November 1816, Hertfordshire

 

Little Anne crawled up onto one of the seats of the carriage, and sat on both of her knees while pressing her face up tight against the window to look out. Darcy smiled at the blonde girl, and he kept a hand on her shoulder to steady his niece if the carriage jolted.

“And what do you call that?”

Georgiana pointed out the window to the steeple of a country church. The little girl screwed her face up into an adorable pout, and she turned to Darcy and blinked her eyes adorably and asked with a child’s lisp, “Please, Uncle Will? A hint.”

Darcy laughed. “No, sweet, you must learn to remember words on your own.”

The little girl settled herself on Darcy’s lap and stared out the window with a frown.

Georgiana smiled at them, “It begins with a 's'.”

Eventually they prompted the girl into saying steeple, and a new target was chosen.

As Georgiana played with her daughter, Darcy lost himself in a reverie. The road was rural, but decently maintained. Darcy believed they had just passed through Meryton, the market town closest to Bingley’s estate. There should only be another twenty minutes until they saw his friend again and could rest from the long road.

He hoped Georgiana would be happy here.

This was the first time she would be the guest of another family since Anne was born. Until Mrs. Bingley visited Pemberley with her husband this summer, Georgiana had not been part of a friendly conversation with another gentlewoman for four years.

It had surprised Darcy that Bingley took his wife into such a harbor of vice as Pemberley had become. He openly allowed an unmarried mother to stay resident. Jane Bingley was such a sweet woman that Darcy understood immediately. Her angelic nature was such that nobody could think ill of her. Mrs. Bingley and Georgiana immediately took to each other, and Georgiana, who Darcy realized then had been gasping for female conversation, soaked up all of the attention the other woman gave her during the Bingleys’ weeks of residence at Pemberley.

Bingley a few months later extended an invitation for Georgiana and Darcy – and of course darling little Anne — to repay their visit and join them at Netherfield. Mrs. Bingley had written the letter of invitation in her neat feminine hand, promising in Bingley’s words deuced fine hunting and excellent opponents at billiards when the weather did not allow them to ride or shoot, while for herself Mrs. Bingley wrote Georgiana would be very welcome, and likely to make friends.

Georgiana had been so lonely, with no other woman to speak to.

A soft drizzle fell from the sky when the carriage turned up the drive to Bingley’s house. The driveway was bordered on both sides by lush evergreen Italian cypresses, and then the carriageway opened up to show a handsome red brick building of two stories and near hundred feet on a side. Heavy white marble columns framed the portico on which Mr. Bingley and his wife stood protected from the rain with several servants.

As soon as a footman opened the door, Darcy stepped out and turned around so Anne might exit by jumping to him. She delightedly shrieked as she jumped. The girl had been wonderful, but she was worn down a little by the two days of constant travel, and she would be happy to be able to run around on solid ground again. Darcy easily caught her and twirled Anne around before he softly lowered her to the ground. Anne laughed and ran to the blonde angelic Mrs. Bingley, who greeted the little girl with a friendly smile.

Georgiana exited the carriage more slowly, carefully stepping on the little platform and holding the footman’s hand. Darcy was not able to help her out as Bingley had immediately seized his hand, and shook it vigorously.

“You look fine! All three of you. Deuced fine. Mud on road? Of course not — quite good time. Quite good. Delighted! Deuced good to see you.”

Bingley threw his arm out and gestured expansively at his estate, “Welcome to Netherfield. Welcome! Fine building, don’t you say?”

The crowd hurriedly entered the house, as the early winter air had a sharp bite. The entry hall was tiled with black and white marble diamonds. A large brass chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the rows of tall mullioned windows illuminated the twelve-foot-tall paintings hung about the walls. The woodcarvings in the ceiling were exquisite.

Bingley grinned at Darcy. “No Pemberley, but she is home.”

“You did well for yourself.”

“Ha! Darcy, you know not the half of it.” Bingley put an arm around his blushing wife. “The estate came with a woman.”

Mrs. Bingley giggled, somehow elegantly, and smiled up at her husband. “I was not in the lease articles.”

“To the nursery. To settle Anne — eager to see Bennet again?”

Anne smiled and nodded. She was not nearly so lonely as Georgiana since she was friends with the children of the servants and tenants, but she had managed well with Bingley’s son who was a year younger than her. Darcy far preferred his niece making playmates of persons gentle born, like herself.

The cavalcade proceeded upstairs, surrounded by the Bingleys’ servants. The nursery door was opened, and the sleeping Bennet was woken up, crying. But he remembered Anne, and they were cleaned off and left to play under the supervision of both nurses.

Darcy and Georgiana were led to their spacious rooms, and they washed off the dust from the lengthy journey. When they entered the drawing room to rejoin their hosts, Bingley stood and happily waved his hands around in large circles. "At home! At home! Darcy, Georgie, consider Netherfield home. And down, down. Sit down."

