Chapter 5

The sunrise promised a day of amazing warmth for the autumn; it was perhaps a little late for it, but Saint Martin's Summer had yet to grace them that year. Watching the sky that morning, Edward thought it probable that it heralded a storm, although he expected that the actual bad weather would delay at least a day, and in every other respect he found it a perfect day for a picnic.

Midday brought the expected Netherfield party, with the unexpected addition of Miss Bingley. Longbourn's was only formed by the Bennet siblings, as Mr. Bennet considered such exertions more a hint of folly, or youth, or both than any reasonable exercise.

They took off as they had planned, on foot, with two servants to carry the food. They had not walked three feet when Edward was already showing Darcy the fishing gear he had brought for both.

Jane and Mr. Bingley were behind them, the latter talking in low tones to the first, and holding effortlessly all her attention, with Miss Bingley walking close to them, appearing not too pleased with the situation.

Before long, they had arrived to a nice place with a gently stooping, grassy hill overlooking a small embankment in the stream. There were some trees giving shade not too close to the water, and the party broke up according to each person's preference. Bingley, of course, decided to keep the ladies company in the shade rather than to go down with Darcy and Edward.

The latter two were already armed with their fishing rods when Miss Bingley's declaration of her desire to watch the proceedings up close arrested them.

'I have always wanted to see how it is done and never had the chance, we living in Town and Charles disliking the sport so much.'

The fishermen exchanged a look but decided to keep their silence. They nodded politely; went down, placing themselves at a comfortable distance apart from one another; and then each began to bait their hooks. Edward could not help turning for a moment to watch Miss Bingley observe their surroundings with distaste and hesitation; she clearly did not know what to do with herself.

Edward had to keep himself busy–and Darcy appeared to follow a similar strategy–to avoid laughing out loud at the woman. He was not a little surprised when she at last sat on the grass between the two gentlemen and daintily covered her legs with her skirt. He would have thought she would have chosen to sit farther from himself and closer to Darcy, although he eventually began to suspect that Miss Bingley's attentions toward himself were part of her larger scheme for holding the other man's attention.

Although at first she held Edward's attention quite easily by her folly, he soon grew absorbed with the sport and his thoughts wandered into that curious limbo where they were wont to go when little or no rational effort was required of them.

It became clear then that Miss Bingley did not expect to be ignored. Not ten minutes after having settled, she spoke thusly–

'Is this not a pleasant afternoon, Mr. Darcy?'

He answered her with utmost civility, if quite shortly, 'Indeed, it is.'

It was not a moment later when she tried again. 'How uncommonly well you hold the rod, Mr. Darcy! I do not think I have ever seen such skill.'

Edward was severely tempted to laugh then, and a look at Darcy showed him similarly afflicted. Nevertheless, Darcy's tone was perfectly serious. 'I do thank you, madam, but I think that must be due to you not having ever seen the sport up close.'

Edward looked at her, and tried to see if she was discomfited at all, but it was evident the lady could not be deterred when she said, her voice earnest and confident, 'Oh, no! I am quite sure you must be very good at it; I doubt your natural pride would let you do anything in a less than proficient manner.'

Edward could not help it, and let out a snicker, being barely able to reduce it to a smirk afterwards, lest it became a full out laughing fit capable of scaring off all the fish. Miss Bingley looked at him then—up and down with derision, as usual—and said, 'Others may laugh, but Mr. Darcy is all a man ought to be. He may hug himself.'

Edward thought it unwise to clarify that the source of his mirth was not Mr. Darcy after all, mindful of the discussion—or the lady—becoming too loud for the activity. He kept his gaze steadily on the water, and his lips sealed, despite the millions of retorts that sprung to his mind, and his desire to look at Mr. Darcy's countenance in order to ascertain how he was taking such wholesome praise.

Mr. Darcy, too, clearly thought it more politic to keep silent; he behaved as if he had not heard at all.

A few minutes later, when Edward had begun to think that his self control would not be tested any longer, Miss Bingley spoke again, saying in a shrill voice, 'I think there must not be any fish in this stream, Mr. Darcy. We best desist in trying to catch what is not present.'

