CHAPTER 25
Darcy descended the wide staircase on his way towards the breakfast parlour, not really knowing what he should expect. To his great joy though, he soon saw that life at Netherfield had not materially altered. Elizabeth was there, and she was alone.
Not strictly speaking, of course. There was a footman serving her with tea, and two others busying themselves with a vast array of covered dishes laid out on the dresser, in preparation for the much larger party expected to come down for the morning repast. It was an age since he had been at liberty to hold her, kiss her, or just take her hand, but a wise man would derive comfort from such as he was given. At least he was not required to disguise his joy at seeing her, nor temper the warmth in his eyes when he came to greet her and sit down at her side.
“This is an unexpected pleasure,” he said softly as he did so.
“Unexpected, Sir?”
“I would have thought you retired rather too late for such an early breakfast,” Darcy elaborated casually, and Elizabeth laughed.
“Oh, dear. Were we so very loud, then?”
“Not as such. Just whispers and a schoolroom-full of giggles,” he said, delighting in the beautiful picture she presented, a blushing vision with sparkling eyes.
“It was not so!”
“Oh, I beg to differ.”
Elizabeth’s eyes crinkled in amusement. In truth, perhaps he was in the right to liken them to a bevy of schoolgirls. They had gathered before the fireplace with cushions and quilts and cups of chocolate, which Jane had the inspiration to ring for and, as they shared their thoughts, if not all their secrets, there was little doubt there had been girlish giggles, from her part and Kitty’s and Marianne’s at least .
The others had been more reserved to begin with – but then they always were. Still, before long, their reticence was conquered, and the long hours spent in conversation had felt very much like a reunion of sisters. Upon reflection, that was precisely what it had been. How utterly delightful! They were all sisters now, or very soon would be.
“What do you know of giggles in the schoolroom, Mr Darcy?” she teased with an impish smile. “I would have thought you were the perfect student at all times.”
“And you would be wrong, I fear,” he grinned back.
“Is that so? That, I should like to hear about.”
“I do not doubt you shall. In fact, I am prepared to wager that my cousin will so mistrust my version of events that he will tell you his – twice, at the very least – before the year is out. And as for Georgiana, she had her fair share of schoolroom scrapes and giggles, which I am certain she will share with you someday.”
“I believe she already did, at least in part.”
“She did?”
“Oh, aye. Some stories have emerged last night, and I could scarce believe them, given your sister’s quiet disposition.”
“I beg your pardon, are you saying that Georgiana was with you as well?”
For a brief moment, Elizabeth wondered whether he disliked the notion of his younger sister staying up so late instead of getting her much-needed rest, but it did not take her long to ascertain that nothing could be further from his mind. There was no disapproval in his voice but utmost surprise, so much so that Elizabeth looked up at him in disbelief.
“You did not imagine we would exclude her, surely.”
“I did not think you would be comfortable speaking with your friends of our engagement, in my sister’s presence…” Darcy said tentatively, and Elizabeth laughed, wide-eyed.
“Goodness! What did you think I was prepared to tell them? There is nothing I should wish to share that you or Georgiana could not hear.”
She shook her head in mild amusement as she turned to pour his coffee. She stirred in just one lump of sugar, while Darcy silently watched her, all manner of unconnected thoughts warming his heart .
In part, it was her kindness to his sister and the fact that Georgiana was made to feel not merely welcome, but surprisingly comfortable – enough to share childhood memories, apparently – with several young ladies whose society could not fail to bring out the very best in her. And then it was Elizabeth’s warm laughter, and her gentle teasing. And the quiet, delightful intimacy brought on by the simple fact that there she was, naturally pouring his coffee, not needing to ask if he desired any, or how he chose to take it for that matter, with all the ease of a longstanding habit, as though they had been married for some time.
Elizabeth looked up as she handed him the cup and saucer, the sudden look of tenderness in his eyes making her crease her brow in smiling wonder as to its cause and purport.
“Is anything the matter?”
“No,” he said softly. “Nothing at all.” He took the proffered cup and thanked her, then absent-mindedly set it down. “You are… truly remarkable, Elizabeth,” he could not stop from adding, his voice lowered to a whisper as he reached to hold her hand and bring it to his lips. It was not much – no, not enough by far. But it was more than he had been allowed in hours, and in all likelihood would have to see him through several hours more.
“For preparing you a cup of coffee?” she asked with an airy little laugh and a twinkle in her eyes.
