"What's wrong, Bingley?"
"I'm a nervous wreck! That's what."
Darcy rolled his eyes. "Sit down," he growled, "and drink your coffee."
Bingley obeyed but was not happy about it.
"I will go over this one more time." Darcy spoke patiently. "There is absolutely nothing to worry about. Everything will move speedily and efficiently. At half past eleven we will take a leisurely stroll to King's College. Once we gain entrance you will see a dozen signs which if you are not half-witted will lead you to a bulletin board upon which you will find your name. You will then take your pencil out and very carefully write down everything you see in your notebook. You will write down your counselor's name, the building and the room number. And most important, the date and time you are to appear before said counselor. After that you can come back here and pace all you want as long as it's outside and not in here."
Through this recital, Bingley had fixed his eyes on Darcy seemingly with intense concentration. Once Darcy had ceased talking, Bingley said, "sarcasm does not become you, Mr. Darcy."
"I've heard that before, Mr. Bingley." Darcy took a bite of his bread and jam and chewed slowly, finally taking a swallow of coffee. "The best part of this morning's adventure will be your meeting of other pacers. If you didn't get lost, you will find yourself in the company of other first year students. There is nothing quite like a hundred students with terrified eyes and chattering teeth. You are sure to make many friends there."
"You're too kind."
Darcy couldn't go on. He began to laugh and Bingley joined him. "There's a new cafe on the square", Darcy said. It's German and the smells emanating from it are wonderful. What say we try it out when we're finished with business."
At Bingley's nod, Darcy headed back to his room for a bath and shave.
As Darcy had predicted, the day went as smoothly as expected. Bingley didn't get lost; he found his name and copied it in his notebook, triple checking the information. The process took approximately fifteen minutes. Bingley met Darcy back in the lobby wearing a broad grin, "I didn't get lost once," he said.
Once Bingley got his curriculum set he began to visibly relax. He made it a point to walk through the halls of the college and took copious notes of where he would hear the lectures and when. He ran into other students who were doing the same and he began to make friends.
Darcy was exceedingly pleased with how his young friend was getting on. He had done for Bingley what Guy Waltham had done for him and he was satisfied with the result. Darcy was confident that Bingley would do what he had come for, and would make his father proud.
Once classes began Bingley followed Darcy's pattern of study. After class two or three hours of study was followed by a leisurely supper down at the square. Back in their rooms another two hours of study. At nine o'clock they enjoyed their brandy and an hour of conversation before the fire, then retired for the night.
On Friday nights they threw off all thoughts of Latin and Greek. Not a word concerning modern or ancient history passed their lips, and political science and civil law was under no circumstances to be discussed.
During the first few weeks Bingley accompanied Darcy to the QR on Friday nights but as the weeks passed by, Bingley occasionally joined other friends for his nights on the town, which was as it should be. Making other friends would give Bingley more confidence and some of them would prove to be friends for life.
On the Friday nights when they didn't party together, the first to arrive back at their rooms would pour the brandy and await for the other to return so they could enjoy another hour of conversation. During the many hours they spent in this leisurely fashion their discussions ranged far and wide but mostly it centered on their hopes and dreams for the future. As might be guessed, their desires were not dissimilar. They wanted to live lives of fulfillment; to eventually raise a family and be happy.
"And what sort of wife do you envision, Bingley?" Darcy inquired one night adding, dryly, "I suspect she will be short or tall, slim or fat as long as she is blond."
"She must have a sweet, placid disposition," Bingley replied, "and sincerely believe that the sun and moon rise upon my command."
"Seems reasonable," Darcy drawled. "And what will you do if you never find this paragon? Will you be willing to settle for less in order to be fruitful and multiply?"
Bingley frowned, "I've never even considered not finding the perfect wife for me."
"Brave but naive words, my friend."
"Are you telling me that it might be impossible to find the woman that's just right for me? That's a daunting thought."
"There are a lot of women out there, Charles, and you must choose with great care a companion who will be attached to you for the next fifty years. Only think of the misery you will endure if you choose unwisely."
"Now that you've thoroughly depressed me I shall pour another drink."
Darcy handed him his glass. "I'll have another."
"And what sort of a wife do you want ?" Bingley asked, returning to his chair.
"I have determined that only the deepest love could induce me into matrimony which means that I will probably end up as a wizened and embittered and very lonely old man."
Bingley stared at Darcy in shock unable to decide whether his friend was serious or teasing him. "Why on earth would you say such a thing? You have everything going for you. Wealth, property...and I've seen the way the women in town stare at you. Women must flock to you in droves."
"For my wealth and property, yes they do," Darcy sighed. "Bingley, the women of the ton are taught at a very early age how to snare a man, and it has nothing to do with love or even affection. They simper and smirk at every man they meet as long as he has money and it will raise them to a higher class. It doesn't seem to matter whether the man is simple-minded and has the looks of a toad. They will marry him."
