“Mr Bingley, please know you are welcome at any time. Nothing would be more agreeable to us than to see you again soon,” Mr Gardiner assured him.
“Thank you, that is very kind of you,” Bingley said, his face glowing with joy as he gazed at Miss Bennet. She was still quiet and timid, but though her joy was not so obvious, it was impossible to miss.
On their way home, Bingley spoke animatedly, mostly about Miss Bennet, asked questions but did not wait for answers, wondering when he could call again without it being too soon.
“I hope Miss Bennet was not upset with me. She looked so surprised and confused to see me. I wonder what Caroline and Louisa told her.”
“Bingley, I dare say Miss Bennet was delighted to see you, even if she appeared quiet and restrained. Hopefully, on your next visit, she will be more open to conversation.”
“I must thank you, Darcy! Without you, I might not have seen Miss Bennet again.”
“I do not deserve your thanks, Bingley. Without me, you might not have left Netherfield at all, so I have done more damage than good.”
“Perhaps. But I thank you nevertheless,” Bingley insisted, then continued to speak about Jane Bennet until the carriage stopped in front of Darcy’s house.
***
Darcy greeted Georgiana, then asked after his valet.
“Brother, Porter is not at home. He said he had some business to attend to on your behalf.”
“He does. I was not certain whether he had returned or not.”
“Brother, may I ask how your visit was?”
“Exceedingly pleasant, actually. More so than I expected. Can you believe Mrs Gardiner grew up in Lambton and remembered our parents?”
“Truly? How lovely! Do tell me everything, Brother!”
Darcy indulged his sister and related the visit with all the details; he was not a good narrator as every other word reminded him of Elizabeth. Besides, he wondered about Porter, curious to hear his report about the mysterious Mrs Crawford.
Eventually, Georgiana went to practise the pianoforte, and Darcy retired to his chamber. Another hour passed before Porter returned; it was already late in the afternoon.
“Well?” Darcy enquired directly.
“It is a sad tale, sir. Mrs Crawford has two daughters. The eldest, who is barely sixteen, gave birth to a baby boy. They are both ill. I fetched the doctor, and he examined them and gave them some medicine. He will visit them again tomorrow.”
“So, did you find out who they are?”
“They would not tell me, sir. Mrs Crawford said she will only disclose that to you. She cried most of the time, and she kept thanking you for helping them.”
“Do they live far from here? I would like to visit them.”
“Far enough, sir. Maybe three miles, I would say. And the house is…they barely have a roof over their heads.”
“Porter, did you take them some food? A young mother needs nourishment to recover.”
“I did not, sir.”
“Then please rest a little, then ask Mrs Gibbs to prepare a large basket with meat, fruit, bread, and some cheese and take it to them. Take the carriage, of course. And tell them I shall visit them tomorrow morning.”
“Very well, sir. I do not need to rest. I shall go immediately, if you do not need my services.”
“Not at all. We shall talk again later, when you return.”
The valet left, and all sorts of thoughts and worries troubled Darcy again. Thoughts of the young mother and her infant gave him shivers as he imagined Georgiana might have been in the same situation if she had eloped with that scoundrel Wickham. Who could this Mrs Crawford be? He had to find out the next day; he was too impatient to wait any longer. Whoever they were, their need for help was desperate, and he could not disregard them.
Elizabeth had called him arrogant and disdainful of the feelings of others. Was he truly so, or had resentment and anger induced her to exaggerate his flaws? How could he stop thinking of her or judging himself through her eyes?
