Elizabeth noted the way Bingley's face lit at this information and felt a sharp confusion rise within her. Why should he appear so delighted to learn where they were staying? He had made no effort to see Jane in London, had not called even once despite knowing she was there. And yet now he looked as though he had been given the most welcome news imaginable. It made no sense.
An awkward pause followed. Mr. Bingley glanced uncertainly at Mrs. Gardiner, clearly wishing to address her but uncertain of the propriety without a formal introduction. Mrs. Gardiner, in turn, looked expectantly at Elizabeth, waiting to be properly introduced to this gentleman she had heard so much about—and none of it good.
Elizabeth cleared her throat softly. "Aunt, may I also present Mr. Bingley properly. Mr. Bingley, my aunt, Mrs. Gardiner."
Bingley bowed hastily. "Mrs. Gardiner, I am honored. Your nieces—that is, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth—I had the pleasure of their acquaintance in Hertfordshire last autumn."
"So I understand," Mrs. Gardiner said, her tone considerably cooler than it had been with Mr. Darcy.
Her expression remained polite but guarded, and Elizabeth did not miss the way her aunt's eyes assessed the young man with careful reserve.
An awkward silence fell as the gentlemen seemed uncertain how to proceed.
Mrs. Gardiner, ever practical, collected herself. She looked at Mr. Darcy, then at the smoking ruins behind them, then back to Elizabeth.
"Mr. Darcy," she said warmly, "I find myself quite in your debt. I shudder to think what might have happened had you not acted so swiftly." She paused, then added, "We are staying in Camden Place for the summer, as I mentioned. I wonder—that is, we would be most honored if you and Mr. Bingley would join us for dinner. Tomorrow evening, perhaps? It is the least we can do to express our gratitude."
Elizabeth's pulse quickened. She had not expected this, though she should have. Her aunt was nothing if not proper, and the debt they owed Mr. Darcy was undeniable.
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, his expression careful, searching. "That is very kind, Mrs. Gardiner, but I would not wish to impose—"
"It would be no imposition," Mrs. Gardiner said firmly. "Indeed, I insist. From what I have heard, you are more often in London or at Pemberley than in Bath. We must seize the opportunity while we have it."
Darcy's brow lifted slightly. "You know Pemberley, madam?"
Mrs. Gardiner smiled. "I grew up in Lambton, Mr. Darcy. I know the estate well, though I confess it has been many years since I visited the neighbourhood."
"Lambton," Darcy repeated, and something shifted in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or interest. "Then you must be familiar with the country round about."
"Very familiar. My father was a solicitor there before his retirement. I spent my childhood rambling those hills." She glanced at Elizabeth with a small, knowing smile. "I have been promising Lizzy a tour of my old haunts for some time now."
Elizabeth felt a sudden, irrational panic. She had not thought—had not considered—
Pemberley. They might have visited Derbyshire, but her aunt had chosen Bath instead.
The idea struck her with unexpected force.
"Then I hope you will allow me to be of service during your stay in Derbyshire," Darcy said quietly. "Pemberley's grounds are open to visitors, and I would be honored to receive you there."
Mrs. Gardiner beamed. "How gracious of you, Mr. Darcy. But first, dinner tomorrow. Shall we say six o'clock? Number fourteen, Camden Place."
Darcy bowed. "We would be delighted, Mrs. Gardiner."
Bingley, who had been listening to this exchange with barely concealed eagerness, spoke quickly. "Yes—yes, of course. Most delighted. And Miss Bennet—that is, I hope Miss Bennet is well?"
"Quite well, Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth assured him, watching his face carefully.
Mrs. Gardiner took Elizabeth's arm with gentle firmness. "Excellent. Now, I think we must get this girl home. She hashad quite enough excitement for one morning, and I suspect her sister will be anxious when we tell her of this adventure."
Elizabeth allowed herself to be guided away, but not before glancing back.
Mr. Darcy stood in the middle of the smoking street, his shirt stained with soot and blood, watching her go with an expression she could not quite read.
Mr. Bingley stood beside him, already speaking with animation, though his friend seemed only half-attentive to whatever he was saying.
And in Mr. Darcy's eyes, she saw something she had not expected.
Hope.
