It was then Miss Bingley found yet another opportunity. “My dear Miss Eliza,” she said, with that falsely concerned look Elizabeth had already learned to distrust, “after such a trying afternoon, I am sure you must long to be back at Lambton and in your own things.”
Elizabeth had been about to answer that, at present, she longed chiefly for a fire, when Aunt Gardiner smiled.
“How thoughtful of you, Miss Bingley. Indeed, I have already asked that our carriage be brought round as soon as the road was judged passable. My husband and my niece have both been soaked through, and Lizzy for the second time today. Pemberley’s servants have been wonderfully forbearing, but there are limits to what even the best household can forgive in the way of ruined stockings.”
Miss Bingley’s expression cleared almost imperceptibly. She thought she had won.
Elizabeth saw it, and her aunt’s raised eyebrow suggested that she had seen it too. Uncle Gardiner, who had been unnecessarily interested in watching the footman carry away his trout, saw it as well, for he cocked his head slightly and shot her aunt a quizzical glance.
“You give no trouble,” said Mr. Darcy at once, more quickly than mere civility required.
Aunt Gardiner turned to him with warmth, and with something quieter beneath it. “You are very good to say so. We have already trespassed a great deal upon your kindness, and I should be ashamed to extend the offence. You have many guests today, and the inn, as you know, is but five miles away.”
There it was, so lightly offered that no one could have accused her of offering anything at all.
Mr. Darcy’s eyes moved from Aunt Gardiner to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth could not tell whether he had understood her aunt’s invitation. Worse, she could not tell whether hehadunderstood and meant, with perfect politeness, to decline. She looked down at the water-darkened hem of her gown and was suddenly conscious of every splatter of mud upon it.
Mr. Darcy opened his mouth to answer, but Miss Bingley spoke first.
“Then you are quite right, Mrs. Gardiner,” she said. “After such a day, quiet must be the very thing.”
It appeared Miss Bingley had missed her aunt’s hint, so anxious was she to see them gone.
Uncle Gardiner coughed into his hand, and Aunt Gardiner just offered Mr. Darcy a smile.
Mr. Darcy bowed. “I shall see you out.”
“That is very kind,” said Aunt Gardiner.
Miss Bingley smiled, satisfied. She had heard only the promise of departure, and that was enough.
Elizabeth and the Gardiners made their abbreviated farewells, and Mr. Darcy walked them to the front of the house.
“Miss Bennet,” he said. “It has been a great pleasure to have you here at Pemberley.”
The words were perfectly proper. They were no more than a host might say to any departing guest. Mr. Darcy’s expression gave her nothing sure, and she could not sort polite gratitudefrom genuine interest quickly enough to discern which he meant to convey.
“We have been very much obliged to you,” she said. “For more than the picnic.”
His eyes came back to hers. Something in his expression altered, but as she could not read Mr. Darcy’s intentions in his countenance, it left her still in a state of uncertainty.
“I hope—” he said, and stopped to seek the right words.
Behind them, Miss Bingley’s voice rose, smooth and sweet, from the hall. “Mrs. Gardiner, your carriage must be ready, I am sure. We must not keep you standing in a draught after such a day.”
Aunt Gardiner turned at once, all gratitude. “How very good of you to think of it.”
Miss Bingley smiled. “Not at all. After so much rain, one cannot be too careful.”
Uncle Gardiner appeared at his wife’s side with his damp hat in hand. “My dear, Miss Bingley is quite right. We must be carried off before I take root in Mr. Darcy’s hall.”
Mr. Darcy almost smiled. Elizabeth saw it and had to look away.
The carriage stood at the sweep, the steps already down, the horses steaming lightly in the cleared air. The rain had left the gravel dark and shining.
Mr. Darcy walked out with them.