Chapter XXXIV
Before returning home, Darcy made himself attend to one important errand.
As he mounted the familiar steps of Bingley’s residence, he found himself reflecting that he had faced Mr. Bennet with considerably less uneasiness. Asking for a daughter’s hand had been a straightforward matter. Renewing a friendship one had nearly destroyed required rather more courage.
The butler admitted him immediately. “Mr. Darcy.”
“Is Mr. Bingley at home?”
“He is, sir. If you would follow me.”
The drawing-room door opened. Bingley stood by the window with one hand resting upon the sash.
At the sight of Darcy, genuine pleasure crossed his face before a trace of awkwardness succeeded it, and his hand dropped to his side.
Their last meeting had not been an easy one.
Though they had parted without bitterness, neither had forgotten it.
Darcy spared them both the uncertainty. “Charles.” He extended his hand.
Bingley’s shoulders loosened. His smile returned at once, and he crossed the space between them in two eager strides. “Darcy.”
Their hands met warmly. Bingley clasped Darcy’s a moment longer than form required, then released it with a small, almost relieved laugh.
They sat. Bingley settled on the edge of his chair, knees angled towards Darcy, while Darcy took the seat opposite.
For a few moments, they spoke only of ordinary matters.
Bingley adjusted his cuff twice and once glanced towards the window as though the weather had suddenly become deserving of study.
Then he drew a breath and rubbed his palms over his knees. “I could not go. Not with Ca…”
Darcy interrupted. “There is no need to justify it. I understand. Truly.”
Bingley’s mouth tightened briefly. He nodded, lowering his gaze, then looked up again with visible gratitude. “So, how is Miss… how is the family?”
“They have had better days. But that solution I spoke of – now there is a plan.”
Bingley’s brows rose. He shifted closer to the edge of his seat. “What is it?”
“The family will move to my Ramsgate property. They will start anew. Miss Lydia does not deserve to spend the rest of her life paying for one youthful mistake merely to satisfy society. She deserves the opportunity to begin again. She is just a child.”
Bingley sat back slowly. His fingers closed around the arm of the chair, and he stared at the carpet before him as though the pattern might arrange his thoughts. “Move? I would never have thought of that.”
“In fact, you gave me the impetus to think of it.”
“Really?” Bingley straightened at once, surprise brightening his face. One hand lifted from the chair arm, as if he meant to point at himself, before he thought better of it.
“Yes.”
Bingley considered this. “And what will happen to their home?”
“Nothing, for the moment. Mr. Bennet – or even I – can keep an eye on it. Later, perhaps it can be rented. Ah, there is a thought. Yes, I will discuss it with Gardiner.”
Bingley tilted his head, his questioning look immediate.
“Mr. Gardiner, their London relation.”
“The one in trade?” Bingley asked, lifting one shoulder in a tentative shrug.
“Yes. I had to reevaluate my stance on people in trade. He is a very decent man.”
Darcy took a deep breath.
“Today I also visited Longbourn.”
Almost unconsciously, Bingley leaned forward. His hand, which had been moving against his knee, became still. “Oh? What for?”
“I called upon Mr. Bennet.”
Bingley frowned thoughtfully. “I see.”
“He gave his consent.”
“My congratulations – but…” He stopped, his brows drawing together. “Consent?”
Darcy’s smile broadened almost imperceptibly.
“For my marriage.”
Silence settled between them. Bingley blinked once, then again. His lips parted, but no sound emerged. “Your marriage? … You are to marry Miss Bennet?” He sprang from his seat so abruptly that the chair legs scraped against the floor.
“Miss Elizabeth has done me the honour of accepting my hand.”
For perhaps five seconds, Bingley did nothing except stare. Then his entire face lit with delight. He took one step towards Darcy, stopped, threw both hands outward, and laughed in pure astonishment. “Miss Elizabeth… Right. When? How? What are you saying?”
“I see I have succeeded in making you speechless.”
Bingley stepped back, raking one hand through his hair before letting it fall. “I scarcely know whether to congratulate you or her.”
“I recommend congratulating us both.”
“Why?” Bingley demanded.
“What kind of a question is that?”
Bingley paced two short steps towards the hearth and wheeled back, pointing at Darcy with incredulous emphasis. “You! Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley! You are getting married… and you are tying yourself to a family with… troubles.”
Darcy did not answer immediately. A quiet smile appeared. “I love her, Charles. I love her so completely that nothing matters.”
Bingley’s raised hand fell slowly to his side. The amusement faded from his face, replaced by wonder. “Nothing?”
