Chapter Seventeen Back to Previous Chapter An impressive line of carriages stood outside the inn, and servants bustled about loading baggage and tucking in smaller parcels wherever they could fit. The gentlemen's horses had been brought round, and Darcy made his intention known of riding ahead of the party in order to arrive at Pemberley later that day, instead of the next day as originally planned, claiming important business with his steward as his excuse. "Cannot this business wait until tomorrow, Mr. Darcy?" Miss Bingley could not hide her disappointment at his defection. "I am afraid not. I am sorry to leave the party, but I leave you in the capable hands of your brother. You will be only a day behind me." Miss Bingley was not so easily discouraged. "You should not ride alone, sir. There are highwaymen about." "You are probably right," agreed Darcy, turning to Henry. "Will you accompany me, Tilney?" Henry was on the point of suggesting that Bingley take his place, but stopped to consider Darcy's request. When he and Catherine had arrived at Darcy's townhouse, Henry had found his friend even more reserved and uncommunicative than he had been in Hertfordshire. Clearly some important event had occurred since the last time they had met, but a private audience had not been possible as they traveled northward in a great caravan, slowed to an extremely genteel pace by the very size and number of their group. Darcy's face was inscrutable, but Henry knew him well enough to sense that his request was not made arbitrarily. "Very well, Darcy. Let me speak with Catherine first." He went to Catherine, who was chattering gaily with her new friend, Miss Darcy. Georgiana was fond of Henry, and had overcome her natural shyness and extended herself to be gracious to his new wife. Catherine responded to Miss Darcy's overtures with her usual good nature, and the two girls being close in age, it was not surprising that a friendship should blossom. Mr. Bingley's sisters treated Catherine with a cold, repulsive civility, and at Henry's advice, she simply avoided them as much as possible, which fit perfectly with Georgiana's own inclination. Miss Bingley's fawning attentions did not please her, and she tolerated them only for her brother's sake. Henry took Catherine's hand and led her inside to a private parlour. "I am going to leave the party with Darcy. We are riding ahead to Pemberley, and will spend the night there." "Cannot I come with you?" asked Catherine with a very long face. "You are a competent horsewoman, Cat, but this will be a long and tiring ride. We will only stop for a bite standing up. I would be more comfortable if you stayed with the rest of the party." "This will be the first time since our marriage that we have been apart," said Catherine sorrowfully. "I shall miss you, Henry." "And I shall miss you, my sweet. But it is only one night. You have Georgiana for company, and if you went on to Pemberley tonight, you would be leaving her to the tender mercies of Miss Bingley. Consider that you are performing an act of Christian charity, which is always desirable in a clergyman's wife." Catherine replied archly, "Christian charity, indeed! You and Mr. Darcy want to drink port and smoke cigars in the drawing-room. You should find your friend a wife, Henry. Then he would not tempt you into such dissolute bachelor behaviour." "Find him a wife, eh?" laughed Henry, kissing her one last time. "I think Darcy can be trusted to do that entirely on his own." "How tired I am of posting inns," said Darcy as they dismounted. "Tonight I will be home at Pemberley at last! That will be very fine!" "You can pretend you are a creature of fashion," said Henry as he followed his friend into the inn, "but I know that at heart you are a simple country squire." "I have no opinion of a man who could not appreciate a home such as Pemberley." Darcy's expression was gravely earnest. "Mr. Darcy!" cried the landlord, who came bustling out to meet them. "Welcome, sir! You'll be wanting a private parlour? I have one all ready." "That will do very well," said Darcy. To Henry he added, "We might as well give the horses a proper rest. We shall still reach Pemberley in good time." There was no opportunity for talk while the landlord and his wife laid out cold meat, cheese, bread, and pitchers of foamy beer. However, they soon withdrew and left the men alone together. Henry poured beer into a pewter mug. "This is good, plain bachelor fare, is not it? It is probably for the best that Catherine did not ride ahead with us." "Mrs. Tilney is a charming lady," said Darcy politely. Henry grinned at him. "There was an unspoken 'however' at the end of that sentence. Come, Darcy, out with it! What grievance have you against my blameless, adorable wife?" "No grievance at