“Yes, do so; and if it receives no answer, I am certain you will see Mr Darcy at your sister’s wedding.”
Chapter 8
Although Mr Darcy had not been the one to advise Bingley to go to Longbourn and discover Miss Bennet’s true feelings, his agreement with his friend’s plan nevertheless had a favourable influence.
They met that evening at the club when Darcy and the colonel returned to London; it was no coincidence, for Bingley had been seeking them for several days, hoping for their return.
With considerable anger, he learned—almost by chance—that Miss Bennet had been in London for nearly two months, and had even visited her sisters, who, taking advantage of his removal to his new house, had not informed him.
It then became clear to him that he loved her, and that, whatever opposition he might encounter, he was resolved to discover whether her feelings were the same. From Louisa, and not without difficulty, he obtained the address of her uncle, determined to seek him out and ask his advice.
But first, he wished to speak with Darcy.
“I shall marry Miss Bennet if she will still have me.” Bingley avoided looking at his friend as he spoke. He was calm and resolute in a manner Darcy had rarely witnessed.
“Tomorrow, I shall leave for Netherfield—alone—go directly to Longbourn and ask her forgiveness…and her hand…if she still wishes to accept me. She is the love of my life.”
Darcy inclined his head. They were dining at their club, only a day after his return from Rosings.
“I know you do not approve of my decision, but Miss Bennet is the lady I love, and my opinion of her is of the highest. I regret that we differ on this matter, and I hope you will, in time, amend your opinion of her.”
Darcy looked at him with an open and composed countenance. “My dear friend, it is your decision. I was wrong to interfere as I did. Pray proceed as you intend, and from this moment I shall stand by you in whatever course you choose.”
Bingley could scarcely believe what he heard. Darcy seemed altered, and it was not only his words—so different from before—but his whole manner. It was as though some of his severity had been softened. It was difficult to define, but his friend appeared more indulgent, more tolerant than he had ever been.
“Do you truly agree with me?” Bingley asked again.
“You do not require my agreement. In matters of such consequence, you must act only upon your own judgement and feelings. Forget me—your sisters—everyone.”
“Thank you. It means a great deal to have you on my side. I wish to marry and to be happy with Miss Bennet, and I believe she is the only woman who can make me so.”
“I wish to marry, too,” Darcy said unexpectedly, his gaze fixed upon the glass of brandy in his hand.
The declaration astonished Bingley. Never before had Darcy spoken of marriage in such a manner. Though it was the general expectation of society, many young men delayed such a step, preferring their liberty, and Darcy had always seemed among that number.
“Do not look so astonished,” Darcy said, with a faint attempt at humour. “I have enjoyed the freedoms of a bachelor long enough. At nearly thirty, a man must begin to consider his future—his family, his children. The time has come for me to seek a wife.”
Encouraged by what had passed, Bingley ventured further. “Have you some particular lady in mind—one who has led you to such a resolution?”
Darcy laughed—but there was little gaiety in the sound. Though he spoke of marriage, there was no appearance of happiness in his countenance.
“Not all men are fortunate enough to find the love of their lives.”
“But you may still wait for her. You are young—perhaps she is nearer than you suppose.”
Darcy shook his head with marked agitation. He seemed far from expecting such happiness.
“No. It may prove fruitless, or perhaps I am not formed for such attachments. For me, marriage must be a rational decision. It is what my father did, and he was happy until my mother’s death. Indeed, it is what most men do. They marry from various motives, not solely from love.”
“And how do you intend to find such a wife?” Bingley asked, somewhat uncertain, just as the colonel approached their table.
They rose and exchanged greetings.
“I have just escaped from a most tiresome dinner,” he said, though his cheerful tone contradicted his words.
He is the most agreeable man I know, Bingley thought, regarding him with admiration.
“I advised you not to go,” Darcy said, smiling, and they both exchanged a look that left Bingley entirely at a loss.