The drawing room was well appointed with thick rugs, a few vases full of flowers acquired from a conservatory despite the season, and thick stuffed sofas. A large piano with the Broadwood maker’s mark stood in the corner, and there was a large angled desk for drawing in another. It was fashionably and elegantly decorated, displaying excellent taste and a preference for durability and comfort over catching the height of fashion. The room snugly fit Darcy's understanding of Mrs. Bingley’s character. A portrait of Mr. and Mrs. Bingley with their son clasped in Mrs. Bingley's arms rose above the grey marble fireplace, and the couches and chairs all used a uniform yellow and blue color scheme.

Bingley repeated several times, as Darcy glanced around the room, “I’m deuced glad to see you again. Deuced glad. It was far too long. Far too long.” Without allowing any silence to grow, he exclaimed, “Tomorrow! An assembly is to be held tomorrow, you both must come. It will be an excellent chance to meet the neighborhood. I’m deuced glad to see you! Jane’s family — you shall meet them there—”

“Bingley, I am not certain…”

“It is no lack of concern,” Mrs. Bingley spoke, “Lizzy, Mama and Papa had thought to call today, but Lizzy thought you might not wish to deal with a crowd of new people after two days of travel. Rest, tea, a fine bath, and the company of dear friends, she said. Tomorrow we will prepare for the assembly ball — Lizzy and Mama as well — Papa never attends assemblies — a three miles trip between Longbourn and here, so most convenient if we meet at the ball. Georgie, I am so eager for you to meet Lizzy — you also, Mr. Darcy.”

Unease blossomed in Darcy's stomach. It was a poor idea to try attending an assembly. Georgiana’s color and expression said she felt the same. A girl with her history attending an assembly would be bold indeed. Such would show disrespect to the community. “I do not think an assembly is a good idea.”

“Ridiculous!” Bingley slammed his hand against his arm rest. He spoke in a bluff voice, as though no other interpretation was possible. “A friendly neighborhood. Why, I had not been here two weeks before it was as though I had known everyone half my life. Such friends. Not two weeks! I told everyone — Jane too — Georgie Darcy is the sweetest girl in the United Kingdom. Upon my honor, France too.”

Darcy saw in the tilt of Georgiana’s face a little hope. She was wondering if she could attend a ball. Every girl liked balls, even the shyest, and his failure to protect her had deprived his sister of that chance. Darcy desperately wished she could enjoy the life a woman of her birth and position ought to be able to.

Bingley gripped his wife's hand and said, “Janie, you told other ladies — at those no-men present calls and garden parties and nonesuch — you told how admirable a girl Georgie is?”

“Lizzy is eager to meet you. Despite” — Jane blushed and looked away — “you are a good girl. No kind Christian creature could think it improper if you attended an assembly. No! I am unable to imagine such. I have lived in this neighborhood my entire life. I know everyone most intimately — everyone. You only lived with poor Mr. Wickham” — Darcy harrumphed at him being described as “poor”, dying at Waterloo had been much too good for the man — “a bare handful of days — you acknowledge your fault and it has been some years. We possess Christian charity here.”

Showing the killer instinct which Bingley only possessed when press ganging his friends into society, Bingley sensed Georgiana’s weakness. “Pray do, do promise you will come, Georgie! You’ll enjoy the dance so much. Aha! I see your eyes. That smile. A ball catches your fancy. Do promise to come — I will have a terror of the time dragging Darcy without you. If he does not come we…we might as well all stay home. That would be melancholy — your brother stands so tall and he cuts a terrifying figure on nights when he has nothing to do.”

Georgiana laughed, nervously.

She looked at Darcy, her eyes attempting to see what his opinion was.

Darcy frowned. Bingley sounded so sure… “We” — Darcy gestured between Georgiana and himself — “we flee self-deception. Georgiana is a fallen woman; she will be seen by your neighborhood, by any neighborhood, as such. It is exceedingly improbable that—”

“You always worry — remember that time at Cambridge! I was right then!"

"Which time at Cambridge?" Darcy smiled thinly, too worried for his sister to be amused.

Bingley gesticulated wildly. "You know when, we—" His face reddened, and he coughed, and he looked between the women. "It went very well indeed."

Darcy looked at Bingley as though he had no memory of the particular evening involving too much strong drink, two goats, three university dons, the nudity of a mutual friend, and a grand view of the sun rising over the university town while sitting on the slippery roof tiles of a tall building. "Could you add specifics? I am unsure what event you refer to — that is all I have to say about that time. It ended well, in the end."

"I know my neighbors. By my word, friendliest persons in all England.”

Darcy rubbed his chin. Georgiana’s blue eyes were downcast. She awkwardly smoothed out the sleeve of her dress again and again.

She wanted to go. She would receive some rudeness. But it likely would go no further than refused introductions. Bingley was the largest landowner in the region and his father-in-law was, from what Darcy understood, the second.

Georgiana would like to watch the ball, even if she could not participate in it. And she would at least be able to dance with himself and Bingley. Every opportunity to enjoy a season and the entertainments young girls fantasize about had been cruelly held distant from her. Every woman, Darcy had been made to understand, thought a ball was a wonderful thing.

“Well, if you are sure it shall not cause a scandal.” Darcy sighed, fearing this was an error. “We shall attend tomorrow.”

Georgiana’s worried smile at Darcy’s pronouncement was almost painful.

Mrs. Bingley clapped her hands. “Now you need something perfect to wear, Georgie.”