Into Kent (10 page)

Perhaps half an hour later, Bingley sought him out to say he had had enough for the evening; even though it was still relatively early, the two repaired to their carriage.

“How was your evening?” Darcy enquired.

“Fine, Darcy, fine. I am glad to have come; it was marvellous to see every one again, and Pender—what a mind the man has! I could listen to him for hours.”

“Indeed. No matter the subject, I have never caught him out—regardless of how hard I tried—and Heaven knows I tried often enough. I think I saw you dance?”

“Oh yes…one or twice,” Bingley replied, his manner becoming constrained.

Darcy asked casually, “Did you meet any one?”

“No, no one like…that is, every one was very pleasant. I had a fine time.”

“All is well, then,” Darcy offered.

Bingley’s reply was a muted: “Yes, all is well…” This, of course, was very unlike his friend’s normal high spirits after an evening’s entertainment, and he compared this carriage ride to another he had recently shared with Bingley on the way back from a dance: he could not but be affected by the difference in his friend—Bingley obviously still pined for Miss Bennet. Well, he thought, one must not expect immediate success: this will be a campaign, not a sally.

Chapter Eleven

The following Thursday, after a delightful Christmas at which Darcy had enjoyed quite a sufficiency of mince pie and plum pudding, he had gone out into town to see to purchasing the furnishings for Georgiana’s drawing-room at Pemberley, as he had intended. Mindful of Miss Bingley’s advice, he had spoken with Mrs. Annesley before starting out, wishing to have her thoughts on a suitable décor. She made several suggestions, and had mentioned the window seat: “Your sister seems very drawn to that window; does it hold any special significance?”

Darcy cast back his memory. “Not especially, I think. She did sit there with our mother fairly often when she was but a girl, but that was years ago, now.”

Mrs. Annesley looked at him momentarily, as if expecting him to continue. At length she said, “Perhaps I might best deal with the window seat, Sir? I am sure you will have your hands full with the rest.”

As his chaise pulled up in front of the warehouse, Darcy heard the sound of another carriage pulling up behind him. Descending, he glanced around and was surprised to see Miss Susan Chesterton was at that same moment alighting from a hackney coach, evidently with the intent of visiting the same shop as he.

‘Miss Chesterton!” he spoke in greeting. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”

“Why, Mr. Darcy! Indeed it is.
What
a surprise! How odd that we should both choose to-day to come here, of all places.”

“You are in need of furnishings, too, then?” Darcy asked.

Miss Chesterton glanced casually into the window he was indicating. “Indeed; I am in desperate need of a new carpet for my chambers; the housemaid spilled some coals on my old one—it is quite ruined, I fear.”

“What a shame.”

“Oh, well, I was planning on replacing it anyway, so I was not too upset with her. And now she has given me the chance to meet you again, I have forgiven her entirely.” She smiled at Darcy and gestured. “Shall we?” Darcy opened the door for them and they went in.

The proprietor came bustling towards them, recognising Darcy as a regular and valued customer: “Mr. Darcy—what a pleasure, Sir!” When he saw Miss Chesterton, however, his face became suddenly blank: “Ah…Miss Chesterton,” he said with a restrained bow to her; Darcy understood: it had always appeared to him that one of the great difficulties of being a tradesman was the necessity of maintaining the strictest propriety with all persons, which, when dealing with a woman as lovely as Miss Chesterton, must call for a high degree of discipline.

“How might I be of service, Sir?” the man asked.

“I am looking for a new suite of furniture for a moderately sized parlour,” Darcy informed him.

Miss Chesterton looked up at him in surprise. “Are you in the habit of buying such things, Mr. Darcy? Surely this is a woman’s duty.”

“In the normal course of events, I should leave it to my sister and her staff to attend to these matters,” he agreed, “but this is to be a surprise for her; the room is one she favours, and I should like to have it brought up to date for her.”

“What a marvellous brother you are, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Chesterton said warmly, smiling up at him. She held his gaze a moment, then said. “Well, I shall leave you to your task. Mr.…?” she hesitated, looking at the proprietor.

“Wilson, Madam,” he supplied with a slight bow. “Perhaps you may recall the purchase of a German clock you made here some months ago,” he supplied. “It came back to us, I believe.”

“Of course—Mr. Wilson. If you would show me to your carpetries, then?”

Darcy thought the man hesitated briefly before saying, “Certainly, Madam. Just this way.”

