31

Jane Bingley rested her hands on her increasing belly, watching her husband intently. He sat at her side, reading a letter that had just arrived from London – from Captain Darcy. She waited in patient suspense, and when he had finished reading his missive, he set it down and smiled at her. It was the brightest smile he had given her in months. “Darcy is coming! He will arrive on the sixth of April, and stay through the end of the month!”

Jane had barely smiled back at Charles before she burst into tears of joy. She threw herself at him, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her. It was the most intimate moment they had shared in seven or eight weeks at least. She held him closer, trying to enjoy the emotion of their embrace.

Things had remained fraught between them since she had confessed her collusion with Caroline. Jane was still haunted by the things Charles had said to her at the time, how he had blamed her for her friend’s death. It had cut her deep, for it was something she had sometimes believed of herself.

She was a wretched, hateful creature. She had participated in a cursed chain of events that caused the elder Mr. Darcy to have an apoplexy at the shame of his son’s scandal, then Marcus Darcy fought Wickham to escape his miserable life with Caroline. And she had separated Elizabeth from Captain Darcy – twice over, perhaps, for how could he love a woman whose sister was such a creature?

For a moment she felt a little afraid of seeing Captain Darcy again after all that she had cost him, but Charles was still holding her close; he began to stroke her hair, and she reminded herself that this was what it had all been for. Charles, being loved by Charles. If she had blackened her soul to get him, she ought to be enjoying him.

“This is going to be just the thing!” Charles pulled away just enough to beam at her, his face still a sight that sent shivers through her.

“I hope it will work,” she replied. She bit her lip and slowly extended her hand toward his.

He looked down as well, something darkening in his eyes as he entwined his fingers with hers. “You said that your biggest regret was that Lizzy and Darcy were torn apart.” Charles glanced up at her, his eyes searching hers. “Would it make you happy to unite them at last? I very much want for you to be happy – for us to be happy.”

Jane smiled at him. “It would heal something in my heart that has been missing since… so long ago. Thank you for helping make it possible.”

His eyes glistened, and then he gave a sheepish chuckle. “It shall be great fun, too, you know. Do you think that Richard and Lydia will figure out what we are up to?”

Jane had been on the precipice of voicing something very profound to her husband. She realised that as much as she wanted to be happy, she did not know quite how. Perhaps it was why she secretly tortured herself over his taking a mistress so soon after they were wed, and how it had all been her own fault for thinking Caroline’s advice so very clever. She was too tormented by her own regrets, and by the cruel irony that she had paid too steep a price for her heart’s desire to enjoy a moment of it.

But he wished to jest, and she would be happy to indulge him in this, instead. “They will be too occupied in flirting with one another to notice anything else.”

“Who will be flirting?” Lydia danced into the room, wearing a new day dress that reflected her recently matured tastes. Her gown was still feminine and flattering, but less girlish and over-trimmed. Time had not altered Lydia Bennet in essentials, but she had grown steadier and more confident, having seen enough of life and death that at eighteen she was more expressive with her poise and expressions than her former chatter.

But when there was flirtation to be discussed, the girl could hardly help herself. Her eyes sparkled with mirth, and for a moment she looked rather like Elizabeth. “You were talking about me,” she said with a grin.

“You hold infinite fascination for us, dearest,” Jane said, holding out a hand to her sister.

Lydia allowed herself to be gently tugged down onto the sofa. Jane snuggled up to her, still holding Charles’s hand. For a moment it felt strange, but Jane rather enjoyed the casual, indecorous affection of the moment. Perhaps in time, it might feel natural to be so content.

“We are to give a house-party,” Charles declared. “It is an anniversary present for my wife, and our first guests shall arrive in three weeks’ time.”

This much, they had agreed upon. What he said next was a surprise to Jane. “And three weeks after that, we shall have a ball!”

“A ball!” Lydia and Jane cried in unison.

Charles looked very well-pleased with himself. “We shall have a great many guests arrive just before the ball, and likely stay a few days or more. It shall be warm enough at the end of April to attempt a picnic or some other entertainment. Whatever amusement will not overexert you, Jane.”

Charles laid a hand on Jane’s round belly, and she felt her insides melt at the touch as much as the sentiments expressed. “But we shall have a few of our most favourite guests arrive early, and do a great many amusing things.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Jane smiled at him again.

Lydia glanced between them and stared expectantly. “What kind of amusing things? Is that why there is to be flirting?

“That must be up to you, if you have not had your fill in London,” Charles said as he leaned over to give Lydia a playful tap on the nose. “But we shall have fine dinners and play games, and go on springtime walks.”

Lydia looked sceptically at him. “We do those things already.”

“Well, sometimes, yes,” Charles admitted. He glanced to Jane for help.

“But you shall be in charge of all of the really important things,” Jane blurted out. She paused for a moment, realising her idea had not been half bad. “Would you like to help plan some amusements for the party?”

Charles looked equally impressed and relieved, as if it had not occurred to him that this would indeed take considerable effort and planning. Jane was more than willing to take it on, if it would mend her mistakes and possibly salvage her marriage, but she would likely need help.

Lydia looked contemplative. “Nobody has ever asked me to do such a thing before. But I am eighteen now, and fully grown, and I ought to show that I am capable of such things – Lizzy would think it very clever of me.”

“She certainly will,” Jane agreed. “Perhaps a birthday celebration for her?”

Lydia squealed. “Lizzy is coming? Truly?”

Jane beamed at her sister, swelling with pride at the fruits of her conciliatory efforts. “She is!”

