Darcy’s Second Chance

by Catherine Jennings

  “I will not marry her for that reason, Bingley. That is my final word on the matter. Even if I agreed, she would not. Marrying me will not help her save those children.”

  “What is to be done then?”

  “Write to the man,” Darcy said calmly. “Write to him and tell him I am on my way to see him.”

  “Surely you do not mean that. What do you plan to do? We have already discussed this. He will be protected. If he thinks you intend to challenge him to a duel I have no doubt that he shall find a way to win. Men like that have no honour. He will not fight like a gentleman.”

  “Perhaps,” Darcy said with a shrug. “Now, I must prepare. You must do one thing for me, my dear friend.”

  “Anything, Darcy. You know I would do anything for you after all you have done for us.”

  “In that case it is settled. I have just this one request. If asked, please do not tell anyone where I have gone.”

  “They will surely notice your disappearance. My sister is very observant—it is only Miss Bennet’s quick thinking that distracted her from dwelling on why we had not invited her to dinner with Hardy.”

  “Of that I have no doubt. Very well. If you must tell them anything, let it be known that I have returned to Pemberley to attend to a matter there. I do not know how long I shall be gone.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elizabeth woke up with none of the joy and calm that she had felt over the past few weeks. All she felt was sorrow—and on her own account.

  She lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. She was exasperated at herself. After all, she had always known Darcy did not consider her a suitable bride. She had never expected him to ask for her hand.

  So why had his words the day before cut to the very core of her?

  It was senseless, especially given the far more serious problem they faced.

  She rose quickly though she had nowhere to be. It was early, but she was hungry. If she had not been, she might have avoided the breakfast table, where she knew with certainty she would find Mr. Darcy. She did not wish to see him on that occasion. Not now. Not after what she had overheard.

  Her only hope was that Miss Bingley would be present at the breakfast table.

  Her wish was granted. She entered the parlour and found Miss Bingley alone at the table. She nodded a greeting, unable to muster the energy to speak.

  They ate in silence. Elizabeth was not inclined to speak and since they were alone, Miss Bingley saw no reason to bother speaking. She was still full of resentment towards Elizabeth for addressing her like a servant. Elizabeth did not mind—she would not have been able to think of a single thing to say if compelled to do so.

  It was only when they were both finished that Miss Bingley grew increasingly agitated.

  “Where is Mr. Darcy?”

  Even hearing his name sent fresh pangs of pain through Elizabeth. She had not realised the true depth of her feelings for the man. Perhaps that was a good thing. With any luck, they would find a way to resolve this matter and she could return to Longbourn far away from him.

  “I asked you a question. Have you been struck dumb?”

  No, Elizabeth thought, but I very much wish you had been. She squeezed her eyes closed, alarmed by her own sourness. How could he have had this effect on her? When she had no expectations of him and she had been reacquainted with him for a scant few weeks?

  “I do not know. I have not seen him this morning.”

  “He is never this late to breakfast.”

  Elizabeth recalled Darcy’s horrified tone the day before. Perhaps he was so alarmed by the mere suggestion that he might marry her that he had decided to avoid her altogether.

  “Perhaps he was detained.”

  “By whom?”

  “It was a suggestion. I do not know. You ought to ask your brother if you are very worried about Mr. Darcy.”

  “I am not worried. What a foolish thing to say.”

  “You give the impression of being rather worried.”

  Miss Bingley cast her a look of utter loathing. “Well why would I not be? I suspect he has gone because he has heard all about your immoral family!”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “You heard me!” Miss Bingley’s eyes had narrowed to slits and were growing redder by the second. She was so worked up she did not even bother to look around to see if anyone else had entered and witnessed her outburst. “Your family has dragged down my brother’s reputation in a way that ought to be criminal. And I have been tainted by it too. It is utterly unfair!”

  “That was a long time ago,” Elizabeth said as calmly as she could, hoping the other woman was still ignorant of their latest trouble.

  “What does that matter? Society never forgets a thing like that. You might not know that, but I certainly do. Several of my acquaintances have been rather cold ever since my brother lowered himself to marry your sister.”

  “What is the sense in ruing something that has already happened? Perhaps your friends are cold because of your continued outrage.”

  Caroline scowled. “Do you think I am so foolish that I would discuss it with them? You would not understand.”

  “Of course I understand, Miss Bingley. Every time I have gone to town since Lydia…” she stopped and took a breath. There was no sense in explaining herself to Miss Bingley yet again and she did not want to linger on the topic at the present time—it was too raw of late. “I am going to the library.”

  The door swung open and Bingley strode in.

  “Oh, Charles! Where have you been?”

  “I have been sleeping, as I tend to do most nights. Is something the matter with you, Caroline?”

  “No, not at all. Mr. Darcy has not come down for breakfast. I hope he is not ill.”

  “Why would you think he was ill?”

