He bowed, "Charles Bingley," he said.
Darcy returned the bow. "Fitzwilliam Darcy."
"Yes, I know," Bingley replied. "That is to say I've seen you around London. At the theatre mostly and once in a book shop."
"I see."
Bingley's eyes darted around the room. "Are you sure this isn't a mistake? I expected to be ushered into a monk's cell."
"I believe there's still a cell down in the basement. We can arrange the move in the morning if you like."
A look of horror crossed Bingley's face as he stared at Darcy. Then he laughed. "Thank you, but no. I'll be just fine here.
"Good," Darcy replied. He went to the bar and poured two glasses of wine. "Take a seat, Bingley. You look exhausted.
Bingley obeyed and dropped into one of the leather armchairs near the fireplace. He accepted the glass that Darcy offered and sighed. "It's just that I'm rather overwhelmed at the way things have turned out. Honestly, I didn't expect to get admitted to King's college. Then when I did, I dashed off a nonsensical letter to Mr. Waltham asking for advice. Next thing I get a letter from Guy Waltham saying he'd secured lodgings for me. Then I get here and find these rooms almost palatial." He took a deep breath "I suppose I'm in shock."
Darcy sat across from him. "I understand that you've had a tiresome day."
Bingley rolled his eyes and a wry smile crossed his pleasant features. "tiresome doesn't describe it. It was a complete disaster. But I would prefer not to talk about it. At least not for another ten years. I should have recovered by then."
Darcy laughed in genuine amusement. Bingley was proving to be a likable chap and he began to relax.
They sat in a comfortable silence for several minutes until Bingley broke the silence. "Mr. Darcy, I can't tell you how grateful I am for allowing me to share these rooms. The letter I posted to Mr. Waltham was in truth nothing more than an act of desperation which I regretted the minute the deed was done. I was at a low-point and needed some guidance. I was floored when I received a reply from his son. I can't imagine what they must think of me imposing myself on them like that."
"I can assure you that they felt no imposition. They were happy to be of assistance. Did you know that Guy Waltham and I were roommates during my first year?"
Bingley was surprised. "No, I did not," he said.
"Well, we bumped into each other last month and I happened to mention that I needed a new roommate and he suggested you and it was a done deal. As easy as that, so don't be uneasy."
Bingley seemed relieved at the lie.
The next hour passed swiftly. Bingley took advantage of Darcy's knowledge and asked question after question which Darcy attempted to answer as best he could. His curiosity seemed insatiable. In essence, he wanted no surprises; he wanted to be fully prepared for everything. His questions were probing and intelligent and he digested every fact.
Darcy was impressed. Bingley was proving that he was articulate, amusing and eager to learn. His self-confidence however needed some serious work.
"I don't suppose," Bingley asked "whether you know what percentage of new students fail in the first year?"
Darcy suppressed a smile and shook his head. "That's information that mercifully I cannot help you with."
"Do you think it might be a good idea to hire a tutor?"
"Good heavens, Bingley, try to relax. You're going to do just fine. You passed your entrance exams so you know how to study and apply yourself. You'll meet other students facing the same problems and you'll band together into study groups and learn despite yourself. And you only hire a tutor if you're failing a subject not before you even attend one class.
Bingley rubbed his forehead. "I've been having nightmares for the past month
"What sort of nightmares?"
Bingley shrugged, "Mostly about hungry sharks wanting me for supper."
Darcy laughed out loud. "I can top that!" he said. "Two days before my first class I dreamed I was standing in a huge room surrounded by hundreds of students all dressed in their black robes and mortarboards. On the stage in front of me was this apparition draped in a monk's cowl which completely covered his face. I could hear the echo of his voice reverberating all about me. I knew that he was our instructor. Trouble was, he wasn't speaking English. I looked around and saw that all the students were nodding sagely. Their tassels kept bobbing up and down and I couldn't tear my eyes away from those damned tassels. Mentally I ran though all the possible languages he could be speaking and eventually settled on Mandarin. I woke up in a sweat wondering how I was supposed to learn Mandarin in two days and why hadn't someone warned me that all the classes at Cambridge were taught in Chinese."
