His Good Opinion: A Mr. Darcy Novel

by Nancy Kelley

  "Of course, Mrs. Gardiner."

  "Then we shall see you tomorrow night for dinner."

  Darcy smiled, and his eyes drifted to Elizabeth. "I greatly look forward to it."

  Elizabeth blushed, and Mrs. Gardiner nodded to their driver. Darcy stepped away from the carriage, and this time, he did not turn until it had disappeared down the lane.

  When he returned to the salon, he found Caroline abusing Elizabeth in the strongest language she dared use. "How very ill Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy! I never in my life saw anyone so much altered as she is since the winter. She is grown so brown and coarse Louisa and I were agreeing that we should not have known her again."

  She clearly expected some kind of response from him, some token agreement perhaps. It was foolish on her part, he reasoned, for she obviously was driven to speak thus because she had seen his regard for Elizabeth had not faltered. Why then does she expect me to join in her censure?

  He could not leave the sentence hanging, however, and he said, "I perceived no other alteration than her being rather tanned, and that is no miraculous consequence of traveling in the summer."

  Miss Bingley flushed beneath her own tan, but she was not quieted. "For my own part, I must confess that I never could see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome."

  Mrs. Hurst tried to catch her sister's eye, but either Miss Bingley did not notice or did not care to be stopped, for she tilted her head slightly and continued with her litany of Elizabeth's perceived flaws. "Her nose wants character; there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine, I never could perceive anything extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not like at all; and in her air altogether, there is a self-sufficiency without fashion which is intolerable."

  Darcy had maintained his composure as well as he could, but these sly remarks on Elizabeth's fine eyes raised his ire past what he could conceal. He had long regretted making that comment within Miss Bingley's earshot; he was beyond tired of hearing her bandy it about.

  She was not done, however. "I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, 'She a beauty! I should as soon call her mother a wit!' But afterwards she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time."

  This was the outside of enough. He could bear Miss Bingley's mockery of his good opinion of Elizabeth with fortitude. But to hear his mistaken first impressions displayed before his sister, who was now looking at him with mild reproach, infuriated him.

  "Yes, but that was only when I first knew her, for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance."

  Miss Bingley snapped her mouth shut, and Darcy stood and bowed with severe formality. The gentlemen were still fishing at the river, and he felt quite sure that they would be better company than Caroline Bingley.

  Agitated as he was on quitting the room, he could not help but realize he had just made his feelings abundantly clear, and it struck him that perhaps it was time he made his intentions likewise clear to Elizabeth.

  Nothing stopped him from declaring himself but an uncertainty of her own heart. That she had softened toward him was obvious. He recalled, with gratitude and pride, her manner in quelling Miss Bingley's inappropriate reference to Wickham. Clearly she no longer held Wickham in any esteem. But had she transferred that regard to him? He could not say, and after his disastrous proposal in Kent, he was unwilling to venture a guess.

  He resolved, therefore, to return their visit with one of his own on the morrow. The company of Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner he had found enjoyable, and any time spent with Elizabeth was greatly to be desired. During this interview he would attempt to gain, by some measure, a sense of her opinion of him. If it had indeed improved, he would, in the manner befitting her station, ask her uncle for permission to court her.

  He blushed when he thought of the impropriety of his addresses toward her in Kent. Not only had his words been insulting, the very manner of address had been indecorous. He had not sought permission from anyone, for he had not believed his attention would be anything less than desirable to the interested parties. He would not make that mistake again.

  And if he found Elizabeth alone? He remembered their private conversation in the Hunsford parsonage and shifted uneasily. He had thought then that he had gained a suitable understanding of her wishes, and he had been wrong. However, in this setting he thought it unlikely, and he had some certainty of her approbation to at least assure him she would not be adverse with sharing a few words with him in private. From there... well, fate had brought her as far as Derbyshire. Surely fate could do a little more for him.

  Chapter Thirty

  Darcy was already awake when the sunlight crept through the closed curtains into his bedchamber. The similarity of this day to the one in April did not escape him, and the lingering fear that Elizabeth might once more repudiate him checked his impulse to ride to Lambton at first light.

  That caution could not curtail his wildly tumbling thoughts, however. Darcy looked out at the grounds, lit as they now were by the early morning light. "I might yet bring Elizabeth here as my wife," he murmured. He let the curtain fall and rang for Vincent.

  His valet turned him out in short order, and Darcy went downstairs. He was glad to find the breakfast room empty; he wanted no company on this visit to Lambton, nor the questions that might attend such a request for solitude.

