Elizabeth pressed her forehead briefly against the cool glass of the carriage window.
She had agreed to a plan meant to restore peace and order. Instead, she found herself more unsettled than before, aware that whatever lay ahead would demand more from her than careful appearances.
And that knowledge, quiet and insistent, followed her home.
Chapter 11
Darcy had long believed that certainty, once reached, ought to bring peace. It was a conviction grounded in habit and reinforced by experience. Decisions, once made, relieved him of the burden of indecision. Conclusions, once drawn, allowed him to proceed without hesitation or regret.
To his dismay, he had discovered that the veracity of this belief did not extend to matters of the heart.
The club was quieter than usual, the late morning hour discouraging all but the most habitual of its members. The fire burned low, its warmth subdued, and the muted sounds of the street beyond the windows seemed distant, almost unreal. Darcy sat opposite Bingley at a small table near the window, his posture composed, his expression attentive. To any casual observer, he would have appeared entirely at ease.
Bingley, for his part, was in excellent spirits.
He spoke with easy animation of Jane Bennet, of the pleasure he found in her company, of the growing assurance that her gentleness was not weakness but steadiness of feeling. There was no attempt at concealment in his manner. His happinesswas evident and unforced, and Darcy listened with a mixture of genuine satisfaction and quiet contrition.
“I begin to think that I was a great fool to doubt her regard,” Bingley said with a cheerful laugh.
Darcy smiled faintly. “You were cautious, not foolish. There is a difference.”
Bingley waved the distinction aside. “If there is, I am glad to have passed through it quickly. At last, everything seems to be turning out as it should.”
The words lingered with Darcy longer than Bingley could have intended.
“I am glad of it,” Darcy said after a moment. “Truly.”
Bingley studied him with a look of mild surprise. “You sound almost relieved.”
“I am,” Darcy replied without hesitation. “You deserve happiness, and I am glad not to stand in its way.”
“You never did so deliberately,” Bingley said, his tone gentle rather than reproachful.
Darcy inclined his head. “Deliberate or not, the effect was the same.”
Bingley accepted this without argument, though his gaze remained thoughtful. He had known Darcy long enough to recognise when an apology was not merely courteous but sincerely felt.
After a brief pause, he spoke again, more carefully this time. “You have been very grave of late. I wondered whether it might have something to do with the rumours.”
Darcy’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly. “They have not improved.”
“So I have heard everywhere I go,” Bingley replied. “It is a shame your efforts have not been more successful. For my part, I thought the plan an excellent one.”
“London society is remarkably resistant to correction,” Darcy said dryly. “Especially when speculation has already found its audience.”
Bingley smiled. “You have made another attempt since the ‘accidental’ meeting in Hyde Park, then?”
“Yes.”
“Another supposedly coincidental meeting?”
Darcy hesitated only briefly. “I thought it best.”
“And was it effective?”
Darcy considered his answer with care. “Not in the way I intended.”
Bingley laughed softly. “A pattern begins to emerge, do you not think, my friend?”
