Chapter Twelve #2
He stood back to let Fitzwilliam take Lydia’s arm and escort her back into the parlour, met Jane Bennet’s eyes next and couldn’t quite help but glance down guiltily, thinking even as he did so that he must write to Bingley in the morning and convince him to remove to Netherfield as soon as possible.
Jane glided past him serenely, following Lydia and Fitzwilliam into the parlour; she paused in the doorway for a moment, glancing back at him, and then closed the door with a quiet click.
Which left Darcy standing alone in the hall with Elizabeth.
Darcy looked rather as shocked as Elizabeth felt, she thought.
He stood in the open doorway to what she suspected was a study, and she paused in front of him, wondering what in the world she could say.
Considering his previously stated sentiments about the unsuitability of the Bennet family, the prospect of one of them marrying his cousin must be unpalatable at best.
“Well,” Darcy said, looking down at her, and she realised with a start that Jane had closed the parlour door, leaving Darcy alone with her in the hall. “This is most certainly not what I expected to find here in Brighton.”
She felt briefly defensive; she could hardly have known either, but his tone wasn’t in the least accusing. Indeed, his smile looked almost rueful as he shook his head slowly.
“I thought I would be needed to pay off Wickham, remove him from the field of play, but I find that my cousin has very efficiently handled everything.”
“And set himself up as our family’s saviour,” Elizabeth pointed out, then thought she had sounded ungrateful, so added hastily “for which he will have my eternal gratitude. What might have become of Lydia does not bear thinking of.”
“Indeed!” Darcy shuddered. “At least I am confident Wickham would actually have married Georgiana, if he was able. He would have had to in order to get his hands on her dowry, and he can have been sure I would never have allowed her to live in poverty even once that was spent. Lydia...”
“Lydia came with no such assurances, and therefore had little value to him beyond a momentary distraction,” Elizabeth said, brutally direct.
“She is aware of it, to my surprise. I’m not sure who enlightened her - perhaps your cousin - but she has grown up very quickly, into a young woman with a good deal of common sense, if that is of any comfort to you. ”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “Comfort?”
She hesitated, but said “Come, Mr Darcy. It is not so very long ago that you were telling me how unconscionable it would be to have the Bennet family connected with your own.”
He stared at her for a moment, and then, to her astonishment, caught her hand in his own and pulled, drawing her into the empty study. Too startled to protest, she followed, and watched as he closed the door and leaned back against it, his dark eyes fixed on her face.
“You must understand,” he said, almost desperately, “you must understand how much I despise myself for saying those words. I was in terrible pain when I spoke them, lashing out at you for declining my suit, which is no excuse...”
“But it is a reason.” He had released her hand, but she reached out to touch his fingers lightly with her own. “And we both know you were not unjustified.”
“Oh, but I was. Considering how rudely my aunt had been behaving towards you for weeks, I was in no position to criticise the manners of anyone’s relations!” Darcy grimaced. “I was a proud fool and an unmitigated beast to you, and I can only apologise most fervently.”
She gazed at him, thinking how very much he seemed to have changed since that dreadful day in the parsonage at Hunsford.
“Since it seems to be a day for making apologies,” she said, “let me make it clear that yours is accepted and you are forgiven unreservedly, and then you must let me apologise to you, because I was unconscionably cruel that day, without the slightest justification whatsoever.”
“Well, Bingley...” Darcy began, but she pinched the back of his hand lightly, making him startle.
“Mr Bingley isn’t a child. Perhaps you encouraged him to leave, with your observations of Jane’s indifference - and I will concede that to one who does not know her well, her serenity might very well appear to be indifference - but he made the decision to go.
And from what I observed at Pemberley, he might very well make the decision to return, too. ”
“Very likely,” Darcy agreed, “especially since I intend to recruit him to our present cause. I plan to write to him tomorrow and ask him to return to Netherfield and open it up in order to host Fitzwilliam’s and my families, so that Miss Lydia may be married from Longbourn.”
Elizabeth lifted a shaking hand to her lips, recognising the magnitude of Darcy’s actions; not only was he making it almost certain Bingley would return to Netherfield and thus to Jane, but he was also expressing in the strongest terms his support for Lydia’s marriage to his cousin.
His presence at a wedding from Longbourn would make it clear there was nothing havey-cavey about this marriage, even if nobody else from the Fitzwilliam family chose to attend.
“I will also be asking Bingley to escort Georgiana from Pemberley,” Darcy added, “as I think she too should attend our cousin’s wedding, and I rather think she would like to meet your sisters.”
“Oh, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said from behind her fingers, quite overwhelmed. “You are being... well, far more generous than my family deserves.”
He hesitated, shook his head, and then said quietly, “Not true, but I will confess... my first thoughts are not of your family. They are of you.”
She felt her eyes widen as she stared up at him. What she, or he, might have said next would remain unknown, however, because they were interrupted by a great clattering of carriage wheels outside, drawing both of them to the window to look out.
They both recognised the coach in the same moment, the overly ornate vehicle drawn up outside the Forster house looking quite out of place. A bewigged, liveried footman opened the door and pulled down the step.
“Oh, no,“ Elizabeth said, at the same time as Darcy.
He glanced down at her with a half-smile which quickly disappeared as he returned his attention to the scene outside the window, of the footman helping a furious-faced Lady Catherine de Bourgh down from her carriage.