  Something about Bingley’s tone gave Elizabeth a very bad feeling indeed. She lingered by the door and wondered what he was about to tell them.

  Miss Bingley sighed as if the conversation was testing her patience. “Well how else do you explain his absence? For the past several weeks, Darcy has taken breakfast before nine each morning. So where is he? I can only conclude that he must be ill if he is not with you.”

  Bingley flushed and glanced at Elizabeth. The significance of it was not lost on her.

  “He has departed for Pemberley,” he stuttered.

  “Pemberley?”

  “Yes, Caroline. His estate in Derbyshire.”

  She clicked her tongue. “I know what Pemberley is, Charles. I must say I am surprised. Why would he leave without telling any of us?”

  Elizabeth watched her brother-in-law closely. Charles Bingley was not a liar, but she had seen him tell a good-natured fib now and then to save someone’s feelings. He always raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion that made it look as if he was waiting to see if he had been believed. He did the same thing now, as she saw to her horror.

  Wherever Darcy has gone, she thought sadly, he has not gone to Pemberley. That much I am sure of. I think I know exactly what has happened. I cannot believe that the mere suggestion that he might marry me could have this effect on him. How can I have failed to see his revulsion? In fact, I had thought we had formed a friendship of sorts.

  She stared at her hands, recounting all those times they had walked out together. It was unthinkable! He must have felt somehow obligated to join her even though she made no such request of him. How had she not known?

  Miss Bingley was silent for a long time too. Finally, she stood and moved towards the door. She stopped and spun around when she was halfway between the table and the door. “Did he say when he will return?”

  “No,” Bingley said without looking at either of them. “No, he did not. And it is likely he will be away for some time. Now, will you not stay for a cup of tea while I eat?”

  Miss Bingley swept from the room without another word. Under more normal circumstances, Elizabeth would have welcomed the opportunity to sit and talk with her favourite
brother-in-law, but on this occasion she could not bear to be in company for even a moment longer.

  “I must fetch a volume I promised to give to your sister,” she said, hurrying to the door before he could see the upset on her face.

  “My sister? She has not read a book in years!”

  She chided herself for coming up with such a flimsy excuse, but she did not stop or turn around. She pulled the door closed behind her and hurried down the hallway, praying she would not encounter another soul before she reached the sanctuary of her room. Mercifully, the house was quiet. She hurried up the stairs and rushed along the hallway, almost colliding with a maid on the first landing. She entered her room and collapsed gratefully on her bed.

  Even in her heightened emotional state, she could not understand why she was reacting in this way. After all, she had no reason to feel so disappointed. Darcy had not promised her anything. Nor would she want him to disadvantage himself by marrying her. That was no solution! It would not make Hardy’s threats disappear.

  That thought was a sobering one. Her family needed her more now than they ever had and it was surely not a time to wallow in misery over words she had not even been meant to hear. So what if Darcy did not wish to marry her. They had greater problems!

  No, she thought, I must calm myself and clear my mind. Darcy is gone and my sister and her husband are far too agreeable to overcome a man like Hardy. I must find a way to outsmart that awful man so those poor dear children are not left to perish. And if I must accept his proposal of marriage? She winced at the mere thought of it. Well, that is what I shall do. Of course, if that is the only resort left to me, I shall make sure that Wickham is not in a position to ever become indebted again. Then at least some good might come of my misery.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Elizabeth had set herself a far more difficult task than she had realised. She started to realise this after she had spent two whole days in the library, surrounded by all of the relevant volumes she could find. She had no experience that she could call upon, and she doubted Bingley had either. She doubted even her father had gone up against a man like Hardy.

  It did not help that this was the room Darcy and Bingley had been in when she heard those words that stung so bitterly. Her mind returned to that afternoon again and again despite her best efforts to concentrate on the task at hand. The room was a mess now. Bingley usually kept the large old desk clear apart from his writing things. Now it was spread with dusty volumes that must have been there since the time of the previous owner.

  Nothing helped. The problem with a man like Hardy was he operated outside the law so they had no hope of using it against him. He was well-connected, Darcy had said. Their only option would be to track down the children and steal them back, but then had Darcy not said that Hardy had a veritable army of ruffians willing to do his bidding?

  She buried her head in her hands. This was proving to be quite impossible. All she wanted to do was save those poor children from ruin, but she had dismissed every idea that came to her so far.

  She sat up straight and looked around. The library was neat and orderly, which made it easy to work methodically through volumes by discipline. She had already poured over every legal volume that seemed in any way relevant only to emerge with nothing of use. Her eyes stung unpleasantly from too long spent focusing on tiny, uneven text.

  She looked around. An idea had started to form in the back of her mind, but it was so preposterous that she forced herself to stop considering it. It would not go away so easily, though. She had already located a volume high up on the shelf nearest the window and she could not stop herself from reflecting that her discovery seemed almost fortuitous.

