Chapter 31
Darcy did not return to Longbourn, and neither did he wait for Bingley at Netherfield.
He waited no longer, in fact, than the time it took his coachman to arrange for the hire of two fresh pairs of horses from the nearest inn, before heading directly back to London.
He left a note of apology for Bingley. It was bad form, and he would need to explain himself more fully when he next saw him, but he could not sit and listen to his friend waxing lyrical about his evident success with one Bennet sister, while he himself battled with feelings of such moment for another.
He did not speak to Georgiana before turning in for the night, either.
It was late, and after a day of reproofs from Fitzwilliam, he doubted she would wish to see him anyway.
Instead, he went straight to his room, taking a late supper tray there and reading and re-reading Elizabeth’s letter while he ate, and then again, and again, while he ought to have been sleeping.
Upon first reading it, he had all but leapt for joy at her admission of love.
Surely, nobody wrote such a letter or risked their reputation delivering it via such untrustworthy hands if they did not hope for something to come of it?
She is too generous to trifle with me. She would not put such sentiments to paper if she had any doubt in her mind as to feeling them.
Yet, the journey from Longbourn to London had been long enough for doubts to encroach upon his happiness.
Nowhere in the letter was there any mention of a break with Hartham, or a change of mind on Elizabeth’s part, despite her admission that she now understood what marriage to him would be.
That she loved him, Darcy was more than willing—desperate, even—to believe, but he could not rejoice in that knowledge while he remained uncertain that she could ever be his, and her family’s celebrations were anathema to any such hopes.
He knew not what to make of it all, and his head and his heart were hurting from trying to guess.
He nevertheless refused to relinquish hope.
Long before dawn, he had resolved to see whether he might persuade Elizabeth away from Hartham and to blazes with the consequences.
He was unsure of many things, but he did know that a life spent wondering what might have been had he shown courage enough to fight for her would be insufferable.
He rose early, unrested yet sick of tossing and turning in his bed.
Arrangements were already in place for Fitzwilliam and him to return to Brighton the following day; thus, his early return from Hertfordshire meant he had a day at his disposal.
Impatient though he was to return to Elizabeth, he was grateful for the delay when he read the note Fitzwilliam had left.
His cousin had found Georgiana remorseful but without any real understanding of the extent of her folly beyond the distress of being caught and punished.
In his opinion, it did not seem beyond the realm of possibility that she would do exactly the same again given the opportunity or temptation.
Darcy set the note aside with a heavy sigh.
‘It is only the ladies like Lizzy and Jane who make any of it bearable,’ Mr Bennet had said.
How much more easily Darcy might bear it all were Elizabeth at his side!
What he would not give to see her, by example, mould Georgiana into a woman of equal sense and disposition.
Ignoring the ache that always accompanied the thought, he attended to his correspondence until it got to a more reasonable hour, at which point he summoned his sister’s companion to his study.
Mrs Annesley had been profuse in her apologies for having allowed her charge to engage in such scandalous activities under her nose.
More than once, she had offered to resign.
Yet, while Darcy and Fitzwilliam were vexed, they could hardly blame the woman, for they too had been under the same roof as Georgiana, and neither of them had been wise to her antics, sneaking out after she was meant to be in bed and apparently bribing one of the footmen with her pin money for assistance and borrowed clothes.
All that besides, she was hardly another Mrs Younge, who had actively schemed to put Georgiana into Wickham’s power.
All Mrs Annesley was guilty of was being a heavy sleeper.
He assured her again that they did not think her responsible for the mishap and decisively moved on to discussing his sister’s more stringent edification.
More direct discussion of the dangers of society, closer supervision, an increase in calls to women from respected families were all agreed upon.
‘Find yourself a wife and let her help you do this,’ was not suggested by either of them, though the weight of it, sitting unsaid in the air, made the whole meeting feel twice as onerous.
He was almost relieved, if wholly taken aback, when the door was thrown open and Saye appeared in the aperture, a finger pointed directly at him.
“For such a wealthy man, you are the very picture of intellectual poverty!”
