Page 142 of Bitterness of Spirit & The Painting

It was Darcy’s turn to interrupt her and to apologise with as much sincerity as he could.

“Mrs Norwood, I am begging you not to say such things. I am happy to have met you and I hope we will have many chances to talk at length while I am in Brighton. But now I am waiting for my friend—he is sure to arrive at any moment.”

“I understand. I noticed that Mrs Clarke is making some changes to the house.”

“Yes, she is.”

“I am very glad. It was such a pity to see it falling apart. I am sure Lady Anne would be glad too.”

“I hope she would,” Darcy admitted. He looked at the woman in front of him and smiled wholeheartedly, then he took her hand in his. “I am truly happy to have met you, Mrs Norwood.”

Her doubts and restraint disappeared.

“Please call me Julia,” she replied.

“Very well, Julia. And you may call me…Did you say Will? Nobody has ever called me Will, except my mother.”

“I called you so because—my mother told me as much—when I first met you I was not even four years old and you were just an infant. It was the first time that Lady Anne brought you here. Your name was too long and too complicated for me, so I shortened it to Will.”

“I see... Then please call me Will,” he said, and his smile broadened.

“Very well, Will,” she repeated. “By the way, Miss Bennet and her sisters are staying at the Crawford Cottage. The second house to the left,” she suddenly said.

“Are they? How lovely. My friend will be delighted to see them too,” he uttered. Then he kissed her hand, bowed, and took his farewell. The puppy ran after him, but James stopped him and scooped him up in his arms. Darcy waved to the children and they waved back, together with their mother.

So trapped was he in a storm of feelings that he could not properly comprehend, that he did not hear Bingley calling him repeatedly. As he finally turned to his friend, he did not observe the two riders dressed in red uniforms who were accompanying a carriage that stopped in front of Crawford Cottage. One of them, however, did not miss the sight of Darcy kissing the hand of the woman, nor him waving back to her affectionately.

He entered the house, bewildered, asking for a drink, while Bingley followed him. They went to the drawing-room and Tom brought them a tray with a bottle and two glasses, then departed, closing the door behind him.

“How are you, Bingley? You had a pleasant time, I hope?” he asked, with more politeness than real interest, while they both filled their glasses with brandy.

“Yes, yes… Darcy, there is something most unexpected that I just discovered. The regiment from Meryton is here, in Brighton, for the summer. And two of the Miss Bennets are here too. Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia. I had no chance to speak to them, but I saw them with the colonel’s wife. And with Wickham and Lieutenant Denny.”

Bingley was nervous, restless, pacing the room and sipping repeatedly from his drink. Darcy took a large swallow, then put his glass on the table.

“Wickham? Again? Upon my word, that scoundrel is like a curse; I will never get rid of him.”

With bitterness, he pondered that, if the youngest Miss Bennets were in that man’s company, Elizabeth must have disregarded his letter entirely.

“Yes…I know how much you despise him, but he seems to have many friends.”

“Things are not always as they seem.”

He paused, searching for the best way to begin the painful disclosure.

“Bingley, the reason for asking you to join me here was to discuss precisely this. I did not wish to trouble you yesterday, as you were still tired from the road, but it cannot be delayed.”

“To discuss what? The regiment?”

“No, Miss Bennet. Miss Jane Bennet,” he replied.

Bingley stopped, glanced at him, then emptied his glass and filled it again.

“What is there to discuss about Miss Jane Bennet? We closed the subject last winter.”

“Did we? Did you?”

“Does it matter, Darcy? We agreed that my interest alone was not enough, since it was not reciprocated. What use could there possibly be in having another unpleasant argument?”