Page 62 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived

Wednesday, December 11, 1811—22 Days after Tuesday

Darcy shifted yet again in the cushioned squabs of his travelling carriage. He had only been on the road for an hour, but right now it felt as though it had been days. While in London, he had spent a good deal of time with Georgiana, trying to assure her of his love and support, had completed various tasks of estate management, had gotten settlement papers drawn up, had collected all of Wickham’s debts and spoken to his uncle and various others in preparation for dealing with Wickham, and had attended three soirees, two dinners, and the theatre twice with his aunt and uncle.

All the events would have been better if Elizabeth had been with him. Even if she failed to charm the most curmudgeonly sticklers of the ton, she would have provided him with an excellent conversation partner and amusing observations. Not to mention that she made any day better simply with her presence.

He had managed without her, though. In fact, they had been the most enjoyable events he had experienced in London since before his father had died. Though he did not know many of the people there well enough to consider them friends, he had utilised his new skill at small talk and had discovered two gentlemen, whom he had previously only recognised on sight, who were very like-minded. He had even called on them to inform them of his trip and to wish they might have further opportunities to converse. He had also managed several dances with tolerable equanimity.

The vultures still circled, but now Darcy had hope that he might be free from them before long. Aunt Margaret had required he dance with several of her favourites, apparently hoping to ignite some spark and halt his return to Hertfordshire. But, though Darcy had congenial conversations with a few of the young ladies, no one could compare to Elizabeth.

For the first time, he pitied some of the girls who were just as much driven into dancing with him as he had been driven into dancing with them. Expectant mamas and other assorted female relations were all pressing for them to catch someone, preferably someone as wealthy and well-connected as he was. With understanding came compassion, and he found it easier than ever before to be polite and even to smile a few times.

Last night, when he had taken his leave of his aunt and uncle, both had commented on how very surprised they were by his changed demeanour. Aunt Margaret had even, grudgingly, admitted that if his Miss Elizabeth could work such wonders on as unwilling a subject as he was, she might, perhaps, be of use in helping Georgiana navigate society. Lord Matlock had simply clapped him on the back and said that he trusted Darcy would make the right decision, that he was proud of the man Darcy was becoming, and that he was glad to see him less weighed down.

Now, after what felt like years, he could return to Elizabeth, his conscience clear. He had spent time with his family and time in society; neither had swayed him from his intention to marry her. In fact, his foray into society had only solidified his new viewpoint—he had changed too much to go back to the way things had been. Hopefully, she would consider this a sufficient sampling of the normal rhythms of his life.

Darcy had written to Bingley of his arrival, and he wished that he might have written to Elizabeth. Had she changed her mind? She was so worried that he would change his, but was that a genuine concern, or did it mask something else?

Darcy shifted again, wishing this blasted interminable ride would be over and he could see his beloved. It would not take more than a moment to ascertain whether the light of love remained in her eyes or not.

Bingley was waiting on the steps the moment Darcy’s carriage arrived at Netherfield.

“Darcy!” he greeted, rushing down the steps before Darcy had even reached solid ground and giving Darcy a hearty handshake.

Darcy smiled. “It is good to see you, Bingley,” he said fervently.

“Come in out of this cold,” Bingley urged, pulling on Darcy’s coat sleeve for a brief moment before hurrying ahead and ordering hot drinks be brought to Darcy’s room. “Unless, of course, you wish to sit in the study together instead of going to the Bennets.”

“Going to the Bennets?” Darcy repeated blankly.

“You will want to freshen up first, but I have been visiting the Bennets most afternoons and have dined with them several times.” Bingley shifted uneasily. “It is a bit forward, but I have been trying to ascertain Miss Bennet’s true feelings. Mrs. Bennet would be pleased to include you in the family party. She told me so herself when I said you were likely to arrive this week. I thought perhaps you would like to accompany me today.” He smiled widely. “Miss Elizabeth will be there.”

Darcy hesitated only the barest moment, weighing the benefits of surprising Elizabeth in her own home (and having an audience to their reunion) against hearing the latest news from Bingley.

Seeing Elizabeth won.

