Chapter 5 Truth Be Told
“Darcy! I thought it was your rigid back I saw leaving Hatchard’s.”
Darcy slowed his pace but hesitated to turn to face his pursuer.
He had hoped to avoid the meeting altogether, believing Bingley was not in town given that his wife was supposedly in a delicate condition.
Either he was wrong or Mr Hurst’s conjectures had been faulty.
He had encountered Bingley’s brother on a rare visit to White’s and thought it strange that his friend had not mentioned such happy tidings himself in the one letter he had deigned to write since marrying Jane Bennet.
But on second thoughts, it could have been lost in the illegible part.
Hurst was usually a perceptive fellow; despite looking as though he was half asleep most of the time, very little escaped his notice.
Darcy turned and met Bingley halfway. His friend looked stunned to behold him, and he had to glance down at his apparel to make sure he had not sullied himself.
“What a pleasure it is to see you, Darcy. I was wondering whether you would ever leave Pemberley after you had secured yourself a wife and no longer needed to attend events in town. But I can see that you have been ill. I hardly recognised your gaunt-looking features. I pray you are recovered?”
“I am in excellent health,” Darcy protested. He had not been ill and was certainly not looking gaunt.
“Capital! Are you by chance going to Princess Lieven’s at home tonight?”
“Yes,” Darcy replied while pondering Bingley’s flippant remark about his wife.
He must have been informed of their estrangement by now, even though he had not mentioned Mrs Darcy in the one letter he had sent.
Netherfield was but three miles from Longbourn, and Mrs Bingley and her sister had always been close.
He had expected an upbraiding for tossing her out into the cold, no matter how much the callous treatment had been deserved.
Could Mrs Darcy have concealed the truth about her perfidy?
Marriage had not made Darcy any more loquacious, nor had it made him less inclined to scowl. Bingley, however, had always been inured to his glares.
“Splendid. Jane is anticipating seeing her sister. Oh, there she is, looking ready to depart. We shall see you this evening, Darcy.”
Darcy followed his friend’s gaze and bowed to Mrs Bingley, who stepped out of the haberdasher, saving him from replying to Bingley’s remark.
The aforementioned husband was now running towards his wife to guide her over puddles and business cards left by the horses.
Such solicitousness had been Darcy’s prerogative for a couple of short months.
How content could a man be, though, when he was married to a Bennet sister?
Bingley was impossible to bring low, but if anyone could achieve it, it would be a Bennet.
Was Mrs Darcy in town? No, it must have been one of her other unruly sisters Mrs Bingley was anticipating seeing.
Mrs Wickham sprung to mind and made him shudder, while the pangs in his breast grew.
Mrs Darcy was not brazen enough to flaunt her downfall in town before all and sundry.
He involuntarily clutched his chest before he continued on his assignment to collect his sister. Annoyed, stunned, horrified.
Unfortunately, the seamstress had a mirror, and he could not resist stealing a glance at his reflection.
Bingley was correct; he hardly recognised the man looking back at him.
How could he not have noticed the marked changes in his appearance?
The renovations must have taken a greater toll on him than he had realised.
He had definitely lost weight, and he needed to spend more time out of doors because his complexion had an unhealthy greyish hue.
Darcy returned home with a new resolution added to his daily routine. There would be no more skipping meals, regardless of how little pleasure he derived from eating, and he would indulge in a morning ride whenever the weather allowed.
It was damn inconvenient Bingley was invited to Princess Lieven’s.
He had not expected him to be welcome in the highest circle; yet he no longer had any reason to avoid him.
Darcy had expected Bingley to side with Mrs Darcy, regardless of who was at fault.
He should have known Bingley was his friend, as he had proved in their previous dealings, but the calamity with Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mrs Darcy had made him wary of trusting anyone at all.
Another fault Darcy could blame Miss Bennet for, if he allowed himself to think of her—which he did not.
Darcy was unusually on edge when he entered Princess Lieven’s house with his sister on his arm a few hours later.
It was a crush, which might allow him to evade Bingley—not because he wanted to avoid him specifically, but his wife was another matter entirely.