all. I just wonder..." Darcy's voice trailed off. "Yes?" Henry encouraged him, really curious by that time. Darcy hesitated, then spoke quickly. "I just wonder if you will continue to find her charming and adorable after a few years. She is very young, and ignorant of the world, as you have yourself admitted. I expected you to choose a wife with a lively mind like your own." "You mean, a woman like my sister Elizabeth?" Henry asked his half-full mug. "Well," said a suddenly conscious Darcy, "Yes, as a matter of fact." He was silent for a moment, then burst out with, "Look at your father's situation! He is a sensible man of strong understanding married to an ignorant, silly woman, and it has made him bitter and cynical. I fear you will grow tired of your Catherine, and regret your choice. That is all." "Grow tired of an ignorant, silly wife? I dare say I should." Henry looked at Darcy's grave expression and burst out laughing. "I confess that Catherine's education has been indifferent at best, but I do not expect her to remain ignorant for very long. She has good principles and sound common sense. A better understanding will come with exposure to the wider world, which married life will supply." Darcy smiled. "And you married her entirely for her principles and sense. That she clearly worships you and flatters your vanity had no influence on your choice." "If you are ever so fortunate as to acquire a wife who worships you, Darcy, you will find that it is an entirely delightful experience. Your vanity needs no flattering, of course, so you need not consider it. Now, you did not ask me to ride ahead with you to express your concern about my marriage. What is troubling you?" Darcy gave a great sigh. "You are right. There is something I must tell you. I did not mean to tell anyone, but in light of your discovery about your true family, I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that I must tell you." "What is it?" "When we were in Kent, I made an offer of marriage to your sister Elizabeth." "You made an offer to Lizzy?" Henry was all astonishment. "I confess that such a match would be very much to my liking, but during our time in Hertfordshire Elizabeth made it quite clear that she liked you not at all." "Yes, but it was different in Kent." Darcy turned his mug between his hands moodily. "Elizabeth was much more inclined to accept my company. She had a teasing, almost flirtatious manner when we spoke. I thought that if I could persuade her to accept me, to represent to her that marriage with me would be advantageous not only to her but to her family, that once we were married I could teach her to love me as I loved her." Henry said quietly, "Would such a marriage make you happy? One formed on purely financial motives, even if it is only on one side, with the hope of future happiness that may never come to pass? You might as well have married your cousin, Miss De Bourgh." "I have no excuse to offer for my arrogance. I suppose that I am so accustomed to women like Caroline Bingley throwing themselves at my head that I fully expected a portionless gentleman's daughter like Elizabeth Bennet to accept my very obliging offer, and gratefully." "But she refused you?" "She did, and in such a way as to leave me in no doubt of her feelings. She told me that my pride disgusted her and that I had behaved in an ungentlemanlike manner. I was angry at first, but it was not long before I realized that Elizabeth was absolutely correct. When I asked her to be my wife, I made sure she knew precisely how degrading such a connection would be to my exalted family." He gave a short, bitter bark of laughter. "This, after she had spent a month being insulted by my aunt De Bourgh. Such were the connections so superior to her own! She opened my eyes; she made me see the pride that I always sought to regulate was beginning to blind me, and I bless her for it." He looked up at his friend and smiled. "Then I discover that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who in my embarrassment I half-hoped I would never see again though I still thought of her constantly, was the sister of one of my closest friends. It was quite a shock, to say the least." "To be sure," Henry laughed. "However, the next time you see Lizzy, I dare say she will have forgot her pique and be ready to receive her brother's friend with at least civility, if not friendship." Darcy shook his head sadly. "When I encountered her at your wedding, she looked upon me with utter loathing." "I doubt that, Darcy!" "She would not even speak to me. She stared at me for a moment, and then turned away." Darcy sighed and rubbed at his face tiredly. "I fear that she has formed a false opinion of me; an opinion born of malice and fed by my infernal pride." "What do you mean?" "Elizabeth