“I would very much like to accompany you to the Bennets,” he said. “When do you intend to leave?”

“As soon as you are ready,” Bingley replied. “But do not feel the need to rush—I doubt it will take you as long as it would me.”

Darcy nodded and bounded up the stairs to his room. There would be time to discuss the happenings of the neighbourhood later. Elizabeth awaited.

“Mr. Bingley is come!” Lydia called from her station by the window. “And it looks like he has someone with him! I think it might be that Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth’s needle slipped and she stabbed her finger. Mr. Darcy was back? It had been an age since he had gone. Mr. Bingley had informed her that Mr. Darcy intended to come back on Tuesday, but then the weather had been terrible and the roads had been a soggy bog. Even today, the sky was overcast. Really, she could not believe he had ventured to Hertfordshire already, though she would certainly not complain about seeing her beloved.

“I wish he would hurry up and propose to Jane,” Kitty muttered fretfully. “Then we would not have to stay at home all the time in case he calls; we all know he is only calling to see Jane.”

“ You just wish that someone would take the time to call upon you,” Lydia jabbed.

Elizabeth composed her features and resolved not to make a scene in front of her family, despite the urge to run into Mr. Darcy’s arms and have him catch her up, much the way he had on Wednesday.

She could not, however, stop the wide smile that insisted on appearing the moment their glances met, nor the tears that pricked her eyes. It had been far too long! What did it matter that it was only sixteen days? Two weeks could be an eternity to the heart!

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Bingley said as he entered the drawing room and bowed. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Kitty, and Miss Lydia.”

Mr. Darcy echoed his friend’s greetings.

The ladies curtsied in reply.

Mr. Bingley clapped Mr. Darcy on the shoulder. “I found this half-frozen gentleman on my front porch earlier today and he insisted on accompanying me to call.”

“Oh, why, any friend of yours is more than welcome, Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet said after a moment’s confusion. “I do hope you both will stay for dinner. It is but a small family dinner and not at all what you are accustomed to, I imagine,” she said to Mr. Darcy, the warmth in her voice nearly gone as she returned to her seat on the settee.

Mr. Darcy smiled. “I would be most glad to be considered one of the family, Mrs. Bennet. Your neighbours have told me of your legendary family dinners, and I have long wished to attend one.”

Elizabeth swallowed a chuckle. That was true. Once they had begun trying to speak to her parents, Mr. Darcy had angled for a dinner invitation several times without success. Her mother had remained steadfast that she would not issue Mr. Bingley an invitation to stay for anything less than a four-course meal.

Mr. Darcy glanced over at Elizabeth longingly but seated himself in the chair next to her mother. “Bingley has not had the chance to tell me the neighbourhood’s news, but I am certain you know far more than he does. What has changed in the past two weeks?”

Elizabeth stared in astonishment as her mother softened, Mrs. Bennet’s cheeks staining red. The care Mr. Darcy had taken to understand her mother over the past months was evident.

“Oh, Mr. Darcy, well, yes. I would not at all cast doubt upon Mr. Bingley’s information, but I am unusually well-informed on the goings-on in the neighbourhood.” She giggled. “Between my sister and I, there is little we do not know.”

He nodded. “I imagine her husband’s business gives her great insight into the local happenings.”

“Oh, yes.”

As her mother expounded upon the smaller bits of news, gradually growing more comfortable with Mr. Darcy, Jane and Mr. Bingley retreated to the far corner of the room and began their own conversation.

“But, Mr. Darcy, the most significant thing that has occurred in your absence is that Miss Lucas has become engaged to Mr. Collins,” Mrs. Bennet said in a rush, hands fluttering in her lap. “In fact, we shall be forced to house that idiot again next week while he visits dear Charlotte.”

“I hope Miss Lucas will be very happy with him,” Mr. Darcy said.

Mrs. Bennet shook her head. “I do not know how anybody can be happy inheriting an entail. An entail! I should be ashamed to gain my inheritance in such a fashion.”

“I can see why you would be greatly concerned with entails in general and with the entail on Longbourn in particular,” Mr. Darcy said gently.

