Chapter 16
Darcy had never thought he would be so pleased to be at Netherfield, but as he came downstairs to join the others for breakfast, he found it was so. It had been a brief trip to London, for which he was thankful. Now that he was back in Meryton, he was eager to hear what Elizabeth had found out from her mother. He sat next to Bingley, gratefully noting the absence of Miss Bingley at the breakfast table. She had opted to stay in town with Mr and Mrs Hurst, and while Darcy had no intention of saying as much to his friend, he was heartily glad. Her absence would afford him some much-appreciated peace while he was a guest at Netherfield.
“You seem in glum spirits, Darcy. Whatever is the matter?” Bingley asked as Darcy sat down at the small round mahogany table. “You ought to look cheerful — as much as you ever do, that is. The sun is shining, and you have returned to be near your love.”
“She is not my love,” Darcy said, more forcefully than he had intended. He grimaced. Not that he was opposed to Elizabeth in any way. Quite the contrary. He was beginning to find her superior to any other woman he had ever known. Only — it remained all too clear that she did not feel the same about him. However much he might want her to be his love, it seemed impossible that she would ever see him in that light.
Darcy schooled his face to neutrality. “Nothing is amiss,” he said. “It was simply a long journey. Forgive my harshness, old friend.”
“There is nothing to forgive. Have some breakfast, and things will look better, I assure you,” Bingley said.
The two friends settled into a scrumptious breakfast, though Darcy found himself unable to eat most of it. Worry over what Elizabeth had found spoiled any appetite he might have had. And concern over whether Wickham had tried to come calling again had kept him up nights while he had been away. He knew how perfidious the man could be. Of course, he was charming, and that only made matters worse. His charm made it all too easy for others to give him credit for a good character — credit that was sadly more than his due. He could only hope that, if the man visited his betrothed, she would have the good sense to see through his mask.
“Well, what are your plans for the day? I assume you have a mountain of letters to answer, since you have been gallivanting around London, hmm?” Bingley asked, taking a sip of his tea.
“I thought to ride to Longbourn this afternoon. I am eager —” Darcy began. He stopped abruptly and cleared his throat. “I am to see Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Ahh, of course, you are eager. I will say I am not displeased that you and Miss Elizabeth have ended up together. She is an exceptional person — so witty and spirited, exactly what you need, my friend. She will be a good match for you.” Bingley winked at Darcy.
Darcy only nodded. “Well, I shall be off then,” he said. He folded his linen napkin and placed it beside his plate. “I may be gone for a good part of the day. You can expect me for dinner.”
“And if you do not come, I shall take it upon myself to come and rescue you,” Bingley teased.
“You only want an excuse to come and see Miss Bennet,” Darcy shot back.
“Right you are!” Bingley replied. “She is the most bewitching creature.”
Though he could not bring himself to admit it aloud, Darcy was beginning to feel the same way about Elizabeth. He went out of the dining room, retrieved his coat and hat, and took a horse from the stables. Darcy mounted up and made his way to the lane that ran from the front of Netherfield and wound its way through the countryside to Longbourn. The fresh air did him good, helping to clear his head after all the bustle and stench of London. It was difficult to pinpoint how he felt about finding out the answers Elizabeth had been searching for while he had been away. Strangely, it might almost be a relief if Mrs Bennet were guilty. At least then they would have their answer. Yet the consequences of such a result would be terrible. If Elizabeth found out that her mother had had anything to do with such a deplorable business, she would be stricken with guilt and shame. She would likely insist on ending their engagement, cost her what it may. Indeed, Darcy could not relish the thought of being connected by marriage to a woman who would do such a thing to find her daughter a husband, no matter how greatly he had come to admire that daughter.
After leaving his horse at Longbourn’s stables, Darcy strode across the lawn to the main entrance. He saw several faces pressed against the glass. Darcy could clearly hear the loud announcement that “Lizzy’s betrothed has come!” and a great pounding of feet as everyone made their way to the parlour to receive him. Though the display showed a sad lack of propriety and grace, it certainly was not wanting in family feeling or enthusiasm. Darcy found a smile spreading over his face. Lizzy’s betrothed — a wonderful phrase. It filled him with joy and pride at the thought that Elizabeth belonged to him — for however long that might be.
The door opened before he had even cleared the porch’s landing. “Mr Darcy! How good of you to come calling after your long journey. Do come in! Come in!” Mrs Bennet greeted him warmly and ushered him into the parlour, where a lavish tea was being set. “We have been expecting you. I told the cook to spare no expense when you came. And here you are!”
Darcy hardly knew whether to smile or frown. There was that same lack of propriety — did not Mrs Bennet know she ought to have her housekeeper open the door and usher him in? — and yet such a pleasing friendliness and warmth that he could not entirely condemn it. Mr Bennet took a moment to shake his hand and welcome him back from his journey. Afterward, he excused himself and hurried away to cloister himself in his study, leaving Darcy to visit with the women over tea.
