Page 32 of Done for the Best (Engaged to Mr Darcy #5)
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE SWEETS OF AUTUMN
D arcy did not come to Netherfield.
According to the reports of the town gossips, Netherfield boasted only a small family party—Mr and Miss Bingley and Mr and Mrs Hurst. Elizabeth did her best to hide her disappointment from Jane, wishing to allow her sister all the delights of a hopeful heart.
On the day appointed for Mr Bennet to call at Netherfield and welcome Mr Bingley back to the neighbourhood, it was reported that he had immediately gone away again. Mr Bennet was relieved, but the Bennet ladies were confused. Happily, he returned almost immediately—again alone—but unhappily, Mr Bennet refused to go and see him.
“He will call on us soon enough,” Elizabeth assured her sister as they walked into Meryton one afternoon. “He must! He is desperately in love with you!”
“Lizzy, I do not forget that you do not even recollect the whole of the autumn. You can have no idea of whether the gentleman ever even liked me.”
“I do recollect when he called at Gracechurch Street, though, and the man was positively miserable at the notion of marrying another. And even more miserable that you might marry another! It would be extraordinary to think such a man would not be running here at his first opportunity.”
“It is vexing, this dance of courtship we are all required to dance. Why can it not be easy? Why cannot a lady go to a man and say, ‘I am in love with you and think we ought to get married’. Easy as that!”
“I am not sure I would be able to be so brazen!” Elizabeth mused, her thoughts, as ever, on Darcy. “And in any case, imagine the horrors of being rejected. A lady can only have the power of refusal, it is true, but at least we have not that sorrow, the burden of being the one who must ask.”
A familiar pain thrust into Elizabeth’s heart, thinking of how Darcy must have felt after his first proposal was so cruelly rejected. She still could not remember anything about it but knew from his letter how vitriolic she must have been. Was it any wonder he stayed away? If nothing else, the time since Brighton had wholly convinced her that he was right to despise her, a woman who rejected him a multitude of times, who had tossed aside all his kindness in Kent, and who concluded by nonsensically running off with his sworn enemy. It was not a flattering portrait he had of her, and she knew that if she ever did see him again, mortification would be her primary feeling.
The ladies had no true object in coming into town, other than the wish to be out of the drawing room for a while. Jane wished to go to the draper’s, so they went, but her sister’s interest in fabrics and trim was always much in excess of Elizabeth’s. At length, she said, “I believe I might go over and see what is new in Mr Hatchard’s bookshop. I imagine very little, but he might surprise me.”
“Mm,” Jane said. She was holding a length of palest blue silk up to her skin.
It suited her very well, and Elizabeth told her so, then added, “I shall return shortly I am sure, but if you finish before I do, come to the bookshop.”
Jane nodded, her attention now fixed on a different length of pale blue silk, and Elizabeth chuckled and went to see the books. She spent a quarter of an hour browsing, taking up one book and then another, none of them interesting her in the least.
She was in the midst of the first chapter of Manfroné when a male voice interrupted her browsing. “Shall you pay for that or just stand here and read it for free?”
Whirling round, she beheld Saye, leant against the nearest bookcase and grinning. “I have been standing here nearly ten minutes complete, and you have scarcely done more than open and close books, all with a little frown.”
She laughed, a little weakly. “I am afraid I can find nothing to suit me, but I must credit it to my own inability to concentrate. I am sure the books themselves cannot be held to account. W-what do you do here?”
“Bingley has invited some of us down.” With an easy grin, he added, “As for why I am in the shop, I suppose I just wished to poke about and see what’s where.”
Her pulse quickened a little, and before she could stop herself, she said, “Is Mr Darcy with you?”
Saye shook his head, then tilted it and said, “Do you not think you might have noticed a tall, glowering man stamping about?”
Elizabeth laughed, but it was more the sound of discomfort than amusement. A sinking feeling pervaded her. He is not here. He did not come.
“I have been over by Hatfield. A lady I know lives over there.”
