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Chapter Thirteen

The letter from Bingley arrived on a particularly fine October morning, just as Darcy was contemplating a ride around the northern boundaries of the estate.

His friend’s handwriting was instantly recognizable, the enthusiastic scrawl so characteristic of Bingley’s eager nature.

Darcy broke the seal with a mixture of anticipation and wariness.

Their last meeting at Pemberley had been cordial enough on the surface, but underlying tensions regarding Jane Bennet had never been fully resolved.

As he unfolded the pages, Darcy found himself hoping that enough time had passed for any lingering resentment to have faded.

The first few lines assured him that this was indeed the case, as Bingley’s natural good humour shone through in every enthusiastic sentence.

“ My dear Darcy ,“ the letter began. “ You will be pleased to know that I have returned to Netherfield at last! The house is much as we left it, though I confess it seems smaller somehow after my time in London. Perhaps it is merely that London expands one’s sense of scale, or perhaps it is that Netherfield lacks the grandeur of Pemberley, which has rather spoiled me for lesser estates! ”

Darcy smiled at this typical Bingley effusiveness before continuing to read.

“ I write to extend a most heartfelt invitation to you, Mrs. Darcy, and of course Miss Darcy if she would care to join you, to stay at Netherfield at your earliest convenience. The autumn countryside is particularly lovely this year, and I find myself eager to share it with dear friends. I have engaged a new cook who is quite the marvel, and the house has been thoroughly aired and prepared for company. Say you will come, Darcy! A visit of at least a fortnight would be most welcome, though naturally I would not presume to dictate the length of your stay .”

The invitation was not unexpected. Bingley had made his intentions to return to Netherfield clear during his brief visit to Pemberley in the summer.

What surprised Darcy was the timing, so soon after his friend’s return to the property.

It suggested an eagerness that could only be attributed to Bingley’s continuing interest in Jane Bennet.

Darcy rose from his desk and moved to the window, considering the invitation as he gazed out over Pemberley’s autumn landscape.

Hertfordshire. It had been nearly a year since he had last set foot in that county, a year in which his entire life had been transformed.

He had arrived at Netherfield then as a reluctant visitor, disdainful of local society and determined to maintain his distance from what he considered inferior connections.

How different his return would be now, with Elizabeth as his wife.

The memory of those early days of their acquaintance brought a rueful smile to his face.

How blind he had been to his own feelings, how stubbornly convinced of his own superiority.

Elizabeth had challenged every assumption, dismantled every prejudice, and in doing so had given him the greatest gift of his life: the chance to become a better man than he had been.

A return to Hertfordshire would be a fitting completion of that circle, he decided.

To walk again in the places where he had first met Elizabeth, but this time with her by his side as his wife rather than as the object of his confused and poorly expressed admiration.

Besides, he owed it to Bingley after his previous interference in his friend’s affairs, to whole-heartedly support his courtship this time.

Decision made, Darcy set aside his riding plans and went in search of Elizabeth.

He found her in the rose garden, the same secluded spot where they had shared their first true declarations of love.

Elizabeth was carefully deadheading the plants with a small pair of garden shears.

The domestic simplicity of the scene touched him deeply.

“You have ruined your gloves, Mrs. Darcy,” he observed, noting the green stains on the pale fabric.

Elizabeth looked up with a smile, entirely unapologetic. “So I have. But the roses will be healthier for it next season, Mrs. Reynolds assures me.”

“I have no doubt,” Darcy replied, holding up Bingley’s letter. “We have received an invitation that may interest you.”

Elizabeth set down her shears and removed her gloves, giving him her full attention. “Indeed? From whom?”

“Bingley has returned to Netherfield and wishes us to visit as soon as convenient. Georgiana is included in the invitation as well.”

A flutter of emotions crossed Elizabeth’s expressive face: pleasure, surprise, and perhaps a hint of uncertainty. “How very kind of Mr. Bingley. When did he return to Hertfordshire?”

“Recently, it seems. His letter suggests he has only just reopened the house.” Darcy handed her the pages, watching as she read Bingley’s effusive invitation.

