Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Darcy watched Elizabeth walk away until the path curved and he could no longer see her.
With each second, two emotions surged to ever greater heights within: anger and determination.
Elizabeth might not know how to act, but he did.
She might struggle to hope, but he did not.
He understood why she did; the blame must be shared by her father and his aunts and uncle, Lady Catherine most of all.
To be sure, Darcy reluctantly understood Mr Bennet’s reservations, but the man had made a decision that would profoundly affect his daughter’s happiness and well-being forever without any pause or even asking him what he was doing to address his family’s objections.
Darcy could and would act; he would ensure that he and Elizabeth had their happily ever after.
His return to Netherfield was as fast as it could be without him actually running. Once there, he learnt from the butler than Bingley had already left for Longbourn; everyone else was in the drawing room.
“Very good,” Darcy said to the servant, relieved to know his family was all in one place. It would make his task that much easier. “Please have my valet informed to prepare to depart as soon as possible.”
He entered the drawing room with the storm inside reaching its zenith. It would take effort to contain it, but for Elizabeth’s sake, he would. Nothing would be served by telling Lady Catherine and Lord Romsley what he presently thought of them.
“There you are, Darcy! Where have you been?” Lady Catherine demanded.
“We are leaving. All of us. This morning,” he said in a tone that would brook no disagreement.
He refused to respond to his aunt, even when she repeated herself.
To no great surprise, there were many exclamations, but he overlooked them.
“This has gone on far too long. You may not have noticed, but Bingley has—yet again—left his house before breakfast. His house, to which none of you were invited. I refuse to put him in the position of having to host this disgusting family reunion any longer.”
“Nephew, have a care,” the earl warned.
“He is right, Father,” Fitzwilliam said.
“I concur,” Bramwell added. “It was ill-advised, at best.”
The countess said something to Lord Romsley that Darcy did not hear, and he continued to pretend that his other aunt was not present. Anne sat silently beside her mother, only the pink spots on her face and lowered chin suggested she was paying attention to the conversation.
“Where are you planning to go?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“Pemberley. I have business in London too, but first, I must go home.” Georgiana was there, and he wished to talk to her.
Lady Catherine made a loud noise that could only be called a snort. “You must think me a fool if you believe you can trick me this way. You may get into your carriage and even take the road north for a short while, but then you will return here and allow yourself to be trapped by that girl!”
I do not believe you to be a fool. I know you are, if you think I shall live my life according to your wishes!
Bramwell laughed, presumably at her words, which earned him a reprimand from his father. At the same time, the countess said, “Really, Catherine, you take this too far.”
“Your son, the future Earl of Romsley, wants to marry a solicitor’s daughter,” Lady Catherine said. “You can have nothing useful to say of proper comportment. My daughter was raised to follow her duty.”
“Do not speak to my wife in that manner! As for Bramwell, you will keep your opinion to yourself,” his uncle said.
Fitzwilliam caught Darcy’s eye and grimaced, his expression one of sympathy, as he so often appeared when they were in company with Lady Catherine.
Bramwell sighed loudly and said, “With each word that is spoken, we are only proving that my cousin is correct. We have been here—and together—too long.”
“Are you including yourself in that?” the colonel said with feigned humour.
“Naturally,” Bramwell replied.
At the same time, Lady Romsley said, “It is time for us to return to town.” To her husband, she added, “Do you not agree?”
He nodded.
“I am resolved to remain where I am until Darcy agrees to marry Anne and returns to Kent with us!” Lady Catherine stated.
Darcy wondered if she was as fatigued of saying the words as he was of listening to them. From the expressions worn by everyone apart from Anne, he suspected they were thinking likewise.
“I am going to Pemberley,” he repeated. “I shall ensure Bingley knows that I would not blame him if he had you forcibly ejected, should you refuse to leave on your own.”
This naturally caused several rather indignant responses, although he had the impression his uncle did not object as much as he was attempting to sound. The earl said, “Catherine, return to Rosings. Anne looks like she needs to be home. It is what you want, is it not, Niece?”
