Chapter 1
Early December...
Elizabeth walked briskly towards Netherfield and broke into a trot down the hill, enjoying the scrunching of frosty ground beneath her feet. It was a blessed relief to escape the carriage, to close its door, rather firmly, on her mother's irrepressible twittering. After two days of inclement weather that had confined them all to the house, Mrs. Bennet had fallen well behind schedule with her social calls and was now bustling about the county, an unabashed ambassador of her own good fortune. In the last fortnight she had inflicted three and twenty families of her close acquaintance with a lengthy prologue to the forthcoming nuptials, but with only one call remaining, Elizabeth had caught sight of Netherfield through the carriage window, and immediately rebelled.
Now, carefully picking her way along a muddy path through the woods, she approached a small gate that opened onto Mr. Bingley's grounds. She saw with delight her fiancé walking not far off on the other side of the fence, and in response to her greeting he came to meet her. The ground between them was dirty and treacherous, and obstructed in one place by a fallen tree, a casualty to the gales of the previous night. It was on opposite sides of this tree that they drew to a halt
"Good afternoon, Miss Bennet," he bowed, with mock formality.
"Mr. Darcy," she performed her best curtsy. "You find me in an awkward spot sir; if I climb over this tree and jump down into the mud, I'm afraid that I will spoil my gown."
"That would be a risk, I agree. So it is lucky," he added rather cheerfully, "that I am here to assist you."
"Indeed it is!" she smiled, stepping forwards - but he was not finished.
"I am surprised by your circumspection. I believe we had the pleasure of receiving you here last year in a less than pristine state, and you appeared to suffer no embarrassment then. "
"I thought only of my sister; I had little desire to please anyone else."
She had said too much.
"And that is no longer the case?" He smiled. "Is there someone in particular, a gentleman perhaps, whom you desire to please?"
It was evident that whether she desired it or not, the deed had been done; the gentleman in question was already very well pleased.
"Perhaps you shall meet him some day," she laughed, and then, as he was clearly reaping much greater enjoyment from this exchange than she, and she was of no mind to be the object of teasing, she pulled herself up and resolutely prepared to jump.
"Please, allow me," he said, stepping in front of her, and placing his hands on her waist, he swept her through the air and set her down on firmer ground. There he did not release her, only regarded her with amusement and more than a little curiosity.
She exclaimed at the presumption. "Someone will see us!" she hissed, glancing towards the distant windows of Netherfield. His response was merely to draw her closer.
"With barely a week till we are man and wife," he murmured, "let them look."
As the distance between them slowly diminished from one of intimacy to nothing at all, she watched the ribbon of her bonnet trail and fall within the folds of his coat, and quietly removed a small speck of lint from his lapel. She was trying to be severe, for such boldness was of course unpardonable, and if left unchecked might soon lapse into disrespect - but she was not disposed to resist. His hands had crept around her (did he think that she had not noticed?), and in anticipating their movements she was surprised once again, this time by the heightened rhythm of her pulse. He was looking down at her with a softer, more pensive expression, and the warm familiarity of his gaze rendered her speechless. He drew back a ringlet of hair from her face, but did nothing more, and it was at this unprompted hesitation, this implicit regard for her feelings, that her consent was won. With a smile she reached up, and softly kissed him.
His reward was captivating, and with permission to proceed thus granted, his lips met again with hers, fleetingly at first, and with a certain polite restraint, but having at last sought this introduction, Mr. Darcy discovered to his satisfaction that he was very well equipped to recommend himself, and that his impatience to further the acquaintance was warmly reciprocated. Nonetheless, he had been anticipating this moment for longer than he cared to admit, and now that it was upon him, he was of no mind to squander his good fortune. He carried on with growing assurance, but his more primal impulses were successfully held at bay by acting solely to further Elizabeth's happiness, and convey to her his most respectful and affectionate sentiments.
Until, that is, she bit lightly upon his lip, twisted her fingers through his hair, and drew him into a kiss that left no doubt as to her inclinations, and a marked repletion of air in his lungs. As if to needlessly emphasise the point, an uninvited guest then meandered its way into his mouth. He was breathless, but delighted. His bride-to-be clearly knew what she was about. How? - What had she been reading?
A surging began within him - glorious, but ill omened. Discipline was required, and a savage pinch to enforce it, but at every attempt he found that his hands were full of Elizabeth. Outright disaster nearly befell him when his fingers, which had somehow manoeuvred inside her coat, halted perilously near to a small, suspicious convexity in the muslin of her gown. He could only surmise it to be a nipple, a charming but somewhat premature discovery, the tweaking of which would be highly injudicious at this embryonic stage of their lovemaking.
He began to extract his wayward appendage, but all resolve was crippled by a low and tantalising moan from Elizabeth, an opposing vote to which there could be no convincing rejoinder. Obediently, he replaced his hand - whereupon she covered it with her own, the better to demonstrate the correct form of manipulation. At this he might have begged to differ - he was quite overflowing with perfectly excellent ideas of his own, and was rather accustomed to having his own way - but he was distracted. Unrest had been detected in other quarters, stirrings, and as she applied gentle suction to his lower lip, and peeped at him flirtatiously from beneath her fine, dark lashes, he realised with dismay that he had become excessively lively in other places.
He pulled away abruptly, and stared at her, not in his habitually complacent manner, but as a seething wreck of incredulity, lust and indignation. This was not what he had imagined; it was much better and slightly worse, heated, spontaneous and woefully disorganised. His meticulous planning had been hurled into disarray, and there remained little recourse for a man whose passion existed in one of two states - repressed to a gentle simmer when in company, or unleashed at boiling point behind a locked and bolted door.
She was regarding him with amusement and more than a little curiosity. Her face was glowing with warmth, her eyes were brightened by exercise, and her hair was...what was the word? -Blowsy.
Divided between desire to wipe the smile from her face, rumple her hair past all recovery, and devour her like an animal, and doubt as to the occasion's justifying his doing so, he cursed silently. Then he took her face between his hands and kissed her with a single-mindedness that sped the first of his wishes to fulfillment, and proved that she had seriously underestimated her adversary. Her eyes widened with surprise, her mirth was extinguished, and his victory, however small, was soothing.
But he had been rash. Several heavy locks of hair tumbled down her back, and there it was, that look - almost wild, with a hint of "country-town indifference to decorum" that, although tempered in company, held promise of wondrous things to come in the marriage bed. He could hardly keep his countenance. She was luscious, and well nigh irresistible.
