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“It concerns my dearest friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I fear you may find her in lower spirits tomorrow than usual. And I believe you deserve to know it is not without cause.”

His attention sharpened at once. “Has something happened?”

Charlotte nodded, privately relieved by his gentlemanlike response. Another man might have dismissed her concerns—or worse, reminded her it was none of his affair. But Mr. Darcy had not done so. It was, she hoped, a beginning.

“Her family is in difficulty,” she continued.

“Not disgrace, certainly—but trouble. Mr. Bennet has… debts. Quiet ones, known only in Meryton. He never speaks of them, but he has lost at cards, and the sums have come due. Without immediate payment, legal proceedings may commence. There is real concern; Longbourn could be lost if the matter is not resolved soon.”

Darcy’s brow furrowed slightly. “I had no notion of such… unpleasantness.”

“In my opinion, Mr. Bennet was taken advantage of. He is a man of reason and a trusted advisor to many in the county. But they have few avenues for escape,” Charlotte said quietly.

“Elizabeth is doing all she can—she has even considered making... personal sacrifices. She is unaware of this conversation—it was undertaken wholly at my discretion. I do not think she would forgive me for saying more. But she is not herself. And there is no one to whom she might turn—save, perhaps… you. Though I understand your acquaintance with us is still new.”

Darcy turned his gaze to the dark garden beyond the rail. He was silent for a moment before he spoke, his voice even but resolute. “I appreciate your trust in telling me, Miss Lucas. At present, I cannot offer an immediate solution, but I would be glad to help.”

“Perhaps you might consider a way to settle the matter before it reaches court,” she said gently.

“There are signed promissory notes involved—so, however lenient the magistrate, a judgment would likely be passed against him. The debt amounts to one thousand pounds, not including court costs. It cannot be just that a father’s dignity and a family’s future should hang in the balance over so little. ”

“For now, I am taken aback by the news,” Darcy admitted. “But there must be a just remedy. I shall think seriously about it. Indeed, I will speak with Mr. Bennet discreetly tomorrow. If there is a way to assist, I shall find it.”

Just then, the balcony doors opened softly, and Lady Lucas stepped outside, her eyes already on her son. “Walter, my dear?”

“I am better, Mother,” Walter replied at once. “Do not worry—we shall remain a few minutes longer.”

Reassured, Lady Lucas nodded and returned inside without another word.

As she departed, Darcy turned once more to Charlotte. “Thank you for your trust, Miss Lucas. I shall not forget this conversation and hope to find a way forward.”

Charlotte inclined her head, her expression grave and grateful.

The wind stirred the garden leaves below, and for a moment, they stood in thoughtful silence—two siblings and a gentleman—each turning over the quiet gravity of what had passed, and what must now follow.

***

After dinner, once the guests had taken their leave—politely accompanied to the carriage by Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, with all courtesies exchanged. The Lucases departed beneath a clear night sky, their carriage lit by lanterns.

Meanwhile, the Bingley sisters wasted no time withdrawing from the general company. They retreated to a corner of the drawing room, where, with the air of connoisseurs enduring mediocrity, they began to dissect the evening’s guests with undisguised boredom and sharpened tongues.

Miss Bingley swirled the last of her wine in its glass, her expression set somewhere between amusement and disdain.

“Lady Lucas, I must say, has a most unfortunate way of attempting elegance. Did you see her curtsy to Darcy? One would think she was greeting royalty—and with such trembling enthusiasm.”

Mrs. Hurst gave a slow blink, more amused than surprised. “Her shawl was of a fabric I would not touch even in Town’s second-rate shops. And I cannot imagine who advised her to wear those garnets—October light is not kind to such delusions.”

Caroline turned slightly in her seat, lowering her voice though not her tone. “And Miss Lucas—so very... composed. Too composed. I always distrust women who try too hard not to try.”

Louisa gave a knowing look. “She did speak a great deal less than usual. One might almost suspect her of attempting mystery.”

“Mystery,” Caroline echoed, lips curling, “or calculation. The quiet ones are often the most ambitious.”

They laughed softly, glancing toward the door through which Charlotte had long since disappeared.

Mr. Hurst, meanwhile, had stationed himself beside a half-full bottle of claret and poured himself generous servings without waiting for the footman.

It was an unseemly sight; even the servants exchanged glances, and one footman quietly ensured Mr. Bingley had no further need of his services that evening, clearly preferring to avoid witnessing the antics of the trio.

Observing this deterioration in company, Mr. Darcy leaned toward his friend.

“Bingley, would you join me in the library? I would speak with you about a matter of some importance.”

Bingley, ever obliging, rose at once. “Of course, Darcy.”

Once in the quieter surroundings of the library, Bingley’s spirits lifted anew and said cheerfully, “Well! I must say, this evening went even better than I dared hope. Sir William seemed genuinely pleased, and his family were excellent company. I do think we made a favorable impression.” He grinned, pacing slightly.

“And tomorrow! I am most eager to host the Bennets properly. I should very much like Mr. Bennet and his good lady to see that Jane is welcomed with the respect she is due.”

Darcy did not smile. He remained standing, his expression grave.

