Page 23

Elizabeth

N etherfield Park emerged from the morning mist as the Darcy carriage approached from the south road.

Elizabeth leaned forward, her gaze drawn not to their destination but to the familiar lane branching eastward—the road to Longbourn.

They would pass within a quarter of a mile of her childhood home, yet would not stop.

Her father’s letter had been clear, they were welcome to call at their convenience, but no invitation to stay had been extended, the presumption being they would reside at Netherfield.

As the crossroads approached, Elizabeth’s chest tightened. So near to home, yet unable to turn towards it—the sensation was not unlike the dreams she sometimes had where her legs would not obey her will to move. She pressed her fingers against the carriage window, tempted to call out to the driver.

Darcy’s hand closed over hers, drawing it gently away from the glass. “We shall call tomorrow,” he said.

“I know,” she replied, though her eyes remained fixed on the lane as they passed it. “It is merely strange to be so close and yet…”

“Would you prefer to stop now? I could send word to Bingley that we have been delayed.”

The offer was genuine, but Elizabeth shook her head. “No. I shall send word when we arrive at Netherfield.”

Darcy’s fingers tautened around hers. “Then we shall abide by your preference. But know that when we do call at Longbourn, we shall do so together.”

“Thank you,” she managed, turning back to him. “For understanding.”

They passed the crossroads, the lane to Longbourn disappearing behind them as the carriage continued north. Elizabeth fixed her gaze resolutely ahead. Netherfield Park awaited them, and with it, the beginning of their entry into society as husband and wife.

The carriage wheels crunched on Netherfield’s immaculately raked gravel as they arrived.

Mr Bingley himself stood waiting on the steps.

Elizabeth, though she had never met him, recognised him at once from Darcy’s descriptions.

Beside him, a tall, elegant young woman maintained a posture of practised grace, her fashionable gown and perfectly arranged curls suggesting considerable effort had been expended on her appearance.

“Darcy!” Bingley exclaimed the moment the carriage door opened. “What excellent time you have made! We did not expect you until afternoon.”

“The roads were unexpectedly good,” Darcy replied, descending before assisting Elizabeth. “Bingley, may I present my wife, Mrs Darcy? Elizabeth, Charles Bingley.”

Bingley’s lips curled upwards appreciatively as he bowed. “Mrs Darcy! A pleasure indeed. Your sister has spoken of you with such warmth that I feel we are already acquainted.”

“You are most kind, Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth replied, taking an immediate liking to her husband’s friend. His manner was perfectly open, his smile genuine in a way that required no artifice. “My sister’s letters have been similarly complimentary of you.”

A flush of pleasure coloured Bingley’s cheeks. “Has she? I am gratified to hear it. But come, you must be weary from your journey. Allow me to present my sister, Miss Bingley.”

The elegant young woman stepped forward, offering the barest curtsy. “Mrs Darcy,” she said, her cool gaze making a swift assessment. “How fortunate you are to have captured Mr Darcy’s regard so… expeditiously. We had no notion he was contemplating matrimony when last we met.”

“It was rather a whirlwind courtship,” Elizabeth acknowledged, refusing to be discomposed by the veiled implication. “Though sometimes the heart recognises its match with startling clarity.”

Miss Bingley’s smile remained fixed, though something flickered in her eyes—a hardening, perhaps, or a momentary narrowing. “How romantic,” she said.

“I would say it is,” Darcy replied with a smile that silenced the woman at once.

“Now, I dare say our guests will be hungry, shall we allow them to change and then take luncheon?” Bingley offered.

Miss Bingley’s manner shifted instantly, her attention transferring wholly to Darcy with a warmth that had been conspicuously absent when addressing Elizabeth.

“Of course, Mr Darcy. I have had the blue parlour prepared, knowing it is a favourite of yours. The view of the park is particularly fine today.”

They were shown to handsome chambers on the first floor, where Elizabeth’s trunks had already been brought up.

Sarah, the lady’s maid assigned to her at Pemberley, was unpacking her gowns with efficient care.

After washing away, the dust of travel and changing into a fresh muslin dress, Elizabeth rejoined the party in the blue parlour, where she found Miss Bingley leaning close to Darcy, ostensibly directing his attention to some feature of the landscape visible through the window.

