Chapter 23

On the Road to Longbourn

11 th November, 1811

Darcy swayed slightly as the Bingley carriage went around a turn in the road. Though his face was impassively calm, his mind was filled with the turmoil over his aunt's arrival at Netherfield Hall. Lady Catherine had greeted Bingley's fury with deep indignation and protests, but Bingley had remained adamant. Darcy had been a pillar of strength at his friend's shoulder, and eventually even Lady Catherine had folded under their combined force. She had withdrawn to her carriage, snapping at her driver harshly, and vanished down the road in a cloud of dust.

He had gone at once to check on his sister and cousin, who had retreated upstairs to Georgiana's sitting room. His ire flared hot anew as he remembered how pale Georgiana had been when he opened the door to step inside. Anne had been deeply relieved to hear that Bingley had thrown Lady Catherine out, heaving a long sigh that seemed to leach all the tension from her body. Georgiana's anxiety had lain in another direction.

"But Fitzwilliam, what about the Bennets?" she had asked, eyes wide and alarmed. "Might they not have been frightened and certainly upset by her temper?"

Darcy frowned. His gentle sister found Lady Catherine awe-inspiring and intimidating and could not imagine that the Bennet women would not be left in disarray in her wake. Darcy knew now that they were adept at handling the bad moods of those around them, but the interlude had doubtlessly been unpleasant, and he too was concerned.

Yesterday had been the Sabbath, and he had seen the Bennets in church, but the weather had been wet and windy, and everyone had returned to their homes promptly after services without any opportunity to speak about Darcy's obnoxious aunt.

The skies had cleared overnight, and thus he and Georgiana and Bingley were on the road to Longbourn, intending to pay a visit to the Bennets. Anne had declined to accompany them, preferring to stay within the fastnesses of Netherfield with Mrs. Annesley, the butler under strict orders not to admit Lady Catherine again should she return. Darcy was aware of a frisson of guilt. It was arguably his fault that his irascible aunt had descended on the Bennet ladies. In London he was always careful to never ask a lady to dance twice, lest he raise expectations, but then, it had never been necessary before. Every one of Bingley's previous ‘angels' had immediately turned her attention to Darcy the moment he had paid her the slightest regard.

He had dismissed all concerns of having raised expectations with the difference in country standards, but then, that was entirely his fault. The local gentry might be country folk, with a tendency to gossiping and vulgarity, but that did not make them stupid, or completely ignorant of their own social strata. Darcy was glad that Bingley had ordered Lady Catherine removed from Netherfield. But it was Darcy's responsibility that she had come to Meryton at all, and he owed the Bennets an apology for the disturbance.

The sound beneath the carriage wheels changed from that of dust and hard-packed dirt to gravel, and Darcy glanced out the window. They were rapidly approaching the house of Longbourn, and he straightened, eager to speak to the Bennet ladies.

/

Longbourn

Mary laid aside the bonnet she was trimming as the door opened to admit their butler and guests, and Jane and her mother looked up from the list they were consulting together. Elizabeth, who had been knitting, hastily set her needles and the half-finished sock on them down into the basket at her feet and joined her family in standing.

"Miss Darcy, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley," Mr. Stewart intoned.

The Bennet ladies curtsied, and Georgiana curtsied in return, and the gentlemen bowed, and within a minute everyone was seated.

Darcy waited until the door closed behind the butler and, disregarding any pleasantries, leaned forward. "Mrs. Bennet, Misses Bennet, I wish to apologize for Lady Catherine's decision to call upon you two days ago without notice or introduction. I do not know exactly what she said to you, but I am certain it was neither kind nor in any fashion accurate to the truth."

"That is an excellent way to describe your aunt's visit," Mrs. Bennet agreed with a slight smile. "Lady Catherine demanded to speak to Jane alone, and when I refused a private audience between them, she indignantly declared, among other things, that she had no intention of allowing an upstart girl from Hertfordshire to sway her nephew away from his duty to wed her daughter."

The visitors all winced, and Bingley groaned aloud.

"I am so very sorry, Miss Bennet," Georgiana said, her blue eyes filmed with tears. "It must have been dreadful for you!"

Jane shrugged. "I was well enough, I assure you. The entire situation was absurd, and with my mother and sister to support me, I was not greatly cast down by Lady Catherine's ridiculous words."

"You are very brave," the girl said tremulously. "My aunt rather frightens me."

"She has no power over us," Mrs. Bennet said with a casual wave of the hand. "I do wish to say, Mr. Darcy, that village customs are likely different from those of London. Here in Meryton, asking a lady for two dances is considered a sign of substantial attraction on the part of the gentleman. I just thought that I would drop you a hint on that matter, as I am confident you have no particular interest in my eldest daughter."

Darcy felt himself flush at this delicate set down, and Bingley shifted his feet uncomfortably and said, "I fear that is partly my fault. I was eager to … well, I had asked Miss de Bourgh, as the niece of an earl, for the first dance, and I wished for Miss Bennet to know how much I esteemed her, and Darcy…"

He trailed away, and Jane said, "It is quite all right. We understand that the whole situation was due to a ridiculous confluence of events. I would like to know, however, whether Lady Catherine is likely to return to Longbourn a second time?"

"No," Darcy replied promptly. "She left for London after meeting with me at Netherfield."

The Bennets exchanged pleased glances, and Elizabeth said, "I am glad to hear it."

Silence fell for an uncomfortable minute, and then Mary cleared her throat and said, rather timidly, "I do not know if you have heard, but I am engaged to marry Mr. Collins, my father's heir, who holds the Hunsford living in Kent."

