Page 4 of A Letter in the Wind (Mayhem and Scandal Collection #1)

Darcy arose early the next morning and dressed without waiting for his valet. He had told Elizabeth he was not vain about his appearance and meant it. That he rushed through his morning ablutions had nothing to do with eagerness to see her again. He had “happened” upon her every morning this week. After the last few months, he had found it impossible to resist the respite Elizabeth’s company offered.

He set out on the path toward the Hunsford parsonage, hoping to see her once more. This morning, as he walked, unease began to steal away the little joy he discovered. While he had savoured Elizabeth’s smiles and teases, seeing her also brought to mind his earlier arguments against her family.

He did not regret determining that she was unsuitable for pursuit—he had not changed his mind about that. After all, her situation in life was all wrong for him. Additionally, she said she desired to marry for love, but Darcy did not believe in such things. Some gentlemen might feign attachment long enough to secure their lady of choice, but he could never be that dishonest.

No, what weighed on his mind was her declaration that none of her sisters would marry without love and the fact that he had been slightly less than honest. Just a smidgeon. Surely, it would not be enough to bother anyone else. He had concealed Jane Bennet’s presence in London from his friend Bingley. It had been done for his good. Who could fault Darcy for protecting Bingley from a one-sided attachment? Were there not times deceit was done for the greater good? For example, Richard told tales of spies working to discover Boney’s plans. Surely, their dishonesty was necessary and excusable. Marrying the wrong sort of lady could have devastating consequences—if less bloodshed than war.

The trouble with all this lay with Bingley, Elizabeth—and presumably Jane’s—fascination with love. What did it even mean to be in love with someone? Poems and novels were written about falling in love. Well, Darcy preferred to keep his feet firmly on the ground. Furthermore, if you could fall in love, you could fall out. Where was the constancy and loyalty? It all sounded very messy with emotions better left unstirred.

Even if he were wrong about Jane Bennet and she had “loved” Bingley, who could say that feeling would last? She doubtlessly had overcome the sensation by now. She was the most classically beautiful lady of the county and had no shortage of admirers. Her mother knew it well and announced it often. And Bingley? Well, he fell in and out of love every few weeks. Yes, Darcy could congratulate himself on protecting his friend from an ill-suited match based on an impulsive and fleeting feeling.

No matter how often he rehearsed this truth to himself in the last week, his conscience could not get over the deception involved. He had never lied to Bingley about Jane’s presence in London, he had only concealed the information. He was hardly in the habit of reporting on the whereabouts of single ladies. Darcy wracked his memory to think about all his father’s lessons. Was there ever one about the sin of omission? Not that he could recall.

Darcy shook his head. He had spent too much time on the subject and it was already decided. Since childhood, his mind would bring up intrusive thoughts and memories. His father had tried to teach him to ignore them, but sometimes, they persisted. By far, the best strategy was to focus on something else. This time, Darcy chose to rehearse his plan for what to say to Elizabeth this morning.

He had found it necessary to mentally practice his conversation with her lest he spend the entire time silent and brooding. She did not seem to appreciate that; given her comments, she probably misunderstood him. Rather than risk accusing her, he believed it better to allow her greater insight into his character.

Today, he desired to delve past talk about the weather, acquaintances, or family and friends. He intended to show her a clearing he believed she would find captivating. The wind blew strongly, but she had proven resilient and capable against it. Besides, on the way there, it would be against their backs.

Darcy continued his stroll, his eyes eager to see Elizabeth. Unexpectedly, something white blew in the wind. He had not intended to take any heed of it when it swirled right to him. Curious, he snatched it from the air. His eyes widened at what he read.

Dear Lizzy,

Do not worry about me, dearest. I am not unwell, and I am sure my depressed spirits will soon mend. I suppose I ought to have listened to you earlier about the nature of Caroline and Louisa. I cannot understand why they would return my kindness and friendship with such cold cruelty. As difficult as it is, I have forgiven them.

Can Mr Bingley be so deceived in the character of his sisters? It pains me deeply to consider that they might be unrepentantly mean. Surely, that would wound their brother.

How I wish you were here and could tease me into better humour. Perhaps you would tell me that if you were correct about the sisters, you were correct about the gentleman. In spite of that, I think it unwise to continue to hope… No, hope died long ago. I have yearned to see Mr Bingley again and apologise for whatever I have said or done to drive him away and regret our acquaintance. That wish has been crushed.