accused me of failing to honour the provisions of my father's will with regard to Wickham. He poisoned her, and probably the rest of the neighbourhood, with half-truths and outright lies." Henry considered this. "I think it is time that you told me the entire story of your dealings with Wickham." "You know that my father provided for Wickham's education." Henry nodded. "My father's will directed that Wickham should have the next presentation of a valuable family living, along with a legacy of one thousand pounds." "That was generous of Mr. Darcy," Henry commented. "Indeed. When the provision of the will became known, Wickham told me that he did not intend to take orders, and asked for a settlement of three thousand pounds in lieu of the preferment. I agreed; I knew Wickham's character as my esteemed father could not, and knew that Kympton village would not be well-served by such an appointment. Three years later, the incumbent of Kympton died, and Wickham wrote to me, asking for the presentation. Naturally, I refused his request." Henry snorted. "I would imagine so! He had no right to ask for the preferment, when he had voluntarily given it up, and received compensation." "No, he had no right. Yet my refusal made me the object of his resentment, and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me to others as in his reproaches to myself. I can only imagine what he told your sister." Darcy lapsed into a melancholy silence. "Darcy, have I your permission to write to Elizabeth and tell her that you have confided in me, and explain the true story of your dealings with Wickham?" "I have told her myself. I gave her a letter after her refusal--shamefully long, and written in a dreadful bitterness of spirit. I laid the facts before her, but cannot hope for a change of heart." He took a deep breath and leaned back. "I thank you for your offer, Tilney, but I must make amends myself. The next time I see Elizabeth, I must endeavour to convince her that I am not such a bad fellow as Wickham's lies and my own prideful behaviour have led her to believe. I only pray that it is not too late." Henry smiled. "Lizzy is a sensible young lady. I have every confidence in your powers of persuasion." Darcy laughed and rose. "Your confidence is encouraging! However, I dare say it will be some time before I meet with your sister again. Perhaps I can use those powers of persuasion to convince Bingley that we should have a shooting party at Netherfield in the autumn." "I do not think that Bingley will require much persuading." Henry followed Darcy outside the inn, where their horses stood waiting. As they approached Pemberley, Darcy's spirits lifted visibly. He clucked to his horse and broke into a gallop as they entered the wood on the edge of his grounds. Henry laughed, shook his head, and followed gamely. At the top of the hill, where the wood ceased, Darcy reined in and looked down at the house. He wore an expression of mingled pleasure and pride, and Henry could not grudge him the latter. The master of the vista before him was entitled to such an emotion. Pemberley House was situated so perfectly as to instantly catch the eye, on the opposite side of a valley into which the road wound with some abruptness. It was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal, nor falsely adorned. Henry had long felt that there were few places for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They directed the horses along the road, which led behind the house to the stables. A trio of idling grooms scattered hastily as they entered. "Mr. Darcy," said the oldest, stepping forward and pulling his forelock. "We didn't expect you till tomorrow, sir." "That will do," Darcy growled, not very convincingly. "These two have had a long ride. Feed and water them, and a good rubdown, mind." The other two grooms each led one of the horses away. Darcy pointed to a barouche-landau outside the stable. "Whose carriage is that?" The head groom replied, "It belongs to a gentleman who's come to see the house, sir." "Very well. You're tending to his cattle?" "Yes, sir," said the groom in an injured tone. Darcy smiled. "I should know that I do not have to tell you your business, Dunning. Carry on." "Very good, Mr. Darcy." The groom pulled his forelock again and ambled away. Darcy pulled out his watch and sighed. "I must see my steward," he said to Henry. "Go up to the main house. Reynolds will look after you; she has always had a soft corner for you," he added with a smile. Henry followed him out of the stable and stepped out onto the lawn. Three people stood nearby, looking back at the great house; one of them, a young woman, looked terribly familiar. Darcy came to a sudden stop in front of Henry. "Good God," he muttered under his breath. "Lizzy!" cried