CHAPTERONE
“Bingley, it is good to see you,” Fitzwilliam Darcy said with genuine pleasure. He had been writing to his sister, who was presently in Worcestershire with their aunt and uncle, when the butler announced Charles Bingley’s arrival. It was an easy matter to set aside his task to spend half an hour or so visiting his good friend.
Once they were seated and Darcy had poured a glass of wine for his guest, he said, “Your business did not keep you from town long.”
Bingley grinned. He seemed to be a perpetually happy man, which Darcy found refreshing, since he often felt weighed down by duty. That had been especially true this last month. Bingley’s good cheer had won him many friends, and Darcy was proud to be amongst them, even if he did wonder how they—who were so different in temperament—managed to maintain their connexion.
“I concluded it as quickly as possible. Really, it was done in so short a time, I am not entirely convinced it happened! You might say I was impulsive, but I leased an estate.”
Darcy took a moment to overcome his initial shock, which he did his best to mask. It was not his business to judge his friend, though he was often taken aback by how quickly Bingley leapt into new situations. “I know you were considering such a step, but I thought you had decided to put it off for a year or two.”
“So I had.” Bingley added emphasis to his statement by nodding vigorously. “But then I heard about this place. It is called Netherfield Park, and it is in Hertfordshire—an easy distance from town, which is what convinced me to go see it. It is delightful, and I saw no reason not to take it. Thus, I did.”
“Well, I offer my congratulations.” With effort, Darcy shook off his surprise. “You must excuse me. I had no expectation of hearing such a thing from you this afternoon. It is the second time you have surprised me of late.” The previous occasion had been when Bingley had taken a house in town, temporarily giving up his rooms at the Albany. His eldest sister and her husband had gone into the country to visit their family, and Miss Bingley, who usually lived with them, did not go with them for some reason Darcy could not recall. Bingley had decided to lease a town house and brought his sister to live with him. “Tell me about it. When do you take possession?”
“I said we could consider the agreement to start at Michaelmas, even though it has already passed.Thatis how excited I am about finding an estate.”
It was the second of October, making it a bit of an exaggeration to suggest he had made a great concession, but Darcy did not remark on it.
“The house is in good condition,” Bingley said, “and I intend to go down again in a week or two. I hope you will come with me. I should say, us. Caroline will be there, of course, to keep house for me. I could use your assistance. You know this managing an estate business is unfamiliar to me.”
Bingley’s manner of speech displayed no anxiety about taking on this new role, or even any particular doubt that Darcy would accept his invitation. When he did not immediately respond, Bingley continued.
“You do not need to go to Pemberley, do you? You just arrived in town last week. Have you anything in particular keeping you here?”
Drawing out the first word, Darcy said, “No, and no. I shall be pleased to join you. Will you ask anyone else?” He was only in town because his uncle, the Earl of Romsley, insisted it would be better if he acted in accordance with his plans before the horrid events at Ramsgate. Darcy ought to do nothing that might raise suspicions, the earl argued, and Darcy had, with reluctance, agreed with him.
“Excellent! That is just what I hoped to hear. Louisa and Hurst will come a little later. They remain in the country another few weeks. I shall invite some friends. It will be nothing for them to come for a few days, given the easy distance to town.Youare the one I particularly want there, and I hope you will stay for longer than a week or two!”
This elicited a brief smile. “Thank you, Bingley. I shall be glad to do whatever I can to assist you.”
“Excellent,” Bingley said again. “Caroline would be ecstatic if Miss Darcy came too.” He laughed and looked a little embarrassed, a trace of pink colouring his cheeks. “We both would be.”
“Unfortunately, she cannot. She is with my aunt and uncle in Worcestershire until we meet for Christmas.” It truly was regrettable in Darcy’s view. He thought it might do Georgiana good to be with a friend at such a difficult time. His preference was to keep his sister with him, or, if being at Romsley Hall was what she wanted, to stay there himself. In addition to his uncle’s argument, Lady Romsley all but forced him to leave, claiming his sister needed an affectionate aunt rather than either of her guardians—the other being Colonel Fitzwilliam, his cousin and the countess’s second son. Georgiana, according to the countess, was afraid they hated her. When Darcy had exclaimed that he never would, his aunt had said, “Of course not, but the poor girl does not believe it at the moment. She hates herself for what she did, almost eloping with that rascal, and, therefore, everyone else must too.”
