Page 43 of Dear Friend

There remained only the question of when he should leave.

Elizabeth's letter had arrived the previous day after an absence of nearly a month, and Darcy was reluctant to quit Willowbrook when another might follow within the week. Her silence had been explained, and, more importantly, she had plainly declared her intention of writing again. Before that interruption, her letters had arrived with tolerable regularity, often little more than a week apart. Darcy therefore had every reason to suppose another might reach Willowbrook within the next several days.

He found himself unwilling to leave before it did. The notion of being somewhere upon the road to Hertfordshire while another letter addressed to Julia Harding arrived behind him was peculiarly vexing. A few days could make little difference to Bingley, who would scarcely have settled into Netherfield before Darcy joined him, and Darcy could afford to wait.

The admission was not especially flattering to his self-command.

Darcy therefore instructed his valet after breakfast to begin preparations for their departure, though without fixing the day. He would remain at Willowbrook a little longer, perhaps until the sixth or seventh, and then set out for Hertfordshire whether another letter had come or not.

Having settled the matter, he sat down to answer Bingley.

My dear Bingley,

I am very glad to accept your invitation to Netherfield. I have a few matters remaining in Somerset which I should prefer to settle before I leave, but expect to set out sometime within the coming week. You may therefore look for me not many days after your own arrival.

Yours,

Darcy

He sanded the note and rang for a servant.

Chapter Fifteen

15th October 1811

Meryton Assembly

Elizabeth

It was Meryton’s custom to hold an assembly in October, when those newly arrived in the neighbourhood might be introduced more generally into its society. This year there were enough new faces to give the occasion rather more interest than usual, though Elizabeth remained near the edge of the room with Charlotte Lucas, listening with only half her attention as Charlotte pointed out those she recognised from their earlier visits to her father.

The other half of Elizabeth’s thoughts had wandered to Julia. She remembered the assembly of the previous year and how Julia had contrived to make even its dullest portions amusing. Elizabeth had laughed enough that evening to forgive the heat, the crowd, and several indifferent dances. Julia would have enjoyed this one particularly, with so many strangers arriving at once and so many new characters upon whom to form an opinion.

A sudden increase of whispers recalled Elizabeth to the present. Heads turned towards the entrance, and across the room Mrs. Bennet caught her eye and gestured so urgently towards the door that Elizabeth could hardly mistake her meaning.

She turned.

The gentleman whose arrival had occupied Meryton for the better part of a week had at last appeared.

Mr. Bingley’s taking of Netherfield Park had provided the neighbourhood with an inexhaustible subject ever since the news became known. The estate had stood without a tenant for more than three years, and its being let at last would have excited sufficient interest by itself. That the new tenant was young, unmarried, and reputed to possess nearly five thousand a year had ensured that his arrival was discussed from Longbourn to the boarder of Hertfordshire and everywhere between.

Mrs. Bennet, naturally, had spoken of little else. By the evening of the assembly, Elizabeth believed herself acquainted with Mr. Bingley’s age, fortune, connections, disposition, and prospects of matrimony without ever having exchanged a word with the gentleman.

“That is Mr. Bingley,” Charlotte whispered, leaning a little to obtain a better view as the party entered. “And those are his sisters.”

Elizabeth regarded the two ladies with some curiosity. Their dress was elegant, their manner assured, and there was an air about them which suggested that assemblies such as Meryton’s were by no means the grandest society to which they were accustomed. Each entered upon the arm of a gentleman.

“That is Mrs. Hurst with her husband,” Charlotte continued, indicating the elder of the two ladies. Her attention then shifted to the remaining pair. “And that is Miss Bingley. The gentleman with her is most likely Mr. Darcy.”

“Most likely?” Elizabeth turned to her.

Her father, Mr. Bennet, had resisted every entreaty from his wife to call at Netherfield, and as Mr. Bingley’s party had not yet visited Longbourn, Elizabeth possessed no acquaintance amongst them from which to correct Charlotte’s uncertainty.

“Papa said Mr. Bingley spoke of a friend who was expected to join him, a Mr. Darcy.” Charlotte tucked a loose curl behind her ear as she considered the gentleman in question. “He resides in Derbyshire, I believe, and has a large estate there called Pemberley.”

Elizabeth looked again towards the stranger. Sir William's years in trade and his fondness for society had given him a tolerable acquaintance with names and families beyond their immediate neighbourhood. If even he had thought Mr. Darcy's situation worth repeating, the gentleman was evidently of some consequence.

“Papa also heard that he has ten thousand a year,” Charlotte added.