Chapter 39

Longbourn

Monday, 9 th December, 1811

The Darcy carriage, summoned from London only two days previously, came to a gentle halt in front of the Longbourn stables. A servant opened the door, and Darcy climbed out quickly and then handed out Georgiana and Anne, both of whom were warmly dressed in woolen pelisses, woolen gloves, hats, and boots. The weather was now quite cold, and Darcy was determined that neither young lady under his charge would grow ill.

He himself wore a warm woolen coat, buckskin breeches, and well-shined boots, and he escorted both ladies to the front door of Longbourn, which opened with gratifying swiftness; it was apparent that someone had observed their arrival.

Within the vestibule, several servants were waiting, and once the threesome had divested themselves of their outerwear, Mr. Stewart guided them down the familiar corridor to a sitting room.

The Bennets, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, were clustered within, looking for all the world like so many forlorn blackbirds in their nest. The sitting room was considerably smaller than the drawing room, which meant that the fire roaring in the hearth warmed the room to every corner.

Darcy vaguely recognized Mrs. Bennet's gown as having formerly been a becoming shade of rose pink, though the black lace cap adorning her head was new, he thought. Mrs. Bingley, too, had donned a cap in respect of her marital status. The dark colors made Kitty and Lydia, sitting huddled together, look younger than their years, pale and wide-eyed and anxious. Even Charles had attired himself in a black coat and dark charcoal gray breeches, his neckcloth respectfully dark. A cursory glance around was enough to inform Darcy that Miss Bennet was not present, and he wondered hopefully if she might soon come.

A moment later, compassion overrode this selfish thought. He would very much like to see Miss Bennet, but first he would set himself to the task of trying to ease the hearts of the ladies here. It was not surprising that they should all appear pale and sad, faces drawn and expressions gloomy, dark circles shadowing beneath sorrowful eyes.

"Miss de Bourgh, Miss Darcy, Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Bennet said, rising to her feet. "It is very kind of you to call."

"Ladies, please accept our deepest condolences on the loss of Mr. Bennet," Anne de Bourgh said.

"Thank you," Mrs. Bennet said, and her daughters murmured their own appreciation.

"Please, will you not sit down?" the current mistress of the house said, and Darcy, after yet another yearning look about the room in search of Miss Bennet, obediently took his place across from Mrs. Bennet on a convenient settee, while Anne and Georgiana sat to either side of him.

"I understand from Charles that you intend to depart for Pemberley in the near future?" Mrs. Bennet remarked, just as a maid entered with tea service.

"We are, yes," Darcy answered. "We usually spend Christmas at Pemberley, and we are eager to make our journey before the weather gets worse."

"Is it very snowy in Derbyshire?" Miss Lydia inquired, her eyes lighting up with only a hint of their old fire.

"It is," Georgiana murmured. Darcy gave her an encouraging squeeze of the hand and smiled at her, and the girl continued more loudly, "On occasion it is very snowy, yes. It is a good deal farther north than Hertfordshire."

"Is the scenery different from here?" Miss Kitty asked.

"It is far hillier and wilder," Darcy replied. "That makes farming a little more challenging in that some of the fields are not particularly flat, but the scenery is magnificent."

"It sounds delightful," Jane Bingley said courteously, as the door opened and Mr. Stewart appeared.

"Mrs. Bennet, Mr. and Mrs. Collins have just arrived in a post chaise."

"Oh!" Mrs. Bennet said, and Darcy was puzzled to observe a look of vague alarm on the lady's face. "Erm, thank you, Stewart. Yes, erm, they will likely be tired, as they must have left Kent very early this morning. I will go and see them…"

"We all will," Jane declared, rising to her feet, followed a moment later by her sisters.

"I do apologize for our leaving," Mrs. Bennet said to Darcy and his companions. "Please do feel free to stay as long as you like…"

Darcy had risen as well by this time, and said impulsively, "We have no desire to impose, but my sister and cousin and I were all hopeful of giving our regards and condolences to Miss Bennet as well."

There was a pause, and then Jane Bingley said, "She is in the library, and I am certain would enjoy bidding you farewell. Come along, please."

"Thank you," Darcy said gratefully and followed Mrs. Bingley out the door and to the left, with Anne and Georgiana in his wake. He could hear, wafting from the front of the house, the overly dramatic remarks of Mr. Collins on the subject of Mr. Bennet's death, and was relieved when Mrs. Bingley opened the door, gestured for them to go within, and then shut the door firmly behind them.

