“Actually, he has been awake for some time and has already gone out.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Where would he go at this hour of the morning?”
Georgiana shrugged. “To see Bingley, apparently. I told him I thought it was a little early for social calls, and he said he thought it was actually rather late, whatever that may mean at seven in the morning.”
“To see Bingley, eh? Good for him. Maybe there is hope for the boy after all.”
Georgiana sighed dramatically. “Are you going to be mysterious as well?”
He laughed. “Afraid so, sweetheart. I did get him to talk, but I believe that what I heard is confidential. You are going to have to trust your old Cousin Richard to take care of it this time, at least insofar as your brother allows me to help.”
“I hate it when you treat me as if I were still only eleven,” she said with a scowl. “You can be even worse than William as far as that goes.”
“Worse than William in what way?” asked Darcy from the doorway.
Georgiana jumped. “Back already? Was he not at home?”
“Oh, he was there, all right. What I had to tell him did not take long,” Darcy said grimly with a sidelong glance at his cousin.
“I imagine that even Bingley has little to say this early in the morning.”
“If you say so. Do you not have some business in town today, Fitzwilliam? Or even better, some that will take you very far away?”
“William!” Georgiana cried.
The colonel patted her hand. “No need to worry yourself, sweetheart. This is how your brother and I stay friends, now that we are too old for fistfights.”
“Speak for yourself, cousin. Given how I feel this morning, you should feel fortunate that it is not pistols at dawn.”
“I told you he would be grumpy, did I not?” the colonel asked Georgiana. “Never mind, I know when to retreat. It is one of the other things they teach us in the army.”
She glanced from her brother to the colonel. “Will you be back for dinner?”
“I expect I will have to dine with the Major General, though the very idea is enough to make me lose my appetite. I should be back in the evening.”
“If you live that long,” grumbled Darcy.
Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled beatifically. “Glad to know you are feeling better, Darcy.”
As he left, Georgiana turned to Darcy. “What was that about?”
He gave her an oblique look. The last thing he needed was a disagreement with his sister, given that she seemed to be the only person he cared about who still thought he had any redeeming features, now that Bingley had joined Colonel Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth in the ranks of those who were disgusted with him. “Ask me again when you are older—say, after your first grandchild is born.”
“William, I worry about you,” she said softly.
Her gentleness was more than he could handle. “I appreciate your concern, but you need not worry. If you will excuse me, I have some business I need to tend to.”
She watched his retreating back, wondering if he would ever think her old enough to trust.
* * *
Contrary to his expectations, Colonel Fitzwilliam was able to return to the Darcy home by early afternoon, although he could hardly claim that it was in the best interest of his regiment for him to do so. However, his words to Georgiana notwithstanding, he was worried about Darcy’s state of mind, and felt it behooved him to be available in case matters deteriorated due to the apparent quarrel with Bingley. Thus he found himself penning a long overdue letter to his parents while surreptitiously eyeing his cousin, who was so deeply engrossed in a book as to have completely ceased turning its pages, when the arrival of Mr. Bingley was announced.
Without looking up, Darcy said, “Tell him if he wants pistols at dawn, he shall have to wait his turn behind you, Fitzwilliam.”
“Why pistols? You have choice of weapons if he is challenging, and you could take either of us apart with a rapier.”
“Who says I want to win?” said Darcy grimly.
“Please stop it, both of you,” said Georgiana in a trembling voice. “It is not funny.”
Both men looked over at her to see tears in her eyes. The colonel was immediately kneeling by her side. “Georgiana, sweetheart, this is just playing! Dueling is illegal, remember?”
“I hate it when you fight,” she said faintly.
Darcy put his book down. “I apologize, Georgiana. My mood is beastly, and I have been taking it out on Richard, but no, we are not fighting. There is no need for you to worry. Look, we can be friends,” he said, holding out a hand to his cousin.
“There is no need to patronize me, William!” she responded with a degree of defiance that startled both gentlemen.
“Mr. Bingley,” Philips said from the doorway as Bingley entered with his usual eagerness, oblivious to the tension in the room.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam!” Bingley said with pleasure, advancing to greet him. “I had not heard you were in town! And Miss Darcy, how pleasant to see you again!” He turned to Darcy, whose demeanor suggested that he was expecting at the very least some form of violence, and rocked up on his toes. “Well?” he asked enthusiastically.
“Well what?” Darcy’s voice was carefully neutral.
Bingley smiled broadly as if this were a foolish question. “Are you coming to Netherfield with me, or not?”
There was a minute of silence as Darcy carefully regarded Bingley, oblivious to his cousin’s sudden attention. “Is it your wish that I come with you?” he asked stiffly.
“Of course!” Bingley said earnestly. “You really must come, you know.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam whispered something to Georgiana that caused her to look at him in some surprise, but Darcy and Bingley were oblivious to the exchange.
“I suppose I could come for a short while,” Darcy said slowly, as if the words had to be pulled out of him.
“Excellent, excellent!” Bingley was clearly delighted.
“May I come as well?” Georgiana’s voice came timidly.
