Page 23

CHAPTER 23

Visiting Longbourn

W hile Miss Bingley wandered about the shops of Meryton, the rest of the Netherfield party—except for Mr. Hurst—paid a call at Longbourn, entirely unaware that she had even left the manor.

When a servant informed them that Miss Bingley would not be joining the visit, it was assumed she had simply chosen to remain in her room.

No one questioned the message nor suspected that she had discreetly paid the maid to report her as indisposed, disguising her absence from the house.

Once the introductions were performed, the older ladies—Mrs. Bennet, Lady Matlock, Mrs. Hurst, and Miss Horatia Bingley—settled into one corner of the drawing room.

Darcy and Bingley each made their way to the lady who increasingly occupied their thoughts.

Georgiana quickly took a seat between Mary and Catherine, content to engage in their quiet conversation under the watchful eyes of Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Annesley.

Colonel Fitzwilliam positioned himself within earshot of his cousins, his demeanour casual though his eyes missed little.

From his central vantage point, he could observe the entire room with ease .

He watched as Darcy leant a little closer to Miss Elizabeth, his eyes bright with interest and his expression unusually unguarded.

“I confess, I was surprised to find Maria Edgeworth so well represented at the village bookseller,” Darcy was saying, recalling his recent visit.

“One does not often encounter such a collection outside London. Once again, Meryton has exceeded my expectations.”

There was a note of genuine admiration in his voice, and Elizabeth, catching the implication beneath his words, felt a warm flush rise to her cheeks.

Elizabeth smiled. “My father insisted Mr. Thompson stock her entire catalogue—he claims she is far more instructive than most sermonizers. And when he tires of her morals, he moves on to her footnotes.”

“A thorough reader, then,” Darcy teased, knowing how much Bennet still enjoyed his books, although perhaps not so much as he once did.

“Insufferably so,” she replied, her eyes dancing with merriment.

“He once read Belinda twice in a fortnight to determine whether the ending truly suited the rest of the novel. I am still not sure he is satisfied. He has also read the newer edition and was quite displeased with the changes.”

Darcy laughed—quietly, but genuinely.

It surprised even him.

“You find that amusing, Mr. Darcy?”

He glanced at her, the corners of his mouth still lifted.

“I do. I did not expect to find such amusement in a discussion of Belinda .”

“Then clearly, sir,” she said, mockingly prim, “you underestimate both Edgeworth and the Bennets.”

He looked at her for a moment longer than was strictly proper, and then said, more softly, “It would seem I have.”

Darcy gave another soft laugh, and Fitzwilliam noted the rare sound with some amusement.

Miss Elizabeth seemed pleased by it, as well; she tilted her head slightly, her eyes alight.

So , he thought wryly, the great Fitzwilliam Darcy does know how to flirt with a young lady—though I doubt he realises he is doing it.

He turned his attention towards his mother just in time to catch her watching the pair.

Her fan moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, her expression polite and unmoved—but her eyes were sharp and unblinking as she observed the ease between her nephew and the country gentleman’s daughter.

“I daresay,” she said with gracious detachment, turning back to Mrs. Bennet, “you must find it quite lively here with so many daughters at home.”

“Oh, indeed, Lady Matlock,” Mrs. Bennet said brightly.

“There is never a dull moment—not with four girls under one roof! We quite miss our Lydia, but we hope to have her home before too much longer.”

Lady Matlock offered a serene smile.

“Yes. Quite so.”

Fitzwilliam, watching her, knew better than to assume that calm reply indicated approval.

His mother rarely voiced her opinion before it was fully formed—and when she did, her words carried weight.

Iron beneath velvet, as always.

After a moment, Lady Matlock caught her son’s gaze across the room.

She held it briefly, then rose with an unhurried elegance and made her way towards Darcy and Elizabeth, joining them in an empty seat next to the settee the couple were settled on.

“Fitzwilliam,” she said smoothly, “you are far too engrossed in this conversation to spare a word for your poor aunt.”

Darcy turned towards her and smiled.

“Forgive me for my inattention, Aunt. We were discussing Miss Edgeworth’s novels—Miss Bennet’s father is an enthusiastic reader. You know how easily I become lost in a conversation of books.”

Lady Matlock’s eyes flicked briefly to Elizabeth.

“Indeed? How very modern of him.” She turned to Elizabeth with a polite smile.

“Do you share your father’s literary inclinations, Miss Elizabeth, or merely endure them? Are you able to keep up with my nephew on this subject?”

Elizabeth met the older woman’s gaze with composed assurance.

“I do enjoy reading, although I take pleasure in many pursuits. My parents ensured I received the education expected of a young woman of my station. I am moderately accomplished in literature, languages, music, and the usual refinements. At the very least,” she added with a light laugh, “I know enough to be a tolerable companion for anyone brave enough to speak of books in mixed company.”

The remark drew a quiet laugh from Darcy which did not escape his aunt’s notice.

Lady Matlock offered a cool, measured smile.

“How fortunate for my nephew, then, that you are so…multifaceted.”