Lydia’s countenance turned serious. “Ever since she quarrelled with Mamma, I scarcely ever see her. Because I am always with Mamma.” The heavy sigh Lydia gave was one Jane could well understand.

“Lydia, what if Mamma went to Netherfield while Lizzy is here? She has offered to let our mother stay there in her absence, but you need not always be bound to go wherever she goes. I have grown so fond of your company.”

Lydia beamed at her. “I believe I had long wished for you to say such a thing; it is a relief. Even being her favourite is….”

Jane nodded, knowing just what her sister could not bring herself to say. Being favoured by Mrs. Bennet was exhausting.

Charles clapped his hands and cried, “Then it is settled. I shall speak to your mother this afternoon. And you have a soirée to plan, Lydia.”

Lydia leapt from the sofa, declaring herself ready to begin directly. She bounded from the room with the same energy she had entered, and turned to grin at them from the doorway. “I do hope you will go back to talking about me – and perhaps you might discuss inviting a certain colonel to witness my triumphs.” She gave them a devilish wink before flouncing away to indulge her own fancy.

***

Captain Darcy arrived at Cameron Court on the sixth of April. Jane and Charles Bingley were on the front steps ready to greet him, and they looked far more content together than Darcy had expected.

“Welcome, welcome,” Charles cried, shaking hands warmly with Darcy, who was overcome with emotion as he looked upon the friend he had once thought never to see again.

A memory flitted through his mind, Charles weeping in Pemberley’s study, unable to look at him or Caroline as he pleaded his regrets. Darcy flushed with shame at the remembrance of what his feelings had been then. His grief had given way to cold rage, and yet he had known even then that he was punishing himself as much as his friend.

He had punctiliously severed one of the last connections he had that brought him joy, as if refusing to allow himself that modicum of relief after he had parted from Elizabeth. He had been the author of his own despair, and denied himself any respite.

But his ever-present self-recriminations would not do at such a moment, with such a charming and picturesque manor before him. The large house looked as if it had been designed for a man of Charles’s disposition, for it blended harmoniously with its environs, nestled comfortably amidst the first blossoms of spring.

The Bingleys ushered him inside and Mrs. Bingley gave her demure thanks that he had consented to visit. Her expression seemed to inquire if Darcy bore her any ill will from their last meeting, nearly two years prior. He did not, he realised, and he offered her an encouraging smile. He could hardly resent her, when he had come to help Charles reconcile with his wife.

Charles chatted happily, if somewhat nervously. He, too, eyed Darcy as if in want of reassurance, and Darcy nodded warmly as his friend pointed out the many fine features of his home. It was not unlike Darcy’s first visit to the parsonage in Hunsford, where Collins had extolled at length on what he considered the finest cottage in all the land.

Darcy sighed. The parsonage at Hunsford….

He willed himself to smile at Charles, to keep his heart and mind in the present. “It is just the sort of manor to suit you; very well done. Had I stumbled into this home by accident, I am sure I should have known it to be yours at once.”

Mrs. Bingley gave a gentle laugh at his excessive praise. It was uncharacteristic of him, but better than the barrier that had existed between him and his friend these two years. He smiled again.

Charles fidgeted. “Are you well? Ah, but you must be wishing to refresh yourself from the road, of course. Let me ring for the butler. Mr. Peters is a capital fellow, he will show you to your room, which has a very fine view of the pond. And then you must join us in the drawing room, and we shall take tea. Jane’s sister is here, and she usually returns from playing with the baby at this hour. I will ask her to bring him down.”

Darcy felt the room spin. She was here. Elizabeth was here – with her baby. Her son. He had been astonished to learn she was expecting, when last he saw Captain Lucas in London. And wildly envious. And for a long time after, punishingly bitter. But now….

And then there was laughter and motion on the stairs, and he turned around to see a beautiful brunette with a babe in her arms. His heart sank as he recognized Lydia Bennet – the child in her arms was undoubtedly Charles’s son.

Lydia laughed before she bobbed into a curtsey. “Am I not grown, Captain Darcy? You are the picture of amazement! I am told I look very like Lizzy now – only taller!”

“Lydia,” Mrs. Bingley softly admonished.

Darcy recollected himself and bowed. “You look remarkably well, Miss Bennet. Indeed, I believe Yorkshire agrees with all of you.”

Charles heartily agreed, and then reached for the child in Miss Bennet’s arms. “And this is little Marcus, an orphaned cousin we have adopted.”

Darcy regarded his friend with mixed emotions, for he was honoured at the name, though wary of his friend’s deceit. Remembering why he had come to Cameron Court, he looked to Mrs. Bingley, observing her reaction. She merely studied her husband intently, and gave a little sigh.

Elizabeth remained an invisible presence amongst them for the remainder of the day, in Darcy’s mind. And yet, nobody spoke of her; Darcy briefly wondered if they meant to torture him with such a glaring omission.

He had become to suppose it more likely they did not mention her for Mrs. Bennet’s sake. That lady was exactly as he remembered her. His impression of her was shaded by how Elizabeth had anguished over her mother’s invective letter in Kent, and the lady did not seem especially interested in making a better impression on him. He was relieved when she declared that she was to travel to Netherfield in the morning.

And yet, Darcy could not imagine why Elizabeth would welcome such company. She must be very lonely, indeed – but she would do better to come to Cameron Court. If he could reconcile with Charles, surely she could do likewise with her elder sister. She was in mourning for her husband; it might be a balm to her spirits as it was for his own.

In mourning for her husband. Darcy had no delusions about his feelings on that score – he knew exactly why he wished her to be there. And the following day, his wish was granted.