Page 30 of Fitzwilliam Darcy, Exile

Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. He had forgotten about the dinner party to celebrate the arrival of the Bingleys, Hursts, and Wickham to Hertfordshire. It was not a gathering Darcy looked forward to. Already, he was raw with guilt, and Wickham would relish the opportunity to rub salt in his open wounds.

“Yes, I shall ask Charlotte to hide them for me and pray that our case is strong enough to prove Papa’s innocence. I can use the excuse of cleaning the settings and checking the clasps. Something believable to give us time.”

She paused, and the silence between them lasted long enough to raise Darcy’s suspicions. He felt Elizabeth’s eyes on him. He closed the collection of documents he would forward to Richard by messenger that same day and turned to her.

She was watching him, a thoughtful expression brightening her eyes. “Do you have any friends in England, Mr. Robinson? Or family, perhaps?”

How could he answer that? He had few friends—Richard and Reynolds, to name two—but he could not speak of his family without giving her more information than he was prepared to give.

He must have delayed too long in his reply, or perhaps she read the panic on his face with more sympathy than he merited, for she placed a hand on his forearm. “I must seem like a selfish creature, always speaking of my family and my friends, blessed as I am with so many of them when you… it seems… that you have… no one?”

God help him. Darcy said nothing, in one omission allowing her to believe him abandoned, an orphan, when he had been the one to leave. He would answer for this deception later, he knew. There was one point he could not allow to pass, and he said, “I would never call you selfish.”

Pressing down on his arm, she looked up at him with open eyes brimming with sincerity, “If I may be so bold, sir, it would please me greatly for you to consider me a friend.”

Her offer hit him like a kick to the stomach. Darcy had thought he had reached the depth of his guilt, but now it was that much lower.

CHAPTER 15

Darcy was tempted to entertain the hope that Wickham might not be invited to dine at Lucas Lodge, but he was too practical to allow his thoughts to linger on vain hopes. Sir William would relish the opportunity to relate the story of his presentation at St. James’s to a new neighbor. And Wickham was an available suitor who might take an interest in the Lucases’ unattached daughter. These were reasons too compelling to underestimate. Wickham would surely be there.

Had Darcy been prone to cowardice, he might have feigned illness that evening, but he had decided on this course and would see it through. He also considered Miss Elizabeth. She lived in a sheltered world at Longbourn and had not experienced the duplicitous charm of a self-serving gentleman like Wickham. Darcy had to protect her.

Mrs. Bennet insisted that they arrive last to the dinner party, as befit their station, which she was quick to remind them was superior to that of the other invited guests. However, Miss Mary pointed out they were too numerous a party to arrive in the same carriage at the same time. The two youngest Bennets had already been deposited at Lucas Lodge, where they were to spend the evening with Maria Lucas. Despite their absence, there remained six individuals to transport—a grand task for any carriage to perform and an impossible one to do comfortably. Miss Elizabeth offered to go first, but Mrs. Bennet would not allow for the future Mrs. Darcy to arrive before the Bingleys, whose fortune came from trade. Thus it was settled that Miss Mary would travel to Lucas Lodge with her mother and father, after which Darcy would follow with Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth.

She wore a simple gown with a blue ribbon tied at her waist and the garnet necklace that always circled her lovely neck. Darcy knew she had refused the maid’s help so that Molly might spend more time twisting and curling Miss Bennet’s hair into a coiffure that was adorned with a clip fashioned like a crown. Miss Elizabeth did not need the maid’s ministrations to add to her beauty. Anticipation of an evening spent with friends and curiosity to meet the newly arrived Mr. Wickham added sparkle to her lively eyes and color to her cheeks.

She arranged her skirts around her and looked at her sister. “You and Mr. Bingley will be in company again.”

Miss Bennet shrugged. “I suppose we will.”

This indifferent reply was met with a frown and another attempt at conversation. “He is a kind gentleman.”

“He is.” Another frown from her sister prompted Miss Bennet to add, “Very kind.”

Miss Elizabeth turned to face her, clasping her hands in her own. “But you will not consider him?”

This received the strongest reaction Darcy had yet to witness from Miss Bennet. She pulled her hands free, as one did after touching something unpleasant. “Mr. Bingley? Why should I give him any consideration?”

It was clear that Miss Elizabeth had expected a very different reaction. “Why not? He seems like an amiable man who would treat you well, and you would be comfortable.”

Miss Bennet’s gaze flickered to Darcy, who did his best to play the role of a servant and make himself invisible. This conversation would never happen in front of an eligible gentleman. Still, Miss Bennet dropped her voice to a low hiss. “I do not intend to settle for the son of a tradesman. It would be a degradation.”

“For whom?” Miss Elizabeth exclaimed in shock.

“For me, for Mama and Papa, and for our younger sisters, who must marry well. Really, Lizzy, you must be speaking in jest to suggest such an unequal match.”

Miss Elizabeth’s expression changed, and Darcy sensed her disappointment.

Lowering her chin, Miss Bennet added softly, “You will marry Mr. Darcy. How can I do any less for my sisters than to marry a title?” Her manners gave the impression of humility and a self-sacrificing nature, but there was an avarice in her words that set Darcy on edge. She might claim a desire to marry for her sisters’ benefit, but she did not need to marry a title to serve them. A suspicion crept into Darcy’s mind that it was an ugly motive borne from the treacherous heart of a jealous sister. He had originally mistaken Miss Bennet as an insipid miss, but no longer. He would be cautious around her for Miss Elizabeth’s sake.

Finally, they arrived at Lucas Lodge. To the immense satisfaction of Mrs. Bennet, they were last, and she had the pleasure of seeing the effect on the other guests when her two handsomest daughters entered the room. Darcy had to give the matron credit. She had seized every contribution his father had bestowed upon her daughters for their advancement, and she wasted no opportunity to present them at advantage.

The Bingleys were present, as were the Hursts, a few other gentlemen Darcy had only met briefly, and… George Wickham. He sneered at Darcy as he crossed the room to welcome them. There was nothing Darcy could do. He could not intervene, nor could he prevent Wickham from speaking to any of the Bennets. He pretended to be unaffected, leaning against the chimney mantel, but then immediately cursed his choice when the heat from the fire added to the sweat already trickling a trail down his back.

Dinner was called, and Wickham turned to Miss Bennet to escort her into the dining room. Mr. Bingley was just a second too late, his arm still raised, his smile slowly melting as the pair walked by. Poor man. Darcy felt sorry for him until he redirected his attention to Miss Elizabeth, who was happy to walk into the dining room on his arm, thus reaching the full extent of Darcy’s compassion for the lovelorn gentleman. Why could Mr. Bingley not have escorted Miss Lucas? Darcy turned to that lady in time to see her take the arm of another gentleman. The number of ladies remaining dwindled, and it was with increasing distaste that he noticed Miss Bingley’s proximity.

A voice sounded behind him. “Mr. Robinson, I am here.” He turned to see Miss Mary standing with her hands clasped, looking at him patiently, as though he had forgotten an agreement they had made. She seemed to read his thoughts, raising her brow and tilting her chin. To his other side, Miss Bingley watched, effectively making Darcy’s decision. With a smile of gratitude and relief, he extended his arm to Miss Mary.