Darcy handed over his hat and cane. “Thank you, Bellamy. I shall not interrupt them. Would you bring me some coffee in my stud—” His attempt to avoid Miss Bingley was foiled when she appeared in the hall, accompanied by a footman and evidently on her way out.
“Mr Darcy! How good to see you. I have just spent a delightful hour with your charming sister.”
He smiled and bowed, intending to wish her good day, but she was not so easily deterred.
“Have you seen Charles since we last spoke?”
He gritted his teeth. “I am afraid not.”
“Louisa and I had hoped that we had persuaded you to have a word with him.”
“He has not been spending time in any of his usual haunts, but I am sure he will show his face soon. You cannot still be worried he is chasing after Miss Bennet?”
“I should like to say not, but now that I know her mother is in town as well, I should not be surprised to discover there is some scheme afoot to entrap him.”
“Mrs Bennet is in London?”
“Oh yes! She has been since before Christmas, apparently—all but followed us here when we left Netherfield it seems to me. Jane Bennet would have it that she came to nurse a sick friend—if you can believe that of such a thoughtless, hysterical woman.”
A hideous idea formed in Darcy’s mind. “No, frankly, I do not believe it.” Neither could he easily believe that Bingley could be fool enough, blackguard enough, to be dallying with a married woman, yet the timings gave him every reason for suspicion. “I shall speak to him, madam. Depend upon it.”
“Thank you, Mr Darcy. You are very good to us.”
He gave a curt nod and walked away into the house. She did not need to know he was not doing it for her. Therewasa small part of him that hoped to save an old friend from getting himself into dire trouble, yet the chief of his concern was not for any of the Bingleys; he thought only of Elizabeth. He might not be at liberty to entertain any intentions towards her, but he did feel a real interest in her welfare, and whilst it was in his power to prevent it, Bingley would not be permitted to ruin her family’s reputation.
10
A CHANCE TO PLAY THE GALLANT
Darcy left his house the next day with a greater sense of purpose than he had felt the first time he went in search of Bingley. On that occasion, he had only meant to warn him that Jane Bennet was in town, that she was apparently enamoured of him, and that he ought to take care to stay out of her path. Today, he intended to find out exactly what Bingley was about. He sincerely hoped it was not what it seemed.
He was for Grenier’s Hotel on Jermyn Street. It was Bingley’s preferred place of lodging whenever he was not staying at Hurst’s and was most likely where he had been going the day Elizabeth spotted him coming out of Boodle’s. He arrived to a busy scene. Several people and a couple of hall boys were loitering in the hotel lobby, there was a loud rumble of chatter coming from the public dining room, and at least half a dozen men were reading their newspapers in the private lounge. Bingley was not among any of them.
Darcy was still waiting to speak to the porter, who was occupied with another guest, when a gust of cold air and a rash of angry whispers drew his attention to the front door. A familiar jolt of pleasure assaulted him upon seeing that Elizabeth hadentered the hotel, though it was quickly followed by suspicion that she—and her companion, whoever the lady was—should be so far from her uncle’s house again, and once more in the same location as Bingley. Hard on the heels of that sentiment came resolve. It mattered not why she had come. As much as he had enjoyed their encounter in Hyde Park, it would not do to encourage her. Or himself. Darcy turned back to the desk and pretended not to have noticed her arrival.
That did not stop him from straining to hear what she was saying, particularly since it was being said heatedly, her voice little above a whisper but her tone clearly agitated. The temptation to turn and look was formidable and grew nigh on unbearable when her companion raised her voice enough to be heard and said?—
“Your mother is right—you areexceedinglyvexing.”
Despite his best attempt, Darcy could not make out Elizabeth’s reply.
“Can I help you, sir?” the porter asked.
Distracted, Darcy muttered good day, withdrawing a calling card from his inside pocket and handing it over. “I am looking for Mr Charles Bingley. Could you tell me which room he is staying in?”
“Of course, sir. One moment.” The porter leafed through his book.
Darcy told himself not to turn around. Then he told himself again. And again.
Then Elizabeth’s companion said, “Would that you had shown this much compassion for her when your cousin proposed!”
He turned around, the word ‘proposed’ ringing in his ears and his heart racing. Elizabeth looked angry and embarrassed—an expression he had often seen on her in Hertfordshire whenever one of her relations had performed some obscene newimpropriety. This was no relation Darcy had ever met, however. The woman was of middling years, handsome, and very finely attired. Elizabeth’s aunt, perhaps, though she did not appear to be relishing her niece’s company and wore an expression of pure exasperation.
“Mr Darcy?”
He snapped his attention back to the porter. “I beg your pardon. What was that?” But his eyes had already stolen back to Elizabeth, and he did not attend to the man’s answer.
“I must bid you good day, Miss Bennet,” the older woman said tersely. “Unless you intend to follow me all the way upstairs?”
