Page 36 of Miss Bingley’s Return

“The problem is not Charles,” mused Caroline. Then her face turned sour. “Or not Charles only. It is interference, distraction, and perhaps even poor influence. The situation is not lost; we can correct it, but we must act.”

Louisa did not think Caroline had spoken, expecting a response, but she offered one all the same. “If you have a way to do that when all else has failed, I am eager to hear what it is, Caroline.”

“I shall think on it and let you know what I decide,” said Caroline, sweeping from the room.

As the door closed behind her, Louisa heard Hurst chuckling. She turned to him, with a question on her tongue, but Hurst anticipated her.

“This is admirable, Louisa,” said he, still savoring his mirth. “Caroline has bent all her attention to your brother and Miss Bennet, but she has missed the true danger.”

“Do you speak of Mr. Darcy?” asked Louisa with a frown.

“Have you not noticed how often Darcy is with Miss Elizabeth?” asked Hurst.

“I have,” said Louisa, “but I have seen no overt preference on his part.”

“That is because Darcy is not an overt sort of man. Trust me, Louisa—Darcy’s interest in Miss Elizabeth is not benign and will not please Caroline. But she will not see it until it is too late.”

Louisa said nothing more, though she thought on the subject for a time. There was no question of warning Caroline, for Louisa had long since looked on her sister’s obsession with Mr. Darcy as a lost cause. Though she had seen nothing of what Hurst had said of Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, she resolved to watch more closely.

Chapter IX

The following evening was the invitation to Mr. Darcy’s house for dinner that his sister had extended during their visit. As Elizabeth was by now accustomed to the gentleman’s presence, to say nothing of his surprising revelation from the night before, she could not look on the evening with anything other than curiosity.

“You have visited Mr. Darcy’s house before?” asked Elizabeth as the carriage departed from Gracechurch Street.

“Yes, Lizzy,” said Aunt Gardiner. “Mr. Darcy’s sister is still full young, so we usually host them, but we have dined at Darcy House.”

“What is it like?” asked Jane while Elizabeth pondered this new information about Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Gardiner chuckled low and amused, though he allowed his wife to respond. “It is foremost a house, Jane. Your first impression, however, will be of an imposing structure. It is the house of a gentleman of means, and the house reflects Mr. Darcy’s position in society. But you will understand when you enter that Mr. Darcy does not use it to display his superiority or anything else so shallow.”

“Then I am impatient to see it,” said Elizabeth. “Tell me, Aunt—you have seen Pemberley, have you not? Does his house in town compare?”

“Comparing them is like comparing an onyx to a diamond, Lizzy,” said her aunt. “Yes, I have seen Pemberley, and a grand estate it is. The houses cannot compare for they are on a different scale altogether.”

As the carriage continued through the streets, they continued to speak, Mrs. Gardiner describing Pemberley and Lambton. Elizabeth listened to her descriptions and tried to imagine the estate, though she knew her imagination would fall short. Elizabeth had toured a few great country houses, so she knew what to expect in a general sense, but it sounded like Pemberley was even more than she could envision.

The carriage stopped at length on the circular drive of an imposing structure on the corner of a quiet street. When they stepped out, she tried not to gawk in amazement at the massive house before them. The stone structure stood tall and proud, elegance in its lines, with greenery just beginning to sprout in the early spring along the walls. The massive portico stood high and imposing above them, and Elizabeth wondered if Longbourn and all its rooms could fit under that shelter. It was absurd, of course, but the house was much larger than her childhood home. For the first time, she began to understand just what wealth and position entailed.

“Mr. Gardiner, Mrs. Gardiner,” said Mr. Darcy, standing in front of the entrance with his sister. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth. Welcome to our home.”

Uncertain though she was, Elizabeth thought Mr. Darcy had hesitated just an instant as he spoke her name, lingering just long enough for her to notice. Mr. Gardiner, despite his understanding and amusement, did not hesitate to step forward and offer Mr. Darcy his hand.

“Darcy. Thank you for this invitation. Our nieces have been most eager to experience your home.”

Mr. Darcy appeared startled, his involuntary glance finding Elizabeth. Mr. Gardiner laughed and clasped his hand.

“No need to concern yourself, my friend. My nieces are not turning into their mother.”

It was an audacious statement that illustrated more than any comment that the two men were friends. Mr. Darcy did not hesitate to respond with a grin, and Elizabeth thought it became him, and even more so because the occasions on which he wore it were rare, indeed.

“I am not certain I know how to answer that comment,” said the gentleman, his sister giggling beside him, though she did not understand the context.

“Then let it be,” advised Mr. Gardiner.

“I shall be guided by your excellent advice,” was Mr. Darcy’s dry reply. “Shall we not go into the house?”

Given the size of the entrance hall, Elizabeth would not have been surprised had their words echoed. The interior was as magnificent as the façade, the floor tile shining and of excellent quality, the exposed woodwork fine and understated. When they reached the sitting-room, Elizabeth understood what her aunt had said—for the furniture was of superior quality, but it lacked the fashion without comfort she had seen in other grand homes. Mr. Darcy’s home, though fine, was lived-in and exuded a warmth that spoke of the owner’s quiet satisfaction in his home. It was an insight into the gentleman Elizabeth did not think she would have understood if she had not seen him here where he was most comfortable.