Chapter 3

Edward woke up inordinately early that morning, and the first thing he remembered was the appointment to hunt with Bingley. He could already feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He went through his mornings ablutions with efficiency and was on his way, without taking any breakfast, before any other person in the household could realize he was up and about.

He set out walking; he had plenty of time before he was expected at Netherfield. He made his way, as he preferred on his morning walks, rambling and stopping every time something drew his interest. The day could not be brighter or more pleasant; the trees were greener than he had seen them in a long while and the birds sung liltingly.

He was almost inclined to laugh at himself and at the absurdity of this sudden and completely ridiculous good humour, though not quite.

When he finally came upon the great house, the butler was expecting him and directed him to the breakfast room. There, he only saw the two gentlemen who were to go hunting with him, and neither hide nor hair of the rest of the party.

Bingley received him with an exuberant welcome and invitation to breakfast with them, and noting his curious gaze, observed jokingly that not everybody appreciated the benefits of making an early morning.

Darcy barely acknowledged his presence by the slightest nod, and with a short phrase, expressed his gladness in having his company. He did not appear to care that his frown seemed to belie his words, and Edward was sorely tempted to ask if hehappened to be one of those persons that did not like to have their morning's sleep interrupted.

Nevertheless, Edward's cheerfulness could not desert him when he was in so agreeable a company as Bingley's, and so he gladly accepted the invitation to partake with the gentlemen of the fare generously laid out. They ate a little and drank a copious amount of tea before heading outside.

Darcy's humour, and consequently his manners, improved as time passed, and as Bingley had hoped, the cheerful meandering talk of the two younger gentlemen seemed to distract him of his gloom, if not actually to entice him to be more outgoing himself.

Edward and Bingley walked together, discussing favourite guns and current fashion for hunting weapons. Darcy brought in the rear, only a little ahead of their men and Bingley's young pointers, until they had lost sight of the great house completely and sent the dogs ahead.

'I still appreciate Manton-style flintlock guns, especially if they have rifled bore. But wait until you try mine, you will see that the percussion cap is much better. Besides, it need not be heavier, 'tis quite the same as a Manton-style in that regard,' Edward said.

Bingley readily agreed to look it over, but he was adamant that each of them use their own guns.

'I cannot part with mine,' he said. 'I do think that choosing the weapon is almost as important as knowing how to shoot accurately.'

'But will you not try it?' Edward asked, perplexed. 'How will you know if it is better or not this way?'

'I trust your word, of course, and I will see you shoot with it today. If I ever want to try the new lock system, I will order one for myself.'

'It is better! I managed to acquire several, you see, and pulled them apart. The principle is the same, only the substance used to make the initial ignition is more powerful. My father was worried while I was experimenting with it, as it explodes with a stunning ease. I simply cannot understand how it is that is not the most used, as it is certainly more effective.'

Uncomfortable with Darcy's silence and inscrutable expression following his rather enthusiastic speech, Edward made an attempt to draw him out and said, still addressing himself to Bingley,

'Do you think your friend thinks meanly of my opinions on the subject, or only of my manner of expressing them?'

'Darcy?' Bingley asked, smiling at Darcy in amusement, 'Why do you ask?'

'Perhaps I am merely unused to having so silent a companion. I thought that we may be boring him.'

Darcy opened his mouth as if to speak, appearing somewhat disconcerted, but then he quickly shut it closed again. He looked back at Bingley rather plaintively. Only after several seconds did he find his voice.

'Not at all. I only find that I have no fixed opinion on the subject,' he said at last.

'No fixed opinion? This is dreadful,' Edward said. 'A gentleman who does not know the best length and size for the double barrel, or whether indeed he would choose the double over the simple one? What are we to discuss now that you have barred us from this subject?'

'By all means, keep talking about it. It is all the same to me,' said Darcy with some harshness.

But once Edward had glimpsed a chink in the armour, as he fancied the moment of uncomfortable indecision had been, he was not likely to let Darcy retire behind a façade of indifference again if he could help it.

'No, no, it will not do. The subject is dry enough as it is, but if only Mr. Bingley and I will be speaking, I am afraid it will be rendered completely dull. I will state my most outrageous opinions, and he will, if not agree with them, grant them their validity without discussion all the same.'

'I see you know my friend well enough.'

'Am I right then? You are his friend of long standing, Mr. Darcy, and so I ask you: is Mr. Bingley as obliging a fellow as I paint him?'

