Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

T he inn in the hamlet nearest Grantley Park in Lincolnshire was small but clean and comfortable, with simple, hearty fare. Darcy had arrived late the previous day, and after a full country breakfast, he boarded his carriage to meet Bingley's new family.

Grantley Park was everything the family was: a small estate and a manor of middling distinction, well-kept and respectable, demonstrating a firm preference for the country over the great metropolis far to the south. Mr Eustace Grantley was a member of the House of Commons, hence their long stays in the city.

As his carriage drew up to the house, he spotted Bingley awaiting him on the front steps with Miss Grantley and her parents. Their anticipation of his company was obvious. Upon stepping down from the carriage, he bowed over Mrs Grantley's hand and shook hands with her husband. It was when he turned to greet his old friend and his betrothed that he first noticed a change.

Bingley was smiling but not in his usual way; a calm, contented smile rather than the usual wide grin. There were no expansive gestures, no bouncing happily on his toes. He took Darcy's outstretched hand and shook it heartily. There was no back-slapping embrace. Even his voice was well-modulated.

"Darcy, how good it is to see you at last!"

Darcy smiled. "I would not miss your wedding for the world, Bingley." He turned to Miss Grantley and bowed. "Allow me to wish you every happiness."

"Let us go inside. There will be refreshments in the green parlour," said Mrs Grantley, extending her arm towards the wide front door.

It was a week till the wedding, with several small celebrations planned. Darcy observed the usual social obligations: shooting, early morning rides, afternoon teas, and formal evening dinners. The Grantleys were agreeable, and good stewards of the land. There were long discussions about farming over cigars and port. The family had taken Bingley into the fold, instructing him in the duties of a landowner through their family stories and experiences.

Bingley took an active role in the farm talk. He was just as often spending time with his new relatives as he was with Miss Grantley herself. The couple seemed well-pleased and companionable together, but there was a notable lack of obvious sentiment. They were not lovebirds billing and cooing. Darcy wondered about it, contrasting it with how his friend had been completely unable to tear himself away from Miss Bennet's side.

Darcy wished to speak to Bingley but was unable to find a private moment with him; he was so involved with his new family. He had hoped to ride alone with Bingley on a planned trip to The Elms, the estate that Miss Grantley had inherited from her great-aunt, but all the family came along.

Mr and Mrs Hurst arrived, along with the Bingley aunts and uncles from Scarborough. Miss Bingley sent her regrets. Hurst immediately became one of the party, unable to resist the warmth of the family. Mrs Hurst was more reserved, but she too was at last won over. Darcy had never seen them so relaxed.

The day before the wedding, Darcy rode over early to the Grantleys'. To his surprise, Bingley was awake, and he was alone. The company had stayed up very late the night before, and most were still abed. "I am not used to finding you up and about earlier than I," Darcy teased his friend.

Bingley laughed. "Yes, that has always been your role, has it not? Now I am finally learning to live with country hours. Rose and I plan to spend most of the year here. We both feel we have had a surfeit of town life and are relieved that we are not obliged to take part in the Season unless we wish to."

Darcy stared at him, unsure what to say. "I was always under the impression that you enjoyed society."

"I thought I did too. But this winter it just seemed so…" He cast about for the right words. "So soulless and mercenary. I was forced to squire Caroline around and could barely stand it. Every ball or party is the same. For the first time in my life, I found no pleasure in dancing or going to the club or anything really. I have turned into you, Darcy," he joked.

Darcy felt his world slowly rotating upside down. He had removed Bingley from Miss Bennet and then abandoned him. Had he then fallen into some kind of melancholy? He put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Bingley… Charles…are you well? It has become clear to me that you are not the same man I know and esteem. Are you unhappy?"

"I am quite content. I am marrying an excellent lady, and we are planning our future together. I feel as if I was a boy who has finally grown into a man. No more silly effusions, no more foolish infatuations. Rose and I are the closest of friends, and we can speak to each other of anything in the world. This is a steady, comfortable kind of companionship, and I believe it to be a superior foundation upon which to build a marriage. Her family are warm and welcoming and have been happily received by my relations, except for Caroline of course.

"My sister is furious with me for not choosing a leading lady of the ton . I have given her control of her own dowry with instructions for my man of business to help her manage it. I have also settled some further funds on her so that any companion she might hire will be very well compensated for what is sure to be a difficult position. Louisa at first shared Caroline's opinion, but lately she has tired of our sister's theatrics and likes being connected to the Grantleys. She and Hurst are also planning to spend more time in the country at their estate.

"For myself, I feel the satisfaction of having carried out my father's wishes. My betrothed is a member of an ancient family, and we have an estate of our own. My father-in-law is a respected member of Parliament, although his is a small, rural constituency. Our children will be true ladies and gentlemen."

Darcy took a breath to cover his surprise. Had Bingley given up on love? "Was your change of heart because of your feelings for Miss Bennet?"

