The Question of Consent

By DJ Clawson

A sequel to "A Bit of Advice." If you didn't read the last story, go catch up.

Chapter 2 – The Man from the North

It was a long trip to Town, and Darcy was no fan of small talk and got right to the inquisition. Two days prior, Bingley had returned to his townhouse, apparently, to immediately be received not by his steward but by his sister, who explained that she had recently met the earl in question at the opera, during intermission, and he had offered to take her up to his private box. Though the Bingleys held their own regular box, that she would have been a fool not to accept did not have to be mentioned by either party, including the pair in the carriage on an uncomfortable ride in the late season weather. He had just returned from Australia and was still settling his new accounts, but he was most eager to see the opera performed in England again, apparently a regular during his time in Town. He was no great lover of his homeland, considering himself more an Englishman than a Scotsman (like many lowlanders), and had missed all things properly English in Australia. Miss Bingley then went on to give his academic credentials, which did surprise Darcy in the least, though he made no vocal note of it as Bingley went on. Lord Kincaid, the future earl of a small estate and lands near the border of England and Scotland, was well-versed in the modern languages, was quite good at cards, and even a match for Mr. Hurst at chess. (Darcy was surprised to learn that Mr. Hurst excelled at anything, but this he also kept to himself) His apartment, though considerable, was dreadfully empty, and so he often dined at the Bingley townhouse, at least in the few short weeks before he proposed. Caroline said she found him most pleasing, and would make an excellent husband, but she wanted her brother's consent, of course.

"I of course said it was his business to ask me for her hand, if that is to be the procedure," Bingley explained. "And before he could do this, for this was just an hour after my arrival and he was not due again for some time, I inquired to Louisa and she spoke of nothing but praises for this Scottish gentlemen. Even Mr. Hurst, who may rival you in xenophobia – "

"I never said I disliked the Scots," Darcy interrupted.

"Darcy, I know you have traveled the Continent, admired the ruins of ancient Greece, and seen the Arch of Titus and St. Peter's Cathedral. Tell me, have you, with a great estate in the north of England, ever been to Scotland?"

"No," Darcy said.

The point made, Bingley wisely moved on, "Anyway, even Mr. Hurst could find no fault in him, and praised his accent, which he found 'very English.' Anyway, the earl in question quickly arrived for dinner, and were introduced, and made some conversation. I asked about his trip to Australia, and he gave me a mild travelogue, and said if I was ever in want of a greater fortune, I should travel there myself. Then, after dinner, he came with me into my study and asked for her hand."

"How did he do it?"

"... The usual way, I suppose. I'm sorry not to be of help here, but my only experience was my own, and the only thing I really remember about facing Mr. Bennet was I could barely hear him with the pounding in my ears. How I acted I cannot properly recall. Anyway, it was perfectly pleasant but formal affair."

"And your response?"

"You know my response. Do not tease me."

"I mean, what was the precise reason you gave for refusing your consent? If you gave a reason at all. You were not obligated to."

Bingley squirmed in his seat. "I said though I wished Caroline happy, I simply wanted to know him better, as she was my beloved sister. I may have blundered into some speech about that, I can't recall the precise words, but I begged of him a week's time to know him better, and he conceded, and said his love for her would not diminish in a week's time."

"Noble indeed."

"Yes."

"Did you speak to Miss Bingley?" Darcy asked. "After Lord Kincaid's proposal."

"Yes." Bingley turned away uncomfortably and looked instead at the passing landscape. "Yes."

"Bingley, if I'm going to have to worm every last detail from you, then this will be a long trip."

Bingley sighed and gave in. "She inquired as to the reason for my refusal. I said I merely needed to know the man who was to be my brother better."

"Did she know you were stalling?"

"Undoubtedly."

There was a pause.

"I also asked – if she loved him."

"And her reply?"

He did not attempt to imitate his sister's haughty accent. Perhaps at that moment in time, she did not have one. "She asked if it made any difference."

Darcy settled back in the coach seat. "So she does not."

