Chapter 28
Darcy returned to Netherfield in spirits very different from anything he could have imagined.
He had considered the dark possibility that he might return in utter dejection, his proposal rejected, and had dared to hope that he would return triumphant and elated, an engaged man.
He had not considered that he might come back without having had the opportunity to propose, and having learned an astonishing secret instead.
Elizabeth’s revelation was something that he could never have imagined, and yet it all made perfect sense.
Why had he not seen it before? It was humiliating to have remained so long in ignorance.
He had always prided himself on being an excellent judge of character, and yet the notorious Mrs Laurence had been hiding out under his own roof undetected.
He ought to be furious, he supposed. Elizabeth had lied to him, lied again and again.
She had lied to Georgiana as well, and how his sister would react upon learning that her dear friend had deceived her so profoundly, Darcy could hardly bear to consider.
She was stronger now than she had been — thank goodness for that.
Still, it must affect her deeply. He would have to hope that she could hold up under her disillusionment.
Disillusionment was the worst of his own pain, Darcy reflected bitterly.
Disillusionment, and the fear that perhaps the Elizabeth he loved had never really existed at all.
Had all her charm and wit, all her sense and even wisdom, been nothing more than another part of the lie?
If she had chosen to play the part of a young gentlewoman who would never dream of working for her keep, who was to say that she might not have counterfeited other parts of her identity as well?
In his heart of hearts, Darcy did not really believe it.
Elizabeth had lied, yes. The pain of that lie, and of knowing that she had not trusted him enough to share the truth, were real.
But Darcy felt down to his bones that if these things were real, so too was the Elizabeth Bennet to whom he had gradually given all his heart.
Only, she was not quite the woman he had thought.
As Darcy reined his horse in at the gate to Netherfield, he gave a dark chuckle.
Perhaps none of his fine musings really mattered.
It had not been an hour since he had left her, and already, he felt the loss of her by his side.
How would he bear spending the rest of the day without her, much less the rest of his life?
Yet it would be folly of the worst kind to forget such a deception simply because his heart ached to be near her.
Only a fool would still wish to propose to a woman when such painful questions remained unanswered.
Was she truly not the woman he had thought her to be?
Or had she only added a new dimension to the character he already adored?
Elizabeth had made a fool of him. He must be a fool in truth, for even after learning of her lies, his love for her was undiminished.
To Darcy’s relief, he managed to avoid both his host and his sister upon returning to the house.
He felt greatly in need of a little private reflection before facing the inconvenient questions with which they would surely greet him.
Thankfully, the sound of Beethoven issuing from the drawing room as he slipped past told him that Georgiana was being well entertained.
He gained his own room undetected and shut the door behind him. Now, at last, he might have privacy to think. By the time supper was announced, he would attain some measure of control over himself. He would maintain his composure, whatever came of the morning’s surprises.
Darcy wrestled with his emotions, heedless of time. When the supper bell chimed, he looked up in surprise. Surely it could not already be so late.
A glance at the clock on the mantelpiece informed him it was, whatever he might think about it. It was necessary to make haste in adjusting his attire, or he would be late.
“There you are, Fitzwilliam.” Georgiana greeted him as he entered the drawing room. She frowned in concern when he did not immediately smile. She approached him and linked arms with him. “Are you well? You look a little peaked.”
“I am, thank you,” he said. He gave a tight-lipped smile and patted her hand. But he could tell she did not believe him.
“Darcy, how did you spend your day? I have not seen you since breakfast,” Bingley remarked after they had been seated at supper.
“Nor I,” Georgiana said in surprise. “Where have you been, Fitzwilliam? I hope you have not been cooped up writing letters for the estate all day.”
Darcy was fairly caught. “No,” he admitted. “I went to call on the Bennets.”
“You went to see Miss Elizabeth today?” Georgiana exclaimed. “Why did you not take me with you? I should have liked to visit her — ah.”
The moment at which Georgiana thought of a reason he might have wished to call on Elizabeth alone was only too obvious.
Her eyes grew as wide as saucers, and her lips curved in a delighted smile.