Elizabeth forced herself away from the thoughts which would give her pain for many weeks. “In Hatfield? Is it Miss Goddard?”
“You know her?”
“No, not really. Only a little,” Elizabeth admitted. “My sister knows her much better than I do.”
“You simply must tell her how wonderful I am next time you see her.” He yawned. “I have a new curricle, very fast, and my horse has been eager to stretch his legs. Should you like a ride? Or do you mean to shuffle disinterestedly about these heaven-forsaken shops all day?”
The shopkeeper looked up at this pronouncement and frowned in their direction.
Saye smiled at him. “I did not mean your shop of course, good sir. I will take six of them, how is that?”
“Six…books?” The shopkeeper looked interested if dubious.
“Dealer’s choice, but do let us include this one for Miss Bennet,” he said with a smile. Walking towards the man, he slid one hand into the pocket of his jacket, withdrawing a handful of coins. “Ten guineas should cover it, I daresay.”
The shopkeeper’s kindly face had moved from astonished doubt to delight, and he bowed. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir, you are too good.”
“Pray select some good ones for me,” Saye ordered. “Nothing of the pious variety, now!”
So charged, the shopkeeper set to work and in short time had the books wrapped in a neat bundle. He offered to take them to Saye’s curricle, and while he exited, the open door revealed Jane.
“Lizzy, there you are. I began to think you would never…” Her words died upon her lips as she beheld her sister’s companion.
“This is one of your sisters, I suppose?” Saye asked. “I should like an introduction, if you will do the honours.”
Jane took a few more steps towards them, and Elizabeth introduced her. She saw that Jane’s beauty was not lost on Saye, but his interest was more of the connoisseur than the lover.
“Your sister has been plaguing me for a ride in my curricle,” Saye informed Jane. “It only seats two, but as the pair of you are small, I daresay we can make it work if someone holds Florizel.”
“Who is Florizel?” Jane asked as Saye began moving their little group onto the street where they beheld a curricle, Prussian blue with cream and gilt edges. A charming sight greeted them: a fluffy white dog, wearing a blue velvet collar that matched the curricle.
“Here you see my absolute dearest friend in the world,” Saye pronounced. “Florizel! Bow!”
Elizabeth and Jane both laughed delightedly as the dog, who had risen up on all four legs to wag his tail and greet them, lowered his head between his two front legs. He then looked expectantly at Saye who slid his hand into his pocket, producing some sort of dried meat. He broke off a piece and handed it to the dog. Noting Elizabeth’s curiosity, he offered her a bite as well, then Jane.
“I thank you, no,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “What is it? Dried beef?”
“Venison,” he replied with a sniff. “He does not care for beef. He thinks it too common.” Taking a bite himself, Saye assisted both ladies up, then walked round to the other side of the curricle and climbed in.
Elizabeth sat, drawing Florizel onto her lap. The pup curved his head back to look at her and then looked ahead, ready to depart it seemed.
“I ought to tell you, sir, that our home is but a mile that way,” Jane said, gesturing towards the lane that would take them to Longbourn.
“Then I shall just have to take you to Netherfield instead. Twice the ride, twice the fun.”
“Netherfield?” Jane asked, her voice sounding very high and anxious.
“Charming place,” said Saye. “Acquaintance of mine called Bingley bought it, intending to get married, but it seems the lady reconsidered her options.”
“Is that how it was?” Elizabeth enquired. “My father had heard that Mr Bingley’s engagement went off, but we knew not how.”
“Bingley is unmarried, unengaged, untangled. By the very skin of his teeth, I might add!” Saye laughed and gave another little flick of the reins. “We all thought, how better to cheer him than to have an excellent party! Though in truth it is less consolation than celebration. Miss Roberts is a termagant, and I loathed her exceedingly.”
The horses, which had been moving out of town at a more sedate pace, took off. Elizabeth had never ridden in such a conveyance and found the experience of racing through the countryside exhilarating, even if she had to raise one hand to hold her bonnet in place. In very short time, they were turning in to the lane to take them to Netherfield’s door. Elizabeth thought how anxious the sight of it would make her if she knew Darcy were within.
