Page 6

AN UNEXPECTED PLEASURE

I t was two days before guilt finally induced Darcy to look for Bingley.

He had left Grosvenor Street even angrier with him than before—and even less desirous of speaking to him.

Yet, whilst he disliked Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst’s insinuations about his power over their brother, Bingley really needed to be told at least what not to do—which in this case was to involve himself in any way with Elizabeth’s sister.

Thus, resolved to speak to him, Darcy decided to visit Boodle’s. He himself was a member both there and at White’s but preferred the latter, whilst Bingley had membership only at the former. That had made it easy to avoid him and would, he hoped, make it a similarly simple matter to find him.

Reluctance slowed his stride as he sauntered down St James’s Street.

He passed White’s bow window, touching his hat in greeting at two acquaintances, Kilmarnock and Reeves, seated therein.

They signalled to him to join them, and he was attempting to communicate with gestures that he was expected elsewhere, when a familiar voice stole his attention.

“Good day, Mr Darcy.”

With a palpable flurry of anticipation, yet not quite believing it could be her, he turned around—and there she was: Elizabeth Bennet.

She had a young child clinging to her hand, but Darcy spared the girl only the briefest look; his eyes were fixed on Elizabeth.

Her cheeks were pinked and her eyes sparkling from the cold.

Her mouth held her customary smile of private laughter.

Her expression was everything all at once—inquisitive, penetrating, challenging, and amused—the sort of expression one could get lost in for days.

He smiled broadly, giving away far more of his feelings than he would have chosen had he any command of the situation, and bowed.

“Miss Bennet! This is an unexpected pleasure.”

She looked vaguely unsure, and he found himself absurdly eager to convince her that he spoke the truth.

“Might I have the pleasure of an introduction to your friend?”

She looked positively astonished at that but consented, introducing the girl as her cousin, Miss Gardiner, and encouraging her, by example, to curtsey.

While they were thus engaged, Darcy’s friend Tomlinson passed behind them, silently tipping his hat as he went up the steps to White’s.

Darcy nodded back, and as he did so, spotted a man loitering a few feet away, looking in his direction.

Catching Darcy’s eye, the man gestured that he was with Elizabeth and her cousin.

A servant, then. Darcy was pleased to see that etiquette observed in town which Elizabeth had not concerned herself with in the country.

He supposed that must be her uncle’s doing, proving the man was more diligent than her father, if a more objectionable connexion.

“What brings you to this part of town today?” he asked.

“We were shopping for ribbons on Bond Street,” Elizabeth answered, “but now we are passing the time until my uncle has finished his business and is ready to take us home.”

“I hope you found something you liked,” Darcy said to her cousin.

The girl stuck out her bottom lip and shook her head but said nothing.

“I apologise,” Elizabeth said. “She is a little shy.”

“Think nothing of it. At that age, my sister could barely meet a person’s eye unless she was intimately acquainted with them.”

“Miss Darcy is shy?”

“You seem surprised.”

“Pardon me, I meant no offence. I suppose I had formed an opinion of her based on the only friends of hers that I know, and none of them are shy.”

Darcy could not deny that was true—particularly of Miss Bingley. Recalling with displeasure their other mutual acquaintance, he had to agree that Wickham could not be described as reticent either, but he sincerely hoped Elizabeth was not including him in her list of Georgiana’s friends.

“I do not think Mr Bingley saw either of us,” Elizabeth said, apropos of nothing.

“Bingley?” He looked about in confusion. “Was he here?”

“Yes, he was walking in this direction just a moment ago but turned off down…” She pointed at the road between White’s and Boodle’s.

“Jermyn Street,” Darcy supplied, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice. There was no way of knowing for certain, but he thought it highly unlikely that Bingley had not seen one or both of them; the street was hardly busy.

“It is a shame,” Elizabeth continued. “Had I been able to speak to him, I might have made him aware that my sister is in town, for I do not think he knows. Unless you or his sisters have informed him?”

Darcy hesitated, belatedly recalling his words to Miss Bennet.

It had not occurred to him, when he gave the warning, how it might appear to Elizabeth.