'Indeed, in most cases, he is.'

Edward could not imagine a more frustrating man; he had never met anyone so determined to not help a conversation along. For his part, Edward was determined to make at least one more attempt, and so he asked in a broad manner, 'Were you at Cambridge together?'

As it perhaps was to be expected, Bingley was the one to answer.

'No, we were not. Darcy had left already when I was 'capping the quadrangle'. But I knew ofhim at Cambridge. We shared some acquaintances and they have told me a thing or two.'

Darcy's eyebrows had shot up at the last phrase, but rather than seeming angry—as Edward had feared for a second—he arched his brow in amusement.

'Stories?'

Edward was as curious as Darcy, but he offered no remark. Experience had taught him that an unassuming air of perfect indifference could often provide the means of hearing something interesting.

'Well, not stories, per se; more like the general report of your notoriety.'

'I hope they are not tales of infamy; we would not wish to leave an unfavourable impression of you and your friends on your new neighbour.' Darcy said, his tone still carrying a hint of warning even as he smiled and leaned carelessly back into a tree. He had not forgotten Edward's presence.

Bingley laughed then and it took a little while before he could bring himself under enough control and speak. Edward did not know if the cause of this was the mere idea of Darcy's being infamous or that the gentleman thought it necessary to give a warning about it at all; Edward certainly found both excessively diverting.

'Darcy here,' Bingley said to Edward when he was finally able, 'was renowned for his prowess at fencing, but certainly he was most famous for arranging to box in a case in which a duel had been proposed. It became all the rage after that. They used to say that he had made it so because he was a good student of Jackson's, but did not care for pistols one way or the other.'

Then Darcy's man approached them, as was not only one dog pointing out birds for netting, but several others were backing it up. They sent him to flush the fowls and spread out.

Some moments and several deafening bangs later, Edward was pleased to have shot a brace, and seeing that more than those two birds had fallen, looked about his partners to see what their luck had been.

Bingley was horrified by his mode of expression. 'Luck, you say? It requires no more luck than what it takes to earn the heart of a woman.'

Darcy was extremely amused at this. 'Bennet, it would be better for you to know that you cannot disparage shooting in front of Bingley.'

When Edward tried to protest, saying that he had not intended to do any such a thing, he added, 'Then it is better to clarify some things before we continue.' There was a definite twinkle in his eyes when he enumerated with mock seriousness, 'First, there is no luck involved in the sport at all, it is only skill; second, when you insult the weapon, you insult its master; and thirdly, Bingley isalways the better shot.'

Bingley looked sheepish then, and said, 'I met Darcy at a hunting party, much as this one. The host was the man who told me the previous story. So at the first opportunity, I tried to tease Darcy into admitting he was a poor shot; I have yet to this day no idea why he took a liking to me anyway.' He finished with a look at Darcy, who was aiming himself to a stray bird, appearing not to have heard, and finally lowered the gun without shooting it.

They then set about recounting the birds. Bingley patently tried not to gloat, but he had bagged five, three more than the others' two. Consequently, his smile was somewhat condescending while Edward and Darcy quibbled over who had killed the stray bird for which neither could account. Each was sure it had been killed by the other.

They walked rather slowly while speaking, and encountered several flocks in hiding, and although they shot them in a desultory fashion, they bagged a considerable quantity of game.

Edward had time to prove Darcy's assertion of Bingley's superiority to his ample satisfaction. The only potentially interesting competition could be between Darcy and himself. And it was indeed interesting for Edward, for he had a definite chance at winning.

Nonetheless, Edward feigned a fashionable indifference, as it soon became clear that Darcy could not be less moved by the supposed contest. He announced his killings and listened to those of Edward's, but the comparative results could not hold his interest.

Bingley, perhaps realizing that Darcy's attitude was disconcerting their new friend, set out to try and rouse the gentleman's interest. What better way of doing it, but to tease him? Indeed, Edward knew no other method that could be expected to work.

'Darcy, old man,' Bingley said one of those times, 'it is not sad how the new generations displace the old ones when their time has passed?'

Darcy smiled but said nothing. He motioned for his man to send the pointers to flush some nearby bushes, and stood ready.

Bingley made no motion to imitate him, and Edward observed him with some curiosity, until he spoke.

