‘I was reflecting on the last time we spoke.’ He blurted the words out, not trusting himself to utter them at all if he allowed himself time to reconsider.
Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Were you?’
He had expected her to tease him or to make some witty remark. Her silence left him wrong-footed. ‘Yes, I was,’ he said hopelessly. Darcy was an eloquent man, but that had always been on the subject of politics or land reform. Not on matters of the heart! He feared he did not even possess the vocabulary necessary to say what he must now say.
But I must try, damn it! he thought feverishly. For what good is restraint and prudence if I walk away from her tonight never to see her again? My life would be far less enjoyable as a result, surely!
That settled it for him. ‘Yes I was,’ he said seriously. ‘And I must own that I was unsuccessful in getting across my utter…’
A piercing sound shattered the gaiety in the room. He looked around in bewilderment. His first instinct was to finish what he was saying, but he could not as the crowd surged this way and that in utter panic and she was pulled away from him before he knew it.
It was only then that he realised what was happening. A woman was shrieking at the top of her voice that there was a fire. He looked around frantically to identify the source of the voice or the location of the fire, but he could not. He moved in the direction it was coming from, but his progress was prevented by a sea of people who were desperately trying to move in the opposite direction.
His heart hammered. Where was Bingley? He could not see through the crowd.
He turned, thinking to shout at the attendees to leave the room so that everyone might be counted and deemed safe. A moment later, he realised that was what they were all doing of their own accord. He flattened himself against the wall and watched the crowd, hoping for some sign of Bingley. By now Miss Elizabeth had disappeared and though he felt considerable regret at her departure, he was relieved that she was at least safe.
Finally, the crowd began to thin and Darcy was able to move back towards the interior of the house.
‘Charles!’ he shouted, looking around. Mercifully there was no smoke yet, but he knew these things could escalate within seconds.
He looked around to see his best path of escape before he proceeded.
‘Charles!’ he screamed again. ‘Are you there? Come on, we must get out!’
He pushed through the door at the back of the room and found Bingley in the hallway.
‘Come on, man! We must get out of here and distance ourselves.’
‘I cannot find the fire, Darcy. I must find it and put it out. I…’
‘No you must not,’ Darcy said, gripping his friend’s arm and dragging him down the hallway and back towards the ballroom. ‘Not at the risk of your life.’
‘But if I do not put it out, who will do it? We are in the middle of town. There are houses attached to this one.’
Darcy’s stomach lurched. It was late now and no doubt there were people in the neighbouring houses who were fast asleep and unlikely to hear the commotion. ‘We shall alert them, Bingley. Come. We shall bang on the doors and tell them they must get out. Then there will be time to see about the fire.’
They hurried out. A crowd had gathered on the other side of the narrow street, arms tightly crossed over their chests in a vain attempt to protect themselves from the night-time cold. Darcy scanned their faces but could see no sign of her as he ran past.
‘Move away,’ he roared. ‘You must all move to safety.’
He hurried in one direction and Bingley took the other, banging their fists on the grand front doors of Bingley’s neighbours until servants were roused to answer.
It was only when they had cleared out the two houses on either side that Darcy stopped and looked around, frowning as he did so. Bingley’s guests had mostly taken heed and moved away or returned home, so that the only ones standing around were mainly neighbours in shawls and nightgowns. He could barely see them in the darkness.
The darkness was what confused him. There was no light from the flames, which he knew should surely have intensified by now. He stopped what he was doing and moved slowly back to Bingley’s house.
There was not a sound coming from it now, since all of the servants and guests had moved outside. He met Bingley’s manservant on the steps leading to the glossy black front door.
‘There is no fire, sir. The young lady must have been mistaken.’
Darcy looked around, aggrieved beyond measure.
Chapter Twenty-One
Darcy paced the library of his London home for what must have been the tenth time that day. He typically did not have any trouble sitting for hours at a time and concentrating on the volume he was reading, but he had found it impossible to sit still and focus his mind since the ball at Bingley’s.
It was maddening. He had finally determined to confess his true feelings to Miss Elizabeth and at the exact moment he had tried to do so, some foolish young woman had somehow gotten it into her head that the building was on fire. Which it had never been—they had determined this after an exhaustive search of the house. Of course, at that point it was too late to return to the matter at hand, for Miss Elizabeth was long gone.
He stopped at the window and looked down at the street below. Oh how he longed to see her walk past so that he might rush out and have it seem as though their meeting was nothing more than a fortuitous encounter. He knew it was highly unlikely even as he thought this. After all, what business would she have on his street?
He had thought about wandering the streets close to hers—after all, he knew the house—but he had decided against it. He had no reason to be there and the chances of simply encountering her were so small that there seemed little sense in bothering.
If only her father was in residence so he might call on him under some pretext or other! But he was not and that was the cause of Darcy’s predicament.
Georgiana was in Pemberley with her companion, but even if she had been in residence in the London house he would have been hesitant to prevail on her to call on the Bennets. She was not out in society yet and it was not the done thing. Nor would he have done so even if she was at an age where such social calls were appropriate—he loved his sister dearly and could not bear the thought of using her as a pawn in his attempts to court Miss Elizabeth.