He fled from the sight of her, precluding his third wish by retreating to the pale silken skin of her neck, where he sampled but did not devour. He heeded not the fingers that stole beneath his waistcoat and the seductive easing of shirtfront from trousers, and if he did tense at the cool sensation of a hand traversing his stomach and creeping around his waist - he trusted there was no need to blush - he nevertheless remained calm, merely drawing the dainty little lobe of her ear between his teeth, and toying with it gently.
At last, with a final wriggle under the many layers of his apparel, she reached his chest, and was clearly much pleased by what she found there, for there she chose to remain. Her caresses were beguiling; and they could not be ignored. He ceased all movement, simply holding her close, breathing, slowly and deeply.
Respiration ...he told himself...that biological imperative, which - unlike certain others - can safely be enjoyed in public venues, such as the theatre, a dinner party, the gentlemen's club, or in the garden of a friend. Steady ... rhythmic. In. Out.
Absently, he kissed her hair, her brow, her cheek. Before long he found himself gazing at her face, and there he encountered a look that startled him from reverie, a look of self-congratulation such as he had never seen before in the countenance of a woman, all the more alluring for its peculiarity. As her exploration progressed, of those parts of him within reach, it seemed that with every additional inch, so grew the smirk on her face. She could not have expressed her approval of his person more eloquently had she waggled her eyebrows at him and licked her lips. Her manners were certainly not those of the fashionable world.
As if she had read his thoughts, she caught his eye, and the faintest blush coloured her cheeks before she resumed, with a playful air and undisguised satisfaction. He was caught, ensnared, utterly at her mercy, and he would at that moment at a word from her, have done anything to give her pleasure. He felt no unease in his predicament.
So he kissed her again, his good intentions scorned, obliterated, and forgotten. Determined to know more of her, for one wild moment, despite the frosty air and lack of shrubbery, he was convinced he must know her biblically - and then a soft chuckle fell into his ear, followed closely by another, and her hold on him diminished. She rested her head against his chest, and was still.
All was quiet, but for the thudding in his head. When at last he spoke, his voice was weary and dejected.
"Miss Bennet. You are ... bothering me," he said.
"Am I sir?" she replied faintly. "You do appear to be somewhat ... agitated."
There was a pause.
"I had not expected this of you."
"Then you have shown a disappointing lack of foresight," she smiled, and her lips brushed consolingly against the line of his jaw.
He cleared his throat, and breathed in and out deeply.
"Why did you laugh at me?"
"I did not laugh at you."
"Then why did you laugh?"
"Because I was happy."
"So was I, but I felt no urge to laugh. "
"Because you do not laugh when you are happy. You are Mr. Darcy."
"Perhaps. But there are many kinds of happiness. This was not the laughing kind."
She conceded, and looked at him more seriously. "I was also laughing at the situation in which we have placed ourselves - it would be folly to continue. And we will drive one another to distraction."
Mr. Darcy was already distracted. He was meditating on the very great pleasure that a pair of rhododendron bushes in the arbour of Bingley's garden might bestow.
She tucked his shirt in carefully, smoothing out the wrinkles and straightening his waistcoat. Then she slid her arms around his waist, and standing on tiptoe, placed a little kiss on the creases of his frown.
Grudgingly, he smiled.
"You are perfectly right, of course. Although your timing might be considered somewhat hasty."
At least, he reflected, he was now presented with an opportunity to settle a question he had been debating upon since last Michaelmas - rather infantile perhaps, and a meagre recompense for his disappointment, but certainly better than nothing. He drew her coat aside a little, and studied its contents. Then, as if prepared to be amused, he set off on a quest over the great expanse of her skirts, coursing the undulating peaks and inclines en route to her bottom - the object of his curiosity, of size and nature to be determined.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, rested quietly in his arms. She had experienced somewhat of a revelation, and for the moment was content. She looked up at him, the man she was to marry, the sight of him so dearly familiar, and acknowledged feelings that she had long ignored.
Her fingers had moved over him, like a first lesson on an instrument of exceptional quality, but where others would have demanded years of practise and instruction, she had quickly achieved, judging from the quality of sounds emitted from him, a superior execution she would not have thought possible. She smiled to herself. Her vanity was taking an epicurean turn. It declared that her performance was pleasing, and quite arguably capital. And such was the pleasure of playing upon him, that she might feel persuaded to heed some long disregarded advice.
``Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss, if she practised more ... She has a very good notion of fingering."
He was magnificent. She could hardly believe her good fortune. No one admitted to this privilege, could think anything wanting.
"Caroline? What is it?" Mr. Bingley approached the window, even as his distraught sister fled from it and quitted the room, slamming the door emphatically behind her. He soon spied the cause of her distress.
"Good God!" he chuckled. "Is that Darcy?" He stepped forward for a better view, and clonked his nose on the window.
"What is it Charles?" said Mrs. Hurst, joining him. "Oh! I see." She threw a baleful look in the direction of Mr. Hurst, who appeared to be reading the newspaper (but was in actual fact, as she knew full well, engrossed in the sporting column planning his betting for the coming fortnight), and then settled herself on the window seat to watch the performance. She would rather die than kiss her husband, and as she was abominably bad at keeping secrets, to take a lover was out of the question. To observe Mr. Darcy was the most she could hope for, and therefore highly agreeable. She wanted only her opera glasses. Charles on the other hand, seemed to think it all a very good joke, and as if to mark the occasion, ordered some tea.
And so, though they neither of them performed to strangers, for a short time Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy unknowingly entertained their friends. The rapt attention of their audience was sadly ended by a tumultuous crash from a window alcove in the next room, where a maid was paying more heed to the work of Cupid than to her own, and had dusted an entire family of porcelain ducks out of the china cabinet and onto the floor.
"Where is my bonnet?" Elizabeth whispered.
"In the mud," he replied softly.
"Oh."
"And ... Mm."
"Yes?"
"In my haste ... I may have torn a button from your coat." He most certainly had, and moreover, had taken shameless advantage of the access gained. "Forgive me."
"I shall not," she breathed unevenly, the December air chilling his warm kisses from her neck.
A muffled "Hm?" rose from somewhere about her collarbone.
"To be forgiven you must first repent."
"But I cannot repent if I do not care." He looked up with amusement. "Disguise of every sort is my ... - I will buy you a new coat."
"No," replied she. "You will find the button - that will be quite sufficient, I thank you."
He was incredulous, and a trifle irked, at the perverse enjoyment she would derive from watching her illustrious fiancé poking around in the muck for a worthless button, but in fact the button was easily retrieved, being large and blue, and the only vexation to be borne with was the dirt acquired beneath his neat fingernails. His reward, on the other hand, was in pointing out the unfortunate state of her boots, for in the throes of passion she had stepped backwards rather heavily into the mud.
