Page 41 of Penned By Mr Darcy
And yet, he could not shake the feeling that it was not simply lost. It had been found. It was a suspicion entirely without basis
“Darcy,” Bingley said softly, interrupting his thoughts. “You look ready to face a tribunal.”
Darcy attempted a smile. It came out more like a grimace.
“Do I?”
“I know you did not wish to call today. I won’t linger. Just a few polite exchanges, the invitations delivered, and then we can be away.”
But Darcy was not listening. Netherfield’s carriage had turned into Longbourn’s familiar drive, and the house came into view. The last time he had been here, Miss Elizabeth had spoken to him with a frankness he was still not accustomed to - an honesty that pierced him more deeply than flattery ever could.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and the footman jumped down to open the door. Darcy did not move, looking out past the man at the house behind him. It was adequate, he supposed, for a gentleman of Mr Bennet’s low standing, but when one looked for too long, it was impossible to ignore the paint peeling from the door or the dirt that clung to the stone façade.
“Well,” Bingley said, adjusting his cravat, “no time like the present.”
Darcy stepped down after him, his boots crunching lightly on the gravel. The morning fog had begun to lift, and from somewhere within the house, a piano could be faintly heard.
They approached the door, and Bingley rapped smartly.
A moment later, it opened. It was not, as Darcy had expected, a servant – but rather an occupant of the house. Miss Elizabeth opened the door, dressed casually in a pretty blue day dress that complimented her colouring, her hair unbound and wild around her shoulders. She had been in the middle of speaking with someone, for she was still turned away, her face bright with laughter.
As she turned towards them, she blinked with surprise.
“Mr Bingley,” she said with a warm smile. As her eyes flickered to him, he could not help but notice that her smile faltered. “And Mr Darcy.”
He bowed stiffly.
“Miss Bennet,” Bingley said, his face alight. “We’ve come to deliver our invitations for the ball.”
“How delightful,” she said, stepping aside. “Please - do come in.”
Darcy hesitated only a second before following. The warmth of the Bennet household enveloped him, fragrant with tea and old books and something else he could not name. It was unusual for a member of the household to answer the door, and it was clear upon entering Longbourn that they had few staff. It was well enough maintained, he supposed, but it lacked the elegance he would have expected from a family that seemed to pride itself upon appearance rather than substance.
“We are pleased to welcome you. Jane is resting; I will go and get her at once.”
“Has she not yet improved?”
“Her lungs still trouble her, I’m afraid, but she grows stronger every day. The doctor is confident she will soon make a full recovery.”
“I have thought of her often,” Bingley said as they neared what he anticipated to be the sitting room.
The sound of rather pained piano echoed from behind its closed door, and he winced. He found himself missing dear Georgiana even more than he did already, for her talent on the instrument was truly remarkable for one her age.
“Forgive my sister,” Miss Elizabeth said quickly, catching his displeasure. “She is a very eager student, but a student she most certainly is.”
“I do so admire those that can play an instrument. Your playing at Netherfield was very pleasing, Miss Elizabeth. I am sorry that we did not have an opportunity to hear Miss Bennet play.”
“Jane is more talented at needlework than music,” Miss Elizabeth said with a small smile.
She pushed open the parlour door.
“Mama, girls, Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy have arrived.”
“What!” Mrs Bennet’s outraged voice rung out from inside. “Where is Hill? Why were they not properly announced?”
Miss Elizabeth looked back at them, smiling awkwardly.
“They are here with me, Mama. Please, gentlemen, do come in.”