Inspiration struck him then as he recalled the night of the ball and Bingley’s reluctance to dance with anyone other than Miss Bennet.
He was hurrying down the steps and onto the street a short while later.
* * *
‘Ah, Darcy! What a pleasure it is to see you again so soon!’
He smiled. They were dear friends and they lived not half a mile apart, but Darcy was not the sort to seek company every hour of the day and evening. He typically saw his friends once a fortnight at best, and that was when he had no estate business to attend to with his lawyers.
‘Bingley it is good to see you too. Have you been well?’
He sat in front of his friend’s desk, relieved to find the man alone in the house. He might have checked to be certain, but refrained from doing so. It was never wise to ask after a man’s unmarried sister, no matter how close one was to him.
Bingley sighed in a way that was most unlike him. ‘Well, I suppose.’
Darcy was alarmed. From anyone else that might be a normal response, but from Bingley it was equivalent to declaring himself truly and utterly defeated by daunting circumstances. ‘Whatever is the matter? Has something happened to your sister?’
‘Heavens no, though she is part of my problem.’
‘Do explain, dear friend. Perhaps I can help you.’
Bingley pouted. ‘I do not think it is possible. You see, I thought my sister might indulge me and call on the Bennet sisters. She is acquainted with them you see and… and…’
Darcy smiled and shook his head. ‘Do not be embarrassed to say it. You cannot very well present yourself at their door but your sister can. And then they s
hall feel obligated to return the call.’
‘Yes, that is exactly it,’ Bingley muttered as he turned rather pinkish.
‘There is no shame in it. You are not the first fellow to engage his sister in such tactics.’
‘No, I am not,’ his friend replied morosely. ‘But I am the rare fellow whose sister refuses to indulge his simple wishes.’
‘Whatever do you mean? I thought you said they were acquainted.’
‘They are, they are. But Caroline simply refuses.’
‘On what grounds?’
Bingley sighed. ‘On the grounds that she would really rather not. I do not know why, but she truly appears to have taken against the Bennet sisters and it is a shame. They are kind and wonderful and…’
Darcy’s attention waned as he recalled the day of the ball and numerous days before that when he visited his friend and found Bingley’s sister in attendance, smiling and preening as if… as if…’ his eyes shot open in horror.
‘What is it, Darcy? You look as though you have just seen a ghost.’
Darcy glanced at his friend and winced. He could not very well share the terrible conclusion he had just made. Not when it concerned his friend’s sister.
But to him it seemed clear. The explanation fit. She had been there on the night of the ball and she had certainly sought to make herself agreeable to Darcy. He wondered if he was being vain in concluding that, but then another fact presented itself to him. He had heard her speak on a few occasions of her dear friend Alice. He had not thought much of it at the time for he was not acquainted with Lord Henry’s sister, but he recalled it now with a growing sense of horror. It was none other than Miss Bingley who had gone to such lengths to cut Miss Elizabeth and her sisters off from society and she was no doubt the one who had cried fire when she feared her brother and his friend were becoming too close to the Bennet sisters.
He frowned. ‘I have just recalled something a friend told me. Nothing to concern yourself with, my friend.’
‘Ah,’ Bingley said, shaking his head. ‘I hope it is not something that shall cause you to take you leave so soon. You must stay and eat.’
Darcy looked around. ‘Perhaps I can speak to your sister and attempt to change her mind.’
On hearing this, Bingley laughed gaily. ‘Ah, you may try but Caroline’s mind is not usually for turning once she has decided on something. She is not here, in any case.’
‘Well I shall try,’ Darcy said quietly. ‘When does she return?’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Miss Caroline Bingley returned to her brother’s house within the hour, as it turned out. Darcy had spent that hour in pleasant conversation with his friend, though the chat mostly concerned the elder Miss Bennet and not her closest sister. He did not feel as comfortable disclosing his innermost thoughts as his friend did.
Now he bided his time. Miss Bingley entered the library and he was perfectly pleasant to her. It was not until they were called for lunch and Bingley excused himself that Darcy made his move. He cleared his throat loudly and the servants present hurried from the room.
‘Mr. Darcy,’ Miss Bingley simpered, turning to him from her position at the fireplace. She tossed her hair in a way he presumed was designed to entice, but that he simply found irritating. ‘If I were the sort to create conspiracies in my mind, I might conclude that you wished to tell me something so scandalous that even the servants could not overhear.’
‘No,’ he said plainly. ‘I was concerned only for your dignity when I sent them away.’
She flushed and smiled coquettishly, and then she must have interpreted the look on his face. Her smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘I mean, Miss Bingley,’ he whispered, taking a step closer so that he could keep his voice low and ensure they were not overheard by anyone, ‘ that I have lately learned of your frightful conduct towards Miss Bennet and her sisters and I would not wish for anyone else to learn of depths of your malice.’
