He picked up his coffee once more.
Her eyes were remarkably fine.
Darcy set the cup down again, pushed back his chair, and went in search of some occupation sufficiently demanding to fill the remainder of the morning.
FIVE
2ndNovember 1811
Netherfield.
Darcy
Breakfast at Netherfield was, almost without exception, a quieter affair than dinner. Bingley attended to his correspondence as he ate. Mrs. Hurst devoted herself to her breakfast. Mr. Hurst devoted himself to rather more of everything than was strictly necessary. Miss Bingley presided over the table with all the consequence of a woman who considered herself mistress of the house already.
Darcy drank his tea and said very little.
Georgiana sat beside him, making respectable progress through her breakfast and answering Miss Bingley's enquiries regarding her musical studies with polite brevity. It required only a glance for Darcy to recognise that she was making a considerable effort. Caroline's questions betrayed a degree of self-importance which far exceeded her actual accomplishments, and Georgiana, though too well bred to show it, appeared perfectly aware of the fact.
"You play beautifully, dear Miss Darcy." Miss Bingley reached to refill her cup with such studied elegance that it appeared intended for the benefit of any observer. "I have rarely heard the pianoforte touched with such feeling. Your brother must be exceedingly proud."
"He is very kind about it," Georgiana replied.
"Not kind at all." Darcy glanced towards his sister and was pleased to see that the compliment had brightened her countenance. "Merely accurate."
Miss Bingley smiled at him as though the remark represented a significant advance in their intimacy.
Darcy returned his attention to his breakfast.
"Darcy." Bingley laid aside a letter, his face brightening as if he had just conceived an excellent idea. "I intend to call at Longbourn this morning. You ought to accompany me. If for no other reason than to make Mr. Bennet's acquaintance. He reminds me of you in certain respects. I am quite persuaded you would like him."
"Mr. Bennet," Miss Bingley said, with a precision that conveyed her opinion far more effectively than any increase in volume could have done, "has not thought proper to call upon you once since your arrival, Charles. Nor has he attended a single gathering to which we have been invited. I cannot imagine what you find so remarkable in a gentleman who cannot be troubled to quit his own house for society."
"Neither have we called upon them," Bingley replied cheerfully. "I have visited Longbourn several times. You and Louisa declined every invitation to accompany me."
Miss Bingley opened her mouth as if to reply but, apparently finding no satisfactory answer, closed it again.
"I should be very glad to come," Darcy said.
It occurred to him that this was the second occasion upon which Bingley had extended the invitation, and he found himself more inclined to accept than before. In addition, a part of him wished to see Miss Elizabeth again, for Georgiana's sake, or so he told himself.
Bingley’s smile almost reached his ears. "Excellent. Miss Darcy, will you—"
"Miss Darcy is to accompany us into Meryton this morning." Miss Bingley spoke so quickly in her haste that her teacup very nearly struck the saucer.
"I should have liked that very much." Georgiana looked towards Miss Bingley and then back to Bingley. "But I promised Miss Bingley I would accompany her to the modiste to look at a gown. I cannot honourably withdraw now." She hesitated. "Though I confess I am sorry to miss the visit. I would like very much to see Miss Elizabeth again."
Miss Bingley's smile did not falter.
"There is really nothing to regret on that account, dear Miss Darcy. I am quite certain Miss Eliza will remain in the neighbourhood for a considerable time yet."
"I enjoy speaking to her," Georgiana said. “I consider her a friend.”
She spoke simply, without emphasis, in the tone of someone stating a fact which ought not to require explanation or defence.
A brief silence settled over the table.
Mrs. Hurst laid down her fork.