“Ah, Mrs Darcy,” Bingley said as she entered. “I was just telling your husband that I have taken the liberty of sending word to Longbourn that you have arrived safely. Miss Bennet expressed particular concern for your journey when last we spoke.”

“That is most thoughtful, Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth said, taking a seat on the sofa. “Jane is ever considerate of others’ comfort.”

“Indeed, she is,” Bingley agreed, his expression softening at the mention of Jane’s name. “In fact, she has promised to join us for tea this afternoon, if that would not overtax you after your travels.”

Elizabeth beamed at the prospect of seeing her sister so soon. “Not at all. I have longed to see Jane these many weeks.”

“Excellent!” Bingley exclaimed. “I shall send the carriage for her directly after luncheon.”

Miss Bingley, who had returned to her seat when Elizabeth entered, raised a delicate eyebrow. “Really, Charles, you are becoming quite the devoted courier for the Bennet family. One might think Longbourn incapable of providing its own transport.”

“Their carriage was undergoing repairs when last I called,” Bingley said, his tone suggesting this was not the first time they had had such an exchange. “Besides, what good is a fine carriage if not to convey one’s friends in comfort?”

“True Christian charity,” Miss Bingley agreed, though her smile did not reach her eyes. “Now, shall we go through to luncheon?”

The meal passed pleasantly enough, with Bingley carrying much of the conversation.

Elizabeth warmed to him further; his amiable nature and genuine interest in others made him an excellent host. He spoke of the local society, of recent improvements to Netherfield, and of his hope that Darcy might join him in some fishing excursions during their stay.

“Though I fear I cannot promise sport equal to Pemberley’s,” he added with a laugh. “The stream here is modest compared to your lakes.”

“Any fishing in good company is preferable to the finest waters alone,” Darcy replied, Elizabeth had not often seen him so at ease with anyone besides herself.

***

When Jane arrived, Elizabeth rushed to meet her in the entrance hall, propriety momentarily forgotten as she embraced her sister with frank affection.

“Oh, Jane,” she whispered, holding her close. “How I have missed you.”

“Lizzy,” Jane replied, her voice tight with emotion. “Let me look at you.”

They drew apart, each studying the other with careful eyes. Jane appeared thinner than Elizabeth remembered, with faint shadows beneath her eyes suggesting recent fatigue or worry. Yet she remained beautiful, her golden hair and serene features as lovely as ever.

“You look well,” Jane said, squeezing Elizabeth’s hands. “Marriage seems to agree with you.”

“And you?” Elizabeth asked, searching her sister’s face. “Your letters have been cheerful, but there is something in your visage that suggests all is not entirely well.”

Jane’s smile faltered slightly. “It has been a difficult time at Longbourn since your departure. But we shall speak of that later, in private. For now, let us rejoin your hosts. Mr Bingley has been most kind in arranging this visit.”

The mention of Bingley brought a subtle blush to Jane’s cheeks, and Elizabeth noted with interest how her sister’s eyes sought him out as they entered the drawing room. The gentleman himself appeared equally affected by Jane’s presence, rising with particular alacrity to greet her.

“Miss Bennet,” he said, his face alight with pleasure. “How good of you to join us. I trust the carriage was comfortable?”

“Perfectly so, Mr Bingley. Your thoughtfulness is much appreciated.”

Miss Bingley observed this exchange with a pinched expression, then turned to Elizabeth. “Mrs Darcy, shall we have tea served here or would you prefer to take advantage of the fine weather and walk in the gardens? The roses are particularly lovely at present.”

“A walk would be delightful,” Elizabeth replied, sensing an opportunity for private conversation with Jane. “Perhaps you might show us your roses?”

This suggestion met with general approval, and soon the party was strolling through Netherfield’s formal gardens.

Miss Bingley promptly engaged Darcy in conversation about his cousin.

Bingley, meanwhile, walked slightly ahead with Jane, leaving Elizabeth to follow at a discreet distance that afforded the pair some privacy while maintaining propriety.

“They appear well matched,” Darcy observed quietly, having extricated himself from Miss Bingley’s attentions to join his wife. “Bingley speaks of your sister constantly in his letters.”

“And Jane of him,” Elizabeth replied. “Though I confess I am surprised their attachment has progressed so rapidly. Jane is usually cautious in bestowing her affections.”

“As is Bingley, despite appearances to the contrary,” Darcy said. “He has been disappointed before, which has made him somewhat wary, though his natural optimism generally prevails.”