Page 89 of To Win Her Affections

“His arrival this morning, for one,” replied Mr. Darcy. “As I told Bingley, if he was close enough to Netherfield to arrive this morning before visiting hours, he could have pushed through and arrived last night. When I mentioned that to him, he said there were good reasons for his arrival this morning.”

“Such as using his solitude to plan his approach today,” said Elizabeth, laughing with delight.

“I attributed it to his not wishing to endure three miles’ distance from your sister for an entire night. Yet I suspect you have the right of it.”

“So he is still impulsive, but the approach is measured.”

“Well,” drawled Mr. Darcy, “it is a novel approach, is it not? Bingley has not seen your sister for nine months—for him to propose within minutes of returning to her side is the very definition of impulsive, is it not?”

“I shall not say you are incorrect.”

“Has he said anything about his sister or the journey to the north?”

“Nothing at all,” replied Mr. Darcy. “To own the truth, I expect there is little enough to tell. Miss Bingley is displeased, Bingley considered it a duty, and he is more than happy to return to Netherfield.”

A sound caught Elizabeth’s attention, and she looked up to see Jane approaching them. Of Mr. Bingley, there was no sign.

“Jane!” Elizabeth exclaimed, catching her sister in a tight embrace, noting Jane’s inability to speak.

“It seems my friend has worked with remarkable speed,” said Mr. Darcy, dry as Mr. Collins’s attempts at lovemaking.

Jane, who had spoken to Mr. Darcy after his arrival, regarded him through eyes filled with happiness. “Mr. Bingley told me that he had delayed it once already and had no intention of doing so again.”

“Yes, that is Bingley without a doubt.” Mr. Darcy bowed, offering Jane a winsome smile. “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you, Miss Bennet. Might I assume that Bingley has already gone to your father?”

“He has,” said Jane.

“Then we should probably go inside—your father will go there when he has finished tormenting my friend.”

Jane appeared worried, but Elizabeth just laughed. “Come, Jane, you know our father. Papa will feel it is his duty to sport with a man suing for the hand of his most angelic daughter.”

“Especially since he was denied the pleasure when I applied for your hand, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy. The man was impossibly self-satisfied.

“Let us go inside,” said Jane, tugging at Elizabeth’s hand. “I should not wish to provoke our father to tease me—you know he would relish the opportunity to wax eloquent if he had to send for someone to find me.”

“You understand our father well, Jane,” said Elizabeth. “Papa would tease Mr. Bingley about your sudden reluctance.”

“Then by all means, let us render such jesting unnecessary,” said Mr. Darcy. “In his current state, my friend might just fly apart under such pressure.”

Jane threw the gentleman a mock glare. “Take care, Mr. Darcy. You are describing my future husband.”

“Perhaps I am, Miss Bennet. But remember that I have known him for much longer than you have; as a result, I have greater license to sport with him.”

It was no shock when Jane did not respond. Though her sister had as much ability to jest and tease, she did not often indulge. As her focus was on her happiness, she had little attention for teasing.

When they entered the sitting-room, Elizabeth saw her mother’s consternation at Mr. Bingley’s absence.

“Jane!” cried she, almost a shriek. “Where is Mr. Bingley?”

Though Elizabeth had some notion of lamenting his departure, she could not do something so cruel to her mother. Jane, however, was not inclined to inform her of what had happened.

“Mr. Bingley had an errand to perform, Mama. He will be along in a moment.”

Mrs. Bennet’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “An errand? Has he gone to Meryton?”

“No, Mama,” replied Jane, unperturbed. “Do not concern yourself; Mr. Bingley will be along in a few moments.”

If Elizabeth were to guess, she suspected that Jane was not more forthcoming because she wished to avoid her mother’s paroxysms for a few more minutes. Elizabeth could understand the sentiment. Though Mrs. Bennet continued to stare at her eldest, befuddled, Elizabeth drew Mr. Darcy to a nearby sofa while Jane sat close to her mother, answering a few more appeals with an insufficient measure of clarity, such that Mrs. Bennet desisted a short time later, frustrated. By contrast, the younger girls were whispering and glancing around the room to the extent that Elizabeth suspected they had made a few educated guesses.