Chapter 25
Darcy followed the Bennets into the church and sat beside Elizabeth in the family pew.
As usual, he ignored the hushed whispers and gaping stares.
Despite Kitty’s misdeeds, she had been permitted to attend, and she kept her head bowed, as did her sisters.
The service proceeded as usual, and Darcy lent his voice to the hymns and well-known prayers.
When the vicar made the morning announcements, one struck with stunning effect.
“I publish the Banns of Marriage between Mr William Collins of Westerham and Miss Charlotte Lucas of Meryton. If any of you know cause, or just impediment, why these two persons should not be joined together in holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. This is the first time of asking.”
Knowing that Mr Collins had maliciously spread the story of Lydia’s flight before leaving the neighbourhood, Darcy was now shocked to learn that the despicable parson had stayed long enough to pay his addresses to Miss Lucas and receive Sir William’s consent.
He seethed with contempt at this confirmation that the Lucases had repeated the story, prompting the neighbours to snub the Bennets in public.
He could well understand Mr Bennet’s wrath upon hearing this news. His heir had secured a match within hours of ruining his only relations. While that gentleman maintained a stoic facade, Elizabeth stared agape, her sisters turned pale, and her mother resorted to her vinaigrette.
Unfortunately, news of this betrothal would now overshadow Darcy’s courtship with Elizabeth.
Once the service had ended, Darcy escorted Elizabeth into the aisle, where they met the Lucases.
“Good morning, Mr Darcy,” Sir William said with a formal bow.
Darcy returned the greeting with as much civility as he could muster, and congratulated him on his daughter’s betrothal. Miss Lucas had already walked away with her brothers and sisters, without bothering to greet Elizabeth and her family.
“We are all exceedingly proud of our dear Charlotte, are we not, my dear?” Sir William said to his wife.
“Exactly so,” Lady Lucas said, and the couple moved on without acknowledging the Bennets.
He also greeted the Harringtons, the Gouldings, the Longs, and Mr Robinson. Everyone was kind and respectful to him, while simultaneously refusing to acknowledge the Bennets…in church, after worshipping the Lord.
Darcy was at a loss to understand this contradiction. He’d been certain that he would succeed in lending his consequence to the Bennet family. As Elizabeth clung to his arm, he longed to take her far away from this inhospitable place.
Yet, he kept his wits about him. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t care if these people spoke to him or not, but it was now of monumental importance.
“Good morning, Mr Darcy,” someone said as he made his way up the aisle. He recognised Mrs Finch, the innkeeper’s wife. “A fine morning, is it not?”
“Made even better by my fair companion,” he replied, gesturing to Elizabeth. “Did you hear that Miss Elizabeth and I are courting?” Naturally, there was no possibility that she could have known, but since announcements were the order of the day, he seized the opportunity.
“Are you, indeed? What a fortunate lady,” she said in a bland tone.
Despite the lady’s insincerity, he was fairly certain that the rest of the neighbourhood would soon hear about his courtship with a Bennet daughter.
“Good morning, Mr Darcy,” Mr Fletcher said, standing beside his sombre wife, with whom Darcy had danced at the assembly.
He shook the butcher’s proffered hand. “Good morning, Mr and Mrs Fletcher.”
Mrs Fletcher dipped a curtsy. “What an excellent young man you are, Mr Darcy,” she said in a tremulous voice while her husband nodded his agreement.
Although Darcy had no more than a passing acquaintance with the couple, he appreciated their kindness. After greeting each of the Bennets, the Fletchers withdrew.
By the time he reached the door, everyone was staring at him, bowing properly but maintaining absolute silence. Ladies whispered behind their fans and the men murmured under their breath. Fortunately, the vicar exchanged warm greetings with him and the Bennets and wished them all a blessed Sunday.
Once outdoors, no one glanced in his direction. To his profound regret, he had vastly overestimated his influence in this community; only the vicar and the Fletchers had acknowledged the Bennets.
He quickly escorted Elizabeth and her family to their waiting coach and advised Mr Bennet that he would follow them to Longbourn.
Upon entering the house, Darcy was shown to the drawing room and left alone. Once again, silence loomed, and he felt like an outsider intruding on the family’s privacy. He paced over the carpet, wondering what ought to be done, and considered returning to Netherfield.
But no, he wouldn’t abandon the Bennets, as their lifelong friends and neighbours had brutally done. He would stay and lend his support. He knew for certain that Charles Bingley would do the same.