Darcy wandered off to explore the warehouse. Before long he had selected a sofa and matching chairs in a soft lemon colour that would set the tone for the room. He walked deeper into a quiet, recessed area where pianofortes of various styles were kept; Georgiana so enjoyed playing, and he was contemplating including one in his purchase, when some one reached past him, brushing up against his arm. Surprised, he looked down to find Miss Chesterton at his side: she lightly played a chord or two. “Is your sister’s parlour in need of an instrument, then?” she asked, still leaning against his arm while her fingers passed over the keys.

“No, no; but my sister plays exceptionally well, and I was thinking of giving her a new one: the one in the music-room is rather old.”

“Such an excellent brother! Your house is a large one, I take it?”

“The manor is,” he said. “The house here in London is, of course, smaller.”

“And where do you reside here in Town?”

“Grosvenor Square.”

“How lovely! You are not far from my dear friend, Mrs. Johnson. Do you know Mr. Rupert Johnson? His house is near Bedford Square.”

“No, I have not had that pleasure.”

“Well, perhaps I should remedy that; Mrs. Johnson, I am sure, would be delighted to know you. I am staying with them, now, in fact.” Looking about, she said, “Heavens, but this is a dark, lonely corner, is not it? One might think we were the only ones in the place.”

Darcy agreed and, sensible that their present isolated situation might be mischievously interpreted by any one coming upon them, he detached himself gently from contact with Miss Chesterton, that no hint of impropriety might be ascribed to her, should any one happen by. Moving to the side of the instrument he suggested: “Perhaps you might like to play a piece?”

Miss Chesterton looked at him curiously, then smiled. “I fear, Sir, that even though I studied as a girl, my abilities have declined. I cannot boast, with your sister, of my performance.”

Darcy shook his head. “My sister would never boast; her abilities are eclipsed only by her modesty.”

“What could be more attractive in a woman?” said Miss Chesterton admiringly. “Surely a delicate sense of propriety must make any woman—nay, any man, as well—modest in behaviour.” As she concluded, she favoured him with a very open and approving look, smiling warmly. Darcy, his thoughts going instantly to Miss Bingley and her frequent attempts to put herself before Miss Elizabeth Bennet, as well as her numerous challenges to her brother’s authority, not to mention the occasional brazen manœuvre towards himself, could not but concur. “I agree entirely,” said he, returning her smile. “There can be no surer sign of proper thinking than modest behaviour.”

After some time further looking about the place, and giving Mr. Wilson his shipping instructions, Darcy and Miss Chesterton prepared to leave. As they stepped out onto the street, Miss Chesterton turned and said, “Mr. Darcy…” but here the lady hesitated, her eyes downcast. She appeared to gather her courage, and said, “My hosts are giving a small party this Saturday evening; would you be willing to accept an invitation to attend? I am myself without escort—I…I should very much like to have you be part of the company for the evening.”

Darcy might have been surprised at such an invitation, as lately as the lady had been introduced to him, but he knew that, in Town, people of fashion were wont to form—and in some cases, dissolve—acquaintances much faster than in the country. He smiled, and said, “Of course, Miss Chesterton; it would be a pleasure.”

“You will? Oh, how lovely! Really, I am so delighted…that is, I am very obliged to you, Sir. You will hear from Mrs. Johnson within the day.” With this they parted; Darcy returned home in fine spirits to enjoy an afternoon with his relatives.

He found his Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Jonathan having tea in the drawing-room when he returned. Helping himself to a cup, for which his aunt reproached him, first with a frowning look at him, then with a pointed glance at Goodwin standing in the corner by the door. Darcy bowed to her with a smile, then took a satisfied, and rather noisy, sip; he arched a brow, with an impish grin, at his uncle, who chuckled. “You men behave yourselves,” his aunt reproved them both, but a faint smile played on her lips.

“Fitzwilliam,” said she, as she continued her needlework, “your uncle tells me you met some one in Hertfordshire. Is it so?”

“Well…yes, Aunt,” said he with a pained expression, “but it is nothing.”

His aunt sniffed. “It did not sound like ‘nothing.’ What is her name?”

“Indeed, you need not concern yourself, Aunt Eleanor.”

“Darcy,” his aunt chided him, “you always assume that every woman you meet is well intentioned; if you will not look to your own best interests, then your family must.”

Darcy shook his head. “Believe me, Ma’am, the lady can have no idea of having aroused my interest, and I have no thought of pursuing her acquaintance. It is not to be, and the only effect my feelings can have is to plague the bearer of them.”

Lady Andover looked at him closely and said, not unkindly, “Well enough, Fitzwilliam; if that be the case, I am sorry it should be so. We
do
worry about you, you know: it is time and past time for you to settle.”

“While we are on the subject, Darcy,” his uncle said, “George tells me he introduced you to some one at the Delacroix’s last week; who is
she
, now?”

