“And I assumed that you would not rise early for anything less than the opportunity to see Miss Bennet, so here we are.”
Bingley’s jaw muscles bunched. “Yes, well.” He began to pace back and forth across the room, almost breaking into a nervous trot. “I wish to inform you of a debacle that took place last night. I am afraid that my sister—”
“Left her rooms and spoke with Georgiana and my aunt?”
Bingley came to a sudden halt. “Yes! How did you know? I thought I had ensured that word would not leak out.”
“Georgiana told me.”
“Oh, of course.” The tension dropped from his shoulders. “Well, then you already know. Louisa said that Caroline accused both of us of being taken in by fortune hunters and expounded at great length regarding the Bennets’ flaws.”
Darcy grimaced. “At great length” implied that his aunt had not curtailed Miss Bingley’s diatribe.
Bingley raked a hand through his hair. “I am so sorry, Darcy! She seemed reconciled to her fate, so I sent the footmen guarding her door back to their original posts. I did not think she could unlock the door, nor did I expect her to do such a wretched thing.” He straightened. “But, as she is my sister and this is my home, I take full responsibility.”
Darcy hesitated. Bingley had acted unwisely, and had, as usual, expected better of Miss Bingley than anyone else would have, but he could not condemn him for being an optimist. Besides, the blame rested with Miss Bingley. “You could not have known that she would beard the lion in its den, so to speak. The fault is hers.”
“But I should have realised that nothing is beyond her.” Bingley gulped. “I am afraid that I shall have to hire someone to monitor her at all times. I wished to give Caroline her privacy, but she has so abused it that I fear she cannot be trusted with even that.”
“I believe it is wise to maintain a close watch on her,” Darcy agreed.
“I only hope it does not push her even further away,” Bingley said helplessly. “But I do not know what else to do.”
“I do not know what else you can do,” Darcy said. “She is not mad and cannot be sent to a sanatorium.” Unfortunately. Sending her to a sanatorium would have been an easy option, but not one he was willing to support for a woman in possession of her faculties. Neither would he support violence against her. “Nor can you exile her farther than a relative’s house unless you wish to excite the very suspicion we have worked so hard to avoid.” Darcy sighed. “We can only hope that she will see the error of her ways.”
“My Aunt Elaine will keep a close eye on her,” Bingley said, his voice tinged with desperation as though he were trying to convince himself more than Darcy. “And if I hire a companion—they will keep her safe from herself, won’t they? Besides, once we are married to the Bennets, she will have no further impetus to behave as she has been. She is desperate to keep us from marrying into that family.”
Darcy shifted uncomfortably. Miss Bingley seemed desperate to ensure he would marry her—something that sounded a bit too arrogant to say out loud. But yes, theoretically, if he was out of reach and Bingley married to Miss Bennet, she might subside back into civility. After all, apart from her schemes to separate them from the Bennets, both Before and now, her previous machinations had been confined to an oversweet attempt at charm and deference to get her way.
“I hope so,” he said.
Bingley put his head in his hands. “I just—I do not understand how she can behave so poorly. I am certain that she knows better.”
Darcy considered. Just as he and Georgiana had discussed that very morning, knowing what proper behaviour consisted of and doing it were two very different things. Miss Bingley had always seemed to dance the line of propriety—crossing it when it suited her and adhering to it only when it was to her benefit.
“Louisa said that your aunt appeared interested in Caroline’s words, but, after some time, gave her a thorough set-down. I only hope that she does not believe half of what Caroline said,” Bingley concluded mournfully.
Lady Matlock had given Miss Bingley a set-down? Perhaps there was hope yet.
“I suppose we shall just have to meet whatever happens when it comes,” Darcy said.
“I have instructed the servants to ready a carriage for Caroline. I think it will be better to send her today so that she cannot cause more trouble. My men will take an extra day on the road; then she will not arrive before Aunt Elaine specified.”
“I believe that is wise.” The sooner Miss Bingley was removed from Netherfield, the better, in his opinion. He was half-tempted to give her a lecture of his own but feared that it might, like his first attempt, push her further down the path of pride and selfish disdain. He could not endure the thought of effecting such a change, even in Miss Bingley, especially as he was intimately aware of the consequences of continuing along that path.
