by Meg Osborne
“Will you not play for us, Georgiana?”
“Before dinner?” His sister laughed, as if the suggestion was a nonsense.
“Quite right,” he acknowledged. “Well, we might go into the dining room, I suppose...”
He was poised to escort Mrs Bennet, all the while tamping down his anxiety at the inquisition that would surely follow, once the older woman was by his side. To his surprise, it was not of Miss Bennet she spoke, but Miss Bingley, and her brother.
“Jane informs me that Mr and Miss Bingley are to travel through Derbyshire soon,” she said, taking the arm he offered. “They will visit you, I imagine, Mr Darcy?”
“That is their plan,” he said, wondering how it came to be that Mrs Bennet should know of his friends’ plans as he did. He frowned. Jane? Had Bingley written to her directly? His frown deepened. Surely his friend was not so foolish as to write to a young lady by his own pen!
“I did not realise -” he began, but there was a squawk from Lydia that drowned out his words and he bit them back, unsure what answer he would prefer to hear in any case. That Bingley had written to inform Jane of his plans to travel north raised a concern that had not been in Darcy’s mind when he received his friend’s letter. He is coming all this distance to see Miss Bennet, not to see me. The notion rankled more than it ought, for he had few friends, and fewer still he valued as highly as Charles Bingley.
Escorting Mrs Bennet to her seat, he glanced up in time to meet Elizabeth’s eyes as she and Jane walked into the dining room, and something in their manner, in the nature of their whispered conversation struck him as suspicious. They both observed him, could it be possible he was the subject of their conversation? He coloured, and stalked to his own seat, neither concerned nor caring to take the time to ensure that his guests were comfortable before pulling his own seat noisily out. He had thought himself generous in offering the Bennet family shelter on his own estate, but now, seeing the glances exchanged by Elizabeth and Jane he wondered if he had been foolish. Had not Caroline Bingley cautioned him against inviting so needy a family closer into his circle? He had thought her words coloured by self-interest, but now he wondered. Was it entirely by chance that his path had so often crossed Elizabeth Bennet’s? Was it providence that engineered them to find so much in common to speak of, or had she given providence a helping hand? Jane had clearly bewitched Bingley so that he was willing to cross half the country merely for the chance to see her again. Was Elizabeth Bennet working the same kind of magic over him? He blinked, forcing his attention to his plate, and to the chatter that buzzed around his head, but his thoughts mocked him. You could not think it possible she cared for you alone! Foolish Darcy. She is penniless and without prospects, but if she could secure the master of Pemberley...who has already shown himself to be charitable and weak-hearted in the face of her family’s plight...!
His heart sank. He had been foolish. Well, he would not be anymore.
Lifting his head, he regarded Elizabeth shrewdly and was not surprised when she looked up, met his gaze and smiled. When she opened her mouth to address him, though, he pointedly looked away and enquired of Mrs Bennet whether the cottage was in need of further stocks of firewood, whether the gardens were manageable, how she liked the rooms: any topic relating to the property they leased. They were his tenants, only. Friends to his sister, by virtue of their similarities in age and proximity of location, but to him? They were nothing.
THE SCOWL MR DARCY wore was particularly ferocious, yet he attended to his dinner and conversation with more energy than Elizabeth thought she had seen from him before. It was quite some time before he paused in his lecture on the virtues of the cottage long enough that she might chance to get a word in.
“How are the repairs going to the north edge, Mr Darcy?” she asked, naming a certain place they had spoken of the previous day. He had been energised, then, enthusiastically detailing the damages that had been wrought by the winters’ storms and explaining the particulars of how they might be repaired, the skill required by the bricklayer and his own managers to ensure the work was completed quickly and well.
“As well as can be expected.” His reply was short, and gruff, with barely a glance of acknowledgement towards her.
