“You are not my enemy, Fitzwilliam,” Bingley answered suddenly with complete conviction, as though his distress had vanished entirely. “You are my friend, a truthful one and a man I deeply admire. Only someone like you could commit such a mistake, mostly unconsciously, and afterwards possess the courage to apologise and seek forgiveness. You are responsibleonly for your own faults, not mine. I was weak and indecisive and allowed myself to fall under my family’s influence when I abandoned Miss Bennet at Longbourn. A man must make his own decisions, and being easily led is a flaw like any other. Let us forget all this and travel to Hertfordshire tomorrow. No, let us speak plainly: let us travel to Longbourn and each seek the lady of his heart.”
For a long while, they drank in silence, then at last Bingley spoke again, his voice almost calm.
“Imagine it, Fitzwilliam. We might become brothers.”
But Darcy could not indulge in such dreams, for he remembered Elizabeth’s eyes the last time he had seen her, when he placed that letter in her hands. They had conveyed neither forgiveness nor hope. On the contrary.
Chapter 11
As they travelled towards Hertfordshire, they avoided speaking of their destination, preferring instead to admire the landscape and the beauty of the summer day. They breakfasted at an inn along the road, made plans for future hunting excursions, and spoke of their friends in London, each endeavouring to maintain an appearance of calm confidence. But when the gates of Netherfield appeared, excitement overwhelmed them both. Eager to see the house and remember only the good things, they entered the parlour utterly unprepared for the company that awaited them.
For long, almost embarrassing minutes, they looked at one another, incapable of speaking. The ladies were stunning, but each gentleman had eyes only for his Miss Bennet. Equally shocked and eager to understand the circumstances that had brought them together, they did not know how to begin the conversation.
“Miss Bennet,” Darcy said at last, “we have interrupted your ride.”
“Yes, Mr Darcy, you could say that!”
Jane’s serene eyes, when speaking to him, made him realise that Elizabeth had not revealed his involvement in her misery and suffering. He was grateful to her for this; the new beginning he wished for would have been impossible if old grudges had stood in their way. He was certain that Charles had indeed buried the past and was contemplating only the future, whilst his beautiful future gazed happily at him. Again, and perhaps for the last time, Darcy felt ashamed of his role.
Elizabeth’s attitude, however, was still far from what he wished it to be. Her shock, once tempered, gave way to an enigmatic smile. It was far from the look of a lady in love.
“What brings you to Netherfield?” Jane asked Bingley, and her question restored the peace.
“We came to meet the new owner,” Bingley answered, though his true reason for coming stood before him. He was blushing, and she was pale.
“The new owner?” Jane murmured, amused. “I am the new owner.”
Elizabeth smiled as her sister played with Mr Bingley.
“You?” the poor man asked, shocked again and suddenly frightened. He remembered his sisters speaking of the Bennet sisters, insisting they had no dowry and sought only gentlemen of fortune. It had been a horrible falsehood, but he also knew that Jane had not been rich the previous November. Desperation distorted his face. Even Darcy took his eyes from Elizabeth and looked anxiously in his friend’s direction. Seeing poor Bingley utterly distraught, Elizabeth took pity on him.
“Our father is the owner, in fact, Mr Bingley.”
The two sisters laughed at his relief.
“So you are living here?” Darcy asked.
“Yes and no; we are in the process of moving at the moment.”
The parlour seemed somehow changed. New paintings hung upon the walls, and many strange objects adorned the room: swords, masks, pottery, and other things he could not identify.
“They are my uncle’s,” Elizabeth answered his silent question. “He lives with us now, after spending his life in India and Africa.”
Darcy stood to observe the swords and rifles more closely, and Elizabeth moved towards him, hoping to allow Jane and Bingley to exchange a few words.
“Impressive panoply!” Darcy exclaimed with genuine admiration.
Elizabeth had the feeling that they were in a play, each repeating short lines in a plot they did not understand. A bad play and pitiful actors. The impression grew stronger when Mr Darcy asked, “How are you, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I am well, thank you.” She almost smiled at their polite and meaningless words, certain that he felt the same.
Darcy, however, was not in the same state of mind. By taking time to view the objects, he was postponing the moment when his eyes would have to meet hers, though he wished to know more than anything in the world whether she still regarded him with the same anger. He slowly turned towards Bingley, who was already close to Miss Bennet, then looked back at Elizabeth. His gaze seemed to make a statement: those two lovers are together; do you forgive me?
For Elizabeth, matters were not so simple. Her feelings remained unclear. She was somehow attracted to the man she had just met, but still doubted the one she remembered. His haughtiness had vanished, yet she continued to remember him as too rigid in his opinions and behaviour. Since knowing her uncle, she had begun to wish for a husband who craved adventure. Perhaps not one who would leave for Africa, but onewho delighted in open spaces, a good laugh, and the beauty of life revealed in the smallest and most apparently unimportant things.
She tried to imagine Darcy as master of Pemberley, but the image refused to form. She found herself in a puzzling situation. She remembered the man she had refused in anger a few months before. Still, his nearness disturbed her composure in a manner she had not anticipated. One moment, she was still angry with him; the next, she wished to forget every argument against him and surrender herself to the newfound delight of his presence, enjoying the eagerness with which his eyes sought hers.
Feeling warm and chilled at the same time, she looked to her sister for help, but Jane, standing with Mr Bingley, was wholly lost to the world.
