“Oh, leave him be,” her brother said. “You know there is nothing more awful than Darcy on a Sunday with nothing to do.”
“So I have heard,” Darcy said dryly, “on many occasions.” But his mind was too full of Elizabeth to invent a clever excuse, so he limited himself to a correct bow and departed. Miss Bingley would fuss at Georgiana and Mr. Bingley, but he could wait no longer. He headed to his study and closed the door.
He sank into the leather chair that had been his father’s before him and carefully laid the envelope on his desk. He ran his finger over the letters of his name. Now that he was alone, part of him did not want to discover what was in the letter. It was hard to imagine it being anything pleasant after their last meeting, but Elizabeth was not the sort to berate him in a letter. Besides, what could she say to him that was worse than what he had already said to himself?
With a sharp movement he broke the seal and unfolded it, smoothing the parchment with his hands. It was dated the morning of Elizabeth’s departure.
Dear Sir,
It is ironic, is it not, that having refusing to read an illicit missive from you months ago, I now find myself in the position of resorting to the same tool and hoping that you will retain enough respect for me to read this, rather than consigning it to the fire as I did. I will be well served if you refuse, though; it is no more than I deserve, but this is the only means available for me to communicate to you my most sincere apologies for my past follies. I can give no explanation for my gullibility and ready belief in Mr. Wickham’s tales when in truth I had no reason whatsoever to take his word over yours, apart from a misplaced faith in my own cleverness. It was inexcusable for me to abuse you to your face with his lies. You may rest assured that I will take this lesson in my own fallibility to heart.
I had intended to tell you this later today, but it was not meant to be. This morning I received letters from my sister with an urgent request for me to return home as soon as possible. I will not trouble you with the dreadful nature of the intelligence the letters bore except to say that it bears witness to the truth of many things you said to which I refused to listen. It will be some time, if ever, before my family recovers from the setback it currently faces, for which I must claim my own not insignificant part of responsibility. Under the circumstances, I doubt we will meet again, which is why I have taken the liberty of writing this letter.
My deepest regrets in this matter are for the way in which I unwittingly upset Miss Darcy yesterday. I was wrong in every way, and she paid the price. I can only hope that, being young, she will recover quickly, but I wish I could do something to remedy my error. Since I cannot, I hope you will share with her any part of the truth that you feel might help, including how foolish I have been.
I am grateful to have had the opportunity to see Pemberley. It is indeed a delightful place, and I wish you much happiness there and elsewhere.
E. Bennet
Darcy read the letter, then, in disbelief, he read it through again. What on earth could Elizabeth feel she needed to apologize for, to apologize to him of all people? He was the guilty party. But even beyond that, he was horrified by the degree of distress that came through her words. What could have happened at Longbourn to cause such unhappiness? This must have been why she was crying in the coach. It was nothing to do with him at all. He was swept with a simultaneous wave of relief and a fierce desire to rescue Elizabeth from whatever trouble she faced. He looked back at her words, searching for any hint as to what had occurred, but could see nothing. What had he said that she had refused to listen to, and how could it relate to whatever was happening at Longbourn? Why did she bear responsibility for it? He stared at the letter as if by force of will he could make more words appear on it.
He would not have believed that lively, spirited Elizabeth Bennet was capable of this degree of self-castigation. There was a darkened spot on the paper as well - could it have been a tear? He stroked it lightly with his finger, as if he could somehow offer her comfort thus.
But now she did not expect them to meet again. Did that mean she had no desire to see him? He suspected it did. He had ruined his last chance with her. He looked again at the words she had written. Was this all he would ever have of her? It could not be, but he did not know what to do about it. Why had he not ridden after her coach? He tried to imagine what bad news she might have received. She would have told him about an illness or a death, leaving financial reversals and scandal. Elizabeth had never seemed to value wealth. If she had, she would have accepted his proposal in Hunsford without a second thought. Scandal was more likely, but it would take something quite severe to cause this response.
One thing was for certain. He must do something to relieve her suffering. The question was what he could do.
CHAPTER 7
Darcy leaned over the billiard table and took a shot. The ball missed the pocket by a good inch, but that was hardly surprising. His mind was not on the game, but on the company. This was his first chance to speak alone with Bingley since receiving Elizabeth’s letter. Chalking his cue, he said casually, “Bingley, do you ever think of Jane Bennet?”
Bingley’s customary smile faded. “Of course I do. I am not as fickle as that, you know.”
“I was not suggesting you were fickle,” Darcy said calmly. “However, even the most violent love can fade with time.”
“You have never been in love, then.” Bingley walked around the table, looking at it from various angles, setting up his shot.
Darcy thought darkly that he knew too much of love, but a heart-to-heart discussion was not his plan for the day. “It seems the Bennet family is facing some sort of difficulty.”