"I confess I have always found Caroline very hard to read ... when she wishes to be, at least. She knows it is an advantageous or at least equal match, and she has been ... well, since your marriage, I would venture to guess that she has probably felt some desperation."

It was probably true. Miss Bingley was nearing thirty, had a younger brother married, and had spent most of her time on a futile endeavor during her prime years, so her prospects were dwindling. But was Lord Kincaid not a good prospect? He was nobility and he was rich and by Bingley's accounts, at least good-looking (Bingley was known for being overboard in his estimations of people's good qualities and so Darcy decided he would judge this Kincaid by himself, but if Caroline Bingley was happy ... it would be hard to find fault in this man, truly).

Darcy confessed the last bit his of his musings out loud to Bingley, who merely shrugged as they approached London, and the road became more busy and the outside noisy. It was a great relief to finally arrive at Darcy's townhouse. "So then, dinner?"

"At seven, yes. I will tell them you are here on business, of course." He added with more seriousness, "Thank you, Darcy."

Darcy had no comment. He merely exited the coach and opened his front door. No message had been sent forth to prepare for his arrival, so the doorman was quite surprised to see him. "Mr. Darcy!"

He nodded, and apparently the outburst was enough to make it to wherever Georgiana was present, because she quickly burst into the hallway and ran to embrace her brother in the doorway. "Brother!" She kissed him on the cheek. "I was not expecting you."

"I was not expecting myself," he said, and did not explain. "Everything is well. I will be in Town only a few days on some business with the Bingleys."

"With the Bingleys? Business?"

He sighed. "It is not for me to understand or explain it. Suffice to say, we are invited to dinner at seven at Bingley's townhouse, if you are inclined to join me, and we will meet Miss Bingley's fiancé."

"Oh, Lord Kincaid!" she said with no surprise, just her usual general enthusiasm. She reminded him of Bingley in many ways, this being one of them, though she had not his natural gregarious with people she did not know intimately. As he could only think first of the trouble it had gotten Charles Bingley into over the years and the pains Darcy had taken to extricate his dear friend from it, he found this difference most pleasant. "I met him when I was walking in the park. He was with Caroline. A very pleasant man."

"And Miss Bingley?" He realized he had to clarify. She did not know of his real reason for being here and he did not yet want to enlighten her. "I mean to say, was she ... happy to be walking with him?"

"Yes, quite. This is the first I've heard of an official engagement, but it does only seem natural, the way they walked together, that they would be now affianced."

"They are not," he clarified. "Or, not officially. Bingley has not given his consent."

Georgiana frowned in confusion. "Why ever not?"

"It is as great a mystery to me as it is to you," he could say in all honestly. "Now if you do not mind, though it is a great pleasure to see you, I must ready myself for the evening. Elizabeth, of course, sends her regards."

"Oh, and Jane?"

"Jane is well." He had a sudden image of his sister swollen like his in-law and felt a tremor down his back. "Will you be joining us for dinner?"

"Of course! And I will not bother you further now, but you must tell me all about Geoffrey and Georgie on the way to the Bingleys. Promise me, brother!"

At this request, he was most ready and willing. "I promise."

Mr. Darcy was indeed a good brother and spent the carriage ride telling her all about Geoffrey and his various tendencies. "Once he learns to climb, we're done for," he commented, and Georgiana found this most amusing. She would join him at Kirkland, for the birth, if it would be imposing - she asked, and he answered that it would certainly not be.

They arrived a bit on the early side, because he was Darcy and he could do that without any social impropriety. Bingley was eager to have him there, looking very much the eager guest in his own home, as he was there so rarely now. "I'm so glad you've come. And Miss Georgiana, of course, you look lovelier every day."

"Thank you, Mr. Bingley. I hope we are not too early."

"No, no, of course not! In fact, you will be here for the earl's entrance, however grand it shall be, I can't presume. Please, come in."

The Darcys were familiar enough with the Bingley townhouse, smaller than theirs but better-used, as it was the rather permanent home of Mr. and Mrs. Hurst as well as Miss Bingley, so even Darcy had to admit that it was kept up a bit more.