  He tapped his fingers against the side of his coffee cup, his eyes never leaving the clock. When at last it read eleven o'clock, he could wait no longer. He went to the stables and saddled his own horse, over the protests of the stable hand.

  The ride to Lambton proved little enough time to calm Darcy's mind. What kind of fool was he to once again declare himself to the woman who had once refused him--and in terms so violent they still left a mark in his heart? He checked the reins and the horse pulled back, confused. Darcy glanced over his shoulder at Pemberley. "What purpose can there be for such an interview?"

  He turned around, but then he remembered Elizabeth's smiles in the last few days--sweet, genuine smiles that were so much more inviting than any he had ever seen from her before. His pulse raced and he knew, foolish though it might be, that he could not let her leave Derbyshire without making one more attempt to win her heart.

  The serving maid at the inn met him with a slight smile, and he knew it was not only the members of his own party who had gathered his feelings toward Miss Bennet. Not even this lack of privacy could squelch his excitement, and he returned her smile with one of his own before he took the stairs.

  At the top of the stairs, a door swung open and Elizabeth burst out of their private rooms. Her cheeks were pale, and he thought he spied unshed tears in her eyes. In her hand she clutched a letter, but before he could ask her what was the cause of her distress, she exclaimed, "I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find Mr. Gardiner this morning, on business that cannot be delayed; I have not a moment to lose."

  "Good God! What is the matter?" Darcy took a breath and collected the emotions roiling inside him at the sight of her obvious agitation and said, "I will not detain you a minute, but let me, or let the servant, go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are not well enough; you cannot go yourself."

  Elizabeth took another step forward and he detected a tremor in her step. She put a hand on the doorframe, and just when he would have insisted she sit down, she pressed the letter to her heart and drew a shaky breath. "John!" A manservant appeared at the foot of the stairs. "Please fetch my aunt and uncle for me - they are walking in the village. Go, and do not tarry a single moment!" she commanded, and the catch in her voice made Darcy's heart ache. The man nodded
and dashed off.

  Elizabeth moved back into the parlor and sat down, and though propriety would have ordered Darcy to leave her alone, her pale features and watery eyes made it impossible for him to do so. He sat down in the chair beside her, and nothing but a doubt of her feelings kept him from taking her hand in his.

  "Let me call your maid," he offered, desperate to be of some use. "Is there nothing you could take, to give you present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill."

  She swallowed hard, and he could see the effort with which she held back tears. "No, I thank you," she replied. "There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well; I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I just received from Longbourn."

  The tears flowed freely then, and Darcy waited with impatient concern for her to collect herself. She wiped her eyes, but to no avail; tears still streamed from them and it was many moments before she was able to speak at all.

  Finally, she said, "I have just had a letter from Jane, with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone. My youngest sister has left all her friends--has eloped; has thrown herself into the power of--of Mr. Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton. You know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to--she is lost forever."

  Darcy sat in stunned silence while she dabbed at her eyes once more. Has Wickham not caused enough mischief in my life? Would that Richard had dispatched him earlier!

  Her next words fixed his recriminations back on his own person. "When I consider that I might have prevented it! I who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of it only--some part of what I learnt--to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not have happened. But it is all, all too late now."

  But was it your place to share that story? Darcy wondered, his concern for Elizabeth shifting to self-reproach. Should not that task fall to the one who had long been witness to his depravities? Why did I remain silent, rather than let the whole world know what he is?

  His guilt drove him to speak more forcefully than he usually would have. "I am grieved indeed; grieved--shocked. But is it certain, absolutely certain?"

  "Oh yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night, and were traced almost to London, but not beyond; they are certainly not gone to Scotland."

  Darcy's mind whirled. There still remained a chance of recovering Lydia. If she could be found and brought home before news of this indiscretion was known to the general public, there would not be a very great scandal. Elizabeth and Jane especially would be free of the reproach which now threatened their own characters.

  To this end, he asked, "And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?"

  Elizabeth clenched her handkerchief in her hand. "My father is gone to London, and Jane has written to beg my uncle's immediate assistance, and we shall be off, I hope, in half an hour. But nothing can be done; I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!"

  With every word from Elizabeth's mouth, Darcy's own path became clearer. He knew how to discover Wickham, and he had the means of working on him. Any guilt which was not Wickham's belonged to him. It was his fault that none knew the truth of Wickham's character. Elizabeth had only kept it secret on his behalf.

  Elizabeth, however, was not done, and her next words drove his sense of responsibility higher. "When my eyes were opened to his real character... Oh, had I known what I ought, what I dared, to do! But I knew not-I was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched mistake!"