Bingley was laughing convulsively trying to catch his breath. Darcy laughed with him. "When I woke the next morning," Darcy continued, "I had forgotten the whole nightmare. But at breakfast, I took a sip of coffee and the dream suddenly flashed through my mind and I was frozen in fear. I started to choke and Waltham jumped up and slapped me on the back assuming I had choked on a piece of bread. Then I started to sneeze. By now, my eyes and nose were running and I was desperately wiping at them trying to retain some modicum of decorum. According to Waltham, my face was aflame and he was terrified that I was having some kind of fit. I started to laugh and this didn't help to assuage his fears. I was on the brink of asking him if it was true that all the classes were taught in Chinese but thought better of it."
It wasn't until the campanile began to ring out the seventh hour that both Darcy and Bingley were able to control their mirth.
When the tolling of the bells ceased, Darcy stood up and stretched. "Do you play chess?"
"Yes, " Bingley replied. "I spent many an hour playing with my father. I thought I might even join a club here."
Darcy nodded. "Grab your jacket, Bingley. I'll introduce you to the Queen's Rook better known as the QR."
As they left their quarters, they were joined by other students from the upper floor. Darcy introduced Bingley around and together their small group left the building for a night of fun. It had grown dark by now but there was a full moon and there were dozens of torches affixed to posts which afforded them with ample light. Occasionally as they made their way, they were joined by other students, some strangers to Darcy and others well known. They were all glad to see each other and a feeling of excitement pervaded the air. By the time they reached the square where Darcy had shopped earlier, their group had turned into a small crowd but quickly began to disburse as most of the students broke awayand headed towards their favorite haunts.
Darcy and Bingley lingered only a few moments longer as Darcy pointed out the various shops and cafes. It was getting late and they picked up the pace and hurried across the square.
They heard the roar of voices before they rounded the corner and came upon the massive two story structure. The building was made of brick and block and had stood mighty and awesome for more than fifty years. A wide veranda encircled it's majesty allowing it's patrons to look down at the river Cam. There were signs posted that swimming was absolutely forbidden. Unfortunately, these instructions were regularly ignored. At least once a year a drunken merrymaker fell or jumped into the swift waters and either drowned or hopefully learned his lesson.
Darcy and Bingley entered the building and were immediately assailed with the noise and a delicious aroma that stopped Bingley in his tracks. "Good heavens," he shouted to be heard, "what is that smell? It makes my mouth water."
"Best food in town, Darcy shouted back.
There were two bars, one on either side of the room, each twenty feet long. The bar on the right served nothing but drinks while the one on the left had baskets of sausage rolls, meat pies and fruit tarts. Dozens of young men crowded around both bars jockeying for a better position, shouting their orders.
With Bingley following close behind, Darcy pushed through the rowdy crowd, steered past the scores of small tables and finally reached the steep staircase which led to the upper landing. They climbed quickly and opened the door at the top. A short walk down the hall and they reached their destination at last.
The room held six long tables and benches. Upon their lengths were baskets of crusty bread, plates of creamy butter and short stacks of colorful bowls. Each table could manage sixteen students comfortably and most tables were already full. Waiters were wheeling in large serving carts loaded with steaming tureens of a hardy beef stew.
Darcy heard his name called and acknowledged it with a wave. He and Bingley headed for a one of the riverside tables.
Darcy was greeted with jovial enthusiasm and Bingley was welcomed cordially. Several students made room for the newcomers and Darcy found himself sitting across the table from Bingley. They reached for the bowls and filled them with the rich stew. Baskets of bread were emptied quickly and refilled several times. Tankards of ale were never allowed to run dry. Except for the clinking and clanking of the spoons and knives silence had descended the room as the students ate and drank their fill.
Slowly, repletion set in and several sighs of satisfaction could be heard. Soon conversation began again.