Knowing her as he did, he could well imagine her indignation at hearing him speak against the match.

He regretted having given her any pain, but she would unquestionably have agreed if she knew the reason.

To explain it to her was impossible, however.

Elizabeth would simply have to dislike his caution.

Indeed, dislike it she evidently did, for here she was, disregarding it entirely and still entertaining the notion that to reintroduce her sister to Bingley’s notice was a good idea.

“I have not seen him since we left Netherfield.”

“Afternoon, Darcy!” called another of his acquaintances, passing by on his way into White’s.

“Patterson,” he replied with a nod.

Patterson paused briefly to look at Elizabeth, then disappeared inside.

“How very suddenly you all left there in November!” Elizabeth said, as though they had not been interrupted.

“Yes. I cannot speak for anyone else in the party, but I was impatient to see my sister.”

“By Miss Bingley’s account, so was Mr Bingley, but I understand no such plans materialised. I hope Miss Darcy was not disappointed.”

“Not at all. Bingley has many friends, and he is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing. His old ones must not monopolise his time.”

“No, but it would be unfortunate if he forgot them all completely. I should be sorry to lose his friendship so soon.”

“If you were unfortunate enough to lose it, it would not be because of anything you had done.”

“I hope it would not be because of anything anyone else had done,” she replied in a flash.

Darcy regarded her steadily. Evidently, she suspected something was amiss. No surprises there, for she was as perceptive as anyone he knew. Still, he sincerely doubted her suspicions tended towards her mother. After his warning to her sister, she probably meant to accuse him.

“It would not be,” he assured her.

She looked taken aback. “Then…will you promise to tell him Jane is in town, if you should see him?”

“Very well,” he said and meant it. He would tell Bingley that Miss Bennet was here—and warn him to stay the devil away from her.

Elizabeth thanked him, but with such a look of distrust in her eyes as made him anxious to be of use in some other, more convincing, way.

“And might I recommend Arneaux’s shoe repair shop on Stafford Street,” he said.

“I understand it is a jealously guarded secret, but I am reliably informed that his wife stocks a vast array of silks and ribbons. She is a favourite of my sister’s.

” To Miss Gardiner, he said, “She might have something more to your taste.”

The young girl’s eyes widened with pleasure, and she tugged on her cousin’s hand in supplication. Darcy had hoped that Elizabeth would be similarly delighted, but instead she looked intrigued and vaguely diverted—and it turned out he liked that better.

“This is valuable information indeed, Mr Darcy! Thank you. We shall go there directly.” She curtseyed and led her cousin away.

Darcy watched her go, reminded of the certain something in her manner of walking that had always captivated him.

He quickly averted his gaze when someone nearby cleared their throat, making him aware that he had been caught admiring Elizabeth’s figure by her uncle’s man.

He gave him a sharp nod and strode into his club, all interest in chasing after Bingley dissipated.

“You took your time, Darcy. We thought you were never coming in,” Kilmarnock called from his table in the front window. “Who was that fine young lady, keeping you tethered in the street?”

“Nobody.” Darcy felt a twinge of guilt, but he would prefer to avoid the derision that would inevitably follow were he to admit to any acquaintance with a family as inconsequential as the Bennets.

“Dashed attractive nobody,” Reeves replied, grinning lasciviously.

Darcy gave them no response and went to find a less conspicuous table. He found Tomlinson alone in the back corner of the lounge and asked whether he might join him.

“By all means,” his friend replied, adding with a shrewd look, “Not often you are seen giving condescension to pretty ladies.”

Tomlinson would not have said that had he seen him at Lord Bannock’s party two nights ago, where he danced with both of the man’s sisters and was seated next to his cousin for the duration of supper.

The company had seemed perfectly gratifying at the time, but the whole evening was rendered vapid in comparison to the five minutes he had just spent being upbraided by Elizabeth.

“It will be the last time it happens,” he replied—and it was true, of Elizabeth at least, for it was very unlikely that he should ever see her again. He signalled for someone to bring him a drink, sank into an armchair, and tried to convince himself that was for the best.