Chapter Seventeen
Darcy awoke late the morning after the assembly, his mind foggy with a sense of unease.
Never had he enjoyed an evening of dancing so much, and he knew that he likely never would again.
He ought to be exultant that the scheme Richard had foisted upon him had worked so splendidly.
The picnic had shown the first cracks in Anne and Sir Sidney’s relationship, and after the assembly there could be no doubt in Darcy’s mind that his cousin had come to despise her suitor.
Richard had done a great deal of cajoling the last few days; he had incited the same teasing speculation in Bingley, and even the usually sensible Knightley.
Darcy’s three dearest friends made no secret of their preference for his future bride, and had spoken of his choosing Elizabeth over Anne as if it were a predestined certainty.
Indeed, nearly everybody who knew of their false courtship treated it as if it were reality.
And Elizabeth herself…. Darcy had lost all sense of what she must be thinking.
As fiercely as he wished to believe she had come to love him in return, he feared that she had done what he ought to have, and kept her wits about her.
It would be all the better for her if her heart remained untouched, for as much as Darcy wished to make his mark there, he was not at liberty to alter his course. It had to be Anne.
His cousin and sister were breaking their fast when Darcy at last emerged from his chambers, and he hesitated in the corridor beyond the breakfast nook. Georgiana looked forlorn, and he need not guess why. She had her heart set on Elizabeth as a sister.
Darcy could not face her, knowing that he had given her this pain to spare her the humiliation of Lady Catherine making her dalliance with Wickham public.
Neither could he bear to explain his reasons to Richard, who knew nothing of the blackmail.
Perhaps he would tell them one day, once he had made his peace with marrying Anne.
He was sure that he would, and he quietly slipped out the back door of the cottage, determined to pursue that precious peace of mind.
A ride would clear his head. He made the brief walk to the stables with his thoughts reeling too swiftly to comb through.
It was only once he was mounted on his horse and putting distance between himself and the village that his mind began to clear.
What assaulted him first was a heavy sense of shame at having taken the ruse too far.
He had indulged himself in a fantasy that could never be, and in the process he had raised Georgiana’s hopes, and perhaps even Elizabeth’s.
He hoped he had not cost Georgiana such a beautiful friendship, though if Elizabeth had come to feel half of what filled his own heart, she may wish to sever the acquaintance entirely.
And yet, he selfishly wished that her heart had been touched as his was, that he was not a fool who had deluded himself unpardonably.
It had all felt so real, the affection and the flirtation, the depth of understanding that existed between their minds.
Elizabeth evoked things in him that he never knew himself capable of feeling, from the joy of making romantic gestures to the surprisingly comfortable enjoyment of being in company with her.
The way they had waltzed before supper had been a smoldering torment, every moment delicious torture as he resisted the urge to take her in his arms and devour her. She had looked at him with such heat, such encouraging passion, and he had wanted her to feel what he felt.
And then at supper, seeing her so charming and graciously at ease with his dearest companions and her own; they all blended together so well, just as he imagined a family ought to do. It was natural and right, and he had let himself imagine a future full of such occasions.
The sense of loss he felt at knowing there could be no such future for himself and Elizabeth evoked a guttural groan as he urged his horse onward.
His despair felt insurmountable as he turned his thoughts to Anne.
He had scarcely noticed her last evening, beyond a vague sense of pity for her.
Sir Sidney had paid so much attention to Miss Denham that Anne was obliged to sit out, or stand up with her companion Miss Lovelace, for most of the dances.
It had never occurred to Darcy to dance with Anne himself.
Darcy could not reconcile the woman that spurned him and seethed with resentment toward her new suitor with the woman who had written him the love letters he had long cherished.
What had once given him hope now felt like a mirage, a distant memory belonging to some other man.
Every feeling they once aroused in him now connected only to the sparkling eyes and bewitching smile of Elizabeth Bennet, for she was the woman who had lit his very soul.
After an hour of riding, Darcy took pity on his horse and returned to Sandpiper Cottage, though his own spirits had not improved. Neither had the mood in the cottage. As Darcy entered the parlor overlooking the sea, he found his sister weeping in Richard’s arms on the sofa.
