‘The stability of a home with you at Netherfield must be preferable for the younger girls, and being cooped up together in a town house in London is unlikely to satisfy any of the family. In Hertfordshire there are ample opportunities to partake of the country pursuits. Would not the size of the property secure Miss Bingley some solitude?’
Bingley threw his friend a keen glance. ‘Caroline could allocate a part of the house to the twins and keep to as many other rooms as she wished, you mean?’
Precisely. Darcy shook his head. ‘Not at all.’
Bingley sat up slowly in his seat. ‘I do not know if it will answer, but it does offer a more palatable solution than we have at present. Besides, I do wonder...’ he met Darcy’s gaze. ‘I do think I ought to pay a visit... to Netherfield.’ He fixed his friend with a determined stare. ‘I can avoid it no longer; I must speak of it. You recall the Bennet family and my tendresse for the eldest daughter?’
Tension began to seep into Darcy’s shoulders, but he refused to pay it any mind, waiting for Bingley to continue.
‘Well, then. I will own I fear bringing unease upon the lady. You said Miss Bennet was indifferent to me. My removing myself from the neighbourhood must have brought considerable relief. If I now return, will she fear I might renew my attentions?’
Darcy stirred in his seat again. ‘You assume she remains at home. It is nigh on two years since your brief sojourn in Hertfordshire. The lady may well have found an establishment.’
Bingley slumped back in his seat, his skin paling. Was it as Darcy had feared? Did his friend remain affected, even after all this time?
Yet he, Darcy, had recovered from his foolish admiration for the lady’s sister, had he not, and had sworn to think on her no more? Thus, the sooner his friend made a decision, the better for all.
‘Then shall we not go directly?’
Bingley looked startled. ‘Now? This very day?’
‘Why ever not?’ Darcy glanced at the clock on the mantel. ‘It is a ride of but a few hours and the weather holds fair. We could stay overnight, assess the estate on the morrow, and be gone from the neighbourhood within four and twenty hours. If you are at leisure?’
Bingley got to his feet. ‘I am at leisure all too often, my friend, all too often!’
Returning to Hertfordshire had never been part of Darcy’s expectation but he got to his feet determined. The sooner the visit was paid, the better, and what finer evidence was there to prove his distance this past year had been the effective cure for putting the past firmly where it belonged?
Chapter Four
Shepherding Bingley into action took longer than Darcy had foreseen, and they had barely reached Hertfordshire before dusk fell. They passed what remained of the evening in a small sitting room, having been served a hastily prepared dish of soup by one of two custodian servants, their conversation touching on many things pertaining to the house and the twins, but never on the family who lived but three miles across the parkland.
The following morning dawned clear and bright, and Darcy took the opportunity to walk out into the grounds. The air was fresh and the prospect pleasing as he approached the area of woodland forming the boundary between the park and the lane as it wound its way towards Meryton.
Reaching the far wall, Darcy leaned on the stone stile and stared thoughtfully into the distance. The spectre of Elizabeth hovered in the air, taunting and tantalising – out of reach yet ever present. He had not anticipated it here at Netherfield, and though he did not welcome it, he had no power to expunge it. He stood even now at the very spot where he had met her on the morning she sought news of her sister’s health, and she appeared before him as clearly as though it were yesterday.
Darcy released a frustrated breath. ‘Be gone,’ he muttered, turning away from the boundary wall. He needed to concentrate on their reason for being there, and to ensure their departure today was timely.
He walked back across the parkland, his eye now fixed upon the house. It had a pleasing aspect and was in excellent condition for a property leased out since it had been built but five and twenty years ago. Should Bingley retain it, purchase it, even, and make a much-needed home for himself and his younger sisters, or should he give it up?
This morning would perhaps bring a solution. They had agreed to ride out and tour the park and the remainder of the estate and, determined to hasten a decision so he could remove himself swiftly from the memories curling around him like ever thickening wisps of smoke, Darcy picked up his pace and returned to the house.