As they entered the parlor, Bingley in his usual oblivious exuberance at greeting his guests nearly slammed into a man coming down the steps that Darcy did not recognize. He was not as well-dressed, but a long coat covered respectable attire. Shaggy ringlets of wild, black hair and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses covered most of his face, and he quite nimbly stepped out of the way, and bowed very seriously to Bingley as if it had been entirely his fault. "Mr. Bingley."

"Shall you be back tomorrow?"

"I am afraid so," he said, in a wavering, nervous sort of voice. Darcy noticed he carried a black bag with him. "Daily treatments will continue for some time," he said in a more hushed tone to Mr. Bingley, though not hushed enough to escape Darcy's ears.

"Very well. Tomorrow, then," Bingley said, all smiles as usual as his guest scurried out. He turned immediately to Darcy. "Doctor Maddox. He treats Mr. Hurst's gout, which as of late I understand has become rather insufferable. I know shamefully little about it for a brother, but he is apparently a good doctor with excellent credentials. Went to Cambridge." He added in a quieter tone to Darcy. "He's apparently the fourth doctor they've gone through and the only one they've liked, so I'm inclined to keep him on for as long as they like."

"I see," Darcy said, and inquired no more on the matter as their coats were taken from them and they retired to the parlor, where Bingley was greeted with more fervor by his sister than Darcy could ever remember Caroline greeting Charles Bingley.

"Charles! How is Jane? Is everything all right?"

Darcy realized, of course, that a string of lies had been involved in Bingley's escape to the north, no doubt involving something about Jane's health. He did not interrupt, and as Georgiana at his side made no motion of being aware of anything conspiratorial, he did not impede her from doing anything at the moment.

"Jane is fine. It was merely a fright over nothing," Bingley explained. "I apologize for my sudden absence at such a crucial time in our family."

"Of course. Anything for my sister's health," Miss Bingley said, and turned to Darcy. "Mr. Darcy. Miss Darcy."

"Miss Bingley," he said. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"I hear you are here on some business. How detestable, to be dragged to and fro across the country for things that could perhaps be settled on paper. But at least we can offer you a pleasant meal and some entertainment."

"I have no doubt."

"And surely you have heard the news from Charles? I cannot imagine my brother containing anything." Clearly, love – if that was the case – had done nothing to decrease her dry wit. "Or perhaps your sister enlightened you. She came upon us in the park."

"Yes, I've heard now two accounts, and am eager to meet the man in person who is so highly regarded by everyone he meets," Darcy replied.

"Oh, I think you will like him, even with your very discerning tastes, Darcy," she said. "He is quite a fencer, I hear."

"Is he?" he said.

Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Louisa Hurst, followed by her husband, who hobbled with a cane. "Do not be alarmed," he said, shaking Darcy's hand. "This the best I've done in months. All thanks to that doctor. A miracle worker, I tell you."

"We were lucky to find him," his wife added. "So, Mr. Darcy, what brings you so suddenly to Town?"

Before he could answer, the door opened, and Mr. Bingley rushed to warmly invite the apparent lord into his house. "Lord Kincaid," he bowed. "Welcome."

It was only when James Kincaid stepped fully in, having the servants remove his decorous coat, did the Darcys get a full view of the man. He was not particularly tall, but of good stature for a man, and pleasingly stout. He was dressed not in the ornamentals of his rank (or the pleated skirt of his ancestry) but in a waistcoat of exceedingly fashionable London, and his reddish-brown hair was combed down carefully. His face was full of smiles as he greeted his host, and then of course Miss Bingley, who curtseyed to him as propriety only allowed.

"And please let me introduce Mr. Darcy," Bingley said turning towards them a bit.

"Yes, of course," said Lord Kincaid, and bowed to both Darcys. His accent was undeniably Scottish, but hardly the thick burr of the highlands. Instead, it sounded more of a strange English drawl, like someone from very far north, or most of Darcy's servants, though more respectably intoned. "Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy, I understand you are both connected to Mr. Bingley by marriage."