Joshua Smith, a fourth year student and valued friend of Darcy leaned over and spoke softly, "I ran into dear Wickham last night."
Darcy threw him a look, "where?"
"Near the bridge. He and a rough-looking bloke were coming from the direction of your building. Naturally I thought he was still rooming with you. But he said he had found quarters on the other side of the river."
"He apparently tried to get into my rooms last night but Roger stopped him."
"Well done, Roger! He was properly rewarded I trust."
"One bottle of gin."
Smith smiled cheekily. "With Wickham on the loose, you'd better buy a case of gin."
Smith turned his attention to Bingley asking several polite questions about where his home was, what classes he would take, which clubs he was interested in, and finally, whether he played chess?" When Bingley answered in the affirmative to his last inquiry, Smith turned to his fellows and shouted "fresh meat!"
Bingley suddenly found himself the center of attention. He looked to Darcy for some guidance.
"My friends are always eager to meet devotees of the game." Darcy said. "I also believe they might be interested in how well you play." Darcy fixed his eyes on Bingley, waiting.
Bingley thought for a moment, then said, "I know the rudiments of the game. It's a board game with sixty four squares."
Darcy nodded, and turned to his friends. "Perhaps you can give him a few lessons, boys," he said. "I'm sure that Bingley will prove to be an excellent student."
"Since it's getting late and I suspect we are all rather weary," Smith addressed Bingley," what say we just play one or two lightening rounds. Say, ten minute rounds? Do you think you can keep up?"
Bingley laughed, "I'll try if you promise to revive me when I faint."
They all laughed at Bingley's response and as one they stood and stretched before leading Bingley through one of the side doors where a dozen or so tables were set up for the games.
Darcy and Smith remained behind for a few moments.
Smith eyed his friend. "A board game with sixty-four squares?"
Darcy threw his head back and laughed. "He has a well developed sense of humor."
"How did he come to be your roommate?
"I ran into Guy Waltham last month and he recommended him."
"How is Guy?"
"Very well. In good health and working hard. He's promised me a visit in London during the Christmas holidays and hopes you'll be able to join us."
Smith smiled broadly, "sounds wonderful. It's a date."
The two friends talked for a while before Smith left to see how things were progressing in the chess room.
Darcy strolled around the room stopping for brief chats with students who didn't play chess. They exchanged news and gossip about old friends who had graduated. There were questions about Wickham which Darcy shrugged off with few details. At length he sauntered into the chess room. He wandered around the room stopping occasionally to view a match but soon grew weary. He ended up at Bingley's table just as his opponent turned his king on it's side and slid a shilling across the table.
Smith, who had been observing the match looked at Darcy, "your Mr. Bingley seems to know his way around the sixty-four squares. Of course it didn't help that his opponent insisted on a fourth tankard of ale."
Bingley thanked his opponent, John Mills, for the match and shook his hand. Mills responded with a smile, "I hope you'll join our chess club, Bingley. It's been a pleasure."
Darcy and Bingley bid everyone good night soon after and followed several students down the stairs. The tables which earlier had been full of happy patrons were now mostly empty though there were still some die-hards lounging and drinking. The waiters were clearing tables of tankards, others were sweeping up the dust and crumbs left behind from the evening's revels. There was a sense of urgency at the drinks bar as the clock moved inexorably towards the twelfth hour when the the doors of the Queen's Rook would lock the doors for the next eleven hours.
Outside, Darcy hired two burly torch bearers to lead them home in safety. They passed several students who were having trouble keeping their balance to their own amusement. At the square a few students milled around chatting happily but the mood was now less exuberant; bowls and plates of rich food washed down by several tankards of ale had taken it's toll. Exhaustion had set in and at least for the students on this side of the river Cam, the evening was quickly coming to a close.
Back in their rooms Darcy offered Bingley a brandy but it was declined. "I'm dead on my feet," he said. "I've got to get some sleep."
"Bed sounds good. I'll bid you good night, Bingley, and sleep well."