Mrs Nicholls answered the door, smiling as she greeted them and quickly divesting them all of gloves, bonnets, pelisses, and Saye’s greatcoat and hat. She handed them to a waiting maid beside her and then said, “Mr and Miss Bingley are with Mr Darcy and Miss Grantley in the drawing room.”
She set off at a sprightly pace, Florizel trotting beside her, evidently well-accustomed to the house. Jane turned to her sister, looking pale and anxious. She had not uttered a word since Saye told them Mr Bingley was not married, and Elizabeth could only imagine what contrariety of emotion her dear sister must experience. Jane followed Mrs Nicholls, shoulders straight and head high, evidently prepared to confront things head-on.
Elizabeth had no such courage. The very word ‘Darcy’ had set a great stone of mortification upon her head, and she nearly turned around and ran. How can I face him? How can I face his coldness? She was not prepared to truly comprehend the love she had lost from him.
“You will find it easier to get to the drawing room if you move your feet, Miss Elizabeth,” Saye said gravely.
She allowed herself to be moved towards the drawing room. “Forgive me, I-I am only a little surprised.”
Saye looked about the hall. “Yes, I understand a great deal of work has been done to the place.”
“No, not by Netherfield itself.” She lowered her voice. “You said he was not here!”
“What? Did not.”
“You did,” she insisted. “You said I would notice a tall fellow.”
“I thought you wished to know whether he was in the shop. Which he was not.”
Elizabeth huffed. “Obviously that was not my meaning.”
“Am I to know your mind?”
They had come to the drawing room door, but she held back, whispering, “Surely you must be enough in Mr Darcy’s confidence to know that neither of us wishes to see one another?”
In a customary, if perhaps loud, voice, Saye enquired, “You mean to avoid Darcy? Why?”
“Shh!” she hissed, feeling colour flood her cheeks. “That is not what I said. I said we, each of us, has no wish to see the other.”
Mrs Nicholls had seen Jane into the drawing room and now turned back, walking a few steps to just outside the door where Elizabeth and Saye lingered. “Miss Elizabeth? Is there something wrong?”
“Forgive me. I…n-no, only, I am intruding. I did not mean to, um, intrude upon… Mr Bingley has guests, and I ought not to…to intrude.”
“If I am understanding you,” Saye said satirically, “you feel like an intruder?”
She shot him a look.
“Mr Bingley will be glad to see you here,” Mrs Nicholls assured her. “As amiable as he is, he is always glad for more to join the party.”
The drawing room door remained open from Jane’s entry, and Elizabeth peeped through the opening to see Mr Bingley, his complexion ruddy and eyes bright, greeting her sister. Her heart sank knowing she must make a good show of things, for Jane if no one else. Into the breach, then , she thought and, with an uneasy smile at Mrs Nicholls, entered the drawing room.
It was both familiar and not. There were a great many changes, but as Elizabeth did not recall the prior autumn, she knew not whether Mr Bingley’s former betrothed or someone else had made them. In any case, the entire room was rearranged from that which she remembered, and thus Elizabeth did not immediately see Darcy, not until she had walked farther in the room and looked to her left. He stood near the couch on the proximal wall, partly obscured by the opened door. He was not looking at her, having evidently found something of keen interest on the floor by his feet. There were two very pretty ladies, both dressed very finely, both still seated on the couch; they must have been flanking him. Closely. Mr Bingley’s sisters, she supposed.
“Miss Eliza,” drawled the one with darker hair. “How wonderful to see you and so well recovered. What an ordeal you have had!”
Without looking up, Darcy murmured something to her that made both ladies break into laughter. “Oh, dear! Still?”
Another murmur.
“Miss Eliza, Mr Darcy thinks it possible you do not even know me. Surely that cannot be?”
Elizabeth offered an uneasy smile that faded as she watched Darcy abruptly leave the room. Saye, still near her side, said, “Excuse me,” and followed him. She turned her attention back to her hostess.