“None of it matters more than Elizabeth.”
Bingley sank back into his chair. He leant against it, exhaled, and passed a hand over his face. “You shame me. You really love her?”
Darcy smiled from ear to ear.
Bingley stared at him for another heartbeat, then slapped both hands upon his knees and rose again, laughing. “You rascal, I never knew.” He caught Darcy briefly by the shoulder, giving it an affectionate shake. “Come, I need a drink. Let us go to my study. You had better tell me everything.”
“I confess…” Bingley said, shaking his head. “After everything you told me – Hunsford, Lambton, Wickham – I scarcely dared imagine matters could end so well.”
“Neither did I.”
The warmth between them returned so naturally that, for a moment, it seemed the painful conversation of several days earlier belonged to another lifetime.
Before either gentleman spoke again, the door opened.
Miss Bingley entered. She stopped upon seeing Darcy. “Mr. Darcy.”
He rose and bowed. “Miss Bingley.”
She looked from one gentleman to the other. “I hope I am not interrupting.”
“Not at all.” Darcy remained standing. “In fact, you arrive at an appropriate moment.”
Something in his manner made her suddenly attentive.
“I have just informed your brother that Miss Elizabeth Bennet has accepted my proposal.”
The colour left Caroline’s face.
She appeared likely to lose her balance. One hand reached instinctively for the back of a chair, and she remained there until she recovered sufficient composure to speak. “Miss… Elizabeth?”
“Mrs. Darcy the day after tomorrow.”
She lowered herself slowly into the chair. “You proposed to Miss Eliza? Surely, sir, it is a joke.”
A silence followed.
At length Caroline raised her eyes. “Mr. Darcy… May I speak plainly?”
“You may.”
“Surely, after the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Miss Lydia…”
Darcy put his hand up. “You are acquainted with Miss Lydia’s circumstances?”
Caroline hesitated.
Darcy turned to Bingley. “You told her?”
Bingley tried to speak.
“I told you those things in confidence.” His voice had become noticeably colder.
Bingley looked down.
For several moments Darcy said nothing. “I see.”
The disappointment in those two words was more severe than any anger might have been.
He looked back at Caroline. “What you know concerns the honour of a young lady and the happiness of an innocent family.”
She shrugged. “They are nothing to me.”
“Miss Bingley, if you ever want to be in my and my family’s company, I suggest you rethink that statement. I have just told you that I am marrying into that family.”
The room became perfectly still.
“I have devoted every effort these past weeks to preserving Miss Lydia’s reputation. Should that confidence be broken…”
He paused.
“… should I learn that a single word has found its way into society from this house…”
His gaze rested first upon Caroline, then upon Bingley.
“… you will find yourself excluded, not only from my acquaintance, but from that of my wife, my sister, and every member of my family and friends.”
There was no heat in his voice. Only certainty.
Caroline lowered her eyes. “You have my word.”
“I sincerely hope I may rely upon it. Is there anyone else who knows?”
She shook her head.
His expression softened only slightly. “I should regret being disappointed.”
He turned once more to Bingley. “There is one final matter.”
Bingley listened intently.
“After tomorrow, Miss Bennet will become my sister.”
He allowed the words to settle.
“I once presumed to direct your happiness. I shall never do so again.”
Bingley’s expression became grave.
“If your feelings remain unchanged and you mean to do something about it, you will be welcome in her company.” Darcy smiled faintly.
“If they do not, then let us restrict our acquaintance to the club, and speak of this no more. I am sorry it has come to this, but my loyalty to my new family must come first.”
Bingley looked at him for a long moment.
“Mr. Darcy, you are not suggesting that Charles pursue Miss Bennet?” Caroline stood.
“We should have never interfered,” Darcy said.
“But…”
“Caroline, cease. You have done enough.”
“You cannot marry that girl. They have nothing. They are nothing.” She exclaimed.
“They will be Darcy’s relations, Sister.”
“Oh, I cannot stand this. You are both mad. I wish we never had gone to Hertfordshire!” She turned and stormed out of the room.
Bingley looked back at Darcy. “I apologise for her. You know perfectly well what my answer is.”
“I hoped I did. Our wedding takes place at Darcy House in two days.” Darcy reached for his gloves. “You may give me your answer simply by attending.”
Bingley needed no further invitation.
“I shall be there.”
Darcy nodded once. He shook Bingley’s hand once more and quietly departed.
***
Darcy was tired after his day, but he was looking forward to arriving home. Elizabeth had promised to wait for him there, and the thought had been a pleasant one throughout the journey.