He had since repented of his hasty departure from Netherfield and of the doubts which had prevented his return. During their journey to Pemberley, they had paused for a night at Netherfield—a measure of convenience intended merely to break the way. Yet that brief halt had brought with it a flood of recollection. By morning, he had determined that on his return,he would pause again, however long it might require, to find out whether Miss Bennet might forgive him and accept a renewal of his addresses.
He wished to speak with Darcy on the subject, but hesitated. Though he had once deferred to his friend’s opinion, this time he believed Darcy to be grievously mistaken. Jane Bennet was no seeker of fortune; she was, in his view, a gentle creature of perfect goodness. He accepted that, in the past, he might have been deceived regarding his feelings for other ladies, but in this instance, his heart did not mislead him. For the last few months, he had lived in repentance and perplexity, and only when he had fixed his sentiments upon the lady from Longbourn did the sunshine return to his prospect. He longed to offer his apologies, yet after so many months he could not be certain that the lady of his affections would yet incline to receive them.
To his sisters, he announced that they would remain at Pemberley no longer than a fortnight. He must be in London, he said, with a resolution that admitted of no dispute.
To his gratitude, Miss Elizabeth, cordial as ever, appeared to bear no resentment. He placed himself beside her with cautious hope, intending to open his mind respecting her sister. But it was more difficult to do the endeavour than he thought. They spoke little and mostly about Pemberley and their gracious hosts, and no occasion presented itself for Charles to unveil his secret.
He ate little of the meal, drank his wine without relish, and, as the dinner drew towards its conclusion, he turned to her without meeting her eye. “Do you suppose,” he asked, in a low voice, “that a visit to Longbourn would be well received by your family?”
She looked at him with mild surprise, as though suddenly reminded of his presence. That evening, her mind had been otherwise engaged—chiefly with her own thoughts, and with MrDarcy, whose steady regard had followed her from across the room.
However, his question revived the memories of her sister’s suffering and sadness that had continued during the past months. On the verge of answering in her preferred harsh style, she ultimately remembered how much unhappiness had come her way by reacting without serious reflection. She gave herself a moment for the resentments to calm. In the end, this man was the best solution for her sister. They were alike, for to both of them the world was ever a kind of Eden. Elizabeth felt assured that Jane would soon forget her past suffering upon the receipt of a marriage proposal. She was in the best position to encourage Mr Bingley to visit Longbourn and to bring their difficulty to a happy conclusion.
“Mr Bingley,” she said with a smile, “we expected your call in London.”
“In London?” he repeated, visibly shocked. He did not know that Jane had been in town…that was evident from his desperate countenance.
“Yes. Jane spent the winter and spring in London. She waited upon your sisters, and received a return visit from Miss Bingley.”
The poor man turned even paler. “Good Heavens,” he murmured. “She was in London…How unkind of my—”
He said no more, and Elizabeth, eager to rejoin the company—particularly Mr Darcy, who now advanced towards them—rose and said, with a look of playful cheerfulness, “Netherfield Park lies directly on your road, Mr Bingley, and Longbourn is not far beyond. You would be most welcome as a neighbour.”
Then she left him without a glance, her attention centred on Mr Darcy, who offered his arm to lead her to the parlour.
Lost in his thoughts, Mr Bingley scarcely noticed the footmen waiting for him to leave the dining room. Did Miss Elizabeth mean to encourage him? Or was she merely extending the usual civility of a kindly neighbour?
When he did rejoin the others, he avoided his sisters— conduct most uncommon in a gentleman distinguished for tenderness and family attachment.
Caroline, observing him from across the room, felt the sharp pang of mortification. “This repulsive and annoying family,” she murmured with inward bitterness, “is altering even my brother. Why can he not attach himself to Georgiana Darcy? She is still young, but she is possessed of fortune, well-situated, and entirely eligible.”
But her questions found no answer, and the cheerfulness that surrounded her only deepened her gloom.
Chapter 2
“You are in a good mood, my dear,” observed Mrs Gardiner gently.
Aunt and niece were walking beside the river, awaiting the return of the gentlemen from their sport. The morning had been most agreeably passed in the rose garden amongst their companions. Still, once the sun had grown too warm, the company had retired—some to the terraces, others to rest in their chambers. Mrs Gardiner, however, had been unable to refuse the silent entreaty in Elizabeth’s eyes, which betrayed a more particular wish than the mere enjoyment of the air. She wanted to walk where she might encounter a certain fisherman.
“Good mood?” Elizabeth replied. “I am, above all, much taken with the house and landscape.”
Yet her aunt was not deceived. She read, in that absent smile, the blushes that tinged her cheeks and the frequent glances cast towards the path beside the stream, that there existed a deeper attraction than the scenery alone could inspire.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner had been much astonished by their reception at Pemberley. From the first moment when MrDarcy’s unexpected arrival found them midway through their house-tour, to the astonishing invitation to remain as guests for a week or more, all had been conducted with civility so marked as almost to approach eagerness.
“There can be only one explanation,” Mr Gardiner had said to his wife as they admired the elegance of their apartments. “Our dear niece is plainly something more to Mr Darcy than a mere acquaintance.”
Mr Gardiner took particular pleasure in the exercise of what he termed his “profound discernment of character.”
“Love is abroad,” he had added, with the air of a man well satisfied with the accuracy of his own judgement.
Mrs Gardiner, for her part, had been slower to agree. Mr Darcy was, after all, a gentleman of distinction—wealthy, well-born, and accustomed to the first circles.
“It is not,” she said, “that I fail to value Lizzy’s worth—for she is an accomplished young woman in every respect—but gentlemen of Mr Darcy’s rank seldom form attachments beyond theirsphere. One must only look about this house to understand the great distance between his world and ours. Even the guests’ apartments are beyond anything I have ever seen.”
Still, in light of Elizabeth’s visible animation, Mrs Gardiner had begun to suspect that her husband’s judgement might once again prove correct.
“I believe, dearest niece,” she said now, in a tone at once tender and mildly reproving, “that you have not been entirely open with the aunt who loves you so well.”