She nodded, but as he had given her no recourse to continue their conversation, she was left to eat in silence. She felt, rather than saw, Jane’s eyes on her, and looked up into her sister’s unspoken question. With the slightest lift of her shoulders she responded. She did not know what had upset Mr Darcy, for clearly, something had, and he seemed perturbed in a manner that left him short-tempered and evasive. Where before he was loquacious! She shook her head. Mr Darcy had never been talkative, even with her, but he had surely been more talkative than he was at present, and what he did say was not accompanied by quite so fierce a scowl.
She was just considering whether she had done anything to offend him when the high pitched voice of his sister sought her attention.
“Miss Elizabeth, I notice you have not been to visit the library so often of late! Can it be that you tire of our selection already?”
Lizzy laughed.
“Indeed not! In fact, I am overdue a visit. I have a basket of books to return, but lately, I have often been walking, rather than reading, since the weather has changed and permitted me to be often out of doors.”
There, that was a thread of conversation Mr Darcy might join in, should he choose to. She risked a glance towards him, and was surprised and not entirely happy to see him entranced by his meal, and apparently oblivious that she had spoken at all. Nettled, she turned her back to him, determined to focus on the one Darcy who was willing to give her a moment’s notice.
“Mary tells me you played some fine duets together this afternoon, Georgiana. I hope you will grace us with a performance this evening.”
“That depends on Mary’s willingness to join me!” Georgiana glanced at her friend, and Lizzy was touched to see Mary colour and smile shyly, before agreeing to the request to play alongside Georgiana for at least one performance this evening. Lizzy and Mary had never been close, but losing their father seemed to have hit her sister hard, and she had retreated ever further into herself. Now that she reflected on it, Elizabeth was forced to acknowledge that Mary’s comments had been less and less frequent, and, whilst she certainly did not miss the obsequious sermonising or clunky mentions of Fordyce over the breakfast table, still, she wondered if there might be some cause to her sister’s silence.
“Mary,” she said, seizing on the opportunity to draw her sister into conversation while she seemed at least a little predisposed to speak. “How are you enjoying being able to play, and having someone so close who values music as you do?” She smiled wryly at Georgiana. “I fear out of us sisters, Mary is the only one with an ounce of musical talent.”
There was a pointed cough from another part of the table, and Lizzy turned to Kitty, who was looking longingly at their corner as if she, too, would like to be included.
“Oh yes, Kitty!” Mary brightened. “Do you know, Elizabeth, Kitty has such a sweet singing voice! She would never have graced me with her performances but seems altogether happier to sing a few bars when Georgiana is seated at the piano.” The two sisters exchanged a mildly tolerant glance, before Mary continued, in a moment returning to her old self and sounding as scornful as ever she had at Longbourn. “When she can be prevailed upon to stay at Pemberley and not always go running into town.”
“You need not sound so dismissive!” Lydia hissed, tossing her head. “Just because you know that you would hardly find a friend amongst the entire town, even if you were to go door to door.”
“Lydia!” This was too cruel even for Mrs Bennet, who usually dismissed her daughters’ squabbles as far below her notice. She darted a glance towards Mr Darcy, and laughed, nervously. “You must forgive my daughters, Mr Darcy. Such high-spirited girls...”
At length, Mr Darcy lifted his head, as if he had scarcely noticed the conversation,
and his eyes rested momentarily on Elizabeth before darting towards the door. He said nothing, but even Lizzy could feel the chill of his dismissal.
Their party ate on in silence for a moment before Lydia spoke again, evidently tiring of baiting her sisters and turning her attention to Georgiana.
“Did you hear about Mr Bingley?” she asked. “Apparently he is coming to Pemberley!”
“Truly?” Georgiana turned to her brother for confirmation, which was grudgingly given. “Oh, how jolly! We shall have a great deal of enjoyment with him here to round out our party. Does his sister accompany him?”
“I believe so,” Mr Darcy said, coolly, and Georgiana turned to Jane and Elizabeth.
“Are you acquainted with Miss Bingley? She is such a kind, gentle soul!”
