Pride & Prejudice: Prelude to Pemberley: Darcy’s Disappointment

Welcome to our Pride & Prejudice prequel! P&P: Prelude to Pemberley tells the story of the time leading up to the events of Pride & Prejudice, including what Darcy and Elizabeth were doing and thinking, Georgiana Darcy’s story, the events of Ramsgate, how Mr. Bingley came to lease Netherfield, and much more! Join us on our journey as the Austen Variations authors post the events of 1811 in real time on the date they happened – 214 years in the future.

Darcy’s Disappointment: A Walk in Hyde Park

September 24, 1811

It had taken considerable persuasion to draw Georgiana from the house. For weeks now, she had shown little inclination for society or even the mildest diversions, preferring the solitude of her chambers or, at best, the music room where she might lose herself in melancholy airs that did nothing to improve her spirits. Mrs. Annesley had proved a godsend in this regard. Her quiet, unobtrusive presence seemed to comfort Georgiana, and it was she who had gently suggested that some fresh air might prove beneficial.

“The weather is warm and the sky clear. Perhaps,” Mrs. Annesley had ventured in her careful way, “Miss Darcy might be persuaded to take a turn about the park?”

Darcy had seized upon the suggestion with alacrity, though he had been careful not to reveal the full extent of his enthusiasm. The last thing he wished was to reveal his motives. No, this must seem entirely natural, a brotherly concern for Georgiana’s health, nothing more.

When Bingley arrived at the appointed hour, his usual ebullience intact despite the early call, Darcy felt a surge of confidence in his stratagem. His friend was as reliable as sunrise, his good humour proof against any circumstance. If anyone could draw Georgiana from her melancholy and remind her of life’s pleasures, surely it was Bingley.

“Darcy!” Bingley exclaimed, bounding up the steps with characteristic energy. “What a capital notion this is! I confess, I have been feeling rather restless myself. There is something about this time of year—the change in the air, perhaps—that makes one long for movement, for open spaces.”

“Indeed,” Darcy replied, ushering his friend into the morning room where Georgiana waited. “I thought you might appreciate the opportunity for a pleasant stroll after all your recent exertions with the estate agents.”

Georgiana rose as they entered, offering Bingley a smile that, while wan, was genuine. She was dressed in a walking dress of soft blue, her bonnet already in hand, and Darcy noted with approval that Mrs. Annesley had managed to persuade her to take some care with her appearance. She looked, if not precisely enthusiastic for their outing, then at least presentable for company.

“Miss Darcy,” Bingley said, executing a bow with just the right degree of formality tempered by warmth. “How delightful to see you looking so well. I do hope you are quite recovered from your recent indisposition?”

“Thank you, Mr. Bingley,” Georgiana replied quietly. “I am much improved, I believe. And I understand congratulations are in order. Fitzwilliam tells me you have taken a lease on an estate in Hertfordshire.”

Darcy observed this exchange with careful attention, noting the ease with which Bingley’s presence seemed to settle his sister’s nerves. There was none of the painful shyness that so often afflicted her in company, none of the stammering self-consciousness that had plagued her since the unfortunate business of the summer. This, surely, was a promising beginning.

The walk to Hyde Park was accomplished with minimal conversation, Georgiana content to listen as Bingley regaled them with tales of his negotiations with the estate agent, his infectious enthusiasm lending drama to what might otherwise have been a rather dry recitation of terms and conditions. Darcy found himself falling back a pace or two, allowing his sister and friend to walk together while he closely observed their interaction.

Hyde Park in September presented a picture of serene beauty. The great trees that lined the paths showed the first touches of autumn colour while the plantings remained green and lush.

“How peaceful it is,” Georgiana observed, and Darcy noted with satisfaction that her voice carried something approaching pleasure. “I had forgotten how much I enjoy walking here when it is not overrun with company.”

“Oh, but surely you do not dislike company entirely?” Bingley asked with his characteristic good nature. “Though I confess, there is something to be said for having the place to ourselves. One can actually hear the birds sing, for one thing.”

As if summoned by his words, a lark’s trill rang out from somewhere among the trees, clear and sweet in the morning air. Georgiana smiled. It was the first natural, unguarded smile Darcy had seen from her in weeks, and he felt his heart lift with hope.

“Do you mean to keep horses at Netherfield, Mr. Bingley?” she asked, and Darcy had to suppress a thrill of triumph.

“Oh, indeed I do,” Bingley replied with enthusiasm. “The stables are in excellent condition, and there are some capital rides through the countryside, or so I am told. Perhaps—” he glanced at Darcy, then back to Georgiana—”perhaps you might be persuaded to come and see the place for yourself? I should very much value your opinion on the grounds, particularly the gardens. I am told there is a music room that overlooks the shrubbery, which might appeal to someone of your accomplishments.”

Georgiana’s smile remained, but Darcy detected a subtle withdrawal in her manner, a dutiful politeness creeping into her tone. “That is very kind of you to suggest, Mr. Bingley. I am sure the estate is quite charming.”

The response was mild, almost mechanical, and Darcy felt his earlier confidence begin to waver. Still, he told himself, these things required patience. One could not expect dramatic declarations of interest after a single conversation.

Determined to guide the discussion into more promising channels, Darcy interjected carefully, “Georgiana, you have often expressed a desire for a garden of your own. Perhaps Bingley might describe some of the improvements he has in mind? I believe you mentioned plans for new plantings?”

“Oh, yes indeed!” Bingley seized upon the topic with his usual enthusiasm. “The grounds offer tremendous potential, though they have been sadly neglected in recent years. I have been corresponding with a gardener in town who has the most fascinating ideas about natural design. Sweeping prospects, artfully placed groves, that sort of thing. Nothing too extensive or formal, of course, as I will only lease, but something that works in harmony with the existing features.”