~o0o~
Some hours later, Darcy and Bingley turned their mounts away from the furthest boundary of the estate and began to ride back towards the house. Their tour of the land had been somewhat circuitous, with any foray in the direction of the Bennets’ home neatly avoided.
Yet, as they made their way along the lane and neared Netherfield once more, Darcy realised they were perilously close to Longbourn.
‘I say, Darcy,’ Bingley hailed his friend as they reached a junction in the road which would determine their course.
Darcy turned in the saddle. ‘You wish to make a call.’
Bingley would attribute the disinclination in his voice to an entirely inaccurate cause, but it suited his purpose. His reluctance to truly test his mettle in Elizabeth’s company was his concern alone — should she even remain at home.
Bingley drew his mount to a halt next to Darcy. ‘You will not accompany me. I understand. Yet I wish to call and pay my respects. When I went away in the year eleven, I took no proper leave of the family. I do not intend to make Miss Bennet-’ he hesitated. ‘Should Miss Bennet remain at home, I have no desire to make her uncomfortable, but I do feel duty – and honour – bound to do what I could not back then.’
Darcy shifted in his saddle. ‘As you wish. You may have my support if you so desire, but if you would prefer to attend alone…’ he hesitated. ‘I was never well received by any of the family.’
Bingley threw him an unreadable glance. ‘I think it was fairly reciprocal, old man.’
Darcy acknowledged the hit. ‘Then if you will excuse me, I shall continue on to Netherfield and await your return.’
With a touch of his hat, Bingley turned his mount, branched left at the junction and set off at a canter towards the gates to Longbourn.
For a moment, Darcy watched his friend. Why this sudden and irrational urge to follow him? With a tug at the reins, he turned his mount to the right. This was no time for self-indulgence. Staying away would clearly answer for Elizabeth and her family having an easier time of it during Bingley’s visit. His friend had the right of it; he, Darcy, had displayed no inclination for the company of the family in the past, and they none for his, and the sentiment was unlikely to have undergone any alteration in his absence.
~o0o~
Darcy returned to the house quite out of countenance but reluctant to own it. No resurgence of memories would be permitted to undermine the newly-found peace he had acquired. Yet he could feel himself weakening and was gaining a devil of an ache in his brow from attempting to prevent it. The sooner Bingley returned and they headed back to Town the better. Any qualms he suffered over what news his friend might bring of Elizabeth and her present marital status he rigidly silenced. What was it to him anyway?
Barely had he set foot in the entrance hall, having returned to the house through the boot room, when he came face to face with a middle-aged woman who let out a shriek.
‘Oh, my dear sir! Such a fright you did give me!’
‘Forgive me, madam.’ It was Bingley’s former housekeeper, and Darcy racked his memory for a name. He could not recall exchanging a single word with her during his earlier stay – he had left such pleasures to his friend and his sisters.
‘Mr Bingley wished to visit the house for a brief period. We will be returning to Town directly, and thus he felt no need to recall the household servants.’
The woman before him looked disapproving. ‘All the same, sir, I would hav
e appreciated the opportunity to ensure the provision of adequate meals and a warm fireplace by which to sit. The house is cold from lack of use.’
Could she not leave him in peace to indulge his aching head? ‘Perhaps you could address your concerns to Mr Bingley on his return from Longbourn.’
The woman paled visibly, a hand shooting to her throat. ‘Oh dear! Oh dear me!’
Darcy was intrigued despite himself. ‘What is it? What ails you – here, perhaps you should be seated.’
He waved the housekeeper onto a nearby settle, and she all but fell onto it.
‘Oh, Mr Darcy, sir!’ Clearly, she had a better recall of names than he. ‘This is no way for the master to find out.’
An icy hand took hold of Darcy. ‘Find out what, madam?’
~o0o~
The housekeeper left to prepare some tea, and Darcy removed to the library but barely had he raised a hand to open the shutters when Bingley came rushing through the door. His face was flushed, and he walked rapidly over to where Darcy stood near one of the full-length windows, his air and countenance a mixture of confusion and sadness.