Henry, moving forward to greet his sister, who was staring at Darcy, her face overspread with the deepest blush. Henry grinned at Darcy over his shoulder. "Darcy, here is my sister Elizabeth. What a happy coincidence! You remember her, I am sure." He was very much amused to see that Darcy's face was as flushed as Elizabeth's and that his mouth hung open slightly in astonishment. Elizabeth had turned her head away from Darcy. "Hello, Henry," she greeted him, accepting a kiss on the cheek. "I am glad to see you. I knew you were touring in the north, but did not realize that Pemberley was on your itinerary." Elizabeth's face grew even redder. "We--we were in the neighbourhood, and my aunt wished to see the house." "Of course. I understand you perfectly." He turned to his friend. "Cat got your tongue, Darcy?" "May I enquire after your family, Miss Bennet?" asked Darcy in a low, hurried voice. His face was still flushed. "They are all very well, sir. I thank you." "Your friends in Meryton? They are all well?" For once in her life, Elizabeth failed to recognize an extremely diverting moment. She stared resolutely at the grass in front of Darcy's feet. "Yes, they are all well." "Your brother is well, as you see." Darcy waved a hand nervously in Henry's direction. "And Mrs. Tilney." "I am glad to hear it." Henry had walked over to the Gardiners and engaged them in conversation, and he was amused to note that they were as interested in what was passing between Darcy and Elizabeth as he was. Their conversation took on a distracted quality as they all strained to listen. Henry wondered if Elizabeth had told the Gardiners of Darcy's proposal. Probably not; Jane was a more likely confidante. "Are your sisters all well? Your mother and father?" "Yes, they are well, I thank you." Darcy mumbled a few more enquiries after the absent Bennets, repeating himself several times and appearing thoroughly ill at ease. Finally he bowed and walked away very quickly toward the main house. Elizabeth, who was no more composed than Darcy, turned on her heel and joined her friends. "Where are you staying?" Henry asked her. "Catherine is arriving tomorrow; may we call on you? I know she would like to see you." Elizabeth looked up at him in confusion. "Yes, of course. Do forgive me, Henry! I was just so startled--we are staying in the village of Lambton, at the Red Lion Inn. Please do bring Catherine to call. I would very much like to see her. But now, I think we should leave." "There is no reason to run away." Henry added mischievously, "I am quite sure that Darcy would like you to have a proper look about you." Elizabeth glanced up at him, her brow furrowed, then looked consciously at the Gardiners, as if warning him not to say too much. Henry took the hint. "I think Darcy expected me to follow him. I will bring Catherine to call." He hastened into the house. Darcy was in the entrance with the housekeeper. "And you showed them all over the house?" "Yes, Mr. Darcy. The young lady claimed an acquaintance with you." Darcy glanced at Henry. "Miss Bennet is Mr. Tilney's sister." "Is she, indeed! She never said so, I declare. And here is Mr. Tilney! How do you do, sir?" She turned back to Darcy. "Will you be wanting tea? Will the young lady and her friends be coming back to the house?" "I will invite them in for tea, but I do not know if they will stay," Darcy replied. "Very well, sir. I shall see to your rooms." She bustled away. Darcy turned to Henry with a wry smile. "So much for my fine plan to win Elizabeth's heart! I sounded a perfect booby out there!" "Then you know what you must do." Darcy nodded resolutely. "Yes. The initial shock has passed; I believe I can meet her with composure." He smiled at Henry. "I suppose it would be best to start over again and try to amend her first impression of me. Come, Tilney," he commanded, all at once the master of Pemberley instead of the stuttering lover he had been a few moments before. Henry followed the order willingly, and they set off for the wood in search of the party. Both Elizabeth and Darcy were a great deal more composed at this second meeting, and Elizabeth was even able to smile and admire the beauty of the estate; but she had not got beyond the words "delightful," and "charming," when she suddenly blushed, and said no more. Darcy glanced at Mrs. Gardiner, who stood a little behind, and asked gently, "Will you do me the honour of introducing me to your friends?" Elizabeth looked at Darcy, then at Henry; she seemed startled, but performed the introduction. Henry noticed a small smile as she watched Darcy's face. Henry could guess what she was thinking: that Darcy took the Gardiners for people of fashion, and might find a good reason to make his excuses when he learned that they were the connections he