Page 52 of The Marriage Articles

“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane said, on an outward breath that contained several sentences.

Elizabeth looked at her sister. Jane’s composure broke first, which it almost never did, into a smile she could not suppress, and that was the end of Elizabeth’s composure as well. “She is quite formidable,” Jane said at last.

“She is a force of nature,” Elizabeth said.

Jane’s eyes went to the door and back. “You did not tell her who invited the Bingleys.”

Elizabeth returned to the chair she had not yet occupied and found it comfortable. “I did not have the heart to tell her. Besides, if she knew Mr Bingley was Mr Darcy’s Cambridge friend, she would demand something worse of me before dinner, and I have already used my best arguments.”

“Now,” Elizabeth said, “tell me what you and Miss de Bourgh had planned before you were required to attend that performance.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Elizabeth took her place beside her husband in the entrance hall, where the late morning light came pleasantly through the door and the gravel of the drive lay quiet under the windows. Somewhere in the parlour Lady Catherine de Bourgh was sitting in the largest chair in the house, listening, Elizabeth did not doubt, for wheels.

The wheels came not long after. Mr Bingley was down from the first carriage before the steps were properly unfolded, warm and amiable. “Mrs Darcy, how do you do? Darcy, how good it is to see you, old friend. Miss Bennet, and Miss Darcy too, how very well you both look. Derbyshire agrees with you all, I see it at a glance.” He peered round her into the hall. “And what a fine house it is. I had quite forgotten how fine.”

Miss Bingley came down with Mrs Hurst at her shoulder, and Mr Hurst after his wife, unhurried and looking already for the door. Elizabeth watched Miss Bingley sweep her gaze over the grey stone of the house, looking every bit the woman who meant to make herself at home there.

“You have a very pretty situation here, my dear,” Miss Bingley said, when the civilities at the door were done. “The grounds are quite beyond what one expects of the north, and the park has a great deal of natural beauty. One forgets, between one visit and the next, quite how noble the stone of the house appears.”

“You are very good. I hope the house continues to please upon a closer view.”

“I am sure it will. Indeed, I feel as if I were returning home rather than arriving as a guest.” Miss Bingley smiled with great warmth. “Having spent so many pleasant hours here in times past, every room is quite familiar to me. And how do you find it, Miss Eliza?” The name hung a moment between them. “I beg your pardon. Mrs Darcy. Old habits are the hardest to break, are they not?”

“They are,” Elizabeth said. “Though I trust a fortnight under this roof will be quite sufficient to correct the error.”

“Caroline is quite right,” Mrs Hurst said. “The park is very fine.”

Elizabeth inclined her head and showed the guests into the parlour herself, Darcy at her shoulder. Lady Catherine sat in the largest chair, imperiously upright, with Miss de Bourgh at her side.

Darcy stepped forward with that quiet, grave civility characteristic of him. “Aunt, may I present Mr Bingley, Mr Hurst, Miss Bingley, Mrs Hurst.”

Lady Catherine gave a single, almost imperceptible nod. Mr Bingley bowed with undamaged goodwill. Mr Hurst looked for the refreshment table, and the two sisters inclined, straightened, and found no purchase.

Tea, cake, cold meats, all of it came promptly. Elizabeth poured. Her ladyship watched without comment.

That silence held for the whole of the refreshment. Lady Catherine took her tea and declined the cake with a slight, dismissing motion of her hand, watching Elizabeth’s hands move among the remaining cups as if auditing an account whose total she already knew. Elizabeth found the inspection more wearying than any barb, for a barb could always be answered, while there was no answering a person who merely observed.

Miss Bingley accepted her tea and leaned a little nearer. “You must let me save you all the trouble of attendance, my dear, while we are here. I know the ways of the house so well, and poor Mr Darcy is so easily fatigued by domestic arrangements. One hates to see a new mistress overwhelmed by details that are already familiar to one’s friends.”

“You are very good,” Elizabeth said. “I shall certainly apply to you should I find myself at a loss.”

Across the room, Lady Catherine observed the exchange with the cold, immovable eye of a general watching two junior officers skirmish over a fence. She set her teacup down upon the saucer with a sharp, dry click that instantly silenced the room, her gaze resting on Miss Bingley with a frostiness that made the other woman blink.

It was over the cake that Bingley stood up. “I have news,” he said, “I am engaged to be married. To Miss Lawrence.” He grinned around the table.

“Sir Adam Lawrence, and he is a baronet, you see,” Miss Bingley offered.

Elizabeth’s eyes went to Jane. Her sister set down her cup without a sound, and her face held its serenity with everything in place and nobody turned out. “Allow me to offer you my hearty congratulations on this happy event,” Jane said. “I am very happy for you, Mr Bingley.”

“Charles is fortunate,” said Miss Bingley, “in being connected to the right sort of family.”

Jane held her serenity without effort, and she turned to Georgiana with a question about the music room.

Talk drifted as parlour talk will, to the quiet of Derbyshire and then, because roads run downhill, to Netherfield. Elizabeth leaned a little towards Mr Bingley.

“Do you mean to return to Netherfield, Mr Bingley, now the year is come round again?”