Edward thought it was beyond any saint's restraint to contain himself any longer, and therefore answered in the sweetest tone he could muster, 'Though I am sure Darcy and I both love your company and the dulcet tones of your conversation, I am afraid the fish have no such a taste. Therefore, if you still want to stay by the stream, it will have to be in silence. I am afraid this is not a very entertaining sport for the observer.'

She coloured a little and said in an offended, though low, tone, 'I am sure I can be as quiet as you.' And from there on she kept a tight lipped silence that effectively put a damper on any further conversation.

They were called to eat by the others before too long, however, and Edward had the pleasure of seeing his sister as happy as she had shown herself at the assembly. Her eyes were lowered to hide her expression, but her constant smile and rosy constitution betrayed her. Although the latter could have been blamed upon the relentless heat that continued to besiege them, Edward was certain that it was not so.

Bingley, on the other hand, was enviably cool and collected, lying down with his arms behind his head. His legs were completely stretched out in front of him; a lazy smile played on his lips while, from under heavily lidded eyes, he observed the approach of the fishing party; he was the picture of indolence, and seemed to feel their plight not at all.

Edward was relieved, as under the sun he had begun to feel very much like a softly boiling pot. Under the shade of the tree it was a little fresher, and a breeze could be felt, both proving very agreeable. He could see Darcy, too, lamented the existence of his cravat—or, at the very least, the presence of ladies, which prevented him from divesting himself of it—in the way he tugged at it when distracted.

'You seem a bit warm there, Darcy,' Bingley said, not moving an inch. 'You would much better stay in the shade from here on. Have you caught anything?'

Darcy answered in a curt tone, 'You can very well see we have not.'

Edward let himself drop like a rock besides his sister, while saying, 'The fish are avoiding us.'

Jane smiled, but did not answer, and instead busied herself passing the simple fare around, which consisted principally of fresh fruit, wine, cheese, and meat. To Edward everything looked delicious, and he and Darcy ate–and drank–heartily. Soon a pleasant grogginess settled over the whole party.

Bingley was the first to speak, and he did it with what Edward was learning to recognize as mischief, saying, 'Caroline, did you know that Mr. Bennet plays the pianoforte exquisitely? And you were so sceptical about finding a fellow musician in this part of the country!'

Miss Bingley looked shocked, and Edward, sitting up, proceeded to protest. 'Bingley, even if I were not aware that you have just spent a while with my sister, that remark would have made it obvious. You must know that a sister's praise is very hollow, especially from one as excellent as Jane. I am afraid she will find her brother without fault no matter what the subject.'

Bingley smiled, good-natured as was his wont. 'If she praised you, she must be right. You will not paint her a liar in my eyes.'

'You ought to at least to hear me play before speaking so to all and sundry of my talents, or you will do me the great disservice of rising the general expectancy so much that my performance, as unpractised as it is, cannot but disappoint.'

'Perfect, we shall insist upon hearing you at the earliest opportunity,' said Bingley.

And Darcy added, 'And we shall enjoy it, I am sure. You may make a great show of humility, but you have agreed to play for us without any prompting, which shows that you must be proud of your performance.'

'If you take into account my vanity and my shameless character, then I am afraid you will reach a much different conclusion,' said Edward with a laugh.

Bingley, apparently observing that his sister had not said a word, spoke to her again, asking, 'Do you not think, Caroline, that a man's performance will give our soirées a je ne sais quoi, a certain original elegance?'

Caroline coloured, and before she could open her mouth to answer, Edward hastily intervened, trying to avoid any overt confrontation between the siblings. 'I am quite certain it is considered very unfashionable in the London circles.'

'Nonsense, Edward; everyone would be delighted to hear you play,' said Jane, her voice full of conviction and obvious affection.

Miss Bingley's gaze met Edward's for a moment before she lowered it again. Her voice was subdued when she finally spoke. 'I am sure I shall.'

