Page 28

D arcy sat uncomfortably in Longbourn’s sitting room amid the Bennet ladies. At least the noise was less cacophonous than usual, given the two youngest had gone into Meryton.

He tried to keep his gaze from Bingley and his Miss Bennet, conversing quietly and contentedly, oblivious to the rest of the occupants of the room.

Mrs. Bennet kept trying to come up with conversational gambits, for most of which Darcy had no idea how to respond, although he attempted what he could, while the third daughter kept her attention on the book in front of her with fierce and quite unwarranted attention.

Darcy was unutterably relieved when the housekeeper entered the room. “The master will see you now, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy rose to his feet in relief, and bowed at his hostess. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Bennet.”

In the library, Bennet nodded at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you called, Mr. Darcy, but I am glad to see you have survived the wait.” His voice was sardonic. “While you are on your feet, perhaps you would pour us each a drink.”

Darcy bowed. “My pleasure, sir.” His carefully prepared speech to explain why he was here drained out of his mind.

“I confess I am curious as to the reason for your call?” Bennet’s voice was light and apparently disinterested, but his gaze was astute.

Darcy could hardly confess to the same feeling, and he didn’t want Bennet to suspect that he was concerned about Miss Elizabeth; what she was doing in town; would she be back for the ball tomorrow, and whether she was as distressed by Collins as Bingley had said her sister had thought.

He sat opposite the man in silence, sipping the whisky — a very fine malt, he acknowledged approvingly.

“Come, Mr. Darcy, I believe we must have some conversation.” Bennet’s voice was amused, and Darcy felt himself flush. He wondered how long they had sat in silence, and glanced at the clock.

“Fifteen minutes.” Bennet answered his unspoken question. “And I cannot imagine you had not prepared what you wanted to say before you even arrived here.”

Darcy acknowledged the truth of the comment with a rueful smile. “It seems foolish now that I am here to ask you.”

“What are our neighbours except to make sport of, each in their turn?” Bennet glanced across at him.

“I have no doubt you thought ill of us before; I would like perhaps to make the scores even. And of course, I will keep my own counsel. You can be sure your words will go no further, provided you are not planning anything of a criminal nature.” The man grinned mischievously, his smile arresting Darcy by the similarity to Miss Elizabeth’s own mannerism.

Then he chided himself; as a family, there would be much similar in their mannerisms. He smiled reluctantly.

“Bingley told me of the difficulty here last Tuesday. He told me Mr. Collins had behaved in the manner we expected of him and you decided to send him from the house.” He took a deep breath.

“He has also told me that Miss Elizabeth was then summoned to town by her aunt and uncle, and Miss Bennet thought she was distressed by it.” There was more he wanted to say, but he must wait to see how the man responded to him.

Bennet gazed unblinkingly at him for some time, and Darcy shifted uncomfortably, forcing himself not to break the silence. Finally, Bennet spoke.

“I had presumed the fact that Elizabeth had gone to town as the reason you no longer called here with Mr. Bingley.”

Darcy bowed his head. “As Bingley and Miss Bennet are now betrothed, he is able to spend a large part of each day with Miss Bennet. I felt I would be superfluous.” Whilst true, it was not the answer, and from his raised eyebrow, Bennet had noticed.

Darcy tried to keep his face impassive, but it was more difficult than before, and he had the impression that Bennet was far too astute to miss what was not said.

“Do you want me to express my thanks to Lady Catherine for the information conveyed in her letter to you, so that you can convey my gratitude?”

Darcy was startled. “I had not thought so. After all, you did not wish to promote Collins’ marriage with Miss Elizabeth.”

“Neither did you.” Bennet leaned forward.

“I do not enjoy verbal sparring around a topic, Mr. Darcy. Pray forgive me for speaking plainly. I believe you have developed an interest in Elizabeth, and you are trying to find out what she is doing in town; if she will be returning to Longbourn, and if so, when that might be.”

Darcy swallowed. Spoken baldly like that, it was not welcome. But he could not say it was untrue.

He looked down. “I should not be doing this.” His whisper was virtually inaudible, but Bennet heard him.

“Sometimes these things work outside our own determination, Mr. Darcy. I will, of course, not speak of it here. But I can tell you plainly, Elizabeth will not be returning to Longbourn in the near future. She has travelled to the north with her aunt and will not be back for the ball. You must make your plans knowing that.”

Darcy raised his head. “Will she be returning to stand up with her sister at her marriage to my friend?” It was his last hope — he knew the ladies had always promised each other so.

Bennet’s face was sorrowful now. “I do not know,” he said softly. “Please keep that in confidence; Jane has not yet thought to ask.”

The rest of the sentence hung unspoken in the air. Bennet did not expect to see his daughter returning home for some considerable time.

Darcy knew his shoulders slumped, and the emptiness of hopelessness squeezed his heart. He stared at the floor. He must take his leave.

He clenched his jaw, and raised his head. “Thank you for your frankness, Mr. Bennet. I will leave you now.”

He did not know how he got out of the room, how he mounted his horse, or made his way back to Netherfield.

But, shut away in his chambers, he could drop into the great leather armchair by the fire, lean back and close his eyes.

The image of Miss Elizabeth appeared behind his closed lids, the skirts of her gown swirling around her dainty ankles as she walked briskly along the paths around Meryton.

His thoughts had been full of Miss Elizabeth from the moment he knew she had left Longbourn. His nights were restless and his dreams full of her.

But now she was gone. Not just to town, but travelling in the north. There had been no encouragement from Bennet, no sign that he might have hope for the future. He had lost her.

Perhaps it was for the best. Darcy had been telling himself for weeks that he could not pursue Miss Elizabeth, that she was beneath him in every way.

Now, her own father had told him there was no hope for him, even if he did not say it in plain words.

Darcy would go to town. He could immerse himself in matters of business, and pay attention to Georgiana.

He could forget this time of madness. He could forget Miss Elizabeth. Couldn’t he?