Page 10 of The Talented Daughters of Longbourn
Lucas Lodge
Thirty minutes later
Mr. Darcy handed his hat and cane to a servant and was miffed, if not surprised, when Miss Bingley promptly clamped onto his arm.
“I daresay this will be most tedious, Mr. Darcy,” she commented, “but there is no reason to stand here in the foyer where the wind is cold. Shall we?”
Darcy nodded, tightlipped, and followed his friend Bingley, who was strolling in at the front of the group, looking quite sharp in his blue coat, yellow pantaloons, and boots shined to such a gloss that they nearly worked as a mirror.
Sir William moved to intercept him, and they spent a moment in pleasantries, but Bingley’s eyes scanned the crowd.
It did not take him long to locate Jane Bennet, and his grin grew in width and brightness.
Darcy also looked uncomfortably over the array of people as he entered, with Miss Bingley on his arm and Fitzwilliam at his other side. The Hursts came in behind them, bringing up the rear. Sir William snagged Fitzwilliam, drawing him into the conversation with Bingley .
Darcy gently disentangled himself from Miss Bingley, leaving her to the care of her sister and Mr. Hurst. He crossed the room to the table of refreshments, accepting a cup of tea from young Miss Lucas.
His eyes searched in mild desperation before he spotted an unoccupied corner, and he promptly walked to it with a distinct sense of purpose.
The sudden strains of a pianoforte took him by surprise, and he glanced over towards the instrument.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet sat playing and, a moment later, began singing.
It was a simple ditty, but sweet. He found himself drawn slowly but inexorably closer, studying her to the point he almost did not note her companion, who stood turning the pages for her.
Miss Elizabeth was truly beautiful, he decided.
He gazed at her dark eyes, fastened on the sheet music.
His eyes followed a loop of her hair up to the mass of dark curls piled high and artfully on the back of her head.
Her playing was not of the highest caliber he had heard, but it was undeniably charming, and her voice rose clear and true.
The song came to an end and everyone clapped. Miss Elizabeth smiled at the applause and stood up to allow the other girl to take her seat behind the instrument.
“I can guess the subject of your reverie,” a feminine voice announced from beside him, causing Darcy to start slightly. Miss Bingley, of course .
“I should imagine not,” Darcy commented, looking down on his friend’s younger sister.
Miss Bingley lifted a haughty nose and declared, “You are considering how insupportable it would beto pass many evenings in this manner in such society, and indeed, I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and the noise, the nothingness, and yet the self-importance, of all these people! What I would give to hear your strictures on them!”
Darcy quirked his eyebrows in irritation. “Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”
Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his and desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Darcy replied calmly.
Caroline Bingley’s jaw clenched for a moment, and then she said, “You astonish me, Mr. Darcy; how long has Miss Eliza been such a favorite, and when am I to wish you joy?”
“That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy.”
“Oh, I daresay you will be very happy together, even if the lady’s only attribute is her fine eyes .”
“She has a lovely voice as well,” he asserted.
“I suppose she does,” Miss Bingley said reluctantly, “though I suspect Miss Elizabeth is not especially gifted at the instrument; otherwise, why would she play such a simple piece? And while I do not know the lady sitting down now, I expect she is no better.”
The same lady began playing a concerto, and Darcy, who was accustomed to listening to gifted musicians, found himself taking an unconscious step forward.
The girl played with perfect tempo and melody, but she also imparted a flavor, a strength, a controlled power to her playing.
When the concerto ended, there was a round of applause, and Darcy clapped with enthusiasm even as he cast a glance at Miss Bingley, who, looking embarrassed, mumbled an excuse and scurried away.
When he turned back, the fair performer had selected a new piece of music, and started playing a simple Scottish piece which inspired the young gentlemen and militia officers to find partners. Within a few minutes, they began dancing a reel in a corner of the room .
Mr. Darcy approached the pianoforte where Elizabeth was standing next to an unknown woman of some twenty years of age; the two ladies were speaking to one another, but the girl stopped at the sight of Mr. Darcy’s tall form, and hurried off with a soft squeak.
Elizabeth turned an arch look on the gentleman and said, “Mr. Darcy, I hope you are enjoying the evening?”
“I am,” Darcy replied, and he was vaguely surprised to discover he was being truthful. “May I say how much I enjoyed your performance some minutes ago?”
“You may,” she answered, “though I know that compared to my sister Mary, my skills on the instrument are notably lacking.”
Darcy looked over with interest to the lady playing, and now that he knew of the relationship, he could easily trace the resemblance between Miss Elizabeth and her sister. Miss Mary was the plainest of the Bennet daughters, but her chin and nose and dark eyes spoke of her heritage.
“Your presentation was very pleasing,” he said truthfully, “though your sister is extraordinary. My own sister plays very well, but has not yet attained Miss Mary’s mastery. ”
“She is incredible,” Elizabeth agreed fervently, her face and voice devoid of any hint of envy.
“Mary is naturally gifted, but I believe that practice is needed to truly make use of musical gifts. My sister practices very constantly, whereas I admit to having too many interests to devote myself to practice as I should.”
“What do you particularly like to do, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked courteously.
“Oh, I enjoy various things: walking, sketching, reading, and, yes, playing the pianoforte.”
“Are there gardens or parks in the area where you walk?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. I have visited Hyde Park and Green Park while visiting my relations, and they are lovely, but here I merely walk the paths of Longbourn, with occasional forays into neighboring estates; I am thankful that none of their owners are dismayed by my trespassing! There is also a fine hill here, Oakham Mount. I have, on occasion, risen early and watched the sunrise from the top of the mount while the rest of my family is still abed.”
“Surely you do not walk unaccompanied!” Darcy said in astonishment.
