As they were both to be present at dinner that evening, he silently sought Lady Eleanor’s help. When Georgiana entered the room, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms like a child.
She asked no questions, for not everyone had assembled yet. But when it became evident at the table that Anne was not present, she turned to him and asked,
“Where is Anne?”
Only then did the viscountess notice that Darcy’s wife was absent; her eyes moved at once to her mother-in-law, who gave her a small, knowing sign to be patient.
To the surprise of all, it was Lord Matlock who spoke. His anger had clearly subsided, though not his concern.
“My dear friends, we have news—news that is not entirely agreeable.” The expression was so ill-suited to the gravity of the matter that Darcy had some difficulty suppressing a smile. It seemed that the Bourgh estate had already eased many of his uncle’s anxieties.
“To our astonishment, Anne has proved not to be the woman we believed her to be. Instead of expressing her doubts before taking such a step, she chose to marry Darcy—and only afterwards regretted it.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Georgiana and Lady Wharton together, while the viscount set down his cutlery, as though afraid he might drop it in his surprise.
“That little mouse?” he asked.
“Precisely. That little mouse has deceived us all,” said Lord Matlock, with severity.
“But we must allow that Lady Catherine bears a considerable share of the blame,” the countess continued, unwilling that all faults should rest with Anne. “Rather than attend to her daughter, she concerned herself only with Rosings and her own affairs.”
“And what will you do?” Georgiana asked Darcy, alarmed.
“I shall seek a divorce, and afterwards I shall look for a lady who truly loves me,” Darcy replied, with a composure that reassured her in some measure.
“For the present, what you have heard tonight will go no further than this dining room. Is that clearly understood?” said the earl, in a tone so grave that every smile vanished at once; all assented in silence—some from fear of Lord Matlock, others from affection for Darcy, but all equally resolved to support him.
“Do you suffer?” Georgiana asked after a long pause, her concern directed less to his honour than to her brother’s heart.
“He suffers only in that he must face many difficulties with the divorce,” declared Lord Matlock, in the same tonealmost martial—the only form of suffering he appeared willing to acknowledge.
“There will be the talk of the world,” the viscount observed.
“That remains to be seen,” said Lady Matlock shortly, and the viscountess smiled, for she already knew her mother-in-law well.
They dined almost in silence thereafter, speaking only of lighter matters. When dinner was over, the viscountess approached Darcy and said in a low voice,
“I am sorry for what you must endure, but do not be uneasy about London. I saw that steel in Lady Eleanor’s eyes, and I would not wish to be in the place of anyone who speaks ill of you. One word from her, and such a person would never again be admitted into any drawing-room of consequence.”
And that was all Darcy wished to know in that moment.
Chapter 22
Elizabeth, accompanied by her family, arrived in London a month after Mr Darcy. While Mr Bennet and Mary chose to stay with the Gardiners, Mrs Bennet, Kitty, Lydia, and Elizabeth were warmly received at the Bingleys’ town house. The happy couple delighted in having guests, and none was more welcome than Elizabeth.
Elizabeth learned of Mr Darcy’s misfortune through Jane’s letter. Neither Jane nor her husband suspected that his stay at Netherfield had been prompted by anything beyond the need for rest. For once, Mrs Bennet kept her promise and did not speak of it to anyone, though such restraint cost her more than she would ever have imagined.
Not without some effort to conceal her amusement, Elizabeth, upon arriving at the Bingleys’ house, expressed proper surprise and concern at Mr Darcy’s situation, and spoke with sincere hope that he might find strength to overcome so distressing an event.
“He did perfectly right to attend the theatre and appear with his family,” said Bingley.
“We went as well, to the Matlocks’ box, and remained for nearly two acts,” Jane added with animation, glancing at her husband, who confirmed it with a nod.
“But are people discussing…the affair?” Elizabeth asked.
“Of course they are—it is the most recent incident in London society…scarcely a few days old. You should hear Louisa and Caroline. They speak of nothing else. Still, Mr Darcy’s reputation in London is firmly established, and all blame rests upon her—an unstable young woman who nearly ruined the life of an honourable man.”
“And do you know where she has gone?”
