Chapter Twenty-Six
It pleased Darcy inordinately that Elizabeth walked him to his carriage, even if at least two sets of Bennet eyes peered around the edge of the parlor curtains to watch them.
They halted before the conveyance, and he captured Elizabeth’s hand to bow over her delicate fingers.
He felt suddenly bereft, an emotion mirrored on Elizabeth’s face.
“It’s silly,” she said. “It shouldn’t feel so horrid to bid you farewell. You’ll only be in Netherfield, with Bingley and Jane. I’ll see you every day while the banns are read.” Her hand, still clasped in his, squeezed. “Won’t I?”
“Nothing could keep me away.” He wished he could take her in his arms again. Their brief kiss in the dining room had only fueled the need for more.
“I…this is silly, too, but I feel less safe away from Rosings.” Her features folded into a sheepish grimace. “I took you at your word, when you said I would be safe there.”
Darcy reached for her other hand, so he held both. “I never meant to alarm you. There is no reason why you wouldn’t be safe here.”
“Have you received any word on where Mrs. Clegg, Miss Bingley and Mr. Wickham are?”
He shook his head. “No, but if it troubles you this much, I shall redouble the effort.” He would tell his man to hire more people. No expense would be spared.
“I know I’m worrying over Mrs. Clegg excessively, but I’ve never had anyone hate me before, let alone so much so that they would hunt me down and attack me.”
“I thought we agreed the attack wasn’t planned.” But Miss Bingley’s actions had been planned. Darcy wanted to ensure that whatever she was up to now wouldn’t hurt Elizabeth.
“But hunting me down was planned.”
Darcy squeezed her hands, the desire to hold her in his arms a physical pain. He’d never had cause before to so thoroughly resent the mores of society. “I’ll see she’s located. Will you wish to press charges against her? You have more than enough witnesses.”
Elizabeth shook her head, as he’d suspected she would. “No. I understand her anger, even if she only wants the painting for the value of the frame. The letter Miss Bingley forged made me appear quite heartless. I simply want Mrs. Clegg to know the truth. I may even give her the painting.”
Darcy gave Elizabeth’s hands a final squeeze and released her, before he gave in to his impulse to enfold her in his arms. “I will see you tomorrow, after breakfast, and again in the afternoon. Every day.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Please pass along my greeting to Jane and Mr. Bingley. I shall visit tomorrow.” Her eyes glinted with mirth, chasing away much of her worry. “Maybe I shall lunch with them, as I plan to have a caller both before and after the meal.”
“A splendid idea.” Mastering the urge to reach for her again, Darcy turned and climbed into his very empty seeming carriage.
Later that evening as he adjusted his cuffs before the full length mirror in the well-appointed room Mrs. Bingley had given him, readying for dinner, Darcy couldn’t help but recollect dropping Gavin Murphy at a tenant cottage earlier that day.
He and Gavin would be brothers soon, and yet Gavin hadn’t a home, or any other connections, or likely even a suit good enough for Pemberley’s breakfast parlor, let alone dinner at Netherfield.
But Gavin possessed skill, determination and sense, qualities Darcy had come to realize Miss Mary could claim as well.
If Darcy were a betting man, he’d wager a great deal on the prospect of the two creating an extremely successful furniture building business and living at least as well as the Gardiners, who were quite respectable.
Even if they didn’t manage Mr. Gardiner’s level of success, Gavin and Miss Mary were sensible enough to live off as little as fifty pounds a year, which Gavin could easily earn.
And Darcy might not be a betting man, but he still meant to issue a loan.
If Gavin would accept the offer, Darcy would fund setting up a shop in Derbyshire.
He’d commission more pieces, as well, and display them in his home.
What good were connections, after all, if one couldn’t use them?
And if the newlyweds required a place to reside while their home and shop were readied, Darcy would invite Gavin and Miss Mary to Pemberley.
That was how one treated a brother, whether by blood or a legal and spiritual union like marriage.
But not how Darcy would treat Wickham if he did return to wed Miss Lydia. Not after all Wickham had done, running up debts, slandering Darcy, attempting to elope with Georgiana, asking for the living after turning it down, and those only his greatest offenses.
Which brought Darcy’s gaze to his writing desk, a furnishing he was pleased to have as Miss Bingley had previously placed him in a room too small for one, necessitating that he write his letters in the parlor.
