Elizabeth’s mind was still unsettled; she longed to unburden herself to Jane and her aunt, to confess the tumult of Hunsford — the proposal, the accusations, the letter. But Jane’s tender heart, still mending from Mr Bingley’s absence, could hardly bear such a weight.
She forced a smile at her aunt’s last statement, though her mind was filled with questions about what Mr Darcy would do next.
“Since the weather has been so pleasant of late, perhaps we could plan some shopping and a walk in Hyde Park,” Mrs Gardiner suggested. “And since we intend to be in the neighbourhood, we might send a note to Miss Darcy. From there, it will be her decision.”
Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances; they did not know their aunt was so keen to visit someone outside her close circle of friends.
Elizabeth’s pulse quickened at the thought of being anywhere near Mr Darcy’s house. And the notion of having tea with Miss Darcy may mean another encounter with her brother. The prospect was both thrilling and daunting, a collision of curiosity and caution. She murmured her assent, hoping her voice betrayed none of her inner turmoil.
“Lizzy, do you think Mr Bingley is unaware of my presence in town?” Jane asked her later.
“I suspect he is,” Elizabeth replied, remembering Mr Darcy’s words in his letter. “I presume his sisters conveniently forgot to mention it.”
“But they said he knew and that he was busy with Miss Darcy. Did you see how pretty she is? Who could blame him for choosing her?”
“Jane, dearest, somehow I doubt Mr Bingley is in a position to choose Miss Darcy. She is full young, and she did not seem affected when she spoke of him. I would wager that Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley invented the story to make you forget him.”
“I cannot imagine they would intend to deceive me on purpose, Lizzy. I cannot think so ill of them. But I assume we shall have our answer soon. If Mr Bingley returns to town and still does not call, I shall forget him forever.”
Elizabeth wished she could offer her sister some words of comfort, but she did not know how. She avoided setting Jane’s hopes too high, in order to protect her from further disappointment. In the end, it all depended on Mr Bingley’s sense of honour and his true feelings for Jane.
The next morning, Mrs Gardiner discussed with her husband the idea of a trip to Hyde Park. Consequently, a note was sent to Miss Darcy.
To Elizabeth’s mingled relief and apprehension, a reply arrived a few hours later; Miss Darcy expressed delight at the prospect of hosting Mrs Gardiner and her nieces. The appointed day was fixed, and Elizabeth spent the intervening hours in a state of restless anticipation, her mind weaving scenarios of what might transpire.
On the day of the visit, the Gardiner party set out in their carriage, the spring air crisp and fragrant. Jane wore a pale blue gown that complemented her gentle beauty, while Elizabeth chose a simple muslin dress in a soft rose hue, fighting with her nerves the entire ride.
They first visited a few shops, then took a short walk in Hyde Park before returning to the carriage for the brief journey to Park Lane, where the Darcys’ home was situated. Elizabeth paid little attention to the shops; and even the park — one of her favourite places in all of London — held little charm that particular day. Her mind was preoccupied with the notion of being in the house of the man who had declared his love for her, and whom she had so harshly and unfairly offended. Why had she even agreed to the visit? She had no business being in his home, with his sister! Miss Darcy’s invitation had been clearly addressed to Mrs Gardiner, based on their mutual interest in Pemberley. So Elizabeth could have — should have — found a pretext and remained at home. It was too late, though, as the carriage stopped at their destination and they stepped out.
Darcy House was a handsome building, its façade imposing yet elegant, with tall windows reflecting the afternoon sun. A footman ushered them into a drawing room adorned with rich furnishings and delicate porcelain, where Miss Darcy and her companion, Mrs Annesley, awaited them. Elizabeth’s heart raced, and she was hardly capable of noticing any of the details around her.
Miss Darcy rose with a shy smile, her delicate frame swathed in a gown of cream silk, her blond hair adorned with a single pearl comb.
“Mrs Gardiner, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” she greeted, her voice soft. “I am so pleased you could come. I have looked forward to this ever since the theatre.” She soundedgenuine, her smile friendly yet timid, and Elizabeth could not help comparing her manner with the Bingley sisters’ arrogant self-sufficiency. This sweet-natured girl had been the victim of Mr Wickham’s vicious character; how horrible must a man be to deceive the daughter of his godfather?And how stupid I was to believe that man so easily.Elizabeth mused, while her aunt returned the greetings.
“The pleasure is ours, Miss Darcy. Your invitation was most generous. I confess I am impressed and a little intimidated to be here.”
All three of them sat, Jane obviously uneasy, in contrast to Mrs Gardiner’s joy. Elizabeth’s eyes darted about the room, half-expecting Mr Darcy to appear.
“My brother is out, at his club, with my cousins and my uncle,” Miss Darcy explained.
“I hope we have not imposed on Mr Darcy’s plans,” Elizabeth said.
“No, not at all. They meet twice a week whenever we are all in London.”
The conversation began slowly but soon flowed easily, with Mrs Gardiner and Mrs Annesley in the middle of it. Miss Darcy and Jane were both restrained and Elizabeth distressed, but the older ladies found ways to engage them all in conversation. They spoke of music, the theatre, then of Pemberley and the late Mr Darcy and Lady Anne.
“Your father was known to be the best landlord and the best master,” Mrs Gardiner said.
“My brother is just the same,” the girl answered. “He is kind and generous — everybody admires him. I feel grateful to be his sister.”
“Mr Darcy speaks highly of you,” Elizabeth finally interjected. “He mentioned your exquisite talent at the pianoforte.”
“My brother is too generous and tends to exaggerate my skills. Do you play and sing, Miss Elizabeth? Miss Bennet?”
“I do, but only a little and very ill,” Elizabeth replied, laughing lightly, her thoughts drifting to the absent master of the house. It was for the better that he was absent; he must still be stung by her rejection.
The conversation continued, and Jane became more involved in it, talking about her enjoyment of riding — something she and Miss Darcy had in common — while Elizabeth’s mind drifted.
