11. Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
January 1812 Darcy House Darcy
" M r. Bingley to see you, sir." Darcy's butler stepped aside to allow the caller into the study.
"Good day, Darcy! How do you do?" Bingley looked happier than he had in months. His grin spread wide across his cheeks, which were pink from the cold. Bingley approached the desk almost swaggering, and Darcy wondered if he had met another angel—or perhaps he had seen Miss Bennet.
"Good day to you," he said, returning the greeting. "You seem in fine form this afternoon."
"Of course I am!" Bingley sat in the seat in front of Darcy's desk. "I have just returned from calling upon Jane—Miss Bennet, that is. Her aunt and uncle have a charming house. Very hospitable, the Gardiners."
Darcy nodded. "Yes, about Miss Bennet… Bingley, I am sorry. I thought I was advising you in the best way."
"No matter. By the time you sent your note, I already knew Jane was in town and had called upon the Gardiners to see her. I am very grateful she did not send me away with a flea in my ear. She had every right. One ought not to comment on a lady's appearance in an uncomplimentary fashion, but she looked dreadful. Eyes sunk in, expression morose…" Bingley trailed off. He looked ashamed. "I ought to have returned to Hertfordshire," he muttered, almost as if speaking to himself. "I knew she loved me, but I was a coward."
"She has forgiven you?" Darcy could only hope. Bingley would hate him forever if his best friend had cost him the love of his life.
Bingley nodded. "Yes! Jane is the most forgiving creature ever to live! I am very thankful she is so kindhearted. My honor was engaged—I see that now. One does not pay such attentions to a lady and then hie off to town with nary a word to her! Disgraceful."
His friend's wish to take responsibility for his actions impressed Darcy. Too often Bingley had leaned on others, relying on them to make important decisions. It was a habit that had crippled him for a long time. One cannot grow if one is too scared to take risks and make mistakes. Life was a messy business. No one could avoid slipping in the muck once in a while.
"You said you already received a note?" Darcy recalled his friend's words. "From whom?"
"I cannot tell you. It was written in big, blocky letters and signed, 'a friend.'" Bingley shrugged. "Whoever they are, I wish I could thank them. They did me a good turn—I will not forget it."
Darcy had his suspicions. Georgiana's pointed questions about Bingley and Miss Bennet and his interference were recalled to his mind. Had his little sister meddled in someone else's life beyond his own? Georgiana was proving to be a formidable matchmaker—the ladies of the ton would not stand a chance against her machinations.
"Come to dinner on Thursday," Darcy said suddenly. "You have not come to dine in some time."
"Very well." Bingley stood. "Was that all you wished to speak with me about? You have my forgiveness, you know. Everything has turned out for the best." He lowered his voice. "It is a sight more pleasurable to court away from Mrs. Bennet," he chuckled. "She is a dear woman, but likes to monopolize the conversation."
Darcy could do nothing but agree. Mrs. Bennet's interest in everything and everyone was difficult to stomach. It was one of his objections to Elizabeth's family. Such a loud gossip the lady was, always directing things as she liked them and looking down on anyone she disliked—just like Lady Catherine. His heart seized and his mind whirled as he continued to draw parallels between his aunt and Mrs. Bennet. What was the difference, really? Lady Catherine hunted gentlemen— one gentleman, that is—for her daughter, and Mrs. Bennet did the same for hers. His aunt had only her position to protect her from scorn. Being the daughter of an earl could shield a lady from much disparagement.
He felt even more guilty at this realization. How could he excuse the behavior of a relation and condemn the same behavior in another? Was he truly such a hypocrite?
"Darcy!" Bingley cried. "Are you well? You look as though you have swallowed a lemon."
"I am well, Bingley." Darcy put his head in his hand. "Merely had an unpleasant thought." He paused and looked up. "Do you ever have moments of clarity where you know you have made a mistake, and it takes you by surprise?"
Bingley nodded and chuckled. "Yes, I have them often. Sometimes they are little nudges, and other times it is as if someone fired a cannon at me. That was what it was like as I read the anonymous letter." Smirking, Bingley bid Darcy farewell again, promising to come to dinner on Thursday. Alone once more, Darcy examined more closely his behavior in Meryton.
Elizabeth might have forgiven the man from the letters. That man had changed. He had improved himself and, in doing so, won her regard. He was not that man—not yet. But by George, he would work as hard as he could to become him!
A half hour later, Georgiana found him staring out the window. It was time for tea, and she wished for him to join her.
"Did you send Bingley a letter, too?" he asked abruptly as she came into his line of sight.
Startled, she gaped before flushing dark red. "Yes," she said, tilting her chin up defiantly. "He deserved to know."
"You are correct," Darcy said, sighing as he stood. "I know you took precautions—he told me—but do you comprehend how disastrous it would have been if someone— anyone— learned you wrote to an unmarried man?"
She smiled slyly. "It would probably be as disastrous as an unmarried man writing to an unmarried lady who currently stays near Cheapside." With that, she whirled around and flounced away. Irritated that his sister had once again got the better of him and, wondering if Elizabeth's influence was the cause, Darcy followed her. He needed a fortifying cup of tea to survive the day.