Upon his arrival, Darcy had prepared a letter for his man issuing a renewed order to locate the missing Mrs. Clegg, Miss Bingley and even Wickham, and raised his budget for hiring men to do so.
The hour was too late for the missive to go to London today, but Darcy would see it posted tomorrow.
It aggravated him that the letter was the best he could do to alleviate Elizabeth’s worry.
But unable to do any more for now, and satisfied with his cravat, at least, he bid his valet good evening and went down to dinner.
The following day after breakfast, before indulging in a ride to Goldfinch Cottage, found Darcy at his room’s writing desk again, attempting to focus on his correspondence.
He’d neglected them shockingly of late but felt a renewed urgency to review a list of suitable candidates for the once again vacant position of rector in Kympton, knowing Lady Catherine had a similar list with many of the same names for consideration to fill Mr. Collins’ vacated position.
Darcy didn’t believe he and his aunt would select based on the same qualities, but he wanted to get his pick before she did.
He selected a widower who had two young children and wrote to his man asking for more information on the gentleman and the possibility of an interview.
Offering to pay for the journey, he suggested the curate come to him in Hertfordshire, to be put up at the inn in Meryton.
London wasn’t far, but until the banns were read, and he married Elizabeth and saw her safe in Pemberley, Darcy didn’t wish to leave Netherfield.
That was, if the Bingleys would have him, and they’d said they would.
That letter penned, Darcy descended the home’s grand staircase to the welcome, cheerful chatter of women. He quickened his pace, somehow certain Elizabeth was among them, to be rewarded by her upturned, smiling face.
“Mr. Darcy,” Miss Kitty cried as he reached the entrance hall floor and bowed. “You’ll never guess what has happened. Mr. Carter has returned, and he says our home is ready now. Papa says that because the banns have already been read and Mr. Carter has a home ready for me that we may marry.”
“You have my good wishes,” Darcy said, hardly able to tear his gaze from Elizabeth to do so.
“If he knew coming back would end Papa’s ridiculous rules, my George would return, too. All we know is that Mr. Carter said he has a home.” Miss Lydia muttered. “George could say that too and then Papa would have to allow the banns to be read for us.”
But Wickham would be lying, Darcy thought. And allowing the banns amounted to giving permission.
Miss Kitty said rather quietly, “Mr. Carter does have a home. You know Uncle Gardiner and Papa checked.”
Miss Lydia angled her face away and up, acting as if she didn’t hear, which apparently was not surprising to the Bennet family as no one paid her any heed.
Mrs. Bingley, lovely and graceful as ever, stepped forward and gestured down the hall. “We’re headed to the green parlor to plan the wedding and the breakfast, Mr. Darcy. You’re welcome to join us.”
He took in the array of women. There was no sign of Miss Mary, who would obviously rather visit with Gavin than go over plans for her sister’s wedding, but all five other Bennet women stood before him.
Mrs. Bingley, serene and glowing, even with Bingley rooms away attending to his correspondence as he usually did after breakfast. Mrs. Bennet, appearing surprisingly calm.
Miss Kitty’s wide grin. Miss Lydia, arms folded across her chest and mulish.
And then there was Elizabeth, at the back of the group, a few paces removed, gazing at him with love in her eyes.
“There is nowhere I should rather be than in the parlor with all of you,” Darcy said, meaning it.
“He means in the parlor with Elizabeth,” Miss Kitty whispered to Mrs. Bingley, overly loud.
“Hush, Kitty,” Mrs. Bennet said. “The only words I want to hear from you are to be related to attire, flowers, and food.”
“For my wedding,” Miss Kitty squealed and headed down the hall in the direction Mrs. Bingley had indicated.
The others followed, leaving Darcy and Elizabeth to trail behind.
He offered his arm, though the walk would be short. “Have they selected a date for the wedding?”
“It will be Saturday morning.” She looked up at him, eyes bright. “The day before the first banns are read for us, and for Gavin and Mary.”
Darcy lay a hand over the one she rested on his sleeve, engulfing her soft fingers in his larger ones. “Three weeks. Then, might we go to Pemberley? Georgiana is still in London with Mrs. Annesley, working with her tutors. We’d have the entire house to ourselves.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks pinked. “But certainly, Georgiana will come up for the wedding?”
“And then go back. Richard and Anne can take her. Richard wrote that after they marry, they’ll reside in London.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Miss de Bourgh wrote Mary the same. I believe they plan to marry in London. I thought, perhaps, Mary, Mr. Murphy and I might ride down with you?”