“Why, yes, in fact. And for many other reasons alongside.” He reluctantly released her hand and turned his attention to his plate. His toast was cold by then, but he began to butter it nevertheless. “I hope the communications were well received,” he said after a pause.
Elizabeth glanced up, very much suspecting that he need not ask.
“They were indeed,” she replied briefly and returned to her cup, unwilling to pursue the subject of communications and delighted mothers.
“Thank goodness. I do not think I could have pretended to barely know you for yet another day.”
Elizabeth chuckled in response, his engaging smile reminding her exactly why she had endeavoured to rouse herself for breakfast after so very little sleep.
“I am at liberty to ask if you would take a turn with me, then… am I not?
“You most certainly are, and I should like that very much.”
“But before we go, will you allow me to speak to your mother?” Darcy asked, jesting manner aside, and Elizabeth valiantly suppressed a wry grimace, in the full knowledge that it had to be done.
“Of course,” she said matter-of-factly. “I just hope it will be…”
‘Quiet? Decorous? Bearable?’ She could not find the right word to convey what was best left unsaid, so she did not finish her sentence, but Darcy smiled reassuringly in response.
“It will be well. Now, where would you like to walk?”
The turn of her countenance said ‘Anywhere!’ and they both laughed, in unspoken agreement.
“Hm… I have not given it much thought,” she eventually replied. “Towards Ashford, perhaps? ‘Tis a lovely walk along the river, with the added charm of being nearly seven miles,” she said, thrilled by the prospect of having him all to herself for such a length of time.
But then she recollected it would not come to pass. Now that their engagement had become so public, they could not abscond together in this fashion any longer. They would have to content themselves with shorter walks and convenient companions, Elizabeth told herself, and just as she was trying to see the diverting side of the matter, a sudden thought intruded – one which could not be regarded as diverting under any circumstances. Her countenance fell, and Darcy could not fail to notice.
“What troubles you, my love?” he whispered.
She gave a little grimace.
“I have just remembered that Mr Collins will join us for dinner.”
“I daresay we shall survive the experience,” Darcy said with a wry laugh, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
“Aye. Only just. Yet it pains me to expose you to such displays.”
“Pray, do not make yourself uneasy, not on my behalf. There are congenial companions aplenty, and not even Mr Collins could counterbalance that.”
Despite his assurances, Elizabeth ruefully shook her head.
“I thank you for your efforts to spare my feelings, but congenial company aside, you were not at ease yesterday, nor did you seem happy, and I dread to think of adding Mr Collins to the mix.”
“Did I not?” he needlessly asked as he glanced away, quite unprepared for this and not that comfortable under her close scrutiny either .
“Not exactly, no.” Elizabeth set down her cup, and turned to face him. “So I assumed that something troubled you.”
“Perhaps,” Darcy owned cautiously, “but not what you imagine.”
“What, then, if you do not mind my asking?”
“Idle thoughts,” he said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. “Do not concern yourself, I beg you, all is well,” he added, only to instantly regret his flippant manner, as the turn of her countenance clearly told him that she had hoped for a better answer. He exhaled and frowned at his faux pas . “Forgive me,” he said quietly, with a small penitent smile. “There is a great deal I still have to learn.” He covered her hand with his and continued. “I have grown accustomed to keeping all my vexations to myself over the years. Old habits die hard, they say, but I shall try to conquer them sooner rather than later, if you can bear with me.”
She could not help laughing at this, and he lowered his voice even further.
“Yesterday I chose to brood on my reluctance to share you with so many others, particularly as we had to keep our distance, and on all manner of idle thoughts of the same bent, such as the unprofitable exercise of counting the days of our engagement, or dwelling on my fears of somehow losing you,” he owned with sudden candour and a smile that endeavoured to made light of his disquiet.
It was hardly the best time or indeed the best setting for heartfelt disclosures, he knew that well enough, but he was not about to let the moment pass without reassuring her that it was not his intention to keep his thoughts from her, either now or later – and the look he received in return was well worth the effort to go against his ways.
“You will not, you know,” she barely had time to whisper, before the door was opened and their privacy was gone.
Their hands swiftly returning to their earlier employment, they both looked up, assuming it would be Georgiana, although it was not her usual time. But it was not Georgiana. It was Kitty, and Darcy was amused to notice that although the distance they were now keeping was the very essence of propriety, she blushed quite noticeably at having interrupted their tête-à-tête , leaving him in no doubt as to her good information.
