Darcy’s Second Chance

by Catherine Jennings

  She nodded. As unlikely as it seemed to her that he would make a mistake about such a thing, she did not dwell on it. She was simply glad to have his company again.

  He leapt from his horse and began to walk alongside her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Darcy descended the stairs feeling jubilant. It had taken him weeks to realise the cause of his uncommonly good mood. And then it had struck him quite suddenly as he walked in the grounds with Miss Bennet. No, it had hit him somewhat earlier, to be precise.

  He had lingered in the library that morning, unable to properly focus his attention on the letter he had set out to write. He had paced to the window in frustration. There, he had witnessed the spectacle of Miss Bingley hurrying back towards the house. His first reaction had not been curiosity as to what had happened to make her return in such a hurry. No, it had been relief that he could now seek out Miss Bennet and enjoy their customary morning walk.

  That had caused him to realise the extent of his feelings for her. He had been alarmed at first. Certainly, it was not something he would have consciously chosen to feel, given the trouble her family had found themselves in.

  He shook his head and smiled now as he walked towards the library. It had only been a matter of hours, but he had thought of nothing else since then.

  He had not known what to expect when he returned to England and went immediately to see his old friend Charles Bingley, but he had certainly not expected this!

  Radcliffe House had surprised him. He was not one to pry into his friends’ affairs, but even so he had a good idea of Bingley’s means. The place was hardly a hovel by any means, but certain things were immediately apparent to Darcy’s trained eye.

  As soon as the joy of seeing Bingley had passed, he began to worry about his dear friend. He had reflected at length on the best way to broach the subject—it was not like Darcy to be subtle, but he was prudent enough to know that a man’s reversal of fortunes was no trivial matter.

  In the end, he had not needed to question his friend. A whole scandal had erupted in Radcliffe House not long after his arrival and Bingley had sought him out to ask his advice.

  The truth had emerged then. Darcy had always known about Wickham’s marriage to Lydia Bennet—Bingley had written to him mere months after it occurred. Oceans away in India, Darcy had taken his friend’s nonchalant letter at face value. Now he realised how negligent that had been. Of course Bingley had withheld the full details of what had gone on, for fear of worrying his dear friend. Darcy had been livid with himself for not correctly guessing Wickham was up to his old tricks—not that there had been anything he could do months later from another continent.

  But no matter—Darcy still felt responsible for not coming to his friend’s aid. He could have written to warn his friend and paid off a ship’s captain to deliver the note without delay. In hindsight, he could not see why he had not. He supposed he had assumed the damage was already done. But it had not been. No, he might have prevented this new crisis had he warned Bingley of the full extent of George Wickham’s wickedness all those years before.

  It was for that reason that he had pledged to do everything he could to assist.

  And then she had arrived. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He remembered her well from his time at Netherfield, even though he had not spent long there. She was older now, but she did not appear to have changed a bit. She was as lively as she had been back then—and as quick to object to anything she found disagreeable.

  He smiled at the memory. He had started to grow fond of her before he left Hertfordshire. He had dwelt on her lively eyes and quick wit for many months into his voyage.

  And now! It was not true that age had not changed her, he thought. Rather, it had made her all the more lovely. She was wise and calm and fearless. Oh, how fearless! He had never known a woman like her. He closed his eyes and recalled the look of determination on her face as she struggled with the fact that there was nothing they could do until Hardy made his next move. She was not afraid to contradict Darcy. She was not afraid of anyone. Except… that was not true.

  Anger rose up inside him as he thought of Hardy and the effect that man’s impertinent words had had on Miss Bennet. Darcy had seen the rage in her eyes, and he admired her for keeping her counsel. It would not have been wise to challenge the man. And that was the thing that enraged him the most—he was not accustomed to standing aside and allowing men like that to scare those he cared about.

  He gritted his teeth. He had promised Bingley that he would act as an observer and do nothing that might jeopardise the family’s negotiations. That seemed even more important now that they had learnt what Hardy intended to do to the girl and the children. But how could he simply watch as that awful man destroyed Miss Bennet’s spirit?

  He entered the library and found Bingley behind the desk. He closed the door behind him and strode over to his friend. His thoughts were a frantic jumble of rage at Hardy and endless admiration for Miss Bennet.

  “I say, Darcy,” Bingley said, looking increasingly alarmed. “I have received some news I wanted to discuss with you, but from the look on your face it appears you are even more troubled than I am.”

  All Darcy could do was laugh.

  “Darcy?”

  He shook his head and caught his breath. It was not in his nature to be so open about such things, but he found he could not withhold his feelings any longer.

  “My dear fellow, nothing has happened. Nothing new, in any case. I have simply… reflected.”

  “Reflected? Good heavens, Darcy. I am sure in the past you have only had contempt for the kind of men who spend their days reflecting and cogitating.” He paused. “I suppose given our current predicament it is natural.”

  Darcy found he could not hold back his feelings any longer. “I am beside myself with anger, but that is not the whole of it. Bingley, I am spellbound,” he said, sitting in the chair opposite his friend. “Utterly and impossibly spellbound.”