"Oh Lord!" she cried, lifting her skirts hastily.
It was rather too late for courtesy, so he looked at her legs with unashamed curiosity.
"And I am to be mistress of Pemberley!"
"In that case you will be needing this," he returned her button consolingly, and offered her his arm. "Perhaps we should go into the house?"
Elizabeth's visit was brief, for her mother arrived before long, as arranged, to carry her home, where she and Jane were to dress before returning to Netherfield to keep their dinner engagement.
The evening passed quite merrily. Miss Bingley, professing illness, had retired to her room, and the whole party felt her absence with relief, especially Mr. Hurst, who required an even number of participants for the evening's card game. Even Mrs. Hurst had little regret, for this evening she was in no humour to nurse her sister's wounded feelings. With judgment unimpaired by jealousy or conceit, she had at last accepted what her sister would not; that Mr. Darcy did not admire Caroline, and that all their schemes and attentions to him had been fruitless.
Louisa was not a stupid woman, despite her imprudent choice of husband, and she desired, above all, prestige for herself and for her family. In that respect her marriage had failed her, for her husband had subsequently reserved his fashionable and affluent acquaintance only for drinking and gambling at his club, and his determination to avoid other social engagements had been insurmountable. Forced to reconsider, the dissatisfaction that her marriage had instilled had at times been alleviated in aiding her sister's attempts to win Mr. Darcy's regard. In this, her life had at least had a purpose, her hopes an avenue. Upon his engagement to Elizabeth Bennet however, she had been forced to concede. Disappointed, her feelings had been soothed almost at once, for she realised that her brother's connection to Mr. Darcy through the Bennet family would be almost as beneficial to her cause as if Caroline's designs had been successful. With the right to visit more frequently at Pemberley, her own ambitions might yet be attained.
Her most immediate concern, therefore, was to find a means of whiling away the long dull evenings with her husband, and happily, diversion was afforded in plenty by the present company. It had not gone unnoticed by her that Mr. Darcy had been in much improved humour of late, particularly when his fiancée was present. In fact, in the last few weeks, he had read only three books, she was certain of it.
That evening, Darcy's cheer was such that he exerted himself so far as to beat Mr. Hurst quite resoundingly at cards, and remarkably, to persuade Mr. Bingley to sing a duet with Elizabeth, Mrs. Hurst accompanying. The performance was of a quite incomparable standard. Mr. Bingley's voice was strong and his execution eager, but his fondness of music did not counteract his unreliable sense of rhythm, and his pitch wandered unpredictably throughout the song. The ladies made futile attempts to compensate, Mr. Bingley was pitifully aware that something (he knew not what) was amiss, and the audience was enthralled. Poor Jane struggled for composure until her eyes met Mr. Darcy's, and caught off-guard by his very evident amusement, she giggled, Elizabeth laughed and the others followed.
Their mirth startled Mr. Hurst from slumber, and resounded in the farthest corners of the house. Caroline could only fling her fashion periodical at the door of her room and blow her nose petulantly into an exquisite Valenciennes lace-trimmed handkerchief.
"Well, Darcy, I believe I have you to thank, for exposing me to such humiliation in my own home," cried a red-faced Mr. Bingley. "I promise you, I will have my revenge!"
Mr. Darcy's perfect unconcern only provoked him further.
"But I will not attempt to persuade you to sing - I know you would not be so easily convinced to make an ass of yourself as I have been! It is rare indeed, that we have any occasion to laugh at you!"
He paused, observing Mr. Darcy's now somewhat perplexed expression, and Elizabeth and Jane, apparently deep in conversation with his sister, before continuing in a lower tone.
"Although I might perhaps cite an incident this afternoon as an example, of some rather diverting activity beside a fallen tree."
At this Mr. Darcy stiffened in surprise, but Bingley's triumph was quickly overthrown by dismay - for before him stood Elizabeth.
"What can you mean sir?" she smiled. "Forgive me, but there must be some mistake. I am sure that Mr. Darcy's behaviour today has been beyond recrimination, and to my mind, quite satisfactory!"
Bingley's mortification was relieved by a footman's announcement that the carriage was awaiting them. Making their way outside, they said their goodbyes, the parting of the conspirators accompanied by much self-satisfied smirking and one escaped giggle.
"Do not laugh too soon, Elizabeth," said Mr. Darcy, handing her up into the carriage. "Remember, you promised to ride with me tomorrow!" and he quickly closed the door on her horror-stricken face.
Chapter 2: Sir Darcy Saves the Day
In which:
- Mr. Darcy is sensitive and funny
- Mr. Darcy is admired by lots of jealous ladies
- Mr. Darcy is a Knight in Shining Armour (apart from the armour obviously)
- Mr. Darcy is a bit naughty (there's a running theme - did you spot it?)
- Oh, and Elizabeth's in it too...
To Elizabeth's dismay, the next day dawned with a clear sky, mild and sunny, with not a speck of a rain cloud in sight.
"There Lizzy, you shall have a fine morning riding with Mr. Darcy!"
Her mother joined her at the window for earnest scrutiny of the horizon.
"Now do take care to wrap up warmly; it would be most vexing if you were to catch cold, and be sniffling and sneezing on Saturday! The mistress of Pemberley, puffy and swollen nosed on her wedding day - what a beginning that would be! Mr. Darcy might have second thoughts and run off in fright to see such a creature approaching the altar! But you may take comfort Lizzy that few will notice you, for I have no doubt that most eyes will be on Jane; she is quite charming in her gown, so you must not upset yourself if you are overlooked a little; only think of the beautiful gowns you will have as mistress of Pemberley and how well you will look in them; Jane's will be nothing to yours you know!"
Elizabeth expressed a sudden desire to wait outside.
Nelly, the family's horse, had already been led round from the stable, looking, if such is possible for a horse, as pessimistic as her mistress. There was little opportunity for apprehension to build however, for within a couple of minutes the sound of horses' hooves was heard and Mr. Darcy appeared on his proud black stallion, leading, to Elizabeth's dismay, another rider-less horse bearing an elegant side-saddle.
"Oh!" she said weakly.
Seeing her stricken face, he dismounted and took her hand in his own. "I thought we might leave the poor old creature in peace today - she is rather too fractious and toil worn for our purposes. Our company might prove to be a little trying on her nerves, don't you think?"
A sharp intake of breath was heard from the front doorway of the house. Elizabeth rolled her eyes before turning to answer.