Darcy looked at her in surprise. It was rare enough for her to say anything in company, and making such a request in public was completely novel. “I am not sure that would be a good idea,” he said, thinking of one particular member of the militia billeted at Meryton.
“Nonsense,” said the colonel energetically. “It will do her a world of good to get out of London during the summer. I could hardly believe you planned to stay here through the hot weather. That is, if Mr. Bingley has no objections?”
“Of course not!” Bingley said. “It would be delightful if you would join us.”
“Good, umm… I mean thank you,” she said in a near-whisper, clearly having exhausted her store of courage. Darcy opened his mouth to speak, but then limited himself to a significant stare at Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“Wonderful!” Bingley said. “Shall we consider our plans?”
* * *
A fortnight after the removal of the regiment from Meryton, the normal good humor and cheerfulness that had disappeared from Longbourn with the departure of the officers began to reappear. The discontentedness of Kitty and Mrs. Bennet had waned, the families who had been in town for the winter came back again, and opportunities to display their summer finery were frequent. Elizabeth anticipated with pleasure her tour to the Lakes with the Gardiners, and could she have included Jane in the scheme, every part of it would have been perfect.
Mrs. Bennet was distracted as her querulous spirits were opened again to the agitation of hope, by an article of news, which then began to be in circulation. The housekeeper at Netherfield had received orders to prepare for the arrival of her master, who was coming down in a day or two. Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets. She looked at Jane, and smiled, and shook her head by turns.
Elizabeth did not know what to make of the news, but found her mind traveling to the events in Kent and wondering what role Mr. Darcy might have played in the return of his friend to H
ertfordshire. Had her information regarding the state of Jane’s affections caused him to reconsider his interference, and perhaps even to take action to reverse it? She had studied every sentence of his letter, and her feelings towards its writer were at times widely different. When she remembered the style of his address, she was still full of indignation; but when she considered how unjustly she had condemned and upbraided him, her anger was turned against herself, and his disappointed feelings became the object of compassion. His attachment excited gratitude, his general character respect; but she could not approve him. Nor could she for a moment repent her refusal, or feel the slightest inclination ever to see him again. Yet should he be the instrument that reunited Bingley and Jane, such an effort could not but be rewarded by a certain warming of her regard. But when she recalled that effort would not have been required had he not interfered in the first place, her thoughts bent further toward resentment.
She did not consider it likely that she would encounter him again, except perhaps in passing, should Jane and Bingley someday be so fortunate as to mend their relationship and marry. She could not but imagine that he would avoid her diligently after her behavior in Hunsford, and so did not consider the possibility that he might again accompany his friend to Netherfield. It was with the greatest of surprise and agitation, then, that she heard Kitty’s intelligence that Bingley was coming to Longbourn to pay his respects, accompanied by none other than Mr. Darcy.
On hearing this news, Jane looked at Elizabeth with surprise and concern, feeling the awkwardness that must attend her sister in seeing him for the first time after receiving his explanatory letter. Both sisters were uncomfortable enough. Each felt for the other, and of course for themselves. Elizabeth sat intently at her work, striving to be composed, and casting about for an idea as to how to handle the forthcoming meeting. She did not dare lift up her eyes, till anxious curiosity carried them to the face of her sister, as the servant was approaching the door. Jane looked a little paler than usual, but more sedate than Elizabeth had expected. On the gentlemen’s appearing, her color increased; yet she received them with tolerable ease, and with a propriety of behavior equally free from any symptom of resentment, or any unnecessary complaisance.
Elizabeth said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat down again to her work with an eagerness that it did not often command. She ventured only one glance at Darcy, and was more than surprised to see him entering into conversation with her mother, inquiring very civilly as to her health and recent events at Longbourn. Her mother, looking both startled and flattered by this unexpected attention, received him with a degree of warmth that embarrassed her daughter. Although Elizabeth barely dared to look up again, she followed with great anxiety his progress through the room to the point of neglecting to notice Bingley’s approach of Jane. She was further surprised to see him engaging Mary on the subject of music, noting that his sister had recently begun learning a piece by Mozart that he remembered Mary performing when he had been in Hertfordshire last, and drawing a pleasing comparison between the devotion to practice of the two young women. Mary, sufficiently taken aback so as to be unable to afford a moral platitude appropriate to the situation, was driven to the extremity of actually responding to the subject at hand, and managed to make at least one intelligent comment regarding the music of Mozart.
Elizabeth’s astonishment was extreme; and continually was she repeating, ‘Why is he so altered? From what can it proceed? It cannot be for me, it cannot be for my sake that his manners are thus softened. My reproofs at Hunsford could not work such a change as this.’ Her heart was racing with apprehension that he would approach her, and she knew not how to look or to behave when he, as she had feared, seated himself by her and addressed her directly.
“Miss Bennet, it is a pleasure to see you again,” he said, in a voice that was perhaps not quite so calm as it might have been, yet with a civility that could not be denied.