This praise seemed too much for at least two people present at the table to bear, for Elizabeth laughed, and heard the same sound from Mr Darcy, although he strove to conceal it as a cough. She glanced over at him and their gazes met for a moment, before he looked pointedly away, leaving Elizabeth feeling more confused than ever.
Chapter Sixteen
Caroline Bingley loathed travelling. In the company of her brother, who had gradually regained a little of his cheer and good humour in light of the friendly correspondence that had sprung up between his sister and Jane Bennet in recent weeks, travelling was less of a chore than it might have been otherwise, but still, she loathed it. She despised the constant stop-start of their life and being forced to take rest and refreshment in any one of a number of roadside inns and stage posts. In short, she longed for their journey to be over, for their destination to be reached. That their destination would be the elegant estate of Pemberley in Derbyshire and waiting there to greet them was one Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy merely added to her impatience.
“Can we not travel any faster?” she muttered, watching the world pass by her carriage window at what seemed, to her, an absurdly slow pace.
“Faster?” Charles chuckled “And what is the reason for your desired haste, Caro, dear?”
“No reason.” Caroline forced her features to remain impassive. She had so far succeeded in keeping her feelings for Fitzwilliam Darcy concealed from her brother, from everyone. She had no desire to admit to them now. In any case, Charles was convinced that any friendship she had developed with Jane, any inquiry she made into Miss Bennet’s family and life at Pemberley were undertaken at his request and for his chief benefit. This very visit, her brother was convinced, had been his own idea and she accompanied only because he had asked her to. Her lips quirked. It benefitted her for her brother to think himself somehow in her debt. He had been more courteous, more concerned with her wellbeing and happiness this past few weeks than he had been at any time in the past year. She could not deny she enjoyed her brother’s attentions, for, whilst always a kind and generous brother, at present, Charles Bingley’s generosity knew no bounds.
Caroline’s hand reached towards her throat where a pretty bit of lace nestled. Her travelling case held a new gown, plus two old ones made over in the newest style, at which expense her brother had barely blinked.
“I think only of you,” she said, smoothly, smiling across the expanse of their carriage at her brother. “I know how eager you are to be at Pemberley and with Mr Darcy once more.”
“Indeed.” Charles folded his arms behind his head, leaning back into his seat and stretching out his long legs. “And it will be pleasant to see the Miss Bonnets again.”
Caroline’s smile became brittle. They had gone almost an hour without mention of anybody named Bennet, so it ought not to surprise her that Charles should mention them now. She angled herself more closely to the window and did not answer, hoping he would take her silence for agreement and end the matter there. Instead, he carried on, referring back to the most recent letter Caroline had received from Pemberley, where Jane wrote of her eagerness to see Caroline. She had not mentioned Charles by name, but only an idiot would fail to acknowledge his presence in the subtext of her words.
“I wager you are as eager as I am to observe for yourself the interactions between Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet and see if Jane’s suspicions are correct.”
“She did not say she suspected anything, relating to Mr Darcy or otherwise!” Caroline bristled. She had pored over Jane’s letter with more diligence than she had admitted to her brother. Jane’s words had been innocuous enough, but that had not prevented them from haunting Caroline. My sister is very fond of walking, as you recall. There is so much greater opportunity for that in Derbyshire than there was in London, and Elizabeth takes advantage of the fine weather we have been enjoying of late. I do not doubt she will be eager for some companionship upon your arrival, Miss Bingley, for I fear I am a poor walker, although she has often stumbled upon Mr Darcy and he is generous in his explanation of his grounds. I wager he is grateful to have so inquisitive a companion, for Lizzy’s interest in nature has shown no danger of being curbed. Last evening she introduced us to a particular type of leaf which was met with indifference from all but one of our sisters. I have pressed one and enclose it, for it does have a very pretty pattern on its surface, like a spider’s web, or “fine Brussels lace” in the words of Lydia, who has seen real Brussels lace but a handful of times in her life and yet considers herself an expert....
