Page 22 of Regrets

Mr. Darcy commented on it. “I admire this new poise I see in you, Georgiana. Remember, though, that you must be cautious as to where confidence and boldness may lead you. Young ladies must be careful!”

Georgiana nodded, but thought no more of it.

The fifteenth of September was the Sabbath; so Mr. Darcy waited until the following day to have the knocker put up on the door. There were not many visitors, as most of the aristocracy had fled Town and removed to their cooler country estates, but those who were still in Town were delighted to know that Mr. Darcy was in residence. Mr. Bingley was among the first of the callers.

“Bingley!” Mr. Darcy welcomed his guest and the two of them clapped one another on the shoulders. Mr. Bingley bowed to Georgiana. “Miss Darcy, it is a delight to see you again! Do I understand correctly that you will be joining us at Netherfield Park?”

Georgiana smiled at her brother’s kind friend. “Yes; I hope you do not mind.”

“Not at all,” Mr. Bingley assured her. “But you are aware that there will be no hostess, are you not?”

Straightening her shoulders, Georgiana said, “Why, I could serve as your hostess. Could I not, Brother?”

“I do not see why not,” Mr. Darcy said. “But this assumes that Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst do not change their minds and decide to join us.”

“Which recalls me to my mission here,” Mr. Bingley said, slapping his forehead. “If my younger sister learns that Darcy will be at Netherfield, she will not be stopped from joining us in the country. I trust that you take my meaning.” He winked at them both.

Georgiana laughed. “I certainly do, and she will not learn of it from me.”

Mr. Bingley looked relieved. “It is not that I wish to deceive my sister, but Darcy here is coming to Netherfield as a favour to me, and I do not wish him to be made uncomfortable.”

“I understand, of course,” Georgiana said, her lips twitching with merriment. “If anyone enquires as to our future plans, I will say that we plan to continue on to Pemberley. It is not a lie, exactly, as eventually that is just what we will do.”

The conversation moved on to the entertainments Mr. Darcy had planned for his sister while they were in London. They had just missed the Bartholomew Fair, but there was still Haymarket Theatre, which offered opera in the summer, and Sadler’s Wells Theatre, which showed plays. And, of course, there was always Bond Street!

“When will you leave for Hertfordshire?” Mr. Darcy asked his guest.

“I told them I would be there just before Michaelmas, but I think now of going a bit earlier, as I am eager to begin my new life. Perhaps the twenty-third or twenty-fourth of September.”

“Send me a message when you leave; if we follow you two days later, will that give you time enough to prepare for our arrival?” Mr. Darcy enquired.

“More than enough time,” Mr. Bingley assured him. “The house is entirely ready to receive us even now; it is, as I told you, fully staffed and furnished.”

“Very good,” Mr. Darcy returned. “I await your message.”

Mr. Bingley’s warning regarding his sisters was timely indeed, as Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst visited Darcy House the very next day, exclaiming over Georgiana and hinting desperately for an invitation to Pemberley. Alas, an invitation was forthcoming.

Chapter Twenty-One

By the time the twenty-third of September arrived, Mr. Bingley was more than ready to leave London. He had been on tenterhooks all of the past week, listening to Mr. Hurst speak wistfully of shooting. Mr. Bingley prayed that the man did not take it into his head to accompany him to Netherfield Park, as it was then likely that Mrs. Hurst would go with her husband, and then of course Caroline would immediately join in, and poor Darcy would be made uncomfortable after all.

But fortune was with Mr. Bingley, and as he climbed into his carriage, his family simply waved him off with reminders to write. He chuckled with glee and pounded his fist on his leg as the carriage drove off.

His valet, Gibbs, smiled at his employer. “It was a near thing more than once, was it not, sir?”

“It certainly was! I owe you thanks, Gibbs, for whispering in Nancy’s ear!” Mr. Bingley said, leaning back against the cushions with a deep sigh of relief.

Nancy was Miss Bingley’s maid, and she had listened in horror to Gibbs’ dire predictions of the filth of the countryside, and the endless work this would cause Nancy. Petticoats six inches deep in mud! Half-boots soiled beyond recognition! Gloves stained by all manner of greenery! Nancy had, inevitably, done her best to drop broad hints to her mistress as to the unsuitability of the country for anyone aspiring to a higher social status.

Mr. Bingley had sent a message to Braddock as to his arrival date, along with funds to purchase any necessities, and the butler had responded with a brief note saying that the kitchen would be fully stocked upon his arrival and that his room was prepared for him.

And Mr. Bingley had also sent a quick note to Darcy, telling him that he was off to Netherfield; Darcy had immediately sent a return note, promising again to join him shortly.

In just half an hour, the carriage had passed through London and was out on the open road. Mr. Bingley rapped on the carriage door, and his coachman obligingly stopped. “Come out, Gibbs,” Mr. Bingley said.

The two men climbed out of the carriage, and Mr. Bingley inhaled sharply. “Take a deep breath, Gibbs! There! Is not the air sweeter already?”

Gibbs obeyed, and agreed that the air was a good deal sweeter. That said, he could not help but notice that there really was a good deal of dirt about, and he would doubtless be spending an inordinate amount of time cleaning his master’s shoes and trousers.