Page 67 of Count the Cost (The Secrets of Elizabeth Bennet #2)

D arcy sat at his desk, his head in his hands.

He was weary, the cold of exhaustion seeping into his very bones.

He had yet to clear the arrears of correspondence on his desk; he was still thinking of the settlements.

Though he had written everything he could think of, he found that every few hours, he added further detail to his instructions.

The issue was still waking him at night and he had to get up and make a note of whatever it was he had thought of that might help her to feel more secure in her independence.

Tomorrow, he had an appointment with his lawyer. Gibson was utterly discreet and trustworthy, and Darcy could trust him to make the settlements secure for Elizabeth’s sake.

But it had taken all his energy; and he would still need to catch up on his correspondence. Mr. Reed was competent to manage Pemberley in his absence, but he liked to keep Darcy informed of everything, and Darcy appreciated his candour.

He smiled to himself; the man’s nephew was Mr. Joseph Reed, and he was amused that Elizabeth had her own Mr. Reed as her man of business. And he had been impressed with the man when he had met him at Christmas; he had proved discreet as well as competent.

A perfunctory rap at the door and Richard burst in, although fortunately Darcy had managed to straighten up and look less harried.

“Brace yourself, Darcy. I have news you will not wish to hear, but you must. Something must be done.”

Another problem that only he could solve. “Is Georgiana all right?”

“Georgiana? Oh, yes, it’s not family. It’s about Miss Bennet.” Richard dropped into the chair by the fire, as dread twisted round Darcy’s heart.

“Miss Elizabeth?”

“I’m sorry, Darce.” His cousin did look chagrined, Darcy saw. “But Miss Bingley is used to whispering rumour and vicious lies; I am afraid gossip is spreading in town.”

Darcy crossed the room to the decanter. He would pour Richard a drink and he most certainly needed one himself. “What gossip?”

His cousin slouched down in the chair and seemed reluctant to speak.

But eventually, he looked up. “Apparently, at the wedding, although you were standing up with Bingley, you had eyes for no one but Miss Bennet,” he hesitated, “and that you barely moved from her side throughout the wedding breakfast.”

Darcy lost patience. “I suppose nobody mentioned that it is the duty of the groomsman to escort the bride’s attendant?”

Richard shrugged. “That, Cousin, would spoil the story. Unfortunately, that is not all. On its own, everybody would merely laugh at Miss Bingley for her shrewish words and missed opportunity to catch you for herself. But then someone else — I don’t know who — linked the gossip with the fact that Miss Bennet is now living in a very comfortable country house not far from town, although there is no way that she can afford it, and together the rumours insinuated that you have set her up as your mistress. ”

“What!” Darcy burst out. “Why does society even know about Miss Elizabeth? She is not out in town!”

“Sit down, Cousin, before you fall down.” Richard’s voice was gentle. “I am sorry to have bought it to your attention but it cannot be ignored.”

“No, of course not,” Darcy shook his head. How will Elizabeth bear the shame? Will she believe I have been indiscreet?

“Of course, a few people who were at the house party you went to have heard the gossip and have added the information that you walked with her there.”

Darcy put down his drink carefully. Had she heard of this already? He would have to go to her as soon as he could. He crossed back to his desk and scribbled a quick note, sealing it and writing the direction.

He summoned the butler and when the man entered the room, he gave him the note. “Have this sent to Mr. Gibson at once and tell the man to wait for a reply. And have my coach brought round.”

Richard’s eyebrows were raised. Darcy shook his head. “I am hoping to bring forward my appointment from tomorrow with him.”

“Is it to do with these rumours then?”

Darcy nodded reluctantly. “You will have to excuse me, cousin. I must go out.” He glanced at the clock, it was a reasonable hour to go.

“But then you will not get the reply to your note.” Richard was very puzzled. “And you cannot be seen going to Miss Bennet!”

It would take some minutes to ready the coach, and Darcy reluctantly sat back down.

He would request Gibson prepare at least draft settlements by the end of today if it could be contrived.

He would go to the Gardiners this afternoon and explain.

Perhaps he could call on Elizabeth there, and not be seen going to Oakfield.

But if he had to go to Oakfield, it would be better not to use a Darcy coach.

Elizabeth . Her honour was at stake here. Once rumours took hold, it was almost impossible to erase them from the minds of vicious harpies.

He was furious with all of them. If he could find out who it was, he would cut every single one of them.

Beginning with Miss Bingley. How could she do this, especially now that Bingley was married to the former Miss Bennet?

