Pamela Aidan - These Three Remain

Darcy examined the knot of colorful silk that was his driving club’s signature neckcloth, observing in particular the series of knots cascading with deceptive ease into the top of his waistcoat. Club rules decreed that it be arranged precisely so, and no member would be granted entrée to the dinner if it deviated in the slightest degree. Never one to abide such nonsense, Darcy had not attended the Four-and-Go Club’s annual dinner since his induction a number of years before, but tonight was Bingley’s night. Therefore, not only Fletcher’s skill but his memory also had been called upon to produce the required entrance ticket.

“Well done, Fletcher!”

“Thank you, sir.” The valet lowered the hand mirror and placed it carefully on the dressing table. “I only hope that Mr. Bingley’s man can achieve the same result. His last attempt was merely passable.”

“That is why Mr. Bingley will come to Erewile House for your inspection before going to dinner.” Darcy shrugged into the frock coat his valet held up.

“Indeed, sir!” Fletcher replied as he smoothed the shoulders. Darcy could hear the smile of satisfaction in his voice. “I shall await your summons.”

Nodding, Darcy gathered his fob and pocket watch, left his rooms, and proceeded down the stairs to the Small Parlor. The much-longed-for retreat to Pemberley after the Wickham affair had lasted only a week. His Matlock relations had arrived hard upon his return, and most of his time had been spent in their service. Lord and Lady Matlock were not unwelcome guests, and the introduction of his cousin D’Arcy’s new fiancée, a lovely and modest young woman suggested by Her Ladyship, was a pleasure, especially for Georgiana. Darcy managed a few private moments with his sister in which to confide his discovery of Wickham and relate in general terms that the affair had been brought to a successful conclusion. She listened with sympathy and accepted his abbreviated account with a sincere joy that all had ended well for the family of her newest acquaintance. “Might Miss Elizabeth Bennet visit us again?” she asked, but he held out only a weak “Perhaps” as a possibility.

Georgiana’s desire to see Elizabeth again echoed strongly in his own heart. How he longed to know her thoughts, her feelings about all that had transpired! Was she recovered from her pain? Had she returned to her former liveliness, or had the whole affair changed her irrevocably? The frustration of his desire was an ache in his chest. She could never know of his involvement beyond her desperate confession to him that day in Lambton. He had expressed to the Gardiners in the strongest terms that his involvement be kept secret and that Lydia be sworn to silence. The Bennet family was to know nothing. He had, in short, no reasonable expectation of ever seeing her again. It was entirely possible that he would never witness the least result of his efforts. But had he not known that from the first?

“Show him in, Witcher,” Darcy instructed his butler upon Bingley’s announcement at the parlor door. With quick strides, his friend came and, in some perturbation, stood before him and demanded Darcy’s opinion of “this blasted knot.”

“Driving the course under the critique of the country’s most noted horsemen and whips was not half so unnerving as my man’s fiddling with this thing.” He flipped the ends of his silks with contempt.

Darcy laughed. “I have already put Fletcher on notice, Charles. Come, let him set you to rights before the others have at you.”

“I feel at such sixes and sevens,” Bingley confided to him later as Darcy’s carriage pulled away from the curb. “It is not just this.” He motioned to his neckcloth. “Or the scrutiny of the club on my every word until my induction this evening. It is my whole life!” he ended in exasperation.

“How do you mean? Has something happened?” Darcy turned to him in concern.

“Nothing in particular, but that is part and parcel of the problem. I have no goal, no direction. Nothing to strive for or against,” he answered. “Yet, there are decisions which I must make that could very well determine my future.”

“The stuff of life,” Darcy commiserated lightly, but his companion was not deterred.

“For instance,” Bingley continued, “I determined last year that I simply must have my own country house. My social obligations demand it. I had hoped to have that settled by now, but deuce take it, I cannot make up my mind. Only last week, I received an inquiry from the agent for Netherfield Hall asking if I intend to purchase it or not. Caroline is against it…”

Netherfield! Darcy’s mind set to racing. He had forgotten about Netherfield, assuming that Bingley had terminated his lease months ago. Netherfield! And only three miles distant — Elizabeth!

“Perhaps,” he delicately interrupted his friend’s musings, “another visit might help you to make your decision.”

“You advise it?” Bingley drew back. “That was my own feeling, but…So, you do! Well!” He shook his head as if in wonder. “Would you, then, possibly consider —?”

“Accompanying you?” Darcy finished for him, then wished he had bitten his tongue rather than betray his eagerness.

