“I am going back, Darcy!” Bingley exclaimed, as he burst into the study and closed the door behind him. “You are mistaken—you and Caroline and Louisa. Miss Bennet loves me.”
Darcy, striving to remain impassive, set the letter aside. “Howcanyou be so sure? She smiles at everyone—the same placid, gentle smile.”
Bingley’s head was already shaking. “No. You are wrong. How many conversations have you held with her, Darcy? Have you spoken with her directly, or merely observed her as you stalk the edges of a room as you typically do?”
“I do not stalk,” Darcy scoffed.
“Forgive me, butyes, you do. You skulk about, glowering at everyone in silence to discourage their company. How can you possibly know Jane as I do?”
“But I still wonder at your certitude that Miss Bennet holds you in the same regard,” Darcy pushed, the question no longer solely for Bingley. “How can any man be confident of a lady’s affection—especially when marriage is at stake?” His fortune and connections had made him a target from the moment he came of age. How was a gentleman to discern between genuine regard and clever pretense? The uncertainty had long plagued him.
“’Tis the little things, Darcy. I can see past the composed exterior she presents—from the demure mask—to the warm, affectionate woman beneath. She inquires after my thoughts and concerns. We speak of more than polite trivialities. But above all, it is a certainty I feel within myself. Call it instinct, if you must. Miss Bennet loves me, and I love her. ’Tis my duty as a gentleman, my responsibility, to speak of my feelings first, and I shall. Besides, you said I have raised expectations. How can I claim to be honorable if I expose her to the derision of others for disappointed hopes? If I retreat now, I shall paint myself as capricious and unstable—and leave her to bear the censure and pity of the world.”
“That is a little brown, I think.” Darcy leaned back in his chair with a grin, crossing his legs. “But I understand your meaning.My only fear is that you may be misled. If she truly loves you, then none of your sisters’ objections signify. You are certain?” Darcy asked one final time, holding his friend’s gaze.
“I am. I feel it here.” He pressed a hand over his heart. The gesture was rather dramatic, yet Darcy did not doubt its sincerity.
“Very well. When shall we depart?”
Bingley blinked. “‘We?’ You mean to accompany me?”
“Of course. I promised to stand by you and help you to assume the role expected of a gentleman landowner. If my presence is unwelcome, then say so at once, and I shall spend Christmas with Georgiana.” His sister would not travel to Hertfordshire while that reprobate Wickham remained nearby.
“Capital. I have a few business matters yet to settle. We can depart on the thirtieth of November, if that suits you. Blast! The first of December is a Sunday. We shall not be able to call at Longbourn until the second. Perhaps I can conclude my business sooner.”
“Do not rush it,” Darcy cautioned. “If you miss something or err, you will be forced to return to London.” He well knew it from his own experience.
His friend nodded, tugging on his waistcoat. “Very well. Is breakfast ready? I shall eat, then visit my solicitor.” He turned to leave, pausing at the door. “Darcy, be a good chap and say nothing to my sisters, will you? I understand now how they regard Miss Bennet, and I do not desire their interference as I continue my courtship.”
“You have my word.” Darcy believed it wise to keep the Bingley sisters out of their brother’s affairs. Besides, he would be far more comfortable at Netherfield if he did not have to parry Miss Bingley’s attentions.
After Bingley departed, Darcy sighed heavily and steepled his fingers against his lips, his elbows resting on the arms of thechair. Why had he agreed to return to Hertfordshire? The notion made no sense. Had he not fled that very place to escape Miss Elizabeth Bennet, only to thrust himself once more into her company? He had taken care not to raise her expectations. The unusual shade of her violet eyes had sparkled with intelligence and lively wit, their rare hue only heightening the force of her charm and threatening to tempt him past the limits of his resolve. Their dance at the Netherfield Ball had been his silent farewell. She had challenged him, and he had, in turn, offered a caution regarding Wickham. He had felt it was the least he could do for the lady with whom he had begun to fall in love.
A thought stirred—something Bingley had said of knowing he was certain of Miss Bennet’s affection? Frowning, he searched his memory for any similar signs in his own conversations with Elizabeth. His chest tightened as he reflected upon each moment with fresh eyes.She dislikes me!he realized, sitting upright in sudden astonishment. Elizabeth, the object of his growing admiration, did not return his feelings.
Each recollection of her conduct toward him assumed new significance, and he reconsidered every occasion with her as though witnessing it for the first time. How had he failed to perceive the truth? The very liveliness that had drawn him in—her wit, her teasing challenges, her candor—he had mistaken for signs of interest, perhaps even an attempt to capture him as a husband. Yet none of it sought to attract. There was no clever scheme. She had merely cloaked her indifference—and indeed, her distaste for his presence—behind civility.
Indignant at being so gravely misunderstood, he resolved to improve Elizabeth’s opinion by every honorable means available to him. The thought of any person—man or woman—thinking ill of him made his stomach churn. That the lady he admired should do so was worse still.
And what if your heart proves entirely lost?whispered the voice within.
Then I shall ask her to marry me,he replied firmly.
All the reasons for leaving Hertfordshire—leavingher—now held no meaning at all.
Chapter Two
December 1, 1811
Netherfield Park
Darcy
“IcannotbelieveCarolinehad the servants dismissed!” Bingley’s continual grumbling was beginning to wear on Darcy. He had repeated the same complaint at least four times since they had set out from London—and twice more since their arrival the day before. Mrs. Nicholls had been expecting them; fortunately, Bingley had the presence of mind to send word ahead, so the staff were not completely taken by surprise. However, neither he nor Darcy had anticipated being greeted by a skeleton staff.
“I ought to have warned you it might be so, my friend,” Darcy said as Bingley took a sip of port. “I understood when we followed you to town that your sisters had no intentionof returning. Logically, one might conclude she dismissed the additional servants before her departure.”
Bingley muttered under his breath and rose to refill his glass. “Yes, I have instructed Mrs. Nicholls to rehire all the staff she deems necessary. Caroline did not even trouble herself to dispense their quarter’s pay. Goodness, what a poor image that paints of me and my household!”
