Chapter 9

East Sitting Room

Darcy stared absently out of the window as he relaxed back against his leather chair. The door was open, and the strains of one of Mozart’s Sonatas filtered from the adjacent music room, where Georgiana was losing herself in her playing. Any other day, he would be pleased to relax and listen to his sister show off her considerable musical talents.

Today was not any other day. Today, Miss Elizabeth Bennet graced the halls of Pemberley.

When he had received Richard’s last letter, he had been startled to learn that Anne’s companion during her time at Pemberley would be none other than Miss Elizabeth Bennet. His initial emotion was one of consternation. Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Here? At Pemberley? Within a minute, he had recovered his equanimity. It had, after all, been a full year since he had seen the lady. While it was true, he had found her almost magnetically attractive during his sojourn in Meryton, there was every reason to think that such a transient passion had withered on the vine of a year-long separation.

And it truly was a transient and foolish passion. Logically, she should have been wholly beneath his notice. She had neither wealth nor accomplishments to recommend her, her family and her connections could best be described as shocking, she was handsome but paled in comparison to her elder sister. Not even her manners could redeem her, for they were not at all fashionable. She was pert, and arch, and unlike the women of the haut ton, was entirely capable of teasing him, though with unfailing courtesy.

Despite all this, perhaps even because of this, he found her enchanting. Darcy was not accustomed to such vibrancy, such vitality, from the young ladies of the ton. He was not used to having a woman’s wit sharpened on him, nor being argued with by a young lady with laughing brown eyes. The previous year, he had retreated from Netherfield Hall to London to escape her.

He had thought that siren-call silenced after a year apart. But it had taken only his first glimpse of her, bright-eyed and curious as she descended from the carriage, for it to reawaken. Now he faced many weeks in her company, enduring her beguiling eyes and merry disputes. He would have to take great care to avoid losing his heart to this bewitching and eminently unsuitable woman.

He grunted and then turned his mind to another difficulty, that of the upcoming arrival of the Bingley party. He had thought, in the few days between Richard’s latest letter and the arrival of the Fitzwilliams and Miss Bennet, that perhaps this was a good thing, that Elizabeth Bennet’s presence would allow Bingley to think further about the eldest of the Bennet daughters.

Darcy had been feeling uneasy about Jane Bennet for some months. Bingley had genuinely loved the lady, and Darcy had discouraged his friend’s courtship of a woman who was, without a doubt, remarkably handsome, refined, and gracious. Moreover, he had heard, through Miss Bingley’s letter to Georgiana, that Miss Bennet had actually been in Town for several months at the beginning of the year. He had been careful to avoid telling Bingley that fact in any of his letters to his friend.

It seemed, at least, that he was correct about the former Miss Bennet’s indifference to Charles Bingley, given that the lady had wed another man only a few weeks ago.

That was all to the good, but Bingley would probably be startled by the news. He would try to tell his friend of it as soon as possible after his friend’s party arrived.

He sighed deeply. He had looked forward to a pleasant few weeks in the company of his married Fitzwilliam cousins and Bingley’s family, but given that Elizabeth Bennet was still wildly attractive to him, and that Miss Bingley disliked Miss Bennet, and that he would not have Richard to support him for long – well, the Christmas Season could well be far less peaceful that he had hoped.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened. He looked up to see one of the maids stepping into the room, with Miss Bennet right behind her. She was surpassingly lovely, in a blue muslin frock adorned only by a slender gray sash tied around. Her hair had been pulled up atop her head in a bun, but the simple style suited her. Her eyes were vibrant, and she smiled as she curtseyed.

Darcy leaped to his feet and bowed. Miss Bennet glanced around the sitting room with polite interest before returning her gaze to him.

“Mr. Darcy, I hurried down here in the hopes that I might be honored with a peek at your library, whose fame has stretched far beyond the confines of Derbyshire.”

No answer rose immediately to his tongue. This woman truly was magnificent; how many women of his acquaintance would see Pemberley and be curious at once about the wealth of knowledge in the library? And she combined intelligence with a genuine beauty – her eyes sparkled with life, her lips curved up in her joy. Darcy felt his heart pound as he regarded her in wonder.

“Of course,” he replied, and he hoped he had not delayed in responding too long.

He offered his arm with all the polished grace impressed upon him by a strict father, and she rested her hand upon it lightly with an arch glance up at him. He led her out the door and down the hall, the two of them strolling at a leisurely pace down the broad main corridor. Paintings, some landscapes and some portraits, adorned the walls, and they made desultory conversation about such painters as Sir Thomas Lawrence, Benjamin West, and Paul Sandby.