"Mr. Darcy is referring to Nelly, Mama!"
"Oh yes, I know!" tittered Mrs. Bennet, with a doubtful glance at Mr. Darcy. He bowed, and said nothing.
"A horse of uncertain temper with an inexperienced rider is an inadvisable combination Elizabeth." He paused before adding, "She is a rather discontented old creature...as fat as a pig. Let her rest."
Elizabeth felt that he was being rather harsh, and looked at him suspiciously.
"Her company would be more than flesh and blood can bear," he added, his expression impenetrable.
"Perhaps you are right," she replied with haste. "Where did you find her?"
"I had her brought here from London. Her name is Carrie; she was Georgiana's first horse. I believe she was named after an acquaintance of ours," he lowered his voice, "due to a certain physical resemblance...about the nose, I think." He patted Carrie's snout, and the animal nuzzled against him adoringly. With a sidelong look, he saw that his efforts had been rewarded; Elizabeth was astonished. "My sister is perhaps neither so charitable, nor so unobservant as you may have thought."
Elizabeth was delighted to learn that the responsibility of mocking Miss Bingley need not fall to her alone, and much cheered, she informed the stable boy that Nelly would not be required. She then allowed Mr. Darcy to help her up into Carrie's saddle. Mindful of her feelings, he offered only a few carefully chosen words of instruction, and they proceeded slowly towards the gates.
"Lizzy!"
Mrs. Bennet had recovered, and rushed forward all aflutter. "I have just now remembered that I told Mrs. Long and Mrs. Andrews and Mrs. Ingram that you will be out this morning, so you must ride through Meryton if you can, and return by the same route to be sure you are seen!"
"Yes, Mama!" said Elizabeth. The riders simultaneously broke into a trot, and passed quickly out through the gates.
By the time they reached the village, Elizabeth was surprised to find that she was enjoying the experience tolerably well; her horse was quietly responsive to her instructions, and her companion's obvious enjoyment was infectious. She was pleased to greet friends and neighbours, and was pleasantly conscious of the admiring looks and self-conscious giggles of some of Meryton's ladies as they watched Mr. Darcy's progress down the street. Now that all of Wickham's untruths had been exposed, and Mr. Darcy had been so good as to choose a wife from amongst the Hertfordshire ladies, he was as popular as Mr. Bingley himself, assisted of course by his handsome person and his much talked of wealth. The man himself tolerated his popularity with great fortitude, and if the attentions of some of the village's more mature ladies (of an age to know better) did turn his stomach, he concealed it admirably well, with Elizabeth only occasionally hearing him muttering about it under his breath.
At length they began their journey back to Longbourn, observing with some anxiety that the wind had picked up unexpectedly, and that ominous clouds were fast approaching. They proceeded as briskly as Elizabeth's confidence would allow, but after only a few moments thunder was heard, and soon afterwards rain began to fall. With only a short distance to their destination they were not overly concerned, until disaster befell them at a crossroads. They had paused to allow a speeding carriage to pass by, but without warning it turned the corner and hurtled towards them, their presence obscured by the murky conditions and the now driving rain. Elizabeth was unable to control her startled horse, and it reared up in fear, jerking away from the road, and stumbling across the roadside ditch into the uneven ground beyond. She was dimly aware that a firm hand was all that was required to control the frightened animal, but she could only cling tightly to its neck as it lurched unsteadily forward.
Mr. Darcy drew alongside, attempting unsuccessfully to catch the flapping reins. Her grip was failing, but even as she felt herself starting to slip, his arm caught her firmly about the waist and he dragged her unceremoniously from the horse. For a moment she seemed to hang helplessly in mid-air, as Mr. Darcy reined in his horse, braced himself in his seat, and now employing both arms, hauled her up to safety. White faced and breathing heavily, they came to a halt, silently watching the departure of Elizabeth's horse.
As if conceding victory, the rain and wind eased off and Carrie slowed to a trot, finally stopping in the next field but one. She looked back reproachfully and then lowered her head to graze.
Elizabeth felt unaccountably warm as she leant back against her gallant rescuer, his breathing heavy from exertion, his chest rising and falling in turn. Wrapped securely in his arms, she was acutely conscious of the closeness of his body to her own, and in order to prolong his embrace she laid her own arms over his to hold them in place. Her thoughts however, were not concerned with matters equestrian, nor did they linger on her own traumatic experience.
Before long a wry smile had escaped, and she bit her lip to subdue it. The desire that gripped her, demanding recognition, was without question an inconsistency; a nonsensical whim in fact, and for once she regretted her vaunted delight in laughing at the ridiculous, and that her quickness of observation encompassed her own actions as well as those of others, for just now she wanted nothing more than to play the damsel in distress, to breathlessly proclaim to him her gratitude and collapse in his arms with her breasts heaving. And since, apparently, every woman in Meryton would be very well pleased to do exactly that, to fail to conduct herself so as to (how had his letter phrased it?) avoid any share of the like censure, seemed that much more forgivable.
She settled upon dignified compromise, and by way of beginning, turned towards him with a smile, but his expression was grave and he did not return it. She caressed his cheek, and he spoke, but only to ask if she was hurt. Perhaps it was simply the favourable answer that she gave that enabled him to throw off his solemnity, but more than likely the result was enhanced by her squirming awkwardly in the saddle as she replied, for it was certainly not made for two and she was becoming rather uncomfortable. In fact, she decided, it was prodding her delicate feminine parts and they were beginning to go quite numb.
At least he had been distracted; from the increasing complacency of his expression, she judged that his thoughts had taken a more self-indulgent path. Her eyes met with his, but drifted almost unconsciously away, falling to his lips, and on downward to where his arms encircled her tightly.
She could not conceal her intentions, and with an impish twitch of her lips, the role of damsel in distress was forever lost to her.
"So...what are we going to do about this horse?" she murmured, in a vague attempt to compose herself.
"Damn the creature!" he cursed. "If she ever comes back I'll have her shot!"
"I think that her reaction was quite in proportion to the circumstances," said Elizabeth. "It would have been the death of Nelly, if she had been faced with a similar threat, and if Carrie will ever trust me again, I think I would like to further our acquaintance."
He said nothing, considering her words and the quiet composure with which she spoke. He was undecided as to whether or not the sublime sensation of her body nestling against his own justified the perilous means by which it had arrived there, and being more accustomed to shouldering responsibility than to shrugging it off, for once he was at a loss.
