Henry and the Gardiners spent the morning with her friends, and had just returned home to dress for dining with them, when they heard the sound of a carriage.
Curious, all three peered out the window; they could only indistinctly make out the forms of two ladies, but Henry recognised the livery. He hastily retreated.
"I suppose," he said, blushing all over again, "it is Miss Darcy. She – she told me that she would like to introduce her sister to – to us. I am sorry I did not warn you; I thought they were coming tomorrow."
His uncle and aunt stared. Though very flattered by Miss Darcy's attentions, they had wholly attributed them to good manners. However, Henry's evident embarrassment, along with the circumstances of the previous day, prompted a suspicion of some sort of attachment. At the very least, their acquaintance plainly went farther than anyone had guessed.
Henry was perturbed, and amazed at being so. What if Miss Darcy had said too much in his favour? Miss Georgiana might expect – heaven only knew what. He paced in the back of the room, certain that the meeting would be a disaster, while his uncle and aunt gave him looks that only made everything worse.
In a few short minutes, the young ladies appeared. "Georgiana," said her sister, her voice gentler than he had ever heard it, "this is Mr Henry Bennet, and his uncle and aunt, Mr and Mrs Gardiner. Mr Bennet, Mr Gardiner, Mrs Gardiner – my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy."
Although Henry had heard from Mrs Gardiner's friends that Miss Georgiana was exceedingly proud, a few minutes' observation served to convince him that she was only exceedingly shy, with nothing of her sister's sharp, fearless eye about her.
Miss Georgiana Darcy was tall and womanly, her features good, her expression sensible and good-humoured. She had an abundance of pale brown hair and fine blue eyes, the same shape and colour as Catherine's. She ought to have been a handsome girl; and indeed she was, when taken by herself. But when her bland prettiness was set against Catherine's vivid beauty, as it must often have been, she looked merely a pale shadow of her sister.
Henry, only too familiar with the havoc such a contrast could wreak among sisters, heartily pitied her, and did his best to set her at ease.
Catherine looked at him with unguarded approval, though she only said, "Mr Bingley is coming, as well."
"I shall be very glad to see him," said Henry, just in time to hear Bingley's quick step on the stair.
"Bennet!" he cried. "How are you? It has been too long. I hope your family is well?"
"Quite well," said Henry, unable to retain resentment in the face of such warmth.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner watched all of this with considerable interest. They had long wished to see Bingley – but their suspicions of Miss Darcy and Henry took precedence. Mr Gardiner joined the conversation between Mr Bingley, Miss Georgiana, and Henry, and made discreet enquiries, while his wife took a turn about the room with Miss Darcy.
"I have grown ridiculously frail," she said, leaning heavily on the young lady's arm. "We can sit down, if I am burdening your arm too much."
"Oh, no," said Miss Darcy. "I am very strong."
"That is exactly what my nephew says," said Mrs Gardiner, laughing. Miss Darcy flushed. "Have you known him long?"
"Almost a year."
"Henry and Miss Georgiana seem to be getting on quite well."
Miss Darcy gazed at them with an expression at once grave, pleased, and wistful. "Yes, I thought they would," she said artlessly. "If anybody could draw her out, it would be Mr Bennet. – He has a most engaging manner."
Mrs Gardiner smiled, satisfied. "Yes, he does."
Of the gentleman's sensations they remained a little in doubt; of the lady's, however, they were certain. At least one of them knew what it was to love.
While the others were preoccupied, Bingley said to Henry, "It has been a very long time since we had the pleasure of meeting. – It is above eight months! We have not met since the twenty-sixth of November, when we were all dancing at Netherfield."
"Your memory is very exact," said Henry. "I believe it was, though I had not recalled the precise date."
Bingley made idle conversation for a few minutes; then he dropped his voice and asked, "Are all your sisters still at Longbourn?"
"Jane and Kitty are," Henry replied, smiling. "Lydia has accompanied the colonel's wife to Brighton."
