With a laugh, Elizabeth shook her head. “I think the likelihood of Nicholas confining himself to his estate in the foreseeable future is negligible.”
“I do hope Mr Bingley was not too shocked by the banter between you and Nicholas, Lizzy. For someone unfamiliar with the relationship between our families, it must seem quite… quite…”
“Forward? Lacking in propriety?”
“No! Not entirely. It is just…” Jane sat up and wriggled up the bed until she could lean back against the headboard. “I fear I may have been reckless in contributing to the tale of your youthful indiscretion.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Dear Jane! You truly are too good. How could you imagine that you were reckless? Besides, I doubt the rather dubious behaviour of any of your siblings will cause Mr Bingley any undue concern.”
She sat up, plumping up her pillows before reclining against them next to Jane. “And Nicholas has been as a brother to us both, for all that we were not raised in the same household. I am quite certain the level of comfort that exists between us caused minimal distress. Indeed, Mr Bingley seemed as though he would wish to be part of it.”
A sigh emanated from her sister, and Elizabeth turned her head to observe her. “I would not wish to give Mr Bingley the wrong impression.”
Elizabeth could not help but laugh. “Dear Jane – what impression would you wish to give, precisely?”
“Why, that we meet as mere common acquaintances!” She threw her sister an anxious look. “I find it so difficult to meet his eye without betraying my feelings and you know how much I wish to guard myself from that. Oh Lizzy,” Jane grasped her sister’s hand tightly and turned to face her. “I am struggling to maintain an air of indifference.”
Suppressing the urge to snort, Elizabeth settled for rolling her eyes. “You are exuding disinterest to any but those closest to you. I wonder if perhaps you should cease the attempt.” Jane shook her head, but Elizabeth continued, “Perhaps it is time to have some faith in your sister.”
Seeing the puzzled look upon Jane’s face, Elizabeth smiled. “As I said when Caroline Bingley sent you that letter, Mr Bingley is in love with you.”
“Yet if it was so back in Hertfordshire, then why have we not heard from him in all this time?” Jane’s gaze became clouded as if caught in some memory. “And now he is moving in with his friend... do you not also recall that part of Caroline’s letter? Both families desire a connection between them, in the form of an alliance between Mr Bingley and Miss Darcy.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Miss Darcy is but a child, Jane. She is almost of an age with Lydia. All we are privy to is Caroline Bingley’s desire for such a connection. Besides, Mr Darcy would never permit a potential suitor for his sister to reside under his roof. As for Mr Bingley’s not seeking you out, you heard from his own lips, not once but twice yesterday, that he was unaware of your presence in Town. He is as honest as the day is long. He told no lie; and his pleasure in being re-acquainted with you is writ plain for all to see – and indeed, Jane, you would have seen it for yourself, had you but looked with a little more frequency!”
“But-”
“Be sensible, Jane!”
“I fear I have forgot how.”
“Impossible!”
Jane laughed reluctantly. Giving her a hug, Elizabeth then sat back, her hands on her sister’s shoulders.
“Now listen to your Aunt Lizzy. The next time we encounter Mr Bingley – and you cannot fail to understand that he intends to continue the acquaintance – you pay him some attention. The poor man is positively begging for it!”
Jane could not help but smile as her sister gave her a gentle shake before releasing her; then her expression sobered once more. “But Lizzy – what of Mr Bingley’s taking up residence with his friend.”
Elizabeth felt a flicker of apprehension pass through her. “What of it?”
Jane shrugged her shoulders. “Perchance there may be occasion for us to meet with him. If Mr Bingley, as you say, intends to court our society, then it stands to reason that we may encounter his closest friend – do you not think?”
Elizabeth sighed. Denial was hardly more likely to make it impossible.
“Lizzy?” Jane spoke hesitantly. “I trust – I do hope that you will not mind? I am full aware that you and Mr Darcy are far from the best of friends.”
Letting out a huff of laughter that held little humour, Elizabeth dropped her gaze to her toes. Friends? She and Mr Darcy as friends was something she could never imagine – too much had gone between them for something so tame as friendship.