Had he not guessed it already, Kitty gave proof of it herself, when she gathered the courage to come and congratulate them warmly and express her delight at their future connection .
The door opened again and the others kept coming – Colonel Brandon; Georgiana; Bingley and his wife – and before too long, family and guests were all gathered around the breakfast table.
Mrs Bennet was amongst the last to arrive, and when the door opened to admit her, Darcy’s back unconsciously stiffened as he braced himself against the expectation of a warm and very public welcome into the family fold. To his increased but well disguised dismay, as he looked around he noticed that one of the few remaining chairs was squarely at his side. He cleared his throat and suppressed a sigh praying for ease and patience, and the ability to keep his discomfort under regulation.
To his surprise, Mrs Bennet did not seem all too eager to occupy that particular seat and her manner, in response to his civil greeting, was such as to baffle him exceedingly. Had he not known better, Darcy would have stared. She was subdued and, by Jove, quiet . Other than offering very flustered thanks when he assisted her with her chair, for the entire duration of the meal she barely spoke to him, unless it was in her power to show him any attention, or mark her deference for his opinion.
Thus, when breakfast was over, Darcy felt less wary of addressing Mrs Bennet and civilly requesting the privilege of a private interview.
The conversation was brief and to the point. Although Elizabeth did not require anyone’s permission to marry, it was only natural for him to seek her mother’s blessing and, having had more than his share of untimely interruptions, Darcy lost little time in doing so.
Fortunately for him – and for Mrs Bennet – she was forewarned, and thus they were both spared the first raptures of her joy and the violence of her delight and approbation. The lady began instead to vigorously fan herself, her complexion so heightened that the young man almost entertained some fears for her safety.
The blessing he sought was hastily given, followed within moments by a full repetition of the same, presumably in order to disperse all doubt regarding her approval. Eventually, as the lady began to thank him for his condescension, Darcy bowed and attempted to excuse himself, only to be stopped by a breathless query:
“When do you wish to marry? As soon as may be, I assume, do you not?” Mrs Bennet asked, and Darcy could not decide whether to be diverted or affronted by her obvious fear that he might reconsider .
Old sayings about gift horses sprung to mind as he forbore from reassuring her it would never happen.
“Indeed. But ultimately it will be Miss Bennet’s choice,” he said instead.
“So very good of you to say so! Of course, of course. But she is as good-natured a girl as ever lived, my Lizzy. She would not object to any scheme that would make you and her family happy.”
Darcy bowed in response and Mrs Bennet continued.
“Would you wish to be married in town? Or in Derbyshire? I fear Farringdon might be too far off the beaten track for your taste.”
“’Tis of no consequence, Ma’am.” – ‘As long as we do wed, and do not wait too long,’ he privately added. – “I would assume that Miss Bennet would prefer to be married from Netherfield, if it could be arranged. I have not spoken to her of this, nor to my friend or Mrs Bingley, but she is bound to have a greater attachment to Longbourn Church.”
“My dear Mr Darcy, what a splendid notion! Married from Netherfield, by special licence! I daresay my late husband’s cousin will be eager to officiate,” she sniffed, clearly put out by the afterthought, and Darcy inwardly shuddered. “You may remember him from your visit to Longbourn. Reverend Collins. He is now married to my third daughter, Mary. But,” the lady suddenly brightened, “perchance there is a man of the cloth in your family, who could marry you? I must say, it does add to the occasion to have the ceremony performed by one’s relation, but I would certainly prefer it was one of your own.”
“Miss Bennet and I will be perfectly satisfied with the vicar of Longbourn,” Darcy hastily replied. “But we can resolve upon such details later.”
“Oh, aye, we can indeed. There are several other matters to be considered. The wedding clothes, we must make arrangements for the wedding clothes! It will take an age, and we must begin directly. Such a great pity that I had no notion of your engagement while I was still in town! I could have gone to the best warehouses and arranged everything. Everything that could be settled without Lizzy’s measurements, that is to say. Now we shall have to rely on my sister Gardiner, and my brother too, but what do men know of such things? Oh, I do beg your pardon, Sir, of course you would know, what with having a younger sister to dispose of in marriage—
The brief flustered pause gave Darcy a good opportunity to interject:
“Perhaps we could discuss this another time, and make plans to travel to town after the ball? Miss Bennet would undoubtedly wish to be involved in the preparations.”