Darcy turned them down a side corridor and walked a few more paces to stop before double oak doors of imposing size. He leaned forward slightly to throw wide the library doors and pausing dramatically before escorting her inside, releasing her arm and lingering in the doorway as she moved further into the room with wide eyes.

He had always been justly proud of Pemberley’s library. It was a work of many ancestors before him, and he had faithfully purchased many books in his own lifetime. It was any bibliophile’s dream. Tall windows let in plenty of light. Oak shelves had been polished until they gleamed gold, and rank upon rank of books marched along in orderly rows. Clusters of leather upholstered chairs were drawn up near the generous stone fireplace, with sturdy tables set about for tea trays or books.

Miss Bennet drifted deeper into the room, eyes and mouth alike round with awe. She stopped to turn in a slow circle in the center of the room, and Darcy smiled to watch her obvious wonder and pleasure. She caught his eye and beamed brilliantly, and his breath caught, but she did not notice; she was off on a circuit of the room, to briefly examine every shelf and leather-bound spine she passed.

She turned again to face him and said, “Well, I confess to being almost, but not quite, dumbstruck. This library is truly a little slice of heaven.”

He grinned, even as he felt his chest puff with pride. “Thank you. It has been the work of many generations of Darcys.”

“You have every reason to be proud,” she agreed and spun around one more time before reluctantly shaking her head. “I suppose we must return to see the others, but I hope you do not mind if I sample some of the delights of this room at a later time?”

“Please enjoy any and all of these books as you wish,” he said expansively, and she chuckled, took a few steps toward the door, and said, “I think it would take more than one lifetime to read all of these books. You are indeed blessed, sir.”

“I am,” he agreed and offered his arm to escort her back to the sitting room, where the Fitzwilliams, Georgiana, and Mrs. Annesley were happily enjoying tea and tarts. Darcy reluctantly released Miss Bennet’s arm, and the twosome took their individual seats, while Georgiana, blushing, poured tea for the newcomers. Darcy took his tea with a smile of thanks and sat back as Richard and Miss Bennet, with some assistance from Mrs. Annesley, carried the bulk of the ensuing conversation.

He was not a loquacious man at the best of times, but now, with the memory of that small hand on his arm, he found himself unable to speak.

How was he to survive weeks of Miss Bennet’s tantalizing presence?

/

Pemberley

Two Days Later

It was not his first visit to Pemberley, and the woodlands – adorned in autumn colors – lining the lane were familiar. Bingley stared out at them, letting his sisters’ chatter wash over him. Caroline, as usual, dominated the conversation, with Louisa agreeing to all that their younger sister stated. It was nothing new; Bingley was entirely conversant with Caroline’s wish that he purchase an estate near to Pemberley and did not need to listen to her effusive praise of the beauty of Derbyshire and her eagerness to once again see her ‘dear Miss Darcy’ and Mr. Darcy too, of course!

Bingley vouchsafed only the briefest, vaguest answers when Caroline paused expectantly. In truth, his thoughts were not at all on his sister’s flow of eloquence. He eagerly anticipated a restful retreat to Pemberley and a chance to relax and gather himself. Sorrow weighed heavily on his soul at the loss of their Aunt Amelia. The matronly woman had kindly stepped into the spot left when his own mother had died, with Caroline still a small child. All three of the young Bingley siblings had loved her dearly and been grateful for her warm care.

Bingley was exhausted by the necessary tasks of the previous weeks; he was still grieving heavily as he executed her estate, seeing to the disposal of her house and her modest fortune. It had largely been divided between himself and his sisters, but he found no joy in the increase in his own wealth, coming as it did from the loss of their beloved aunt.

It was but a fresh layer of sorrow on an existing layer of dejection. Netherfield lurked in his mind, and the lovely Miss Jane Bennet haunted him. Bingley was aware that he tumbled into love quite easily, and out of it almost as easily. But his infatuation with Miss Bennet was not fading with time or distance. He still thought of her with wistful longing. He found himself daydreaming of her sweet smiles and kind, gentle words. Her beautiful face and graceful figure filled his dreams, and any time Caroline grew especially snide in her comments about those around her, he could not help contrasting her speech to that of Miss Bennet, who was never disagreeable.

If someone had asked him to design an ideal wife, she would be much akin to Miss Bennet. The greatest change that he would make would be that his ideal wife would love him for himself, rather than be pressured into an amiable but loveless marriage to escape her family’s penury. His heart ached for Miss Bennet, who would be consigned to the hedgerows after her father’s death, but he would be foolish to sacrifice his own desires for a union of mutual love and affection in order to preserve the Bennets from want.