Elizabeth Bennet had turned at their arrival, a book in one hand, a piece of paper in the other. She, too, of course, was dressed in black, and her face, while composed, was pale. Darcy was startled at how beautiful she was in black.

But then again, he thought, she would be beautiful in a feed sack.

"Miss de Bourgh, Miss Darcy, Mr. Darcy," she said and curtsied. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Georgiana and Anne murmured, and Darcy said, "Good morning. May we please extend our deepest condolences for the loss of Mr. Bennet?"

"Thank you," the lady replied and swallowed hard. "I will confess that it still does not seem entirely real…"

"I assure you I understand," Anne interpolated impulsively. "When my father died about a decade ago, I kept thinking I would wake up and discover it was but a terrible dream."

"That is what it is like, exactly. Thank you."

"Lizzy, Mary and Mr. Collins have arrived," Mrs. Bingley explained.

Like her mother, Miss Bennet appeared a trifle alarmed, and Mrs. Bingley looked at her guests and explained, "For a full decade now, Elizabeth has been making a careful list of all the books that our father purchased for the library. We are removing those books from the house as they were bought during our father's lifetime, with the intention of selling them."

"Since they are not buildings, or land, or furniture, and they were not in the library at the time the entail was written, we believe it entirely honorable to remove them so that we may sell them," Miss Bennet said, lifting her chin.

"But you fear that Mr. Collins might not see it the same way," Darcy said, nodding his head with understanding.

"Yes, and since he will be master of the estate and some of us will be living with him, along with Mary…"

"I completely understand, Miss Bennet," Darcy replied and nodded approvingly. "I am confident that it is entirely moral for you to remove the books, and based on my limited acquaintance with Mr. Collins, I doubt that he will notice or care. He does not seem like a great reader to me."

"Assuredly not," Elizabeth agreed and turned to look at her elder sister. "Jane, I am nearly finished here, and one of our boys will arrange for the last crate of books to be carried off to Netherfield shortly."

"Very good," Jane replied. "I will leave you all now, if you do not mind. I wish to greet our sister and her husband."

"Of course," Elizabeth said and gestured toward several chairs gathered around the fire. "Would you care to sit down?"

"I think we had better not," Darcy said, albeit regretfully, "as you are obviously busy. We could not leave, though, without bidding you farewell. My sister, cousin, and I will be starting the journey to Pemberley tomorrow."

"Oh!" the lady replied, and Darcy, regarding her carefully, did not think he deceived himself in spying a look of disappointment on that lovely countenance.

"Oh," she repeated again and managed a smile. "Miss de Bourgh, Miss Darcy, Mr. Darcy, I wish you a good journey. I have greatly enjoyed our acquaintance."

"I have enjoyed our friendship very much," Georgiana said, "and I was hoping, perhaps, that we might be able to write to one another? If you have time, that is? But perhaps you will not..."

"I would be absolutely delighted to correspond with you, Miss Darcy," Elizabeth said in a reassuring tone.

"Will you please call me Georgiana?"

"Of course. And I am Elizabeth."

"I have also greatly enjoyed our acquaintance," Anne said, "and would be pleased to write you while I am at Pemberley, Elizabeth."

"That would be wonderful, Anne," Elizabeth said.

She was so beautiful, so vibrant, even wearing black, even with her eyes slightly swollen, that Darcy could not help himself.

"Georgiana, Anne," he said, pointing toward the other end of the library, "would you kindly look at that globe? It seems a very fine one, and I have been thinking that I need a new globe for the library at Darcy House. Perhaps we can find one like it in a store in London."

Georgiana looked startled and opened her mouth, but Anne de Bourgh said, "Of course, Cousin!" and hauled her younger relation away from Darcy and the lady he loved.

"I am afraid that the globe has been here in this library for more than a generation," Elizabeth said, "or I would gladly sell it to you."

"Miss Bennet," Darcy said, and his tone was such that Elizabeth's expression grew serious.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy?"

"I had hoped, that is, I…," he stuttered and then, at the growing confusion on the lady's face, started over. "The truth is that I have come to relish our acquaintance, our friendship , very much, and I had hoped, before the tragic death of your father, to perhaps become more than a friend to you."

