Since the Bennets could not be expected to move, and since Netherfield was only rented, the problem was solved once Jane and Bingley found a house of their own to buy. They had wisely ignored the suitable houses in Hertfordshire and looked further north, near Lizzy and Darcy. After many months of searching, they had found the perfect house and they had taken up residence there at the end of summer.
The house had at first not been fit for visitors, and afterwards, Elizabeth’s condition had made travelling difficult, so that Elizabeth and Darcy had not yet visited, and Elizabeth was eager to see it.
The coach drove through Derby, a bustling city, and Darcy asked Elizabeth if she would like to stop for some refreshment, but she was eager to arrive. So they travelled on into Nottinghamshire, where the countryside became softer and more smiling. Gone were the moors and instead there were fields, separated from the road by hedgerows, which were covered with glittering spiders’ webs.
The snow gradually disappeared as they moved further south and, as they approached Jane’s new neighbourhood, they saw open fields with a river meandering through.
“We are almost there,” said Elizabeth, her excitement mounting at the thought of seeing Jane again.
The coachman took a wrong turn and had to ask for directions, but they were soon on the right road and turned in between tall gates. They travelled through a deer park until the house came into view. It was an imposing house in the English Renaissance style, its pale stone looking serene in the midday light.
The coach came to a halt outside the front door, which opened immediately, and Bingley came down the steps, hands outstretched to greet them.
“My dear Darcy! And Elizabeth! Upon my honour, I have never seen you looking better. But it is cold out here. Come, let us go inside.”
He asked them about the journey as they went indoors, and they remarked upon the splendour of the house, but there was only one thing Elizabeth really wanted to do and that was to see her sister and her new nephew.
Bingley conducted them to the nursery, where a large fire crackled cheerily in the grate. And there was Jane, looking matronly and happy, by the side of the crib.
“Lizzy! Oh, how glad I am to see you!” she said, jumping up and kissing Lizzy affectionately. “I hoped you would come, but with the weather being against us and your time being so near I did not depend upon it.”
“I could not resist. The opportunity to see you was too tempting, and the chance to see little Charles was irresistible,” said Elizabeth.
She embraced Jane and then bent over the crib, where the newest addition to the Bingley family lay sleeping. His little fists were curled up sweetly, and his expression was contented.
“He has your nose and Bingley’s chin,” said Elizabeth. “I cannot yet tell about his eyes. Oh, Jane, he is beautiful.”
“I think he is the most beautiful baby I have ever seen,” said Jane.
“As our baby has not been born yet, I will not argue with you!” said Elizabeth. “He shall be the most beautiful baby in England until then. Have you decided what to name him?”
“Charles Edward Fitzwilliam Bingley,” said Jane.
“A very large name for a very small baby!” said Darcy, who was looking down at the infant with some interest.
“He will grow into it, never fear,” said Bingley, who looked at his son with adoration.
“I did not expect to find you up,” said Elizabeth to her sister. “I thought you would still be lying in.”
“And so I would be, if we were still at Netherfield, for Mama would have been scandalised otherwise, but here I am mistress in my own home. I felt well enough to rise this morning, although I must admit the birth was very tiring.”
As the conversation seemed to be in danger of moving into realms that Bingley and Darcy would rather know nothing about, the two gentlemen excused themselves, whilst Elizabeth settled down for a long and interesting conversation with Jane about the birth of little Charles.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Bingley as the two men went downstairs.
“I think it is a very fine house,” said Darcy. “You have done well. You remembered to ask about the chimneys, I hope?”
“Oh, the chimneys!” said Bingley. “I did not mean the house, I meant—”
“I know,” said Darcy with a laugh.
“Of course! I had forgotten that Elizabeth has taught you how to tease people! Well, what do you think? Is he not the most handsome baby you have ever seen? Is he not the strongest, the healthiest, the happiest baby it has ever been your pleasure to meet?” he asked as he led Darcy into the drawing-room.
“I have met very few infants and so yes, I can say he is.”
“Darcy!”
“Very well then! I agree with whatever you say. He is a very fine boy. I can say this in all sincerity: he is lucky to have such a father.”
“Do you really think so?” asked Bingley. He beamed whilst looking anxious at the same time. “I was elated when he was born. When I first heard him cry I felt an enormous sense of pride—”
There came a snort from the sofa, where Mr. Hurst, Charles Bingley’s brother-in-law, was lying, apparently asleep.
“Ah, yes,” said Bingley, momentarily diverted. “My family are here. Caroline arrived a month ago to run the household whilst Jane was indisposed, and Louisa arrived with her husband last week. My brother-in-law, as you see, is resting.”
Darcy raised one eyebrow. Mr. Hurst spent most of his life on the sofa and Bingley knew, as well as Darcy, that indolence, not the need for rest, was the reason.
The snort resolved itself into words as Mr. Hurst opened one eye.
“Felt an enormous sense of pride?” he asked. “Thought nothing of the sort. As soon as you heard that cry, you said, ‘I’ve killed them!’ and strode around the room like a man demented, moaning, ‘They’re dead. It’s all my fault!’”
“Nonsense!” said Bingley, but his laugh was a little sheepish.
Darcy smiled, but beneath his smile was a sense of understanding. He had been elated when Elizabeth had told him that she was expecting a child, but he had been anxious too and, try as he might, he could not rid himself of the anxiety. If anything should happen to her…
He was luckily saved from further reflections by the appearance of Caroline, who, together with Louisa, now entered the room.
“Mr. Darcy,” said Caroline warmly.
She had at first been incensed when she had discovered that he meant to marry Elizabeth Bennet, but she had quickly come to realise that unless she put on a glad, or at least a polite, face, she would lose Darcy’s friendship, and she would never be invited to Pemberley.
“You have brought the bad weather with you I fear,” said Caroline.
It was true. The snow, which had been falling lightly in sporadic showers, was now falling thick and fast outside the window. It was melting as it hit the ground, but here and there, patches were settling and the lawns were already white.
“I do hope it will not discommode your mother-in-law,” said Louisa.
“No, indeed,” said Caroline in a droll voice. “It would be a tragedy if she was delayed and did not manage to arrive tomorrow as expected. But where is Elizabeth? You cannot have left her behind?”
“She is upstairs with Jane,” said Darcy.
“It quite reminds me of old times, when Jane was taken ill at Netherfield,” said Bingley. “She had a cold, I remember, which she had caught from riding in the rain. Elizabeth sat with her upstairs and then the two of them came down after dinner.”
“Dear Jane will not be well enough to come downstairs today,” said Caroline. “She needs her rest.”
“She was talking of it only this morning,” Bingley contradicted her.
“My dear Charles, you must not allow it,” said Caroline. “It will be too much for her. I am at your disposal for as long as you need, you know that. I have managed the household not too ill this last month, as I am sure you will agree. Dear Jane need do nothing more than remain in the nursery until she is quite recovered.” She turned to Darcy. “I kept house for Charles before his marriage and as soon as Jane was no longer able to manage affairs, owing to her condition, I arrived at once to care for the household.”