so despised. Indeed, Darcy blinked in surprise, but bore up manfully. He walked by Mr. Gardiner and engaged him in conversation, and was soon pointing out the best fishing spots along the stream. "You must come here before you leave the neighbourhood," Henry heard him saying. "I can provide you with tackle, and if I am otherwise occupied, the gillie will take you in hand." Henry looked down at his sister and smiled. She shook her head and whispered to Henry, "Such civility must be entirely a compliment to you." "Mr. Gardiner is not my uncle, Lizzy." Elizabeth did not respond, but looked thoughtful. They all walked a little further, and then Mrs. Gardiner, who was no great walker, found Elizabeth's arm inadequate to her support, and consequently preferred her husband's. Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on together. Henry hung back with the Gardiners, willing to give Darcy the opportunity to make himself agreeable to Elizabeth. Eventually they wound their way back to the house, where Darcy pressed them to go inside and take some refreshment; but this was declined, and they parted on each side with the utmost politeness. Darcy handed the ladies into the carriage and watched as they drove away. "So, tell me, Darcy," said Henry, "have you made a good start on winning Elizabeth's affection?" "I do not know," Darcy replied. "I cannot be sure. It may be too late--I may not have succeeded." He turned and walked slowly into the house. The carriages turned into the drive in a stately procession. Henry and Darcy, both anxious to receive their passengers, were on the lookout, and went outside to meet them. Catherine was the first to disembark; she ran to Henry, though Darcy's presence prevented her from indulging in an exuberant greeting. She smiled up at Henry sweetly, and he was pained to see faint rings beneath her eyes. "You look tired, Cat," he said. "I did not sleep very well last night." "Neither did I." Their eyes met; neither of them had to add, "because you were not there." "Welcome to Pemberley, Mrs. Tilney," said Darcy politely. "Good morning, Mr. Darcy! Thank you again for inviting us." "Tilney is welcome in my home at any time, as are you." "You are very kind, to be sure." Georgiana was just behind her friend, and greeted her brother brightly. "I am so glad to be home!" she cried as the servants began to carry in the luggage. "I have not been here since the winter! Everything is so green and lovely!" "You must ascertain if there have been any other changes since then," Darcy said with a smile. "Why, Fitzwilliam! What have you done?" "I would not spoil the surprise. Let us see how long it takes you to discover them." As it turned out, it did not take very long at all. The ladies went upstairs to wash off the dirt of the road, and Darcy winked at Henry. "Wait for it," he said. A moment later, they heard a girlish squeal of delight. Darcy grinned and beckoned Henry up the stairs. They went into a very pretty sitting-room, fitted up with greater elegance and lightness than the apartments below. Catherine and Georgiana were exclaiming together over the new furnishings. Georgiana turned glowing eyes upon her brother, who was smiling at her indulgently. "It is lovely, Fitzwilliam!" "You took a liking to this sitting-room the last time you were here, and it has not been redone for some years. Mother liked this room," Darcy added thoughtfully. "She used to write letters here. But you wouldn't remember that, I dare say." Georgiana went to him and took his hand. "You are too good," she said softly. "I do not deserve such generosity." Darcy tilted her chin up. "You are a good girl," he said. "I can think of no one who deserves it more." Henry watched them, frowning. There was an undercurrent that he did not understand. Had Georgiana done something that she thought would bring her brother's censure? Darcy glanced at them consciously, and Catherine took Henry's hand. "Show me where I may wash up," she said, tugging him toward the door. "Of course," Henry replied, recovering himself, and they slipped out of the room and left the siblings alone together. When Catherine had washed and changed her costume, they met the Darcys at the foot of the stairs. They passed through the drawing-room on their way to the breakfast parlour, and Georgiana gave a squeak of surprise. "A Broadwood grand pianoforte! For me?" She ran eagerly to the instrument. "Of course," said her brother, watching her fondly. "I do not play. It stands to reason that a pianoforte would be procured for your benefit." Georgiana ran her hands gently over the keys. "Catherine, look! Oh, how I wish you could play it, too!" Catherine replied, "I am sure I will have a great deal of pleasure from listening to you play." "Thank you, Fitzwilliam," Georgiana said to