Within a few minutes, Elizabeth entered with Miss Bennet.
“My father sends his apologies for neglecting you, Mr Darcy, but he is attempting to console my mama. As you might imagine, she was overset by the snubs we received this morning. Mary is sitting with Kitty, who now has a full understanding of what she might have prevented.”
“I have no wish to intrude on your family’s distress, Miss Elizabeth. If you prefer, I will withdraw to Netherfield.”
“No, Mr Darcy,” she said. “You must never think that we are ungrateful for your unfailing support.”
“Indeed, especially after our lifelong friends have abandoned us,” Miss Bennet said. “You and Mr Bingley are our only true friends.”
Elizabeth’s forlorn countenance tore at Darcy’s heart. He longed to spirit her away from here, but acknowledged that doing anything so rash would make matters infinitely worse for the rest of her family. Desperate to speak privately with her, he suggested a walk outdoors.
“Yes, Lizzy, you have been confined inside far too long,” her sister said. “Go out and walk with Mr Darcy.”
She agreed, and once they had donned their coats and hats, they set out towards the garden.
They walked together for some distance, and when they reached the dormant flower beds, they continued onward in silence. Now that Darcy was finally alone with her, he knew not what to say or how to console her.
“Charlotte Lucas is my closest friend,” she said in a sombre tone. “But I suppose that’s at an end now that she has accepted Mr Collins.”
Darcy had witnessed their lively conversations on a few occasions and understood the loss she must be feeling. He had felt the same when George Wickham had gone his own way. “I’m sorry you’ve lost her friendship.”
They walked on without speaking until she finally broke the silence. “This is my favourite path.”
Darcy recalled meeting her in this same area. “Do you walk here most mornings?” he inquired.
She nodded. “Sometimes I’ll go to the spinney or the woods, but this path has fewer obstacles.” After another extended silence, she spoke in a quiet voice. “You must think me a poor companion, Mr Darcy. Walking usually clears my head, but today clarity evades me.”
He could well understand, especially after the disastrous morning. “I could never think poorly of you, Miss Elizabeth, even if you said nothing at all. I always enjoy walking with you.”
She slowed her steps. “I don’t recall ever walking with you before.”
He silently berated himself for another careless error, yet this time, he made no attempt to correct himself. “On the contrary, I have walked here with you twice and once at Netherfield.”
A crease appeared in her lovely brow. “Has Mr Bingley told you of our walks together?”
Deciding that it was now or never, he continued, “No, that was me. After you left Netherfield, I couldn’t bear to be parted from you and sought you out.”
She stopped walking and turned to face him.
“Then when Wickham arrived, I came again to warn you about him.
“No,” she said, backing away. “That’s not what happened.”
“I’m telling you the absolute truth, Miss Elizabeth,” he said in earnest.
When her eyes turned suspicious, he knew he must confess everything. “Do you believe in the occult?”
“Like witches and wizards?” she inquired, to which he nodded. “No, do you?”
“I didn’t used to, but it recently intruded into my life; mine and Charles Bingley’s. Do you remember that morning in this grove when I said that I wasn’t Bingley, that I was Darcy?”
“No, but I recall when Mr Bingley did so.”
Despite her resistance, he continued, “Through some form of the dark arts, he and I changed places. At the time, I didn’t mean to tell you about it and covered for my slip by saying that I was just being morose. I appeared and sounded exactly like Charles, but it was me.”
She shook her head. “Impossible.”
“It happened the night before you came to Netherfield. You must have noticed that something was amiss, because Bingley suddenly became more reserved and Darcy was unfailingly amiable.”
She averted her eyes. “Well…yes.”
“We told no one about it, except for Henry Hurst, who was with us when the switch happened. Who would believe such an improbable story?”
From her sceptical frown, he knew she was still unconvinced.
“When I came to warn you about Wickham, what I didn’t tell you was that the young girl he nearly absconded with was my sister.”
Gasping, she pressed a hand to her chest. “Miss Darcy?” she said in a hushed voice.
“I was able to prevent it, but if my other-worldly friend hadn’t warned me that danger lurked in Ramsgate, she would have run off with Wickham.”
“Other worldly?”
“An old, bearded man wearing a flowing cloak, like a wizard or a monk, appeared twice. Once to advise me that Georgiana needed my help, and again to warn me of my own arrogance and conceit.”
Her eyes flew open in shock.
“Unfortunately, he didn’t warn me about Lydia’s danger.”
“But you and Mr Bingley recovered her.”