“The sweetest girl there ever was, my Lizzy,” the lady declared, a sentiment with which Darcy could not fail to concur. “But I should write to my brother Gardiner at once. They were going to join us just before the ball, you see, he had some business to attend to, something about a delay in shipping, but surely Lizzy’s forthcoming marriage takes precedence over that. She has always been a favourite with them. Well, no matter. I am persuaded they will come directly, as soon as they are told.”
Having made a mental note to warn Elizabeth of her mother’s sudden interest for correspondence, Darcy eventually succeeded in extricating himself from Mrs Bennet’s company. He found the opportunity to broach the subject a little later, while they were strolling through the gardens, leisurely followed by Kitty and Georgiana as conspicuously reluctant chaperones.
“Have you had the chance to write to your uncle and aunt about our engagement?” he tentatively began.
“I have written to my aunt Gardiner yesterday,” she owned. “Why do you ask?” But then it occurred to her, and she blushed. “I assume my mother has expressed her intention to write to them directly,” she said, and he made no reply.
His silence served as confirmation, and Elizabeth sighed. With a smile, Darcy was about to turn to her and remind her of the pact they had recently made, whereby they had agreed to be diverted by what they could not change, when a murmur of voices coming from somewhere ahead gave him pause. Before they could change course, a subdued exclamation reached their ears:
“And all this time, then, you have been engaged?
A deeper voice replied, which sounded very much like Mr Ferrars.
“Until the announcement of their marriage, I was. I have known myself to be so, bound by a youthful fancy I had long regretted. Elinor, I—”
“Should we return for luncheon?” Darcy quietly suggested, as they stopped in their tracks and turned to retrace their steps .
“By all means,” Elizabeth agreed, privately wondering what was about that particular bench on the path leading to the shrubbery, to make it so conducive to all manner of disquieting confessions between lovers. Perhaps she should ask Jane if it had been cursed. Or maybe the reverse was true, she mused, remembering their own better understanding, as she happily leaned on Mr Darcy’s arm.
~ ** ~
“Mrs Jennings, may I introduce Mr Collins and my sister, Mrs Collins.”
“Delighted, Ma’am,” Mr Collins declared with the unctuous civility Elizabeth remembered only too well, while Mary curtsied.
It was destined to be a long evening, for Mr Collins’ recently gained independence did not make him any less obsequious. He was master of his own estate now and in no need to bow and scrape, but apparently it had become part of his nature to do so, regardless. His manner of address to people of higher social standing, and to Darcy in particular, could not but test the patience of his sensible relations.
Nevertheless, the atmosphere at dinner was not so very bad. Although Mr Collins did his best to monopolise the conversation, the party was too large for him to succeed. Sadly, he did have his way when the gentlemen adjourned to Mr Bingley’s study, and what might have been a pleasant interlude promptly turned into a tedious affair, from which Darcy was eager to make his escape.
His glance sought Elizabeth as soon as he walked into the drawing room, only to notice her visible discomfort. The reason for it became instantly clear, as Mrs Jennings accosted him before he had advanced many steps.
“What say you, Mr Darcy?” she called. “I was just reminding our friend Lizzy here that slyness does not go a long way with me. Have I not said that you seemed distinctly disappointed when you called in Portman Square? Well, you did not look disappointed at all when I saw you again at Netherfield. ‘Tis a wonder, is it not, what a difference a few weeks can make, when people follow their heart. I am delighted for you, and no less for my reputation, I assure you,” she added with a hearty laugh. “It will not do to give the impression that my powers of perception are failing me as I advance in age.
Hard upon his heels, Mr Collins hastened into the room to have his say:
“My dear Madam, in my experience powers of perception become even keener. Why, I remember, when I informed my esteemed patroness of my forthcoming marriage—”
“Would you care for some coffee, Mr Collins?” Mary timely intervened, leaving Elizabeth to wonder how much of her sister’s apparent contentment with the married state derived from real comforts, and how much from constant and attentive management.
“Thank you, my dear, that would be very good. As I was saying, when I had the honour of informing Lady Catherine de Bourgh of my impending nuptials, the great lady could easily ascertain, merely from my descriptions, without even having met my future wife that, to my great advantage, I was able to follow her instructions to the letter. ‘Choose properly,’ her ladyship had urged me, ‘choose a gentlewoman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up too high, but able to make a small income go a long way.’   Not that our income is small nowadays, but nevertheless… ‘Find such a woman as soon as you can,’ she had advised me, ‘bring her to Hunsford and I will visit her.’ And you can rest assured that her ladyship was true to her word, not that a person of her moral standing could be otherwise. Is that not so, my dear? We were greatly honoured by her ladyship’s attentions during your short time at the Hunsford parsonage. But then, naturally, we had to relinquish the superior society of Rosings when a certain sad event occurred, of which I shall speak no further. Lady Catherine could not possibly condescend to call upon us here.”
