With a groan he dropped his head into his hands. Finally, he understood his friend’s reaction on the previous day: he had been right at first not to advise Bingley of Miss Bennet’s presence in Town, for the agony of being so near yet unable to justify a call combined with the longing to give in to the temptation was nigh on unbearable.
A firm rap upon the door roused him, and he sat up, running a hand through his hair as he called, “Enter.”
The door opened to admit Mrs Wainwright, who dropped a brief curtsey before responding to Darcy’s beckoning hand. In her wake came a young servant, who cast a nervous glance at the housekeeper before advancing towards the desk and depositing the tray she carried before bobbing a curtsey and fleeing.
Darcy studied the offering silently for a moment – a pot of hot tea and, when he uncovered the accompanying dishes, a plate of coddled eggs and some finely sliced ham – before raising his eyes to his devoted housekeeper.
“Is this an invitation or an order, Mrs Wainwright?”
The woman opposite him placed her hands upon her hips and assumed a fierce expression, belied by the sparkle in her eyes.
“Now, Master Fitzwilliam, you must partake of some nourishment.” She spoke with the familiarity of having been long in service to the family, reverting to a more informal address in the absence of other company.
“But I attended breakfast with my cousin!”
“Aye, Master, that you did. Attended, but did not partake. It cannot escape me when only one used plate is returned to the kitchen, and it was hardly likely to be the good Colonel who abstained. I thought you had a mind to eat later with Miss Georgiana, but I found she had breakfasted with only Mrs Annesley in attendance.”
Darcy failed to suppress a wave of resigned amusement. He had never been able to get anything by Mrs Wainwright, even when he had been a young lad. He reached for the teapot and poured himself a cup, adding a dash of milk.
“Now you just keep that plate covered and warm for a few more minutes, Master, for the gentleman outside would have a word with you, if you please.”
Darcy frowned at his housekeeper’s retreating back, but before he could conjecture further, Bingley presented himself in the doorway. Getting to his feet, Darcy greeted his friend and gestured for him to take a seat before dropping back into his own chair.
“Shall I order you some tea?”
Bingley shook his head; then, as if unable to help himself, a wide smile spread across his features. “You will never believe what has happened!”
Taking a drink from his cup, Darcy assumed his friend would expound upon this, but he merely perched himself on the edge of a chair, clearly struggling not to fidget, his eyes shining brightly.
Darcy felt his lips twitch. “Nor shall I, if you never share it.”
“Oh! Yes, yes of course!” Bingley laughed, “Forgive me. I am a little stunned by my own good fortune!” Then, clearly unable to handle the challenge of sitting still, he leapt to his feet and leaned on the desk, fixing Darcy with a bright glance.
“I have seen her! I have seen Miss Bennet!”
Darcy sat up instinctively as the words fell from Bingley’s mouth and placed his cup carefully on its saucer, but before he could voice the obvious question, Bingley continued.
“Grateful though I am for your cousin’s inspiration, I had no need to venture to Grosvenor Street mews, for I learned of Miss Bennet’s whereabouts at breakfast. Who would have thought it?”
“Who indeed,” muttered Darcy, struggling with a momentary vision of either a repentant Caroline Bingley arriving at the Pulteney to reveal all she knew, or Hurst’s coachman himself venturing to partake of a morsel as he delivered the welcome news. “How…”
Bingley straightened up, his grin widening, and announced as though certain it would provide enlightenment, “Harington is intimate with the Gardiners! Is it not fortuitous?”
“It could well be, but I must own to being unsure as to how.”
“Forgive me.” Bingley chuckled. “I cannot seem to think straight. Harington happened to be explaining,” he paused. “I did say that he and I were to breakfast, did I not? Anyway, he was due to make a call upon his Godmother and her family this morning, and happened to mention that said family hailed from Hertfordshire.” He paused again and started to pace to and fro, his eyes darting here and there about the room as he related the events of the morning, “I went on to say that I currently had an estate in that fair county, and lo and behold, Netherfield proved the link, for we soon discovered that he was entirely familiar with Longbourn, being so intimately connected with the Gardiner family!”