“No, you are quite right. We are not the best of friends. But,” she raised her head and forced a smile, “I will own that by the time of my departure from Kent, we had progressed to being able to hold a conversation in complete civility! Do not concern yourself, dearest. I promise to behave and be perfectly cordial should our paths cross.”
“Oh yes! Dear Lizzy – how could you forget to mention your being in company with Mr Darcy when telling us all about your sojourn yesterday!”
Swinging her legs around, Elizabeth got up and walked over towards the window, saying as casually as possible, “I did not think that it would be of much relevance. Besides, we had far more interesting things to talk of.”
Jane had also risen and even now headed towards the dresser holding the pitcher of water, and Elizabeth turned to pull the curtains aside to look out upon a morning of thick cloud overhead. She studied the greyness of the sky, assessing the likelihood of a downpour and the chance of taking some air, but her attempt to distract herself failed miserably. The ominous threat of rain merely reminded her of Sunday and a certain gentlemen.
Was an encounter with Mr Darcy imminent? Would he be cognisant of the danger himself? And how would such an occurrence affect him? When she had last seen him, his mood had been influenced by the proximity to Sunday’s unpleasantness and also by the shock of her unexpected presence at Rosings. But now? He would have had ample time to reflect upon her cavalier dismissal of his offer and her unfounded slurs against his character.
Elizabeth chewed her lip. Not so long ago, the notion of invoking Mr Darcy’s displeasure had concerned her little; she had cared nothing for his approbation and had even welcomed his perceived disapproval of her. Yet now… now, what did she feel? It was galling to realise that she had no answer.
~o0o~
Having risen early to see his cousin off on his mission, Darcy had chosen to retire to his study until a more civilised hour, attempting to concentrate on the paperwork that had failed to grasp his attention on the previous day.
With grim determination, he worked through the remaining piles of correspondence until the only items in need of his attention, some two hours later, were the stacks of invitations that had accumulated in his absence. As these held as little interest as ever for him, it was with considerable relief that he responded to Mrs Wainwright’s summons for him to attend his sister in the breakfast room, and now, as the meal drew to a close, he pushed his chair back and walked over to one of the windows to finish his cup of tea in silent contemplation of an almost deserted Mount Street.
Georgiana’s unspoken affection and support for him had been almost more of a trial than his cousin’s persistence in making him speak out. They had made gentle small talk throughout the meal, yet all the while he could detect the compassion upon her face, and the blatant intention of distracting him with any possible subject she could call to mind. In his turn, determined that she not be concerned for him, he had made every effort to converse with her, whatever the topic she raised, and had found the entire exercise exhausting. Yet he was relieved that she had specifically requested that he accompany her on her daily walk once her music practice was over, and it was this intended foray outside that had drawn him to the window.
“There is a deal of cloud about, Georgie.”
Darcy studied the grey skies for a moment, before turning to regard his sister in her place at the table where she finished
her meal. “You are certain that you wish to risk a walk? We could always take the carriage out if you prefer.” Georgiana wiped her fingers on her napkin and got to her feet, coming to join him at the window, and as she too peered up at the rather heavy looking sky, he rested a hand on her shoulder. “Shall we wait to see how things fare once your practice is over?”
She nodded, still staring out of the window, and he felt her twist under his hand as she leaned forward and suddenly exclaimed, “Why, it is Mr Bingley! He is come!”
Darcy followed the direction of her gaze to see a familiar carriage drawing up outside the house. He walked over to replace his cup on the dresser, prepared to go and welcome his friend, when a thought struck him that stopped him in mid stride. Bingley was, in all likelihood, going to be full of his evening in Cheapside. In truth, Darcy was torn between wanting to hear everything and wishing to know nothing, that he might not regret his own absence, but it was not this thought that gripped him as he stood motionless near the dresser.
How could it have escaped his attention that some of the first words out of Bingley’s mouth were likely to contain the name Bennet? And how could he circumvent it?