Darcy sipped from the cup of coffee that Kitty had just poured for him, nearly scalding himself in the process, as he wondered what – if anything – governed the man’s tongue. Within moments, he had contrived to put together a speech guaranteed to distress, mortify or offend everyone present. Elizabeth’s countenance spoke volumes of the depth of her vexation, and without further ado Darcy put his cup down and walked towards her.
“Miss Bennet, can I persuade you to take a turn about the room with me?” he said, thankful for the small mercy of no longer having to withhold his attentions.
She nodded, but before she could make her excuses and leave her seat, Mrs Bennet spoke up .
Truth be told, she had never come to like the vexing, verbose man, nor could she reconcile herself to having to quit her home in his favour – not even when the threat of the entail was removed by Mary’s engagement, followed by the bequest of Farringdon. And now his careless references to Mr Bennet’s passing and his pining for the superior society in Kent could do nothing but antagonise her further. Her only consolation came from Mr Darcy, all solicitous attentions for her dear Lizzy. What a clever, clever girl to have made such a match! Even dear Bingley was nothing in comparison, nothing at all.
“Then perhaps you should have remained in Kent, Mr Collins,” she said tartly. “No doubt others could have managed Longbourn in your stead. As to the society in Hertfordshire, I daresay not even the great lady herself will find cause to object, when she comes to attend her nephew’s nuptials in Longbourn Church.”
“Good Lord,” Darcy muttered, as he briefly met Elizabeth’s eyes.
Very few reacted, as knowledge of his family connections was not at all widespread. It was only Bingley, his wife and Elizabeth that looked up in astonishment at Mrs Bennet’s smug pronouncement. As for Mr Collins, the snub had gone completely unnoticed. It was only the remark about her ladyship that sank in.
“Lady Catherine’s nephew marrying in Longbourn Church? Which nephew is that?”
“Why, Mr Darcy, of course. How many nephews does her ladyship have?”
‘Five, actually. Three on the Fitzwilliam side’ , Darcy privately supplied, quite at a loss as to how to end the matter without causing Elizabeth further distress. He noticed Collins turning away from Mrs Bennet to cast him a look of stupefaction, and for a moment Darcy hoped the man would not have the gall to question him outright.
He was wrong.
“But Mr Darcy, why would you marry in Hertfordshire?”
“The details have not been fixed yet, Sir,” Darcy replied evenly, not wishing to be drawn into it.
“I would urge you to try the walnut cake,” Mrs Bingley tactfully intervened. “Shall I cut you a piece, Ma’am? Mr Collins?”
But her mother’s effusions were not to be stopped with walnut cake .
“Because, Mr Collins, in his condescension and I daresay his great affection for his bride, Mr Darcy thinks that Lizzy might wish to be married in the church where she has worshipped ever since she was a little girl,” Mrs Bennet triumphantly announced.
Darcy’s jaw tightened.
How was it possible for a man of his understanding to disregard a fundamental precept: that on no account should one talk to Mrs Bennet of anything but the weather! Still, he could at least note that the look of vexation and distress on Elizabeth’s countenance had temporarily softened into something akin to tenderness, before she remembered to blush for yet another of her mother’s improprieties.
Across from him, Mr Collins gaped.
“Lizzy? My cousin… er… Lizzy? Mr Darcy is to marry Lizzy?
“Yes, Mr Collins, I am to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Darcy replied in a tone dangerously reminiscent of the last time they had spoken, almost a year ago, at Longbourn. “Do not make yourself uneasy about not having wished us joy,” he added dryly. “You could not have known. It has not been formally announced yet.”
“Indeed,” Bingley intervened, belatedly coming to his friend’s aid. “The plan was to announce it at the ball.”
“My dear Mr Bingley, how very thoughtful! The ball was meant to be in honour of their engagement? Oh, dear! Then I fear I have spoken out of turn,” Mrs Bennet said, rather flustered, and Darcy was not alone in valiantly resisting the impulse to roll his eyes while inwardly scoffing, ‘Oh, Madam, surely not!’