Darcy leaned back in his chair as his confusion deepened, but as Bingley had clearly unfinished his tale, he held his tongue; the questions could wait.
“Of course, once I explained that I had a more than passing acquaintance with the Bennets, being a close neighbour, he announced that Miss Bennet presently resided with her aunt and uncle and that Miss Elizabeth was due to arrive this very day. He invited me – nay, insisted – that I accompany him upon his call – I could hardly tell him of what had occurred in the past and decline the invitation – and to be honest, nor did I wish to!”
Assailed by a wave of longing, Darcy stared at his friend. Was Elizabeth even now just a few miles across Town? He cleared his throat and ventured, “And – and how went your visit?”
For a moment, Bingley’s smile faltered. He passed a hand through his hair and stopped his pacing.
“I – well, to be honest, Darcy, I do not know. A part of me is so full of joy at having discovered her, at having seen her face again – she is even more beautiful than I remember.” Bingley threw himself back into his chair, all signs of agitation now fully suppressed. “But – well, she seemed somewhat ill at ease; she was rather quiet – it is to be expected, I suppose, yet for every word she exchanged with me, she must have given tenfold to Harington.”
Conscious that, even against his better judgement, his every sense screamed for news of Elizabeth, Darcy fixed his gaze upon Bingley attempting to decipher everything his friend had revealed.
“So these Gardiners are the elusive aunt and uncle?” Bingley nodded, and satisfied that he finally made some sense of his friend’s outburst, Darcy added, “We should assume that Miss Bennet was surprised to see you. I trust there was no way to alert her to your presence other than you simply being announced with Harington?”
Bingley shook his head. “If anything, it was worse. Harington is intimate with the family, and thus there was no announcement. Once through the door, he took me straight to the drawing room. Yet Mrs Gardiner – the aunt – welcomed me warmly.”
Darcy suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at this. If Mrs Philips was any indication of Elizabeth’s aunts, he had no doubt that this London version would be of similar ilk. Bingley had always been far more tolerant than he over such fawning civilities… then, realising that his friend was still talking, Darcy strove to concentrate on what he was saying.
“… a most gracious lady, and most understanding – or so it seemed – when I made the point to both her and Miss Bennet – not that Miss Bennet would meet my eye, but it had to be said, do you not think?”
“I am sorry, Bingley. What was the point that you made?”
“That I had only learned this very morning of her being at her aunt and uncle’s home in Town, of course!”
“Ah.” Darcy reflected upon this for a second. “And do you feel it was accepted?”
For a moment, Bingley studied the toes of his boots. “Well, Mrs Gardiner did express some polite surprise, I must own. Miss Bennet seemed more interested in listening to Harington, but I hope that she heard me. Mrs Gardiner mentioned my sisters’ visit.” Bingley raised his eyes and met Darcy’s gaze. “I can only imagine how that went, but I apologised for being unaware, that somehow it had slipped their mind to advise me of it. Whether I am believed or not,” Bingley raised both hands and shrugged, “the words have been spoken.”
&nbs
p; “And,” Darcy hesitated, “and Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Is she – has she joined her family yet?”
“She had yet to arrive by the time of my departure, though expected imminently.” Bingley smiled mistily. “Miss Bennet is clearly greatly anticipating her sister’s arrival from the country, for whenever her name arose – which occurred frequently – her eyes brightened and she smiled so much more. Harington was all for waiting it out – Miss Elizabeth’s arrival. But Mrs Gardiner persuaded him to return to dine instead, and Darcy, I have been invited to attend after-dinner drinks, that I might make the acquaintance of Miss Bennet’s uncle. Do you think it is a good sign?”
Darcy’s thoughts immediately turned again to Elizabeth, but then he frowned as the realisation dawned that he had become somewhat irritated with the repetition of the name of Harington, especially in connection with the Bennets.
“This Harington – I take it you had not seen him since your establishment in Hertfordshire, else this coincidence might have come to light earlier?”
