Darcy involuntarily stepped back, startled by the vehemence of Bingley’s address. The habitual mildness which had ever defined his friend’s character seemed, in a single instant, wholly overthrown, replaced by a countenance marked by indignation and affront. Never before had he known the young man toelevate his voice in anger; still less had he witnessed such unrestrained fury, his expression so altered as to appear quite murderous.
But this state of unrestrained ire did not last very long. Bingley sat on the fallen log; his shoulders sagged, his chin touching his chest and, Darcy thought he saw a tear or two falling to the ground from the young man’s eyes.
Darcy’s heart broke.
Never had Darcy felt so ashamed of himself. His friend was within his rights to call him out and put him to the sword for his interference, for the untold suffering he had thrust on so many.
He sank to his knees beside his friend in an attitude of deepest contrition; “Bingley, no expression of shame can equal what I feel. I have indeed disgraced my family’s name and betrayed the friendship of the best and most generous of men, merely to gratify a most unpardonable sense of my own superiority. I entreat you with all possible humility to forgive me; will you ever look upon me again as a friend and grant me your pardon?”
Bingley opened his eyes and looked at Darcy, his anger spent. What was left was a broken man with red eyes and a haunted countenance. His manner altered in an instant, his indignation giving way to bitter self-reproach.
“I am to blame,” he said pitiably, “I who knew what Jane was; the sweetest of ladies, the gentlest of spirits, the most loving, the most unassuming...Idid this to her.” He gazed at the sky for divine help, or maybe seeking forgiveness, “I deserted her,” he exclaimed in a voice subdued by remorse. “She did not merit such treatment. She must despise me now.”
He looked upon Darcy with such unguarded anguish that Darcy felt himself compelled, without a moment’s delay to disabuse him of the painful notion that Miss Bennet regarded him with hatred.
“I think you are mistaken Charlie, if you believe the lady hates you. Did you not hear what I said that she went to London in search of you and she has been there ever since?”
“But she must by this time consider me wholly indifferent, particularly after so long an absence. Also I cannot doubt that Caroline has supplied her with every manner of falsehood: that I am devoted elsewhere; perhaps to your own sister, or to the daughter of some duke, or to an heiress possessed of a hundred thousand pounds. There is no tale too ridiculous for her invention. I know too well how determined my sister can be, how vicious once her mind is resolved upon a scheme.”
“Yes this I know too well, being myself the recipient of her schemes many a time.” Darcy grabbed Bingley’s arm and turned his friend to face him, “But she is coming Charlie, she might be at the manor house already.”
“Caroline does not know where I am Darcy. I did not tell her the urgent business I had in Kent was you.” Bingley said despondent.
“Not Miss Bingley. Miss Jane Bennet!” Darcy said firmly and impatiently.
“What?” Bingley finally looked at Darcy stupefied.
“Why do you think I called you to Kent, my friend, to see my aunt, the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh and to spend time with me and Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Darcy chuckled, “No, I did it to place you and Miss Bennet under the same roof once again.”
“How?” Bingley stood up abruptly and started pacing the grove raking his hair with his gloved fingers.
“Miss Elizabeth and I decided that you two deserved another chance, hopefully this time without any interference from me or any other well-meaning fool.”
Bingley’s face split up in a heart warming smile, “Well let us go then for there is no time to lose.” He said almost sprinting towards his horse.
“Does that mean you forgive me?” Darcy asked following him a few paces behind.
Bingley turned towards his friend once again, “that will depend entirely upon my reception from the lady herself. Pray Darcy because I may still have cause to call you out onto the field of honour.” He smirked.
Chapter 12
Elizabeth felt her spirits in some agitation as the hour of her sister’s arrival drew near. In hopes of diverting her thoughts she resolved to spend the greater part of the day visiting Charlotte; and to her surprise found Colonel Fitzwilliam engaged in conversation with that lady, whilst a maid sat discreetly in a distant corner of the room employed in quiet mending.
Charlotte’s appearance was greatly improved. A livelier bloom had returned to her cheek, and she was supported by an arrangement of pillows which afforded her both comfort and ease. Yet she looked thin beyond what was expected of an expecting lady, her pregnant belly looking too small for her advanced confinement. Which indicated to Elizabeth she was not quite out of danger yet.
The three friends spent a pleasant hour, with the Colonel making the ladies laugh at his embellished tales of the war.
When the beef broth arrived for Charlotte he excused himself and Elizabeth proceeded to help her friend.
They avoided the subject of Mr Collins’ complete absence. The fact that the man had not visited his wife was a glaring gap. But it seemed the Colonel had seamlessly filled that gap, which was also avoided.
Elizabeth requested a luncheon tray of some bread and cheese, so she could remain with her friend, but once Charlottereclined and closed her eyes in obvious desire to rest, Elizabeth left the bedchamber and went to the library.
In the library she found Mr Darcy writing some letters.
“Oh. Excuse me, sir. I did not mean to intrude.”
“Miss Elizabeth, please come in, this is a public room, if I wished to have solitude I would have chosen to write my letters in my own bedchamber.” He smiled at her with those blasted dimples that discombobulated her so often.
