‘That is exactly what I think. Will you come with me?
I should like to repay your hospitality.’
My spirits rose. If I went to Netherfield, then I would have an opportunity of seeing Elizabeth again.
‘When do you intend to go?’ I asked.
‘In about a week. I thought I would send the servants tomorrow, to ready the house.’
‘Yes, I will come.’
He looked pleased.
‘It is almost a year to the day that I took it. I little thought then…’
His voice trailed away, and it was not difficult to guess what direction his thoughts had taken. I said no more, but let him lose himself in day-dreams. Perhaps they will become reality before very long. And my dreams…what of them?
We arrived at Netherfield this afternoon. Bingley declared his intention of riding into Meryton as soon as we arrived, and it was only the onset of rain that made him put his visit off.
Sir William Lucas called this morning, to welcome us back to the neighbourhood.
‘Mr Bingley,’ he said with a low bow, ‘you do us too much honour in returning to our humble neighbourhood. We thought we had not joys enough to hold you and yet here you are, fresh from your triumphs in town, to honour our humble village with your presence. Mr Darcy,’ he said, with a low bow to me. ‘It seems but a moment since we were all taking tea with Lady Catherine in the delightful dining-parlour at Rosings Park. You enjoyed your stay, I trust?’
Enjoyed it? That was hardly the way I would have described my feelings during those turbulent few weeks, but he took my silence to mean that I had.
‘Have you visited your estimable aunt since that time?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I said shortly.
‘I hope to visit my daughter again before very long,’ he said.
He embarked on a rambling speech, extolling the virtues of his daughter’s position. How long he would have gone on if Mr Long had not called I do not know!
When our guests had left, Bingley said: ‘It was after Sir William called last year that Mr Bennet called on us. Do you suppose he will do so again?’
I thought of Mr Bennet’s indolent habits and hesitated.
‘Perhaps I could call on the Bennets even without this civility,’ suggested Bingley.
‘Wait and see whether he calls tomorrow,’ was my advice.
Mr Bennet did not call again yesterday, and this morning, Bingley made up his mind to visit Longbourn.
‘Come with me, Darcy,’ he said.
Telling myself I would go with him so that I could see whether Miss Bennet had any regard for him, I agreed, but my real reason was to see Elizabeth. I was as eager to see her as Bingley was to see her sister, and I was just as apprehensive about it.
We set out. Bingley was silent, and I too was lost in my thoughts, wondering how I should be received. If Elizabeth resented me for being the cause of Lydia’s ruin I could hardly blame her, more particularly because she did not know that I had helped to set matters to rights.
I had been particularly concerned that she should not know. I did not want her gratitude. If she had developed any tender feelings for me I wanted to know they sprang from love, and nothing else.
We arrived. The servant showed us in. I immediately saw Elizabeth drop her gaze, embarrassed, and busy herself with her needlework. What did it mean? I wished I knew. Did it mean she was alive to the awkwardness of the situation, or did it mean that she could not bear to look at me?
‘Why, Mr Bingley!’ cried Mrs Bennet, jumping up with a smile. ‘How delightful to see you at Longbourn again. We have missed you. You quit us in such a hurry last year you did not have time to say goodbye! I hope you will not be thinking of leaving us again so quickly?’
‘No, I hope not,’ said Bingley, looking at Miss Bennet.
I observed her smile, and drop her gaze. She, at least, I could understand, and it was clear that Bingley’s hopes would not be disappointed.
‘And Mr Darcy,’ said Mrs Bennet in an ill-humoured voice, turning to me.
I took no notice of her humour, and I found it difficult to believe that only a few months ago I had thought it a reason for not proposing to Elizabeth. What did it matter if her mother was silly and vulgar? I did not want to marry Mrs Bennet.
I could not take a seat next to Elizabeth, her younger sisters being by, but I asked her how her aunt and uncle did. She replied sensibly, but then turned her attention back to her work.
Outwardly I was calm. Inwardly, I was otherwise, but I could do nothing. I was not close enough to Elizabeth to continue the conversation without it seeming particular, and what could I say to her, under her mother’s eye, that I wanted to say?
To distract my thoughts, I looked at Miss Bennet and wondered how I could not have seen her partiality for Bingley last year. Her feelings for him were there in every gesture, and every look and every smile. Had I blinded myself, wanting Bingley to marry Georgiana? I wondered. I had not thought so at the time, but I realized now that I had.
I glanced again at Elizabeth, wishing I could read her mind.
After a time, she said: ‘Miss Darcy is well, I hope?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ I said, glad to hear the sound of her voice.
There was chance for nothing more. Her mother began talking of Lydia’s wedding. Elizabeth would not look up. Did she know that I had been involved? But no, I am sure she did not. I had sworn the Gardiners to secrecy, and I knew they would not betray me. Her confusion came from the subject, knowing what she does about my relations with Wickham.
‘It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married,’ said Mrs Bennet, a speech that would have revolted me a few months before, but which now left no impression. I care nothing for Mrs Bennet. Let her be the silliest woman in Christendom if she chooses. It will not prevent me marrying Elizabeth, if she will have me.
Mrs Bennet continued to talk of Wickham, saying he had gone into the regulars, and adding: ‘Thank Heaven!
He has some friends, though perhaps not so many as he deserves.’
Elizabeth’s face was a fiery red, and her eyes sparkled with mortification. How I wanted to help her! But how I thought the colour became her.
She did, at last, raise her head and speak.
‘Do you mean to stay in the country, Mr Bingley?’ she asked.
I wished I was Bingley at that moment, so that she had spoken to me. Why did she favour my friend? Why would she not look at me? Did she not wish to? I was in misery.
At last the visit drew to an end. I would have stayed all day if I could, but it was impossible.
‘You will come to dine with us on Tuesday, I hope, Mr Bingley?’ said Mrs Bennet as we rose to leave. She turned cold eyes to me, adding unwelcomingly: ‘And Mr Darcy.’
What did I care for her manner? I was to see Elizabeth again.
The next meeting will surely tell me whether she has any feelings for me, whether she can forgive me the grievous wrongs I have done her family and whether she can love me.
I will be in torment until I know.
‘I thought Miss Bennet looked well last night,’ said Bingley to me this morning.
‘She did.’
‘I thought she looked very well,’ he said a few minutes later.
‘Yes, she did.’
‘And in spirits. She has enjoyed the summer, I suppose,’ he said wistfully.
‘It is to be hoped so. You would not wish her to be unhappy?’
‘No, of course not,’ he replied hastily.
‘I thought she did not look quite so blooming when we went in,’ I said to him.
‘No?’ he asked hopefully.