Chapter 10

The next weeks passed, neither more quickly nor more slowly than they should, but tallying exactly sixty seconds a minute and sixty minutes an hour, twenty four hours a day, and seven days a week. What made those weeks peculiar was rather the manner in which they were spent.

Most of those hours were spent in agreeable conversation with Darcy. They hunted, or played billiards, or simply went out, riding or walking. Why would that be peculiar? Edward did not know; he only felt that they were unlike everything he had lived before in his life.

Edward had been absorbed in the contemplation of the horizon, or rather thinking of other things while appearing to observe the horizon, when he realized Bingley and Darcy had been speaking for a while.

"I do have to go to London, Darcy, it is no sudden caprice. I would much rather stay, you know, but it cannot be helped."

Edward watched them curiously, and Bingley, seeing him paying attention, said, "So, anyone want to join me? We can go and be back again in only a couple of days."

"There is nothing to tempt us, really," said Darcy.

"Not you, perhaps, but I have great plans for doing Bennet the same favour you did me, and introduce him at White's and a couple of other places."

"I see no great temptation in that for Bennet," said Darcy, "there would be nobody to interest you there, so early in the season."

Bingley was incredulous and half laughing. "You wound me, Darcy; you must know I do not care only for the social season. Several of your relatives will be there, and some friends as well. I know, you have no interest in going, and furthermore you want Bennet to keep you company."

"If you want to go and be back in such a hurry, you hardly need us to run after you."

Edward intervened then, a little irked at Darcy's ready decision making for both of them, "I will be happy to go with you, Bingley, as I have business of my own to accomplish. I had planned to do so by letter, but I find," he added looking saucily at Darcy, "that I favour a more meticulous approach to matters of business."

Darcy only raised his brow in response, not letting himself be baited.

The exact time and mode of travel was planned in a few more phrases, Bingley and Edward being both of such easy disposition and decisiveness that an uncharitable person would perhaps mistake them for hasty or rash. They were set to go the next day by horseback at midmorning, sending before them some clothes by carriage with Bingley's manservant.

Darcy's irritation with his friends could not be hidden, but he would not go with them, and he kept from further expressing it. He even saluted them from Netherfield's entrance when they finally left.

Edward and Bingley were obliged then to set out at a dignified pace, until the house was out of sight, and only then giving in to more childlike impulses, they raced until they were sure they had to stop, lest they kill the horses before mid-journey.

Edward was then reminded why he had liked Bingley best at first, with his easy manners and outgoing disposition. One could never be uncomfortable in his presence, and the conversation went on always effortlessly for both parties.

They reached London in good time, and found that all had been prepared for their comfort in the Hursts' townhouse. They bathed, changed, ate something, and were out of the door as soon as they were able. Each went out to do their respective businesses first; they were both of a mind to consider duty before entertainment, especially since they wanted to leave the next day for Hertfordshire.

Edward went to his attorney's office. There they had been waiting for his letter and were surprised to see him in person. The business he had there was soon concluded, and he was left to wander about, not wanting to be back in the house without his friend.

As it turned out, Bingley was already waiting for him in the parlour when he returned.

"Ah, Bennet, here you are. I was beginning to worry."

"Nothing to worry about, I just stopped to buy my sister a present. I would have hurried if I had known you were waiting for me."

Bingley dismissed the thought with a gesture, saying, "I have not been here long. I was thinking we could go dine in a club instead of staying here. My sister's cook delights in French cuisine, but I have no taste for it, especially after months of eating nothing else."

"I am certain I shall find agreeable whatever you prefer."

"Perfect. If Darcy were here, we may have gone to White's; but really, neither you nor I would be really comfortable there on our own. I much prefer Brooks'. Let us dine at Brooks'."

Thus settled, it was only matter of deciding what to do between then and now. And what could they do in London that they could not in Hertfordshire? There were suddenly so many options, Edward could not decide. Bingley finally tempted him with a visit to Angelo's, to spar and perhaps to get counsel on improving his technique.

