by J P Christy
“She was … she is,” his host said.
Georgiana said, “In Anne’s letters, she praises the lady for her conversation and good humor.”
“Miss Bennet is everything a lady should be: kind, gracious, such happy manners,” Bingley said, his voice quiet yet fervent.
Georgiana was certain she heard regret in his tone. She asked, “The estate you leased last year—Netherwood?”
“Netherfield,” Bingley and Darcy answered simultaneously.
“Yes, Netherfield. Is it not in Hertfordshire?”
“It is. I must decide soon whether to extend the lease or give up the place entirely.”
“Did you not like Hertfordshire?” Georgiana asked.
“I liked it very much. The landscape is pretty, and .…” Bingley trailed off and was silent. Turning suddenly to Darcy, he asked, “Did she mention me?”
Knowing his friend was inquiring after Jane Bennet, Darcy replied, “Allow me to clarify. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was visiting Hunsford Parsonage, which is at Rosings. Her friend Charlotte Lucas is now Charlotte Collins, wife of my aunt’s parson.”
Bingley’s disappointment was unmistakable. “I see. And how is Miss Elizabeth? Such a lively, witty lady, as I recall.”
“She is well. She asked after you.” He did not mention her disappointment in Bingley as her beloved sister’s would-be suitor.
After taking a restorative breath, Bingley told Georgiana, “Last year, my sisters invited Miss Jane Bennet to visit Netherfield, but the lady was caught in a fierce rainstorm. As a result, she became quite ill, so we provided a guest room for her recuperation. The very next day, Miss Elizabeth walked some three miles from her family’s estate to attend to Miss Jane.”
“Three miles?” Georgiana said, impressed.
“Miss Elizabeth is very fond of walking,” Darcy said, trying unsuccessfully not to picture how she appeared on that October morning, bright-eyed and flushed with exercise. He added in a disapproving tone, “After such a walk, the hem of her gown was encrusted with several inches of mud.”
“Is that what you recall? I saw only the deep regard of a loving sister. Would you not make equal effort for Miss Darcy?”
“Why, of course. Although I would ride a horse,” Darcy said.
“What if you did not have a horse?” Bingley asked.
“I would do whatever was necessary to reach Georgiana,” Darcy said stiffly. When he glanced at his sister, his voice softened. “I hope you know that, dearest.”
“And I hope you know I would do whatever was necessary to rescue you,” she added, a twinkle of impertinence in her eyes.
Bingley gave a surprised chuckle. “I thought it was a gentleman’s responsibility to rescue ladies.”
“But why should that be?” Georgiana asked. “Are gentlemen never in need of a lady’s help? Might not a lady offer some spiritual or physical relief?”
When Bingley gave him a wide-eyed look, Darcy thought, I hope you understand she does not know all the meanings of “physical relief.”
Georgiana continued, “In novels, do not ladies rip up their petticoats to make bandages for gentlemen’s injuries?”
“I really must discuss your reading habits with Mrs. Annesley,” Darcy muttered.
The dinner was proceeding so smoothly that Georgiana found herself enjoying a rare sense of confidence. She smiled at her brother. “Would it not be more sensible to discuss my reading habits with me? I assure you my book selections include history, art, and philosophy. What do you read, Mr. Bingley?”
“The newspaper. I have no patience for long books.”
“Indeed. Your library at Netherfield—” Darcy stopped himself abruptly. We were safely off the subject of your Hertfordshire estate; why did I bring that up?
“Yes, I recall your complaints on that subject.” To Georgiana, Bingley said, “You intrigue me with your notion that a lady might rescue a man.”
Oh dear lord, I thought we were safely away from that topic, too, Darcy thought.
“I have not fully thought this through,” she said. “When I consider what a man might do which constitutes a rescue, I find myself picturing bold actions. Yet when I consider what rescue a woman might perform, I find myself picturing small actions. This is not to say ladies are incapable of bold actions; I believe we are. Nor are small actions any less important than bold ones. I recall with gratitude those times when my Aunt Amanda—that is, Lady Fitzwilliam—convinced me I was worthy of forgiveness after my moments of foolishness.”
