Chapter 8
Darcy
Fitzwilliam Darcy made his excuses to retire early, claiming a headache. He disliked lying, or even exaggerating, but his head did begin to hurt as he contemplated once again Miss Bingley’s attitude and words.
At dinner, she had said, “Miss Eliza’s relationship with dear Georgiana certainly seems to be blossoming.
” When Darcy had said a few words of agreement, Miss Bingley had narrowed her eyes and said, “That may be pitiable, but hardly dangerous to dear Georgiana’s reputation.
However, if you should adopt the same sort of closeness…
oh, I should not like to see gossip emerging about your dear sister! ”
It was the same conundrum he had faced at the Meryton assembly.
What could Caroline Bingley, of all people, know about Wickham’s…
interference with Georgiana? Was there any possibility of any other gossip that could damage his sister’s reputation?
Was Miss Bingley threatening to launch a whisper campaign against his sister if he…
what? If he was friendly with Miss Elizabeth?
He would never allow Miss Bingley to compel him to do or say something abhorrent to him, and an attempt at blackmail would make him even less likely to cooperate with her schemes, no matter the threats.
It would be far better, he thought, to counter any tittle-tattle about Ramsgate with the truth about what happened between Georgiana and George Wickham, as abetted by the former companion named Mrs. Dorothy Younge.
On the other hand, Darcy had no way of knowing if Miss Bingley was threatening to spread gossip about Ramsgate, or about something else altogether.
It was no wonder Darcy’s head hurt. He slugged down more port than usual, changed into his nightclothes without bothering to ring for his valet, and laid down on the mattress of the comfortable four-poster bed.
On second thought, he got up and locked the doors to the hallway and to his private adjoining sitting room. Who knew what Miss Bingley was thinking? She seemed to have an unhealthy devotion to his estate, Pemberley.
On third thought, realising that, as mistress of the house, Miss Bingley would have access to keys to every door, Darcy rang for his valet and asked him to bunk down for the night in his chamber.
Shaking his head, Darcy said, “I apologise for this extraordinary request—”
“No,” Ryles said. “I think this is a very wise move on your part, sir. I do not like the downstairs chatter about the mistress.”
Darcy’s head shot up. “What is being said?” he asked.
“Permission to speak plainly?” At Darcy’s nod, Ryles said, “First, you should know that not one servant, not even Miss Bingley’s lady’s maid, likes or respects Miss Bingley.
All the local servants think very highly of the Misses Bennet, and the servants brought from London agree that they are kind and sensible, and the contrast makes the servants despise the mistress even more, because she is so nasty, for no reason, to the Bennets. ”
Darcy nodded. He often thought that servants tended to see character quite clearly, and what his valet had told him so far rang true to his own experiences.
Ryles continued, “As to the rumours and gossip, everyone has known for weeks that Miss Bingley wishes to be Mrs. Darcy, but today there has been some speculation about the lengths she would go to win the title. I heard a report from the mistress’s lady’s maid that she said to her sister something that sounded as if she would attempt to force you to marry her.
Whether she meant to stage a compromise or use some other method, nobody has heard a syllable; however, there is every reason to be careful. ”
“Very good, I thank you for the news. Please alert me if you hear anything more that might affect myself or my sister.”
“Yes, sir. I will be back in a quarter of an hour, sir, ready for the night.”
When Ryles returned, the two men arranged the long settee so that it blocked access to Darcy’s bed from any of the three doors. Darcy had brought in quite a few linens, blankets, and pillows for his valet’s comfort, and he was pleased to soon hear the man’s light snores.
But Darcy found it very difficult to lie still and get to sleep under these conditions.
His body longed to toss and turn. His mind seemed adamant about reviewing and re-reviewing fragments of the past few days, bits and pieces that might add up to indicating what Bingley’s dreadful sister was plotting.
And so it was that, more than an hour after midnight, Darcy was still awake and easily heard the distant shout of “Fire!” and was able to launch out of bed, wake up Ryles, and be shod and dressed and ready for action in less than a minute.
He exited his chamber and began to awaken all the other residents and issue orders to servants.
Darcy had felt, the past few weeks, ill-equipped to combat the vague threats of a woman, to combat the threat of gossip.
But combatting fire—Darcy instantly knew exactly how to fight this more obvious foe.