Page 16 of A Most Unfortunate Gentleman

Netherfield

Elizabeth

That morning at the breakfast table, Elizabeth observed a brightness in Mr. Darcy’s eyes that had been notably absent on previous occasions.

He appeared a man transformed; the clouded greyness she had come to associate with his guarded and uncertain countenance nearly vanished.

He no longer seemed overly cautious or weighed down by the presence of company.

The thought lingered in her mind, particularly as she recalled his remarkable display of delight following their shared success at whist the previous evening.

Before they retired for the night, Jane had teased her in a conspiratorial tone, calling her Mr. Darcy’s good-luck charm.

The remark had amused Elizabeth, especially as it followed their earlier discussion concerning the curious abundance of misfortunes she had observed befalling him.

Now, at breakfast, Mr. Darcy was engaged and lively in conversation.

He inquired about her younger sisters and, to Elizabeth’s surprise, spoke with unguarded affection of his own sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.

Elizabeth was surprised to know that there were but two Darcys remaining.

He had spoken of her during their conversation the previous evening, but Elizabeth had not presumed her to be his only sibling.

She could not imagine a life so sparse in familial intimacy.

She wondered what life must have been like for the younger Miss Darcy.

Elizabeth, having always resided under the same roof as her parents and four sisters, could scarcely imagine being parted from one’s only immediate family member for such extended periods, dependent instead upon governesses and the goodwill of distant relations.

It was, however, a comfort to hear Mr. Darcy mention that he and his sister were in constant correspondence.

Elizabeth could not help but wonder whether Mr. Darcy had ever mentioned her in any of his letters to his sister. And if he had, what could he possibly have said? She had no answer, but the speculation brought a touch of colour to her cheek.

The meal itself proved most delightful. It was the first breakfast Elizabeth truly enjoyed at Netherfield, not only because Jane had risen in perfect health, but also on account of the ease and warmth that characterised the morning conversation.

Moreover, the kind wishes expressed by Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst did not go unnoticed.

The one blot upon the occasion came, predictably, in the form of Miss Bingley.

Elizabeth believed herself used to the lady’s frequent looks of disdain, but this morning, the edge of that contempt seemed sharpened beyond civility.

She interrupted Elizabeth’s exchanges with Mr. Darcy no fewer than three times and glared in a manner so intense that Elizabeth might have described it as venomous.

Elizabeth, however, dismissed it as either the sting of petty jealousy or the pride of a lady who fancied herself above sharing a breakfast table with a country gentleman’s daughter.

Dr. Jones was not required to confirm Jane’s recovery, for she was in such excellent spirits that she had woken Elizabeth herself.

Nevertheless, in fulfilment of his promise the day before, he called at Netherfield and, after a brief examination, gave his professional approval for her return to Longbourn, pronouncing her perfectly recovered.

Following a quiet consultation with Elizabeth, Jane announced that they would depart just after noon. Mr. Bingley at once offered the use of his carriage for their conveyance, adding that a footman would follow on horseback to lead the mare Jane had ridden to Netherfield.

Not long after these arrangements had been concluded, Elizabeth, Jane, the Hursts, and Miss Bingley were gathered in the drawing room when Miss Bingley’s countenance brightened with sudden animation, as though a brilliant notion had just occurred to her.

“Oh, what a charming afternoon it has turned out to be!” she exclaimed, casting a glance toward the sunlit windows.

“Might we take a turn about the grounds before your departure? The air is most invigorating, and I must confess, I grow weary of sitting indoors. A brief walk, perhaps, to stretch our legs?”

Mrs. Hurst nodded her agreement from her position on the settee. "An excellent notion, Caroline. A gentle stroll would be most agreeable."

As the party began to organise itself, Miss Bingley immediately attached herself to Jane's arm.

"My dear Jane, you simply must see our rose garden.

I dare say the blooms of the orangery are especially fine this year, and as you have been unwell since your arrival, I suspect you have yet to see them. "

It was at this moment that Mr. Darcy entered the drawing room, having just returned from wherever his morning business had taken him.

“A walk?” he said when he learned of the party’s intentions. Though he appeared to be addressing the room at large, his gaze lingered unmistakably on Elizabeth. “How fortuitous. I should be most obliged to accompany you, if I may be permitted.”

Elizabeth felt a flutter of surprise. She had expected Miss Bingley to immediately abandon Jane and hasten to Mr. Darcy's side. Instead, the woman seemed quite content to maintain her hold on Jane's arm, chattering about the various improvements that had been made to the grounds.