“Not so obvious as pulling you to safety from a runaway horse,” Bingley said, nodding. “But I do believe what you have described is indeed a type of rescue.”
“My brother was recently involved in a rescue from a most inappropriate marriage.”
“Georgiana!” Darcy exclaimed. What will she say next? What does she suspect? There are so many ways this conversation can go wrong!
In a theatrical whisper, she said, “He and our cousin Anne rescued each other by declaring to Lady Catherine they are not engaged.”
Bingley raised a glass in toast. “I shall do you the great favor, Darcy, of not sharing this news with my sister Caroline.”
“I do not wish to bore our guests with family gossip,” Darcy said coolly. Standing, he added, “As we are finished with our meal, Georgiana, please excuse Bingley and me for a brief chat over brandy. We will join you in the music room shortly.”
Rising from her chair, Georgiana remarked, “Christopher says that Brother has committed himself to finding a wife.”
Bingley stood. “More news that Caroline will not hear from me, Darcy. This was a delicious dinner, Miss Darcy, and you are the consummate hostess.”
“Perhaps you and Brother could search together. I believe you are both in need of rescue.”
Darcy, stunned into silence, could only stare after his sister as she left the dining room. What has come over her?
“Are we having brandy here?” Bingley asked.
“No, let us go my study,” Darcy said and led the way.
≈≈≈
Once Darcy had closed the door behind them, he said, “Please excuse my sister’s impertinence.” If I am going to apologize, I may
“Not at all,” Bingley said cheerfully, relaxing into one of the two wingback chairs that faced the fireplace. “Miss Darcy seemed a bit livelier than, well, than I have ever seen her. However, she was delightful, as always.”
Darcy wondered if Bingley had developed a tendre for his sister. If he has, then I won’t have to apologize about Miss Bennet. He’d be good husband, and so long as I can keep Caroline away from me—
Bingley interrupted his thoughts. “Should you ever wish to trade your sister for Caroline, I would happily make the exchange. I promise to be an exemplary older brother to Miss Darcy.”
Ah, no tendre. Apology back on. He gave a small sigh and then asked, “Port or brandy? Fitzwilliam recently gifted me with a bottle of fine port, and the brandy is from France.”
“You have such a good cellar, I will be happy with either. Which do you recommend?”
“Brandy it is.” Darcy turned his back to Bingley to fill two glasses. Under his breath, he muttered, “We are both going to want something fortifying.” After handing Bingley a glass, he sat in the adjacent chair. “Georgiana has become increasingly bold of late. I am not entirely comfortable with the change.” Stop stalling, he scolded himself.
“I have never heard your lovely sister utter a rude word or an unkind comment.” Bingley took a sip of the brandy. “Given Caroline’s behavior, you may think my brotherly standards are lacking. But perhaps your standards are unreasonably high for a young lady … dare I say a young woman? You would not want her to be so timid that she cannot speak up for herself when some forward fellow is too familiar.” He smiled at his alliteration.
Oh, wonderful—here’s another way in which I have failed my sister, by not encouraging her to assert herself when she is confronted by a scoundrel! After clearing his t
hroat, he said, “Bingley, I am not finished making my apologies to you.”
“You sound serious and mysterious, my friend.”
“That depends on you. At dinner, you seemed interested in news of the Bennets.” He took a sip of brandy.
Bingley stared his glass before taking another taste. “This is a generous pour. Not that you have ever been stingy.”
“Yes, well, uh, one wishes to be generous.” Darcy stammered, surprised by the deflection.
“A first-rate brandy but, of course, I expected no less.” He took another sip. “I am aware that you and my sisters believe Jane Bennet held me in no special regard. Still, I cannot stop thinking of her. I should give up the Netherfield lease, but my heart isn’t willing to let go of the possibility of seeing her again, of finding the courage to woo her. Of course, the longer I stay away .…” His voice trailed off as he stared at the flames in the fireplace, imagining a future with the Bennet’s oldest daughter.
