Page 24
Story: Mr. Darcy’s Runaway Bride
They watched as Bingley pointed out something in the distance, Jane’s graceful profile turned towards him with interest. Something in the tableau—the sunlight filtering through the trees, the gentle curve of Jane’s smile, the attentive angle of Bingley’s head—suggested a harmony between them that transcended mere polite conversation.
“I believe they may suit remarkably well,” Elizabeth said.
“Indeed,” Darcy agreed. “It would be a fortunate circumstance for all concerned if such a connection were to form.”
Miss Bingley, who had been walking a few paces behind, now joined them with a determined smile.
“I see my brother is performing his duties as host with characteristic enthusiasm,” she observed.
“He has always had a particular talent for making our guests feel welcome, though I fear his attentions to Miss Bennet may have exceeded what is strictly necessary.”
“Your brother’s manners do him credit,” Darcy replied. “Sincerity is a virtue too often sacrificed on the altar of fashion.”
Miss Bingley’s smile tightened, but she quickly recovered. She soon steered the conversation to questions about how Elizabeth was managing Pemberley—clearly hoping to highlight her inexperience—but Darcy’s firm praise of his wife’s capabilities left little room for further insinuations.
“Mrs Darcy has proven a most capable mistress,” Darcy interjected, his tone brooking no contradiction. “The household has flourished under her direction.”
Miss Bingley’s smile grew strained. “How fortunate for you both. I have always said that Pemberley requires a mistress of particular… background to maintain its standards.”
Before Elizabeth could respond to this thinly veiled slight, Bingley and Jane rejoined them. “The sun grows rather warm,” Bingley observed. “Perhaps we should return to the house for tea?”
They made their way back towards Netherfield, with Bingley and Jane in the lead, followed by Darcy and Elizabeth, with Miss Bingley reluctantly bringing up the rear.
“Your sister seems well,” Darcy said quietly as they walked. “Though perhaps a touch fatigued.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “I hope to speak with her privately before she leaves. There is something in her manner that suggests all is not entirely as it should be at Longbourn.”
Tea was served in the drawing room, where conversation turned to the upcoming London Season.
Miss Bingley spoke at length of various entertainments she anticipated, directing her remarks primarily to Darcy while making occasional references to “those fortunate enough to move in the highest circles.”
“You must find country society rather limited after London, Mrs Darcy,” she said during a pause in the general conversation. “Though I suppose Derbyshire offers more varied acquaintance than Hertfordshire.”
“I have found pleasant society wherever I have lived,” Elizabeth replied. “Though I confess a particular fondness for the country, where one may come to know one’s neighbours as individuals rather than mere social connections.”
“A charitable view,” Miss Bingley said with a thin smile. “Though I imagine certain acquaintances might be better forgotten than cultivated. I understand Meryton was recently graced with the presence of the militia? Such dashing officers must have enlivened local assemblies considerably.”
There was something pointed in her tone that made Elizabeth glance sharply at her. Could Miss Bingley know of Wickham’s presence in Meryton? And if so, how much did she know of Elizabeth’s acquaintance with him?
“The militia did winter in Meryton,” Jane confirmed, her gentle voice betraying no awareness of any undercurrent. “Though they have since been relocated to Brighton.”
“A pity,” Miss Bingley said, her gaze fixed on Elizabeth. “I understand certain officers made quite an impression on the local young ladies.”
“I believe we have exhausted this topic,” Darcy said. “Bingley, you mentioned new plantings along the south border? I should be interested to see them before dinner.”
“Of course,” Bingley agreed, rising with relief at the change of subject. “The landscaper has made considerable progress since your last visit. Ladies, will you excuse us?”
After the gentlemen departed, Miss Bingley turned her attention to a piece of embroidery, leaving Jane and Elizabeth to converse quietly on the sofa near the window.
“You must tell me of Pemberley,” Jane said, taking Elizabeth’s hand. “Your letters have been informative, but I long to hear more of your life there.”
Elizabeth described the great house, its grounds, and the daily routine she had established.
She spoke of her riding lessons, her writing, and the evenings spent in the library with Darcy.
Throughout, she was conscious of Miss Bingley’s attention, though the lady appeared absorbed in her needlework.
“And Mr Darcy?” Jane asked. “Is he… is he kind to you, Lizzy?”
