he could respond, his sister had let out a cry of delight and thrown herself into his arms. He hugged her tightly, the laugh that had risen within him stalling in his throat as he held her.

  Closing his eyes against a sudden rush of emotion, Darcy prayed that Georgiana would detect nothing amiss. To be held once more in the comforting arms of a loved one had suddenly opened up within him a well of despair, and for a moment he was lost, unable to do more than cradle her head against his shoulder and rock her gently to and fro as he struggled to salvage his composure.

  “It is so good to have you home, dear Brother,” Georgiana murmured, her grip around his waist tightening. Unable to respond for a second, Darcy dropped a kiss upon her hair. Then, he cleared his throat and released her gently, quickly brushing a hand across his eyes.

  “My humblest apologies, Georgie. I had not anticipated my visit with Bingley taking up so much time. Are you well?”

  His sister studied his face for a moment; then she smiled and stood aside so that he could enter the room. “I am well now that you are here. I will own that I had become impatient to see you, but now you have returned I find I can forgive you anything.”

  Darcy smiled grimly as he followed Georgiana into her sitting room. First Bingley, now Georgiana – what bad fortune that Elizabeth was too far distant to bestow such similar mercy… Darcy blinked, and shook his head. To allow Elizabeth any purchase now would be counter-productive, and he forced all thought of her aside, focusing his attention upon his sister.

  In unspoken mutual agreement they took up their usual seats by the hearth. Darcy rested his head against the leather chair and stretched his legs out in front of the fire. Unhappy he may be, but it was a comfort to be home.

  “Was the journey tiring, Fitz?”

  Darcy straightened up. “No – no, I am merely content with being here, with you.”

  Georgiana smiled, and he found himself returning it as the tightness that bound his chest loosened its grip slightly.

  “There is nothing amiss, Fitz?”

  “Err, no – no, there is not. Should there be?”

  Georgiana shrugged lightly. “Your precipitous departure to see Mr Bingley. I was concerned that some matter of urgency had arisen. I trust all is well in that quarter?”

  Darcy shook his head. “I merely had some pressing business with Bingley that could not be delayed; but I assure you, all is well.”

  His sister smiled and sat back in her chair. “And did you have a pleasant visit with Aunt Catherine this year – I must own to no little surprise that you extended your stay, Brother; it was most unanticipated - you must tell me all!”

  Darcy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Err, indeed. You… did Richard not enlighten you?”

  Georgiana let out a huff of breath and rolled her eyes. “You well know Cousin Richard, Fitz. He will talk until the cows come home, yet reveal nothing of import,” she paused, frowning. “I believe his response implied that some unforeseen circumstance had arisen; that until you had…” Georgiana paused again, then added, “… that until you had brought the matter to a confrontation you had been unable to leave.”

  Conscious that his sister looked at him expectantly, Darcy leaned back in his seat again, trying to push away the memories that would intrude.

  “Brother? It was nothing too serious, I trust? Was she being particularly difficult this year?”

  He attempted a smile. “Do not trouble yourself, Georgie. Aunt Catherine is much as she ever was; there is nothing more to it than Richard says.”

  Reluctant to promote further discourse of his time in Kent, Darcy sought a change of subject. “Bingley sends his regards. He intends to call upon us on the morrow.”

  “Mr Bingley is not joining us for dinner?”

  “No – no, he had a previous engagement to dine in Grosvenor Street, but when he calls in the morning he hopes to be in a position to advise whether or not he will be able to make any stay with us.”

  “But he always resides with us when you are in Town! You are not planning to remove to Pemberley? I thought we were not to travel north until closer to harvest time?”

  “No…” Darcy paused. The temptation of Pemberley was strong, being a long way from any southern county, be it Kent or Hertfordshire. Perhaps journeying north would aid his recovery…

  “Fitz?” Georgiana seemed to be studying him with the familiar troubled expression.

  “Bingley’s plans are unfixed at present, as to whether he will remain in Town a while or return to his estate.”

  “But Miss Bingley seemed quite certain that he was fixed in Town for
the duration. She even hinted…” Georgiana blushed. “Forgive me, Fitz. It is not my place to speculate or comment, but she has implied that her brother will be giving up his estate in the country.”

  Darcy shook his head. “The lady is quite mistaken, my dear.” He smiled gently to reassure her that her words had not been out of place. “I had best leave you so that I might refresh myself. Shall I call for you and escort you downstairs?”

  “Please!”

  “In a half hour? It will perchance give us a moment’s respite before Richard joins us?” They both got to their feet, and Georgiana nodded as she stepped instinctively into his embrace once more. He ruffled the top of her hair, and she batted his hand away with a laugh.

  “Fitz! Must I begin anew to order my curls?”

  Darcy smiled down at her as she stepped away from him and turned to peer in the mirror over the mantelpiece.

  “You will do very well as you are. I will be with you directly,” and with that, he turned and left the room.

  ~o0o~

  Bingley was late, and he knew he had only himself to blame. Ever since Darcy had left him, he had been wandering about his rooms in a state of distraction, and Overton, his valet, had clearly been running out of patience as he finally managed to cajole and coerce his master through the necessary preparations for an evening out. Recalling his valet’s resigned expression as he tried valiantly to fasten the neck cloth of his fidgeting and restless charge, Bingley could suppress his merriment no longer, and let out a loud chuckle.

  By the time he headed down the main staircase into the hotel lobby, Bingley was almost at a run, and he beamed happily at a rather sour looking elderly gentleman whom he passed on the stairs, before hurrying across the entrance hall.

  “Have a pleasant evening, Sir.”