Page 33 of Done for the Best (Engaged to Mr Darcy #5)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

THAT’S WHAT SHE SAYED

S aye descended the steps slowly, the ten-pound note from Darcy held loosely in his hand. The whole of the performance this afternoon had been dissatisfying and nonsensical. Miss Elizabeth hung back like a skittish pony in its first bridle, and Darcy had stormed off like his rear end got chapped. Utter rot, first to last.

Entering the drawing room, he saw a sight that displeased him further. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had seated herself at the far end of the room at the escritoire and was staring at the wallpaper. Making a brown study of it too, by the looks of it. She glanced at him when he entered, quickly searching behind him; she was unable to hide the look of disappointment on her face on observing Darcy’s absence. Bloody hell, Darcy, come to the drawing room, you fool.

Saye then cut his eyes towards the little sofa where Miss Bingley lolled with her friend, both of them murmuring and giggling over La Belle Assemblée and ignoring the other two ladies in the room . Excessively rude.

There were those who found Saye himself rude, and he would not argue the point. He was sometimes rude, frequently unfeeling, generally insensitive—but not towards people he might actually injure. And mostly towards those who deserved it. Which Miss Elizabeth Bennet did not. She appeared rather pitiful, in fact.

He approached her directly. “Something tells me you might like a ride home.”

She looked relieved and rose. As she did, she took up a folded page that had lain in front of her but said nothing about it. “If it does not inconvenience you too greatly, I would much appreciate being escorted home.”

“Consider it done,” he proclaimed gallantly and told her he would send the nearest footman to call for the carriage while she informed her sister that she was prepared to leave. Bingley looked terribly disappointed at the notion that Saye would take his lady back to her home.

“But surely we will all meet tonight?” Saye said. “At the assembly?”

Bingley’s face brightened. “Oh yes! Surely all the Bennet ladies will be in attendance there?”

“Yes, we will,” said Miss Bennet. “To be sure. Lizzy?”

Miss Elizabeth echoed her sister’s sentiments, but Saye observed that she looked rather ill at ease.

It was a thankfully quick business to get the two ladies back home. Miss Elizabeth was silent throughout the short journey, and Miss Bennet, while lovely, was no conversationalist. It was a relief to enter the drive. Saye handed Miss Bennet down and then thought frantically of what he might say to Miss Elizabeth to learn something of her mind in regards to Darcy.

As it transpired, he did not need to. As soon as he had her down, she reached into her pocket and slowly withdrew the folded page. Without meeting his eye, she asked, “Would you please give that to Mr Darcy?”

Although Darcy did not precisely recollect wagering Saye ten pounds to get Elizabeth to Netherfield, he paid him. Always easier to pay than argue with Saye, and in any case, it made him leave faster.

Darcy then took a book and sat by the fireplace, feeling as empty and hollow as it was. The book remained unopened on his lap while he sat and bemoaned the pitiful state of things, the opportunity that had come and gone from him. He requested, and received, dinner on a tray in his bedchamber, fully intending to spend the night indulging in the blue devils.

His reverie was interrupted by the arrival of his man, Fields, who bustled in speaking of baths and pomade and preferences in waistcoats.

“What on earth do you speak of, Fields?”

Fields stopped. “The assembly, sir.”

“An assembly? No. Send my regrets.”

“As you wish, sir.” Looking like he had more to say but knowing it was not his place, his man bowed and left the room.

Darcy turned determinedly to his book but had managed to read nothing by the time Fields returned looking distinctly uneasy. “Your cousin has sent his regrets about your regrets, sir.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he does not excuse you. He said either I see you dressed or lose my position.”

Darcy rolled his eyes. “Happily, Saye has nothing to say about your position, so you have my permission to tell him to go and flog himself.”

Fields permitted himself a small smile before again quitting the room. He returned only minutes later. “Lord Saye said he means to come up here and bathe you himself if needed and went so far as to enquire of Mrs Nicholls where he might find the buckets.”

“Good Lord!” Darcy tossed his book aside and went to berate his cousin. Fields mentioned that he would find him in the billiard room. His strides echoed in a satisfying manner as he went through Netherfield’s halls, indeed finding Saye and Bingley playing billiards.

“Not only am I not going to the assembly, I fear I must depart in the morning,” he announced as he came through the door, in a tone that he hoped would not betray the fact that the idea had only just occurred to him.

“What?” Bingley looked up from the shot he had been about to place. “Darcy, pray do not?—”

“Urgent business calls me to London,” he said firmly, glaring at Saye. “I will be gone at first light.”

Saye was standing on the side, drink in hand, presumably awaiting his turn at the table. After a noisy slurp of his drink, he said, “On the Sabbath ? A gentleman would not do such a savage thing, and as your superior in consequence, age, and good looks, I cannot allow it.”

“He is right,” Bingley said urgently, leaning against his stick. “You would not wish to travel on the Sabbath.”

Sunday. Of all the luck! Darcy closed his eyes briefly. “No, um, I had forgotten what day it was. Monday is when I mean to go.”

“Then you can easily attend the assembly this evening!” Bingley concluded happily. Easy to be happy now that all of his romantic struggles are set aright , Darcy thought sourly.

Saye took another disgustingly loud slurp that Darcy did not doubt was designed to vex him—he loathed mouth noises and Saye knew it.

“Monday does not work for me, old man,” Saye announced setting down his drink and moving to the table. “On Monday, Miss Goddard is coming to Netherfield, and I will probably end the day an engaged man.”

“I hope she refuses you if only to teach you some humility,” Darcy informed his cousin.

“She will not refuse me, and in any case, I am already as humble as someone of my privilege could be. Furthermore, as my tedious brother is not here, I fear the family welcome falls to you, sir,” Saye informed him as he set himself up for a shot. “Leave your business until Wednesday or so, and I can accompany you back to London.”