“I hope she will not be difficult,” Bingley said, frowning. “She has already unpacked her belongings several times over the past two days, and, every time I have spoken to her, she declares that she will not go. Even last night when I informed her that she would be leaving this morning, she positively shrieked at me. I am surprised the whole house did not hear it—”
A knock sounded, and upon being bade entrance, a footman opened the door. “Miss Bingley requested I notify you that she is ready to depart, sir, and desires your escort to her carriage,” he said to Bingley.
Bingley gaped at the man. “She—she is ready to depart?”
The footman nodded.
Bingley exchanged a look with Darcy. “Well, then, I suppose I shall escort her to her carriage,” he said in bewildered tones.
“Very good, sir,” the footman said and, with a bow, left.
Darcy’s brow furrowed. Was this some sort of last-minute ploy on Miss Bingley’s part? She pretended willingness in hopes of changing Bingley’s mind? Though it was hardly his place, he determined to see Miss Bingley off as well, just in case the woman had something up her sleeve.
“I believe I will accompany you, if you have no objections.”
“Not at all,” Bingley said, shifting restlessly. “Do you think she has another scheme? I would wish that such behaviour indicated a change of heart, but, after her actions of the past few days, such an explanation seems unlikely.”
“I do not know, but perhaps we should be on our guard.”
Bingley nodded, and the two men silently made their way to Miss Bingley’s room. When they reached it, Miss Bingley was dressed in travelling clothes and waiting; her shoulders drooped and her gaze was fixed on the floor. Studying her face, Darcy noted that her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy as though she had engaged in a bout of weeping or spent a sleepless night.
Without a word, she took Bingley’s arm and walked with him down the hall. She did not even acknowledge Darcy through word or look, something that had Darcy on edge the whole way—Miss Bingley had proven her determination to catch him even in the face of his obvious love for Elizabeth. Why would she give up now?
When they reached the carriage, Miss Bingley clung to Bingley’s arm for a moment. “You will write, won’t you, Charles?” she begged hoarsely.
“Of course, if you wish me to, Caroline.”
“I do.”
A frown crossed Bingley’s face, but he handed her up into the carriage. “I wish you well, Caroline.”
“And I you, Charles,” she replied quietly.
Darcy, standing a short distance away could not make heads nor tails of her plan. She almost seemed—chastened. What did she hope to accomplish? Did she intend to convince Bingley to bring her back before the year was up? But she must know, as he did, that letters were far easier for Bingley to ignore than in-person requests.
Bingley shook himself and called for the coachman to drive on. Miss Bingley never looked up, but Darcy thought he caught the sparkle of a tear coursing down her face.
What in Heaven’s name had occurred?
Bingley half-stumbled over to Darcy. “I am not asleep,
am I?” he asked plaintively.
“Not unless I am as well, and we are sharing the same dream.”
“I did not imagine that Caroline seemed almost remorseful, did I?”
Darcy shook his head.
“Do you think she is trying to placate me, or to catch me off guard?”
“Perhaps.” Darcy’s frown deepened. “But I cannot see how, unless she intends to convince you to lessen her sentence.”
Bingley shook his head as though trying to dislodge the confusion from his mind. “Neither can I.” He straightened. “Well, if she intends to change my mind, she won’t succeed; I said a year, and I mean to wait a year, even if she were to change tomorrow.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What could have caused such an alteration?”
Darcy pondered the matter. He had not been able to reach Miss Bingley, but perhaps one whose good opinion she truly valued . . . . What exactly had his aunt said to her? “Did Mrs. Hurst give you further details on my aunt’s set-down?”
Bingley shook his head. “No, only that it was truly ruthless and masterfully done.” He paused. “She did say that Caroline looked cut to the quick, but I assumed that was merely another ruse.”