‘They are gone, Darcy! The Bennets reside no longer at Longbourn!’
‘Yes – yes, so I understand.’
‘You know of it? How could—’
‘Your former housekeeper was here.’
Bingley sank into a nearby chair. ‘Mrs Preston was here?’
Preston! Yes, that was her name, damn it. ‘She heard from the retained servants of your return and came to check upon it.’
‘She was a good soul, was she not? So – tell me; what intelligence did she bring?’
Darcy fastened the shutters in place before turning to his friend, attempting nonchalance to mask his own concern. ‘I cannot answer. Your housekeeper told me only what you have yourself discovered, and then she took herself off to prepare some tea, seeming desirous of awaiting your return.’
A sharp rap came upon the door, which opened to reveal Mrs Preston bearing a hastily prepared tray.
‘There you are, sir!’ she exclaimed to Bingley as she came into the room. ‘Tis a chill wind blowing out there today, despite the sun; you must partake of some nourishment.’
‘Mrs Preston, good day to you.’ Bingley got to his feet. ‘You are too kind.’
‘Not at all, sir. I only wish I had been forewarned of your visit, but I understand from Mr Darcy you intended only to remain the one night.’
‘Yes, we must return today,’ Bingley nodded emphatically, and Darcy took the offered cup from the lady and walked over to stand by one of the tall windows. ‘But before we depart, Mrs Preston, I would be grateful for some understanding of what led the Bennet family to move away from Longbourn?’
The housekeeper’s countenance hardened. ‘Of course, sir. I will share all I know – though ‘tis little enough and no more or less than anyone in the district could tell.’
Bingley returned to his own seat, his cup in hand. ‘Do go on, Mrs Preston. As a former neighbour and acquaintance, I am anxious to understand what has happened.’
‘Well now, sir, ‘twas back in the late summer of last year – one of the daughters ran off, eloped with a Militia man. Whether a marriage took place, no one seemed certain but the suspicion of it not being so was sufficient to bring disgrace upon the family, who were universally shunned.’
A tremor shot through Darcy as she proceeded to express her opinion on women of loose morals and parents who encouraged them. He had gone quite cold and turned quickly to stare out of the window. Elopement and the name of one he associated with it, a man whom he knew to belong to the Militia billeted in Meryton at the time, were sufficient for a wealth of emotions to flood his senses, and there was nothing he could do to stem the flow.
Was this too much of a coincidence? Could it have been Wickham? But surely Elizabeth would never consent to an elopement, to cast off all her friends and, moreover, her family? Yet had he not feared the worst, of her being quite taken in by the scoundrel, her affections engaged, even? Had she not championed him during their one and only dance at the Netherfield ball and then – later – so fiercely when rejecting him? He had to know, he must know.
Turning swiftly, he could see Mrs Preston topping up Bingley’s cup as though she had been talking of things as mundane as the weather. His friend was staring at her as though in a trance, but Darcy strode across the room clear in his purpose.
‘Which daughter?’ he bit out. ‘Which of the Bennet daughters eloped?’
Mrs Preston raised a brow at Darcy’s tone; if she refused to speak, the temptation to take her by her righteous shoulders and shake the name from her would be unstoppable. He felt almost sick with trepidation.
The lady turned away to address her master again. ‘It was not the young lady who took ill here at Netherfield.’ She did not seem to notice the relief flooding Bingley’s features. ‘Now there was a young lady who knew how to comport herself.’ She paused, clearly thinking, and Darcy could feel his shoulders tightening in suspense. ‘No, I do not recall her given name; I knew her by sight only, one of the younger girls, though markedly the tallest.’ The housekeeper’s countenance assumed a disdainful expression as Darcy dropped into a nearby chair. ‘Always hanging around the officers in Meryton, they were. A complete discredit to the family.’ She sniffed and raised her chin. ‘Mark my words, I said to my husband, it will all come to no good.’
Darcy released a taut breath as she continued. He could recall the younger Bennets from the last time he had seen them, cavorting noisily and with little decorum at the Netherfield Ball, hanging constantly upon the arm of one Red Coat or another.
