With a snarl, Darcy pushed himself to his feet, deciding that coffee was not strong enough and brandy was required.
Fitzwilliam followed him to the sideboard. “Let us say, for the sake of argument, that I believe you—you do not admire her, and that is not why you are protecting her. But neither can you profess to be protecting Georgiana’s reputation. The flirtationsof a middle-aged country matron are hardly going to sink the granddaughter of an earl with a fortune of thirty thousand pounds—and, I might add”—he jabbed Darcy’s shoulder—“a brother who is presently the darling of theton. So I ask you again, what possessed you to tell her?”
Darcy banged the decanter down on the sideboard and whipped around to face him. “Because she accused me of detaching Bingley from her sister without regard for the sentiments of either, of ruining her sister’s happiness, of abusing her confidence to justify it, of, as far as I can tell, being devoid of every proper feeling! Was I to allow her to continue to hold me in such low estimation—I who have done so much to keep this affair secret for her sake?”
Fitzwilliam rocked back on his heels. He looked confused and a little shocked. “I see. You did it to teach her a lesson.”
“Of course not! I—” Darcy stilled, a horrible sense of shame settling over him. Pained by the discovery of her indifference and determined to acquit himself of wrongdoing, ensuring that Elizabeth knew it washerfamily at fault was precisely why he had told her. Of all the paltry, mean-spirited motives! He closed his eyes. “Damn.”
“How did she take it?”
He shook his head. “Badly. I never saw anyone so shocked.”
Fitzwilliam gave him a look that said, ‘I am not sure what else you expected’, and turned to the sideboard to pour his own drink.
Darcy wandered dazedly back to his chair, asking himself the same thing. It was difficult to credit now, but he had given no consideration to how Elizabeth might receive the crushing intelligence beyond being justly chastened and eager to beg his forgiveness. He had stood at the window, too preoccupied with his own affront and revulsion to sit with her and deliver the news gently.
Not until she announced her intention to go had he troubled himself to look at her—and then he had beensurprisedto observe her distress. Surprised! He had brought an innocent young lady—one whom he had, but four-and-twenty hours earlier, been ready to vow to cherish and protect—into an entirely inappropriate situation, without friend or protector, and informed her of a grossly improper incident and her family’s imminent ruin, and expected her prevailing sentiment to be regret for having inconvenienced him.
Apparently, hewasdevoid of all proper feeling! Except, he did not think he would ever stop feeling the remorse that had skewered him when she began to cry.
Fitzwilliam returned to his seat. “I am sorry. I did not mean to add to your troubles. I was trying to provoke you into admitting an affection, but clearly this is more complicated than I realised. What will you do?”
“Help, if I can.”
“Help…Miss Bennet? I meant what will you do about the rumours. Given your feelings on the matter…well, I would have thought you were eager to distance yourself from it all.”
“I am—more than you can know, but I have told her I shall do what I can to avert a scandal, and I mean to try.”
“To make amends?”
Darcy grimaced. He was profoundly sorry to have given Elizabeth such distress yesterday and sincerely regretted the disdain he had shown towards her aunt and uncle the day before; he wished hecouldatone for both. But she had every reason in the world to think ill of him, and he had no appetite for courting absolution from a woman who despised him. After so many months spent convincing himself that she was not for him, it ought to be easy to persuade himself of it again and walk away from the whole affair.
Indeed, that was what he had fully intended to do once he had told her the truth and cleared his character. Only, then she had run from his house in tears, and it had felt as though she had ripped a part of him away and taken it with her, and he had known instantly that he could never let her go. He had ridden after her without a thought to what he would do when he caught up with her, his mind fixed solely on the need to alleviate the misery he had caused. Finding her faint with distress had only deepened his shame; finding that her mother had disappeared had only given him greater cause for concern.
Did he think helping her would earn him her forgiveness? He had no idea. Had he any choice but to try? Absolutely none. It was irrational, and painful, and demeaning, and he neither understood nor rejoiced in his own weakness, but he could not forsake her.
“It matters not why.”
“No, I suppose not,” Fitzwilliam answered. “And so, whatcanyou do?”
“Make Bingley cease this grotesque affair so that Mrs Bennet can be persuaded to go home.”
“That should not be too difficult. Bingley invariably does whatever you tell him to.”
Darcy frowned. “You are the second person to say that to me, and I resent it. But I cannot tell him to do anything, because I cannot find him. Anywhere!” He gave a brief account of his numerous failed searches, after which Fitzwilliam drained his glass and discarded it carelessly on the nearest table before pushing himself energetically out of his chair.
“Well then, if you cannot find him, you had better try and find her. Come!”
“Come where?” Darcy asked, looking up at him in bafflement.
“Did you not say her friend is an actress?”
“Yes, apparently she is.”
“And who do you know who is on excellent terms with the gorgeous young creature who performs nightly at Covent Garden?”
A glimmer of hope brought Darcy to his feet. “You!”