Edward owned a copy of L'Ecole des Armes and his father had taught him the basics. Furthermore he had, at one point in his life, been quite enchanted with the sport and tried to practice by himself, but it was another thing that drew him to it. He still remembered that Darcy was a very accomplished fencer, and the lure of becoming equally accomplished with the objective of besting him was strong. It was ridiculous, of course, no less because he had no hopes of doing so after one lesson.

In there they met, much to Bingley delight, some of his friends, and even one of Darcy's cousins, a Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had the most agreeable manners Edward had ever met with, polite and engaging. Showing himself to be pleasantly surprised at finding his cousin's friends in Town, he asked a good deal of questions about how Darcy was doing and if he planned to join them there.

"Oh no, we return to Hertfordshire tomorrow. We came on business that could not be delayed and Darcy found it pointless to come and go back in so little time. We have left him quite settled at Netherfield and I expect we will find him there at our return, only a little more bored than before." Bingley answered cheerfully.

"Settled! I say, I expect he has not forgotten he has a sister that is expecting to pass the holiday season with him! I will have to write him otherwise…"

"I do not think he would forget Miss Darcy," said Bingley without losing his smile, "I extended the invitation to her in any case, so it is quite possible that he has arranged to bring her to Netherfield."

Though all this open talking about Darcy's plans was bothering him a little, as he was sure the man himself would disapprove of it exceedingly, Edward hastened to assure the colonel of his cousin's constancy.

"He has said to me that he has written to his sister to arrange it, though I am not sure if she has responded."

"And so it goes," said Colonel Fitzwilliam with perfect unconcern, "I am the last to hear of it. Though I must not be so hasty to condemn them, it is quite possible he has written to me about it, and I have overlooked it; Darcy's letters are so long and serious, they cannot always claim my attention from beginning to end with success."

This phrase, said with good humour, and in all probability conceived more to amuse than to reflect any truth, almost offended Edward on Darcy's behalf. He had to make an effort to take it as lightly as it was meant. The colonel's cavalier attitude did not endear him to Edward, and almost undid the good impression his manners had left him.

They were then joined by some other acquaintance of both the Colonel and Bingley, a Mr. Clowes, which, having been a while since he had last seen Bingley, was very interested in the current state of his life.

"I say, it has been awhile since I have seen any of the people we spent that agreeable summer with. I have been very remiss with my correspondence, I suspect, but that is as it is. What news have you of the Harpers?"

"I have not known anything of them either. I went to Derbyshire the day after you left for town, and any mention of my capabilities as a correspondent is best left unsaid."

"The day after! Miss Harper must have been devastated!" Mr. Clowes's tone was teasing, not at all serious, but Edward could not like it. He was left wanting to hear Bingley answer and he did not have to wait very long, as it came immediately and it was easy and unaffected.

"Indeed, I doubt she was! The rest of the party stayed, and I am sure they were very merry indeed."

Momentarily, Edward had to bite his lips to avoid asking some very ill-bred questions, but soon enough he was distracted. The three men were very entertaining conversationalists, and furthermore they were at a fencing club, and all were soon likewise engaged.

Bingley was an extremely agreeable partner for simple practice, as not only was he light on his feet and graceful, but easy on his partner as well. Nonetheless, Edward suspected that in a real match, Bingley's lack of competitiveness would annoy him no end, especially since, being the poorer fencer, Edward was sure he would feel condescended to.

They sparred, and Edward had to summon all his knowledge and ability to keep up with Bingley, even though he suspected that his friend was not using all of his. Bingley kept him on the offensive, defending his position quite easily but nevertheless giving up terrain for every attack of Edward's.

Edward soon realized Bingley was teaching him, in a roundabout way. He had not said anything, and was not saying anything now, but every one of his movements showed Edward a potential misstep in his part, leaving him enough time to correct it.

Some time later they stopped, at the end of a bout, as they were both somewhat out of breath. Edward could not really tell how much time had passed since they had begun, so absorbed with the match he had been.