But oh, how he wished it could have been different!

His introspection was broken as they jolted to a halt before Pemberley’s imposing front facade. Servants moved forward to take the horses and open the carriage door. Bingley stepped down and shook out his shoulders gratefully before turning to hand out each of his sisters in turn. Caroline smoothed her dress and pelisse and looked around appreciatively. Bingley donned his hat and turned as a liveried footman marched smartly up to them and bowed.

“Mr. Bingley?” the young man asked.

“Yes,” he replied with a nod.

“Please, will you and your party accompany me to Mrs. Reynolds? Your rooms are ready.”

“Thank you,” Bingley said as a number of other footmen hurried over to carry the family’s luggage.

“Bingley!”

Bingley looked up and grinned at the sight of Fitzwilliam Darcy, who was hurrying down the steps.

“Good morning, Darcy,” he said, and clapped his friend on the shoulder.

“Welcome to Pemberley,” Darcy replied before turning to the others. “Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, Mr. Hurst. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” Caroline said, looking up into her host’s face with a warm smile. “It is truly wonderful to see you again.”

“I am pleased to have you here as well,” Darcy said and then turned to Bingley. “I know you doubtless wish to refresh yourself, but I acquired a new horse recently and hope that you are willing to take a few minutes to look her over before you enter the house.”

Bingley’s brow rose in confusion, but he was always an amiable man. “Of course. I could use some time to stretch my legs after sitting so long!”

“Perhaps we could enjoy tea together in the drawing room in an hour?” Darcy suggested, turning toward the Hursts and Miss Bingley.

“That would be delightful,” Caroline cooed.

Darcy bowed and started to walk in the direction of the stables, and Bingley fell in beside him while the other three climbed the steps to the great door.

The two men were silent until they reached the stables, whereupon Darcy made his way to the tack room. A stable boy was rubbing oil into a saddle and looked up in astonishment at the sight of his master.

“Jeb, Mr. Bingley and I need a few minutes of privacy.”

“Of course, sir,” the young man replied, and after carefully setting down his oil and wiping his hands off, he hurried out of the room.

Bingley was now both bemused and concerned. “Darcy? Is something wrong?”

Darcy sighed and ran his hand over his forehead. “Not wrong, exactly, but I wanted to tell you ... well, Miss Elizabeth Bennet is currently residing at Pemberley.”

Bingley stared at his friend in wonder. “Miss Elizabeth? Why?”

“To be concise, she journeyed to Kent last spring to visit her friend, Mrs. Collins, wife of Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s rector. She struck up a friendship with my cousins, Richard and Anne Fitzwilliam, though this was before their marriage, of course. Anne wished for a friend to keep her company here and invited Miss Bennet to come along. I did not know ... that is, I encouraged them to bring whomever they pleased, but I had no idea that it was Miss Bennet who would be chosen ... I fear I am not explaining myself well.”

Bingley’s thoughts had, of course, shifted to Jane Bennet, but his friend’s unaccustomed stuttering provoked a look of wonder. “Darcy, do you still despise Miss Elizabeth?”

Darcy shook his head hastily and said, “No, no, of course not. Indeed, I did not even realize until a few months ago that she overheard my insult at the assembly in Meryton. She is, without a doubt, a most estimable lady. I was merely ... well, Bingley, the truth is that I worry that her presence here will be painful to you.”

“Because of Jane Bennet?”

Darcy blew out a breath and sighed. “The lady is now Mrs. Jane Russell, Bingley. She married a tradesman a few weeks ago.”

Bingley’s head snapped back as if he had been punched, and he felt all the air leave his lungs in a gigantic whoosh.

A full minute passed in silence, with Darcy opening his mouth and then closing it.

“She is wed?” Bingley finally asked through numb lips.

“Yes, she is,” Darcy replied, his tone heavy with sympathy.

Bingley looked around for a chair, found a stool, and sat down on it, his legs weak.

“I appreciate your warning, Darcy,” he said after two silent minutes. “I would have embarrassed myself if I had not … well, yes. You were obviously correct; Miss Bennet did not truly care for me.”

“I agree, and I am sorry.”

Bingley stared out the window at the trees. Only an hour ago, the beautiful foliage had lifted his spirits. Now, the loveliness of the outdoors only displayed, in sharp contrast, the depression of his spirits. He had, he realized, still been madly in love with Jane Bennet. And now she was out of his reach forever.