Chapter 5

Bingley’s Bedchamber

Netherfield Hall

Saturday, 30 th November

Charles Bingley finished the final touches on his cravat and looked himself over in the mirror. He looked very fine indeed, in his pale yellow shirt and olive morning coat, freshly brushed and fitted to him quite nicely. He hoped that Jane would like it. He intended to ride over to Longbourn as early as reasonable and spend the day in his beloved’s company.

His small mantel clock was chiming only eight, and the sun was surging bravely above the eastern horizon. He had planned to sleep later so that he did not need to wait long to call on his bride to be, but sleep quite eluded him. Visions of his beautiful Jane danced through his dreams, excitement filling him like a fizzing drink overflowing its vessel when he awoke.

He reached for his hat. “Thank you, Wentworth,” he said courteously to his valet, “I shall not need you for some hours.”

“Yes, sir, very good, sir,” his trusted man said with a small bow, and Bingley exited his room to descend the stairs with cheerful exuberance and a bounce in his step. The entrance hall was filled with light, the parquet floor gleaming like caramel. Bingley grinned out of the tall windows at the sunlight and azure sky. It seemed fitting, the day matching his mood perfectly.

But nothing could crush him today. Had it been pouring rain, freezing sleet, dumping thick snow, it would not have mattered. He would have greeted an icy road or a muddy one with equal aplomb, unfazed by any trivial inconveniences. It was, however, a further source of satisfaction that he would not be appearing before his darling splashed with mud, and he gave the sun a satisfied nod before turning away from the window.

“Good morning, sir,” the butler said.

“Good morning, Simmons! I will be at Longbourn for much of the day, but if something important requires my attention, please send a servant.”

“Of course. May I offer my congratulations to you, sir? Miss Bennet is a fine lady.”

“She is wonderful ,” Bingley replied happily. “I can hardly believe that I was so fortunate as to win her! Do you know if breakfast is available?”

Simmons coughed delicately and said, “I fear not, sir, as it is somewhat earlier than normal, but I will send word to the kitchen. Oh, Mr. Darcy is awake, sir, and said that he would appreciate speaking to you as soon as possible.”

Bingley blew out a breath, his spirits slightly dampened. He had no desire to listen to Darcy berating him, but he could not ignore his friend’s request, either; the master of Pemberley had been a wonderful friend for many years.

“Is he in the drawing room?”

“In the library, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Bingley strode toward the library, squaring his shoulders as he went. While he would listen courteously to Darcy’s strictures, he had no intention of confessing to any sort of mistake. He loved Jane, Jane loved him, and they would be very happy together.

He opened the door to the library and looked around. A fire blazed in the hearth already, and the bank of southern-facing windows flung the early morning sunlight across the carpets and glowing wooden shelves. The shelves themselves were highly polished, which was just as well; they had very few books to hide their surfaces. Bingley stepped inside, pondering the deep plush chairs and wingback chairs and sconces on the walls. It was a very comfortable room, but it seemed more like a sitting room than a library.

Movement from his left drew his attention as Darcy set aside a book and stood up.

“Bingley,” his friend said. “Thank you for taking time to see me when you doubtless are eager to ride to Longbourn.”

“It is still rather too early for that,” Bingley said with a somewhat strained smile, “though I have no desire to trade barbs over my engagement, so…”

“No, no,” Darcy interposed, “I have no intention of haranguing you. Indeed, I wish to apologize. You were entirely correct about Miss Bennet. It is now obvious to me that she admires and cares for you very much.”

“I am glad that you think so!” Bingley replied, looking startled.

“I have realized that I, well, I fear that I was not as evenhanded in my assessment as I should have been. It is, in my view, not a great match because of the … well, you know that I disapprove of certain aspects of the Bennets’ behavior, but you are engaged, and you are happy, and Miss Bennet is a lovely and kindly woman, so I apologize for my attempt to interfere, and I offer my hearty congratulations.”

Bingley beamed. “You are entirely forgiven, of course! I am glad you agree about my darling Jane, and as for the rest of the family, I do not particularly care about their antics. It is not as if Jane and I will be living with her sisters!”

Darcy stared at his friend, strongly tempted to point out that given that the Bennets’ estate was entailed away from the female line, and that Mr. Collins, the current heir, would be permitted to throw the ladies out after Mr. Bennet’s death, Bingley would likely find himself living with and supporting his new mother-in-law and sisters-in-law at some point, but he managed to keep his mouth shut.

Bingley was, for better or for worse, committed.

“When will you be married?” he asked instead.

“Well, as to that, we are not quite certain, but as soon as possible! Jane and I will discuss it in detail today, but we do not wish to wait, especially as Netherfield needs some attention. I assume you are familiar with the country customs surrounding Boxing Day?”

Darcy wrinkled his brow. “You speak of the custom of giving boxes of gifts to the servants and tenants?”

“Yes. Do you perform those duties at Pemberley?”

“I pay for the clothing and foodstuffs, but do not arrange for the boxes. It is generally the purview of the lady of the house, but given that Pemberley does not have a mistress, our housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, manages the purchases and the packing of the boxes, and our male servants deliver them to the tenants.”

“I am quite determined to do my duty to the Netherfield tenants this year. Jane and her mother informed me that they have been sadly neglected for years because Netherfield was standing empty.”

Darcy blinked. “You spoke of Boxing Day?”

“Indeed! Caroline, of course, is quite incapable of doing it thanks to her injured ankle, nor does she know what kind of things would be helpful for tenants. Louisa is similarly uneducated in that area. So Jane and Elizabeth will be arranging for the presents, and I will pay.”