Chapter Thirty Three
Darcy glanced quickly in his sister’s direction, disconcerted to see a look of grave concern upon her features.
“Brother? What is it? What troubles you?”
He frowned, conscious of the disturbance out in the hallway that indicated Bingley’s arrival in the house. He had no notion how to avoid the imminent situation arising, frustrated with himself for not considering the impact of his friend’s residence and aware that a brief, carefully worded explanation of Bingley’s acquaintance with the family would probably have sufficed for Georgiana, but that now there was no time to deliver it.
He shook his head. “All is well, Georgie.” There was no time for further discourse, as the door was pushed aside and Bingley entered.
“Good morning, Bingley. You are very prompt.”
“Darcy, how do you do? And Miss Darcy,” Bingley bowed in the latter’s direction, before turning a smile upon them both. “Forgive my early arrival. Overton was so expeditious in his packing that I found myself at a loose end, so I summoned my carriage and was on my way forthwith. I trust that it is no intrusion?”
Darcy shook his head, attempting to forestall his own anxiety. “You could never intrude, Bingley, and as always I would ask that you treat our home as your own.” He indicated the nearby table. “Do you wish for sustenance?”
“Indeed no – I thank you. I am well fed, but would not say no to a cup of tea.”
Georgiana touched her brother’s arm lightly. “If you will excuse me, Fitz, I will repair to the music room for an hour or so.”
Relief at the temporary respite from what could have been a difficult moment swept through Darcy. “Of course. I shall be in my study when you are finished.”
Georgiana made her way towards the door, and Bingley turned an eager countenance upon his friend, who had walked over to pull the bell beside the fireplace.
“I will not take up too much of your time, Darcy. I have an appointment with my attorney in a half hour. I am most anxious, though, to speak with you regarding Miss Bennet.”
Unsurprisingly, Georgiana’s hand stilled on the door handle, and she threw a startled look towards her brother, who gave a slight shake of his head, but before he could stall her, she said, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
Bingley turned a surprised countenance towards her. “No, Miss Jane Bennet.”
Georgiana’s eyes grew wider. “And does Miss Jane Bennet have a sister?”
Glancing over at Darcy, Bingley laughed. “Your brother would say she has all too many!”
“I will see you after your practice, Georgiana,” the note of authority in Darcy’s voice was somewhat belied by the uneasy expression upon his face, and he could well observe from his sister’s face that she was ill-disposed to curb her curiosity until a more appropriate time. They stared at each for a moment in silence as Bingley moved to take up a seat at the table, and then the door opened to reveal a servant. He was soon dispatched with the master’s request for more hot water, but the distraction had been sufficient for Darcy to gather his wits and the firmness in his countenance must have been adequately conveyed for, with a resigned sigh, Georgiana muttered “I am all anticipation, Brother,” and left the room.
Blowing out a breath of relief, Darcy turned to join Bingley, whose countenance had sobered somewhat as he idly twirled a teaspoon in his fingers.
“You were quite right, Darcy, in your caution to me yesterday. Miss Bennet clearly harbours some – not resentment so much as misgivings. I suspect she doubts my motive in renewing the acquaintance.”
Taking a seat, Darcy frowned.
“I am sorry to hear it.”
Bingley toyed with the teaspoon for a moment longer before casting it aside, and Darcy could feel guilt welling up inside him; his friend did not deserve to be suffering such uncertainty, and he felt his own part in it deeply.
“It grieves me that it did not go well, Bingley, but I must reiterate that which I related to you on Tuesday: Miss Elizabeth Bennet is adamant that her sister’s hopes have been disappointed and that Miss Bennet returned your affections most sincerely.”
Bingley lifted his shoulders and then let them fall again.
“I do not doubt your word; and I appreciate your attempt to rally me; I fear I little deserve it.” He ran a hand through his hair and then picked up the spoon again. “Perchance it is not so dire. I am merely impatient. Miss Bennet was perfectly civil – even friendly on occasion, but I did not feel anywhere near as secure in her returning my regard as I once did. The evening progressed better than the morning visit, but I believe the hurt I unwittingly caused has come back upon me tenfold. I shall have to work hard to overcome her wariness.”
