Page 87 of The Briar Bargain
"Tomorrow morning, if the weather permits and the bridge is deemed sound, I will accompany Jane and her sister home." Bingley's smile was soft with anticipation. "I do not expect any difficulty. Miss Bennet is of age, and her father seems unlikely to hinder his daughters' happiness."
They played on for a time, the only sounds the soft slap of cards upon wood and the occasional crack of burning wood from the fire, until the door opened and Hurst entered bearing a tray with three glasses and a bottle of champagne.
From Darcy's own contribution to Bingley's cellar, if he was not mistaken.
"My wife has decreed that a toast is in order," Hurst announced without preamble. "Something about celebrating happy news and ensuring that I do my duty as brother-in-law."
"Your wife is very thorough in her social obligations," Darcy agreed. "Though perhaps she meant at dinner, where the women might also partake?"
"She must have meant both." Hurst set down the tray and began working at the cork.
"I have not yet spoken to Mr. Bennet," Bingley said, though he did not complain.
"A mere formality." The cork emerged with a satisfying pop, and Hurst filled the glasses.
"What father would refuse the master of Netherfield? You have four thousand a year and all your own teeth."
"An unassailable case," Darcy replied. "Very romantic."
"Romance is for poets and ladies." Hurst handed them each a glass and raised his own. “To the groom-to-be, and to anyone else with the wisdom to follow his example."
The look he directed at Darcy was anything but subtle.
Darcy chose to ignore it in favour of raising his glass. "To happiness honestly earned."
"To peaceful households and obliging in-laws," Bingley added with a grin.
Darcy drank, the champagne bright and clean on his tongue.
They returned to their cards, though now with an audience of one who offered unsolicited commentary on their play and increasingly elaborate theories about the proper autumnal foods that ought to grace the wedding's breakfast table. The champagne lightened his spirits, until Darcy found himself laughing at Hurst's more outrageous suggestions.
"King," Bingley announced, placing the king of hearts upon the pile with a flourish.
Darcy dutifully counted out his three penalty cards. Then Bingley turned over an ace.
"Four more," he said with satisfaction. "That puts you out, Darcy."
“Well done, Bingley.”
Darcy pushed the cards aside while Bingley gathered in his winnings with boyish pleasure. The easy laughter between them lingered for a moment before the reminder of what lay ahead sobered them both slightly.
Tomorrow would most likely bring the completion of the bridge, the departure of the Bennet ladies, and either triumph or disappointment for Bingley's hopes, though Darcy thought his friend had no reason for concern on that score. For himself . . . well, that remained to be seen.
The memory of his conduct at the assembly in October still stung his conscience.She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me. The words seemed to echo in his mind, as cutting now as they had been careless then. Worse still were the other thoughtless remarks he had made in thefortnight that followed, when he had been fighting his growing attraction to her with every weapon his pride could provide.
Idiot.
He would speak with Miss Elizabeth on their walk tomorrow. Whatever the result, he would meet it as bravely as he knew how. The rest lay in the hands of providence, and perhaps in the generous heart of a certain young lady whose good opinion he valued above all others. The clock struck the hour, and Darcy finally rose from his chair.
But before he could take more than a few steps, the door opened to admit a flustered footman whose livery bore unmistakable signs of mud and water. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Bingley, sir, but Mr. Linton sends his compliments and asks that you come at once. There's been an incident at the bridge."
Bingley was on his feet immediately. "An incident? Is anyone hurt?"
"Not seriously hurt, sir, but . . ." The young man glanced uncertainly between the three gentlemen. "It's Susan, sir. The under-housemaid. Mr. Linton and his men pulled her from the water not twenty minutes past."
Darcy felt his blood chill as the memory of the river flashed in his mind. "She attempted to cross?"
"Aye, sir. Right through the section they were planning to repair come morning, the last bit that needed fixing. Went straight through the planking. They heard the splash and fished her out quick enough, but she's in a right state, sir. Wet through and shaking something fierce."