“Her name is Miss Susan Chesterton. As a matter of fact, I have just left her: she was at the same furnishings warehouse as I this morning.”

Lady Andover said, “And who are
her
people?” Turning to her husband she said, “My dear, do we know any Chestertons?”

That gentleman shook his head slowly, “I do not believe so. Who is she, my boy?”

“Honestly, I know very little about her, aside from having met her at Delacroix’s, and that she is a very charming lady.”

“‘Charming’, you say? I shall make enquiries,” said his aunt primly.

“That is hardly necessary, Aunt Eleanor,” Darcy protested. “I hardly know the lady!”

“Did you spend any time with her at the Delacroix’s ball?”

“We danced…”

“
You
danced?” demanded his aunt.

Darcy nodded. “Twice. And we had a cup of punch. That is all, I assure you.”

“I see. And this morning: you met in passing?”

“No, she was arriving just as I did, and we left together; she has invited me to an evening party this Saturday.”

Lady Andover gave him a look compounded of mild reproof and disbelief. “I shall enquire,” she said dryly. “And when next you allow yourself to be seen buying furniture in the company of a young lady, do let me know beforehand, that I might make sure the proper notices of your betrothal are sent, before you appear in public together.”

Darcy, not having had any prior appreciation of this aspect of the thing, now thought back and realised, not only what might be thought of his outing that morning, but what might
not
be thought of the excursion he had let himself in for with Miss Bingley. His aunt noticed his look of concern. “Is there something else, Darcy?”

Darcy, with a slight grimace, said uncertainly, “I told Miss Bingley I would let her buy some things for a drawing-room I am refurnishing for Georgiana, at Pemberley.”

His aunt stared at him, dumbfounded, and even his uncle winced. His aunt finally said, “I had thought you possessed of some sense, Darcy. What on Earth were you thinking! This
is
the young lady at whose brother’s house you spent the entire autumn, is not it? Well, you might just as well stop by the jewellers while you are out, and buy her a ring—and give the jeweller the hint to spread word to the newspapers, into the bargain.”

Georgiana’s letter, in which she had warned him of Miss Bingley’ use of stratagems, came instantly to Darcy’s mind; but he made what attempt he could to defend himself: “Aunt Eleanor,” he said plaintively, “you know I had no such intention! I had no thought of anything beyond being civil to the sister of my friend, with both of whom I am nearly constantly in company; I mentioned my plans in passing, and she asked if she might help: it was no more than that, at least on my side. I do not see why I should need to watch my tongue every moment of every day!  Men do not ascribe consequence to acts where no such significance is intended.”

His aunt Eleanor gestured to her husband as though to say, “You reason with him!” That gentleman said, “Perhaps that is true, Darcy, but you had better learn to interpret these actions in light of how they will be taken, or you will wake up one morning to find you are married to a woman you barely know.”

Lady Andover sighed deeply, shaking her head, and told him, “I shall attend to it, Darcy. A formal invitation from me, to grant me the favour of her company while pursuing the thankless task of guiding my poor, naïve, insensible nephew in the purchase of some household goods, will be sufficient I should think. But
do
be more careful, for heaven’s sake.”

Darcy nodded. “I shall, Aunt Eleanor,” said he unenthusiastically. “But why must women always seek meanings within meanings, and import deep significance into the simplest civilities?”

“And why must men be always blind to what is plainly in front of their noses?” she asked pointedly, holding Darcy’s eye. His uncle made a gesture of decided warning from behind her shoulder, and Darcy wisely let the challenge go unanswered. She looked quickly around at her husband, however, whose return look of angelic innocence might have explained his successes in Parliament, but, unhappily, in the present case served only to convince his lady of his duplicity. She crossly struck him a blow to the shoulder with her fist, and, rising with dignity, left the room.

“Well done, Darcy,” his uncle said in an aggravated manner. “Now we’ll both be sleeping in the stables. I claim the hayloft.” To which Darcy could reply only with a very sheepish shrug of the shoulders; his uncle lifted himself and went off in search of his wife, to begin the process of making amends. Privately, Darcy was not wholly displeased on his own behalf; his aunt’s scheme would do for Miss Bingley, and it occurred to him that an afternoon in company with Miss Bingley, whilst not precisely the revenge he had thought of for his aunt, in exchange for her having given an unauthorised Society dinner in his home, would still serve well enough.

Darcy went to in his rooms shortly thereafter, where he was surprised to come upon Perkins busily employed in rearranging all his closets; he had not known his man had returned from Meryton. As he entered, nearly every door and drawer was open, and his man was buried to his shoulders in the interior of a capacious wardrobe; various other articles of furniture were liberally bedecked with drapings of clothes, as was his man, himself. With a mixture of pleasure and puzzlement Darcy said, “Perkins! You are back—at least, I trust that is you under all that.”

