He held out his hand expectantly. “I shall see that the key gets returned to Mrs. Nichols. After I see to Mr. Collins.” He still did not trust that Caroline had not locked the clergyman inside the room. With the window painted shut and no connecting door, the poor man would be trapped inside until Mrs. Nichols unlocked the room the following morning.
“No harm has been done.” With a scowl, Caroline dropped the key in his palm. Tugging on Louisa’s arm, she said, “Come, let us find another amusement. Perhaps Miss Mary is tormenting our guests in the music room.”
“I do not know which is worse: the assault on my ears or staying here and risking another dance with a local,” Louisa said.
When had his sisters become so high and mighty?
Tucking the key inside his pocket, Bingley noticed Darcy returning his way. Alone. Oh, drat! No Miss Elizabeth. No freedom for Bingley to talk to Miss Bennet or secure her next dance.
Not having experienced irritation to this degree before, Bingley hardly knew what to do with it, but he would burst if he did not do something! If only he could dispatch his friend as easily as Caroline had rid herself of Mr. Collins.
Bingley stilled. A crazy idea had popped into his mind—a harmless plan which would give him just enough time to secure Jane’s next dance if he acted quickly. He nodded at Darcy. “You decided not to dance?”
Darcy grunted in reply. He had done his best to give an impression of an aloof, taciturn, proud man since that first night at the Meryton assembly. This disagreeable behavior began to grate Bingley’s nerves, especially when he knew his friend to be more gentlemanly than that. It would serve him right to be set down a peg or two. “Caroline told me something interesting about my study…” Bingley began only to stop himself. If he told Darcy that Mr. Collins was in his study, he would never get Darcy to go to that room. He grabbed another name, the first one that crossed his mind. “… and Mr. Wickham.”
The effect was instantaneous. Darcy’s shoulders stiffened and his demeanor hardened. “Wickham would not dare to show his face here.”
Bingley hated to distress his friend. What a poor choice he had made. Attempting to soothe the feathers he had ruffled, he said, “I cannot help but think that some great misunderstanding is at the root of your breach. If only you would speak openly with each other, perhaps you could clear up the matter and resume your friendship.”
Bingley did not know what had transpired, but he hated all forms of conflict. It pained him to know the two childhood friends had cast aside their good opinions of each other to become enemies.
Darcy’s eyes hardened. “Is he here? In your study?”
Bingley felt his eyes widen and his head shake, but he stopped himself before his tongue revealed the truth. This was the opportunity he had been looking for, and he had come so near to wasting it. The dance must be close to ending.
He did not need to lie outright to get Darcy to go to his study. A vague reply would suffice. No harm would come of it. Really, it was an innocent plan. While he did not hope that Darcy would tarry long in Mr. Collins’ company, it might just give Bingley enough time to secure Jane’s next dance.
His decision made, Bingley shrugged his shoulders and allowed Darcy to believe what he would.
Darcy’s reaction was as perfect as Bingley had prayed it might be. Speaking through gritted teeth, he said, “I shall rid us of him.” Without another word, he left.
Bingley gasped at his easy success. Just as quickly, he groaned in guilt. Lies of omission were still lies. He had manipulated his closest friend—something Bingley never did!—and the wretchedness consuming him did not allow him to celebrate his success. He had to tell him the truth.
He chased after Darcy, gaining the bottom of the stairwell just as his friend disappeared down the hall at the top of the landing. Foot on the first step, ready to run to gain Darcy, Bingley heard his name being called.
Stopping with a groan, he looked over to see Mrs. Nichols twisting her hands in her apron. “Mr. Bingley! I do not suppose you have seen Miss Bingley?”
The key! Bingley pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to his housekeeper.
“What a relief! One must never leave the private rooms open during a ball, and I regret to inform you that one of the maids admitted to leaving Miss Bingley’s bedchamber door unlocked. Now I may secure your study and her room.”
Bingley looked at the top of the landing. Darcy was gone. He was likely inside the study by now.
Then Bingley imagined a bevy of gentlemen standing at the edge of the dance floor waiting to snatch Miss Bennet away from him. He could not blame them. She was the handsomest lady present. But he would have his dance!
Eager to place himself at the greatest advantage, he returned to the ballroom, his mind and heart too full of Jane Bennet to yield space to the consequences of what he had just done.
CHAPTER9
Darcy ground his teeth and clenched his fists, his surroundings a blur as he stomped down the hall. How dare Wickham appear at Bingley’s ball? Had the man no sense? What did he hope to gain? If he attempted to exploit Darcy or any of his friends again, the only prize he would get would be a busted nose. Darcy had been patient and charitable for Georgiana’s sake, but Georgiana was not here, and Wickham had no claim on Darcy’s lenience. Not anymore.
Shoving the study door open, he closed it behind him with a firm click. He did not want their conversation overheard by anyone.
A feminine squeak and a shuffle by the cold fireplace made Darcy’s blood boil. Dear Lord, not only was Wickham here, but he had already lured a lady into a compromising position. “Wickham!” he demanded.
“Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy froze, chilled to the bone. He did not need a candle to recognize that voice.