Bingley did not appear to notice, for his next words were a rush of gratitude that spilled on into dates and plans until the carriage pulled up to the site of the club’s dinner. “This is so good of you, Darcy!” he exclaimed, descending to the curb.

Good of you? Darcy thought to himself as he followed Bingley into the hotel, or was it merely selfish opportunism? Upon reflection, he decided that it was a mixture of both. He had interfered last autumn with such harmful results that, whether Jane Bennet received Bingley or not on this second foray into Hertfordshire, Darcy was forced to acknowledge he owed his friend a full account of his conspiracy to part them on the first. It would be uncomfortable and embarrassing — eventualities he richly deserved — but worse, it might very well cost him the friendship of this decent man. That, he owned with a deep pang, he would deserve as well.

“You are arrived at last!” Bingley’s great smile and hearty clap on his shoulder attested to Darcy’s welcome one week later on the very doorstep of Netherfield Hall. “I thought I would be driven mad awaiting you these several days, but there is such a great deal to be done opening a house! Dawn to dusk!”

“Really?” Darcy raised an eyebrow. “I had no notion!” he teased.

Bingley laughed. “Come in, come in!” Darcy followed behind as his friend led him to the library. Their progress was slowed somewhat as Bingley confidently nodded directions to a servant here or answered a question from another one there until at last they were alone within their old haunt awaiting the arrival of a tray. Had it taken but two days as master of Netherfield to effect such a difference in attitude? From whence had come this ease? Darcy teased his friend. Coloring at his praise, Bingley quickly placed its origin in the warmth of his reception. A number of the county’s landowners had paid him visits within hours of his arrival, welcoming him back into the neighborhood and pressing upon him all manner of invitation. Then there were the servants, largely the same as those he’d had the previous year, who showed every indication that they were, indeed, glad to see him returned to Netherfield. “It is truly above everything,” Bingley concluded with obvious pleasure, “more than ever I expected!”

Darcy smiled and murmured his agreement, pleased with his friend’s doubly good news. The neighborhood, it appeared, had not held the events of last year against Bingley but was, in fact, eager to renew its acquaintance. That the servants were glad for his return also boded well. Bingley’s increased confidence and ease in his role were undoubted testimony of their efforts to encourage him to stay. There remained but the question of Miss Bennet. Had he tried to see her?

The ordered tray arrived, and after the servant closed the library door behind him, Darcy inquired whether his friend had paid any visits since his arrival. He had been far too busy to do any more than pay a call on Squire Justin, Bingley replied and shook his head, and that only because he had encountered his carriage on the road and been strongly importuned to follow him home for a welcoming cup. “But yesterday, I determined to remedy that.” He looked at Darcy, a mixture of anxiety and excitement in his eyes. “I intend to visit the Bennet family tomorrow.”

“Indeed?” Darcy accepted Bingley’s statement with no show of his surprise, but his heart pounded in expectation.

“I know that the company of the Bennets is not what you prefer,” Bingley continued, sitting back in the chair, “and the younger girls can be rather tiresome. I could put it off —”

“My dear Bingley,” Darcy remonstrated with mock severity, “you are not to neglect your social obligations to as prominent a family as the Bennets on my account!”

His friend laughed, then sobered only a little before asking, “You have no objection, then?”

“None.” Darcy rose from his chair, the rapidity of his immersion into Elizabeth’s society exciting both a joy and a fear he was not certain he could disguise, and approached a window that looked out onto the fields and wood of the hall. “Shall we see how the land has fared in the year you have been absent?”

Rather than send his card in announcement of their visit, Bingley decided over their evening port that they should give their prospective hosts the joy of it in person. Torn between an engulfing desire to see Elizabeth and an innate caution that his appearance might not give her or her family as much pleasure as Bingley predicted, Darcy could only nod approval to his friend’s plan before steering the conversation elsewhere. Yes, he had come to Netherfield with Bingley’s welfare as his prime motivation and, if he had made a terrible mistake in his assessment of Jane Bennet’s affections, rectifying his misdeed. The sooner he determined the yea or nay of the matter, the better — not only for Bingley but for his own conscience. But he had come, too, nurturing the hope of discovering what remained of the beginning he and Elizabeth had made at Pemberley. He had pondered how to achieve these ends during the greater part of his journey to Hertfordshire, but miraculously, the opportunity for seeing to both was set before him without effort on his part! Nevertheless, the speed at which his hopes and fears were distilling into irretrievable action was breathtaking, beyond anything he could have planned or, truth be told, even wished!