“Does not my Lizzy look well, Mr Darcy? I daresay the betrothal has brought out the colour in her cheeks,” Mrs Bennet said. She put her arm around Elizabeth’s waist. Elizabeth stood at the front of the room to greet him, staged there, no doubt, by her mother, while the rest of the Bennet sisters occupied the back of the room. Mr Darcy could not say he was disappointed, for Elizabeth was the picture of loveliness and grace. She was dressed in a soft blue that brought out the darkness of her eyes and hair. For a moment, he was almost unable to breathe.
“She looks very well indeed, Mrs Bennet. My betrothed is a credit to you, I am sure. How do you do, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Quite well, thank you,” she answered. A knowing look passed between them, and for a moment, all was silent.
The rest of the sisters offered their greetings a moment later, breaking the spell, and they were all seated around the hearth. Mrs Bennet hardly waited until everyone was settled before jumping into conversation. “It has been very dull around here since you went away, Mr Darcy. We have all been on pins and needles waiting for your return. Tell us, have you received the special license?”
Darcy looked up in surprise and caught Elizabeth’s gaze. She gave him an apologetic smile, then set her teacup aside. “Mama, perhaps you might let poor Mr Darcy catch his breath before questioning him,” she suggested gently.
But Mrs Bennet would have none of it. “Oh, do not be ridiculous, my dear! Of course, Mr Darcy does not object to my inquiring about such an important point! I shall have you know I am vastly proud that I shall have a daughter married by special license. One does not experience such a distinction every day!”
Darcy had to think fast. Of course, Mrs Bennet thought he had gone to London to procure a special license. And much as he hated deception, it would be advantageous that she might continue to think so.
“Everything will be in order when it is required, I assure you, madam,” Darcy replied. His answer seemed to satisfy her, and she was soon off on another subject.
Elizabeth lowered her eyes to her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. She seemed relieved that he had not set her mother straight. Now, more than ever, he was eager to find out what she had learned of her mother’s involvement in the plot to bring them together. Throughout the rest of the tea, Darcy wondered if he really would need to procure a special license from the church. If they could not clear their names, a speedy marriage might be wise. There was one relief — at least it need not be conducted as though there had been an indiscretion too great to wait for the banns to be read.
“I hope the journey was not too uncomfortable for you, Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth asked. She had a strange look in her eyes. Could it have been caused by something she discovered while he was gone, something she feared to tell him? Darcy looked deeply into her eyes and wondered again why he had bought her the necklace.
Unbidden, his eyes travelled down her face to her throat, lingering on the spot where the beautiful jewellery piece should rest, if he ever had the chance to give it to her. His throat suddenly went dry. He knew he should not want such a thing, but he so longed to see it grace her elegant throat.
“Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.
He looked up sharply and was glad to see that they were not the subject of everyone’s attention. Her sisters and mother had moved on to discussing the particulars of the wedding breakfast to be held after he and Elizabeth had said their vows.
“It was not as great an inconvenience as you might suppose. I am used to making the journey to London from Pemberley, which is a far longer distance.” Darcy lowered his voice. “But I thank you for your concern.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed to life with a pretty shade of pink. He longed to speak with her in private, not only to hear what she had found in her investigation, but for the pleasure of her company.
That desire, at least, might easily be satisfied at the cost of a little patience. When tea was over, he suggested a walk outside. Elizabeth seemed to follow his thoughts without effort. She retrieved a shawl and led him out to the little wilderness beside the house. A little uneasily, Darcy noticed it was the same place where they had had their previous falling out. He hoped this encounter would be nothing like the last.
She waited for a few moments, both of them walking in silence until they were confident they were clear of any listening ears. “I am glad to see you returned safely, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth began. “Though I am afraid you may see your trip as a wasted endeavour, when you hear what I have to tell.”
Darcy’s heart clenched with fearful anticipation. “I assume you had the opportunity to speak to your mother on the subject?” he prompted. He clasped his hands behind his back, but as they came to a small stream, he offered her his arm and helped her over the little rivulet. When they were safely on the other side, strolling through the grass, he did not let her go.
He was pleased that she seemed content to keep her hand in the crook of his arm. “I did. I questioned her about having any involvement in the plot to coerce you into speaking for my hand, but my mother denies it completely. And after pressing her on the subject, I believe her.” Elizabeth halted on the little worn path through the browning grass and looked up at him. “My mother may be many things, Mr Darcy, but she is not a liar. In the end, we are right back where we started. I am sorry you wasted a trip to London to be so disappointed.”
Darcy breathed a sigh of relief. “Far from it. I am not disappointed, Miss Elizabeth. In truth, I am glad to hear that your mother had nothing to do with the matter.”
He looked out over the fields, feeling the release of tension sweep through him. The wind howled around them, whipping the branches of the nearby trees into a frenzy. He looked over at Elizabeth, who did not seem bothered in the slightest by the elements. She was very fond of walking, after all, and no doubt had gone for a brisk walk in weather much worse than this. The wind had disarrayed her coiffure, giving her a somewhat wild, untamed air. It was wholly attractive to him, which was a surprise. Elizabeth was nothing like the woman he had always imagined he would end up married to, and yet everything he never knew he needed.