“Mr. Darcy, Sir,” his man’s muffled voice came from within the wardrobe. Perkins emerged and greeted him with a rather stiff bow, the formality of which was marred by the loose flapping of various sleeves and collars that were festooned about his person. “I returned nearly an hour ago. As you were occupied in the drawing-room, I came up stairs, where,” he finished with some heat, “I found that James had completely rearranged your closets!”

Darcy realized from his tone that this was a catastrophe of the first water; it certainly boded ill for poor James, the footman who had stood in Perkins’s stead while he was away. With some sympathy, he said to his man, “Yes, I see; most unfortunate: well, when you have things back in order, I shall be glad to hear how things went in Meryton.”

Perkins, having been brought to himself by this comment, turned away from his work, and, bowing, said, “I beg your pardon, Sir; I meant no disrespect, but I fear my feelings had got the better of me. I shall report immediately.”

So saying, he divested himself of the several layers of clothing bestowed about him, and, coming almost to stand at attention in the centre of the room with his hands behind his back, began as though reciting at school: “I arrived by coach at two in the afternoon, and, per your instructions, Sir, I took a room at the Boar. Finding Lara…the young lady of my acquaintance…was off for the afternoon, I took advantage of the time allowed me to reacquaint myself with the barman at the Boar. From that individual I learnt that the person we are interested in was a frequent patron, and often spent a fair amount of money standing rounds of drinks for the other officers. I was already aware that in a certain back room of the establishment, there was a nearly constant assembly of those interested in games of chance, and I discovered that the man in question was also to be found amongst them most evenings.

“Later, when my acquaintance came back to work, I had the opportunity to enquire into further aspects of his behaviour. My acquaintance confirmed that the individual was known to show some interest in
Miss Elizabeth Bennet; but my informant believes that his real interest is directed towards a young woman in the town: a friend of my acquaintance, to whom, I am told, the individual has apparently made sincere overtures of a permanent nature.

“I did not feel comfortable accepting this report without more information, so I staid on to attempt to confirm what I had been told. I fear I was unable to do so; I did, however, become sensible during my enquiries that the individual was even more widespread in his interests than at first it appeared: at least one other girl in the town seemed to think
she
was his choice. I also found some of the tradesmen were less than enthusiastic in their opinions of the man, but whether from financial concerns, or concerns where the women of their families were involved, they were reluctant to say. Leaving Meryton on Monday, per our discussion I used the remainder of the time you so generously gave me, Sir, to visit my mother in Bakewell. Her rheumatics are improved, I am happy to report, and she was very touched by the gift she received from you at Christmas. That, Sir, is my report.”

As Perkins spoke, Darcy considered the intelligence he presented. None of it was surprising, but the one thing that concerned him, Wickham’s interest in Miss Elizabeth Bennet, did not, at this juncture, seem too worrisome. He certainly was not pursuing her exclusively. Indeed, if he kept on at his present rate, the little town of Meryton would soon be too small to hold all his schemes and indiscretions, and
Elizabeth would surely hear of his carryings-on; that was Wickham’s greatest weakness: he never could restrain his misdeeds. The entire town of Lambton near Pemberley had eventually been awakened to his character, simply because he could not keep from committing the same sins over and over. Darcy reflected on this, and was reassured.

“Very good, Perkins,” he said. “I think we may rest easy, for a time. I might, perhaps, ask you to go back again, but for now I feel reasonably certain of Miss Bennet’s safety. Oh, and I am very happy to hear you mother is doing well.” And, his own world secure, he took himself off to allow Perkins to finish re-establishing a sense of order and correctness in his.

It was on the following morning that, on the pretext of speaking to her brother, Miss Bingley came to see Darcy with the news that Miss Jane Bennet was arrived in London. “I shall not be able to avoid seeing her, but we cannot allow Charles to know; I am sure he is not yet sufficiently recovered from his regard for her to do so without ill-effect.” Darcy was loath to agree, but neither could he disagree; such a low artifice, knowingly withholding information that would be of first importance to
her
brother and
his
friend, was very wrong. But he knew in his heart that Bingley was not yet ready to meet Miss Bennet again without relapse, and so, reluctantly, he agreed; so now, he told himself, you are become a deceiver, as well: look down on the
ton
, would you? —if this is how you treat your friends, you have little enough to say for yourself. But Bingley was his best friend, and for that reason he was willing to accept the lesser evil of artifice, rather than see the unhappiness and degradation of his friend; he only hoped that Miss Elizabeth Bennet would never hear of any of it.