Mrs Annesley, a consummate professional, acted as though nobody had spoken, though her colour was high as Darcy dismissed her and she hastily left the room. When she was gone, he turned to his cousin.
“What are you doing here?”
Saye sauntered in. “I am here to tell you that you are an idiot.”
“You hardly needed to bring yourself back from Brighton to say that much. You might have waited until I returned.”
“Eh, Brighton.” Saye went to Darcy’s sideboard and poured a drink. “I could not very well stay there forever. The lease was always going to come to an end at some point.”
“The lease is at an end?” Darcy said in alarm. “Why did you not tell me that before I left?”
Saye slurped his drink. “How is it your concern?”
“Half of my belongings are still there!”
Saye dropped into a chair and waved a hand to dismiss the notion. “Send a man to fetch them.”
“No, I will not send a man. I must go myself.”
Saye looked up from swirling the contents of his glass. “You must? Why is that?”
“I simply must. No matter. I shall stay in a hotel if necessary. Quite strange if you ask me, to end a lease before Michaelmas.” Why had Elizabeth not mentioned that the lease was soon expired? Had she assumed, perhaps hoped, he had no intention of returning to Brighton?
“You will travel for two days and spend a night in a hotel all for the privilege of seeing to your own small clothes?” Saye narrowed his eyes, but Darcy gave nothing up.
Saye took another noisy slurp of his drink.
“I daresay a hotel will be better than staying another moment in a cursed house, listening to the ghostly scratchings of an out-of-tune fiddle. Then again, you never did hear that, did you? Nor were you overly troubled by the bones in the walls or the eerie markings on the windows.”
Darcy shook his head distractedly and then, though he knew it would make him appear ridiculous, could not resist asking, “Did you speak to her before you left? Miss Bennet, I mean. You must have—to discuss closing up the house.”
“Do you think me a housekeeper? Of course I did not discuss such trivial things with her. I left it to my man, like a civilised person does.”
Darcy let out a breath but sucked it back in again when his cousin added, “I did see her, though. With Hartham. Unchaperoned, roaming about the town.”
Devil take it, why did I ask? “Did they…” He clamped his mouth closed, but when Saye simply sat staring at him expectantly and still vaguely petulant, he swallowed the last of his pride and asked, “Did she seem happy?”
“Why would she not be happy?” his cousin replied. “Her sister is safe, rescued thanks to yours truly—”
“You?” Darcy interrupted. “It was I who paid off her debts and escorted her home! It was me to whom Miss Bennet came for help in the first place.”
“And it was I who had to arm wrestle a prostitute to win back my grandfather’s snuff box after you and my gumboil of a brother left me there to fend for myself!”
Darcy could not defend himself there. He still had not heard the whole story of what happened after he and Fitzwilliam left Sullivan’s party. It sounded as though he would do better not to enquire.
“As I was saying,” Saye continued, “thanks to yours truly, Miss Bennet has much to be happy about. Her sister has been saved, her family are all in raptures about her marriage—”
“How do you know that?”
“Good grief, Darcy, can you not let a man finish a story?”
“No! How do you know her family are in raptures?”
Saye sniffed. “She mentioned it.”
Darcy’s chest tightened. He had tried to convince himself that Elizabeth’s family must be mistaken somehow about her engagement, but clearly, they were delighted by it—and she was pleased enough by their delight to be speaking of it to others.
It was as he feared: Elizabeth had wanted him to know that she loved him, but she was sticking with Hartham.
Quick footsteps brought his head up in time to see Fitzwilliam enter his study. He watched him cross the room and settle into a chair, saying to his brother as he passed him, “I heard you were here. Georgette is delivered back safely, then?”
“Yes, yes, I took care of her,” Saye replied impatiently. “Not that she deserved any such courtesy from me. It is the last time I put myself out for any of you, in fact. The three of you all deserve to dance the Tyburn jig.”
Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow. “Not quite sure what any of us have done to deserve such a fate, but might we men return to Brighton first? Would not want to miss Lady Foley’s ball at the end of the week.”