‘Mr. Darcy, I do not know what you mean!’
He looked around. He did not have much time and he would not continue this conversation in his friend’s company—it was too cruel. As frustrated as Bingley was with his sister, Darcy knew he loved the woman dearly. He cleared his throat. ‘Miss Bingley, you know well what I mean. You enlisted the help of Lady Alice Trevalyan to ensure the Bennets were removed from the list at Almack’s. Not satisfied with that, you claimed there was a fire in this very house in order to keep your brother away from Miss Bennet.’ He did not mention his theory that she had done so in order to keep him from Miss Elizabeth—some things could not be said no matter how angry one was and he had no wish to be more impertinent than was needed.
‘I did not, I…’ she flushed redder than he had ever seen and was clawing at the collar of her gown. He felt a fleeting burst of sympathy for her, but he could not afford to pause and reconsider his actions—there was no time to do so.
‘Miss Bingley, there is no sense in protesting something which I have determined is a certainty.’
‘You have no proof of it!’ she cried, turning away and burying her face in her hands.
‘No, I do not,’ he said mildly. ‘But I do not need it. Your brother is a dear friend of mine and he will surely see the truth in my words when I tell him. I have never had cause to lie to him before; nor do I have any reason to do so now.’
‘You would not do such a thing!’ she gasped. ‘It would be unforgivably wicked.’
He sighed. The exchange gave him no pleasure but it was vital that he continue. ‘Perhaps it would, but would it not be more wicked to keep a brother in ignorance of his sister’s wicked nature?’
‘I… you are… I…’
He heard a commotion outside in the hallway and knew his time was running out. He had no intention of telling Bingley what he had just accused her of, but she had no reason to know that.
‘Listen to me, Miss Bingley. You must do exactly as I tell you. That is the only way you can guarantee my silence on the matter. I shall not tell a soul what I have discovered but only if you follow my instructions.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Elizabeth Bennet could not believe her eyes when Miss Caroline Bingley was led into the drawing-room. In fact, so surprised was she that she was unable to hide her reaction. She gasped and twisted around in her chair to look at Jane, who appeared just as astonished as she was.
What good fortune! Not even a day had passed since she tried to convince Jane to call on the young lady, and now here she was.
Lizzy frowned. There was something subdued about Miss Bingley. She was not her usual effusive self. She shook her head and stood to greet their visitor. Perhaps she was mistaken. After all, she did not know the young woman well, so how could she say for sure?
* * *
The week had dragged on at an appalling pace as Jane and, to a lesser extent, Elizabeth, waited and wondered when it might be appropriate to return Miss Bingley’s call. They spent hours huddled in Elizabeth’s bedroom, forming increasingly elaborate theories as to when Mr. Bingley would most likely be present.
As it happened, they were spared any further despair on the Friday, when they received an invitation to dine with the Bingleys.
If they had thought the preceding days passed with torturous slowness, it was nothing compared to the cruel manner in which that Friday seemed to drag on endlessly. They hurried upstairs to begin their toilette at a ludicrously early hour and drew the task out for as long as they possibly could.
Finally, the hour came where they might reasonably depart the house for Bingley’s.
* * *
Miss Bingley was similarly subdued when she greeted them, but Lizzy paid her little attention now and it was not simply because she was too busy focusing on the clear delight with which Jane and Mr. Bingley greeted each other.
It was not just Bingley and his sister—Mr. Darcy was present too!
She tried to hide her delight but she could no
t. The best she could do was warmly greet their host and hostess before she turned her attention to Darcy.
‘Mr. Darcy, this is a surprise,’ she whispered as she bowed and told herself to stop smiling like a fool.
She could not.
Especially when she noticed that his own expression was just as joyous.
They were not seated together at dinner and she had trouble focusing on the conversation. All she could do was look at him, even though she told herself it was hardly polite to do so. The trouble was, each time she looked up at him she found him watching her. It was such a delightful game that she had little interest in anything else.
The food might have been sawdust for all the attention she paid to it. It was not, of course. Bingley had spared no expense in throwing them a feast unlike anything she had ever seen. Her lack of appetite had more to do with her roiling stomach than it did with the quality of the food, which she could tell was first rate.
‘Is it not to your liking, Miss Elizabeth?’ Miss Bingley asked quietly. ‘You must forgive my brother for his lack of hospitality.’
It took great effort for Elizabeth to hide her smile. It had been clear to her all evening that the only thing Mr. Bingley had in mind was Jane. He was seated on Jane’s other side and they had spent the whole evening whispering and smiling and seeming to all accounts like a couple that had not a care in the world so long as they had each other for company.
‘Yes, it is wonderful, Miss Bingley. My appetite is lacking today, that is all.’
‘I do hope you are not ill, Miss Elizabeth,’ Darcy remarked. He was seated beside Miss Bingley on the other side of the table and the conversation between those two was in marked contrast to that of Jane and Bingley. It appeared scarcely two words had passed between the two of them.
Miss Bingley looked at him askance but then looked away again without a word.
The Last to Know Page 8