There was a brief quiet before Bingley smiled and said, "That is wonderful news. I am happy for you, Miss Mary!"

Mary smiled back. "I am very pleased as well. Mr. Collins and I will be marrying after the banns are read, and I was hoping, if it is not an imposition, if you could tell me more about the estate of Rosings, Mr. and Miss Darcy."

"Rosings?" Darcy repeated in confusion.

"Yes. Mr. Collins has told me about the parsonage and the great house, but I wondered about the lands and tenantry. I will soon be the wife of a clergyman, and wish to assist the people of the parish as well as possible, and I understand from my fiancé that you visit the estate on a regular basis."

Darcy stared at Mary Bennet in amazement. It was a rare lady who cared for the tenants and their families sufficiently to seek information on their needs. Mr. Collins, and the parish of Hunsford, were most fortunate.

"I do visit Kent at least once a year," he agreed. "The estate is a large one…"

The ensuing conversation, which included himself, Miss Elizabeth, and Miss Mary, was both interesting and remarkably sensible. Georgiana mostly listened, though she made the occasional comment, while Jane and Mr. Bingley enjoyed a soft dialogue with one another a short distance away.

Darcy felt oddly sorry when he rose to leave. The Bennets had been surprisingly kind and gracious about Lady Catherine's incursion, especially since the situation was genuinely his fault.

As the party was carried back to Netherfield in the Bingley carriage, Darcy found himself cogitating over the events of the last days.

He had nearly made a great deal of trouble for Miss Bennet by asking Miss Bennet for a second dance in the bookstore, with the proprietor standing nearby. Apparently the man was not a gossip, but if he had been, Miss Bennet could have been subject to unkind and dangerous talk. Darcy really should have known, too, that Mr. Collins would write to Lady Catherine on the matter. He was well aware of his aunt's proclivity for hiring fools and sycophants, who would bend to her every whim without question. Of course her parson would be the same, with just enough initiative to inform his patroness about Darcy seeking to dance twice with Miss Bennet.

It was a blessing that things had not gone nearly as poorly as might have been expected. No terrible gossip had blown through Meryton like wildfire, Lady Catherine had been summarily dismissed, and the Bennets had graciously forgiven him. His thoughts drifted back to Miss Elizabeth, her smile and bright eyes and sharp inquisitiveness as she and Miss Mary asked of Rosings. He always enjoyed their conversations, peppered as they were with her wit and clever observations. But beneath the charming playfulness, Miss Elizabeth had a serious, dutiful nature and an intelligent mind.

Her questions, and those of her sister, showed young women who were intimately acquainted with the hardships that tenants could face, and who had done all within their power to alleviate those hardships. Darcy admired them for it; how many of the ladies of the ton, with whom he was acquainted, would take the time to care for the tenants of their estates beyond the most basic expectations? How many would endeavor to know the farmers' wives by name and would ask about the children? Who among them would go above and beyond for the lower classes who lived on and worked the land of the gentry?

Darcy was used to women flirting with him, flattering him, hanging on whatever he might say. He was not accustomed to gentlewomen who were concerned for those under their care. Miss Elizabeth demonstrated a true charity for the tenants, and did not flirt at all. She did not agree with his every opinion, she did not charm and beguile and simper. She argued with him, saucy and laughing. It was … appealing, in a way that all the saccharine sweetness of the young ladies of the haut ton was not.

Darcy did not understand her or her sisters at all. With the entail on Longbourn, it would be only natural if all three of the eldest Bennet daughters were eagerly on the hunt for wealthy husbands, and it was remarkable that Miss Bennet had chosen a courtship over a quick marriage. It was exceptional that Miss Elizabeth displayed no interest in rich, single, handsome Mr. Darcy. It was true enough that Miss Mary's upcoming nuptials would keep Longbourn in the family, which must be a relief to her female relations. Nonetheless, it was odd that her sisters were not trying harder to marry.

It was odd, too, that the sisters would prefer to stay at home, living beneath the oversight of a father who cared little for them. Would it not be preferable to be their own mistresses, living in their own homes? Amazing indeed, that none of them seemed eager to rush into an advantageous marriage based purely on mercenary interests.

The horses were pulling the carriage through Meryton when Georgiana, who was looking out the window, suddenly gasped, turned pale, and sat back in her seat, her face tight with anguish.

Darcy stared at her in concern and then looked out his own window.

He went ramrod stiff, shock and rage pounding through his veins, his blood roaring in his ears. George Wickham stood laughing among a group of militia officers, his hair combed back, a fine red coat setting him off to advantage.

Darcy's teeth ground together. How dare Wickham show his scurrilous face here? The conniving wretch who had conspired to steal Georgiana's dowry, trapping her into a miserable marriage! Here! The lascivious profligate, the spendthrift gambler, the miserable cheat who ran up bills, preyed upon daughters and sisters and maids, and then took himself merrily off to new environs, leaving merchants and women alike ruined!

And he was now here, in Meryton! Had he followed them here? Did he have designs once more upon Georgiana? Or was this merely a disastrous coincidence?

A soft sniff drew his attention, and he looked around. Bingley was looking befuddled and distressed, his own focus on Georgiana. She had shrunk back against the cushions and now wrung her handkerchief in her hands, tears trickling down her cheeks.

"Georgiana," he exclaimed, and awkwardly changed his seat so that he was sitting next to her. "My dear, it will be all right."

"Why is he here?" Georgiana wailed.

"I do not know," Darcy said heavily.