Mrs. Bennet nodded vigorously. “I have long told Mr. Bennet that he ought to do something about it! If only I were a man, then I should do something myself. But I am not, and the only other person who could have rectified the matter refused,” she said, glaring at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth focused on her needlework, her cheeks burning. At least Mr. Darcy would not fault her for refusing Mr. Collins and he had known of her mother’s wretched behaviour before he had proposed. Still, she would rather not discuss her refusal yet again. “Charlotte is quite pleased to be obtaining a home at Hunsford,” Elizabeth put in, eyes still on her embroidery.

“Ouch!” Lydia shrieked, popping a finger in her mouth and glaring at Elizabeth.

Mrs. Bennet blinked over at her. “Be careful with your needle, my love.” She turned back to Mr. Darcy. “Charlotte Lucas is more than pleased to be obtaining this home ! All those years I gave her free roam of our estate and this is how she repays me!”

Mr. Darcy leaned forward. “I doubt Miss Lucas was trying to hurt you,” he said soothingly. “I have observed her, and she seems to hold your family dear in her heart.”

“It is all Lizzy’s fault,” Lydia said, her finger miraculously better. “She refused Mr. Collins and now she will die an old maid.” She laughed. “But really, can you see Lizzy married to Mr. Collins?” She laughed again.

The burning in Elizabeth’s cheeks spread down her neck.

“I see,” Mr. Darcy said, flashing Elizabeth a sympathetic look. “I imagine that has only increased your anxiety about the entail, Mrs. Bennet.”

Mrs. Bennet fanned herself. “Oh, my nerves have not ceased their fluttering since the moment Lizzy behaved so foolishly. I have never met such a selfish girl in all my life! She knows the perils of our situation, and she managed to alienate the one person who may save us! I do not know where we shall live—the hedgerows, probably.”

Mr. Darcy leaned forward and put a gentle hand on her arm. “Mrs. Bennet, I can see that you are very afraid of what may become of you and your daughters after your husband’s death. However, I believe your daughters are destined for more than to be the wife of a man who memorises his compliments.”

Mrs. Bennet gaped at him.

Mr. Darcy pulled his hand back at once.

She leaned forward. “You do?”

He nodded. “I do not know what life will hold for them, but I believe, with the right skills and education, your daughters will go far. Have you thought about finishing school?”

Mrs. Bennet shook her head. “It is far too expensive to send all five of them to finishing school at once.”

“Well, perhaps you might consider sending one or two of the younger girls,” Mr. Darcy said. “It is an excellent way to develop connections, and they have time before they are of marriageable age anyway.”

Lydia scowled at him.

Elizabeth’s smile grew as Mr. Darcy carefully followed the well-trodden path to planting the seed that finishing school was a worthy investment in ensuring that the Bennet girls would marry well. He was so kind: listening to her mother’s fears, entering into her mother’s worries as though he were her own son, and suggesting a well-considered solution.

He finished by appealing to Mr. Bingley, who chimed in with an agreement.

“Of course, Miss Bennet does not need to be finished at all, as lovely as she is,” Mr. Bingley added, smiling down at Jane.

Jane blushed prettily. “Thank you, Mr. Bingley. I am glad you think so.”

“Yes, my Jane has always been beautiful,” Mrs. Bennet said enthusiastically.

Mr. Darcy inclined his head. “You have certainly been blessed with beautiful and talented daughters.” He turned to Mary. “How has your pianoforte practice been, Miss Mary?”

Darcy covertly studied Elizabeth throughout the evening, trying to decipher how she was doing. The love that shone from her eyes had alleviated his worries that someone as wonderful as she might have changed her mind about someone like him, but she seemed a bit wan, a bit quieter than usual. Clearly, Mrs. Bennet was wroth with Elizabeth for turning down Mr. Collins. Also, Miss Lydia had made several little cutting remarks and interrupted her sister at every turn. What had caused that tension?

Well, tomorrow morning, they would be able to speak freely. In the meantime, he could at least try to convince her mother that turning Mr. Collins down was a wise thing to do, even if they would lose Longbourn.