'And so I see, I know what's causing you to miss so often, Darcy.' Bingley's voice was mirthful, and Darcy made no movement, though Edward had begun to think that he was always listening attentively. ''Tis your posture; you're always so stiff, it's a wonder you can move your arm to aim at the necessary pace to shoot two or three birds for each flock!'

Edward had to bite back a incredulous laugh, but Darcy merely kept his position and shot at the two fowls that emerged at the dogs' barking; the second one fell.

Only after the bird was down did Darcy turn towards them, and then Edward thought he could perceive that he was really offended. Nevertheless, although Edward could not fathom what compelled him, he added, 'I have always considered it wise to keep a stiff upper lip in the face of bad luck such as this.'

Bingley laughed, and Darcy lowered his face. Edward was thrown into some confusion regarding Darcy's possible reaction, but when he raised his face again, his countenance was serene. When he spoke, his voice was as indifferent as before.

'Undoubtedly.' he said passing them his flask. 'Though what is wise and what is possible are two different things. I for one have always considered that a stiff upper lip could not be expected from boys that could not yet grow hair over it.'

Edward felt his smile widening in spite himself, and had to concede the point.

In the end, Bingley stopped shooting, arguing that he had done more than his share of the work already. He, from then on, used his keen eye to count the birds that the other two were bagging, keeping an exacting tally and remarking that it was just his luck that, when he most wanted to laugh, the performance shamed neither friend.

They had packed a light repast and eaten it, but by early afternoon the gentlemen were all hungry again. They were, by this time, so well into Netherfield's lands that Edward invited them to Longbourn to partake in some refreshments, as it was the shorter walk. The other two looked at each other, and Darcy appeared as if he was about to decline, but Bingley was swifter.

'Of course we would love to, but only if you are certain it will not be a disturbance to drop by unannounced.'

Edward reassured them readily of the welcome of their presence for tea: Jane would be waiting for them, since she had already been warned of the possibility of their coming. Only then Darcy did acquiesce, while still looking unconvinced. So they made their way to Longbourn after sending their men to Netherfield with the firearms and a message designed to allay any fears their prolonged absence could cause.

Edward had issued the invitation without thinking, and now he began to doubt its wisdom. Jane was, indeed, expecting them, but he wondered what he would do if Bingley and Jane paired themselves off and he was left to make conversation with the other gentleman. It had been uncomfortable enough while shooting, when they had other things to occupy themselves with, but sitting in a parlour with a tea tray? It would be unsupportable.

It was, nonetheless, too late to change his mind. With any luck, his father would be there and exert himself to talk to the gentlemen, but he could not really expect it of him on such short notice.

With that in mind, Edward approached Darcy while they were walking. After a few minutes of silence during which even Bingley seemed lost in pleasant reveries of a private nature, Edward ventured to say–

'So, was this outing your idea? Do you enjoy shooting a great deal?'

In the silence that followed he cringed at his double mistake. Not only did he ask inane questions, but he also directly contradicted all that he had just learned about the gentleman. He almost exhaled in relief when the answer finally came.

'I… the estate is dreadfully neglected, so I pointed out to Bingley that the situation could only encourage poaching.'

Then another silence followed, so long that Edward thought no other word would be forthcoming when Darcy finally proved him wrong.

'I enjoy shooting, although I prefer fishing. I confess I find little to enjoy in sport without company, so I take advantage of circumstances such as these whenever I am able.'

The words seemed dragged across Darcy's lips against his will. This proof of the other's apparent timidity emboldened Edward who, making his tone as light and uninterested as possible, continued thusly–

'I know that the waters on Netherfield are a sad business, but there is a stream on the other side of Longbourn that has a fair share of trout. I have not been there in a while and my father is less and less inclined to stir from his study these days, so it must be well stocked. What say you to an afternoon of fly-fishing?'

'I am afraid that Bingley loathes the sport, as it is a too quiet a pastime for him,' Darcy replied, with a smile that took the sting out of the rejection.

The smile became him so well, that Edward could not avoid smiling as well as he answered, 'Well, we could make it a picnic and invite our sisters as well, and then I am sure he will not be so averse to it. I am sure Jane will be almost as pleased to see him as he will to see her.'

Darcy then regarded him with an undecipherable expression and said in a noncommittal tone, 'We shall see.'

All conversation seemed to an end at this, but—Edward thought—they were arriving in any case.