“He certainly seems eager for company,” Elizabeth observed, returning the letter. “Though I suspect it is not solely our company he seeks.”

“Indeed not,” Darcy agreed, offering his arm to escort her back toward the house. “I imagine we would find him calling at Longbourn with some frequency during our stay.”

Elizabeth accepted his arm, falling into step beside him on the gravel path. “Jane has not mentioned Mr. Bingley in her recent letters, beyond noting his planned return to Netherfield. I cannot discern whether she welcomes his renewed attention or not.”

“Your sister has always been most reserved in expressing her feelings,” Darcy noted carefully.

“Yes, though less so in her letters to me of late. She has become more forthcoming about many subjects.” Elizabeth glanced up at him with a thoughtful expression. “I believe she has changed somewhat in the last year. There is a new independence in her thinking that I find most refreshing.”

They walked in companionable silence for a moment, the autumn sunlight dappling the path before them through half-bare trees.

“Would you like to accept Bingley’s invitation?” Darcy asked finally. “I leave the decision entirely to you. With Lydia safely married, our initial reasoning for not leaving Pemberley until after the New Year is now null and void.”

Elizabeth considered the question seriously. “I should like to see my family, certainly. It has been many months since our wedding, and while letters are a comfort, they are not the same as being in company together.”

“We could divide our time between Netherfield and Longbourn,” Darcy suggested. “Though I imagine your mother would prefer to have you under her roof for the duration of our visit.”

“That would create a certain difficulty with Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley,” Elizabeth pointed out pragmatically. “I’m not sure Longbourn would be large enough for all of us, plus extra servants.”

Darcy had not considered this aspect, but immediately recognised the wisdom of Elizabeth’s observation.

Longbourn was a respectable property, but it lacked the spaciousness of Netherfield or Pemberley.

The addition of Georgiana, her companion, and the necessary servants would indeed create logistical challenges.

“Perhaps we might accept Bingley’s invitation to stay at Netherfield, while spending our days primarily at Longbourn,” he suggested.

“That would allow for family intimacy without overtaxing your mother’s household.

” Another thought occurred to him. “And perhaps Mrs. Annesley will take this opportunity to transfer to Lydia’s household.

It is only another two months or so until the baby will come; travelling to Hertfordshire and then all the way back to York will be very taxing for Mrs. Annesley. ”

Elizabeth nodded, looking pleased with this solution. “That seems most sensible. Georgiana will be well provided with company in any case, between me, all my sisters and, I suppose, Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.”

Darcy laughed a little at Elizabeth’s unenthusiastic tone as she mentioned Bingley’s sisters. Georgiana cared for their company no more than Elizabeth did, though she would never express her opinion or allow the ladies to know it.

“Do you think Georgiana would enjoy such a visit?” Elizabeth asked, as if reading his thoughts.

“I believe she would welcome the opportunity,” Darcy replied after a moment’s consideration. “She has expressed interest in knowing your family better.”

They had reached the terrace now, where a light luncheon awaited them in the small morning room that had become Elizabeth’s preferred dining spot on fine days. The large windows afforded an excellent view of the gardens while providing shelter from the increasingly cool autumn air.

As they took their seats, Darcy found himself contemplating the implications of their visit to Netherfield beyond the simple pleasure of seeing Elizabeth’s family.

Bingley’s renewed interest in Jane Bennet was unmistakable, but Darcy could not help recalling Colonel Fitzwilliam’s evident feelings for the eldest Bennet daughter as well.

The potential for awkwardness, or worse, genuine heartache, troubled him.

Yet was it his place to involve himself in this matter at all?

His previous interference, however well-intentioned, had caused significant pain to both Jane and Bingley.

He had promised himself never to make such a presumption again.

Still, there was the matter of his cousin’s happiness to consider, and the colonel had been instrumental in resolving Lydia’s situation, a service that placed Darcy in his debt.

“You look troubled, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth observed, breaking into his thoughts. “Do you have reservations about the visit?”

Darcy shook his head, setting aside his concerns for the moment. “Not at all. I was merely considering practical arrangements, nothing more.”