“Good God, what has happened? Georgie, are you unwell? Is there anything I can get you? Some water, or wine, perhaps.”
Darcy hastened to her side and hovered protectively.
Georgiana lifted her head from their cousin’s shoulder and dabbed at her face, gesturing for him to sit on the sofa beside her.
When Darcy did so, Richard got up and poured three brandys, bringing the drinks over with as serious a visage as Darcy had ever seen on him.
“Lady Catherine was here while you were out.”
Darcy’s stomach lurched. Since the very beginning of his engagement to Anne, he had kept his aunt’s blackmail secret from his sister to spare her any guilt or self-recrimination.
Yet both were written in her pained expression as she slipped her hands into his and attempted to calm her weeping gasps.
“Georgie, what did she say to you?”
“Nothing. I saw her coming through the window and I hid in my room like a coward, for we had a row at the assembly last evening, and I feared she wished to resume our quarrel.”
“What? You showed no signs of distress last evening.”
Richard gave Georgiana a knowing look. “You were right, he must have been too distracted by Miss Bennet to notice. But we must tell him all.”
“Tell me everything,” Darcy cried, still fearing the worst.
Richard took a deep swig of brandy and began. “I spoke with our aunt for a quarter hour; she was very cross to find you gone, Darcy, and I did not enjoy the interview one iota. She came to gloat, you see, for last night after the assembly, Sir Sidney Parker eloped with Miss Esther Denham.”
Darcy blinked. This was the last thing he expected to hear, though he knew there must be more, for Georgiana to be so aggrieved. He wrapped an arm around his sister and motioned for Richard to continue.
“Oh, our aunt was in fine form! So proud of herself! It was all her own doing, you see. She bribed Miss Denham with ten thousand pounds if she would compromise the wretch and detach him irrevocably from Anne. Though the old dragon was smug about her success, she was also quite put out at being driven to such measures, and she holds you accountable, Darcy. She asked me to inform you that the sum would be subtracted when she pays you Anne’s dowry. ”
“Ten thousand pounds!” Georgiana gasped. “You did not tell me it was such a vast sum!”
Richard shrugged. “No less would tempt the young lady. Our aunt had offered Sir Sidney the money first, but he refused outright, knowing Rosings to be a far greater prize—and of course this must have earned him considerable esteem from our cousin. Apparently you ought to have acted with greater alacrity to prevent such drastic measures, Darcy.”
“Drastic measures,” Darcy thundered, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. He calmed himself, sobered by the realization that he had now caused Richard pain, as well. “I had thought Miss Denham’s interest lay elsewhere. I am sorry, cousin.”
Richard sipped his brandy and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “She was merely a suitable heiress, candid enough to be interesting and pretty enough to pursue. In truth, Mrs. Knightley’s interest in making a match between us rather soured my enjoyment.”
“I doubt Anne will be so cavalier about it,” Darcy replied. “What did Lady Catherine say of her daughter?”
“Anne must be devastated, though perhaps she may be relieved. I cannot guess what goes on in the mind of such a creature, and our aunt did not say. I doubt she cares much. But I suppose you must… proceed.” Richard frowned at Darcy, his eyes crinkling in a sympathetic gaze.
“Yes, I must.” Darcy sighed, finally taking a drink from his own glass.
When he looked up, he saw that Georgiana’s glass was empty.
She was clenching it so hard he feared it might shatter, and then she finally slammed it down on the table before jumping to her feet with a tearful shriek.
“No! No, you must not! I cannot bear it, William! If you shall not ask me why I quarreled with our aunt last night, I will tell you, and you will hear me!”
Richard’s jaw fell slack, though his lips curled upward just a bit as he regarded Georgiana in astonishment. Darcy stood and reached for his sister’s hand, but she began to pace wildly, tears pouring down her face once more.
“I know why you agreed to marry Anne, William. And I do not care. Let her ruin me! Better that I bear the consequences of my actions than you and Lizzy!”
“What?!” Richard leapt to his feet and fixed Darcy with an accusatory gaze.
“She was blackmailing you all along? You told me you fell in love with Anne through her letters, not that Lady Catherine threatened our ward! Did you not think that as her other guardian, I had some right to know? Were you so eager to sacrifice yourself?”