“The kindest of men,” Elizabeth replied with perfect sincerity. “I have found in him a true partner and friend.”
Jane searched her face, then nodded, apparently satisfied with what she saw there. “I am glad,” she said simply. “I feared you might have exchanged one unhappy situation for another. But I see now that is not the case.”
“No,” Elizabeth agreed. “It is not the case at all. Now, pray, how is everything at Longbourn? How is Mother?” Elizabeth asked, lowering her voice further.
“Shall we take a turn about the room?” Jane asked, eyes turned to Caroline Bingley.
Elizabeth rose at once and they walked in a turn around the room. Only when they were far enough from prying eyes and eager ears did Jane resume.
“Better, now that Mr Bingley has taken up residence at Netherfield,” Jane admitted with a faint blush. “She has transferred her matrimonial hopes from you to me, I’m afraid.”
“Poor Jane,” Elizabeth said. “Though Mr Bingley seems a far more agreeable prospect than Jonathan Blackfriars ever was.”
“Mr Bingley is everything kind and good,” Jane agreed, her eyes softening. “But Mama’s expectations place a tremendous burden on our acquaintance. I fear she may drive him away with her enthusiasm.”
“I doubt Mr Bingley is so easily discouraged,” Elizabeth said. “He appears most particularly attached to you.”
Jane’s blush deepened, but before she could respond, a footman entered with a letter on a silver tray.
“For Mrs Darcy,” he announced, crossing to present it to Elizabeth.
She recognised her father’s hand immediately. Breaking the seal, she scanned the brief message:
My dear Lizzy (and Mr Darcy),
I understand from Bingley that you have arrived safely at Netherfield.
Your mother has been in a state of considerable agitation since receiving word of your imminent visit.
I believe it would be best if you called at Longbourn tomorrow morning when she has had opportunity to compose herself.
Eleven o’clock would be most convenient, if that suits your plans.
Your father, T. Bennet
Elizabeth folded the letter, anticipation and apprehension settling in her stomach. “My father requests our presence at Longbourn tomorrow morning,” she said to Jane.
“Mother has spoken of little else since learning of your visit,” Jane acknowledged.
Elizabeth sighed and looked towards the window, her fingers tightening slightly around the letter. “I dread the possibility she may say something… unfortunate. Mamma has never been one for discretion, particularly where money is concerned.”
Jane’s brow furrowed gently. “Lizzy, surely she would not speak so to Mr Darcy—not directly.”
“She may not intend to,” Elizabeth replied, her voice low, “but you know how quickly she can be swept away. I fear she might hint at our situation, or worse—ask something of him. Mr Darcy would never show his displeasure, but I should be mortified.”
Jane gave her sister’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I do not think she would be so bold. Our uncles’ assistance has brought us a measure of stability—more than she truly understands. There is no cause for alarm just now.”
“Perhaps not,” Elizabeth allowed. “But the entailment remains, hanging over us like a cloud, and Mamma’s imagination often outruns sense.”
Jane was silent for a moment, then said with quiet conviction, “But that is not your responsibility, Lizzy. Nor his. Mr Darcy married you , not our family’s prospects. And he is too discerning to be taken by surprise.”
Elizabeth gave a small, rueful smile. “Indeed. He sees more than he says. Still, I believe it would be best if I went to Longbourn on my own tomorrow. I might soften the way for Mama, or at the very least, give her time to compose herself.”
Jane nodded, clearly in agreement. “Yes, that may be wise. She will be overwhelmed enough simply to see you again—let alone as Mrs Darcy.”
“I shall go early,” Elizabeth said. “Darcy can follow later in the day, once the initial flurry has passed.”
“You are sensible,” Jane said warmly. “And brave. I do not know how you manage her as you do.”
Elizabeth laughed quietly. “Only because she never expects me to behave sensibly. It is our greatest advantage—I may yet surprise her.”
The sisters shared a smile, the only sounds were the soft crackle of the fire and the rhythmic whisper of Miss Bingley’s needle drawing thread through linen.
They passed a window and Elizabeth looked out in the direction of Longbourn, thoughts travelling to her journey there tomorrow. She and Darcy had agreed to go together, but he would understand her desire to go alone, of that she was sure.
Table of Contents
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- Page 23
- Page 24 (Reading here)
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- Page 37