“Perhaps.” Darcy hoped that Miss Bingley’s feet were finally set on the path of reformation, but he had learned not to take any of her words or actions at face value, and so he would not await such a change. Regardless, her final hours at Netherfield had caused great trouble for him. It was imperative that he speak with his aunt and discover just how much harder his courtship with Elizabeth had become.
Chapter 51
Breakfast was a stilted affair. Lord Matlock had joined Darcy, Bingley, Georgiana, and Fitzwilliam every morning, but Lady Matlock typically took breakfast in her rooms as did the Hursts. This morning, however, she had descended to the breakfast room and appeared to be waiting for Darcy. Fitzwilliam was absent, whether he was late, had gone to speak to Colonel Forster, or was hiding from some dreadful scene to come, Darcy did not know. A light conversation regarding the members of the ton was held, his aunt filling him in on all the latest on-dits, thus ensuring that Bingley had nothing to contribute, but the heavy tension permeating the meal left Darcy feeling off-balance. He wished she had masked whatever her feelings were with silence rather than this chatter.
The moment they had finished eating, she speared Darcy with a look. “Fitzwilliam, I would like to speak to you privately this morning,” she said firmly.
Darcy acquiesced, knowing that her use of his Christian name indicated her displeasure and that she would not be best pleased were he to put her off. Both Bingley and Georgiana sent him nervous glances; he squeezed Georgiana’s hand under the table and tried to smile at Bingley. His aunt could be a reasonable woman—they would be fine. He hoped. “May we use the library, Bingley?”
Bingley nodded with a sickly attempt at a smile, and Darcy excused himself, offering his arm to his aunt.
Without a word, Lord Matlock accompanied them.
“Rupert, there is no need to trouble yourself,” Lady Matlock protested.
“It is no trouble.”
Lady Matlock grimaced but did not disagree. Darcy had observed that, though his uncle often deferred to his aunt’s preferences, when Lord Matlock decided something, all the convincing in the world was useless.
As he was ushering them into the library, a breathless Fitzwilliam strode up, Georgiana clinging to his arm, and clapped Darcy on the shoulder. “Sorry, old man, didn’t get the word on the family meeting until just now.”
Warm affection flooded Darcy’s stomach. He was reminded of the various times they had supported each other as children, standing against Lady Matlock’s rebukes. Of course, they had probably deserved them at the time, having been in one scrape or another, but he was grateful that his cousin had chosen to support him now.
His eyes sought his sister’s gaze. She straightened and stepped towards him, her eyes flicking between Lady Matlock and him as she clasped her trembling hands in front of her. “I wish to accompany you.”
Darcy squeezed her hand and inclined his head, grateful for his sister’s determination to support him.
Lady Matlock pursed her lips. “You are certainly not necessary, Richard, Georgiana. I wish to speak to Darcy alone.”
Fitzwilliam crossed his arms. “I thought we were having a family meeting,” he said lightly. “We are still part of the family as far as I know.” He turned to his father. “You have not yet disowned me, have you, Father?”
Lord Matlock chuckled. “Tempting as it is, you scamp, no, I have not.”
Lady Matlock huffed. “This does not concern you.”
“Mother, if you intend to berate Darcy for not telling you the full details regarding Wickham, then it certainly does concern me. If you recall, I am the one who informed you of the events.”
Lady Matlock grimaced, but did not reply. “Georgiana, this is not a fit conversation for young ladies.”
“I wish to stay, Aunt. My brother’s choice of wife concerns me very much.”
“I do not believe—”
“She may stay,” Darcy said in steel-encased tones as he moved to close the library door.
Lady Matlock froze, her eyes flicking heavenward as thought praying for strength, then she turned a gimlet gaze on Darcy. “Now, Nephew, you are going to tell me precisely how the Bennets were mixed up in this business and why in Heaven’s name you believe allying the Fitzwilliam name with such riff-raff is a good idea.”
Darcy settled Georgiana in a chair, then straightened, his hands clasped behind his back. “I assume Miss Bingley told you that Miss Lydia was the young woman whom Wickham kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped? Or did she run off with him?” Lady Matlock demanded. “I warn you, Darcy, I will have no inferior blood introduced into the Fitzwilliam family, whatever the woman’s virtues may be. If the sister behaved so poorly, I doubt Miss Elizabeth will be any—”
Darcy took a step towards her, his hands falling to his sides. “I will thank you, Madam, not to speak ill of Miss Elizabeth.”