Then again, Darcy thought, if Georgiana did go to Bingley’s new estate with him, she might be tempted to share more than she should. He did not wish anyone, the Bingleys most of all, to know about Ramsgate.They are everything good, but it might change how they view her…and me.
The smile fell from Bingley’s countenance momentarily. “Oh. That is disappointing. Well, we shall have a grand time regardless. I must get back to Caroline. She will have a million enquiries to make of me. You cannot imagine how enthusiastic she is to be the mistress of a country estate.” He drained his glass and stood.
After saying their adieus, Darcy returned to the sofa. His legs were crossed, the top one swinging, and he stared out the open window, although he did not take in the view. He was worried about his sister, despite his aunt’s reports that she was doing well. Lady Romsley had mentioned him spending a week or fortnight in Worcestershire before taking Georgiana to Pemberley after Christmas. She wrote:
This summer has shown that it is time for you to marry. You need a wife, a lady to keep you company and assist at your estate. I know you are more than capable of managing on your own, yet a helpmeet would be just that—a help. Georgiana needs a sister, a sympathetic, intelligent sort who will prevent such mishaps from recurring and be by her side when she enters society.
There were several young women she wanted him to meet, ones who would be appropriate matches. Lady Romsley would parade them in front of him like wares at a haberdashery. He need only point and say, “I shall have that one, I suppose.” It was so cold and impersonal. Darcy had not thought much about matrimony in the past, but the subject had been on his mind a great deal in the last six or seven weeks. It would not do to make a hasty decision, but at his time of life, he should take the matter seriously. He was seven-and-twenty, and he agreed it would be good for Georgiana to have an older sister, someone in whom both of them could put their trust. Yet, rather than purposely seek out a lady—or, Heaven forbid, allow his aunt to select one for him—he would like to simply meet a lady, find her interesting, and through getting to know her, determine whether they would suit as husband and wife.
Bingley likely would be pleased if Darcy took an interest in his sister, but he never pressed the issue. That was just as well. Darcy distanced himself from other friends when they turned every meeting into an occasion to promote their sisters or cousins. Miss Bingley was unobjectionable, which was the kindest thing he could say about her. She was well-educated in the way all ladies were, pretty, possessed the usual accomplishments, and had a fine fortune. While Bingley was a good friend of some three years, his family did not have much by way of connexions, which was an important consideration when Darcy was contemplating his future wife. The family’s social standing had improved when their sister married. Darcy grimaced. He held little esteem for her husband, Hurst, even though his father was Lord Peters. Darcy had told Bingley the reasons for his dislike—Hurst was known to drink too much and bet too high—but Bingley only shrugged and insisted it was what his sister wanted. It was none of Darcy’s affair, in the end. She was not his sister, and he did not have to call the man brother.
His gaze moved about the room, not really seeing anything. Perhaps he should consider Miss Bingley. Knowing her as he did, there would be few surprises, and more importantly, few disappointments when she did not live up to his expectations, ones formed by recklessly choosing a wife because he believed they were in love. Nine times out of ten, it was nothing but infatuation. How many men and ladies of his acquaintance were bound for life to someone they once thought they loved, but in truth barely tolerated? Georgiana liked Miss Bingley, and her company was agreeable enough. Darcy could not bear to live a life in which he avoided his wife because he found her presence distasteful.
“Well, I shall not rush into any decisions about Caroline Bingley or any lady.”
His hands slapped his thighs as he stood and returned to his letter writing.
CHAPTERTWO
Caroline Bingley, age twenty and, by her own estimation, a very pretty, well-dressed lady, paced the bright drawing room, checking the mantel clock every few minutes, certain a greater interval had elapsed since the last time she had looked at the instrument.
“How long can it take?” she muttered, even though no one was there to hear her. “If Charles decided to go to his club or some such thing, I will strangle him! Perhaps he remains with Mr Darcy. If so, I shall not complain. Whatever we must do—”