Anne nodded meekly; Lady Catherine glared at her.
“Margaret and I shall go to town,” Lord Romsley added. “Bramwell will go with us. I have not forgotten that we have a serious conversation to finish about his future. Fitzwilliam, what will you do?”
The colonel looked between his brother and Darcy before saying, “I shall go to Derbyshire, if my cousin does not object.”
“Good thinking, Brother!” The viscount grinned at him. “You can ensure he does not sneak back to Meryton to fall under—”
“Bramwell!” the earl barked, ending his eldest son’s joke.
At another time, Darcy might have found the scene humorous; at present, all he could do was think of the tasks ahead of him and his desire to begin them at once.
Accordingly, he reiterated that he expected they would all be in their carriages and driving away from Hertfordshire by noon, then left the room.
The morning following Elizabeth’s conversation with Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley arrived at Longbourn soon after breakfast.
“I had to meet with the steward,” he said.
Glancing at Elizabeth, he gave an awkward laugh that left her wondering if Mr Darcy had told him of their conversation the previous day.
“There always seems to be so much to do. Not that I mind!” he added hastily.
“Indeed, I find that the more I become familiar with the business of managing an estate, the more satisfying I find it.”
“And I am very sure you excel at it,” Mrs Bennet said. “Netherfield has never had a more deserving master. Is that not right, Jane?” Regardless of Jane’s engagement, their mother continued to push the couple together just as she had when she had been anxiously awaiting the moment he would propose.
Thank goodness she never noticed Mr Darcy’s interest in me!
Elizabeth reflected. As horrible as her present circumstances were, they would be so much more difficult if she had to explain to her mother why he had gone away yet again.
With her attention on the upcoming wedding, her mother had not even commented on Mr Bingley’s unexpected guests other than saying she supposed there was some important family business they needed to discuss with Mr Darcy.
Since she had not learnt to think well of him—which she undoubtedly would have the instant Elizabeth announced their betrothal—she had no time to spare on speculating about his activities.
A short while later, Mr Bingley and Elizabeth were able to speak alone. They sat in one corner of the drawing room near the window, while her sisters chatted with Mrs Bennet.
“I hardly know what to say.” His voice was quiet, but not quite a whisper, and he glanced towards the ladies. Elizabeth did likewise and saw that Kitty was speaking with particular animation.
“I believe they are safely occupied and will not intrude,” she said. “Please tell me whatever you think I should know.”
He sighed and nodded. “There is really very little. It is only that…when I returned to Netherfield last evening, I found the house empty. Darcy and his relations are gone. I understand from the butler that they left at about noon. He—Darcy that is—left a note for me, but he only wrote that he was going to Pemberley and offered an apology for how his family had shown up without any warning whatsoever. That, obviously, is not a matter I care about. Well,”—his features briefly contorted as though he was carefully considering the point— “I suppose I did care, but Darcy had no role in it.”
“I understand,” she said before he could continue.
“I am sure you are very glad to have your home to yourself again. For the moment, that is. Jane mentioned that your sisters and Mr Hurst would be coming soon. When do you expect them?” She asked not out of interest, but rather to divert his attention to anything other than Mr Darcy.
Sure enough, her ploy worked. Since the reason for the Hursts and Miss Bingley’s journey was to celebrate his engagement and wedding, he spoke of Jane and his happiness for as long as Elizabeth could bear to listen.
Fortunately, her patience ended just when her father returned from making a call.
As was his habit, he stuck his head into the room to inform them he was at home, only opening the door wide enough to permit it.
When he spied her, he paused, then walked over to her and Mr Bingley, who leapt to his feet.
“Good morning, sir!” Mr Bingley said jovially. “You see me trespassing on your hospitality yet again. Or should I say your excellent wife’s?”
Mr Bennet chuckled. “If you behaved any differently, I might wonder at the depths of your attachment to my Jane. You may return to my eldest daughter. I have need of Lizzy.”