"Yes, by almost two years," Darcy answered.

"Married two sisters, I believe. Forgive me, I am merely trying to recall what I was told. And Miss Georgiana, it is very nice to see you again."

"And you as well," she said, curtseying. Darcy said nothing.

"Well," Bingley said, "seeing, as we're all hear, shall we begin the meal?"

And a meal it was. The Bingleys were never stingy on food or their guests, and in his bachelorhood Darcy had shamefully found one excuse or another to stay with the Bingleys when he was feeling particularly peckish but not interested in having to figure out a complicated meal plan for himself at Pemberley. That he was quite and observant at dinner was no surprise to anyone, as was his normal habit, or so he assumed that it came as no surprise and there was no clandestine reason for this surprise dinner party. Lord Kincaid directed most of attention to Mr. Bingley, who he was obviously most want to impress (and for the most obvious reasons that they were hardly worth even thinking about), but there were passing glances across the table to Miss Bingley, and Darcy took great pains not to miss one of them. As his best friend and brother, Darcy sat directly to Bingley's left, across from their guest, and so had occasion to interrupt the conversation and inject himself as he saw fit, as he occasionally did.

"I have heard you are quite accomplished in the areas of literature," he said after a long period of silence. "Where did you study, if I might ask?"

"Certainly. St. Andrews. I know it's nothing to Cambridge or Oxford, but my family has a long history there, one that could not be avoided. And parts of the area, I will admit, are quite lovely."

"Yes, it can be quite a tourist attraction in the summer," said Miss Bingley, and the fact that it was neither a witty or cynical comment made Darcy take note of it, but he continued his inquiries as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"And I hear you are an accomplished fencer."

"Well, nothing compared to the great fencing club of Cambridge, Mr. Darcy. Do not think your legacy there has escaped my ears."

"That was a great number of years ago," Darcy said. "I would be want to think that my skills, whatever they might have been, have not deteriorated somewhat with time. So you may wish to consider yourself less impressed."

"We shall have to settle it then. If you can find time, of course, if your busy schedule permits."

"I'm sure some time between appointments can be found."

The conversation quickly turned to other topics, as everyone was quickly to fawn over this earl, except for Bingley, to kept his usual exuberance to a minimum, and Darcy, who was too lost in his own thoughts. As the evening ended, the gentlemen retired to the study, where the time was set for Darcy's 'duel' with Lord Kincaid, who insisted upon being called James. (Darcy insisted on being called 'Darcy' and rolled his eyes at Bingley's stifled giggle) They shook on it, and the prospective suitor exited to say his goodbyes to his beloved.

"So?" Bingley said when the door was barely shut.

"What an agreeable man," Darcy said. "Well educated, pleasing in appearance, a good conversationalist – and Miss Bingley seems pleased."

"But not in love."

He did not respond for a time. He saw the looks passing between them, and they were the proper looks between two people who looked at their respective situations and personalities and saw the force in uniting them, as most proper people did. Perhaps his experience was too colored by the passionate looks he had given Elizabeth when she had been unknowing, or the outward admiration Bingley expressed for Jane within hours of meeting her. Maybe he fancied now that all people should be so horribly in love that they make asses of themselves in company, ignoring everyone else, but he had to remind himself that that was not the way of the world, and this courtship had all of the appearances of being normal. "Well, I don't know if you can expect that, Bingley," he answered at last.

"So?" Bingley, ever full of energy, spun the globe on his desk as if it was a toy. "What do you think of him?"

"You value my opinion over your own sister's?"

"Well, obviously."

Darcy did not think it was particularly appropriate to crack a smile, so he held himself back from doing so, and said most seriously, "He is a most pleasing person. That said, I don't think he is to be trusted with a walking stick, much less your sister."

"And you have a reason for your suspicions?"

"No," he turned, ready to leave the room for the night. "But I am going to find out."

...Nex Chapter – Mr. Bennet's Grand Plan