Page 54 of Grief and Grievances
“Good day to you, sir,” Darcy said, extending the letter towards the postmaster. “I require this to be sent to London straightaway.”
“Of course, Mr. Darcy.” The postmaster took the letter, sparing only a brief glance before affixing the necessary postage. “It shall leave on the next mail coach.”
“Thank you,” Darcy replied, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would betray the importance of the missive. With a curt nod, he turned and exited the post office, his heart slightly lighter.
As he untied his horse, Darcy considered his next move. He longed to know more about the situation at Longbourn, yet he dared not call upon the Bennets alone—such an action would surely arouse suspicion. Instead, he decided to visit their less discerning relative, Mr. Phillips. Perhaps the local attorney or his gossipping wife would have some insight into the mood at the Bennet household.
Upon reaching Mr. Phillips’ residence, Darcy rapped lightly on the door, his anxiety mounting with each passing moment. The door opened to reveal Mr. Phillips himself, a genial smile crossing his round face at the sight of his distinguished visitor.
“Mr. Darcy! What a pleasant surprise!” he exclaimed. “To what do I owe the honour of your presence?”
“Mr. Phillips,” Darcy began, striving to maintain an air of casual interest. “I merely wished to inquire about your family and their well-being. It has been some time since we last met.”
“Well, that is very good of you, sir!” Mr. Phillips replied, as he ushered Darcy into his modest sitting room. “My nieces are all in good health, I am happy to report. And I hear that Miss Bennet is quite delighted with your friend Mr. Bingley’s return to Netherfield.”
“Indeed,” Darcy allowed himself a small smile, glad for the happiness of his friend and Jane Bennet. “Their attachment appears to be progressing well. However, I could not help but wonder if there have been any... disturbances within the family. One hears such talk at times, and it concerns me.”
“Disturbances? I cannot say that I am aware of any serious matters troubling my sister’s family at present,” Mr. Phillips replied, furrowing his brow. “Though, of course, one can never predict what lies ahead.”
“True enough,” Darcy said, masking his disappointment. “Well, I thank you for your time, Mr. Phillips. I shall take my leave now, as I have other engagements to attend to.”
“Ah, there is one matter I nearly forgot,” Mr. Phillips said as Darcy prepared to leave. “My sister’s youngest daughter, Lydia, was quite disappointed when she was not allowed to accompany the Forsters to Brighton. Wise of Mr. Bennet to forbid her going, I think, she is too young to be only under the supervision of a woman such as Mrs. Forster, barely older than Lydia herself..”
“Indeed,” Darcy replied, surprised by this admission but careful not to betray his concern. He thanked Mr. Phillips once more and took his leave, now with another piece of information to contemplate.
Upon returning to Netherfield, Darcy found himself wandering aimlessly through the house, still preoccupied with the concerns of Longbourn. Eventually, he found himself at a window overlooking the garden, where an unexpected sight greeted him: Bingley, pacing back and forth, gesticulating wildly, and speaking passionately to an invisible audience—or rather, an invisible Jane Bennet.
“Dearest Jane, from the moment I first set eyes upon you, I knew that my heart was irrevocably lost,” Bingley fervently proclaimed. “The sweetness of your smile, the gentleness of your nature, the warmth of your regard—all have conspired to make me the happiest of men, if only you will do me the honour of becoming my wife.”
Darcy watched his friend’s nervous rehearsal with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. It was evident that Bingley’s feelings for Jane had blossomed into something profound, and yet, Bingley hesitated to take the decisive step.
“Jane, my love, you must know how ardently I admire and adore you,” Bingley continued, his voice trembling slightly. “To be united with you in marriage would be the fulfilment of my fondest dreams.”
“Mr. Bingley,” Darcy called out softly, stepping into the garden.
Bingley started, looking equal parts relieved and mortified to have been caught in such an unguarded moment.
“Ah, Darcy,” he stammered, attempting to regain his composure. “I was just... practising.”
“Rehearsal is all well and good, but it is time you put your words to the test,” Darcy advised, clasping his friend on the shoulder. “Speak to Miss Bennet herself. Do not let uncertainty weigh upon your heart any longer.”
Bingley’s countenance clouded with doubt, and he hesitated, casting his gaze to the ground. “But what if the timing is not right? What if my proposal would be better received at another juncture?”
“Charles,” Darcy said firmly, “you have waited long enough. Miss Bennet’s affections are plain to see, and I am confident that she will welcome your suit.” Inwardly, he marvelled at the contrast between his own tumultuous emotions and Bingley’s simple, open-hearted love for Jane.
Bingley nodded, taking a deep breath as he considered Darcy’s advice. His eyes shone with newfound resolve, and he straightened his shoulders, determination setting in. “You are right, Darcy. I shall call on Longbourn this very afternoon and speak to Jane. The time has come for me to act.”
As Bingley strode back toward the house, Darcy watched him go, reflecting on how easily his friend had found the courage to face his heart’s desire. If only he, too, could find such conviction when it came to Elizabeth Bennet.
Darcy stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the path that led to Longbourn, as the lingering warmth of the day gradually gave way to the cool embrace of twilight. His heart pounded in anticipation, each beat a silent echo of the question that consumed him: would Bingley’s suit be accepted?
He fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve, the fine linen suddenly feeling rough and cumbersome against his skin. An involuntary sigh escaped his lips, and he chided himself for his lack of composure. After all, it was Bingley who had taken the plunge into uncharted waters, not he. And yet, Darcy could not fully separate his friend’s fate from his own. If Jane were to accept Bingley’s hand, might not Elizabeth be more inclined to do the same for him?
“Brother?” The soft voice of Georgiana came from the doorway, her eyes filled with concern as she regarded her brother. “You have been standing there for nearly an hour. Are you quite well?”
“Indeed, I am well, Georgiana,” Darcy replied, tearing his gaze from the window and offering her a reassuring smile. “I merely await Mr. Bingley’s return.”
“Ah,” Georgiana murmured, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “And with his return, we shall learn whether Miss Bennet has consented to become Mrs. Bingley.” Mr. Bingley had declared his intentions to all and sundry when leaving the house, ignoring his sister’s cries that it was much too soon, that he should wait.