Mr Bingley grinned and did as his future father-in-law suggested. Elizabeth watched him cross the room before turning to her father. She arched her brow in question.
“Give me a quarter of an hour, then meet me in my book-room,” he said.
Still, she did not speak; she nodded and did her utmost not to show that she disliked the prospect, suspecting he wanted to talk about Mr Darcy.
Beyond that, he must know she was not in good spirits.
Although he had been gone before breakfast and had not seen her after her sleepless night—the second in a row—he could not miss how pale and listless she was.
Her mother had spoken of it earlier, and Elizabeth had claimed a headache.
Fortunately, Jane had distracted their mother with some piece of neighbourhood gossip, ensuring she did not enquire into her second daughter’s indisposition further.
When Elizabeth and Mr Bennet were in the book-room, a tray of tea and biscuits sitting on the desk between them, he regarded her steadily for a long moment before speaking.
“You are unhappy,” he said. “I suppose you spoke to him?”
“Mr Darcy?” she asked, although there was little doubt whom he meant. She was delaying, dreading he would insist she recount the interview in detail, not realising how each second of memory was like a stab to the very core of her being. Only after he nodded did she continue. “Yesterday.”
“Did Mr Bingley bring some message from him? Is that why the pair of you were sitting alone when we all know he prefers not to leave Jane’s side, even when it is necessary?
Ah, to be young and in love.” He rolled his eyes, but if he thought Elizabeth was in a mood to laugh or joke, especially about love, he was much mistaken.
“No. He wanted to tell me that all his guests departed yesterday morning. Are you satisfied, Papa? He is gone, and you need not worry about upsetting Lord Romsley.” There was no hiding the bitterness in her tone, and one of Mr Bennet’s eyebrows rose up his forehead.
Once upon, a time, Elizabeth had wished she could move her brows independently as he did; currently, she dreamt of plucking out each of the hairs in his one by one.
It was possible, nay, it seemed certain, that she resented him for forcing her to break with Mr Darcy. If they found a way to reunite, she might forgive Mr Bennet.
“You are unhappy,” he said again, this time with what sounded like genuine sympathy. It almost brought tears to her eyes, but if she let them form, he would seek to comfort her, and that she could not abide. “I had not expected to find you quite so miserable, but I can see that you are.”
She shrugged and kept her gaze on the teacup she held in her lap. It remained full of milky tea, but she could not bring herself to drink it.
“I had no notion your feelings for him were…this substantial.”
With a bark of humourless laughter, she glanced at him and said, “They are. Indeed, they are everything they should be for a man I expected and wanted to marry.”
She heard a deep, slow sigh, but otherwise, there was a long moment of silence before he spoke.
“I am sorry, Lizzy. I trust you take my lack of teasing as an indication of my sincerity. What choice did I have? No, do not answer,” he said, although she had done nothing to suggest she would.
“I had to act in a manner I believed was in the best interest of you and our family.”
Again, neither of them spoke. A single thought occupied her mind: Mr Darcy was gone.
What should she make of it? That he can no longer bear to be near me when I have told him there is no future for us?
Dear Lord, how could I have done so? She knew why, but it seemed so improbable that she had managed to stand across from him and say the words.
Yesterday, she had wanted to remember everything about him, and she had succeeded; at present, she could recall only too vividly the devastation in his eyes as she informed him she would not marry him without her father’s approval.
Clearing her throat, she placed the dish on the desk and stood. “Do not concern yourself. I shall recover in time, once I remember I am not formed for unhappiness.” She offered him a small, meaningless smile and left the room.
It was not entirely a lie. If she was forced to, she would find a way to be content without Mr Darcy, but she preferred another explanation for why he had departed so hastily that he had not even waited to speak to his friend.
Dare I hope that even now, he is working to convince his family to change their opinion of me and our union?
She did, of course; she could not do otherwise, knowing the sort of gentleman he was and accepting the depths of his affection for her.
During his absence, which she prayed would not be of long duration, she would speak to her father of Mr Darcy, to teach him to know the man she had come to love with everything that she was.