Then she took a larger piece of paper, and wrote another message. She hoped this message, sent by a fast rider, would arrive at Netherfield before Richard did.
Darcy,
I have neglected to tell you that I wrote to Richard about what befell Georgiana at Ramsgate. He immediately left his regiment and has been with us here at Matlock for the past fortnight. I need not tell you how furious he is. He has vowed to kill George Wickham, and has set a good many men to the task of finding the villain, but with no success.
Upon being reminded of his duty to assure Georgiana of his continued affection, Richard is on his way to you even now. Be prepared, for he is not happy with you. He says he will at least give you the chance to explain yourself before taking his vengeance upon your person.
I have never seen him like this, Darcy. He is in a rage, but it is a cold, icy rage. I am almost afraid of him myself.
As for your question regarding Society, I have had the patronesses of Almack’s here today to enquire – every so delicately – as to the truth of the article. It is still talked of, I am afraid to say, and generally believed. This is far from over.
Your loving and rather fearful aunt,
Ellen
Chapter Twenty-Six
Netherfield Park
When Mr. Darcy went downstairs to break his fast, he found two messages waiting for him beside his plate. One was from his cousin, Anne de Bourgh; the other from his aunt, the Countess. It was unusual for Anne to write to him, so he opened that first. Its contents had him chuckle. Silver lining indeed! Not that he would ever have married Anne de Bourgh, but Lady Catherine’s insistence on this fantastical cradle betrothal had always been an annoyance.
Then he opened the message from the Countess. The chuckle died at once, and he swore under his breath, causing Georgiana, Mr. Bingley, and the Hursts to look at him in some concern. Miss Bingley had not yet come down.
“Brother?” Georgiana asked.
“Richard is on his way here,” Mr. Darcy said, grimly.
“Oh.” Georgiana looked down at her plate.
“You seem upset about it, Darcy. I would have thought you would be happy to see him,” Mr. Bingley remarked.
“He is concerned about the gossip surrounding Georgiana. He is her guardian, you know, along with myself.”
“So he has the right to be concerned. But once he knows there is no truth to it, all will be well!” Mr. Bingley’s voice was cheerful.
Mr. Darcy put his head in his hands and groaned. Georgiana pushed her plate away.
“Darcy?” Mr. Bingley sounded worried.
Mr. Darcy ignored his friend, turning instead to Netherfield’s hostess. “Mrs. Hurst, would you object to putting my cousin up for a day or two?”
“We would be honoured,” Mrs. Hurst replied. “I will have a room prepared for him at once.”
Miss Bingley entered the room, yawning hugely. “Who is coming?” she asked.
“My cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam,” Mr. Darcy answered shortly.
Miss Bingley stopped yawning and now looked interested. “Oh! The son of the Earl and Countess of Matlock!”
Mr. Darcy thought it best to enlighten Miss Bingley at once. “Yes; he is the second son, Miss Bingley, with no estate and no expectations of one. He has been in the Army for many years now, and has earned his rank by merit, not money. I suspect he will remain in the Army until he retires.” The Colonel actually had an inheritance from an aunt on his mother’s side, and could leave the Army whenever he wished, but Darcy thought it best not to mention that.
“Oh.” Miss Bingley had, as expected, lost interest. She sat down and looked around the table. “I see there is no hot chocolate.” She looked at her sister expectantly.
“No, there is not. As we never know when you will gift us with your presence, I have told Cook not to bother with it. Tea and coffee are available to you.” Mrs. Hurst spoke with some asperity.
Miss Bingley stared hard at her sister, who stared back. Miss Bingley finally dropped her eyes and then shifted her attention. “Charles, I must speak with you about your behaviour at Longbourn.”
“My behaviour? Whatever can you mean?”