When she kissed him, briefly but tenderly, he found that his mind had cleared a little. When she kissed him again, he considered that this blessed turn of events would undoubtedly be of short duration and that he should most sensibly enjoy it while it lasted, and he also thought of how dull he would be during his ride home and of how empty his saddle would seem. And when she kissed him again, this time smiling as though he were displaying the sort of quaint eccentricity that a man might take on in his dotage, it was as if his dilemma had never existed.
The outcome of this entire morning excursion, with all its varied but extraneous circumstances, saw them settled in that state of seclusion and physical proximity where young lovers might safely behave exactly as they pleased, and yet here he sat, fussing about nothing of consequence. Had he, Fitzwilliam Darcy, reached decrepitude at the age of eight and twenty? Or was he simply a fool?
He kissed her without further delay, for she appeared to be growing impatient, and in consequence his questions were answered. Her smile, alight with mischief, kindled within him a small reserve of youthful exuberance, deeply submerged and pitifully neglected, but enough to reassure him. It also served to remind him of how he had once scarcely allowed this woman to be tolerable, when any man with eyes in his head could see that she was excessively tolerable. He was a fool, therefore, but not an old fool.
"Mr. Darcy," she was saying, with a longsuffering air. "It is quite tragic that you are so inclined to observe - some might say stare - when you would do so much better to participate."
He smiled. His mind was finally at ease, and in celebration he kissed her, and embraced her with such vigour that she cried out in surprise. Thereafter, he gave to her his full and undivided attention.
It was not until his horse began to huff and snort that their ardour was cooled, and, leaving Elizabeth standing safely by the fence, Mr. Darcy rode off to retrieve the disgraced mare.
She watched him with admiration; with his ease and grace it was clear that he had been riding from an early age. She thought of the first time she had seen him, as he and Bingley galloped across the fields outside Netherfield. Streaking into the lead, with the tails of his grey coat flying out behind him, his boyish, competitive energy had belied his gentleman's attire, and reminded her of her own childhood, of running races with Jane and the other girls, and the thrill of winning. Elated, she had skipped down the hill, never suspecting that before long she would be embroiled in battle with this stranger, and that for both sides, the outcome would be so favourable.
He returned, having led the two horses through the far gate, and followed the lane back to her. He helped Elizabeth into her saddle with some reservations, but knew better than to question her resolve, or risk an inquisition should they be seen returning on the same horse. It was quickly decided that it would be unnecessary to trouble anyone with details of their outing; both were well aware that once she was sure of her daughter's safety, Mrs. Bennet's concern for Elizabeth would be utterly overwhelmed by her love of melodrama; her raptures on Mr. Darcy's heroism would undoubtedly be prolonged and unbearable.
On their entrance to the house, Mrs. Bennet, driven to distraction with visions of imminent coughs and fevers, swept her protesting daughter off to a steaming bath, which she had ordered the instant the first raindrops had hit the sitting room window pane, and scattered servants in all directions with shrieked instructions to stoke fires, fetch blankets and brew medicinal teas. With Elizabeth thus taken care of, Darcy accepted Mr. Bennet's quiet offer of some brandy, and they withdrew into the library, shutting the door behind them.
Chapter 3: Madness and Mortification
In which:
Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy become chummy
Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips are excessively vulgar
Mr. Darcy thinks shameful thoughts
Miss Bingley goes loopy
Mr. Bingley gets very cross!
One of the few pleasures Elizabeth had experienced during Mr. Darcy's now almost daily visits to the Bennet household was in observing his developing rapport with her father. Although Mr. Bingley usually accompanied his friend, he was generally occupied for some time by Mrs. Bennet, who was still too much in awe of Mr. Darcy to bombard him with the same torrent of civilities. Darcy, from his refuge by the window, made every effort to be tolerant, only very occasionally expressing his suffering to Elizabeth with a long, pained look, a raised eyebrow, or a subdued yawn. It was on such occasions that his eyes would sometimes cross paths with Mr. Bennet's, and although at first no common sentiments were communicated, before long there was recognition between the two men of a certain likeness of mind. So it was that Mr. Bennet began to engage Mr. Darcy more frequently in conversation, and the two gentlemen, together with Elizabeth, would now and then withdraw to the library, leaving Bingley and Jane to fend for themselves.
Although Darcy could not approve Mr. Bennet's passive enjoyment of his family's frequent misconduct, he was aware that many men in such a situation would have drawn solace from less respectable sources than a bookshelf, and for his adherence to good principles he respected him. Mr. Bennet, on the other hand, having learnt his lesson with Lydia, though possibly not as well as he should, was a little more disposed to consider the welfare of his family at the expense of his own amusement. He had already derived unprecedented sport from the courtship period, and having developed a certain empathy for the longsuffering suitors and satisfied himself that they were not squeamish youths, he was, for the moment at least, content. He esteemed Darcy first as the man with enough sense to love his favourite daughter, but soon for his own merits, and their animated discussions on a variety of subjects would at times succeed in silencing even Mrs. Bennet, leaving her only to fidget nervously and order more tea.
On the evening following Elizabeth's and Darcy's riding excursion, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy arrived to keep their dinner engagement, the latter having only returned to Netherfield to dress for the evening after consuming several of Mr. Bennet's generous measures of brandy. Thus fortified, he attempted, out of a sense of obligation to his friend, to take the chair next to Mrs. Bennet, but Mrs. Phillips's sudden arrival resulted in a rearrangement of the seating and his good intentions were thwarted; the two ladies, whose thirst for wedding gossip craved a receptive and submissive audience, had cornered Mr. Bingley.
"Well, my dear Mr. Bingley," Mrs. Bennet effused. "I am so glad you have arrived safely! What a wretched afternoon, with such blustering of wind and downpours of rain! I am certain that this very night the roof shall be torn from the house and we shall all be drowned in our beds!"
Mr. Bingley sat back and gripped the arms of his chair.
"In fact if the weather worsens by morning I do not know what we shall do! We are expecting the dressmaker to call for the final fitting of the wedding gowns; if the conditions are stormy she will not be able to travel and if we are delayed any longer we will have to postpone the ceremony!"
She paused to allow her sister a dramatic intake of breath.
"Jane's gown had to be taken in a little Mr. Bingley, for although she has always had a hearty appetite, I fear the excitement of the last few weeks has worn her down a little. I hope she is not developing my nervous disposition!"
As she laughed shrilly, Mr. Bingley glanced at Jane, who was indeed looking rather pale.
"Perhaps it's for the best though, to start off one's married life a little on the scrawny side. I myself was never plump as a girl, but when I was wed to my dear Mr. Bennet I must confess that my hips suffered vastly, and as Jane is built the same way I suspect it will be just the way with her too!"