Aunt Gardiner says I should put this behind me. She wonders if I am taking this so hard due to my age. Typically, it is the much younger that have such heartache falling in love. For the first time. She keeps emphasising that as though it should comfort me. Instead, it confuses me greatly, for she acknowledges that I am not fickle and, therefore, cannot be misled by my feelings. I have had many suitors and know I am not mistaken in understanding my affections. I love him as much today as I did the day I last saw him.

Do they not say time heals all wounds? How much time should it take? Is not six months sufficient? If it were mere infatuation, I should be over it by now.

Was I very foolish to think that, after all these years, the gentleman that I finally loved would love me in return?

I can guess what Papa would say. He would tell me that we must experience some disappointments to add to our character and the story of our lives. I know you would tell me to keep faith in finding the love match I desire above all things. It is difficult to be content and trust, just now. Pray for me, Lizzy.

Please give my love to Charlotte. I know you do not expect to see Mr Darcy again, but if you do, please greet him for me. It is the least I could do to acknowledge a friend of Mr Bingley’s.

The letter did not close before the page finished, and Darcy wondered if there was a postscript or something that warranted a second page. Using a fresh sheet of paper for just a signature was not customary. A great mystery was before him. The letter emphatically proved Jane Bennet’s steadfast love for Charles Bingley. If concealing her location was a lie, what about mistaking her feelings and not correcting his errors? What ought he to do?

A growing discomfort in the pit of his stomach answered that question. His conscience demanded that he make it right. How could he do that without revealing his error and looking officious? He had nearly turned around, intent on thinking it over at Rosings, but a noise on the path startled him.

*****

“Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth approached him quietly. He held a letter and wore an increasingly troubled expression as he read.

“Miss Bennet!” he exclaimed, swiftly hiding his hands behind his back.

The movement was strange unless he desired to hide whatever he read. She could certainly not make out anything from where she stood. He could easily make something up, and she would never be wiser. Her eyes narrowed. Indeed, his actions struck her as suspicious.

“Are you well?” he asked.

His voice was higher than normal. It sounded strained to her. “I am well enough,” she answered. “What about you, sir? It seemed you were reading something when I happened upon you. I shall leave you to it.” She gave him a nod and then stepped forward to continue on the path.

“Pray, wait,” he called out. “May I walk with you?”

Inwardly, Elizabeth rolled her eyes. He had done so every day this week. She could no longer think that he disliked her or that she even annoyed him. Even so, she had thought he highly valued his privacy and solitude.

“Will I not inhibit your capacity to read that letter? I would hate to interfere with your correspondence.”

“I had just finished reading it before you greeted me.” He shoved the paper in his coat pocket before offering his arm.

He looked at her strangely. Why was he behaving so oddly? Well, she did not have a polite excuse to put him off. She shrugged as he did not take the opportunity she provided to continue alone without breaking courtesy. What was it to her? However, when he placed her hand upon his arm, and the familiar tingle spread through her, she was less confident in her indifference.

“I am glad to see you this morning.”

Putting aside her mistrust at the resumption of his usual tone, Elizabeth gave a polite smile. “I suppose you grow tired of Rosings. I have noticed that Miss de Bourgh is not very lively. When did you say your other cousin will arrive?”

“Indeed, Anne is reticent even with me. I am unsure about Richard’s plans, but I could never prefer his company to yours.”

Elizabeth’s brows flew up in surprise. This was beyond toleration. It was nearly flirtatious. Why would he say such a thing? He was engaged to Miss de Bourgh, was he not? Rather than think Mr Darcy so dishonourable, Elizabeth mused perhaps Colonel Fitzwilliam of the same disposition as his cousins. “I suppose the good colonel is sedate and Mr Bingley is your only energetic friend.”

Darcy laughed. “Richard probably surpasses Bingley in terms of frivolity. He always has a tease or prank. Growing up, he was always the jokester and has not ceased his ways although he now fights for King and country.”

“I see,” Elizabeth answered. She must remind Darcy of his cousin and friend, which is why he now felt comfortable around her.

He looked at her with an uncertain, almost pained expression. When he spoke, everything tumbled out in a rush. “I had hoped to see you this morning because I desire to show you something I think you will keenly appreciate.”