“Oh, I am,” Elizabeth replied with a resigned sigh. “But it does not solve as many problems as you might think. It does not make Lydia any more worldly-wise. It will not stop Wickham running up more debts.”It will not undo the fact that he is my brother!
“You were right, though, Lizzy,” her father said. “I have only been keeping my promise not to exert myself for five minutes, and I have already achieved another feat of brilliance. Your sister is saved from destitution. Lord knows what I might accomplish were I to do even less.” With exaggeratedly slow actions and an expression of feigned trepidation, he set his knife and fork down and slowly leant back in his chair, clasping his hands across his stomach. At which point, the door was flung open, and Mrs Bennet burst into the room.
“Such news, everyone! Such news! Hill has just returned from Meryton, and you will never guess what she has heard. Netherfield is being reopened! Mr Bingley is coming back!”
Much of the glee that had been missing from Mr Bennet’s countenance since Lydia’s misadventure began returned in that instant. He pushed himself to his feet and regarded Elizabeth with a self-satisfied grin. “And on that note, I am off to my library, where I shall endeavour to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day in the hopes that I might be able to remedy all our other troubles by dinner.”
* * *
The Wickhams’ windfall and Mr Bingley’s intentions were the focus of endless speculation at Longbourn, though Elizabeth spent most of her time quietly assuring Jane. Her eldest sister was all apprehension for everybody’s certain expectations of what was to come, and whilst she was exceedingly hopeful that Mr Bingley yet admired her, she dreaded so much attention from her family and friends.
An entire day and evening talking about nothing else was too much for Elizabeth, and at noon the next day, she escaped Longbourn and walked to Oakham Mount. She chose that destination deliberately, for it was a long way there and back, and she revelled in the bracing autumn breeze that harried her along the path, fussing at her bonnet and cuffs and loosening all her tightly held emotions.
She could congratulate or commiserate with Jane as the circumstance demanded; she could endure the whispers that came whenever Lydia’s name was mentioned; she could tolerate her father’s irreverence and her mother’s ignorance. What she knew not how to contend with, was the sorrow that repeatedly crept over her, stinging her eyes with tears, and making her hands clumsy with tremors, every time she thought about the gentleman who wasnotcoming back to Netherfield.
She did her best not to think about it most of the time, but when she returned home and heard Mr Bingley’s voice in the parlour, she almost put her bonnet back on and returned out of doors, for she did not think she had the strength to feign composure for the length of a call. Only Jane’s nervous attempts at conversation, emanating timorously from the parlour, prevented her running away.
She knew not what her countenance showed when she saw that Darcy was there, but his altered from a grave expression to one of fiercely restrained gratification in an instant. She doubted anyone else would notice, for as usual, he moved scarcely a muscle, butshesaw it as clearly as if he had come to his feet and bellowed his relief to the room.
“There you are, Lizzy. Where have you been?” her mother enquired, though she did not wait for an answer before continuing, “Look who is come. Mr Bingley!”
Elizabeth curtseyed to that gentleman, said some words that she hoped were welcoming, and remembered to spare Jane an encouraging smile before turning back to Darcy. She could scarcely believe he had come, yet there he was, his penetrating gaze as intimate and familiar as if she had never stepped out of his sight.
“Oh yes, and Mr Darcy,” Mrs Bennet added rudely, but Elizabeth had already left her behind and crossed the room.
“Mr Darcy. You are well, I hope.”
“Exceedingly now. And you?”
“Yes, thank you. How is Pemberley?”
His mouth twitched with a small smile. “Still standing. Just about.”
“Have they discovered what is causing the damage?”
“Subsidence has been confirmed.”
“That sounds serious. Do they know what has caused it?”
He smiled again, clearly gratified by something, though it could not have been what they were discussing. “No.”
“Can it be repaired?”
“Yes. In time.”
“I am so pleased. I should have been terribly upset to hear otherwise.” She wrinkled her nose in chagrin. “That is a foolish thing to say to you, is it not? I imagine you would have been a good deal more upset than I.”
He shook his head very slightly.
“Is Miss Darcy still at Pemberley?”
He confirmed that she was.
“I trust she is well. I hope my note reached her safely.” She detected a hint of something like annoyance in his expression, and though it was gone quickly, it nevertheless unnerved her. “It was such a pleasure to make her acquaintance—I was sorry it was curtailed. I hope the note gave her some assurance to that effect.”
“Lizzy, what are you running on about to Mr Darcy? You have not stopped since you came in the door. Remember to whom you are talking and be quiet.”
Elizabeth felt herself blush at her mother’s coarseness—and blush again as she realised with deep mortification that shehadbeen running on. She was so elated to see Darcy, had so much to say to him, wished so dearly to return to the easiness they seemed to have reached in Derbyshire, that she had quite forgotten her manners. Yet her mother was right—he had barely spoken, and she knew not whether that was because he rarely did, because he had not been able to, or because he did not wish to.