“I am so sorry.”
“Let it be, Darcy. I allowed it to happen. If she cannot forgive me, it is my fault alone – but I will not give up without effort. She is worth every ounce of it.” Bingley laughed but without much humour. “Perchance I should take a leaf out of Harington’s book.”
“Your friend? In what way?”
“He has such easy manners,” Bingley paused, clearly wrapped in a memory from the previous evening, and Darcy almost let out a snort of disbelief. That Bingley of all people should envy another’s easy manners struck him as nothing but ridiculous.
“Now I reflect on it, he had an ability to draw Miss Bennet into the conversation where no one else could.” Bingley fidgeted in his seat for a moment. “Indeed, the only occasions when she became animated were when he talked of his new residence or of some childhood misdemeanour! He is most entertaining company, Darcy, and has no artifice. I believe you would like him.”
The door opened to admit a servant with the hot water and a maid carrying a tray of clean cups and saucers, and Darcy frowned as an uncomfortable notion crossed his mind. The frequent repetition of Harington’s name in association with Miss Bennet, coupled with Bingley’s report of his first meeting with her on the previous day, when her attention had been more fastened upon this other gentleman than Bingley, gave him cause for disquiet. Even knowing from Elizabeth’s passionate avowal that her sister had held Bingley in the greatest of esteem and that she had suffered deeply from the loss of his regard could not reassure him that her attentions had not been diverted in the aftermath of what appeared to be Bingley’s neglect.
“Bingley?”
Having secured his friend’s attention from the sugar bowl, Darcy cleared his throat.
“Do you – how do you find this Harington?” Bingley sat up straighter in his chair as he dropped a sugar lump into his cup. “Forgive me, but are you not… uneasy?”
Bingley frowned and rested his spoon carefully in his saucer. “Uneasy? Why the devil should I be – and about Harington, of all people? He is from an excellent family.”
Darcy gestured with his hand. “No –
no, I do not question the man’s credibility or character. It is just…” he hesitated. “It is just that Miss Bennet seems somewhat taken, do you not think, with him?”
To Darcy’s utmost surprise, instead of causing his friend a disturbance of mind, or even worse, further heart-searching, a familiar wide smile immediately appeared.
“Indeed, she is not!” Bingley sobered for a moment. “I must confess that I envy him his ease within the family. He is but a Godson to Mrs Gardiner, but his place seems more that of their own child. And with the Bennets it is apparent that the acquaintance is both of long-standing and almost equal intimacy.”
“And you are not concerned over his level of… intimacy with Miss Bennet?”
Bingley pursed his lips as if attempting to give the matter the seriousness of thought that Darcy seemed to think it warranted. “I perceived no particular notice from him towards her other than the friendliness of manner one would expect at their level of acquaintance – though I might have been jealous of the attention she paid him, had I observed aught to indicate anything other than a familial bond.”
Feeling somewhat relieved, though not totally convinced, Darcy poured himself a cup of tea and tried to keep a rein upon his desire to question his companion in detail about his evening in Gracechurch Street, but before his resolve to ask no questions could be properly tested, Bingley spoke once more.
“But I remain confident that if he has any intentions beyond that of a friend, they lie in quite another direction.” Bingley sipped his tea, then met Darcy’s eye with a smile. “I know you and Miss Elizabeth Bennet never got along, but I can assure you that it is quite the contrary with that young lady and Harington.”
Darcy blinked as these words were uttered, and his insides lurched uncontrollably amidst the hope that he had misunderstood his friend’s meaning. Gripped by a desperate urge to know more, he swallowed a mouthful of hot tea and allowed the liquid to burn a trail down his throat. Was this the way of it? Was Harington interested in Elizabeth? Feeling a fool for not considering the possibility, he tried to focus on his friend.
A Fair Prospect Page 26