Mr. Bingley's expression was now that of a man confronting a charging bull.
"Mama," began Elizabeth, but Mrs. Phillips was taking her turn.
"But sister, a fuller figure does have its own benefits; they do say that a woman needs some reserves of strength to carry her through the childbearing years."
Elizabeth, in her agony, was relieved to see that Mr. Darcy appeared not to have heard; in fact, his expression seemed rather vacant, his gaze seemingly fixed on some detail of the rug beneath his feet.
"Yes indeed, and speaking of childbearing, I am excessively glad that at least some of my grandchildren will be within easy distance of Longbourn," continued Mrs. Bennet, "Why, just the other day, I came across some of our mother's old journals, full of useful advice on all aspects of childrearing, together with recipes that have been handed down through many generations of our family, including some for nourishing broths and gruels for the expectant mother. Apparently," she leaned towards her sister, lowering her voice almost to a whisper, "apparently some of them are of mystical origin!"
Mrs. Phillips' eyes widened, as she drew her hand to her breast in reverence.
Mrs. Bennet continued. "I shall pick the wild bulbs and roots myself and Hill can brew up a fresh batch for me every morning so that I can deliver it straight to Netherfield, for I am sure it will not be long before Jane is with child - she has that look about her! Why, I shall be kept quite busy looking after you and all your family, Mr. Bingley!"
As the two ladies continued in this manner, the dismay of their audience was somewhat alleviated by a long sigh from Mr. Darcy's chair, and it was observed, with quiet amusement, that not only had he refined his ability to ignore Mrs. Bennet beyond all expectation, but he was now in fact, fast asleep, his expression vouching for his profound, blissful contentment.
Under pretence of warming her hands, Elizabeth moved to the fireplace, treading firmly on his foot as she passed. He sat up with a jerk, but she instantly regretted the ill timing of her action, as the oblivious pair continued.
"And Lizzy's dress! Well, what a to-do! It needed to be let out, for she has filled out over the summer and is now much too busty to fit into it; I can only pray she won't split a seam half-way down the aisle!"
"Mother!" Elizabeth's horror went unheeded, as Mrs. Phillips chimed in, nodding wisely.
"Yes, sister, although she is not so heavy as Jane, she has always been more voluptuous in figure!"
Mr. Darcy, still drowsy and somewhat nettled by the cruelty of his awakening, was beginning to enjoy this turn of the conversation.
"Although if she has my ill luck her assets will decline beyond measure after childbirth!" finished Mrs. Bennet in triumph, as it seemed to her daughters, and the two ladies laughed heartily.
Angry and humiliated almost beyond bearing, Elizabeth was on the verge of running from the room, but at that moment a servant entered to call them to dinner. Mrs. Phillips departed, and the others rose silently, to join Mary, Kitty and Mr. Bennet in the dining room.
Darcy, seated for once next to Elizabeth, tactfully resisted the temptation to verify Mrs. Phillips's last statement. He had already on countless occasions observed the available evidence to the best of his ability, and each time had arrived at the same verdict. While it pained him most grievously to agree with Mrs. Phillips on any issue, he was forced to concede that in this case she was quite correct, the proof was abundant, in consequence of recent developments, palpable, the conclusion a resounding affirmative; Elizabeth was delightfully ample in at least one respect (or two to be exact), and although thorough evaluation of her concealed attributes was for the moment beyond his grasp, further investigation would soon be possible.
"Five more days." he murmured, squeezing Elizabeth's hand under cover of the tablecloth. Elizabeth, for reasons not entirely similar, shared his eager anticipation, and clasped his hand firmly in her own, managing a smile in response.
Dinner passed without any further embarrassment. In her sister's absence, Mrs. Bennet had receded into the role of gracious hostess, and if at times she threatened to lapse into vulgarity, Mr. Bennet, having taken note of Lizzy's dejection, exerted himself to deflect her blunders. Mary, who had always admired the austerity of Mr. Darcy's manners, was pleased to occasionally support his opinions with a carefully selected proverb, and Kitty busied herself by imagining the two visiting gentlemen in officers' uniforms. Ensuing visions of Captain Bingley and Colonel Darcy preoccupied her for several minutes, and when she returned to her soup it was quite cold.
The ladies retired to the drawing room, and the gentlemen relaxed over port. Mr. Bennet began the conversation.
"I hope your sister is in better health, Mr. Bingley; Jane tells me she was taken ill yesterday."
"Thank-you sir, I believe she may be a little better today, but not yet quite back to herself. She joined us for breakfast this morning and then suddenly decided to go into Meryton, which is most unlike her; she and Mrs. Hurst usually make all their purchases in London. She seems to have over-exerted herself; my driver told me she was in a great hurry to return home, and in fact, she urged him on until he almost overturned the carriage at Meryton crossroads. He couldn't see a thing in the rain and almost collided with a rider; he was quite shaken, poor fellow!"
"I am not surprised to hear it; the roads here can be quite treacherous in such unfriendly weather. He was not the only one to be surprised by this morning's cloudburst. Is that not so, Mr. Darcy?"
Darcy was staring at Bingley in astonishment, and it was only with significant effort that he was able to continue the conversation. After Mr. Bennet had laughed for some time at a few of Elizabeth's past riding experiences, he excused himself, and the younger gentlemen rejoined the ladies for coffee.
It was not until the carriage ride back to Netherfield that Darcy was able to make further investigation into Miss Bingley's morning exploits. It transpired that she had quit Netherfield shortly after his own departure for Longbourn and on arriving in Meryton had sat in the carriage for a prolonged period before allowing Rossiter, the driver, to continue. On reaching the southern hilltop, she had then stood for some time in the rain surveying the area, before hastily re-entering the carriage, and ordering Rossiter to proceed. Her instructions had become more urgent with every turn, repeatedly commanding him to hurry, until after narrowly avoiding an accident that could have caused serious injury to the other party, Rossiter had insisted on slowing down and delivering her safely back to Netherfield.
"Rossiter came to me shortly after their return." continued Bingley. "He was in quite a state. Apparently Caroline commended him and offered him a handsome tip for his trouble, which only served to bewilder him more."
Darcy was silent, in disbelief, trying to make some sense out of this information.
"Well, what's the matter, man? You look like you've just met your mother-in-law!" Bingley was unusually bold, having over-indulged slightly on wine at dinner. "Don't concern yourself Darcy - Caroline appears to be behaving strangely, but I'm sure she will refrain from killing herself over you, even if you are such a handsome devil! She needs another day in bed I expect, and then she'll be fit as a fiddle, restored to the sweet tempered creature we are all accustomed to!"