Bingley straightened, his brows coming together. “What do you mean?”
Darcy chose his words with care. “I have been given to understand that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was in great distress the morning she left. She had earlier received a letter, and something was said about trouble at home and that they might never recover.” Darcy did not want to take the risk of mentioning the letter from Elizabeth; it would be far too difficult to explain.
“Is something the matter with Jane?”
“I know nothing more.” He attempted to sound disinterested, as if this were not something which had been haunting him. “I did learn one thing from Miss Elizabeth, though. Apparently I was mistaken in thinking Miss Bennet indifferent to you. Miss Elizabeth says her sister’s attachment to you was quite strong, but little displayed. It seems she has not been in her usual spirits since you left Netherfield.”
The colour left Bingley’s face. “Jane cares for me? But she made no effort to show it. Caroline never even received a response to her letter. I do not believe it.”
He would have to tell him the truth, mortifying as it might be. “In fact, your sister did receive a response, more than one. Miss Bennet came to London last winter and called upon your sisters there. Caroline even returned her call some weeks later.”
Bingley’s shot went wild. “What? That cannot be true.”
“It is true,” Darcy said steadily.
“How do you know this?”
Darcy heaved a sigh. “Caroline confided in me because she knew I opposed the match as well. Mistakenly, I might add.”
“And you did not tell me? Do you value my judgment so little?” Bingley’s knuckles were white where he gripped the side of the billiard table.
“Bingley, I am telling you this now because I realize I was wrong. I should have told you then.” Darcy wondered if their friendship would survive this revelation. Perhaps it depended on what had happened at Longbourn. If the crisis were indeed serious, he did not know that he could forgive himself. In Bingley’s shoes, he would be livid.
“You…. I cannot believe you did this to me! You knew how much I cared for her!”
Darcy said nothing, only met his friend’s furious eyes.
“And why are you telling me this now?”
Darcy was half-tempted to tell him the truth, that he was
revealing this out of his own selfish desire to discover what was happening at Longbourn. He could not go quite that far. “Hearing this news brought it to my mind, and made me realize how much pain I may have caused.”
“You say that so calmly, as if it is of no matter!”
His control cracked. “It matters. I understand perfectly if you cannot forgive me. You would be quite justified.”
“I… oh, devil take it, Darcy, that is not what I meant. You know that. It is just that I cannot bear to think of my Jane in distress over me. But this is my fault. I should never have left her, never have listened to you and my sisters. She must hate me for abandoning her.” He shook his head as if trying to assimilate this new knowledge. “She truly cared?”
“Apparently so, if we are to believe in Miss Elizabeth’s knowledge of her sister, and I cannot think why she would fabricate such a story.” At least Bingley had not asked him how in the world he had come to speak with Elizabeth about such personal matters. It was fortunate for him that Bingley was such a trusting soul.
“I must find out what the problem is. I cannot leave Jane to face difficulties by herself. Perhaps there is something I could do to help.”
It was what Darcy had wished to hear, but he would not tell Bingley that. If Bingley chose to go back to Jane Bennet, it would have to be his own decision. Darcy could not trust himself to advise his friend. He had done such a poor job of it in the past. He wanted the information Bingley could gather, but did not want to take advantage of him.
“I could go back to Netherfield,” Bingley continued. “I still hold the lease, and nothing could be more natural than for me to go there. It should be easy enough to find out what the matter is - someone is always willing to talk about the misfortunes of others. But are you sure that she cares about me?”
“I am certain that Miss Elizabeth believes she does, and I think it is unlikely she would be wrong about her sister’s sentiments.” Darcy wondered how many times he would have to repeat himself on this subject.
“Then I will go to her. I will tell my man to have my bags packed and ready to leave in the morning.”
“Your sisters may require longer than that to ready themselves to depart.”
“I doubt they will want to come. Caroline hates Netherfield. She only tolerated it because you were there.
And she loves being at Pemberley. Can they not remain here? I know it is a burden, but you need not talk to them much if you do not wish.”
“They may stay here as long as they choose. It is not a burden at all,” Darcy protested automatically, knowing Bingley would not believe him. But Bingley seemed to require another hint. “But you cannot go there by yourself. It would look odd.”
Bingley raked his hand through his hair, leaving it standing half on end. “What do I care how it looks?”
“You might not care, but Miss Bennet might take it amiss if you appear out of the blue without family or retinue. You will not help her by adding to gossip.”
“She will…. No, you are right, Darcy. I will have to persuade at least Caroline to go with me. Perhaps you could accompany me. Then Caroline will be eager to go.”