“I must confess that I am surprised at your reaction, Mr Darcy.”
“Oh? In what way?” he asked.
“I had not expected you to be so easily satisfied,” Elizabeth admitted. “You seem to have accepted this conclusion merely on my saying I believe it to be so. I rather thought you would require more proof that what I say is true.”
He looked over at her in surprise. She seemed so small at that moment, so vulnerable. And yet she had resolved to settle the subject thoroughly. It occurred to him that in other circumstances, he might well have demanded to take part in the conversation himself, to try to catch out Mrs Bennet in his own hearing. Certainly he would not have accepted such a conclusion from Caroline Bingley — not if marriage to him was on the line. But if Elizabeth gave him her word, that was enough for him. Darcy could not imagine her acting dishonestly, whatever the stakes.
“I trust in your character, Miss Elizabeth. If you say that your mother is innocent, then that is good enough for me,” he replied.
Elizabeth smiled at him, and he thought how very lovely she was. He wished she had been by his side at his aunt and uncle’s soiree. It would have made the evening wholly different, would have brought the dance to life.
She licked her lips as if trying to work out something to say. Did she realise how she drove him to distraction anytime she did that? “I thank you for your confidence, Mr Darcy. In both my character and my judgement. But that still leaves us back where we left off. Who would have the most to gain from seeing us married? I cannot understand it.”
They walked on for some time, enjoying the cool breeze and the winter sunshine. “I do not know, Miss Elizabeth. I confess I still believe, and please do not take this the wrong way, but your parents and family had the most to gain from this alliance.”
“No offense is taken, Mr Darcy. I agree. Yet I am confident in my mother’s innocence, and no one else in my family would have thought of arranging a compromise. My father is not so heedless, and certainly none of my sisters would consider such a thing,” Elizabeth said. She sighed. “I am very sorry, Mr Darcy. Though I had no intention of standing idly by while you are trapped into marrying me, the plan is not going quite as I had hoped. I cannot seem to think of what to do next.”
Darcy said nothing for a long moment. He was beginning to think that he would not be too upset at being trapped, as she put it. Indeed, he had started to look forward to the day they would say their vows. Yet her feelings were all too clear. Though Elizabeth kindly phrased her hesitations as wishing to grant him his freedom, she surely meant that she desired her own. Delay would, perhaps, be for the best. If investigating who had tried to trick them would give him more time to show his worthiness to Elizabeth, then he would welcome it.
Elizabeth stopped when they came to a towering oak tree at the edge of the Longbourn property. The house was still visible, giving an air of respectability to their walk. Anyone who looked from the windows would be able to see them, though the distance was great enough to allow them to speak freely. “Miss Elizabeth, you seem to be in distress. Is there something that is bothering you?”
She looked up at him, her dark eyes sending thrills through him. He was not sure how she did it with one simple look. But his heart burned within him. “There is something, and I am afraid to say it. It is a matter that has caused some upset before.”
“And what is that, pray tell?” Darcy asked.
“Mr Wickham,” Miss Elizabeth said. She looked away and paced underneath the bare tree branches. She wrung her hands, as if even mentioning the man’s name caused her pain. “I know you think I encouraged him that day on the road, but I did not.”
Darcy closed the distance between them. “I do not think that. Not anymore. Please forgive me, Miss Elizabeth. When I saw him with you, kissing your hand, it brought back every foul memory I have had to endure at his hands. I was rash and foolish, but I acted out of worry for you, that he was trying to work the same kind of ill upon you.” He took her hand. “Your hands are cold,” he whispered.
She gasped softly, nodding. “I thank you for your concern,” she replied. He held her hand for a long moment. It was a luxury that he ought not to allow himself, if the engagement were to be dissolved, and yet Darcy could not bring himself to let go. After a moment, Elizabeth seemed to remember herself. She drew her hands away and wrapped them in the folds of her shawl. “Mr Darcy, though I hate to say it, I was wrong. At first, I believed Mr Wickham to be a man of amiable temper and upright character. However, if he would attempt to flirt with another man’s wife, I must conclude that my first impressions of him were entirely mistaken.”
Darcy warmed to hear her call herself his wife. Perhaps it was time to share the details of what had happened between Mr Wickham and Georgiana — the whole truth. Yet could he truly hope to be believed?
He could not think of that now. Mr Wickham had nearly ruined Georgiana. It seemed all too likely that he would gladly do the same to Elizabeth if he could. And yet…
Thunder rolled overhead, and they looked up in unison. Dark, grey clouds had moved in while they had been talking, and the wind had picked up in preparation for the coming rain. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion inside?” he suggested.
“Yes. We can go into the east parlour. We will not be disturbed there,” Elizabeth said. She took his arm when he offered it, and they walked back to the house in easy silence. Darcy rolled his shoulders to loosen them, his decision made. No matter how Elizabeth interpreted his motives for telling her of the scandal between Wickham and Georgiana, the truth could not wait.