His good humour deteriorated somewhat with Darcy's cautious account of the morning's events; in fact, the effect was immediate; shock, with the rhythmic rocking of the carriage, dispelled his pleasant inebriation, leaving him looking distinctly queasy.
"I cannot believe it - my own sister, bent on murder! What the devil is she playing at! Is she completely out of her wits?"
"Do not be too hasty Bingley. Most likely it is merely strange coincidence. If not, and if indeed it was she, and malice was intended, then I doubt that she intended to kill anyone. Judging by the good humour she showed your driver, she was satisfied with the result of her efforts. I imagine that the worst she intended was to startle the horses, knowing Elizabeth would be vulnerable. Whether she hoped to cause injury or merely to frighten I know not."
"Well, I shall summon her first thing tomorrow morning and demand an explanation! If she has any excuse for such behaviour, I should dearly like to hear it!" Bingley's face was now flushed with outrage, and Darcy found himself fighting a smile at the unusual ferocity of his friend's countenance. "And what's more, if she cannot acquit herself of all blame in this matter, I'll ... I'll ... what shall I do Darcy?"
Darcy only smiled ruefully. "Perhaps we should establish the facts first?"
But Bingley was scowling, immersed in thought.
"She relies on me for financial support," he mused.
Despite himself, Darcy was curious. "I am surprised to hear that."
"Thanks to my father, her fortune is held securely in a trust until her marriage. It provides her with a handsome income, which she cheerfully exceeds, before applying to me to discharge her debts. At present she has nothing, and is dependent on my goodwill. And there I have it!" he cried determinedly. "If she cannot convince me of her innocence in this matter, I'll withhold her allowance! "
And with this dire threat, Bingley stumbled from the carriage and marched off to bed.
Chapter 4: The Interrogation
In which:
- Bingley and co. put the wind up Caroline
- Caroline and Louisa have a blazing row
- Darcy and Bingley form an evil, evil plan
The following morning, Bingley rose and prepared to conduct his inquisition with all the severity he could muster. He was relieved of the trouble however, by Miss Bingley's beginning on the subject herself at breakfast.
"Mr. Darcy, I had the pleasure of seeing you and your dear lady passing through the village yesterday. Your pupil appeared to be enjoying her lesson very well!"
If Darcy was surprised he did not show it.
"Yes, I believe she did enjoy it - but you have me at a disadvantage, for I was not so fortunate as to see you."
"Oh, I was sitting awhile in the carriage. These little country roads are so uneven - I had been jostled around until I thought my very bones should break! I continued the perusal of my book; such opportunities for self-improvement should never be wasted!"
She looked at Mrs. Hurst who sat opposite, awaiting her agreement, but strangely, in its place, received only an inquiry.
"What is it that you are reading sister?"
Miss Bingley sipped slowly at her tea before delivering her answer.
"I am reading the Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica!" she answered at last.
At this, Mr. Bingley choked convulsively on his coffee.
"Excuse me!" he spluttered, through spasms of coughing. "The coffee," he cleared his throat, "- fiendishly hot this morning!"
He began to mop up his breakfast with a napkin, but on glancing up at Darcy, who was observing with his most satirical eye, he reconsidered and began dividing his scrambled eggs into two heaps, one coffee bespattered, the other not. "Quite ludicrous!" he added, with a fleeting look at Miss Bingley.
"Outrageous," agreed Darcy.
"Astonishing," retorted Bingley. "Ridiculous. Incredible. Preposterous! "
"Ex-tra-ord-in-ary," smiled Darcy, enunciating each of five syllables.
"Yes!" Mrs. Hurst interrupted impatiently, as her brother hesitated. "But Caroline, I had no idea you were a scientist in the making! This is a new occupation indeed!"
"Oh Louisa, you know that I strive to be well informed on all subjects, not only in those disciplines deemed appropriate for our sex, and as I'm sure you are aware this is the most important work ever published in the physical sciences!"
Such shameless and fraudulent conceit certainly deserved exposure, but even as Darcy resisted temptation, Mrs. Hurst spoke again.
"So tell me Caroline," she narrowed her eyes slightly, "who wrote this great mathematical work?"
"Galileo." Miss Bingley announced, after a short pause. "Now Charles, what plans do you have for the day?"
"Oh, I'm going to ... but wait just one moment, wasn't it that fellow... what's his name? You know the one! An apple fell on his head!"
"You do talk such nonsense sometimes!" laughed Miss Bingley. "We all know you've never read a book from one end to the other! Is that not so, Mr. Darcy?" She looked at Darcy playfully, and ran her fingertip lightly around the rim of her teacup.
"Pass the butter please Caroline," mumbled Mr. Hurst, through a mouthful of smoked haddock.
"Newton! That's it, Sir Isaac Newton!" Bingley exclaimed, beaming victoriously.
The butter slipped from its dish, and was surreptitiously retrieved.
"Yes, it was Newton," said Darcy. "Although the story about the apple was most likely fictitious, at least in part. The truth of the matter has been greatly distorted."
He looked intently at Miss Bingley, as she shifted a plate over the telltale smear on the tablecloth.
Silence fell for a moment, as one sister attempted to compose herself, closely observed by the other.
"Rossiter informs me that you were almost involved in a collision on the journey home yesterday." Bingley continued resolutely.
"Did he? I must admit, on the return journey I was in such wretched health that I sat with my eyes closed and scarcely noticed a thing. I believe it may have been raining, so perhaps the roads were unsafe."
"But Caroline, you know it was raining! You were caught in a shower and almost soaked to the skin; you told me so yourself, at dinner!" cried Mrs. Hurst.
"At dinner? But of course, you are right. It had quite slipped my mind! After my sojourn in Meryton I longed for refreshment, to escape the confinement of the carriage; you know how I cannot abide long periods of inactivity; and so I braved the elements for a short time. It was foolish perhaps, but with my spirits revived, I was impatient to return home quickly, to remove my wet clothes."
She lingered, almost imperceptibly, on the last few words, daring yet another look at Mr. Darcy. His expression was impenetrable.
"And what a peculiar coincidence, that your journey should have taken you as far as Meryton crossroads, on the other side of the village from home! Isn't that the very place where Miss Bennet's horse was startled by that carriage Darcy?"
"Yes, it is. And it is remarkable that there should be two such occurrences in one morning; but I did not have time to observe the carriage. My attention was more engaged in ensuring Elizabeth's safety."