  “Pray tell me…” Bingley’s face relaxed. “Well, that is not at all what I expected you to say. What has caused you to react in this way?”

  “Your wife’s sister.”

  Bingley snorted with unrefined laughter. “I could not have guessed it in a thousand years. So my darling Jane was right, all this time.”

  Darcy frowned. “How could your wife have known? I have only realised it myself.”

  “Well, you would not believe me if I told you! She came to me one evening…” Bingley faltered. His face fell. “Now, look here, Darcy. I am thrilled beyond words, but we must delay our celebrations for a moment.”

  “What is it, my friend? You look troubled.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  At around the same time as Darcy declared his feelings for her, Elizabeth Bennet was outside engaged in a rather odd game with her eldest niece. The girl was quite unlike other young girls of her age. She had no interest at all in playing hoops or bowls.

  No, Emily Bingley was more interested in the ball she had found while rummaging in the attic a couple of weeks before. It soon emerged that she was something of a natural, though she was not afforded the opportunity to play with it for very long. As soon as her aunt Collins saw what she was doing, Emily was dragged inside and forced to sit in a chair to listen to a lengthy reading from Fordyce’s Sermons.

  It was only when her favourite aunt Elizabeth arrived from Hertfordshire that Emily felt confident enough to mention the ball again. She had heard her mother and Elizabeth discussing balls on many occasions, so she had been confident that her wish might be fulfilled this time, without the knowledge of her dreadful aunt Collins.

  Elizabeth had been only too happy to conspire with her four-year-old niece. The two had waited until the Collinses departed for the chapel before they retrieved the ancient old thing and set about kicking it back and forth on the neatly trimmed lawn in front of the house.

  It was immense fun. Niece and aunt both enjoyed the game, though it could be noted that only Emily showed
any skill at playing. Her aunt, though stronger, had rather poorer aim. Not ten minutes passed before she had kicked the blasted thing right at one of Jane’s prized rose bushes.

  Elizabeth’s first worry was that the thing might snag on a thorn. She raced over, hoping that little Emily’s beloved toy was unscathed.

  She bent and set about retrieving the thing. It was not an easy task. It had wedged itself firmly behind the bush, which was thick and old. She did not wish to pull too hard lest she damage the ball or injure herself on the rose’s frightful thorns.

  Her hair fell in her face yet she persevered, picturing Emily’s crestfallen little face if she did not. She had just managed to get a firm grip on the thing when she heard a voice waft towards her from the library window directly above.

  “I received a letter this morning. From Hardy.”

  At that moment, Elizabeth forgot her niece; forgot the ball; forgot everything. She froze and flattened herself against the wall, hand still on the ball so that any observer would think she was still working to free it. She did not know why—after all, she was privy to the discussion and she might have gone and asked them about the letter.

  But she needed to know now. Thankfully, little Emily was distracted by a puddle of water. Elizabeth watched her intently as she listened to the faint voice she could just about make out.

  “Yes. Well. We knew it was coming.” Even if she hadn’t recognised Darcy’s voice, she felt sure she would have known it was him from his clipped way of speaking.

  “We did.”

  “What is it, Bingley? You do not look at all pleased. We have prepared ourselves, have we not?”

  “I am afraid, my dear friend, that we have not. Elizabeth was right, you see, as she so often is.”

  Elizabeth was now rigid with alarm and had been even before her name was uttered. It was Bingley’s tone. It was not like him to sound so flat. Nor did she like the fact that her name had been mentioned. She had just about convinced herself that her suspicions about Hardy’s intentions had been based on paranoid rather than logic.

  “In what way?” Darcy’s words pulled her straight back to the present.

  “It is as she predicted. Hardy is willing to accept a smaller settlement—not that much smaller, mind you, but if we accept he has agreed to forgo any future interest on the total sum. But he has expressed his desire to meet Miss Bennet. And it is quite clear from his words what he means.”

  Darcy said something that she did not quite catch.

  “It is as I have told you. Here. Read it for yourself.”

  The two men were silent. By now her heart was thumping so loud that she was certain they must be able to hear it. Emily grew bored of playing in the muddy water and started to walk towards her. She gestured desperately for the girl to stay away.

  “You are right. He does not say it outright but I agree his intentions are clear.”

  “Yes,” Bingley said unhappily.

  “I cannot fathom the man’s impertinence. He wishes to marry Miss Bennet. Who does he think he is, making demands of this manner? It is not just impertinent; it is an outrage to decency. He is a scoundrel of the highest order.”

  “I understand your feelings, Darcy. But you know enough about the man to know he can make any demands he wishes to make. You know who he is. And you know what he is capable of.”

  She had never heard her brother-in-law sound so serious. It worried her to no end. It worried her too that Darcy sounded uncertain about the whole thing, as if he did not know what to do. She did not know what to do either—none of them did. She had declared herself willing to marry that awful man in order to save her nieces and nephews. Well, now it seemed to her that such a declaration had been easier to make when they were unsure of Hardy’s demands. Could she really sacrifice herself in such a way? She shivered as she imagined what that would mean.