Marianne, who caught a little of the discussion from where she sat in conversation with her sister, their future husbands, Kitty and Georgiana, wondered whether now might be a good time to come and offer her formal congratulations – but she thought better of it and turned her attention back to her companions, feigning selective deafness, as soon as Mr Collins’ stutter reached her ears:
“But— But— What of the fair Miss de Bourgh?”
What of the fair Miss de Bourgh, Sir?” Mrs Bennet asked in some irritation, and before anyone could intervene, the unstoppable cleric made public his concern:
“I have it on the best authority that Miss Anne de Bourgh, Lady Catherine’s daughter, has been destined for Mr Darcy from her earliest hours. Cousin Elizabeth,” he urged, turning towards her, his countenance a picture of  solemn horror, “I beg you and your noble admirer to consider, and not run hastily into a marriage which defies family obligations and can never be properly sanctioned. Her ladyship would doubtlessly be most seriously displeased!”
At least five people in the room gave the distinct impression that they might consider extreme measures to silence the man, but it was Darcy who spoke first, without any further attempt to disguise his vexation.
“Mr Collins, your diligence on my family’s behalf is quite extraordinary, but I would thank you, Sir, to desist from addressing matters which are none of your concern.” Then, with his voice and manner instantly softened, he turned to Elizabeth again. “May I have the pleasure of your company, Miss Bennet?” he asked and, as she rose, he perfunctorily presented their excuses and led her through the open door onto the terrace.
Uncomfortable silence followed in their wake, until Bingley suddenly cried:
“Do let us have a little music. Kitty, Miss Marianne, Mrs Collins, can we persuade you?”
Judging by the superior execution, Elizabeth gathered it must have been Marianne who swiftly acceded to the request. With a long sigh, she came to rest her palms on the cool top of the stone banister. She was almost afraid to raise her eyes towards the man standing beside her, half wondering how it was possible that he should still be at her side, but nevertheless did so, only to find him observing her with undisguised concern. A muffled sound escaped her – half laughter, half sob – and she voiced the thought that gave her pain.
“I fail to see why you would still wish to marry me.”
His first response was to exhale – a violent, impatient sound.
“Elizabeth, no more, I beg you! You are my life, and we shall marry, because we would not wish it otherwise.”
Her soft little laugh was genuine this time, as she briefly leaned her head against his shoulder.
“In that case,” she whispered, her warm breath tickling his ear, “perhaps we should consider Gretna Green.”
~ ** ~
A good semblance of a convivial atmosphere awaited in the drawing room some too short minutes later, when they returned to the house. Unbeknownst to them though, Mr Collins had been rather vocal in their absence. Darcy’s outburst had merely made him quieter, but could not silence him altogether. Throughout Marianne’s performance, his profound unease was put in a lengthy monologue to his wife, whose repeated attempts to change the subject were proved utterly fruitless.
Fortunately for everyone concerned, Mrs Bennet was seated too far from him to overhear, and thus could not be vexed by anything but the incessant muttering coming from the insufferable man. Yet the same could not be said of Jane, who had the doubtful privilege of hearing every word.
It was wholly contrary to her nature to assume the worst of people, nor was she likely to place too much reliance on Mr Collins’ words, but the overhearings gave her an unsettling understanding of what sort of welcome – or rather lack thereof – Lizzy might expect from her future relations.
She was no stranger to the circumstance herself. After all, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst had hardly become her affectionate sisters. Mrs Bingley did not judge them – not as such – but that did not make her blind to their shortcomings. She was saddened by their insincerity, but not truly pained. Her only true concern was for her husband’s sake, and even that was largely for naught as Charles, although fond of his sisters, was not close to them in any ways that mattered.
Yet the same could not be said of Mr Darcy and his relations. There clearly was a very strong bond between him and his cousin. Was it unreasonable to assume that he might be equally close to the rest of the Colonel’s family? And, should Mr Collins be at all accurate about that family’s response to Mr Darcy’s marriage, would it not cause Lizzy a great deal of pain?
Jane had no doubts regarding Mr Darcy’s affection for her sister, and fully rejoiced in it, for both their sakes. Still, she could not help being concerned on Lizzy’s behalf. Lizzy was not like her. Her sister was warm and exuberant whereas she was calm and dispassionate. Much like Mr Darcy himself, Jane noted with affectionate surprise, she was not pained by reserve. Quite the contrary. But Lizzy thrived on openness and trust .