  No, she thought. To even entertain that idea would be to cross into behaviour that is almost as barbaric as Hardy himself is capable of. It does not matter that my intentions are good.

  The door opened and Bingley entered. He seemed taken aback by her presence.

  “Oh, Lizzy,” he gasped, striding over to her. “I did not realise you were still here. Have you left this room since I last saw you?”

  She forced a smile. “Do not worry about me, Charles. How is my sister?”

  “She is as comfortable as can be expected. She has asked for you many times.”

  “I am sorry,” she said, on the verge of tears so keen was her guilt. “But I will go mad unless I find a solution.”

  “But it is not your problem alone!”

  “It is not, but Jane must rest and I daresay the Collinses have not been much use.”

  He sighed. “It is proving to be an impossible situation.”

  She looked away. They had not discussed the conversation she had overheard and she had made no mention of the letter. How could she, when she would have had to explain how she came to know of it? She did not wish to embarrass him—he had more than enough worries as it was.

  “Has there been any word from Hardy?”

  “No,” he said, eyebrows shooting up just as she knew they would.

  She smiled sadly. If only all the men of the world could have been as good as Bingley.

  “Have you found a piece of law that might help us then?” he asked, gesturing to the books on the desk. There was little hope in his eyes.

  “No, I am afraid not. I have no doubt that there is some snippet somewhere that might help us, but it is lost on me. I do not have time to pour over every word in the vain hope that something useful might make itself known to me. I wish…” She stopped. She had been about to say she wished Darcy was still there with them.

  “What do you wish, my dear?”

  “Nothing.” She avoided his eyes and her gaze landed on a row of volumes directly behind him. Ledgers she had seen before. Decency had prevented her from taking them down and opening them, though she had burned with curiosity as to what they contained. She had no wish to raise the matter with him, but she could avoid it no longer. Time was passing quickly and they were running out of options. “Forgive my impertinence, Charles, and I must assure you I would never look at your ledgers without your permission.”

  He spun around and looked at the same dusty books as she was staring at. He shook his head. “It is not impertinent. You may ask me anything you wish.”

  “Well,” she said with a brittle little laugh. “I do not quite know how to put this. I wonder… Well, you have said before that you might find a way to pay Hardy in full. Is that a possibility? Perhaps you might replenish your fortune in the same way as you did before, by making wise investments and profiting accordingly.” She held up her hands, unable to even look at him anymore. “You must forgive me for speaking so candidly, but I fear I have no choice. The more time passes, the more I think about those poor children being sent into pits in the ground.”

  “Of course.” His expression was stony. “I will show you the ledgers if you like, but I am afraid it will do no good. You see…” He bowed his head. “You may have heard from Jane that I was fortunate enough to recoup some of the money I paid to Wickham by making lucky investments. Well, I am sorry to say that was an embellished account of the truth. The truth is I did not have the heart to speculate with my remaining wealth given the implications a loss might have had for my wife and children.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I could not pay him without selling everything I own, probably down to the clothes on my back.”

  She winced. “Even though he has agreed to accept a reduced sum along with—”

  “Where on earth did you hear that?”

  She had no wish to make him even more uncomfortable. “Do you not recall it was a theory we had? That we might be able to bargain him downwards?”

  Bingley spluttered and coughed. “Of course. Yes.”

  “Well,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. “Aside from any other… requirements… Hardy might have, would such a reduced figure be one that you could cover without greatly disadvantaging your family?”

  “Elizabeth I—”

>   “Please, Charles. Please. I would very much like to know what you think we are dealing with.”

  His face fell. He hesitated for just a moment before replying. “No.”

  “You could not…”

  “No. It is still too great despite the other wretched things he is asking.”

  “What if we went to my father and uncle for help?”

  He blanched. “We have all agreed that we will not do that for the sake of their health.”

  “I realise that. But we are desperate now.”

  “Yes… Yes… There is no getting away from the fact that it is still too great a sum. Longbourn is entailed as you know. There is not much… to…”

  She could not bear to see him like this any longer. “I know. It was a mere speculation on my part. After all, Hardy has not yet come back to us and told us what he wants.”

  He smiled unconvincingly and she knew then that it had been a mistake to simply ignore the threat until they heard from Hardy. It might have been a worthy course of action if Darcy had still been around. Competent, capable Darcy, who would no doubt have thought of some way of suppressing Hardy had it not been for Bingley scaring him away with the mere suggestion that he marry Elizabeth.

  She looked away and her eyes caught that volume on the shelf near the window, still protruding from when she had pulled it out in fascination and then changed her mind and pushed it back, filled with shock and revulsion at the depths her own mind had taken her.

  There was only one option left and like it or not, she would have to be the one to form a plan and put it into action.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Elizabeth Bennet was racked with guilt. More than a day had passed since she resolved to do the only thing she had left in her power to do.

  So far she had not progressed her plan past taking that volume from the shelf and forcing herself to leaf through the pages until she found what she had hoped she might find.