  “We will not go along with it. Elizabeth will not consent to it and I would not wish her to.”

  “It does not sound like you have much choice. He has found a weak point. She is unwed. She cares deeply for her sister.”

  “He cannot know that.”

  “Of course he can. It was implied in the way we all hurried to accept his preposterous dinner invitation. As if we would have accepted it in any other situation.”

  “We must protect her. She will consider it, you know. To protect those children.”

  “She would be a fool. We must stop her. The man is a criminal.”

  The men fell silent. Emily came closer and closer to Elizabeth, despite the latter’s desperate, silent entreaties for her to stay away.

  “Darcy!” Bingley cried after a lengthy silence, during which Elizabeth began to suspect the men must have left the room. “There is one thing… what you told me earlier… if you married her, then it would solve the problem of—”

  “Marry Miss Bennet?”

  His voice was an indignant roar that took Elizabeth by surprise, quite aside from what Bingley had just said.

  The disdain in his voice. She could not stop thinking about it no matter how serious and shocking their other words had been. It was all she could focus on.

  “Yes,” Bingley said plaintively. “Consider it. It would make sense. It would certainly save her from marriage to this wretch.”

  “How can you even suggest such a thing?”

  By now little Emily had heeded Elizabeth’s hand gestures, but only because she had been distracted by the fountain. She had just about succeeded in hoisting herself onto it. Elizabeth had no choice but to rush to stop her wayward niece. She left her hiding place reluctantly, with tears streaming down her face at such a volume that she could barely see where she was going.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bingley shifted in his seat. “I am afraid I must have misunderstood. When you said you were spellbound by her I took that to mean that you had become extremely fond of her. Is that not what you meant?”

  “Of course that is what I meant,” Darcy said, frowning. “It has taken me quite by surprise, but I am surer of it than anything. I adore Miss Bennet. She is a remarkable woman quite unlike any other I have met.”

  “Why, then, would you reject my suggestion that you marry her? Oh my… Have you already proposed? Surely she has not turned you down.”

  “No, of course not. I have not made my feelings known to her and I do not know what her feelings are.”

  “Ah,” Bingley said, recovering his composure. This was a situation he had encountered with other friends on a few occasions, though he would never have expected it from Fitzwilliam Darcy. “You are afraid to tell her then. Darcy, I realise it may be somewhat uncomfortable to confess your feelings to a you—”

  “It is not that!” Darcy snapped.

  He sighed and paced to the window. He smiled sadly as he took in the sight below. Miss Bennet was playing at the fountain some distance away with one of the Bingleys’ daughters. Her love for the child was evident. He did not doubt she would go ahead with the awful marriage if she was given the choice—not when children’s lives were at stake.

  It was an impossible situation.

  He paced back to his friend and rapped his knuckles on the table. He was beyond infuriated now. His earlier good humour had evaporated. Not even his love for her could lift his spirits. He had never been so angry.

  “I cannot marry her to stop this man attempting to coerce her hand. Can you not see?”

  Bingley shook his head. “No, I cannot. You told me how you felt for her. What does it matter why you propose to her?”

  “What would she think?” Darcy snapped. “She is a clever woman. She would realise the truth immediately. And what then? You and I both know that Hardy has a way of knowing all there is to know of a person. We would have to go through with the marriage. We would have no choice but to do so.”

  “And then?” Bingley laughed, frowning up at his old friend as if he was a rather curious stranger. “I can only imagine that you would live a long and happy life together as man
and wife.”

  Darcy collapsed back down in his chair. “No, it would be nothing of the kind! Do you not see? It would hang over our happiness for the rest of our lives. How could I ever convince her that I had married for love and not out of obligation?”

  “I do not see that you have a choice! Would you rather watch her marry that man?”

  “No, of course not. I will not marry her just to stop her from marrying him. I love her, Bingley. More ardently than I have ever loved anyone.”

  “Darcy, you must! Do you not see? She will not refuse him! Not when doing so would lead to not only her sister’s downfall but the utter destruction of her niece and nephews’ lives. There is nothing else to be done! I wish it were a case of paying off his debts—by that I mean me, of course, not you. It is not your responsibility Darcy.”

  “That is no solution either! If you pay them off now they will begin to accrue again soon after. Are you to spend the rest of your life throwing money at Wickham’s creditors?”

  “No. I suppose at least this way…”

  “Do you think he will accept it? Say I was to marry her. A man like that would hardly agree to the reduced debt if he is no longer to receive the rest of his demands.”

  “Elizabeth will not think of it that way,” Bingley warned.

  “I know,” Darcy agreed sadly.

  “But you will do it, will you not! There is no other way. It is not just a matter of saving those children now. We must save Elizabeth.”

  They sat in silence for a while. Darcy looked around the room. His heart ached with longing for her, but he was steadfast in his decision. How could he marry her for such a reason? Even if she agreed, she would resent him for the rest of her days.

  “Well? We must respond to him soon, you know. He will be expecting it.”

  Darcy might have cursed his very name but he knew there was no sense in it. Giving vent to his anger would only further waste time—time that could be used to think of a way out of this.