Miss Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed at this less than subtle rebuke. “Indeed I do, sir,” she said coolly. “I would not in London, of course, but here in Hertfordshire, we are accustomed to a life of liberty. There is no danger, nor would I wish to drag a reluctant maid or sister on my rambles.”
Darcy blinked and tried to formulate a reply. His own sister, his own female cousins, were never permitted to walk alone, but then they were all highborn ladies with noble connections and wealth.
“Lizzy, someone stepped on my skirt and the hem ripped!” a voice cried out, and Darcy took a step backwards as one of the Bennet girls – the second youngest, he thought – hurried up to her sister, one hand holding up a drooping hem.
“Oh Kitty, how exasperating! Do come along, and I will help you fix it. Mr. Darcy, good evening.”
“Good evening,” he returned with a slight bow.
Abandoned, he found himself drifting around the room for another five minutes before he stepped into a side parlor where Mr. Bingley, Mr. Fitzwilliam, and Miss Bennet were engaged in a spirited discussion about mountains, of all things.
Darcy took a seat nearby and listened as his cousin and the eldest Bennet daughter spoke at some length about topography and the war and the effect of such geography on cities, and they even touched on Hannibal’s elephants.
Bingley spoke up occasionally, but he appeared to be pleased enough to bask in the warmth of Miss Bennet’s lovely light .
Darcy suppressed a groan; the more Bingley saw Miss Bennet, the more enamored he seemed, while Darcy could see no signs of returning affection in the eldest daughter of Longbourn.
He hoped that his friend would not do anything foolish.
Miss Bennet would certainly be a beautiful ornament on any man’s arm, but Bingley wished for true love and affection and respect, and Miss Bennet, while her manners were excellent, would only marry him for money.
He vowed that he would not permit such a thing to happen.
/
On the Road to Netherfield
Several days later
The family carriage was so excellently sprung that Georgiana did not even notice the bumps in the road.
Her mind was consumed with the excitement of seeing her beloved brother and her cousin Richard again so imminently.
She had missed them dearly, despite her joy at being home at Pemberley for the last months .
And invariably it was a joy to be home. Nowhere else ever felt quite so safe as the hallowed old halls where she had grown up.
Dear Mrs. Reynolds, who looked out for her so diligently, the maids and footmen she had known from babyhood, the familiar four-poster bed and elegantly appointed music room – they all made Pemberley a haven.
But she was ready to rejoin her brother, now in Hertfordshire, and Richard Fitzwilliam as well. They were her two favorite people, and she always felt safest in their united presence.
Georgiana leaned forward to look out the window. She had never been in this part of England before and had already noted significant changes from Derbyshire. It was flatter, for one thing, and glorious this time of year.
The hedgerows seemed to be lit ablaze, the maples and the rowans rioting in golden yellows and oranges and reds.
Birds flitted about from one tree to the next, gorging themselves on the brilliant scarlet berries of the rowans.
Flowers in glowing purple and luminous yellow and gleaming white ran rampant beneath the trees, with birds hopping among them to feast on the blackberries swollen to ripeness.
So entranced was she by the stunning autumn colors that Georgiana did not even notice the house until Mrs. Annesley exclaimed softly.
Netherfield was a handsome building; red brick and well-maintained, the shutters open wide.
Georgiana’s heart lifted at the sight of it.
It would be but moments, and she would again see Fitzwilliam and Richard!
/
Netherfield
Darcy twitched the book back into the light as his friend’s shadow fell across the desk once more.
Bingley stirred restlessly from the window, where he was looking out at the swaying branches disturbed by the wind through the treetops.
Darcy glanced up at his younger friend; Bingley’s boredom with dry figures and business was palpable.
Darcy leaned backward in the well-padded oaken chair. “I know it is not the most engaging subject in the world, Bingley,” he remarked, “but if you wish to become an estate owner, it is essential that you learn the proper care and management of both your land and your tenants.”
“I know!” Bingley exclaimed, looking over. “Only – sheep versus cows, wheat versus flax – it is all so very dull. I am a good deal more interested in this carriage that has just arrived, and I do believe it is bearing your sister.”
The chair creaked as Darcy leapt to his feet.
“Georgiana!” he cried happily. He rushed from the office as quickly as his dignity would allow and hurried down the corridor to the vestibule.
The front door stood ajar already, opened by the butler, and Darcy hastened down the stairway.
He moved past the footman, pulling the door open as Georgiana all but tumbled out, beaming with joy.
“Welcome, my dear sister!” Darcy said, as he kissed her on the forehead and gathered her into his arms. “I am so very glad to see you!”
Georgiana returned his embrace with fervor and said, “I am so delighted to see you too, Brother! I hope you are well?”
“Very well,” Darcy replied, and he turned as Fitzwilliam rushed down the stone stairs. “And here is Richard!”
“Hello, Gosling,” Richard said, using the odd nickname he had given his young cousin when Georgiana was but a child. “How was your trip?”
“It was long but not unpleasant. The roads were dry and the scenery quite interesting,” Georgiana said, and she turned to her companion, who had been helped out by a footman and was standing nearby.
“Mrs. Annesley, may I please introduce my cousin, Mr. Fitzwilliam? Richard, my companion, Mrs. Annesley.”
Richard bowed a little and said, “It is an honor to meet you, Mrs. Annesley.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Mrs. Annesley replied, just as Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst rushed down the stairs, both of them babbling words of welcome.
Darcy let them sweep Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley away so that the ladies could refresh themselves.
He was not especially fond of Bingley’s sisters, but they had always treated Georgiana well because she was Darcy’s sister, the niece of an earl, and had a large dowry.
Georgiana, in turn, seemed to like her hostesses well enough.
He looked forward to the evening, when they would have the opportunity to spend more time together.