Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

December 13, London

" C an you not stand one more dinner, one more card party before retreating north?"

The pout on his aunt's face made Darcy smile. Her son, Colonel Fitzwilliam, had said much the same thing to him as soon as he had returned from Kent.

"I cannot. I have filled my calendar these past days in town."

Lady Matlock eagerly pounced. "I understand you dined with the Chathams and the Hollingsworths. Four daughters between them, and at least one niece."

"Yes, and a son and nephew with whom I attended university. We had a fascinating conversation on wheat prices and the odds of finding decent Cognac in the next year."

"I doubt the young ladies found it interesting."

"Had they been drinking brandy with us, I would agree. However, when we joined them afterwards, all four young ladies in attendance exhibited as their mothers directed. Two performed on the harp, one sang, and the last played the pianoforte."

His aunt's brow rose. "Were all delightfully talented?"

Darcy shrugged.

"And their accomplishments? Their beauty? Any further thoughts?"

"Two were scarcely older than Georgiana. All had excellent teeth."

"Teeth?" She threw up her hands. "It is like pulling teeth to learn about an evening spent in society, with eligible young ladies. Did you like any of them particularly?"

He shrugged, kissed her cheek, and began his walk back to Darcy House.

He was an honest man, but Darcy knew when to hedge. He would not tell her that none played with Miss Bingley's technical precision or spoke with the intelligence and wit of Elizabeth Bennet. One lady his aunt disliked, of the other she knew nothing. Only Richard had heard a word about his time spent at Netherfield, and when he finished the telling of it, and his cousin had finished laughing at the description of a mud-covered Collins, he had warned Darcy to take care.

"Three hours alone in her company. She is a rarity, capturing Fitzwilliam Darcy alone for so long."

"Not quite two hours, and never alone. Her idiot cousin was there for the entirety, and her neighbour as well for an hour or so." While Darcy would be pleased to never again think of Collins, he had liked Goulding, whose lively humour and protectiveness of Elizabeth had impressed him. Not that she had required such gallantry; she had had the situation well in hand.

"You say she did not play the simpering damsel in need of help or a proposal. What of her family?"

What could he say of the Bennets? Mr Bennet could not rouse himself to come to the boat-house, expressed more appreciation for the safe return of his horse than he did for his daughter, and dismissed any concern for her honour. He had been amused by the entire incident. Mrs Bennet appeared to blame Elizabeth for all of it once she learnt her daughter had again vigorously refused her cousin's proposal.

"They understood the events as innocent, and the only stain to remain would be any river mud that would not wash out."

Richard snorted. "You are fortunate, then, that it happened in a backwater and others were present. Your reputation will not suffer. The lady, however, may need to reconsider her answer to her overly persistent suitor."

"Bingley assures me all is well."

And so he had, although the effort to understand his letters had taken much time. Bingley remained in Hertfordshire, welcoming his aunts and some of Hurst's family to Netherfield, and—to what Darcy imagined was Miss Bingley's consternation—continuing to admire Jane Bennet. Darcy had written to him, explained he would not return to Netherfield, and invited him to come to London for a few days, where Bingley could shake off his infatuation.

But Bingley had declined, thanked him for settling his business in town, and established himself more firmly in Hertfordshire. He was young and not always steady in his resolve, but he was quick to decisions that, once made, usually stuck. It was a trait Darcy despaired of, yet envied. He was never so quick to decisions, preferring to deliberate and consider all sides of an issue. But Bingley had never carried the weight of guardian and almost parent to a much younger sister or master of a great estate or heir to an ancient family name and lineage. He was Charles Bingley, only son of a wealthy tradesman, with a fortune in the bank and a sister to marry off. He was a man of leisure, needing only to be refined and moulded and given purpose. Darcy had done what he could, and now could only hope Jane Bennet—if she was indeed the lady Bingley would make his wife—was all that she appeared to be and more like her sister Elizabeth than like her mother.