Bingley was in high spirits, telling one or other anecdote of his numerous acquaintances, trying, quite obviously, Edward thought, to make Jane laugh. He could not know that it was practically impossible with so many people around and no intimate relations either. She did reward him with a widening of her smile now and then, and once Edward could discern she had to make a real effort in containing herself.

Edward observed them with careful consideration, and he was shocked to see their relationship much furthered than what he had expected. He saw his sister tremble when their hands brushed when passing around the food, and looks into the other's eyes that lingered much more than what was proper. Curious, Edward looked around to see if anyone else realized the seriousness of the forming attachment, but Darcy was much more concerned with observing the sky and Miss Bingley was sullenly staring at the patterned fabric upon which they sat.

After something like an hour of rest, Darcy and Edward went down to try their luck for a while longer; this time Miss Bingley stayed under the trees, complaining about the effect the sun would have on her complexion. When the fish finally began to bite, Edward could not avoid thinking that somehow they knew that said lady was no longer in the shore waiting for them.

Both of them, too, were easier, and in consideration to the sweat now drawing a winding path down their faces, and seeing that the ladies were being well entertained far from them, of mutual accord, they decided to remove the outer layers of their clothing, leaving them both in only their linen shirts.

Darcy was the first to speak afterwards, commenting, 'I am finding it extremely disagreeable that we planned this outing as a familial picnic.' Grinning wickedly, he continued, saying, 'Had this been a sporting expedition, the two of us and Bingley at the very most as the whole party, I am sure the fish would have been already snared and in the baskets, and we could have been bathing in this same moment.'

The water did seemed tempting, but the picture Darcy presented was, for reasons better not dwelt upon at the moment, somewhat disturbing for Edward.

He smiled before saying, 'I could not have joined you in any case, as I never did learn how to swim. My father was very fearful in my infancy, and insisted that the current in this pitiful stream would have been much too dangerous for me.'

'I could have taught you. If the current ever was, indeed, too strong for your arms, I am sure it is not now. Or by any chance are you afraid of the water?'

Edward felt sure he had never seen Darcy in so mischievous a humour; and replying in kind was easy when the possibility of having to act upon the words was remote at best.

'Me, afraid of a little water? Never!'

'Especially,' observed his companion, 'since the water will at most reach your neck.'

Edward kept his eyes on the surface of the water, his face warm. 'Indeed, especially since it is so.'

'Aha,' was Darcy's triumphant cry, as he began to reel the line in, a large trout fighting for its life at the other end.

The day's outing finished a little later, when the clouds that had heretofore settled for sending them nasty looks from the horizon covered the sky and made it a pressing matter to find shelter. The temperature dropped, and they stood shivering, at least a good half of the party not wanting to part.

Both fishermen had been successful, but Bingley invited the Bennets to taste Darcy's last catch at dinner. Edward was torn, a part of him wanting to accept. He looked forward to the prospect of furthering his acquaintance with Darcy; but, on the other hand, he also wanted to check somewhat Bingley's relationship with Jane. It was moving rather too fast for his liking. In the end, the look of delight that suffused his sister's features upon hearing Bingley's invitation won out, and he accepted.

After so much time standing around, Fate seemed to think they were taunting it, because the clouds finally made good on their threats; halfway to Longbourn, the sky opened and it began to rain in something more akin to a torrent than to a light shower. The rain fell in thick sheets that made looking beyond two feet almost impossible, and drenched them completely in an instant.

The sudden turn of the weather was surprisingly diverting to everyone but Miss Bingley. They all made such a picture, sodden and dirty, that the others could not help but laugh. Even Darcy, after his initial worried reaction, cracked a smile or two. Any such pleasure that Miss Bingley could extract was, thought Edward, overshadowed by the fact they were laughing at her too.

It helped, thought Edward giddily, that it was a most expedient way of relieving their bone deep weariness and fever-like heat.

They separated at Longbourn, vowing to meet later for dinner at Netherfield.

The Bennets changed, and Edward asked for the carriage while they communicated their plans to their father. He, of course, acquiesced, but not after expressing disappointment for having lost the spectacle of the fine party wet through.