The idea tempted Darcy more than he cared to admit. He could see Elizabeth, breathe her perfume, and find out for himself what had caused her precipitate departure. But she would not thank him for appearing; that was clear from her letter. It would be wiser to wait until he knew the situation, and then he could decide on his approach. He refused to think about what it would mean if she still wanted to have nothing to do with him.
Surreptitiously he touched the pocket where her letter was hidden. He had not been able to bring himself to leave it in the study.
But first he must keep Bingley from making a bad situation worse. “Would it not be simpler to plan it ahead? I know you are anxious to ride to Miss Bennet’s rescue, but the sensible thing is to wait.”
“I cannot wait if Jane may be suffering!”
“It need not be long. You could begin preparations immediately.” Darcy only wished he could make an excuse to go with Bingley. “Will you inform me of what you find?”
“Of course,” Bingley said distractedly.
“I will do my best to convince your sisters that a return to Netherfield would be agreeable, though they will still oppose any alliance with Miss Bennet.”
Bingley scowled. “No doubt they will, but I was fool enough to listen to them last time about Jane Bennet.
I will not make that mistake again, you may be sure of it.”
Darcy thought privately that they had both been fools. The image of Elizabeth weeping in the carriage came before him, and he swallowed his longing to fly to her side. This must be done properly if he was to have any chance at all. He took aim at another ball, trying to pretend he cared at all where it might go.
“Darcy.” Bingley’s voice held an unusual harshness that made Darcy straighten slowly and look at his friend.
“Yes?” he said evenly.
“What else are you hiding from me?”
“About Jane Bennet? Nothing.” At least he could say that much honestly.
“Then how do you come to know such a remarkable amount about Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s affairs? And for God’s sake, tell me the truth this time!”
Darcy stood stock still for a moment. “If you insist,” he said slowly. “But it is a very long story, and not a happy one.”
***
By the next day, Darcy was re-thinking his advice that Bingley should wait. Patience was not in his friend’s personality. He was accustomed to following his whims no matter where they led him, and often enough they had led him into trouble from which Darcy had been forced to extricate him. Now Bingley paced the halls of Pemberley like the proverbial caged tiger.
His sisters had formed a silent conspiracy against him. Miss Bingley said, “I cannot believe you wish to return to that godforsaken place, Charles. There is nothing there for you.”
Bingley glared at her. “This is my decision, Caroline, and if I choose to go to Netherfield, I shall go to Netherfield. You may either join me or find somewhere else to live.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed, but she managed an ingratiating smile. “You do not mean that. Of course I will go wherever you go, but I question the wisdom of this plan. Mr. Darcy, tell him what a foolish idea this is.”
Darcy’s lips thinned. “I was the one who suggested it to him. He has leased the estate, and he might as well have use of it. The hunting there is excellent.”
“Does that mean you will be joining us there?” Caroline asked with a servile smile.
“No, it does not.” Darcy did not leave any room in his manner for debate. “I will be travelling to Rosings to visit Lady Catherine. Georgiana will be accompanying me.” It was the one place he was sure Miss Bingley would not try to follow him.
Beside him Georgiana gasped, her face pale. He should have warned her of this, given how much she hated going to Rosings. He would make sure it would be a short visit, but there was no reason to tell Miss Bingley that.
Georgiana plucked at his sleeve timidly. She whispered, “Could I not go to Mr. Bingley’s country house instead? I have always wished to see it.”
Were he not keeping a stern countenance for Bingley’s sake, Darcy would have smiled at the weak excuse.
“Would you prefer that, then? I am sure Miss Bingley would invite you.” It might reduce her opposition to her brother’s plans if she thought she were pleasing Darcy by doing it. At his sister’s nod, Darcy raised his voice.
“Georgiana tells me she has always longed to see Hertfordshire.”
Miss Bingley’s face lit up at the opportunity. “Would you like to join us there, Georgiana? If it is agreeable to your brother, that is. He may have other plans for you.”
“No, not at all,” Darcy said smoothly. “If you would enjoy her company, she is more than welcome to join you. I know I need have no worries if she is in your capable hands.” He would no doubt pay for that bit of flattery when Mi
ss Bingley redoubled her efforts to attract his attention, but if it brought her into compliance with her brother’s wish to go to Netherfield, it was well worth it. He would sacrifice far more for Elizabeth’s sake.
He would speak to Georgiana later. Perhaps there would be a chance for her to spend time with Elizabeth.
It would be good for both of them.
***
If only she had read his letter. If only she had read it. The refrain repeated itself inside Elizabeth’s head until she wished she could tear the thought out and free herself from it. If she had read Mr. Darcy’s letter in Hunsford, she would have known Wickham to be a scoundrel and not to be trusted. She could have warned her family against him. Her father would never have allowed Lydia to go to Brighton if he had known she would be in company with such a man. The means to save her family had been right in her hand, and she had burnt it unopened.
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