“Let me read the note,” Darcy requested, puzzled.
On the small piece of paper was written:
Mr Darcy,
I apologise for applying to you, but I am desperate, and I cannot find help anywhere else. It is a matter of life and death for a young mother of sixteen and her infant, and your mercy may be their only salvation.
I pray you will forgive me for bothering you with a matter almost wholly unconnected with you and that your kindness, about which I have heard so much, might induce you to listen to me if only for a moment. Since I understand you are expected to return home soon, I shall call every morning, praying to the Lord for the miracle of finally meeting you.
Your humble servant,
Jane Crawford
Puzzled and bewildered, Darcy stared at the note, then at his valet.
“What on earth is this?”
“I know nothing else about it, sir. Apparently, the lady seemed upset and would not answer any further questions.”
Darcy rubbed his temples. He could not imagine what that woman might want from him, except perhaps money since she mentioned a child and a young mother. But why did she ask him particularly? Perhaps she had asked many other people too? Could she be a swindler? Would she dare enter his house and attempt to deceive him?
“Porter, I might not be home tomorrow morning either. If she calls again, tell her I am aware of her request and am willing to provide help if she presents me with proof of her honesty. Ask for her direction.”
“Very well, sir.”
A knock on the door surprised them; it was certainly not a time for visits or conversation, so Darcy assumed it was his sister and she had something important to tell him. Porter opened the door, and there stood Bingley, waiting with a troubled expression and his clothes in some disorder.
“Forgive me for disturbing you, Darcy. I happened to be passing and saw the knocker was up. I hear you have just returned. I talked your man here into letting me come up.” He gestured to a harried-looking footman behind him, whom Darcy dismissed with a nod.
“Do not worry, it is no disturbance. Come in, Bingley. Porter, that will be all until morning,” he said. “Bingley, would you like a drink?”
“No, I already had a few after dinner…but on second thoughts, yes, I would like one more.”
“I assume you read my letter,” Darcy said, handing his friend a glass and gesturing for him to take a seat.
“I did. What does it mean, Darcy?”
“Was I not clear enough? I have reason to believe I was wrong in my estimation of Miss Bennet’s feelings for you. And I thought you should know that she has been in town since January and is still here.”
“But…how do you know?”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet was in Kent, visiting her friend the former Charlotte Lucas, who has since married Mr Collins.”
“Has she? So?” Bingley enquired impatiently.
“I had a heated conversation with Miss Elizabeth, and, among other things, the particular subject of you and Miss Bennet was discussed.”
“And what did she say?”
“Well, she said I was selfish, ungentlemanlike, and completely wrong in presuming Miss Bennet had no feelings for you. She said many other words, which I shall not repeat.”
“But…are you absolutely sure?”
“I am not. I am only relating what Miss Elizabeth told me. She must know her sister’s mind better than I do. Besides, if you are interested, you may ask Miss Bennet directly.”
“Miss Elizabeth told you her sister is in town?”
“Yes,” Darcy replied, hesitating for another moment. “But, in all honesty, I already knew that. Miss Bennet visited your sisters, and they returned the call.”
