Elizabeth had hoped the discomposure that beset her upon seeing Mr Darcy’s curricle approaching the inn would subside once the introduction with his sister had taken place. Alas, almost half an hour later she was no less agitated than when he initially entered the room, looking disquietingly well turned out and much taller than she could ever remember him being. An innocent glance to compare his and his sister’s appearance had flustered her almost beyond recovery from the outset, for her appraisal had concluded very much in the brother’s favour.
His collected behaviour ought to have aided the restoration of her own, for throughout the meeting, he betrayed no awkwardness, nor any indelicate display of regard to make her uncomfortable. Regrettably, it had the opposite effect of emphasising the alteration in his character from proud and disagreeable to civil and attentive. The prospect that her reproofs should have induced such a change only heightened her bewilderment.
Miss Darcy was evidently vastly uneasy, and her discomfiture might ordinarily have moved Elizabeth to focus her energies on putting the young lady at ease. Instead, it begged the question what Mr Darcy could possibly have said about her to provoke his sister to be so embarrassed. Thus, all curiosity as to his affections was further fuelled, increasing the weight of his gaze each time it came to rest upon her.
Mr Bingley’s arrival, sudden and exuberant, brought with it yet more uncertainty. His vivacious cordiality made it easy to overlook any vestige of anger she felt towards him for abandoning her sister. It also made it impossible to discern whether his interest in her family was a veiled search for news about Jane or merely good breeding.
To all of this was added the undercurrent of Mrs Gardiner’s scrutiny. Though Elizabeth was sure her aunt thought herself subtle, her every exchange with Mr Darcy drew Mrs Gardiner’s hawkish observation. It was enough to make even the most disinterested person nervous and was abrading what little equanimity she had remaining.
“Are you alone in travelling with your aunt and uncle? Are all your other sisters at Longbourn?” asked Mr Bingley.
Elizabeth tried her best to attend to him, but as he asked this, Mr Darcy said something to Mr Gardiner that put such a look of surprise on her uncle’s face as made her desperate to know the particulars.
“I should be delighted, sir,” Mr Gardiner replied. “Though I shall have to take you up on your offer of borrowing a rod and tackle.”
The offer to fish at Pemberley had been repeated! Elizabeth was gratified to have been right about Mr Darcy’s sincerity—if so wrong about everything else. How different he now seemed. Never had she seen him at such pains to please—and never had she thought to see that effort expended on any relation of hers!
She turned from Mr Bingley to join in the other conversation. “Aunt, will we ever drag my uncle home again, do you suppose? A spot at that beautiful lake and a fishing rod in hand, and he might very well decide to stay here forever.”
Mrs Gardiner merrily concurred with the very real prospect of having to go home without her husband, then took up Mr Bingley’s mention of Longbourn and began speaking to him of her children, who were staying there.
“You are kind to say the lake is beautiful, Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy said quietly while the others were talking together. “I meant to ask whether you enjoyed the park.”
“I did, very much.”
She would have elaborated on how well she liked the informality of the landscape but for the fear of saying anything that sounded covetous. It seemed enough to gratify Mr Darcy. He sat back in his chair with a smile that she remembered to have sometimes seen when he looked at her in Hertfordshire—a small, unassuming curl to his mouth that changed an otherwise severe expression into one of contemplative contentment. It was an understated, almost private display—particularly when juxtaposed to his friend’s effusiveness—but now that she knew what to look for, she could scarcely any longer see the disapproving, superior man who had slighted her at the Meryton Assembly. He looked simply happy. Happy to be there. Happy to be with her.
Her heart gave a silly flutter, and she hastened to speak to distract herself from it. “Miss Darcy, I imagine you must enjoy Pemberley’s grounds very well. I know your cousin Miss de Bourgh likes to tour the park at Rosings in a phaeton. Do you share her fondness for driving?”
“N-no. I-I never took to it well.”
Mr Darcy leant forward with an encouraging smile for his sister. “Georgiana likes to draw the various views from around the park. She has produced some exceedingly fine sketches.”
“Then I am not surprised at your aversion to driving around it, Miss Darcy. A moving carriage is absolutely the worse place from which to compose a sketch.”
“Oh, I did not—”
“Miss Bennet is teasing.”
It was gratifying that Mr Darcy understood as much, but Elizabeth was nevertheless sorry to have unsettled his sister if she was not used to sportive conversation—which she could well believe was the case. She was on the verge of apologising when Miss Darcy let out a soft laugh.
“Some of my early attempts did look as though I drew them on the move.”
Elizabeth grinned. “I might take up telling people that is how all my sketches were made. It would go some way to excusing the results.”
Mr Darcy announced their departure not long after this, calling on his sister to join him in expressing his wish to see their party at Pemberley before they left the country.
Miss Darcy blushed deeply and made her appeal to the floor. “Um, y-yes. We should like, very much, if you would join us. For dinner. If you please.”
Miss Darcy’s embarrassment was obvious, but Elizabeth was quite sure her own was greater as she considered the implications of such a request. Mr Darcy wished to prolong the acquaintance even further; he did not seem troubled by the prospect of Mr Bingley hearing more news of Jane; he wished to introduce her aunt and uncle—the very relations with whom any intercourse a few months ago would have been a disgrace—to his ‘large party of friends,’ all of whom she supposed hailed from the same elevated sphere as he. She could explain it by no other means than that he must still love her.
It was a conclusion by which not even the bravest person could remain unaffected, and she turned away to compose herself before she must meet anyone’s eye. She did not summon the courage to look up again until the whole company had said their goodbyes. She managed only a fleeting smile and a brief curtsey before the door closed behind them, at which point, Mrs Gardiner turned directly to stare at her.
“What did you think of Mr Bingley?” Elizabeth enquired before her aunt could voice the question sitting openly on her face.
“I thought him a thoroughly pleasant fellow,” her uncle replied. “Very easy manners indeed.”
Mrs Gardiner agreed. “I approve of him quite as much as the next handsome, rich young man. He has shown himself to be no more careless and inconstant than the rest of them.”