Bingley was appalled. "That's terrible!"
Darcy laughed. "You're getting more of an education than you bargained for, it seems."
"But Darcy, they can't all be like that. I refuse to believe that."
"No," Darcy allowed, "not all marriages are arranged for the love of money. My own parents married for love, and Richard's parents are as much in love as they were the day they married. But what sort of man did your eldest sister marry? And is she content with her choice? And what about your sister Caroline? What kind of man is she looking for? Is she looking for love, or she looking for a way to gain entrance to Almacks?"
Bingley sighed but otherwise, remained silent.
"Now, Bingley, allow me to tell you about my Aunt Catherine who lives in Kent. She is a remarkable woman who is renown for her ability to answer her own questions. She loves the sound of her own voice and can sustain a dialogue with herself through an entire meal of six courses. In an authoritative voice she will tell you that there are few people in England who have better naturaltaste in music. She will tell you that she would have been proficient at the pianoforte if she had ever learned. Are you getting the picture, Bingley?"
Bingley nodded in amusement. "She sounds...interesting."
"If you think that, Bingley, you do not have the picture. But on the assumption that you are simply being diplomatic, I shall continue." Darcy paused for a sip of brandy. "Now, my Aunt insists that I marry her daughter, Anne. According to her it was my Mother's dearest wish. No one else in the family has ever heard of this and since my mother has been gone for eight years, there's no one who could verify this fallacious hope."
"Surely you won't marry her, Darcy."
"My cousin Anne is a gentle soul and of a sickly nature. I can't remember the last time I heard her speak. All her needs are anticipated by her companion and her mother invariably speaks for her. For all I know, Anne no longer has the power of speech. I seriously doubt if she knows anything about the marriage bed. I fear she would faint if she ever saw me in my nightshirt." Darcy drained his glass. "If I ever attempted to consummate such a marriage she'd have a heart attack. I probably wouldn't even notice as I'd be blind drunk."
Bingley laughed at the picture Darcy was painting.
"The point of this story is that my Aunt cares not for the suffering it would bring to both Anne and myself if we believed this monstrous fabrication and married. All she cares about is uniting our two estates. It sickens me just thinking about it, but this is the way the ton operates and most men and women bend to it."
"But you will not, I think."
"Indeed, I will not. But if I deign to marry someone my family feels is beneath me, the shades of Pemberley will be polluted and my esteemed Aunt Catherine will have a conniption fit."
"Do you care what your family thinks?"
"On a matter of such importance to my mental and physicalwell-being I might say that, no, I don't care a fig, but I'd be lying. I didn't choose my family but I owe everything I am to them and I would not wish to disappoint them. In any case, I don't have to worry about it for at least two years. After I graduate, I'll head back to my estate and spend at least a year there. Our steward of the past fifteen years, Mr. Wickham, is not in the best of health and his assistant will take over the management of Pemberley once I return. I won't want to leave until I'm sure I can trust him fully."
"How large is your estate, Darcy?"
"Ten miles around."
"Good grief! How can you manage such an estate?"
"You hire the best men you can find. You treat them with respect and pay them a good wage. If you buy an estate keep that in mind and you'll do very well."
"The question is, do I want such a responsibility?"
"Of course you do. Own your own land and raise your family on it. Start your own dynasty."
Bingley smiled. Start my own dynasty. How well that sounds."
The weeks passed swiftly with a sameness that bordered on monotony at times. They were assiduous with their routine and both felt an enormous feeling of satisfaction with every test taken and passed but they looked forward to the holidays which were fast approaching.
Darcy had not forgotten his promise to help Bingley purchase a townhouse. He wrote his agent asking him to line up a few townhouses that would be suitable and they would look at them during the holidays. He received a letter back a week later saying that an exceptional home had just come on the market. The owners were immigrating to Canada and wanted a quick sale. Darcy wrote a letter back saying that he very interested and would be in touch as soon as he reached London.
Bingley could not contain his excitement. He went into his pacing mode tossing his hands about, "I know it will be perfect! I can feel it. And fully furnished, you say? Perfect! Wait until Caroline sees it. She will be thrilled!"
Darcy doubted that. Taking his valet's description with a cup of salt, Miss Caroline Bingley still came out as an ogress. A sinking feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach. If Bingley found the home to his liking and bought it without consulting the gorgon, the gorgon would be displeased. Poor Bingley would need a buffer.
Darcy had grown rather fond of Bingley. It had been his own idea that a townhouse be purchased without the knowledge of Caroline. Now, Bingley would have to face her wrath alone unless Darcy interceded on his behalf.