He stopped, his heart beating, his mind awhirl, as he watched her eagerly. Some dim part of his mind suggested that to even mention such a thing to a lady newly fatherless was cruel, but to leave now, without so much as a hint…

She smiled, timidly, and said shyly, "Truly, Mr. Darcy? I had no idea that, well, you are very ... I am sorry, I am not expressing myself with my usual ease."

"You have just lost your father," Darcy replied. "Indeed, I really must apologize; this is no time for a declaration of any kind, but when I thought of leaving you without so much as a word of my deep admiration, I could not bear it."

"I am glad you told me," Elizabeth said simply, and again, he was nearly breathless from her beauty, even masked as it was by the weariness and grief on her face. "I cannot pretend to return your sentiments exactly, sir. I like you very much as well, and admire you too, but you are right that at this moment it is not possible for me to be certain what the future holds."

"I do understand," Darcy replied and took the very great liberty of taking one small hand in his own larger one and gently kissing it. "I hope that you know that if you have any problems in the future, you have only to bring it to my attention by writing to my sister or my cousin, and I will do my best to assist you and your family. Moreover, if you find yourself interested in a personal correspondence with me, you have only to write."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I am most grateful."

/

Dining Room

Longbourn

Dinner Time

The pervasive surreal feeling that had permeated Longbourn for the last several days extended even to the dinner table. Elizabeth was seated in her usual spot, but nearly everyone else had been shuffled around. Mary sat, of course, in what was formerly her mother's spot, at the foot of the table. Mr. Collins had taken Mr. Bennet's former chair with a great deal of assurance, and it was still startling to glance at the head of the table and see him there. Mrs. Bennet sat in what had for so long been Jane's place, beside Elizabeth, while the younger girls and their governess huddled in their accustomed places at the table.

At least the food itself had changed little. Mary, having learned sensible household management and economy from her mother, had surveyed the contents of the pantry and ordered a dinner not much unlike what her mother had always set. Two chickens served as a meat, a tureen of soup, some roasted carrots, and rolls to round off the meal. Despite the excellence of the cooking, it was a somber meal; everyone attired, very correctly, in their drab mourning clothes, faces and spirits alike heavy and downcast.

There was little conversation but a great deal of talk, primarily from Mr. Collins. Judging by his words, the greatest ambition of his life had been frustrated when Mr. Bennet died, depriving Collins the further acquaintance of a man whom, if time had permitted it, would have doubtless become one of his dearest friends. Elizabeth bit her tongue and kept her thoughts to herself, chewing disconsolately at her carrots. Mr. Bennet, always ready to verbally harass those around him, would have been no friend to Mr. Collins, though perhaps her new brother by marriage was too stupid to understand subtle insults.

She was just as glad when his discourse shifted to effusive compliments of his dear Mary, and she even smiled faintly to see her sister's becoming blush.

This relief was short-lived, as Mr. Collins began to hold forth on the changes impending at Longbourn. Lady Catherine had, he disclosed, most graciously agreed to enter a correspondence with him, since he was unused to estate management. Rosings flourished under her rule, after all, and she was happy to give her advice via letter. Elizabeth stared fixedly at her plate, disliking these words. She had little knowledge of how Rosings was run, but she had not formed a high opinion of Lady Catherine when the lady had barged into Longbourn to harangue Jane for the fiction of having beguiled Mr. Darcy.

She felt a sudden tinge of amusement, strangely foreign in the midst of mourning, at the realization that Lady Catherine had harangued Jane for attracting Darcy, when it was she herself, the second Miss Bennet, lively, impertinent, and not nearly as beautiful as Jane, who had in fact caught the attention of the master of Pemberley.

It was still a peculiar thought; indeed, it felt as unreal as her own father's death. In some ways, Mr. Darcy's expression of admiration seemed impossible. She had not had time, yet, to process his impulsive words, much though they delighted her soul. But then, her soul was in turmoil; shock and grief over her father's death, anger that he had died without even attempting reconciliation with the family he had for so long held in grinding contempt, and upheaval at the Collinses so swiftly taking residence.

No, her peace was too muddled for her to fully assimilate Mr. Darcy's words, and she found herself grimly thankful for her brother-in-law's verbosity. She did not feel up to maintaining her share of a conversation and preferred instead to eat her dinner in unobtrusive silence.