She hardly knew how to respond. “You are most welcome back to Hertfordshire, sir. I hope you find it pleasing at this time of year.” Bringing all of her courage to the fore, she forced herself to look up at him, and felt a slight shock as her eyes met his. Underneath the amiable look on his face, she could see that he was as nervous as she at this meeting, and she resolved to at least show she could match civility for civility.
“Yes, it is a most refreshing change from the airs of London. I must confess that I prefer the countryside to the city, but never more than during the warmth of the summer.” Darcy inwardly cursed his inability to make intelligent conversation under these circumstances. He had done quite well, he thought, with her family, but those were comments he had carefully prepared in advance and utilized as if following a script.
“I cannot say that I have spent any significant time in town during the summer, but certainly I enjoy taking walks and admiring the summer scenery,” she said, then wished she could retract her words as she realized that her reference to walks might be considered a reminder of their time at Rosings. She cast about desperately for a more neutral topic of conversation, and was amused when she realized that they were already discussing that safest of topics, the weather.
Relieved to see her smile, he continued, “Yes, I recall that you are a great walker, Miss Bennet. I would imagine that there would be many pleasant summertime rambles to be found, although certainly each season presents its own unique charms.”
The ludicrous aspects of their strained conversation began to outweigh her anxiety, and she said slyly, “Yes, I would have to say, on reflection, sir, that summer is indeed one of my four favorite seasons.”
He let out a startled laugh, which he quickly covered with steepled fingers. “It is always refreshing to talk to a young lady of such decided preferences.”
This time when she met his eyes it was with a distinct feeling of relief, that they had negotiated a difficult passage and established that they could indeed hold a conversation without hurling acrimonious insults and accusations at one another. She was glad of it, for certainly Bingley and Jane would have no chance at all if she and Darcy were in continual conflict. They sat briefly in a silence that was at first harmonious but became increasingly uncomfortable as the minutes passed, until Elizabeth took it on herself to break it by asking whether Mr. Bingley’s sisters had accompanied them to Netherfield.
“I believe that they have plans to join us in some days, though there is one other person in our present company who more particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during our stay at Netherfield?”
The surprise of such an application was great, but, while it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made him think really ill of her, it added a degree of intimacy to their meeting that Elizabeth did not yet feel ready to accommodate. It was one thing to remain sufficiently civil as to allow necessary social intercourse, but quite another to further their connection. She was far from certain how she felt about such a plan, or what he might mean by it. However, she could see no grounds for objecting to the introduction, and thinking that more contact between Longbourn and Netherfield could not but improve Jane’s chances with Bingley, she said, “I would be glad to make her acquaintance, if she wishes. I hope Miss Darcy is enjoying her visit to Hertfordshire.”
“I believe she is, although she has not had much time to form an opinion. She has not gone far beyond Netherfield, but now that I am informed the militia is decamped from Meryton, I will feel more free to take her out.” Darcy had noted her brief hesitation before agreeing to the introduction and, although disappointed by it, reminded himself forcefully that this new beginning would have to be taken very slowly and with great care if it were to have any chance of success, and God knew he wanted it to be successful. He had managed to keep some degree of reservation regarding this attempt right up until the moment when he walked into the room and saw her, with her fine eyes downcast and her cheeks covered with rosy blushes, and
almost immediately he was more lost than ever, and prepared to do whatever it took to earn her affection.
“Yes, the departure of the militia was a relief to me as well.” She wondered if he would hear the underlying message that she believed his words about Wickham, “Although I cannot say that everyone in my family is in agreement with that sentiment.”
Elizabeth took a moment to observe her sister deep in conversation with Bingley, whose face displayed such delight and pleasure that it was clear that his heart was as much hers as ever. She wondered how the gentleman beside her was feeling about the developments in that regard, and whether he would support Bingley’s desires this time, or again seek to undermine the match.
“How long do you plan to stay at Netherfield?” she asked, then realized such a question could easily be misinterpreted.
“As long as necessary.” Darcy reflexively responded with his true thoughts before realizing the extent to which his answer exposed him and might antagonize her. Again cursing his loss of coherent thought when confronted with Elizabeth Bennet, he watched in agony for her reaction, and stumbled to undo the damage. “That is to say, Bingley is hoping to stay, umm, probably through the summer, but there are a number of factors he has to take into consideration, and my plans are not completely fixed.”
The effect of his words on Elizabeth was confusing; she felt a combination of an odd excitement and a certain distrust, wondering if he could possibly mean what she thought, of whether she might be misinterpreting his words. It was impossible to forget his words at their last conversation: You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. She was far from insensible of the compliment of such a man’s affection, and the consideration that his regard for her could be sufficiently great as to overcome the natural resentment he must feel for her behavior at Hunsford could not but inspire a certain degree of gratitude on her part, no matter how unequal she might feel in her response to him. Perhaps she was reading too much into a few simple words, and hardly knowing how to reply, eventually concluded that it was wisest to avoid any acknowledgement of his possible meanings. Fortunately, an appropriate distraction came to mind.
To Conquer Mr. Darcy Page 2