There were a couple of men standing sufficiently close to them to observe them comfortably, and Edward suspected they—or in all justice only him, in his inexperience—made an amusing picture. One of them approached them then, and Bingley greeted him with respect and familiarity. He immediately afterwards introduced Edward to him. It was, it turned out, Henry Angelo himself, who was interested in knowing where Edward had learned to fence.

Edward answered with some embarrassment, "I have not learnt anywhere, really, unless you count your esteemed father's book. My own father coached me a little, but he is not very interested in any sport, so it has been really only a little, I am afraid."

"I only ask because you have a very interesting style. Are you interested in improving?"

"I am, of course, but I do not reside in London for any length of time, I only come, as now, for one or two days at a time. The rest of the year, I am in Hertfordshire."

"That is a shame, indeed! Though perhaps, it is not so bad, as you would be better served in learning in the French school, I suspect. Your style, unpractised and novice as it is, reminds me of Chevalier d'Eon's. If you ever stay in Paris, you would do well in frequenting the Académie d'Armes de Paris."

Edward shamefacedly thanked him, but Angelo just proceeded to give some pointers to improve on their stances, more to Edward than to Bingley, and then he left them to themselves.

And so they sparred a little more, until they both pronounced themselves quite thoroughly done in and decided to go to the Hurst's to refresh themselves before proceeding to Brooks' to dine.

Their walk through St. James' Street was at a leisurely pace, both too tired and too happy to do more than converse of any and every thing in an easy tone. It was the perfect thing to do after the day they had, and the type of conversation one could dedicate only half a mind to, the rest of the attention used to observe the particular crowd that populated that part of town at that particular hour.

"So, Bennet, what did you bought for your sister?"

"A book."

"Your sister likes books a great deal, I gather; we have spoken about novels in many an occasion."

"Jane does like them," answered Edward, beginning to understand to where the questions were tending, "and novels best of all, particularly Miss Burney's. Are you taking notes or you will be asking me this again at a later time?"

Bingley coloured and smiled, looking up at the night, but said nothing.

"You should—you know. Not many men know—" Edward was almost stopped in his tracks. As it was, he could not avoid stumbling over his words, nor the sudden silence it followed.

"What is it?" asked Bingley, trying to catch up with him. He had stepped up his pace, completely red in the face.

"Insufferable presumption!" was the only thing that Edward could articulate.

"Why, what is it?"

Bingley now sounded preoccupied on top of puzzled.

"Deuced—"

"Who?" asked Bingley turning around.

"In the window," finally responded Edward, as now that the initial moment of embarrassment had passed he felt rather foolish.

"Window? Ah! White's bow-window! That must have been Brummell and the dandies that usually surround him, then. Why, what did they do? You must not pay them any attention."

Edward felt himself heat up again. He regretted having made such a fuss, because how could he satisfy Bingley's inquisitiveness with anything less than the truth? And, nevertheless, he felt unequal to expressing it aloud. He tried a shortened, tempered version of it,

"They were looking me—us—up and down thoroughly, without any shame whatsoever!" He tried to say it in as dramatic a tone as he could, only because he did not want Bingley to perceive there was anything else to be told.

"And I daresay it was through those dreadful quizzing glasses as well," said Bingley, patently trying for seriousness of tone, and failing miserably. "I say, Edward, I did not know you were so easy to fluster! You should be glad he did not cut us; the shame would have followed us all the way back to Hertfordshire. "

"Well, now you know," responded Edward, forcing the words between the teeth of a tight smile, relieved that he did not have to explain himself further.

The truth was that one of those so called gentleman, at the occasion of their eyes meeting, quite by accident, and having finished a through perusal of Edward's person, had lowered his glass and openly, overtly, winked at him!

Edward decided not to give in to the strong necessity of checking that the lines of his coat and breeches were in order, but it caused him to want to be away from the public eye more than ever. In a moment more they reached Brooks', and the subject, to Edward's relief, could be changed.

And so they were, hours later, drinking port contentedly ensconced in leather armchairs, having eaten heartily, and talked not half as much as they would have otherwise.