Caroline had almost succeeded in committing this handwritten account to memory, she had so often perused it. She had also sought an encyclopaedia of flora and fauna from her brother’s bookshelf, sneaking it into her own room under cover of darkness and poring over it by candlelight. If Eliza Bennet’s interest in the natural world impressed Mr Darcy then she, Caroline, would look forward to pleasing him with her superior intelligence. She sniffed, loudly enough that Charles’ feigned doze was abandoned and he sat up, leaning forward on his knees and regarding her carefully.”
“Tell me the truth, Caro,” he said. “Do you mind coming with me to Pemberley? You might have remained in London if you truly desired it. I should not have minded.”
“Are you so eager to cast me off altogether?” Her tone was a little frostier than she had intended and she hurried to temper it with a smile that did not, even to her, feel entirely genuine.
“As if I could ever wish such a thing!” Charles was aghast. “Why, it is all thanks to you that I feel able to make this journey at all. My happiness has been entirely in your hands, dearest sister. I only wish I might one day be able to help you as you have helped me.”
Caroline’s smile grew wider, but she forced herself to look away, fearing that if Charles looked deeper into her eyes he might see a little more than she wished him to. He had brought Fitzwilliam Darcy into their lives. In this way, her brother had already helped her. Now if only he might help her in securing Mr Darcy’s hand. Her smile faltered. The challenge that lay ahead of her might be difficult if, as she suspected, Elizabeth Bennet had already managed to sink her claws into Mr Darcy unopposed. But she was not the only young lady capable of turning a situation to her advantage. Just you wait, Eliza, she told the image of her friend that floated into her mind. You may have formed some kind of friendship with Mr Darcy but you forget that I knew him first. And I will win his heart, be it every so closed and sealed away...
WHEN ELIZABETH TOOK her daily walk one morning, it was not Mr Darcy whose path she stumbled across, but his sister.
“Good morning, Georgiana!” she cried, happily hurrying her pace into a run to close the gap between the two friends all the sooner. “How do you fare?”
“Very well!” Georgiana smiled, embracing her friend. “Better now that you are here.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Although I confess, I was given some intelligence that you were likely to walk this way. And no, you need not quiz me, for I shall not reveal my sources! Are you content to walk on, or do you prefer to rest?”
Elizabeth said that she was more than happy to walk, and the two girls began a slow meander along the path that would stretch out into the edge of woodland, before cur
ving back towards the main house.
“I am surprised to see you out here alone,” Elizabeth remarked when they had walked a few minutes in companionable silence.
“You fear my brother has abandoned me?”
“I fear my sisters have been persuaded to let you go!”
“Ah, yes,” Georgiana’s smile widened. “It was not without some manoeuvring on my part.” She bit her lip. “I do hope you will not think me terrible to wish for some peace!”
“Not in the least!” Lizzy laughed. “You must recall, I have lived with my sisters the entirety of their lives: I know just how demanding they can be, alone or all together.”
This provoked another shared laugh, and the two girls happily fell to discussing their surroundings as they walked.
“My brother told me you were well informed as to the trees and plants that grow here,” Georgiana smiled. “How happy I am that he is proved right!”
“You have been discussing me.” Lizzy drew a breath. “I wonder, ought I to feel nervous?”
“Not in the least!” Georgiana slid her arm through Lizzy’s and bumped her affectionately with her shoulder. “My brother thinks very highly of you.”
“Indeed!” Elizabeth laughed, but she could not help the warm feeling that burned in her chest at the thought that Georgiana’s words might, somehow, be true. Realising that her friend was watching her carefully for any reaction, she shook her head, dismissing the words with a joke. “I am sure he is merely grateful for tenants who are not poised to destroy his property.”
“Yes,” Georgiana nodded. “He is glad of it. But more than that. I know my brother well, Elizabeth, and I am not sure I have seen him take to a young woman so completely or immediately.”
Elizabeth’s heart soared, stopping only when she recalled the scowl Georgiana’s brother had worn at dinner. She might take her friend a little more seriously had he not been so short tempered with her at their last meeting.