“Bingley, it is regarding Mr. Bennet that I must speak. I have learned something tonight—news which is, I fear, not of the most pleasant sort.”

Bingley’s brow furrowed at once. “Indeed? What is it?”

Darcy glanced toward the door to ensure they were alone, then spoke low but steadily.

“Miss Lucas approached me this evening after her brother took ill. She confided in me—entirely of her own volition, and without Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s knowledge—that the Bennet family is in some financial difficulty.

Mr. Bennet, it seems, has accrued a quiet but pressing debt.

There is concern that unless the matter is resolved swiftly, legal proceedings may follow.

The sum, I understand, is not negligible—close to one thousand pounds. ”

Bingley blinked. “Good heavens... I had no notion.”

“Nor I, until tonight,” Darcy said. “But Miss Lucas was sincere and thoughtful in her disclosure. She believes Miss Elizabeth is suffering under the weight of it and may be contemplating… certain sacrifices, though she did not elaborate.”

Bingley sat down heavily, visibly shaken. “Poor Miss Elizabeth. Poor Jane! Darcy, this must not come to court. Surely—surely something can be done.”

Darcy’s jaw tightened slightly, though his tone remained composed. “That is my intention. I do not yet know what form it may take, but I mean to speak with Mr. Bennet tomorrow—discreetly. If there is a path forward, I shall find it.”

Bingley frowned, the color rising in his cheeks. “A thousand pounds is no trifle. You cannot expect to cover it, Bingley.”

“I could,” his friend said. Bingley’s brows rose. “The question is whether I should.”

“Mark my words, Charles. If you intend to pursue any attachment to his eldest daughter within the next few months, your offer would place Mr. Bennet in an impossible position. He could hardly afford to refuse you, nor could he express doubt or hesitation without seeming ungrateful.”

“That would be good, would it not?”

“No, it would be odd, Bingley. You would turn a private decision into a social obligation. The gentleman would feel constrained to accept your suit, out of gratitude, not inclination. And I daresay you would not want that.”

Darcy gave a dry smile.

“You know me too well—I likely would. But I suppose that’s why I need you at my side, Darcy.”

“You are too quick to resolve matters, Bingley,” Darcy added after a moment. “We must consider it thoroughly.”

“Quite right, Darcy. But how in the world did Mr. Bennet gather such debt?”

“He was likely tricked—or foolish—gambling at cards. From what I understand, it has accumulated quietly, in time. As unpleasant as it is, we must find a solution.”

“You may help him with the sum, Darcy. As a matter of fact, I shall reimburse you in full,” Bingley offered without a second thought.

“I could manage the funds,” Darcy admitted, “but that is hardly the point. First, Mr. Bennet does not know that I know his situation. Secondly, I fear he would never speak of it. He would not complain, least to me, a stranger.”

Bingley’s gaze dropped. “Perhaps that is what he intended to discuss when he came to call, and I was in London.”

“Perhaps,” Darcy said slowly. “Or perhaps he meant only to protect you, to keep you from forming expectations around Miss Bennet while knowing that such a connection might become impractical.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“But it is possible, Bingley.”

“God forbid,” Bingley muttered. “The gentleman is kind and well-intentioned. You can read it in his manner at first glance.”

“Then you would not expect such a gentleman to ask for help from two men newly arrived in the county—one a tenant, the other merely visiting?”

“We must force him to accept our help.”

“Hardly,” Darcy said. “We are not yet fully aware of the truth. Neither Mr. Bennet nor his family have asked for assistance. We must begin there. Remember that.”

“Darcy, why must you always be right, my friend? The situation feels hopeless. Still, it would have been worse not to know. I wager that—”

“Bingley, be still. I’ve had an idea. It may not be likely that Mr. Bennet would dare to gamble again after such misfortune, but we might persuade him.”

“Forgive me, Darcy. I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Patience, Bingley. We shall invite Mr. Bennet to a friendly game of cards tomorrow evening—and lose to him, not by accident. We shall lose precisely what he needs. It resolves the matter cleanly, without humiliation or obligation.”

“At the rate I play, I could lose thrice that without meaning to!”

“As I said, my friend, you will not be involved. You will simply assist me.” Darcy leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice with the precision of a man settling practical matters. “Do you happen to know if there are playing cards in the house?”

Bingley gave a short laugh. “It was the last thing on my mind when I moved in. But I daresay the former tenant left a set about somewhere. I shall have Mallory look for them.”

Darcy nodded but remained intent. “He might. Still, we must be efficient about this. We will need two identical decks—not similar, but exact. It would be foolish to rely on chance or lose time searching at the last minute.”

Bingley’s expression sharpened with understanding. “Quite right. I shall send Mallory to Meryton in the morning. He’s a clever and resourceful fellow—we can rely on him in all things. I believe the bookseller keeps such items in stock.”

Darcy allowed himself the faintest smile. “I noticed that too. Perfect, Charles. Let us go about it quietly—and be ready.”

Bingley looked at him, brows raised, a slow smile forming. “You are mad, Darcy.”

Darcy merely shrugged. “Sometimes, Bingley, madness is what’s needed to preserve dignity.”

They exchanged a look—one of mischief barely masked by good breeding—and the matter, for the moment, was settled.