“Thank you, Dorothy.”
“I made sure to set up a shady spot for the youngest children to rest.” Georgiana beckoned a maid over to assist Dorothy.
“You thought of everything, my friend. I am sure we shall all enjoy the day.”
Elizabeth noted the guards had created a perimeter around the picnic area. They remained vigilant, some facing out whilst others kept their eyes on the guests.
Feeling eyes on her, Elizabeth looked up to find Darcy watching their interaction. He had an endearing, crooked little smile on his face, which immediately disappeared when he noticed her looking.
After spending a few minutes speaking with Georgiana, the younger woman excused herself to see to some details, so Elizabeth approached Darcy.
“Mrs Carrington,” he bowed. “Forgive my not greeting you when you arrived.” His eyes lingered on Elizabeth. “You look beautiful today.”
“In honour of Georgiana’s invitation. That is, the dress, it is only half mourning.” Elizabeth felt heat rise in her cheeks and she bit her tongue to cease her babbling.
He offered a small smile, “Indeed, it suits you very well,”
“Mr Darcy, today is too fine a day for serious discussion, but I wonder if I might seek your advice when we next meet again. Perhaps one morning when Georgiana calls you might accompany her?”
Darcy felt his chest puff out a bit. The very idea this independent, capable woman sought him out to ask for advice or assistance gratified him. He acquiesced immediately saying he would visit soon with Georgiana, depending on his sister’s schedule.
The smile Elizabeth bestowed on him was brighter than sunshine. He grew warm the longer he gazed at her and forced himself to look away. He noticed Miss Bennet moving in Elizabeth’s direction, her face pale.
Behind her he could see Bingley just arriving at their picnic area. He had stopped to greet Georgiana but did not tarry as he continued in Darcy’s direction.
“Jane, are you well?” Elizabeth took her sister’s hand. Before she could reply, Bingley was upon them.
“I believe you met my friend the other day.” Darcy’s voice floated over her shoulder from behind.
“Yes, we did.” She gave a little cough to clear her throat.
Bingley’s smile was just as wide now as it had been when they first met.
Jane’s heart rate had sped up as soon as she saw the gentleman. She sought out Elizabeth hoping her presence would calm her nerves.
Jane edged closer to her sister after offering a brief curtsey. Bingley, ever affable, beamed a smile upon the group. Chatting excitably about the day, the park and the picnic. Her eyes roamed the immediate vicinity seeking a young woman who could be ‘Isabelle’, trying to gather the courage to inquire when his wife would be joining them.
“Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth interrupted, “My sister mentioned your wife, Isabelle, has joined you in town?”Heavens above, Mrs Bennet would have been proud of her.
The look of shock on Bingley’s face was comical, as he stared first at her then to Jane and back again. “Wife? I am not married. That is, I am, or rather, I was.” He stopped, took in a breath and more calmly stated, “Isabelle is my daughter. I thought I mentioned it.”
“Perhaps you did, sir. I apologise if I was inattentive.” Jane spoke softly, but her voice was no longer tight with anxiety.
“To answer your question, Mrs Carrington, my daughter was still napping when I left, her nurse shall bring her as soon as she awakes. It will give me great pleasure to introduce her to you both.”
“How old is she, Mr Bingley?” Elizabeth inquired, giving Jane more time to collect herself.
“She is a little over one year of age, and the cutest little cherub.”
“Forgive me, if I spoke out of turn. Allow me to express my condolences.” Mr Bingley could not have been a widower for very long. Elizabeth hoped she had caused no offense.
“Pray, think nothing of it. We need not speak of it at all.” His turn of phrase made it clear the topic was closed. Then, his countenance lit up with a grin. “There she is now.”
A matronly nurse was walking in their direction holding the hand of an unsteady child, with pale blonde hair. When the girl caught sight of Bingley a mirror image of his smile grew on her face.
“Pop.” She cried. Stamping her feet in a little dance, she held out her arms to her papa. Bingley rushed over to take her in his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder turning her face into his neck.
Seeing the warmth exude from Bingley and the gentle, loving nature of his relationship with his daughter, affected Jane. This was not a charmer, a flirt or a rake. This was a father, who seemed to hold deep affection for his daughter.
