“Perhaps.” He urged his mount back in the direction of the house. “I certainly ought not to have taken on the superintendence of your romantic affairs. I apologise for thinking it was my place.”
“I must say, your note was a surprise. As was its postmark.”
Darcy grimaced. “I must apologise for that as well. I only concealed my destination from you because I knew you would wish to accompany me, and at the time, I believed Miss Bennet to be still indifferent to you. I thought it would only pain you. Besides,” he added irritably, “I only intended to be in Meryton one night and had no intention of seeing the Bennets.”
“Yes,” his friend said, laughing. “From what you have told me, it seems your cousin has given you quite the merry chase. Is she usually this audacious?”
“No, she is not. But then, she has never before been free of my aunt’s watchful eye.”And she has never before had cause to suspect that her cousin was about to ruin the whole family with a staggeringly imprudent marriage, he thought privately.
They rode for a while in silence, then Bingley cleared his throat. “Your letter was somewhat short on details, old fruit.”
“What further details do you require?”
“A man needs more to go on than an observation that the woman he admires ‘might not be indifferent’ to him. Have you nothing else for me?”
“Not a great deal. But her sister Elizabeth insists she admires you. Her father confirmed she was miserable when you left. And she looked very well pleased when your letter arrived announcing your return.”
Nevertheless, Miss Bennet’s modest smile had beennothingto the look Elizabeth had givenhimwhen she met his gaze on the drive outside Longbourn. It was a look which, many years hence when he would likely not have laid eyes on her for an age and may even be married to another woman, he would probably still treasure better than any other Christmas gift he had ever received. It had plagued him all day, for one such look could never be enough to last a lifetime. He desperately wanted more.
“You are right,” Bingley replied. “That is nota great deal, but it is a start. I shall just have to hope for better luck at dinner.”
Darcy only nodded. Dinner! Another major source of his present misery. Good sense told him he ought to have returned to London at first light, rather than torture himself with another evening of Elizabeth’s company, but though he abhorred his own weakness, he simply could not tear himself away. He would give himself one last evening of bliss before he must return to life without her.
* * *
Two hours into the evening, Darcy reflected that ‘bliss’ was not a wordanyonecould use to describe proceedings thus far. The Bennets had arrived promptly at seven o’clock, with only their three youngest daughters in tow. The Gardiners had arrived almost half an hour later with their two eldest nieces, claiming one of their young children had delayed them.
There had been no heart-stopping looks directed at either him or Bingley from either lady. Elizabeth had stepped down from the carriage and attached herself firmly to her sister’s arm, where she remained, watching her possessively throughout her re-introduction to Bingley and sparing nary a glance for anybody else.
The introduction to Georgiana, for which Darcy had been so very anxious, had been even less inspiring. Elizabeth was perfectly civil, but she seemed largely unaffected by the honour of the presentation, far more interested in her own sister than his, almost as though she expected Miss Bennet to disapprove of the acquaintance. Georgiana had been typically meek, stammering and wincing her way through her hostess’s duties with humiliatingly frequent prompts from her companion and vexingly few from her cousin. The whole thing had left him vastly dissatisfied, a far cry from the joyous meeting of kindred spirits he had foolishly envisaged.
As for Miss Bennet, gone was the lady who had blushed happily at the mention of Bingley’s return. She scarcely seemed able to look at him, replied to his questions with monosyllabic responses or looked to Elizabeth to answer for her, and generally acted as though she would rather be anywhere but in Netherfield’s dining room. Darcy began to wonder whether he had slipped from his horse and hit his head upon arriving in Meryton and hallucinated everything that had occurred since, for nothing he had witnessed this evening corresponded to his previous observations.
“I must say, Mr Bingley,” said Mrs Bennet, who then instead of saying it, took a large gulp of claret. “That was a delightful meal. Your cook did a wonderful job, considering she had less than a day’s notice to prepare it all.”
“Or have we just eaten the mealyouwere supposed to have the day you took your leave without warning?” said her husband, chuckling to himself. “It was worth the wait. Nothing like well-aged beef.”
Bingley coloured slightly but forged valiantly onwards. “No, indeed, I had it all brought down from London with this dinner in mind.” Looking at Miss Bennet, he added, “I had a fancy that it should be as enjoyable as possible.”
Miss Bennet did not look pleased. She only smiled weakly and continued eating.
“Beef is your favourite, Georgiana, is it not?” Darcy said to cover the intervening silence.
His sister stammered an inarticulate reply. It was all his senseless remark warranted, to be fair. Damn, he hated inane pleasantries!
“Goodness, Mr Bingley. What a lot of trouble you have gone to for your friends,” Elizabeth said coldly, confirming Darcy’s impression that she was exceedingly angry about something. He wished he knew what.
He had, at first, assumed it to be whatever Anne had said to her, but he was less certain now, for her resentment did not appear to be reserved for him or Anne but included the whole Netherfield party. He wished also that her expression, so like the one she had worn when they danced at Bingley’s ball, was not so devastatingly alluring. Unsmiling severity sharpened the contours of her face, plumped her lips, and made her beautiful eyes flash dangerously. He could not look away, and his thoughts were in chaotic, brutish uproar.
“Indeed,” Bingley replied. Still looking at Miss Bennet, he said, “I aspire to please.” It did him no good. She was not looking athim,and his earnestness was wasted.
“You may take heart then, Mr Bingley. Many people have aspirations. Yours, at least, are attainable,” Anne remarked.
Elizabeth looked at her darkly. Her sister paled and attended more diligently to her meal.
“Oh, you did listen to me yesterday then, Miss de Bourgh?” said Mrs Bennet. “I was worried you would not take my advice to heart.”
“Is that what it was, madam? Advice? You will have to forgive me. I mistook it for impertinence.”