Mr. Bingley was nowhere in sight, having been called away to attend to some business with his steward, which left the party to arrange itself naturally. Mrs. Hurst and her husband rose at a languid pace, while Mr. Darcy approached Elizabeth with a slight bow.

"Miss Elizabeth," he said, offering his arm, "would you do me the honour of accompanying me?"

Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm slightly as she accepted his offered arm. "Certainly, Mr. Darcy."

As they stepped into the soft afternoon light and took to the winding path that threaded through Netherfield's grounds, Elizabeth could not help but feel a stirring of curiosity.

Mr. Darcy, much as he had been at breakfast, appeared altogether altered in manner.

He seemed happier, more at ease, even eager.

"I understand you have family in London, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said as they walked, his tone casual.

"Yes, indeed," Elizabeth replied, glancing up at him with some surprise at the personal nature of the inquiry. "My uncle and aunt Gardiner live there. That’s my mother's brother and his wife. They are quite dear to us all."

"Do you visit them often? London, I mean."

"Once each year, typically," Elizabeth said, noting the genuine interest in his voice.

"I hope to see them again at Christmas. It is always such a pleasure to spend time in their company.

" She paused, then added with a slight smile, "And how often do you find yourself in London, Mr. Darcy?

I imagine a gentleman of your position has considerable business there. "

"Quite often, as it happens," he replied. "My sister Georgiana is currently in residence there, along with my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I was, in fact, with them before coming to Hertfordshire."

Elizabeth laughed, the sound light and musical in the afternoon air. "For a man of your station, one would think you would soon relocate to London entirely. Yet I have heard you stay in Derbyshire. How curious."

A shadow of something—perhaps thoughtfulness—crossed Mr. Darcy's features.

"I have considered it once," he admitted.

"But I find I am not entirely suited to the constant society that London demands.

Moreover, the estate my father left me in Derbyshire is quite extensive, though there are some properties in London as well. "

"It must be quite substantial indeed," Elizabeth observed, "to prefer it over the elite society of London."

"Oh, it is," Mr. Darcy said, and there was unmistakable pride in his voice. "It is called Pemberley. Perhaps you have heard of it?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I confess I have not."

"It is quite a place," he continued, his voice taking on a warmth she had rarely heard from him before.

"I believe it could rival any estate in the country.

I wish I could adequately describe it to you, but perhaps.

.." He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully.

"Perhaps it would be better if you could see it in person. "

Elizabeth felt heat flood her cheeks at this unexpected statement.

Was Mr. Darcy actually inviting her to visit his estate?

The implications of such an invitation were not lost on her, and she found herself momentarily speechless, her mind racing to understand what he might mean by such a suggestion.

She was still pondering this remarkable turn in their conversation when a sudden commotion ahead drew her attention. Miss Bingley, who had been walking with Jane perhaps twenty paces in front of them, suddenly stumbled backwards with a sharp cry of distress.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her bonnet flying from her head as she fell directly into Mr. Darcy's path. "My ankle!"

Mr. Darcy, with admirable reflexes, attempted to leap over the fallen lady to avoid a collision. However, his foot caught on her discarded bonnet, and he tumbled forward, landing rather ungracefully face-first on the gravelled path.

Elizabeth rushed forward along with the others, helping to assist Mr. Darcy to his feet while Jane tended to Miss Bingley. As she brushed the dust from his coat, Elizabeth could have sworn she caught a glimpse of satisfaction—or was it a smile?—flickering across Miss Bingley's lips.

"Oh, my poor ankle," Miss Bingley continued to lament as Jane helped her to stand.

"I fear Dr. Jones may need to be summoned again to examine it properly.

" She paused, seeming to consider this prospect, then waved her hand dismissively.

"Though perhaps if I simply massage it with some oil this evening, I shall be quite recovered. Yes, I am certain that will suffice."

At Jane’s gentle insistence that she rest her ankle, Miss Bingley followed her at a very slow pace back toward the house.

The Hursts trailed behind at a lazy gait.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, cast a glance between Miss Bingley, whose miraculous recovery seemed to border on the theatrical, and Mr. Darcy, whose appearance was undeniably rumpled.

She could not help but conclude that there was something decidedly amiss in the whole affair.

Mr. Darcy, for his part, maintained that he was quite well, though the set of his jaw and the colour rising on his cheeks bespoke displeasure, perhaps even a touch of embarrassment.

Elizabeth could not help but wonder if this, too, was one of Mr. Darcy’s misfortunes, though she was not quite convinced of it this time.

With no one left outdoors to lend propriety to further conversation, and Mr. Darcy quite evidently in need of a fresh coat at the very least, she fell into step beside him and together they followed the remainder of the party into the house.