Page 2 of Mr. Darcy's Christmas Letters
When her aunt had written to tell her all that Mr. Darcy had done to repair what Wickham had broken, Elizabeth had harboured a secret hope—that Mr. Darcy had done it all for her. But he had neither met her eye nor spoken a word when he arrived with Mr. Bingley in September, and then he had removed to town without explanation or farewell.
He had gone away, and he had not come back.
When Mr. Darcy returned for the wedding, Elizabeth would offer him her gratitude, for she was sure he did not desire any more than that from her. She would endure the loss of his good opinion—if indeed she still owned it—with the grace she possessed but had not previously shown him.
She wondered where Mr. Darcy was tonight. If he ever thought of her, she hoped it was with kindness.
Chapter Two
Thewindwaspickingup as Darcy descended from the carriage. Netherfield loomed above, foreboding where it ought to be welcoming, a warm house out of the cold, the amiable Charles Bingley inside.
No matter. He just had to endure one evening and half of tomorrow. Then he could be on his way to Pemberley, where he was most at home.
Pemberley, where he had not returned since his abbreviated visit in August.
Elizabeth had been there then, wandering the grounds when he walked up from the stables. He had not been expecting to see anyone but the servants. He had been dirty and tired, and Elizabeth could not have missed that he smelled strongly of horse. Yet she had been nervously polite.
He had been so struck by the sight of her. Elizabeth, at Pemberley.
The following day he had taken Georgiana to meet Elizabeth at the inn. The day after that, he had rushed back from fishing with the other gentlemen when he learned that Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner were returning Georgiana’s call. When he entered the room, not at all his usually composed self, Elizabeth had been sitting in the northern saloon with Georgiana and the other ladies, coaxing a smile from his retiring sister by telling her a story about how a cat had stolen into Longbourn’s larder when she was just a girl. He could see the falsely polite expressions on the faces of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst from the corner of his eye, but they were quickly banished from his thoughts. Mrs. Annesley was listening attentively, and Mrs. Gardiner was shaking her head fondly, interjecting that the cat had not slipped inside, thatsomeonehad very kindly opened the door for him.
And Elizabeth had laughed.
The scene had made his heart beat wildly. All he had ever wanted had been there before him.
And then, the very next day it had all been lost.
Elizabeth had been trembling, so great was her distress. What mortified Darcy the most was not that he had lost her through his own inaction, but that she had been so materially wounded by it. The woman most precious to him in the world, even more than his own sister, and he had allowed Wickham to destroy her family’s reputation to protect his own.
Well, at least he had been able to put that right. As right as the foolish Lydia Bennet would allow. But it was done.
“Darcy!”
The warm voice pierced the fog of his ruminations, and Darcy realised he had been standing outside his coach in the cold for some minutes like an idiot. He shook his trepidation away, took a deep breath, and pressed forward.
“Bingley,” he called as he mounted the steps. “How fares the groom?”
Bingley stood at the top of the steps, a wide smile on his lips, beckoning him inside. “I am well, Darcy. Anticipating having my Jane home with me.”
Darcy offered his friend a half-smile. He knew precisely how anxious he must be. At least Bingley had a definitive end to his waiting. “Will your family depart for London afterward?”
Bingley shook his head, his expression a mix of displeasure and wry understanding. “They are not coming. Louisa wrote to say that they had planned to spend the festive season in Scarborough, and there would not be time to travel here and back.”
“I had not realised the Hursts enjoyed Scarborough so very much,” Darcy replied. “Do not they generally spend December in town?”
“They do,” Bingley responded tartly, quite uncharacteristic for him. “This fascination with the north is quite new. Perhaps Hurst’s father requested that they remain.” Unspoken was the fact that the larger Hurst family did not appreciate Caroline Bingley’s company. They had never hesitated to send Hurst and his wife on their way if it meant being rid of Miss Bingley.
Darcy was surprised that Hurst had not accepted the invitation if for no other reason than he would be fed and lodged at no cost to himself. It was always possible, of course, that the ladies had not mentioned the wedding to him.
Though Darcy was affronted on Bingley’s behalf, it was a great relief to him that Miss Bingley was not in residence. Her vapid pettiness reminded him of how he had acted when first he arrived here and how that behaviour had set Elizabeth against him from the beginning. It was not a pleasant memory.
“I am pleased thatyouare here,” Bingley was saying. “Although I do wish you had planned to arrive last night. We had the most wonderful dinner with the Bennets. It would have been good for you to meet them again before seeing them at the church tomorrow.”
The timing of the dinner had been the very reason Darcy had delayed his journey until today. “They areyourfuture family, Bingley, not mine.” There was almost a tinge of melancholy in his voice, and he commanded himself to banish it.
Bingley clapped him on the back. “The Bennets are not so bad when you get to know them. Mrs. Bennet is excitable, I grant you, but soon Jane will live at Netherfield, and we will not have to meet her mother every day.”
Darcy doubted very much that Mrs. Bennet would distance herself from her eldest and advantageously married daughter. But then, it was not his business, was it? Mrs. Bennet would never be making a nuisance of herself at Pemberley.