“I am always pleased to find someone who can engage in good conversation,” Elizabeth replied lightly.

“And gentlemen who are not intimidated by a heroine who thinks for herself.”

Lady Matlock tilted her head ever so slightly, her brows lifting at the thinly veiled challenge.

“A rare breed, indeed.”

A pause followed—brief, but deliberate.

“I hope, Miss Elizabeth,” she continued, her tone smooth, “that we might speak again while I am in the neighbourhood, perhaps more privately. I should like to hear more of these accomplishments you claim. One morning, you should call on me at Netherfield for tea; I think our hostess would not be offended if the two of us hid ourselves away for an hour. ”

Elizabeth smiled graciously.

“Of course, Lady Matlock. I should be honoured. Simply name the time and day, and I will be certain to call.”

“Excellent,” the countess replied, her fan pausing mid-motion for the briefest instant.

“I look forward to knowing you better, my dear.” She patted Elizabeth’s hand briefly before moving back to her seat with the other matrons.

“I think she was pleased with you,” Darcy whispered into her ear.

Turning to her companion with a raised brow, Elizabeth took a moment to look at Darcy.

“She means well,” Darcy said before Elizabeth could speak.

Elizabeth chuckled. “I feel as though I was just examined, but I am uncertain what mark I may have received.”

“My aunt and my mother were close friends during my mother’s lifetime,” Darcy said quietly.

“Since my mother’s passing, my aunt has, at times, tried to fill that role for my sister and me. The letters I wrote to Georgiana introducing you and your sisters…they were quite unlike me. And—” He stopped, uncertain how much to admit.

He cleared his throat, his gaze dropping.

For a moment, an unusual silence hovered between them.

Then, as though unaware of the others nearby, Elizabeth gently laid her hand atop his where it rested between them on the cushion.

He looked up, startled at first, then softened.

A faint smile touched his lips.

“I believe I ought to speak with your father,” he said after a moment.

“And, if he permits, request a private audience with you. There’s something I must discuss—but I feel it is only right to confirm a few matters with him first.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open slightly.

“What? ”

Darcy blinked at her, then realised what she had assumed.

Colour rose to his cheeks.

“No—no, forgive me,” he said quickly, with a touch of remorse.

“It is not…that, not yet. There are—some business matters I must speak with him about, and certain concerns you ought to be made aware of regarding my uncle.”

Elizabeth’s colour deepened, but she did not withdraw her hand from where it rested upon his, now hidden beneath the folds of her skirt.

“I see,” she said slowly, though her voice betrayed some confusion.

“You startled me, Mr. Darcy. I assumed something quite different from your words. Forgive me—for presuming.”

Her voice was quiet, uncertain, and Darcy found himself wishing he could remove the cloud of doubt from her eyes.

A flicker of frustration crossed his face.

“Yes,” he said softly.

“I am discovering that I am not always as clear as I imagine myself to be. There are…certain matters that you have not yet been made aware. It is…they are important, and I need to ask your father for some guidance.”

“Then I will follow your lead,” she replied, her tone was light and still a little uncertain—or perhaps hurt, Darcy thought.

He looked down at where their joined hands still rested under her skirts, then back at her.

“The truth is, there are matters concerning my family—particularly my sister—that I believe you should be aware of. Not because they are scandalous,” he added quickly, “but because they may one day concern you. Or rather…they may come to matter.”

Her brows rose, just slightly.

“That is very nearly a proposal.”

“Only nearly,” he said with a quiet smile.

“You must forgive me. I find I cannot speak to you without meaning more than I say.”

Elizabeth’s heart beat a touch faster, though she tried not to show it.

“And yet, you would not mean too much too soon. ”

“No,” he said, serious once more.

“Not before I have spoken to your father.”

She studied him for a long moment.

“That sounds ominous.”

“It is not,” he said firmly.

“Only necessary.”

A silence fell between them, but it was not uncomfortable.

Elizabeth gently withdrew her hand, but the warmth of the gesture lingered between them.

“I trust you will speak plainly when the time comes,” she said at last.

He inclined his head.

“That is my intention.”

Just then, laughter rose from the corner of the room where Lady Matlock and Mrs. Bennet were engaged in conversation.

Mrs. Hurst and her aunt were chuckling over something, while Mrs. Bennet leant in with an eager smile, and the countess observed it all with a faint, amused expression.

When Darcy’s eyes flicked briefly in their direction, he caught Lady Matlock turning her gaze towards him as well.

Elizabeth followed the direction of his gaze.

“She is concerned?”

“She is,” he replied, his eyes still fixed ahead.

“And I have no doubt she will make her opinions known.”

“I have never been particularly troubled by the opinions of others,” Elizabeth said calmly.

Darcy turned to her then, a flicker of wonder in his expression.

“No, you are not,” he agreed, a hint of a smile tilting his lips upwards.

“But I do wonder how you will respond to what I must say to you.”

He hesitated, then gave a slight shake of his head.

“Excuse me—I must speak with Mr. Bennet.”

Rising, he offered a brief nod before leaving the room and making his way swiftly to Bennet’s study.