Page 75 of When Elizabeth's Cat Chose Darcy
Caroline made a sound between a snort and a sigh that conveyed her opinion about Gouldings and Lucases and the quality of dancing partners available in a market town in Hertfordshire.
“Georgiana, dearest,” Mrs. Hurst said, turning the full warmth of elder-sisterly concern upon my sister, “you cannot possibly open with a Goulding. Not at your first assembly. You need someone familiar. Someone safe. Someone who will not steer you like a cart-horse.” She turned to Bingley with the implacable sweetness of a woman delivering an instruction disguised as an observation. “Charles, you are the obvious choice.”
Bingley, who had been following the conversationwith the gradually dawning awareness of a man watching a net close around him, set down his toast. I knew he wished to spend the entire evening with Jane Bennet, just as I had already secured Miss Elizabeth’s first set, but…
“One set, Charles.” Caroline’s voice held the patience of long practice. “Surely that is not too much to ask. You will have the entire evening for your other… engagements… afterwards.”
I considered Bingley’safterwards, but in our society, a man cannot claim more than two dances with any lady unless he wishes to make a public declaration. I had claimed only a single set with Miss Elizabeth. And following Caroline’s suggestion, Georgiana looked at Bingley with the fragile hopefulness of a girl who discovered that wanting something did not exempt her from the disappointment of not receiving it. Her gaze was unbearable in its trust, and I heard myself speak.
“I would consider it a personal favor, Bingley. One set. She needs a familiar face for the first, and I cannot think of a man I would trust more with my sister’s comfort.”
Bingley looked at me, and his glance contained the thing that made Bingley irreplaceable—the capacity to set aside his own desires and accommodate, because someone he loved had asked.
“Of course, old fellow. One set. I should be honored.” He turned to Georgiana with a smile that contained no reservations. “Miss Darcy, I warn you, I am a considerably better dancer than I am a page-turner, which is fortunate, because a worse page-turner would require medical intervention.”
Georgiana laughed. The laugh was small but real, and the realness of it confirmed that the request was right, the arrangement was sound, and the morning was unfolding exactly as it should—other than the empty chair.
A knock at the door, and Bingley’s butler entered with a note on the good tray—the silver one, reserved for correspondence from households rather than tradesmen. He presented it to me. “From Longbourn, sir.”
The handwriting was Mrs. Bennet’s, and something caused me to break the seal to read it immediately.
Dear Mr. Darcy,
I write to request that Elizabeth be permitted to remain at Longbourn through tomorrow. The dinner preparations have left me fatigued, and I find I require my daughter’s assistance with domestic matters. She will rejoin you at Netherfield at her earliest convenience, or attend the assembly from Longbourn with her family, if that arrangement suits.
With thanks for your continued generosity regarding my daughter’s situation,
Yours respectfully,
Mrs. F. Bennet
“From Longbourn?” Caroline asked.
“Mrs. Bennet requests that Elizabeth remain an additional day. She is fatigued from yesterday’s exertions.”
“Oh, poor Elizabeth.” Caroline’s expression conveyed sympathy that appeared more like satisfaction. “Mrs. Bennet does rely upon her rather heavily. I am sure we can manage without her for a day. Georgiana and I can discuss the assembly preparations. I have been thinking about your hair, dearest, and whether you should wear your mother’s pearl pins. I believe the ivory silk rather than the blue would suit you, because the ivory catches candlelight beautifully and one wants to make an impression without appearing provincial.”
“The ivory,” Georgiana agreed, with a confident nod, and that confidence was the thing I had been waiting two years to see—my sister making choices without flinching, deciding without looking to me for permission, and engaging with the ordinary business of being seventeen.
I wrote my reply to Mrs. Bennet, brief, granting the extension.
As Edwards departed with the note, Cinnamon entered through the opening.
She surveyed the room and dismissed Caroline with a flick of her tail, ignoring Bingley’s outstretched hand. Pausing at Georgiana’s ankles, she permitted a brief scratch behindthe ears, and then crossed to my chair and launched herself onto my lap with the proprietary conviction of a creature who had chosen her human and intended to enforce the selection.
Caroline’s sneeze was instantaneous.
“That animal,” she managed, between the second and third detonations, “has the navigational instincts of a homing pigeon and the social grace of a battering ram.”
“She has walked from Longbourn,” I said, settling the ginger weight against my waistcoat. “Her mistress is at home, and Cinnamon has come to remind me of the fact.”
“Or she has come to torment me. The two motivations are not mutually exclusive.”
Cinnamon purred. I scratched behind her ears and thought about the woman who was not here, the dance I would claim tomorrow evening, and the sister who would wear our mother’s pearls.
The morning was warm, the coffee was tolerable, and I had taken every precaution. All would be well.