“That sounds very pleasant,” Georgiana replied, but her tone remained politely distant, as though she were discussing the weather with a casual acquaintance rather than exploring a topic of genuine interest.

Darcy felt a prickle of frustration. Surely she could show more enthusiasm? But he reminded himself that Georgiana’s spirits remained fragile, that her natural reserve had been heightened by recent trials. Perhaps he was expecting too much too soon.

They continued walking, following the path that wound through the quieter sections of the park. Bingley, seemingly oblivious to any awkwardness, launched into a spirited account of his first meeting with the steward, describing with self-deprecating humour his efforts to appear knowledgeable about the crops the estate grew.

“I fear I made a complete fool of myself,” he confessed with a laugh. “There I was, nodding wisely as old Higgs explained the finer points of corn cultivation, when I suddenly realised I had been agreeing that corn should be planted in December! The poor man was testing me, and I suspect he now believes me a veritable idiot.”

To Darcy’s delight, this drew a laugh from Georgiana, light and musical. His heart leaped with renewed hope. Surely this was progress! Surely this was the beginning of something deeper!

“Oh, but Mr. Bingley,” Georgiana said, still smiling, “I am certain you are being far too hard on yourself. I am sure the steward appreciates your willingness to learn. It cannot be easy, taking on such responsibilities for the first time.”

“You are very kind to say so,” Bingley replied warmly. “Though I suspect your brother would never have made such a blunder. He has an instinctive understanding of these matters—always so perfectly correct in his judgements!”

Georgiana’s voice took on a distinctly mischievous quality that reminded Darcy of the spirited girl she had been before the world had taught her to doubt herself. “Oh, but you are quite mistaken, Mr. Bingley. He is the best of brothers, but he can be every bit as foolish as anyone else.”

The warmth of their shared laughter filled the air, and for a moment, Darcy allowed himself to believe that his plan was succeeding beyond his wildest hopes. Here they were, relaxed and comfortable in each other’s company, sharing the easy intimacy of amusement. Surely this was how affection began, with such moments of unguarded connection?

But as their laughter subsided and they continued their walk, Darcy found himself studying their interaction more closely. When Georgiana teased Bingley about his character, when she smiled at his self-deprecating tales, it was with the fond indulgence one might show a sibling, not the flutter of a young woman discovering feelings for an attractive gentleman.

Darcy began steering the conversation toward topics he knew to be dear to Georgiana’s heart—music, literature, charitable works that might allow her natural compassion to shine forth. Perhaps, he reasoned, they simply needed to discover common ground beyond superficial pleasantries.

“Georgiana has been working on a particularly challenging piece by Mozart,” he ventured as they paused beside a small ornamental lake. “Perhaps she might favour us with a performance when next you visit, Bingley.”

“I should be honoured to hear you play, Miss Darcy,” Bingley said.

Georgiana’s response was everything that was proper and polite, but again Darcy detected that careful distance, that dutiful courtesy that spoke of obligation rather than inclination.

He felt his confidence ebb further. He tried once more, raising the subject of charitable work, knowing it to be one of Georgiana’s genuine interests. But while she spoke with more animation about the plight of the local poor, and while Bingley responded with characteristic warmth and generosity of spirit, there remained that fundamental quality of friendly civility rather than particular regard.

The final blow came as they turned into his street, when Georgiana, in what was clearly a moment of genuine gratitude, turned to Bingley with a smile of such open affection that Darcy’s heart momentarily soared—only to be dashed by her words.

“I am so very glad you are such a good friend to my brother, Mr. Bingley,” she said warmly. “I do not know what he would do without you. It is almost as though you were another brother, and I count that a precious thing indeed.”

The words hung in the air like a death knell to Darcy’s hopes. Another brother.

Bingley, for his part, beamed with genuine pleasure at being so designated, clearly delighted to be counted among the family circle. “My dear Miss Darcy,” he said with evident emotion, “you cannot know what happiness it gives me to hear you say so.”

As they approached the front door of Darcy House, Georgiana began to hum softly under her breath, a gentle, contented sound that spoke of improved spirits. Darcy found himself caught between gratitude for this sign of his sister’s recovery and rueful acknowledgment of his own miscalculation.

As they entered the house and Bingley took his leave with promises to call again soon, Darcy found himself alone with his sister in the entry. Georgiana’s improved colour and the light in her eyes spoke eloquently of the outing’s success, and Darcy realised that perhaps that was achievement enough for one day.

“Thank you for suggesting the walk, Fitzwilliam,” she said quietly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “I had not realised how much I missed the simple pleasure of being out of doors. And Mr. Bingley is such comfortable company. It is no wonder you value his friendship so highly.”

“I am glad you enjoyed yourself, dearest,” Darcy replied.

Perhaps, he mused as he watched her ascend the stairs with something approaching her old grace, the answer to Georgiana’s troubles lay not in romantic attachment but in something more difficult to accomplish, the gradual rebuilding of her confidence in the fundamental goodness of human nature. Perhaps what she needed was not a husband but the assurance that while there were unkind people in the world that there were also people like Bingley, who were honest, caring, and trustworthy.

He supposed there were worse fates than remaining under his protection, surrounded by those who loved her and valued her for herself alone. Still, Darcy would never relax his guard against those who might seek to take advantage of Georgiana’s gentle nature or the fortune that made her so vulnerable. Bitter experience had taught him that the world contained more Wickhams than Bingleys, and he was resolved never again to be taken unawares.

Read all the scenes in Prelude to Pemberley here!