"And indeed you were successful Mr. Darcy!" Miss Bingley was now becoming desperate. "By the mercy of heaven our dear Eliza escaped uninjured, and will recover from the shock in time, I am quite sure. Now, Charles, you were telling me of your plans for..."
Her sister interrupted coldly. "Was Miss Bennet uninjured? I don't recall either Mr. Darcy or Charles telling us of the outcome!"
Miss Bingley, with a clatter, returned her cup to its saucer, and three pairs of eyes observed the small beads of perspiration that had collected on her brow.
Her brother, with all the flourish of an actor on his final curtain call, drew the interrogation to an end.
"Yes indeed, Sir Darcy on his valiant steed rescued the maiden fair, and bearing his mighty sword aloft, enjoyed a most pleasant ride back to Longbourn with his Lady in his arms!"
Delighted with his own wickedness, Bingley beamed at his friend, who, though slightly discomfited at this distortion of the truth, was also amused by it, and allowed the matter to rest.
Mr. Hurst, after a polite enquiry to his sister-in-law, helped himself to the last of the ham, lying unheeded on her plate, and shortly afterwards the meal ended.
A short time later, Bingley and Darcy were walking around the grounds of Netherfield, deep in discussion. It was quickly established that, although their findings during breakfast had been insubstantial, Caroline's behaviour was certainly suspicious and some precautions should be taken.
"I shall speak to Fitzwilliam when he arrives this afternoon." said Darcy. "I believe he would be most happy to assist us."
"What do you have in mind?"
Darcy smiled.
"My cousin dearly loves a joke, and the prospect of alarming your sister with a show of newly-awakened devotion would be highly amusing to him. His services would only be required for a few days; he would not tire of the occupation in that time."
"Well, if that be the case, I will be greatly indebted to him for keeping the lunatic element of my family under restraint! However, this is not sufficient; the consequences might have been severe if you had not acted so quickly! If indeed Caroline is guilty then she must be punished!"
At this point they paused, on hearing raised voices from the walk beyond the shrubbery.
"Whatever do you mean, by humiliating me so just now? You know how I rely on your support!"
"Well rely on it no longer Caroline, for I will have no further part in your ridiculous scheming! It was not I who humiliated you - you did that of your own accord, without any assistance from me. How can you continue with such transparent pretensions? Do you think Mr. Darcy is a fool? Why even Charles noticed your clumsy flirtations this morning! You know Mr. Darcy will be married in four days and there is nothing more you can do to win him; it is quite clear that he is very much in love with Miss Bennet. If you wish to continue in his circle of acquaintance you must learn to adopt at least the appearance of civility with his intended bride!"
"It is not too late and I will not be defeated by the impertinent ambitions of an unpolished, uneducated country bumpkin! With her "fine eyes" and her muddy skirts...she's a trollop, as mercenary as her mother, only more cunning; she wants only his money and his influence!"
"Oh, of course, that would explain why she was so abominably uncivil to him for so many months, for we all know that that is the surest way to win a man. In any case, are your motives so very pure, my dear sister? You are not actually in love with Mr. Darcy! And allow me to make myself quite clear on one subject - I do not know, and I do not wish to know, what your intentions were yesterday morning when you stalked the object of your jealous obsession about the countryside. But you may rest assured that I will not stand idly by and watch you bring disgrace upon yourself and your family! There is more at stake here than your own reputation; be very careful, Caroline!"
"Make no mistake Louisa, I shall behave only as I see fit, without heed for threats or ill-judged advice from you! What makes you think, even for a moment, that you have a right to counsel me? You cannot possibly be of the opinion that your life is a model of success, to which I should aspire? You, who married a man of no great fortune because you saw him in distinguished company, in distinguished places, with a different frock coat for every occasion? Look at what he has become Louisa; what effect marriage to you has had on him! He's a red-faced, pot-bellied slouch of a gambler who can scarcely string a sentence together in polite company; he cares more about his next meal than he does for his wife; the only reason that he hasn't taken a mistress is that he's too inebriated for such an exertion!"
A chilling pause followed this outburst, before Mrs. Hurst replied, her accent oddly measured and detached.
"I assume, sister, that when you resolved to share your thoughts with me in this way, that you had in mind alternative arrangements for accommodation during the next three months. I assure you, that despite our former plans, you will not be welcome in the Hurst residence!"
After another brief pause, footsteps carried first one and then the other away, leaving the gentleman in stunned silence.
At last Bingley spoke.
"Good God! I haven't heard such a hostile dispute since they were fifteen years old and squabbling over a bonnet!"
Darcy said nothing, Miss Bingley's spiteful description of Elizabeth still stinging his consciousness.
"And what the devil does she mean, "even Charles noticed"? What does she think I am, a half-wit?" Bingley was most affronted.
"And why on earth would Miss Bingley not be in love with me?" Darcy frowned, also somewhat perturbed.
Recollecting themselves, they moved on with renewed dignity, leaving behind their wounded pride in exchange for more admirable concerns.
"Well Darcy, I think we have all the proof we need! Now, what action shall we take? Forgive me, I do not wish to see my sister consigned to a lunatic asylum, but it is clear that extreme measures are required!"
"Your feelings are perfectly understandable Bingley, and it is best for all concerned if your sister's indiscretion does not become common knowledge. However, I think you will soon be facing another problem, a question of storage, one might say."
Bingley looked at him blankly. Darcy elaborated.
"It seems likely to me that your sister will shortly be approaching you on the subject of continuing her residence at Netherfield. I have little doubt that, like myself, you would wish for privacy during the first weeks of your marriage. An asylum would perhaps be a trifle harsh, but another solution must be found, and found without delay!"
"Good Lord!" Bingley was appalled. "I must say that, although I had no fixed plans, I was looking forward - very much looking forward to my first evening alone with my wife!"
"Exactly," agreed Darcy.
Both men looked sheepishly at the ground.
A moment's consideration inspired Bingley with a feeling that was quite unknown to him, something akin to resentment, and with sudden fierceness he exclaimed,
"Well, upon my honour, after her misbehaviour of the last year, and now this, it's time I showed her that there is a limit to my tolerance! I'll have no more of her self-satisfied superiority and her selfish manipulation of others - and I'll be damned if she's not out of this house by the morning of my wedding day!"
"Self-satisfied superiority." Darcy was murmuring to himself. "Selfish manipulation..."
Suddenly he turned to his friend with fresh optimism.
"Bingley, I have a plan."
Moving off, the two gentlemen, deep in conversation, began another tour of the grounds.