She reminded him of someone he wanted to purge from his mind.
The only redeeming quality of the evening was that he would not be expected to dance as there was not any dancing at this event.
Darcy and his sister had been there for the required two hours and were on their way out when he finally happened upon Bingley. Had he not been considered a gentleman, he would have cursed this stroke of misfortune. To make matters worse, Mrs Bingley was attached to her husband’s arm.
Mrs Bingley was on her toes, as if she was trying to gauge whether he was hiding someone behind him. He was not. It was only him and his sister. Exactly as he preferred it.
“Is my sister not with you this evening, Mr Darcy?” Mrs Bingley asked with confusion written on her face.
Darcy had to school his countenance so as not to frown in puzzlement at her question. “No. I believe you know as well as I that she is at Longbourn,” he replied stiffly.
“Oh, we must have just missed her, then. What a stroke of misfortune because I am greatly anticipating seeing her after such a long separation. We have not been together since Twelfth Night.”
Darcy forced his risible muscles to contract into something akin to a smile. He took his leave with a quick bow and escorted his sister to their waiting carriage.
“Why would Mrs Bingley say, ‘we just missed her’?” Georgiana mused aloud.
“I do not know. Mrs Darcy can come and go as she pleases, wherever she is.”
Darcy thought that would be the end of it, but he should have known his sister better.
“Why do you suppose Mrs Bingley has not seen her sister for months? It seemed as if she believed Elizabeth was with us.”
“Perhaps she leaves Longbourn on occasion to give the appearance she is still attached to the Darcy family. I do not have her watched. She is free to do whatever she wishes.”
Why would he feel this pain in his chest so severely at the possibility of her travelling the country to visit her friends and family?
An image of Elizabeth taunting him, laughing at him, came unbidden before his inner eye.
I shall conquer this. I must for my own sanity.
If only Georgiana would cut short her Season…
Two days later, the knocker was hammering against his door. For a minute he feared it might be Colonel Fitzwilliam. None other than he dared knock with such force.
His surprise was immense when it was Bingley who was shown into his study, banging his fist onto the desk and hovering over him with daggers shooting from his eyes.
“Where the hell is Elizabeth?” he bellowed, right in Darcy’s face.
Darcy sat back. Not because he was intimidated but because Bingley had spat on him. It was not done on purpose, but that did not make the experience any more pleasant.
“I do not know.”
“You do not know where your own wife is?” Bingley did nothing to hide his incredulous expression.
“I do not have a wife,” he replied calmly, whilst wondering what tales Mrs Darcy had told her family.
“Is Elizabeth dead?”
Darcy shook his head. “Not that I know of, but you are probably better informed than I.”
Bingley sat in sheer bafflement, although Darcy had not offered him a seat.
“Please explain clearly how you could not know of your wife’s whereabouts.”
“Simply because she is no longer my wife. As you probably are aware, she left Pemberley in December on my orders. I have not seen or heard from her since, which is also on my orders.”
“What could she have possibly done to displease you so?”
Darcy let out a bitter laugh. Obviously Mrs Darcy had not informed her relations about anything at all!
“You would not like to know.”
“Believe me, I would!” Bingley retorted angrily.
Darcy studied his friend intently. He had matured since his wedding and grown into his own man, judging by the way he was standing up to him. He had to admire his staunch protectiveness, despite its misplaced nature.
“I caught her in flagrante delicto with Colonel Fitzwilliam in my library.”
“I cannot believe it!” Bingley cried.
In his friend’s defence, neither had Darcy at first glance. The entire event had taken on a dreamlike haze in his mind, which he interpreted as him being well on his way to forgetting all about it. But facts did not lie.
“I saw it with my own eyes. They were embracing. The colonel was kissing her neck while his hands were roaming—” Bile rose in his throat, and he could not continue.
Bingley rose abruptly to pace back and forth in front of the desk. His hand ran through his hair, making it stand on end, before he slumped back into the chair with a dejected sigh.
“She tried to convince me that she had believed it was me, but the colonel left me in no doubt, should my eyes have betrayed me.” Darcy explained further to make sure Bingley understood completely.