21. Chapter Twenty-One #2
“Tonight she remains in her room,” Darcy said. “Tomorrow, she will go North.”
Mrs. Hurst’s lips parted. No argument emerged.
“Bingley,” Darcy continued, “I will not ask you to choose between your sister and your friend. I will say that Miss Bingley is no longer welcome at Pemberley.”
Bingley gave a short nod. “I understand.”
Mr. Hurst cleared his throat from near the sideboard. “Might leave with her.”
Everyone turned.
He blinked back at them. “Louisa and I. Simpler. The lame horse’s replacement is here, and there is no further cause to delay.”
Mrs. Hurst sank back into her chair as if her husband had, for once, offered a contribution of such usefulness that she could not decide whether to be grateful or alarmed.
Bingley looked between Darcy and Hurst. “I will speak with Caroline.”
“Not now,” Darcy said. His departure and the lame horse had delayed the lady leaving, but both were now resolved.
“No?”
“No.”
Darcy crossed to the bellpull and rang.
The footman came quickly, perhaps having waited nearby after hearing uneven voices from within.
“Send Brisby to my dressing room. Have fresh clothes prepared. Tell Morton I require a horse ready within half an hour.”
The footman hesitated. “Tonight, sir?”
“Yes.”
Georgiana stepped forward. “Fitzwilliam, the rain—”
“I have ridden in rain before.”
“Then I am coming,” she replied.
Darcy wished for speed, and he could not accomplish that with his sister in tow. “No.”
“You cannot go alone.”
“I can.”
“What if Miss Bingley sets another trap while you are gone?”
“She is not leaving her room before morning.” After that, she would be gone.
“What if you are waylaid by geese?” It was a desperate sally but he loved her for it.
Bingley made a strangled sound.
Darcy, unwillingly, remembered the road and the indignant bird planted in the lane. It was the last thing he wished to find amusing.
Georgiana stepped forward. “Then I shall go with you.”
“No.”
She did not retreat. “Then I shall follow tomorrow.”
He looked at her. “Georgiana—”
“I do not wish to remain here.” Her voice shook slightly. “Elizabeth is my friend. She asked you to come. I should like to see her as soon as I may. And Lydia!”
Mrs. Annesley came to her side. “If Miss Darcy travels with me, there is no reason she cannot make the journey safely.”
Darcy hesitated.
Bingley spoke before he could answer. “I must go to Netherfield in any case. I have delayed long enough and will have to face Miss Bennet eventually. Mrs. Annesley and Georgiana may travel with me after you have gone ahead. They will be perfectly safe.”
Darcy looked from one to the other.
“You are certain?” he asked.
“I am,” Bingley replied. “Netherfield will be opened before they arrive. Mrs. Nicholls will see to everything.”
Georgiana held his gaze. “Please.”
The word was quiet, but there was more resolve in it than he had heard from her in years.
At last he inclined his head.
“Very well. You will travel with Mrs. Annesley and Mr. Bingley tomorrow. Brisby shall attend you.”
Relief crossed Georgiana’s face so plainly that it pained him.
“Thank you.”
Darcy addressed the footman.
“Half an hour.”
“Yes, sir.”
When the man departed, Bingley crossed to Darcy.
“I have changed my mind—I am coming with you. The ladies can come along with the servants.”
“No.”
Bingley frowned. “You cannot refuse everyone.”
“I can when everyone is wrong.”
“I have business in Hertfordshire too.”
That stopped him.
Bingley straightened, a rare firmness entering his face. “If you ride to Longbourn, then I ride with you as far as Netherfield. Or to Longbourn itself, if you will have me. I have delayed long enough.”
Darcy studied his friend. The easy smile was gone. So was the habit of waiting for permission.
“No.”
Bingley blinked. “No?”
“Please remain and travel with Georgiana.”
A flush rose along Bingley’s cheeks. “Darcy, I cannot delay again. That is precisely how matters came to this pass.”
“This is not the same.”
“It feels remarkably similar.”
Darcy sighed. “If Miss Bennet’s regard has survived these months, a few more days will do little to alter it. If it has not, arriving beside me tomorrow rather than later will not restore it.”
Bingley’s jaw tightened. “That is poor comfort.”
“It is not meant as comfort.” Darcy lowered his voice. “Georgiana cannot remain here, and I will not entrust her journey to anyone else present.”
Bingley’s attention shifted toward the closed hall.
Darcy continued. “Mrs. Annesley will accompany her, but ladies traveling without a gentleman can be attract all sorts of mischief. I require someone we both trust. Someone who will not manage her, speak for her, or make her feel she is a burden.”
Understanding replaced frustration in Bingley’s face.
“You trust me with her.”
“Yes.”
The answer silenced him more effectively than argument.
Darcy stepped closer. “Bring her safely to Netherfield. Give her time to rest. Then go to Longbourn and speak to Miss Bennet properly. Not because I direct you. Because you have decided what you mean to do.”
Bingley looked down briefly, gathering himself. When he raised his head again, the firmness remained.
“I would have gone today.”
“I know.”
“I am not very practiced at waiting for the right reason.”
“No.”
“But I can do this.”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Hurst spoke. “Charles.”
He turned.
She looked toward the closed hall, then back to her brother. “Go with Miss Darcy.”
That single concession cost her something. Darcy saw it. So did Bingley.
“Thank you,” Bingley said.
Then he faced Darcy once more. “You had better not fail.”
Despite everything, Darcy almost laughed. “Nor you.”
After he left, the room became active in a manner bordering on disorder.
It was selfish, perhaps, to ask Bingley to stay.
Georgiana went to fetch a small traveling case despite Darcy insisting she need not concern herself with packing that evening, already speaking of what would be required for the journey.
Mrs. Hurst departed to find her husband’s valet and perhaps to avoid seeing her sister.
Mr. Hurst asked whether anyone wanted the remaining cakes and, when no one answered, took one for the corridor.
Darcy remained alone for the first time since entering the room.
He drew Elizabeth’s letter from inside his coat and unfolded it again.
Come to me.
Rain struck the windows. Wind pressed against the house. Pemberley, which had been so full when he left that morning, now felt emptied of the one presence he had most wished to find.
No.
Not emptied.
Waiting.
He folded the letter once more and held it until Brisby arrived.
“Sir?”
“Clothes for riding. Dry coat packed. Pistols.”
Brisby’s brows rose slightly. “A long journey, sir?”
“Hertfordshire.”
“Tonight?”
Darcy placed Elizabeth’s letter back into the inner pocket of his coat, close against his heart.
“Tonight.”
He would change horses wherever the road permitted and would sleep in brief, useless intervals while the next horse was saddled. Darcy planned to be at Elizabeth’s side as soon as possible.