Bingley broke the silence. "So, tell me, Bennet, what matter of business brought you here? I could tell Darcy did not know and wanted to, so I kept my peace, but now I find myself quite curious."

"Why would Darcy know? And furthermore, how did you know he wanted to?"

"So many questions instead of answering mine! It is fine, I will answer first if that is your price," responded Bingley with merry eyes. "My answer to the first would be, 'Darcy knows everything', but as that is patently untrue, I would say, 'Darcy knows almost everything, especially those things that concern his intimate friends'. The answer to the second is quite as easy as that. He did not talk about it, not even in passing. He avoided commenting on the fact with me, even though I tried to speak of it. In fact, he did not mention it once, on any of the conversations we shared about the trip since yesterday."

"Just for that?" Edward knew he sounded disappointed, but he had spoken before he could master himself.

"That is quite enough, I assure you! Darcy does not give a more obvious hint of his mind than that. If he did not care, he would have referred to it, I am sure."

"If you say so, Bingley."

"I say so. What is more, I assure you he will ask you about it, once he has had time to make up his mind how. He is extremely attached to you, you know; I have never known him to make friends so easily. But now, tell me first; it would be the first time I have a chance to know before Darcy something which does not concern me privately." Tempering his tone to one of less eagerness, he added belatedly, "That is, if you want to."

"I have no problem with telling you, I would not consider it a matter of this much interest. It is only some matter of business with the trustees of the estate, for my father."

"Oh, I would have expected something less mundane."

"Like what? Meeting a secret betrothed?"

Bingley started, and then laughed before answering, "That would have been most interesting information to have before Darcy. And I would have been anxious to see you tell him. He has been in such uncharacteristically unpredictable humour lately; I do not know how he would react. He is excessively attentive to the wellbeing of his friends, but he does frown on romantic entanglements of the kind that are not first approved by him!"

Edward, liking and not liking the turn of the conversation, decided to press it to his advantage, "And how, pray tell, would you know Darcy's opinion on his friends' romantic entanglements?"

"I am his friend, of course," said Bingley in a good humoured tone.

"And have you had many chances to personally verify it?"

Suddenly, Bingley's smile was almost nonexistent. "Not many."

"I see."

They were both silent for a while, and Edward felt that it fell on him to begin again, and so he did, trying to lighten the mood he had so thoroughly ruined a moment before, saying, "His preoccupation for his friends does him credit."

"That it does, though one could find it in oneself to wish he did not feel it so necessary."

"One certainly could. Why does he find it so, I wonder?" Edward could not resist the temptation of asking.

"One could suppose he has often seen his friends out of undesired entanglements." Bingley's words were carefully spoken.

"So Darcy's care is necessary after all."

"Well, the undesirability of any thing is, in the end, a matter of subjective opinion."

"So, the friends find themselves regretting having heeded Darcy's advice?" Edward knew his tone to be mild, but he felt anything but.

"No! Of course not!" Bingley seemed to panic in his search for the right words. "I never—his friends never would have heeded it in the first place if they would have not thought his advice sound. It is more a problem of Darcy's thinking that it is never a good time for being married. So his standards, however sound, are rather high for both himself and for his friends."

Edward thought on this information a little, and realized it came as no surprise at all.

A moment later, and he could not avoid smirking while he said, "I hope he approves of my sister, then."

Bingley sat up straight. "I certainly could not care less!" Afterwards, even he seemed surprised for his outburst.

"Not even a bit? Why is that?" Edward knew he sounded amused, a faint echo of his father, but he could not only hope Bingley would not be offended, as it was beyond him to change it.

"She is… come, Bennet, you cannot pretend you do not know it! She is an angel!"

"She certainly is. I am happy you are aware of it."

"How could I not? I may not be the most brilliant fellow, but you cannot think me as deficient as that!"

"No," smiled Edward, "I do not think you deficient at all."

Bingley smiled in response, and sat back. "Well, I am glad."