Bingley met his eyes. "It began with that. I was distraught when you told me that she did not reciprocate my ardent admiration and was only acting in accordance with her mother's wishes. Rose saw my sadness and offered compassion and a listening ear. I confided in her, you see. Reckless, I know, but you had gone to Pemberley, and I had no one else who would listen. We became each other's confidants. We developed a deep friendship. I realised then that I had been going about this all wrong. You were correct in emphasising the importance of choosing a wife with attention to fortune and connexions. Rose has those things, although they are relatively minor. She and I spoke about this at length, and we decided that we would rub along well together. We trust each other and are suited in every way. We choose to build a life together. My only regret is that I did not communicate well with Miss Bennet, particularly since Louisa informed me that she had been in town for several weeks and had called on them. Rose scolded me for that. She felt that I should have ascertained Miss Bennet's feelings for myself in the beginning. But so many weeks had gone by since I left Hertfordshire, I felt that any communication would have done more damage."

Darcy, stricken with guilt, nodded slowly. He had been wrong in so many ways, and now it would affect his dearest friend forever. He had kept Bingley from returning to Netherfield because of his own attraction to Miss Elizabeth—he had to admit it to himself. Bingley, in his disappointment, had acted in accordance with his own habits and taken the path of least resistance. Not that he thought Bingley would be unhappy. Miss Grantley was an estimable woman of respectable family, though not as wealthy and well-placed as some. Their union would be entirely unexceptionable, as most couples from their circles chose to forego romantic love in marriage.

The estate did not have its own chapel, so the wedding was at the parish church. The company was friendly, warm, and cordial. There were smiles all round. The bride and groom were sedate in their joy, but there was no doubt of their contentment. After the celebration, Mr and Mrs Bingley left for a brief wedding trip to Bath. They planned to return for the spring planting.

With the Bingleys gone, Darcy departed immediately for Pemberley. As his coach pulled away from the inn, his mind replayed the events of the past week, his feelings in a tangled knot. His selfish actions had prevented Bingley from following his heart, but he seemed happy with his choice. Why could he not feel more joy for Bingley? Or relief that he had escaped mercenary ladies? Was this not exactly what he had wanted for his friend? The new Mrs Bingley was an exemplary woman. Instead, Darcy felt regret, as if he were mourning a loss.

For one, Bingley would not need him any longer. He would receive guidance in managing his estate from the Grantleys and would be occupied with his wife and soon, God willing, with his children. They would no longer meet in town, sit in lively discussion at their club, go shooting at Manton's, haggle over horses at Tattersall's. He sorely missed the old Bingley; the joyful enthusiasm, the frank expression of emotions, the lack of pretence. He would miss seeing the world through his cheerful, exuberant eyes.

But that was not all. Over the winter, Darcy had been afflicted upon several occasions with what, if he were not a sober and rational man, he might have called a vision. He could not account for it and dismissed it as an aberrant day-dream. The scene was in the church in Longbourn village on a sunny autumn morning. He and Bingley were standing up together, as they had just done, but in the day-dream they were standing opposite Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. He groaned. It would seem that a tiny part of his heart stubbornly wished for that outcome, as unacceptable as it was. And now it was impossible. Bingley had been his last link to Netherfield and to the denizens of Longbourn. Now that link was gone, and he would most certainly never see Elizabeth again.

Darcy banished that image from his mind forever, as if he were putting out a candle and locking the door of a secret room. Then he determinedly picked up his book and opened it.

Mr Bennet, sitting at breakfast, accepted his day-old newspaper from Osbeck. He was alone at the table. Elizabeth was in the garden, and Jane was in the stillroom. Mary and Kitty had not yet made an appearance.

He accepted a plate of toast and bacon from Ruthie and opened the paper. As was his usual practice, he skimmed the headlines, then returned to the articles that interested him the most. As he turned the pages, a familiar name caught his eye. It was in the society pages, which he detested.

Mr and Mrs Eustace Grantley, of Grantley Park, Lincolnshire,

are pleased to announce the marriage of their daughter Rose to Mr Charles Bingley on March 30.

The couple will reside at The Elms, their

Estate in Lincolnshire.

Well, well. The world moved on, did it not? It was no surprise. Still, his heart hurt for his eldest daughter. He remembered the evening of the ball, Mr Bingley clearly besotted with Jane and Fanny shrieking about their betrothal as a certainty, but within two days, Netherfield Park had been emptied and shuttered, as it remained. Fanny had talked of nothing else for weeks until poor Jane had fled to London with the Gardiners to get away from her lamentations.

"Well, Mrs Rose Bingley, I wish you luck with that capricious man-child you have shackled yourself to. Not to mention his sisters," Mr Bennet muttered. He separated the society page from the rest of the paper and laid it on the fire to watch it burn to ash.

A few miles away at Haye-Park, Mrs Crombe, as was her habit, pored over the society pages. She smiled at a particular wedding announcement. Fanny Gardiner's daughters would not marry well—or at all, if she had anything to say about it.