her brother, her face clearly showing her pleasure. "You are very welcome. I hope you will indulge us during our stay." "Of course I will! I can hardly wait to play it!" "Practice later," said Darcy, taking her hand and leading her away. "You have not yet had your breakfast." "I had a cup of tea at the inn," Georgiana protested. "Tut! You need more than a cup of tea to keep up your strength. I'll not have you swooning over your instrument." When they were all seated at the table, Henry said to Catherine, "I have a piece of news for you. My sister Elizabeth is staying in the village of Lambton, very nearby. I have promised to bring you to call." Catherine smiled her pleasure, and Miss Bingley looked her alarm. Henry continued, "We shall go tomorrow, if that will suit you." "Tomorrow?" cried Catherine. "Let us go today! I would so much like to see Lizzy!" Henry began to protest, assuming that Darcy would not agree to the scheme; however, to his surprise, Darcy was perfectly agreeable. "Will you come with us, Georgiana?" Darcy asked his sister. "I would very much like you to meet Miss Elizabeth Bennet." Miss Bingley stabbed a piece of toast viciously with her fork. Georgiana, still warm in her gratitude toward her brother, was perfectly agreeable. Soon they were all collected to set off for Lambton, and Henry was not terribly surprised to find Bingley of their party. Henry watched Bingley carefully, looking for any particularity toward Georgiana. Miss Darcy's face was still flushed with pleasure, and her smile and sparkling eyes as she spoke to her brother were certainly attractive, but Bingley seemed more eager to see Elizabeth than to be with Georgiana. "Your sisters do not wish to come with us?" Henry asked Bingley. "No; Caroline and Louisa are rather done for this morning, I am afraid." They all piled into a large carriage, and a liveried servant shut the door and leapt up behind. When they arrived at the Red Lion Inn, the maidservant trembled visibly at the sight of Mr. Darcy, though he took pains to speak to her kindly. She showed them into a small parlour where Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner stood ready to meet them. Catherine, never one to stand on ceremony, rushed forward and embraced Elizabeth warmly. "Lizzy, you must meet my dear friend," she said, drawing Georgiana forward. Before long the three girls were chatting together, though it was clear that Elizabeth and Catherine were carrying the load of the conversation. Henry looked at Darcy apprehensively; he knew that Darcy particularly wanted Elizabeth and Georgiana to meet, and wondered if he were unhappy at having his place in the introduction usurped. Darcy, however, appeared perfectly sanguine, smiling as he watched them. "I hope I am man enough to admit when I am wrong, Tilney," he said softly. "Your wife is perfectly charming. She is unspoilt, generous, and kind: just the sort of young woman I would have as an intimate for my sister." Henry bowed, just as Elizabeth looked up and caught Darcy's eye. "If I may interrupt," said Darcy, "Mr. Bingley has gone on a short commission for his sister, but he should be joining us presently." Just then they heard Bingley's quick step on the stairs, and he was with them in a moment. Henry wondered how Elizabeth would meet Bingley, but any anger she felt could hardly have stood its ground against the unaffected cordiality with which he expressed himself on seeing her again. He enquired in a friendly, though general way, after her family, and looked and spoke with good-humoured ease. The entire party was as friendly as anyone could wish, and Henry could not help feeling glad that Bingley's sisters had stayed away, and there was a moment when he thought Bingley probably felt the same way. Henry overheard him observe to Elizabeth in a tone which had something of real regret, "It has been a very long time since I had the pleasure of speaking with you. I did not have the opportunity at your brother's wedding; indeed, we have not spoken together since the 26th of November, when we were all dancing together at Netherfield." Elizabeth seemed pleased to find his memory so exact. A moment later, Bingley added in an undertone, "Are all your sisters at Longbourn?" There was not much in the question, nor in the preceding remark, but there was a look and manner which gave them meaning. "Lydia is visiting friends at Brighton, but the others are all at home." Elizabeth's eyes met Bingley's in perfect understanding, and Henry smiled to himself and turned back to the others. Darcy, for his part, wore an expression of general complaisance. His haughty company manners had been abandoned; he was as desirous to please, as free from self-consequence or unbending reserve, as he was among any of his closest friends. Elizabeth's eyes rested on him occasionally, full of approval, and something else that gave Henry cause to think that Darcy's campaign to win her heart had an excellent chance of success. For his part, Darcy made no effort to hide his admiration for Elizabeth. They stayed above half an hour; when they arose to depart, Darcy said, "I believe Georgiana will join me in expressing my wish of having you all to dinner at Pemberley before you leave this country." "Oh, yes, please do," said Georgiana with a diffidence which marked her little in the habit of giving invitations. Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece questioningly, but Elizabeth had turned away her head. Presuming, however, that this studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment than any dislike of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond of society, a perfect willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage for her attendance, and the day after the next was fixed on. Bingley shook Elizabeth's hand cordially, and said, "I am delighted to know that we will meet again, Miss Bennet. I have still a great deal to say to you, and many enquiries to make after all our friends in Hertfordshire." Elizabeth could not help but smile. The gentlemen had settled it that Mr. Gardiner would come to Pemberley the next day for the promised fishing scheme. Darcy spent a great deal of time at the side of his new acquaintance, ensuring that he had the proper tackle and good sport. Mr. Gardiner had soon landed two trout, and he encouraged Darcy to tend his own rod. "I would not have it said that I abused your hospitality," he laughed, "especially since my wife and niece are within at this moment." "Your wife?" asked Darcy, startled. "And--and Miss Bennet? They are here, at Pemberley?" "Yes, they spoke of it last night. They planned to return Miss Darcy's visit this morning." "Indeed?" Darcy lapsed into an extended, brooding silence while the gentlemen joked and laughed. After a few moments he turned to Henry. "Perhaps I should return to the house, just for a moment. Georgiana is not yet accustomed to receive morning callers." Henry could not resist teasing his friend. "I think Miss Darcy is entirely capable of receiving her own visitors. You wish her to be more outgoing in company, do not you? This will be an excellent test." "Yes, I dare say you are right." He grew thoughtful again, and after some consideration, he handed his fishing rod to the gillie. "I think I should return to the house, just for a moment." Bingley glanced over at Darcy wryly, then shook his head and returned his attention to the stream. "You go on, Darcy. Carry my compliments to Miss Bennet." "I shall accompany you," said Henry, "as I am having rather poor luck." Darcy did not seem to hear him, but strode off toward the house. Coolness enveloped them as they entered. They handed their hats to the servant, and Darcy went to a small mirror hanging nearby. He wiped his face with a handkerchief and adjusted his neckcloth. Henry watched him silently, eyebrows raised. When he was finished with his primping, Darcy glanced at Henry consciously and muttered, "Do not look at me so." "How am I looking at you?" Henry asked innocently as he followed Darcy into the saloon, where the ladies were gathered around a table laden with refreshments. Though the pyramids of fresh fruit in season were inviting, the atmosphere was tense; Mrs. Annesley and Mrs. Gardiner were talking together, and Elizabeth and Catherine joined in occasionally, but Georgiana was too shy and the sisters too superior to contribute a great deal to the conversation. With her brother in the room, Georgiana made more of an effort to speak, especially to Elizabeth. Darcy sat by his sister and seemed anxious to forward her acquaintance with Elizabeth. Miss Bingley watched them, her brows drawn together. During a lull in the conversation she said with sneering civility, "Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the -----shire militia removed from Meryton? They must be a great loss to your family." In Darcy's presence she dared not mention Wickham's name; but Henry instantly comprehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts, and so did Elizabeth, judging by the slight flush that spread across her cheeks. To Henry's surprise, Georgiana seemed overcome by confusion, unable to raise her eyes, and Darcy directed an earnest gaze at Elizabeth. An idea formed in Henry's mind that there had been some connection between Georgiana and Wickham--but how could that be? And why would Darcy look at Elizabeth so, as though he were asking her to come to the younger girl's rescue? But it was Catherine who spoke up. "My husband and I were at Longbourn just last week, Miss Bingley," she said brightly. "We