“Forgive me, but yes, that is true. Might I presume that you are Miss Bingley?”
This led to another round of titters and expressive glances between both ladies. At last, the presumed Miss Bingley rose and came to where Elizabeth still stood awkwardly in what felt like the middle of the room.
Taking both of Elizabeth’s hands, she spoke very slowly, with condescending solicitude. “Yes, my dear, I am Miss Caroline Bingley. That is my friend Miss Julia Grantley, but fear not! This is your first meeting of her.”
“Thank you,” said Elizabeth, and Miss Bingley dropped her hands and returned to the couch. She did not invite Elizabeth to join them, or even to take a seat, and Elizabeth knew now why Darcy had told her, so long ago, that Miss Bingley was the sort of woman who was only truly a friend to herself. She glanced over and saw that Mr Bingley and Jane were talking, their heads bent towards one another. If I must endure torture, at least Jane will benefit.
Not knowing what else to do, she crossed the room and took up a position by a window. In truth, it suited her to leave the ladies behind—she would much rather think about Darcy. ‘I want nothing from you.’ Evidently that included her very presence. Had her mistake with Mr Wickham made him despise her? He certainly seemed as though he did.
Such fits and starts between them both! Contention had led, somehow, to his first proposal; then an all too short period of exquisite felicity, after which they had more contention, her thinking him untrustworthy. Then him thinking her silly and untrustworthy as well. And now? Painful awkwardness.
She chanced a look over her shoulder. Miss Grantley and Miss Bingley were tittering over something, Miss Bingley’s fan raised to cover their undoubtedly gossiping mouths. Elizabeth felt as though she might be the object of their amusement but could not rouse herself to care. She hoped Darcy would return to the drawing room even as much as she dreaded it. It was wonderful to rest her eyes on him, even if his lack of warmth towards her was agonising.
Saye did not bother knocking before shoving open the door to Darcy’s bedchamber.
“Not now,” Darcy said immediately. “I am in no humour?—”
“What in the blazing ballocks of Napoleon are you about?” Saye demanded of him, one hand on his hip. “I ought to knock you right on the skull. I bring her to you on a platter?—”
“By tricking her into believing I was not here!”
“And?”
“And she loathed the very sight of me!” Darcy shouted back at him. “I heard you, Saye, I heard you both in the hall, and I know how little she wished to see me!”
Saye glanced up at the ceiling briefly before admitting, “She may have been somewhat reluctant, ’tis true?—”
“Thank you for admitting that much at least!”
“—but I know just what you need to do now. First you must?—”
“No! No more schemes, no more plans, no more trickery. Elizabeth Bennet and I are a hopeless cause.” Wearily he sank into a chair, the truth of that statement seeping into him.
“You surely do not mean to give up?”
“What else is there to do? Over and over again, she makes her feelings known to me. Her reply to my first proposal was that I was the last man in the world she would ever marry, and despite a dreadful injury and illness, despite having no recollection of nearly a year of her life, in this she remains true to herself.”
He waited for Saye to argue it, to say something pithy or annoying, but Saye did not, and somehow his spirits sank even more. A lump, like a hard ball of lead, sank into his gut, and he followed it by lowering his head into his hands. “It is time for me to accept things the way they are.”
There was a short silence, then Saye offered, “What if she were to be knocked on the head again? Not enough to gravely injure her, just enough to?—”
Darcy gave his cousin a look meant to quell his nonsense.
“What I mean is that if we could get her to forget again the whole deception thing, then you could?—”
“I do not think amnesia can be tailored in such a way.”
“You could make her jealous. Make her watch you make love to Miss Grantley.”
Darcy did not even reply to that.
“If you were to get her alone, you might be able to?—”
“Pray stop, Saye.” He again lowered his head into his hands. The worst of it was that Saye’s outlandish schemes truly were all he had left. Everything else had failed. He had failed.
He heard Saye sit in the chair opposite him and draw a deep breath. After several long, silent minutes, his cousin cleared his throat. “It is perhaps a bad time to mention this, but you do owe me ten pounds for getting her here.”