“I am not accustomed to seeking amusement in such quarters,” she replied, though her tone suggested she had already resolved upon it.
Mrs. Hurst’s response was not verbal. Her gaze moved briefly toward the window, then back again, accompanied by the slightest narrowing of her eyes. The gesture passed quickly, but Darcy observed it.
It struck him as unusual. The sisters rarely displayed even the appearance of disagreement. Their inclinations tended toward unity, or at least toward the appearance of it. That Mrs. Hurst should allow such a reaction, however subtle, suggested a divergence not often made visible.
Bingley continued, untroubled. “You will find the inhabitants very agreeable.”
Miss Bingley smiled. “I shall endeavor to appreciate them.”
Her attention shifted. “Mr. Darcy,” she said, “you must accompany us. I cannot think how we are to judge the place without your assistance.”
Darcy had anticipated the request. “I am engaged this morning.”
“With what?” she asked.
“Correspondence.” It was not an untruth. He had a small stack of letters awaiting his attention. The correspondence could be delayed, but it provided an adequate excuse to avoid going out with Miss Bingley, thus inflating her sense of self-importance.
Her smile remained, though its warmth altered. “Surely that may be delayed.”
“My sister expects a reply.”
At the mention of Georgiana, Miss Bingley’s expression shifted again, though she recovered quickly. “Miss Darcy remains in London?”
“She does.”
“How fortunate she is,” Miss Bingley said, her tone light, though the meaning beneath it carried a sharper edge.
Darcy made no reply. Georgiana’s most recent letter still lay upon his desk, though he had read it several times. Her words were deliberate; her meaning was perfectly clear. She preferred London. More specifically, she had no desire to be at Netherfield.
Miss Bingley’s attentions, offered freely and with unmistakable purpose, had not been welcomed with equal ease. Georgiana, whose nature tended toward gentleness, seldom expressed her discomfort so directly. When she did, Darcy paid close attention.
He had never pressed her to come. There was no reason to do so.
Miss Bingley, unaware of the depth of that decision, gave a graceful nod. “We shall miss having your company, sir.”
Breakfast continued without interruption. Bingley spoke of his steward, of accounts to be reviewed and improvements to be considered. Mrs. Hurst listened with mild interest. Mr. Hurst remained occupied.
Miss Bingley contributed where she chose, though her attention returned more than once to Darcy, as though to confirm that his resolution remained unchanged.
It did.
When the meal concluded, the party dispersed. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst departed together, their carriage prepared with efficiency that suggested long familiarity with such arrangements. Mr. Hurst withdrew, his intentions clearly directed toward rest.
Bingley excused himself to attend to business.
Darcy remained at the table for but a few moments before he returned to his chambers. The room, when he entered it, held the stillness he had sought at breakfast. The desk stood as he had left it, the letters arranged in orderly fashion, the morning light falling across the surface in a manner that invited attention.
He seated himself and reached for the first.
Georgiana’s hand was instantly recognizable—neat, controlled, each line evenly spaced, each word carefully chosen. He knew it almost by heart now. She wrote of their aunt anduncle, of her lessons, of her music. There was no complaint, no embellishment, no attempt to draw his concern.
The absence of certain topics spoke as clearly as their presence. She did not mention Miss Bingley, nor did she ask after his activities in Hertfordshire.
Darcy reviewed the words, and then he took up his pen.
His reply was longer than his usual. He wrote of Netherfield, of Bingley’s satisfaction, of the surrounding countryside. The description remained general; there was no need to dwell upon particulars that might prompt further questions. He assured her of his regard, of his expectation that she should remain where she was most comfortable.
The letter concluded with his usual expressions of affection. He set it aside.