“Harington? Not seen… no, no. He is not really a close acquaintance. We happened across each other last night at the Pulteney. His brother – the elder, not the younger – there are three of them, you see.” Darcy raised a brow. “Well, quite. Anyway, his brother and I were at Cambridge together, and I met Harington – Nicholas Harington, that is – through him.”
Darcy leaned back in his chair as his friend talked, recalling his cousin’s notion of the previous evening that he recalled the name of Harington for some reason. It seemed to trigger a vague memory with Darcy, yet he could not place it, certainly in recent recollection.
“Darcy – what do you think about my returning so soon? I do not wish to impose upon Miss Bennet, but I had little incentive to refuse such a kind invitation, and to be certain, though she did not meet my eye, she did exchange a smile with her aunt on my acceptance.” Bingley stopped, frowning. “At least, I think perhaps she did. It may have been coincidence, or just anticipation of her sister’s arrival.”
Conscious of a niggling dissatisfaction, Darcy got to his feet and walked over to the window. He had to acknowledge that he envied Bingley his easy manner and his swift acceptance into the fold of the Bennets’ family, well aware that there would have been a time not so long ago when he would have scorned the thought of spending an evening in Cheapside.
With a start, he became aware that Bingley had come to join him at the window, and for a moment, they both stared out into the garden, which had become so green during his stay in the country.
“Come to Gracechurch Street with me, Darcy.”
“I cannot.”
“Nonsense – you can do as you choose.”
“Then I choose not.”
Darcy turned away and walked back towards his desk, Bingley following in his wake. He felt weary, defeated and empty inside.
“Miss Bennet will welcome you, I am certain. She is all that is good and kind, and you said you had renewed your acquaintance with Miss Elizabeth in Kent. Thus, they are hardly strangers to you.” Bingley smiled. “I know the Bennets are not your favourite people, but you can hardly escape the acquaintance now!”
Elizabeth… the temptation to see her almost overwhelmed him, but he would not go. He knew full well that the best thing he could do was keep out of her way, that firstly, she might not have to endure the awkwardness of his company and secondly, that she might not fear he would intervene during these tentative first steps of a renewal of acquaintance between her sister and his friend.
“Forgive me, Bingley, but I must insist. The Gardiners and I are not acquainted. It is one thing to arrive unannounced when accompanying someone who is intimate with the family, but with your own association with them but hours old, it would be in extremely poor taste on my part.”
Bingley held up a hand.
“As you wish. But if I succeed in securing Miss Bennet’s hand one day, you will be unable to escape an introduction to her relatives.”
The misunderstanding suited Darcy’s purpose, and he chose not to enlighten his friend. “Now that you are secure in the knowledge of Miss Bennet’s whereabouts, can I prevail upon you to take up your usual rooms here? They are at your disposal, should you so wish.”
“I would be delighted to accept your offer. Let me away to the Pulteney directly to give Overton the necessary instructions. As I am due to be out this evening, I shall aim to join you before the midday hour on the morrow if that is convenient?”
Darcy walked with Bingley towards the door.
“Perfectly so. I have no fixed plans.”
“I shall see myself out. Pagett will no doubt be stood to attention with my hat before I am but two paces down the hallway, and besides, Mrs Wainwright will not thank me if I keep you from your meal – she insisted that I not prevent you from partaking!”
Chapter Twenty Four
Darcy closed the door behind Bingley and leaned his back against it. The ache he had been carrying in his breast since Sunday showed no sign of abating and every mention of the name Bennet and its subsequent connotations caused his head to reel. He tried to force thoughts of Elizabeth away again, and with renewed determination he pushed himself from the door and walked back to his desk, sitting down heavily and throwing the now cold platter of eggs a look of utter distaste.
Yet before he could settle upon a distraction from his thoughts, there came another knock upon the door, and once again Darcy observed Mrs Wainwright entering the room, followed by the timid servant, who removed the untouched tray, but not before she had deposited another in front of him. Merely raising an admonishing brow at Darcy, the housekeeper shepherded the maid out of the room before standing aside to admit Mrs Annesley.