Of course, Georgiana would guess at the depth of his feelings for Elizabeth. He ought to have known as much.
But Georgiana did not know that it was all hopeless now. How could he marry a woman he felt he barely knew?
Showing that she deserved every penny of her salary, Mrs Annesley leapt in to cover the awkward moment. “I hope you had a pleasant visit calling on our neighbours, Mr Darcy,” she remarked. “How do they get on?”
“They are well,” Darcy said. “Miss Lydia informed me that Miss Mary has received a new piece of sheet music from one of the parishioners. She was delighted with the gift.”
Mrs Annesley nodded. “Indeed. Miss Mary would make a wonderful organist, do not you think?”
That did it — Mrs Annesley deserved a bonus.
Darcy’s appreciation for the hired companion was only deepened when Georgiana jumped in to assist in turning the conversation.
A year ago, his sister would never have had the judgement or the courage to help smooth an unsteady social situation.
Thanks to their kindness and the always genial Bingley, he got through supper, though not without difficulty.
Darcy was tempted to excuse himself right after supper was over, so he would not have to talk about what had happened that morning with Elizabeth.
However, it was not to be. With a quick glance and a well-timed request that he listen to her play, Georgiana had lured him into the drawing room.
While Darcy had intended to listen to her with proper attention, his good intentions soon gave way.
He stood at the hearth looking into the fire while Georgiana played the pianoforte.
It was a pleasant enough occupation. If the flames gave him no insight, they at least allowed him the luxury of becoming lost in his thoughts.
After a time, Bingley came to lean on the mantelpiece next to him. “I have had a letter from Caroline,” his friend announced. “My sister sends her greetings.”
“Ah, does she?” Darcy said absently.
“She writes she will soon marry,” Bingley went on.
“Really? Please convey my congratulations,” Darcy said. Privately, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least if he returned to London, the woman would leave him alone, too busy with her new life to bother him. “I hope you approve of her husband-to-be?”
Bingley shrugged philosophically, but his expression revealed his doubts.
“To be honest, Darcy, I assume she is marrying him for his money. The gentleman is one whom our sister Louisa introduced to her, a Mr Crawford. Apparently, he is about twenty years her senior and inherited his money from his father, who was a spice trader,” Bingley said.
He rolled his eyes heavenward. “She appears to have decided that the only thing missing from Louisa’s marriage was a large enough fortune.
I only hope the event proves her correct, or her marriage is likely to be as happy as theirs is. ”
Darcy raised a brow and tried not to laugh.
Mr and Mrs Hurst were about as happy as a commodore trapped on land.
Caroline Bingley’s prospects for marital bliss, at least in any form he himself would have cared to enjoy, appeared poor.
But if Miss Bingley could be made happy by such a match, he wished her all the best.
Bingley looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and sadness. Darcy let it go on for a few minutes, then confronted his friend. “You will stare a hole through my best shirt, you know, looking at me like that.”
“You have plenty of shirts, my friend.”
“Yes, but wealth comes from spending wisely, you know,” Darcy said, quoting something his father had often said.
His father had been a practical man, and one not given to heedless action.
Once again, his thoughts wrapped back around to Elizabeth.
She had not tried to make excuses or to make the truth out to be less than what it was.
She had simply told him, consequences be damned.
“So it does,” Bingley said with a chuckle. “Very well then. I shall spare your shirt and save my curiosity.”
From the glance his friend gave him then, Darcy suspected Bingley knew too much, and guessed still more. But Bingley, always so careful with others’ feelings, did not press him.
Though Georgiana was often the first to retire of an evening, she was still playing when Mrs Annesley began to look tired.
Upon being urged several times that she must go to bed if she wished, she at last accepted and made her farewells.
Georgiana played on. She was still playing when Bingley finished a second glass of imported brandy and announced his own intention to retire.
No sooner had he gone than Georgiana lifted her hands from the keys. Darcy was at the point of suggesting that they ought to seek their beds as well when she forestalled him by crossing the room to sit next to him. She looked at him expectantly.