Darcy looked at his friend for a long moment and then drank his own brandy (also a generous pour) in one gulp. “I deceived you, my friend, and I am heartily sorry for it. Miss Elizabeth told me in no uncertain terms that her sister had a sincere affection for you and was despondent over your departure.”
Bingley’s face flushed. “You were aware she felt—”
“I did not realize it last November,” he said hastily. “Indeed, I was unaware of her feelings until Miss Elizabeth spoke of it during my recent visit to Rosings. To me, Miss Bennet’s countenance was so composed that I was unable to perceive her regard for you. Thus, I wished to spare you the pain of an unequal match.” He glanced at Bingley but could not get a read on his emotional state.
Finally, Bingley said, “Well, if you told me what you believed to be true, where is the deception?”
Upon hearing Bingley attempting to cast his actions in a charitable light, Darcy felt ashamed. “There is more. Last week, Miss Bennet returned to Longbourn; however, she had been in London since the beginning of the year, staying in Cheapside with an aunt and uncle. Your sisters told me she had called on them, and they took some time before returning the call.”
“They cut her?” Bingley easily envisioned his sisters’ behavior.
“That is my understanding.”
“The kindest, gentlest soul it has ever been my privilege to know, and my sisters were horrible to her?” He gave a bitter laugh. “Of course, they were!”
After an awkward pause, Darcy added, “Perhaps the pain for Miss Bennet was lessened ever so slightly by knowing she was not likely to be a sister to women who behaved thusly.”
Bingley gave Darcy a fierce scowl. “Is that a joke?”
“No, of course not,” he mumbled.
“So, you knew Miss Bennet was in town and you knew my sisters cut her, but you did not tell me. Is this why you are apologizing?” The angry edge in Bingley’s voice was unmistakable.
“Yes.”
“Why are you telling me now?”
“I did you a wrong, and I wish to right it. The point is, you did not ask for my opinion about Miss Bennet, and I should not have given it. You are my friend, and I value our friendship. Tell what I can do to make amends, and I will do it.”
“You colluded with my sisters, causing hurt to an innocent lady for whom I have fond feelings. Had I known she was in London, I would have called upon her, regardless of where her relatives lived!” Bingley looked at his glass of brandy. He thought of flinging it in the fireplace—or at Darcy. After a moment, he stood, finished his drink, and set the glass forcefully on the mantle. “My trust in you is shaken. My temper is—I have never wanted to hit someone as much as .…”
Slowly Darcy rose. “That seems an inadequate penance for my actions.”
“I think so, too!” Bingley strode out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
Darcy followed slowly, thinking, A courteous man would see his friend to the door. Yet a respectful man would allow his friend some measure of privacy after such a conversation. Would that I had been a better man when Caroline entreated me to conceal Jane Bennet’s presence.
Stepping into the corridor, he saw Georgiana standing in the doorway of the music room, staring at Bingley’s retreating form. When Darcy trailed his departing guest, his sister followed. From the top of the stairs, they watched Bingley request his coat.
“Goodbye, Mr. Bingley,” Georgiana called, trying to inject a bit of pleasantry into what was obviously a fraught situation.
“I wish you a good night, Miss Georgiana.” He allowed Ashton to help him on with his coat, but he was visibly impatient to leave.
When the door closed behind Bingley, Georgiana looked at her brother in surprise. “He did not farewell you! I have never seen Mr. Bingley so .…” At a loss for words, she made a delicate gesture of confusion.
Is this the end of my friendship with him? Darcy realized the notion bothered him very much. Then, noticing Georgiana watching him, he patted her shoulder. “I will forego your lovely music, dearest. Good night.” He turned away, but her voice stopped him.
“How much longer, Brother?”
Puzzled, he turned to face her. “What?”
“Is there some ability I must master or penance I must perform before you stop treating me as if I were a child?”
Noting the unshed tears sparkling in her eyes, Darcy’s voice was gentle despite the turmoil he felt. “I’m afraid I do not have the pleasure of understanding you.”