Darcy got to his feet as the lady walked briskly over to his desk and dropped a quick curtsey.
“Good afternoon, Mr Darcy.”
Darcy returned her greeting, indicating that she take a seat.
“I thank you, Sir, but I shall not take up your time. I am here merely at Miss Darcy’s request.”
Darcy concealed his surprise and bade her continue. Mrs Annesley looked a little awkward, but she met Darcy’s gaze firmly. “Miss Darcy has advised – that is, Miss Darcy has suggested that we postpone our walk today – if you are in agreement, of course, Sir.”
“Is she unwell?”
“Not at all, Sir. Miss Darcy is in perfect health.”
“I see.” Darcy, who did not see at all, frowned, mystified as to why his sister would wish to postpone her daily exercise, something he knew she took much enjoyment from. “Are you in agreement, Mrs Annesley? Does the rearrangement inconvenience you in any way?”
“Sir, I am at Miss Darcy’s disposal. Whether her period of exercise falls at a particular time or not makes little difference to me. I am, after all, here for your sister’s benefit, not my own.”
Darcy welcomed the honesty of her response. Mrs Annesley had proven herself a valuable companion to his sister, and the improvement in Georgiana’s spirits that he had noted upon his return from Rosings was surely testament to that good lady’s influence.
“Sir? Miss Darcy also requested that you join her for afternoon tea in the small sitting room, at a quarter after 3 o’clock,” and without awaiting a response, she performed a smart curtsey before excusing herself from the room.
Somewhat bewildered, Darcy sank back into his chair, staring at the now closed door to his study. Almost unaware of his actions, he lifted his cup and drank his tea, his brow furrowed in contemplation.
It was uncharacteristic, to say the least, to receive a summons from his sister, however politely worded the invitation – and somewhat amusing. He supposed it to be a sign of her growing up. His gaze fell upon the mound of paperwork that still littered his desk, and he studied it for a moment, then glanced over at the clock. He had ample time to clear this backlog if he applied himself before his tea with Georgiana. He poured himself a fresh drink and lifted the lid on the platter that accompanied it to reveal a selectio
n of cold meats, cheese, fruit and a basket of neatly cut bread. He looked again at the pile of post. Then, shrugging his shoulders, he pushed the paperwork aside and pulling the tray closer he turned his attention to selecting some bread and cheese.
~o0o~
The bells of the church of St Clements were tolling the hour of three by the time Elizabeth was finally ensconced in the room she always shared with Jane whenever they had the good fortune to be in Gracechurch Street together.
With a sigh of contentment, she looked about the room. The maid had finished unpacking her belongings, but Elizabeth had asked her to leave the soiled dress and coat in her care for the time being for she wished to consult her aunt upon the best remedy for them.
Then, having finished arranging her personal belongings to her satisfaction, she picked up her nightgown and deposited it upon her pillow before walking over to the window and gazing down into the busy street below.
Elizabeth smiled to herself as she recalled her welcome from her aunt and sister. It felt good to be amongst them again, and to heed all the potential distractions of Town. She had, however, been completely unprepared for the news that Jane and her aunt had imparted as soon as they were settled down to a cup of tea.
At first, she had felt all the shock of Mr Bingley’s visit. Her immediate thought had been that Mr Darcy had had a hand in it, but as Jane related the facts she realised she gave him credit where none was due. The sense of disappointment that this engendered was a surprise to her, but she had forcibly put it aside as she attempted to focus her attention on her aunt and her sister’s description of their morning callers. She did wonder, though, how Mr Darcy might react when he discovered that, despite the machinations of Miss Bingley and himself, his friend had managed to seek Jane out.
A slight disturbance on the landing roused her from her thoughts, and at the sound of the chamber door opening, Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, greeting her sister with a smile as she came in.
“There you are! Aunt is preparing some fresh tea and bade me fetch you. Are you ready to come down?”
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