never lacked for company, even though the officers had gone away. I do not think we dined in a family party once during our entire visit, did we, Henry? It is very kind of you to think of it, however." With an effort, Henry managed not to laugh aloud, even as his heart swelled with pride. Darling Catherine! Without an ounce of malice in her soul, she had assumed that Caroline's verbal dart was nothing more than a pleasant enquiry after absent friends. As was her practice, Catherine projected her own good nature onto others, and unwittingly turned the dart back on its author. Miss Bingley subsided, her lips pursed in vexed disappointment. Henry reached for Catherine's hand and lifted it to his lips. Elizabeth, Darcy, and Georgiana were all looking their gratitude, and he did not wish to be behindhand. Catherine seemed surprised by the sudden attention, but she simply smiled and helped Henry to a piece of cake. Elizabeth and her aunt left shortly afterward. Darcy attended them to their carriage, accompanied by Henry and Catherine. When they returned to the saloon, Miss Bingley and her sister abruptly stopped talking; they were probably abusing Elizabeth, Henry thought grimly. Georgiana had taken up her fancy-work and was pointedly ignoring them. "You know, Mr. Tilney," said Miss Bingley, "it would be a kindness to tell your sister that she should take better care to protect her skin from the sun. She grows quite brown and coarse. Louisa and I were agreeing that we should not have known her again." Henry opened his mouth to speak, but Darcy said coolly, "I perceived no other alteration than her being rather tanned; no miraculous consequence of traveling in the summer." Miss Bingley, in her anger and jealousy, did not take the well-bred hint. "Tanned or no, Miss Eliza Bennet must always suffer under the comparison between herself and dear Jane. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants character; there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine, I never could perceive anything extraordinary in them." Catherine was all indignance, and would have spoken, but Henry shook his head at her and pressed her hand. She understood this conjugal shorthand well enough to stay quiet, though her expression showed as much as she might have said aloud. Henry, interested in Darcy's quick defense of Elizabeth, wanted to hear more; and knowing Darcy's heart as Caroline could not, he was perfectly willing to allow Miss Bingley to hoist herself on her own petard. "Miss Eliza herself admits she has few accomplishments, and her performance on the pianoforte is nothing remarkable. She is not at all the sort of young lady who would move well in the higher social circles." Persuaded as Miss Bingley was that Darcy admired Elizabeth, this was not the best method of recommending herself; but angry people are not always wise; and in seeing him at last look somewhat nettled, she had all the success she expected. He was resolutely silent, however; and from a determination of making him speak she continued, "I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty; though afterward she seemed to improve on you, Mr. Darcy. I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time." "Yes," replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, "but that was only when I first knew her; for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance." Catherine forgot her anger, her eyes opening wide in surprise; she looked at Henry and opened her mouth as if to speak, but she stayed silent, consciously watching Darcy as he left the room. When he was gone, Catherine said in an overly loud voice, "Henry, I would speak with you for a moment." Henry swallowed a smile and followed her out of the room. When they could not be seen, she took his hand and urgently pulled him into an empty room nearby. She had an air of suppressed secrecy, and Henry could guess at the secret even before she spoke. "Henry," she whispered, "does Mr. Darcy like Lizzy?" "He does," said Henry, smiling down at her. Catherine laughed and clapped her hands; then the smile slowly left her face. "But...does Lizzy like Mr. Darcy?" "I cannot say for sure. You are a woman, Cat; what do you think?" "Well," said Catherine consideringly, "I think Lizzy likes him, a little bit. She is very much in the way of falling in love with him, though, and will probably do so before long." She laughed and threw her arms around his neck. "A romance, Henry!" she cried in delight, punctuating it with a warm kiss. "Could anything be more delightful?" "Nothing at all," laughed Henry, holding her close. Continued in Next Chapter ~ Table of Contents By A Lady Comment on this story Home ~ Site Map ~ Contact Original Images and Content Copyright © 2002 by Margaret C. Sullivan. All Rights Reserved.