‘And I was right.’ Mrs Preston declared with an air of triumph. ‘Met her end, did she not? As did the mother. Both dead and gone nigh on a twelve-month.’
Chapter Five
‘What!’ Bingley shot upright in his seat, throwing an appalled look at Darcy, who stared back at him in stunned surprise.
‘How—how dreadful!’ Bingley slowly sank back in his chair. ‘What on earth brought about such a circumstance?’
Mrs Preston shrugged. ‘It was said Mrs Bennet took ill from the outset, worked herself into a state for want of news of her missing daughter. They were, as it was told, excessively attached to one another.’
Bingley waved a hand. ‘Pray, continue.’
‘The daughter was the first to meet her end, in some low part of London, and when word reached Longbourn, Mrs Bennet became inconsolable, had some sort of fit. They brought the girl back from Town to be laid to rest – though fortunate they are the good Reverend found it in himself to take her into his churchyard. About a se’nnight passed before another seizure came upon the mother, more severe than the first. The servants claim to have carried her senseless from the master’s library and returned her to her bed and from it she never rose again, passing away but a few days later.’ Her expression lost a little of its severity. ‘She was laid to rest beside the daughter soon after.’
Darcy drew in a short breath. The family’s loss must have been terrible; why did he not feel it more? Because you do not believe it was Elizabeth who cast herself into Wickham’s power and later perished for it.
‘And what of the remaining family?’ Bingley voiced the question Darcy dared not.
Mrs Preston shrugged dismissively. ‘They could hardly continue in the district, the stain upon the family lingering as it did.’ She stopped and sniffed, raising her chin. ‘Twas not merely the suspicion of no marriage taking place between the girl and her beau, you see; there was rumour aplenty surrounding Mrs Bennet’s final illness, and as for Mr Bennet... well now, I am not inclined to gossip, sir, you understand.’ The housekeeper looked to Bingley expectantly.
Darcy met Bingley’s bewildered look. ‘Then let us not speak of it. If you could share what you understand to be fact, Mrs Preston?’
‘It was said a connection was able to source a property for them and before anything was known of it, the family departed the dist
rict. The present tenants took up residence at Longbourn, and there is an end to it. I am not privy to where they have gone, nor is anyone in the neighbourhood.’ She gave Bingley a keen look. ‘Not that any would seek to continue the acquaintance in the circumstances.’
Darcy got to his feet and walked over to the window again, staring out into the benign parkland. Where the devil was Elizabeth? What terrible misfortune, to lose a sister, a parent—yes, he had held Mrs Bennet in very low esteem, but having lost both of his parents and knowing of the Bennets' closeness, he could easily imagine the despair the family had experienced.
Then, he sighed. Elizabeth had been expunged from his mind, memories of her deftly buried beneath the new ones he had encouraged during his travels, yet how easily she was resurfacing. He could think of nothing but her suffering; such loss, and then upheaval from her family home, removed who knew where by her father…
Darcy suddenly recalled his steward’s visit: could Mr Bennet, widower residing with two daughters on his estate, be Mr Bennet of Longbourn? Yet four daughters had left Hertfordshire – if it was they, what of the others? Had Miss Bennet and Elizabeth, as he had already considered, each found her own establishment in another neighbourhood and left the family home?
Darcy pushed the thought ruthlessly aside. He would not dwell upon such things. Besides, if the family sought anonymity, then Pemberley could never be their choice. He must not allow himself to be filled with a compelling urge to find her, to discover the truth of the matter. It was ludicrous; his connection with the Bennets was over, consigned to the past.
~o0o~
‘I wonder which of the younger girls ran off.’ Bingley mused as they walked their horses out of the stables and prepared to mount.
‘It is easily confirmed.’
Bingley frowned. ‘How so?’
Darcy gestured towards Longbourn. ‘The churchyard.’
‘Of course! Shall we… should we…’
‘Lead the way, Bingley.’
A Quest for Mr Darcy Page 3