"I hope she will enjoy her stay there," said Bingley.
"I am certain she shall."
Their visitors stayed about a half-hour, and when they arose to depart, Miss Darcy and Miss Georgiana invited Mr and Mrs Gardiner and Mr Bennet to dinner at Pemberley. Mrs Gardiner looked at Henry, who scarcely knew what to think or where to look, but nodded his acquiescence.
"We would be honoured," she said. "Which evening would be most convenient?"
"A number of my cousins have threatened to descend upon me tomorrow," said Miss Darcy, "so – the day after that, perhaps?"
"That would suit our plans admirably."
They left, and Mr and Mrs Gardiner, and Henry, went to dress for the evening's engagements. The latter's thoughts were, if anything, even more at Pemberley than on the previous night. He laid awake for two whole hours, trying to decide what to do.
He certainly did not hate her; her attachment to him had long ceased to be repugnant to his feelings; quite the contrary. He was fascinated by her; perhaps he had always been so. After all that he had discovered, he even admired her, liked her. Above all of these, however, he felt grateful – grateful not only that she had loved him once, but for loving him well enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of his rejection, to accept the kernels of truth amidst his unjust accusations.
He had been left with no doubts that she would accept a proposal; now he had only to decide whether he wished to offer one.
That evening, Mr Gardiner had accepted Miss Darcy's offer of her river and tackle; he and Henry were to meet some of the gentlemen at Pemberley by noon. Mrs Gardiner had decided that such a striking civility as Miss Georgiana's, in coming to see them on the very day of her arrival, ought to be imitated, and therefore intended to call on the ladies of the house at about the same time.
Henry, therefore, spent a good part of the day in an activity he had no interest in, longing to be somewhere else, with nothing but the scenery to appeal to him. He felt convinced the trout were amusing themselves at his expence.
The cousins had apparently made good on their threat; at least, one fashionable young man referred to some inconvenient debts and added, "God bless Cousin Kate!"
"Kate? You have sunk to borrowing from a woman?" cried his brother. "Have you no shame?"
"Shame is a luxury of the rich. – Kate understands that well enough. Besides, I will get it back soon enough and then I shall repay her in whole."
"Kate understands nothing of the kind! I grant you she is clever in her way, but – "
Henry's pole jerked. "I beg your pardon," he said.
After what seemed several hours more, they finally returned to the house. He had not known whether he more anticipated or dreaded meeting her again; he was favouring anticipation when they entered the saloon, and he began to regret that he had come.
She was accompanied by Bingley's sister, Mrs Gardiner, and a number of other young ladies, many of whom seemed to be related to her, for most of the visit. He could not imagine that she had spoken of – of anything concerning only themselves, but plainly suspicions had somehow been roused. The moment he entered, every eye in the room seemed to settle upon him, and again whenever he spoke to her.
This could not have been above four or five times; when they did talk, she was exactly as he had become accustomed to seeing her, but there were few opportunities. Henry gave it up early on and divided his time between watching her, making conversation with Bingley and Miss Georgiana, and avoiding Colonel Fitzwilliam.
He thought of striking up a conversation with one of the Darcy cousins – several of them were very pretty – but did not bother.
Catherine would be distressed, he told himself nobly, and glancing in her direction, found her listening to Mrs Gardiner with an expression of acute interest, to all appearances oblivious to him.
Henry chuckled softly, and admitted that, whatever Catherine's role in his indifference, it was indeed indifference that he felt. He certainly could not dredge up enough interest to invest his time in a conversation of any significance. Like Miss Georgiana before them, they all seemed lesser versions of Catherine.
He was very nearly persuaded that he ought to marry her and be done with it.
Henry's party left shortly thereafter. They talked of everything and everybody but the person they were all most interested in – her sister, her friends, her house, her fruit, everything but herself; yet Henry longed to know what they thought of her, and the Gardiners would have been highly gratified by their nephew's beginning the subject.