Lady Matlock drew back before her chin came up. “I see now why Miss Bingley believes you in thrall to this—person!”
Lord Matlock stepped in between them. “Now, Lottie, you cannot expect the boy not to poker up when you say such things about the girl he thinks he’s in love with.” He looked over at Darcy. “I know you care, but losing your temper is hardly going to convince your aunt of anything, except that you’ve lost the ability to be rational.”
Darcy took a deep breath. His uncle was right. He could not abide anyone disparaging Elizabeth, but it was imperative that he keep his temper. He gave a half bow to his aunt. “I apologise.”
“As do I,” she replied stiffly.
“Now, why don’t we sit down, and one of you boys can explain how the Bennets are involved with Mr. Wickham,” Lord Matlock suggested.
Fitzwilliam drew four more chairs into a circle that included Georgiana and they sat, Darcy perching on the chair between his cousin and Georgiana.
“It is correct that Miss Lydia did intend to elope with Wickham. What I am sure Miss Bingley failed to mention was that she herself paid Wickham to ruin the Bennets.”
Lord Matlock frowned heavily, and Lady Matlock’s eyes widened.
“In addition, Miss Lydia attempted to run away from Wickham, but the—he was able to recapture her and held her captive.”
Lord Matlock’s frown deepened. “Is the lass well?”
“Well enough.” Darcy sighed. “I do not believe her family knows how to help her, nor do I.”
“Other than a good thrashing—” Fitzwilliam began, then quailed under the three glares he was receiving. He held up his hands. “I am not saying that she is wicked, just high-spirited and spoiled. Much like some other women we all know,” he said pointedly.
Lady Matlock folded her hands in her lap. “They, however, know better than to elope with a penniless soldier.”
“Some of them,” Darcy sai
d. “But so many things are hushed up, who is to say that such an occurrence has never happened among the ton?”
“I would expect more from your,” her mouth tightened, and her nose wrinkled as though a skunk had just entered the room, “chosen bride’s family.”
Fitzwilliam leaned forward. “Mother, the ton is not known for its discretion nor for its angelic behaviour. Darcy is correct that much bad behaviour is hushed up or tolerated as the foibles of the very rich.”
“Still, to attempt an elopement—it is not to be borne.”
“I—” Georgiana began in tremulous tones, then took a deep breath. “Will you disown me as well for my attempted elopement?”
Lady Matlock reached over and patted Georgiana’s hands where they lay tightly clasped in her lap. “Thank Heavens that you came to your senses, child, and have, I hope, learned your lesson,” she finished pointedly.
“I have,” Georgiana stated. “But Miss Lydia came to her senses as well, Aunt. How can you require behaviour from Miss Lydia and excuse it in my case?” Though she trembled, Georgiana held her aunt’s gaze. “You cannot argue that it was different because I nearly eloped with the same man.”
Lady Matlock frowned. “But you have learned your lesson, and you knew better. Your better blood won out. Miss Lydia,” she shook her head as though dismissing the matter, “You shall have to break off the courtship,” she said to Darcy
Darcy stared at his aunt. Had she heard nothing he and Georgiana had said? “I am of age,” Darcy said. “I shall do no such thing. We are well-suited in temperament and in what we desire out of life. I could not have found a better match in all of England. Not to mention that I love Miss Elizabeth, and she loves me.”
Lady Matlock softened. “Darcy, I know that you believe yourself in love, and, had she been from a good family, I would have supported your marriage. Indeed, I would have brought her to your attention myself if she was a member of the ton. She is a lovely young woman, but you cannot marry into such a family. You will have to look elsewhere.”
“You would suggest I marry a foreigner?” Darcy asked, unsure if he was understanding his aunt correctly. She had always held that foreigners were nice enough, but that their underlying barbarism would never be removed.
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 55