Darcy was impressed. Jane Bennet had doubtless longed for marriage for many years, but on the day of her engagement, she was already thinking about the servants and tenants of the Netherfield estate. It was a stark and welcome contrast from Miss Bingley, who had no interest in the servants beyond how they could meet her desires.

“I hope you will stand up with me at my wedding, Darcy?” Bingley asked.

“As for that, erm, it depends on when you wed. I am certain you will be spending the next days with Miss Bennet, and thus I intend to return to Town. I would be pleased to attend your wedding, but I also need to spend time with Georgiana.”

“Well, you are naturally very welcome to invite her to Netherfield! I am aware that your sister does not particularly enjoy country house parties, but it would only be for a short time, and we have plenty of space.”

Darcy bit his lip as he considered this. It was true that his sister preferred London and Pemberley to everywhere else, but there was another reason why he was disturbed at the thought of Georgiana at Netherfield. “I, erm, I am quite unable to bring Georgiana here.”

“Why ever not?”

“She, well,” Darcy began and lifted his gaze to meet his friend’s and continued, “I do not wish to take any chance of her meeting Lieutenant Wickham of the militia. She has fond memories of him from her childhood, but he is now a most ungodly rogue. It would, I fear, be difficult to manage if they met in company.”

Bingley frowned, and he wandered over to sit on a nearby chair. “Do sit down, Darcy. It is too early for brandy, but there is no need to stand here staring at one another.”

Darcy bit his lip again but sat down obediently. He did not want to talk about Wickham. He did not want to think about Wickham. He did not want to ever lay eyes on Wickham again!

“What kind of a rogue?”

“What?”

“What kind of a rogue is he, my friend,” Bingley asked, crossing one elegant leg over the other and focusing his attention on his gleaming boot. “A drunkard? A philanderer? A thief?”

“All of those things,” Darcy said bitterly and then, at the raised brow of his friend, continued, “if you believe that running up debts with no intention of paying is theft.”

“I do, rather,” his friend said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. “I am aware that it is common among the nobility and highly connected gentry to consider indebtedness of no concern, but I am not that far away from my roots as a tradesman.”

“I am entirely in agreement,” Darcy replied and found he could not sit anymore. He leaped to his feet and began striding up and down the floor in agitation. “Wickham left hundreds of pounds of debt in Lambton, a village near Pemberley; as my father’s godson, the good people of that town did not imagine that he could be a reprobate. I paid his debts, of course, because I could not allow the publicans and shopkeepers to be burdened in such a way.”

“What of the disputed living?” Bingley asked, regarding his friend intently.

Darcy stopped and spun around to stare. “The living?”

“The one that Wickham claims your father intended for him, and which you so cruelly refused to bestow upon him.”

“And where did you hear of that?” Darcy demanded indignantly.

“From Miss Bennet, who heard it from Miss Elizabeth, who heard it from the lips of the man himself.”

Darcy cursed softly and then lifted a placating hand. “My apologies for my strong words. It was the Kympton living, near Pemberley. My father did recommend Wickham for it, as he could not see what was so obvious to me, that his godson was a rascal and a scoundrel. To my relief, Wickham approached me soon after my father died and desired that I pay him three thousand pounds to relinquish the living, as he decided that he had no desire to become a rector. He said that he wished to study law, but that was merely pretense, of course. He was always lazy.”

“Three thousand pounds! A princely sum!”

“I would have paid more to keep him from tormenting the people of Kympton and ruining their daughters…”

He trailed off and turned away, suddenly aware of having said too much. He did not want to even hint of Georgiana’s near disaster only a few months previous.

“He is a danger to young women then?” Bingley demanded anxiously.

“Yes, he is,” Darcy said simply, now staring into the fireplace. His mind was on Georgiana now, of her tear-filled eyes and reddened face, of her drooping demeanor, of her depression…

“Dear God, Darcy, why did you not tell me this earlier?” Bingley cried out.

Darcy blinked and turned toward him. “Tell you about Wickham? Why should I?”

“ Why? Because I am master of Netherfield, and it is my tenants’ daughters who might be ruined by that man, and it is the people of Meryton, whom I will be doing business with, who may too easily trust a good-looking young man in a red coat.”

Darcy stared in wonder. Was that anger in his friend’s voice?

“I am tired of cleaning up Wickham’s messes,” he said resentfully. “I have dealt with him for more than fifteen years!”

“And this is my new home, Darcy!” Bingley replied indignantly and then continued, more gently, “Besides, you are my closest friend, and it enrages me that Miss Elizabeth thinks so poorly of you due to the lies of an unprincipled villain.”

Darcy froze at these words, his mind shifting back to the one time he had danced with Elizabeth Bennet, just a few days earlier at the Netherfield ball. She had championed Wickham and accused him of mistreating the man and he had not explained anything to her. Part of him was angry that she believed Wickham so readily, but then again, why would she not? He had insulted her the day they first laid eyes on one another, and Wickham was charming and handsome and had a very smooth tongue.

He groaned aloud and rubbed his forehead with one unquiet hand. It should not matter so much that Miss Elizabeth despised him, but somehow it did, very much.

Moreover, Bingley was right; as the area’s largest landowner, it was to his benefit that the tenants and local tradesmen be healthy and unharmed by the handsome godson of George Darcy.

“You are correct,” he heard himself say. “I know you plan to visit Miss Bennet today; perhaps we can convene when you return to discuss possible ways of dealing with Wickham.”