It was fortunate for them both that the very reserved Mr Darcy could show his feelings to those he deeply cared for – but would that be enough?
Lizzy had been surrounded by affection and esteem all her life, although more freely given from some quarters than others. She was not their mother’s favourite, there was truth in that, and had met with a great deal of silliness from their younger sisters, but she had never been maligned, slighted or despised. She had not received lavish displays of affection from their mother, but she had always had their father’s devotion and respect. Theirs was a noisy and less than decorous family, but never cold or deliberately hurtful. And Jane could not be sure of Lizzy’s lasting happiness, if most of her new family chose to show her nothing but disdain.
Such thoughts and the unwelcome recollection of the scene she had unwittingly witnessed from her window not very long ago conspired to distress Mrs Bingley, so much so that she decided to speak up. Thus, on the following morning, she resolved that her mother, Elizabeth and Kitty should visit the nursery and admire the christening gown that had seen two generations of Bingley babes making their first appearance in church, as well as all the lace, cloth and garments lovingly put together for the new arrival. While they were thus employed, with profuse apologies Jane begged to be excused, for she had to attend to a ‘household matter’ .
She smoothed her dress as she walked towards the seldom used sitting-room at the far end of the corridor, and rather unsteadily drew breath before opening the door.
She advanced into the room with a smile.
“Mr Darcy. How kind of you to spare the time. Pray be seated, Sir. I have ordered us some refreshment. Would you care for tea, or would you prefer coffee?”
Darcy declined both and eventually sat, puzzled but persuaded there was more to this interview than sharing a cup of coffee. For a while neither spoke, the gentleman patiently waiting for the lady to gather her thoughts.
“I believe I should start by apologising for my failure to control the situation yesterday. I fear some of our relations are not inclined to think before they speak,” Mrs Bingley eventually began .
Darcy put a hand up and smiled.
“Pray, do not make yourself uneasy. ‘Tis of no consequence. Who has not wished, at some time or another, to be allowed to choose their relations?” he observed lightly.
Jane’s response, however, was not a matching smile but a quiet “Precisely.” She turned towards the tray on the nearby table. “Are you quite certain you would not like some tea?”
“Quite, I thank you,” Darcy replied, and Mrs Bingley poured herself a cup instead.
It was obviously done just for the purpose of giving her hands temporary employment, for she abandoned it on the small table as soon as she had finished pouring it. After another period of silence, Mrs Bingley gathered enough courage to turn to her companion and look him in the eye.
“Mr Darcy,” she began, “I hope you will forgive me for what I am about to say, and ascribe it solely to the right cause. As I am sure you know, Lizzy is very dear to me. I should not wish to see her hurt in any way. She is… not as unaffected by adversity as she would wish us all to think. My sister is a very private person, Sir, perhaps surprisingly so, given her lively disposition and open manner. She would be cheerful and apparently unflappable, laugh at what she would call follies, whims and nonsense – and I might add, unmerited slights. She would not show it, but she would be affected by unremitting censure. And she would need a great deal of affection to compensate for that.”
Mrs Bingley turned to her tea and took a sip to mask her discomfort, then slowly replaced the cup on the saucer.
“I fear Lizzy will not thank me for having spoken to you in this fashion,” she concluded with a little smile, in an attempt to make light of the situation.
“I will not mention it. Not for a while, at least,” Darcy assured her truthfully, “although you would imagine that I do not relish keeping matters from your sister.”
“No, of course not,” Jane replied quietly, and Darcy leaned forward in his seat.
“Mrs Bingley,” he began. “I greatly appreciate your candour and the sentiments behind it. Pray allow me to respond in kind. I cannot vouch for all my relations, nor for the reception we shall have in town. But I will not allow any discourtesy, from anyone, in my presence or otherwise. As to your final point,” he added softly, “you can rest assured, of affection your sister will never be in want.”
Jane smiled.
“I never doubted it, of course. I only wanted you to understand.”
Darcy leaned back in his seat and returned the smile, oddly comfortable with the unprecedented circumstance of being taken to task by Mrs Bingley, the obvious devotion she had for Elizabeth bringing them together in a closer bond than they had ever shared. Quite unexpectedly, Darcy felt he had truly acquired another sister and, with the same warm affection he would have shown Georgiana, he reached for Jane’s hand.
“I do understand, and I thank you. You need not fear,” he added with a little laugh, which Jane with some relief echoed, “I know when I have been warned.”