Jane was indeed waiting for them when they did, and she lost no time in sending for a tray. It was not, at least at first, as uncomfortable as Edward had feared.

The occasion of introducing Darcy to Jane and vice versa gave plenty of opportunity for smirking knowledgeably to the latter, and the looks Edward received in return were more than worth the trouble of making conversation with the former. She faltered while speaking when she found Edward looking at her, and coloured deeply at the most innocent comments Darcy made.

Until Mr. Bennet joined them, the conversation remained superficial. They all but Darcy had expressed themselves as looking forward to the Assembly, and thoroughly analyzed the strange weather that they were having of late.

Mr. Bennet's first words after the customary greetings were to inquire about the outcome of the afternoon's sport; and after hearing the appropriately humble answer, to ask, 'So, who is the best shot of the three?'

Edward looked over to Bingley with some alarm, but he was speaking to Jane contentedly and not paying any attention to the proceedings in the other side of the room. It was up to him to make an appropriate answer, as Darcy was staring resolutely out of the window, where he had placed himself a moment before.

'Bingley… that is Mr. Bingley is, I think, the best of us. I did not see him waste one pellet.'

'Is that your opinion as well?' Mr. Bennet asked of Mr. Darcy, forcing him to turn around to answer.

'I… yes, although your son is very good as well.'

'Well, he ought to be. I spent an ungodly amount of hours teaching him.'

Edward wished there was a way to extinguish the twinkle in his father's eyes. To be discussed as a child, in front of Mr. Darcy of all people, was beyond humiliating. He forced himself to smile and speak pleasantly.

'Oh, I do not think I am very good, but then the exact quantity that 'ungodly amount' means is probably somewhat skewed by the fact that you hate the sport, Sir. Mr. Bingley is perhaps a more objective judge; I am certain he would agree with me that Mr. Darcy is the better shot between us.'

Edward was exaggerating, but then, his only objective was to turn the conversation, and so he continued, 'But I see he would not appreciate the interruption; he appears to be very much absorbed in his conversation with my sister.'

'What an obliging group of young men!' cried Mr. Bennet, now his amusement thoroughly evident. 'Should I ask Mr. Bingley, I am sure both of you would be better than he by far.'

Edward had to hide a smile then, as he thought Darcy would not appreciate it, and so was quite surprised when Darcy responded, laughter as evident in his voice as it had been in Mr. Bennet's.

'I do think you are mistaken, sir—if there is anything Bingley is proud of, it is his shooting. He would not dare in any way to discount it in front of a lady. He is of the opinion that ladies admire men's prowess in sports, if I may express my own personal view, more so than they really do.'

'Trying to impress my daughter, Mr. Bingley, is he?'

At hearing his name at last, Bingley turned toward them and politely asked the question to be repeated. Both he and Jane blushed profusely when they heard it, and he stammered out a reply, speaking thus –

'I… we were talking about the theatre just now.'

Edward took pity on them both, and immediately sought to take advantage of the possible change of subject, asking after the subject of the play and whether any of the men had seen one of beloved Garrick's last plays. Mr. Bingley had, and that conversation did hold Mr. Bennet's attention. He approached the couple to speak of the actor's advancing age and possible career choices and of who could be expected to carry his torch when he was unable to continue, leaving Edward and Darcy alone on their side of the room.

Edward got up then, and approached Darcy at the window. He looked through it with pretended intensity, and then spoke, affecting a serious tone,

'By God, although I have tried, I cannot see what it is so interesting in my garden.'

Darcy did not answer directly, but rather waited a moment and afterwards, looking fixedly at Edward, said, 'So now I am the better shot?'

Edward felt all the embarrassment that afternoon's childish behaviour deserved, and answered civilly. 'I do think we were evenly matched, and perhaps if we exchanged guns you would be the better.'

'I see you have not been listening to Bingley; the choice of the gun certainly gives the hunter credit.'

They were looking in each other's eyes then, quite by accident, and Edward felt his colour rising, until they were startled by Bingley calling his friend to say his goodbyes and head to Netherfield with him.

Edward was relieved, and in a second understood how convenient was to look out the window at an uncomfortable time, as he was trying to get his countenance in order before having to attend to their leave taking.

He was surprised again when he saw Darcy's reflection bending down slightly over him and heard him say, in a low voice, 'Perhaps we will have to choose another sport to settle who deserves the most credit.' And in another moment, he was gone.