Darcy looked between his cousins in confusion, too numbed by misery to make sense of what either was saying. “Where would we stay?”
Fitzwilliam screwed up his face. “At the house.”
“We cannot. The lease is up.”
“Since when?”
“I do not know. Ask him,” he said, pointing at Saye, who shrugged.
“I did not say the lease was up presently. I said it was going to come to an end at some point. Happily, we have not yet reached that point.”
Darcy was instantly suspicious. “Fitzwilliam, what was that you said about Saye bringing Miss Hawkridge back to town?”
“Just that. She needed to be conveyed here but did not fancy driving the whole way in a phaeton, and since I was otherwise occupied with Georgiana and you, I volunteered my brother for the service.”
Darcy pushed to his feet and glared at Saye. “Have you been trifling with me? Because I tell you, I am in no humour for it.”
“No humour?” Saye sneered. “Did I seem in a humour to hear a damned fiddler in the middle of the night? Did I seem in a humour to have my eyes nearly burnt from my head by green fire? Florizel nearly choked to death on one of those bones, by the bye. Did I seem in a humour to watch that?”
Fitzwilliam gave a snorting chuckle. “Who told you?”
Saye made a disgruntled noise. “Georgette filled in the details, but it was Darcy’s Miss Bennet who let the cat out of the bag.”
“My Miss Bennet? Did…what?” Darcy asked.
Fitzwilliam peered at him closely. “Liven up, Darcy. She told him about our little hijinks.”
Saye tutted. “He is in a funk because I said that I saw Miss Bennet with Hartham, and that she was very happy and asked me to pass on her warmest regards.”
Darcy whipped his gaze back to look at him. “You said nothing of her regards.”
“Oh, did I miss that bit out? Apologies. I must have forgot.”
Darcy stared at his cousin. Saye was quite plainly wishing to avenge the bit of trickery they had perpetrated on him.
With Saye, it was always an eye for an eye, and he had listed three things that had been done to him.
Therefore, he would withhold three bits of information to avenge himself.
The lease was one, Elizabeth’s regards were another.
“What else?” he demanded.
Saye shrugged and turned to his brother. “Did you think Mother looked a trifle peaked when you saw her?”
“No,” Darcy interrupted. “There is more, and I know it. What more did you speak of with Miss Bennet? What have you left out? Or what have you said that was untrue?”
“I said nothing that was not true. She did say her family are in raptures about her engagement.” A slight smirk tried to break free on Saye’s countenance.
Darcy levelled a hard stare at him. “What else?”
“And she said she is not looking forward to telling them that it was all an unfortunate misunderstanding.”
Darcy’s breath left him and he sank into the nearest chair. “What?”
“They were never engaged,” Saye said blithely.
“Miss Bennet refused his offer. Said something about her being excessively conscious of having refused a previous suitor with vehemence she regrets and not wishing to repeat her mistake. Regrettably, Hartham is clearly the sort of bottlehead who requires a more direct approach. He mistook her entirely and announced an engagement that did not exist.”
Darcy sat still, remembering that afternoon.
He had left Elizabeth looking thoroughly kissed—lips red, cheeks flushed, and eyes fixed on him with something like wonder—and thought his future had just been written in stone.
An hour later, it had seemed as though it was crushed to dust; that he had imagined her pleasure; that he had lost her again and this time forever.
Now, he was at liberty to dwell on that memory, knowing that their kiss had meant every bit as much to her as it had to him. And dwell he meant to do, at least until he got to Brighton and gave them both fresher remembrances to reflect upon.
He felt a slow smile spread across his face. “You did squeal like a stuck pig when those bones fell out of your chimney though, did you not?”
Fitzwilliam hooted with laughter, which only made Saye pout harder. “You looked like a stuffed pig after you ate your body weight in cream ices the last time Miss Bennet refused an offer from you,” he grumbled. “Benjamin and Gerald will be praying she says no again.”
Darcy paid him no mind; he had it on excellent authority that Elizabeth liked his physique perfectly well as it was. He continued grinning as he promised, “I shall be sure to send Hartham their way.”