Page 149 of Bitterness of Spirit & The Painting

The conversation with Jane aroused more questions and speculations for Elizabeth. Bingley had mentioned several times that he would visit Pemberley next month, but still Darcy had asked him to come to Brighton and told him the truth about Jane. He could not have any other reason than his willingness to admit his errors and make amends for them.

If Jane had not been in Brighton, Bingley—who seemed as much in love as he was last autumn—would have likely returned to Netherfield. Bingley’s admiration for Jane was so openly displayed that even the Crawfords—as little interest as they had in him—noticed it. And Darcy had shown no sign of disapproval—as he had done so many times in Hertfordshire. His actions revealed more of Darcy’s character and true nature, which she had failed so badly to notice before.

And with her, he was indeed more than polite. Just as Jane had said, he appeared willing to continue their acquaintance as it had been—but on an even friendlier footing. Of her own wishes, she was still uncertain, but she was slowly becoming less distressed too.

∞∞∞

The day of the happy reunion might have been warm for their souls, but it was still cold and overcast. After his visit to the Crawford Cottage, Darcy stopped to see Mrs Julia Norwood and to introduce Bingley to her. They heard her playing the pianoforte, but the children—Annie and James—hurried to announce them and she immediately appeared to greet them. The puppy was playing at their feet, while the kitten sat on a chair, momentarily abandoned by the girl.

They sat outside in the garden, exchanging pleasantries, but shortly afterwards the wind intensified and the clouds darkened again. Julia invited them inside, but as it was already late in the afternoon, they declined and postponed the visit for the next day.

“If the weather allows it, we will go to sea bathing before noon. My son promised Mrs Gardiner’s sons that we would join them,” Mrs Norwood explained.

“Well then, this is quite perfect,” Bingley hurried to answer. “We will go sea bathing too! We have already spoken to Mrs Gardiner.”

“Ah, I see,” she replied meaningfully. “It is good that we are all staying so close to each other. Whether we are at home or at the beach, we can easily meet.”

A clap of thunder hastened their separation and the lady entered the house while they return to Mrs Clarke’s.

Until dinnertime, Bingley was restless. He expressed his admiration for Mrs Norwood, his wonder at the circumstances that had brought them all together, and he mentioned Miss Bennet in every other sentence. Darcy tried to politely listen to him, but his thoughts were running from one house to the next, reflecting on the richness of all he had experienced in the last two days—details about his mother combined with his observations regarding Elizabeth. His feelings suffered changes every day—in truth, several times a day—throwing him from torment and despair to elation and hope.

“Mrs Clarke, please join us for dinner. There are several things I would like to discuss with you,” he addressed their host.

“Of course, sir. Did you have a pleasant day?”

“Yes, very much so. We discovered we have some close acquaintances who have rented rooms at Mrs Crawford’s house, so we called on them, and we visited Mrs Norwood too. I felt very fortunate to be able to share memories of my mother with people who were fond of her.”

“Oh, how wonderful! I am sure they were exceedingly happy to see you too!”

“I believe they were. And we were all surprised by the coincidence that brought us all together.”

Mrs Clarke seemed puzzled.

“What coincidence? You came here following in your mother’s footsteps and we have been here all the time. Well, not quite. Mrs Crawford lived in Oxfordshire with her husband and daughter for several years and she returned only when both her brothers passed away. And Julia lived in London from the time of her marriage until her mother passed away and she took on the responsibility of caring for her uncle.”

“The coincidence is that our friends from Hertfordshire are spending a whole month here too,” Bingley interjected.

“Ah I see. That is a coincidence, indeed. And they are staying at the Crawford cottage you say?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Mrs Clarke, I understand that both Mrs Crawford and Julia’s mother had brothers?”

“Yes,” the lady replied, surprised by the enquiry.

“And…have they all passed away?”

“Oh no. Mrs Fitzroy’s brother still lives with Julia.”

“I see…And did they all live here when they were young?”

“For few years, from what I recall. They then left and returned again when they grew old. I am not certain when it happened, but perhaps Jenny will remember. I can ask her if you wish.”

“There is no need, Mrs Clarke. I will speak to Mrs Crawford and Mrs Norwood again soon. I am sure we still have many subjects of conversation and many recollections to share,” Darcy concluded. And he had every intention of doing so. Calm, patient and careful, he would simply enjoy his time with the two ladies and, with God’s will, he might find the answers to all his asked and unasked questions, as well as to a part of his torment. At least with regards to his mother.

With Elizabeth—the keeper of the other half of his turmoil—he dared make no plans and no assumptions. Only hopes. Despite her reticence, he recognised that her behaviour towards him had changed. She was less at ease with him, less teasing, more uncomfortable and restrained than she had been in Hertfordshire and Kent.

But, compared with that dreadful day at the parsonage and with how he had imagined their meetings might be after the failed proposal, she was much more conciliatory, warm, soft and friendly.