He would write them that same night and send his letters by messenger at first light. They would know by tomorrow afternoon—this afternoon. Would this infernal ball never end?
His uncle Hugh and aunt Helen, Lord and Lady Matlock, would want to meet Elizabeth, and Darcy foresaw no difficulties in her passing their inspection.
However, he dreaded informing Richard. Darcy would rather tell him the whole truth of the matter, but to do so in a letter which could be lost or intercepted was foolhardy. If Darcy was not careful, his cousin would hop on his fastest horse and race to Hertfordshire. He would feel no compunction imposing on Bingley’s hospitality so he might tease and torment Darcy until he confessed the whole story just to shut him up. He must keep Richard at bay.
And there was Georgiana. Darcy could think of nothing worse than his heartsore sister arriving at Netherfield Park to see Bingley drooling like a lovesick puppy over another lady or potentially seeing Wickham. How might he prevent it?
Georgie would want to meet her new sister, and rightly so. London was a convenient distance to travel to Hertfordshire. If Darcy was not careful, his entire family would materialize here, and that must be avoided. The image of either of his aunts meeting Mrs. Bennet sent a cold shiver down his spine.
It took two reels and a cotillion before he settled on a plan which was both plausible and appeasing. He would simply beg Georgiana to return to Pemberley with her companion to ready the house for his new bride. Richard would accompany them for their safekeeping. Two birds with one stone.
As for his aunts, he would have to depend on Lady Catherine’s aversion to travel and Lady Matlock’s attentiveness to Georgie to keep them away.
Confident in the success of this strategy, Darcy slept soundly once the letters had been written and a messenger secured.
Maddeningly, he woke only a few hours later at his usual time. He lay abed another quarter of an hour past six trying to coax himself back into slumber, but it was not to be.
He had too much to think about: how to separate Bingley from the Bennets, how to prevent Georgiana from meeting Miss Bennet, how to behave like a besotted suitor…
To continue abed was futile, so he rose and dressed. A quarter hour later, he descended the stairs and out to the stables to his saddled gelding, his greatcoat fluttering behind him like a cape.
He soon found the heavily trodden path upon which Elizabeth had made her way to Netherfield during her sister’s convalescence. The day she had arrived with wind-blown hair curling wildly around her, cheeks heightened to a becoming hue of pink, her eyes bright with exercise, and her petticoats damp with mud— hardly the six inches Bingley’s sisters claimed. Elizabeth had presented an impressive figure of one who loved nature and doted on her sister.
Darcy frowned. He doted on his sister too.
While it pleased him to have something more in common with his betrothed, he also recognized the danger their conflicting ends presented.
On what errand could he send Bingley away?
A gentle slope rose before Darcy, the sun peeking over its edge piercing through the dawn.
When he reached the top of the hill, there she was, walking alone up the other side, her bonnet hanging down her back, fog swirling around her skirts. He raised his hand to wave, certain she saw him when she scrambled to don her bonnet and tie the ribbons neatly at her chin.
He wished she would not bother. He rather liked her hair.
Darcy dropped his hand and tempered his smile. He had not meant it to be so grand.
Handing his horse to the groom who followed behind, Darcy stood beside Elizabeth. He tried to say something clever, but the harder Darcy tried to focus, the more she smiled up at him, and the more scattered his thoughts became.
It was Elizabeth who finally spoke. “You are out early.”
He could have said that! “I might say the same about you.”
She tilted her head. “Do you often ride before the household awakens?”
“Yes. I need the quiet before the obligations of the day take my attention.”
“I imagine property as grand as Pemberley must demand a great deal of your time. Miss Bingley described it as a jewel among estates. She went into raptures when she described the rose garden.”
Darcy cocked an eyebrow. He had a very different memory of Miss Bingley and his rose garden.
Flippantly, she added, “Evidently, Pemberley’s gardens are beyond comparison, or my humble comprehension.” Elizabeth chuckled. She cared naught for Miss Bingley’s good opinion, a quality which would suit her well once she entered Darcy’s circle with all its pomp and presumption.
“Miss Bingley does you little justice. My mother redesigned the gardens to her liking. While I have yet to see their equal, I would never place a limit on your ability to comprehend any subject you desired to understand.”
She smiled softly, and Darcy fairly burst with pride at having said the correct thing. He offered his arm, and they walked. After several paces she asked, “Even you?”
It took him a moment to catch her meaning. “You wish to understand me?”
