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Chapter Ten: The Clergyman Raises the Alarm

THE KNOCK ON LONGBOURN’S front door had scarcely finished before Hill opened it.

Bingley entered first, surrendered his hat and gloves, and enquired after Miss Bennet before the door had closed behind Darcy and Hurst. Hill assured him that Miss Bennet was downstairs and much improved, which sent him to the drawing room at a pace just restrained enough to avoid running through another gentleman’s house.

Hurst watched him disappear through the doorway. “He endured a whole day without seeing his angel.”

“He complained for most of it.” Darcy handed his hat to Hill and moved away from the pale morning light entering the hall. “His suffering was extensively documented.”

“A man may complain and remain courageous.” Hurst shrugged and then smiled roguishly. “I have always maintained that the two conditions are compatible.”

They followed Bingley into the drawing room, where Mrs Bennet had risen from the central sofa to receive him as if he were a victorious soldier returning with a large inheritance and an urgent desire to distribute it among her daughters. Miss Bennet occupied one of two matching chairs angled towards the fire, no longer wrapped in shawls, though one was folded over the back of her chair in case her mother detected an exposed inch of skin.

“My dear Mr Bingley, what a delightful surprise.” Mrs Bennet advanced on him with both hands extended. “Jane was only this moment speaking of the ball, and I told her that you would certainly call today. A gentleman does not permit an invalid to select a date and then abandon her to the consequences.”

Bingley accepted the accusation without resistance. “I had no intention of abandoning anyone. I would have called yesterday evening, but Darcy objected that three visits to Longbourn in two days might attract comment.”

Mr Bennet sat at a writing table against the farther wall, trimming a quill as he surveyed the newcomers. “In Hertfordshire, three visits attract expectations. Four require a licence.”

Bingley’s colour altered, although he made no attempt to retreat. “Then I shall count more carefully.”

Miss Bennet lowered her eyes to her hands, but a quiet smile appeared. Bingley noticed and forgot every other person in the room until Mrs Bennet directed them to their places.

Bingley took the matching chair opposite Miss Bennet. Darcy chose an armchair near the interior wall, beyond the stripe of sunlight crossing the carpet. Hurst sat at the far end of Mrs Bennet’s sofa, examined the bright patch near his boots, and moved both feet several inches backwards. Mr Bennet observed the adjustment but offered no remark, which concerned Darcy more than a question might have done.

Miss Mary was sitting at the pianoforte, arranging sheets of music, while Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty shared the sofa under the windows, whispering over a list of officers Miss Lydia had apparently begun compiling on the back of an invitation. Mr Collins occupied a straight-backed chair between the entrance and the pianoforte, separated from the others and unusually silent.

Bingley rested his hands on his knees. “Caroline has begun planning in earnest. Louisa has reviewed the supper twice, the musicians have been engaged, and the ballroom floor is to be polished tomorrow. I believe the twenty-sixth was an excellent choice.”

Miss Bennet looked at him with uncertainty. “I have wondered whether it is too soon. Your sisters have so much to arrange, and I should not like my decision to inconvenience them.”

“My sisters consider inconvenience a condition suffered by other people.” Bingley leaned closer, though he maintained enough distance to keep Miss Bennet’s pulse from disturbing his control. “Caroline has already revised the placement of every chair in the ballroom. If we delay, she may begin altering the walls.”

Hurst accepted the cup of tea Hill presented but placed it untouched on the table. “She mentioned removing the eastern doors yesterday.”

Miss Bennet’s concern deepened. “Because of the ball?”

“Because they open in the wrong direction.”

Mr Bennet turned the newly sharpened quill between his fingers. “A serious defect. One wonders how the house has remained standing.”

Mrs Bennet waved away the architectural danger. “The twenty-sixth is perfect. Jane will be recovered, the officers are all invited, and everyone has sufficient time to prepare. Mrs Long has ordered new lace from London, but I am told it will not arrive before the twenty-eighth, which is another reason not to postpone.”

Miss Lydia lifted her list. “Colonel Forster will bring the entire regiment, will he not? Miss Bingley assured us that all the officers were included.”

Bingley turned to her. “Every officer Colonel Forster considers suitable.”

“That had better mean every officer I consider suitable,” Miss Lydia said with a chuckle.

Miss Mary paused while arranging the final sheet of music. “Your standards and Colonel Forster’s may not be identical.”

“They should be. I have met more of them, I am sure.”

Miss Kitty nodded vigorously, lending numerical support where reason had failed.

The conversation moved to music, supper, and the number of dances required to judge an evening successful. Bingley continued speaking chiefly to Miss Bennet, reassuring her whenever another complication arose. Each concern she offered gave him an opportunity to remain near her, and Darcy suspected that the roof might collapse without persuading him to abandon the discussion.

Hill offered tea to Darcy. He declined it and allowed his gaze to settle on Collins.