Miss Bennet had been all that was kind the morning he called on Longbourn. It was earlier than usual to pay a visit, barely ten o'clock, but he had set a meeting in town with Lady Catherine's solicitor at three o'clock, and did not wish to break it. The latest news from Kent had concerned him; a small dam between Rosings and a bordering estate had collapsed and flooded fields already seeded for spring and two tenant cottages. Lady Catherine blamed the tenants and her neighbour and demanded legal action; reason would not stop her and the solicitor likely wished only to please Lady Catherine.

Their meeting—and his trip to Kent to see the ruined fields and outbuildings for himself—had gone smoothly enough, but then, as now, his mind was less engaged with legal matters than it should have been. Instead, it was his call at Longbourn and his conversation with Miss Bennet that remained front of mind. He had been greatly disappointed not to see Elizabeth, and surprised to find her still abed.

"Is she well?"

"She is unaffected by yesterday's incident, but she was awake until nearly dawn. I heard her pacing in her room, and saw her candle lit," Miss Bennet told him quietly, once she had led him to a small parlour away from Mrs Bennet's glares and occupied by the youngest two Bennets and a table covered in buttons and lace. "I apologise for my mother. She is upset about what has occurred since yesterday, and blames Elizabeth for refusing Mr Collins, which has led him to abandon Longbourn and move to a neighbour's home."

"He has left?"

"The insult of Lizzy's refusal was so great, as was his sickness from his time in the rowboat, that he determined himself better hosted elsewhere. Lady Lucas was here at the time and invited him to come to Lucas Lodge."

"I see." The man was an idiot without manners but better he be farther away from Elizabeth.

"You should leave before Mama requests you bring Mr Collins back here," Miss Catherine said.

"Or marry Lizzy in his stead," said Miss Lydia, snorting with laughter.

Miss Bennet gave him an apologetic look. "Things are rather fraught at the moment. I shall tell Lizzy that you called. I understand your groom retrieved your coat earlier this morning."

"Yes, I thank you on behalf of whoever did the brushing." He bowed his head. "Please, give your sister my best wishes, and my thanks for her valiant rescue and good company. "

And that had been that. The six weeks he had spent in Hertfordshire had come to a close, and he was left with a curious pang, wondering—as a gossip might—about Collins and his matrimonial intentions and wishing he could have spoken to Elizabeth and heard her version of events. They had been briefly united in their dealings with Mr Collins, and he should have liked to tell her that as much of an ordeal as it may have been, rarely had he spent a more enjoyable time in a rainstorm.

Not rarely. Ever. There, in a dank boat-house with too many cobwebs and too few comforts, he had sat enthralled by Elizabeth's conversation, her wit and her rejoinders to Mr Collins. The stories of her childhood fascinations, and those boys so fascinated by her, painted a childhood so different from his more formal upbringing. A girl scampering through the fields, catching frogs, and playing cricket? No wonder those boys proposed. They saw a jewel when they were hardly out of leading strings, well before they even understood romantic stirrings.

Darcy shifted in his seat, regretting again that he had not seen her and ensured she was recovered. With Bingley remaining in Meryton, he pondered a brief return to Netherfield on the journey to Pemberley. Bingley's interest in Miss Bennet was such that there were likely daily calls between the estates. He imagined Elizabeth accompanied her sister on visits to Netherfield; he would enjoy watching the fireworks between Miss Bingley and the aunts who intimidated her, and hearing Elizabeth's observations on the delicate balance of servility and sarcasm being performed.

But he had no rational reason for such a visit. He had no connexion to Elizabeth Bennet that would allow him to hover, so to speak, and observe and enjoy her company. And he would have Georgiana with him, and he was unwilling to subject her to a place where Wickham might still lurk about, nor expose her to the mix of Bingley and Hurst relations there. He did not know Hurst's family, but had some idea of them; it would be best to maintain the distance for his sister's sake. Besides, he thought, only half-jokingly, once at Netherfield, it was likely Miss Bingley would do all within her power to keep him there. If she could not induce him to remain through her entreaties and wiles, she might break the axles on his carriage to force him and Georgiana to stay. No, best to close that chapter. He would return to Netherfield only if Bingley truly needed him—for assistance or for a wedding.

It was a most dissatisfying decision.