He thought with grim amusement that the rumours would rebound on her, since she was now related to the Bennets. But he would never recognise her again.

Then guilt began to eat at him. If he had never confronted her, never given her cause to distrust him, he might have offered for her and been accepted before now. Then his name would have kept her safe.

Another thought hit him with the force of a thunderbolt.

If he offered for her now, would she accept him merely to save her reputation, and that of her remaining unmarried sisters?

Might she even think he had only proposed to her to save his own reputation?

He mopped his brow. That would be intolerable.

He wanted her to accept him with love and trust, and not feel compelled.

The butler entered with two notes on a tray, and Darcy took them hurriedly. One from Gibson’s office, and one where the direction was written in an unknown hand. He ripped open the one from Gibson.

Sighing with frustration, he threw it onto his desk. Gibson was out of his office today, but his secretary offered Darcy an appointment at four o’clock, when the man was expected back.

Before he accepted, he had better see what the other note was about. He steeled himself; had someone else decided to inform him about the rumours?

Mr Darcy

My wife and I have been distressed to hear that there are some rumours circulating about our niece Elizabeth which also include you.

I have written to her to ask her to call on us tomorrow — she can do so discreetly in her usual way. We would be grateful if you might see your way to call in the afternoon then, as I believe we need to discuss the matter.

If you come to the back of the house at 23 Gracechurch Street, I believe you will be able to alight discreetly.

I remain, Sir, your obedient servant,

Edward Gardiner, Esq.

He would have to wait until tomorrow. Would Gibson have managed a draft of the settlements by then? He could only hope. He was glad he had spoken to the Gardiners at the wedding; it seemed to him that Elizabeth relied on them a great deal.

He turned to his butler. “Please apologise to the coachman, I cannot drive out at present, so he may stand down. But I shall require the carriage at half past three, and the unmarked one will be needed tomorrow. There will also be a reply to send within ten minutes.”

The man bowed and left the room.

“Well, I can see you are taking command of this sorry affair.” Richard’s voice startled Darcy. He had quite forgotten he was there. Hastily, he raised the decanter and his eyebrow. His cousin nodded and held out his glass.

“I think you had failed to remember that I was here.” Richard seemed amused.

“I had.” Darcy sighed and went to his desk. His notes for the initial settlement would have to do, but if they were a draft, they could be added to. He smiled slightly, she would like that.

He hastily wrote a reply to Mr. Gardiner, expressing his shock at what had happened, and that he would join them as suggested.

Elizabeth. This was what she had been afraid of if her business interests became known. At least that was still unknown. But she had been right to distrust people, to attempt to keep her secrets. And he had confronted her, accused her of failing to trust him. He was a thoughtless, heartless person.

He dropped back into the chair.

“I am sorry, Darcy. You do not deserve this.” Richard’s quiet voice penetrated his self-castigation, and he looked up.

“It is Miss Elizabeth who does not deserve this.” He rubbed his forehead wearily.

“And I am afraid to say that Mother is having second thoughts about her approval; the gossip has made even her hesitate.”

“And you?” Darcy raised an eyebrow.

“No, not me. I know you are too honourable for that. But what are you going to do?”

“That appointment with Gibson I had made for tomorrow? That was to draft settlements so that Elizabeth can feel safe and retain much of her independence even after marriage.” He turned to his cousin.

“She has been determined not to marry, but I have been hoping to court her and gain her acceptance of my offer. But this; this is a real setback. I would not wish her to feel forced.”

“I am sorry, Darce. If there is anything I can do, anything at all?”

Darcy shrugged. “I don’t think it’ll make any difference, but at the club, you might remind people of my dreadful reputation as a bore, and that my nickname at school was The Monk. Perhaps they will convince themselves I am too stuffy to ever do what is rumoured.”

Richard chortled. “I might, at that.” He leaned forward.

“And just imagine, if you and Miss Bennet do marry, Miss Bingley will wish she had never started the rumours!” He jumped to his feet.

“You must be seen out and about and unconcerned, Darcy. Let us walk in the Park for a while. And remember, I stand by you. From what I saw of her, she is an estimable lady.”

Darcy glanced out of the window. Elizabeth. Has she heard? If she has, what is she thinking? Maybe any visitors she might have expected will have sent their excuses. He must do all he could to protect her name.

He hoped very much that she had not yet heard the vile whispers. But even as he thought it, a sense of unease told him he was already too late.