  Darcy's heart beat with tender, ardent affection. Though she regretted her silence now that her own sister's honor was at stake, he admired her integrity--her willingness to keep Georgiana's name unsullied. He respected her no less for wishing that the same could be said of Lydia.

  Darcy knew if he stayed by Elizabeth any longer, he would not be able to keep himself from reaching out to comfort her. He tapped his hand against his leg as he paced the room.

  Where would Wickham go in London? To one of his friends from University? Darcy's lips curled in a sneer. No, he owes them too much money. Mrs. Younge then--yes, he will be looking for a place to stay. He thought back to his own business with Mrs. Younge and soon realized he had her address, or the very least, the one she had given him as a forwarding address.

  Darcy turned back to Elizabeth, and he saw to his chagrin that she had her face buried in her handkerchief and was crying once more. The impropriety of his being there finally struck him and he said, "I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead my excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern. Would to Heaven that anything could be either said or done on my part that might offer consolation to such distress!" He held her gaze, hoping she might see the sincerity in his eyes, the depth of that honest concern. "But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks. This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister's having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley today."

  Elizabeth swallowed and attempted a smile, but it faded after only a second. "Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologize for us to Miss Darcy. Say that urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as it is possible. I know it cannot be long."

  More than ever, Darcy wished they had a formal agreement, that he might offer some more personal comfort. Words seemed paltry in the face of such acute misery, but they were all he had.

  "I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, you may depend upon my discretion." She smiled a little, but it did not reach her eyes. "I am very sorry your visit to Derbyshire should end on such a note; indeed, sorry that such an event has come to pass at all. I hope for the sake of all your family that this entire affair may be resolved reasonably well."

  He bowed, and she inclined her head. "Please pass along my compliments to your aunt and uncle. I have greatly enjoyed getting to know them."

  Darcy was not, by nature, a neck-or-nothing rider--in fact, he despised men capable of that kind of disregard for an animal's well-being. But when he arrived at Pemberley stables that afternoon, his horse was covered in a thick lather of sweat. "Walk him around the grounds until he cools off, and then rub him down well. Oh, and give him an extra helping of oats this evening," he ordered the surprised stable hand.

  His anxieties spent, his mind was clear to focus on the recurring problem of George Wickham. He knew where he would find him, knew how to sway the man to do his bidding, but the one thing he had not yet arranged to his liking was his own departure from Pemberley.

  He gazed at the house from the end of the drive and abruptly turned off to one of the footpaths. "What excuse can I concoct which my guests will accept?" He walked up the steep incline to a bluff overlooking the Derwent. It was one of his favorite places, one he had wanted to show Elizabeth someday.

  He realized a moment later that Elizabeth herself had provided the solution to this problem. "Tell her that urgent business calls us home..."

  "Very well. It is an excuse I can tell for myself. What is more, I can easily disguise the nature of Elizabeth's departure if I cover it with my own haste."

  Darcy walked back to the house and found the whole company waiting for him in the drawing room. "Mr. Darcy!" exclaimed Caroline Bingley. "We had quite despaired of your ever joining us. Surely a round of country calls does not take the whole day."

  "I beg your pardon, Miss Bingley. I was not aware I had pledged myself to any engagement at home." The words were too pointed for the meaning to be missed--Miss Bingley flushed bright red and her eyes sparked with anger.

  Darcy ignored her reaction and continued. "As it happens, I have been called to town on a matter of some urgency, and rode to Lambton to inform Miss Bennet and the Gardiners that I would not be at home to receive them for dinner tonight."

  He despised the quick flash of triumph he saw in her eyes. "You a
re, of course, all welcome to stay. I hope my business will be finished within a week, and then I will be able to rejoin you."

  Before the rest of the party could react or ask any further questions, Darcy turned to his sister then. "Georgiana? May I speak with you in my study?"

  His sister obediently followed him down the hall, and he shut the door behind them. Once they were private, he led her over to the small couch by the window. To everyone else, he would not breathe a word of Lydia's disgrace, but he would not lie to Georgiana--not when the subject was George Wickham.

  "Fitzwilliam?"

  "I am afraid I have some rather unsettling news, my dear--news which we must keep to ourselves."

  Her blue eyes filled with concern. "What is it? What is wrong?"

  "One of Elizabeth's sisters--a girl just your age--has eloped with Mr. Wickham."

  Her cheeks paled and she sank onto the settee. "Oh no, not him!"

  "Indeed. They left together from Brighton on Sunday. She just had news of it this morning, and they are traveling back to Longbourn so Mr. Gardiner can assist Mr. Bennet in tracking them down."