“You shelter me as if any unpleasantness would overwhelm me. As if I am too foolish, too delicate for adult conversation.”
Her criticism provoked Darcy into a reflexive defensiveness. He squared his shoulders and assumed an aloof expression. “You are not yet a grown woman.”
Georgiana’s laugh was tinged with bitterness. “No, sir. Although had you not rescued me from my poor judgment last summer, I would now be a scoundrel’s wife and seen as a grown woman.” For a moment, the siblings stared at each other. Then she placed her hand on his arm. “Whatever has occurred with
Mr. Bingley troubles you, so it troubles me. Please. Talk with me.”
“His annoyance was about a misunderstanding of a personal nature,” Darcy said after a pause, fearing he was disclosing too much to a sister who needed him to be strong and perfect.
This time, her laugh was gently amused. “A personal nature? And I was so certain you had quarreled about the weather!”
That’s something Miss Elizabeth might have said, he thought.
Georgiana hugged his waist. “What you have told me is hardly a revelation, Brother. Yet note that I do not recoil in horror. I still love and admire you.” Her embrace comforted him, and his arms encircled her shoulders automatically.
Finally, he spoke. “There is nothing you must master. You only need to wait for your slow-witted brother to accept that not only is it not his place to organize the world for everyone he holds dear, he could not do so with any degree of effectiveness if he tried.”
Looking into his eyes, she said, “Speak to me tonight as if I were a dear friend who wishes to ease your burdens. I might just say something quite wise.”
Darcy kissed her forehead before pulling away and offering her his arm. “Won’t you step into my study with me, dear friend?”
Georgiana slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “It would be my pleasure.”
Once in the study, Darcy closed the door and removed his jacket and loosened his cravat. “I hope you do not mind that we are informal friends. I feel oddly constrained tonight. I cannot account for it, or perhaps this is how a guilty conscience feels.”
Delighted at her brother’s uncharacteristic openness, Georgiana suddenly realized his demeanor had been moving in this direction in fits and starts since his return from Rosings. As she relaxed into the chair Bingley had so recently vacated, Darcy asked her, “Port or brandy?”
“I beg your pardon!” She had never been permitted any drink stronger than watered-down wine.
“A small glass of port with a large measure of water would do you no harm.”
“Yes, please!” He poured brandy for himself and prepared a diluted port for his sister; she accepted the glass with both hands as a special treat.
Sitting in the adjacent wingback chair, he watched her take a sip. “What do you think?”
Georgiana took a second sip before replying. “It would be better with more port.”
“Perhaps when you are seventeen,” he said with a smile.
“So, in a few months,” she said. Trying not to sound too eager, she prompted, “A misunderstanding of a personal nature … something to do with Hertfordshire?”
Unfortunately, the shock of her words hit Darcy when his mouth was full of brandy; the resulting spray from his surprised cough dampened his cravat, shirt, and waistcoat. As Georgiana covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh, he regarded her from under raised brows. “Why did you say ‘Hertfordshire’?”
“Whatever has arisen between you and Mr. Bingley must have its origins there.”
Suddenly, he felt reluctant to discuss his behavior regarding the Bennets and the Bingleys. “Perhaps we should talk about—”
“The misunderstanding could not have happened at Rosings because Mr. Bingley was not there.” Suddenly, she gasped, “But Miss Bennet was! Do you and Mr. Bingley have a fond regard for the same lady? The Miss Bennet you mentioned in your letters?”
“No, and there are five Miss Bennets. Miss Jane is eldest, and Miss Elizabeth is next in age.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened. “Five daughters? How many sons?”
“None, and all the daughters are unmarried. The neighborhood is not overrun with eligible men.”
“Dowries for five daughters—my goodness! How large is the Bennet estate?”
“It earns perhaps two thousand per annum. Still, although Longbourn is not very fashionable, it seems comfortable enough and is sufficient to the family’s needs.”
“Five daughters in want of husbands! If Mrs. Bennet is anything like our Aunt Catherine, I envision a woman whose life is dedicated to matchmaking.”
