“Do dispose of your airs, Miss Bennet. If my cousin has separated his friend from your sister, then he has done him a very great service. Onlyconsiderthe situation of your mother’s family.”
“Anne!” Darcy admonished. No matter that it was true, there could be no justification for saying it to Elizabeth.
“Nay, I am serious, Darcy. The want of connexion could not be so great an evil to Mr Bingley as to you, but it is hardly to be overlooked.”
He stared at her, appalled. He might havethoughtit all—indeed, these were the very reasons he had not put an end to his torment and offered for Elizabeth months ago—but aloud, it sounded as vain as it did insolent.
“Madam, you are unjustly severe. We both made the acquaintance of Miss Bennet’s relations yesterday, and they were evidently people of fashion andgood manners.” Darcy emphasised the last part, wishing rather than believing his cousin would take his meaning. He could scarcely credit it when Anne, so far from perceiving his warning, persisted instead with more censure.
“A fashionable wardrobe does not a fine connexion make. What of Mrs Bennet? Will you tell me her behaviour would not be a cause of repugnance to any potential suitor? She betrays a total want of propriety as do most of Miss Bennet’s sisters.”
“Younger sisters, eh? Troublesome lot,” said Wickham, drawing upon himself the full force of the displeasure that Darcy was prevented by good breeding from directing at his cousin.
“You have said quite enough.” Controlled fury made his voice harsher than usual, and he noticed with grim satisfaction its effect on Wickham. “Leave this place before I am minded to act upon the particulars laid out in my last letter to you.”
Wickham blanched, and when Darcy said nothing more and only glowered at him with seething hatred, he hastily left. Only once he had gone did Darcy realise that so had Elizabeth. He ought to have been pleased, but what he felt was an iron band tighten about his chest that prevented him from catching his breath.
“As forthatone—MissElizabeth Bennet,” Anne went on, pointing at the spot where Elizabeth had been. “Sheseems to think that the inferiority of her connexions, her condition in life—so decidedly beneath our own—can be made up for by impertinence and flirtation. She?—”
“Anne, that isenough!I do not wish to hear you speak another word against any of the Bennet family. You are in no position to disparage anybody. Your shocking behaviour these past few days has surpassedanythingI have witnessed from Elizabeth’s relations. Would that you displayed halfhersense and disposition rather than exaggerating your ill health and taking to your bed like a spoilt child. What on earth were you hoping to achieve?”
Anne paled further still, if such a thing were possible. “You… Youlove?—”
“Is anything amiss?” asked Lady Lucas. She crept into her own room as though entering a bear pit, wringing her hands together and almost cringing as she awaited an answer.
Darcy closed his eyes briefly in mortification. He prided himself on his impeccable manners and reviled such weaknesses as a quick temper and uncivil tongue. Never would he have believed himself liable to raise his voice in another person’s house, scaring away their guests and reducing them to cowering pleas of conciliation.
“I beg your pardon for the disturbance, madam,” he said solemnly.
“I thank you, Lady Lucas,” Anne interrupted. “I am gladyouare able to see how I suffer, even if not everybody is so perceptive. I do not feel at all well. I wonder if you could help me back to my chamber. I need to rest else I fear I may swoon again.”
* * *
Darcy could scarcely remember the order of events that followed. All he knew was that for the second day in a row, dusk found him seated before a dying fire, nursing his manifold indignities over a tankard of disgusting mead at the George and Crown. The warmth that had enveloped him the previous evening as he reflected on Elizabeth’s teasing had, this evening, been replaced with dismay as he recalled the abhorrence with which she had regarded him at Lucas Lodge. Where she had gone afterwards, he knew not. He was doing his damnedest not to think about it, without much success.
Wickham, at least, was on his way to another regiment. Darcy cared neither where nor how much it had cost him to bring it about. All that concerned him was that the man was away from him and anyone connected to him. Darcy wished he had seen to it the last time he was in Meryton, though he had no reason to suspect then that he would be back so soon.
Anne remained abed at Lucas Lodge. He was certain she was not any more unwell than she had been these past seven-and-twenty years. Whatever had ailed her that long had not killed her yet, and he sincerely doubted thirty miles of good road would have finished her off. He could not, for the life of him, fathom her purpose in feigning illness.
Neither could he reconcile himself to her selfishness. Quite apart from her indifference to the fact she had made him look an absolute fool, rendering all Elizabeth’s relations decorous and refined by comparison, her performance had put paid to all his hopes of returning home in time for Christmas.
He had been sorely tempted to leave without her, yet he had been required to deal with Wickham first, and daylight had waned long before Anne’s histrionics. Thus, after Georgiana’s terrible year and despite all his promises to her, his sister must now pass the holiday without him. He sipped his drink, grimacing as he swallowed it.
He had offered his manservant the chance to return home, though Carruthers had refused, excellent man that he was. He regretted he had not persuaded Anne to offer Mrs Jenkinson the same opportunity. All that remained for him to do was send expresses to Georgiana and Bingley, informing them of his delay. This he was attempting to do in the George and Crown’spublic saloon, for there was no table in his room and only one candle by which to admire the want of it.
He picked up his pen to add a line or two to what he had written already. Rereading his own words recalled him to Miss Lucas’s earlier that afternoon.‘Perhaps it was not clear she was in love.’He twirled his pen back and forth between his finger and thumb.
In the tumult of the moment, when his mind had been wholly engaged in attempting to keep Georgiana’s name out of the conversation and away from Wickham’s notice, this allusion to Jane Bennet’s affections had confused him greatly. But, of course, nobody here knew about Georgiana and Wickham. They had all understood him to be speaking of Miss Bennet and Bingley.
“Ah, there you are, Mr Darcy. May I interrupt you for a moment?”
Darcy looked up and was astonished to see Mr Bennet standing before him. “You may, sir.” He folded away his letter and gestured for him to sit. “What can I do for you?”
Mr Bennet sidled into the opposing bench and fixed him with a smile that he disliked partly because he knew not what diverted the man and partly because it reminded him of Elizabeth.
“It is more what I can do for you,” Mr Bennet answered. His gaze wondered about the dingy parlour. “It has come to our attention that for reasons outside of your command, you are facing the prospect of spending Christmas Day on your own in thisdelightfulestablishment.”
Darcy was unsure how to answer. He certainly would not be going home, but as to where else he might pass the day, he had not considered. Lady Lucas had not issued an invitation for him to join her.