“That will not do. I am afraid it is more urgent than that.”

Bingley nodded sympathetically, but Saye looked sceptical, glancing up from the shot he was setting. “Sounds very important,” he said. “What is it, then?”

“Alas, I cannot divulge it.”

“In other words,” Saye shot, the balls cracking loudly against one another, “it is nothing. Do not turn tail, Darcy. Stay.”

“Turning tail? I have no idea what you mean. I have urgent business and must leave.”

“If it is so urgent, surely it would be easy enough to tell me the substance of it?” Saye straightened and placed one hand on his hip. “And I am curious as to why, between two men of business, a secretary in London and a steward at Pemberley, it cannot be managed by someone else? If these people cannot do their duty and leave you to enjoy yourself, I say release the lot of them.”

“If you need a new secretary,” Bingley began, “I have recently learnt that Mr Edmund Williams?—”

“I do not need a new secretary. My people do their duties perfectly well,” Darcy retorted, then rubbed his temple. “But it is something that requires?—”

Saye strolled over to him. “If you would simply tell us what it is”—his cousin put an arm about his shoulders—“we could surely come up with a solution that does not require you to abandon your dear friend and even dearer cousin and scamper off to London.”

“I am not scampering anywhere.”

“What say we send my father an express?” Saye offered brightly. “He is in London even now and can surely be prevailed upon to be of use to you in this desperate time, hm? And the rider could be there yet tonight! An even better solution to this very plaguing business of yours.”

“Very well,” Darcy said in a low, angry voice. “I shall see what I can do by letter.”

“Splendid!” Bingley cried out.

“Oh, speaking of a letter…that reminds me.” Saye made a great show of patting himself all over his coat, as if he was searching for something. His bit of theatre done at last, he extracted a folded page. “For you.”

“From whom?” Darcy asked as he took it. “What is it?”

Saye shrugged. “From a friend. Now off you go, I am trying to run up your ten pounds here by beating your friend at billiards.”

There was nothing on the outside of the folded page, and it was not sealed. He peeked inside only enough to see a feminine hand, then set off for his bedchamber at a rapid pace. As he went, he absently wondered whether Saye had read its contents, for he never was one to restrain his curiosity. He could scarcely manage to restrain his own feelings on it—curiosity, hope, dread, anxiety. He knew not which should be taking the chief seat within him as he took the stairs two at a time to get to his bedchamber.

He was unfolding the letter before the door was fully closed behind him. There was no salutation, only a quick entry into the thoughts of her heart.

I hope not to pain you or to force you to review feelings that you would much rather forget, but it seems that if I remain silent, I run the risk of losing you forever. Perhaps I already have, and these words are written in vain, but I could not allow it to be without at least trying.

I have never said these words to another, nor do I think I ever shall, save for to you, but I must tell you that I love you. I know not when I began, for I have forgot all of our beginning, but I am in full comprehension of my heart as it is today, and it is wholly yours.

You may be too angry with me to receive these sentiments gladly. I know I pained you by acting so foolishly with regards to Mr W, and in this I can only beg your forgiveness. We have many mistakes and misunderstandings between us, and my resentment in the matter of our presumed betrothal has been, to this point, implacable, but my heart is no longer hardened. I wish only that we might discuss what troubles have arisen between us and, I hope, lay them aside.

If your affections and wishes are unchanged, I daresay I will understand it by your manner towards me. But do know that if not, one word from you will silence me on this subject forever. I do not mean to plague you with love that is too late, and too little. Only for this once will I plead with you to relieve my suffering and ask me again to be your wife.

Either way my heart will remain as yours,

EB

Elation made Darcy dizzy and warm, and he sat on his bed and then stood and paced too many times to count. He read and re-read and then read it some more, then recognised he was grinning like a madman over it. Shall I go to Longbourn now? No, the assembly—I must dress. Where is Fields?

He rang for his man who came at once, well prepared for the task ahead. Darcy had never been so eager for an assembly in his entire life, fairly twitching in anticipation. More than once, Fields had to ask him to be still while he shaved him.

Darcy wondered whether Mr Bennet would go to the assembly. Could you ask a father for his daughter’s hand in marriage at an assembly? How he longed for the hour to pass quickly!

Just as Fields had handed him his waistcoat, the door opened without a knock, and Saye entered, a gimlet eye upon his cousin’s attire. “Is that your notion of polished shoes?” he asked Fields. “Let me get some Champagne.”

“Yes, sir,” Fields said agreeably.

“No, sir,” Darcy interjected. “My shoes will do, Saye. Worry about your own attire.”

“My shoes are already shined,” Saye replied blithely, as he took a seat in Darcy’s chair. He held up one foot to exhibit the gleaming shoe. “Is that the new perfume you wear? I like it. Fields, is there something you can put in his cravat that will sparkle? I think it helps draw a lady’s eye.”

“My cravat pin will do well enough,” Darcy replied. “Do you need something?”

Saye languidly crossed one leg over the other, withdrew a small mirror from his pocket, and began to examine the condition of his teeth. “What did the letter say? Does she still wish to marry you?”

Darcy raised his chin to allow Fields to tie his cravat. “She cannot still wish to marry me because she never before wished to marry me.”

“Yes, Darcy, do concentrate on the grammar of the situation,” said Saye. “You know my meaning.”

“Things are as yet undecided. Will Miss Goddard be at the assembly this evening?”

“I doubt it, but one can always hope. If she is, I will know it is wholly for me.”

Darcy rolled his eyes.

“You tell me what else would bring her here,” Saye retorted indignantly. “If she is here, she is mine. I will know it. But we are speaking of you! Are you not glad I kept you here?”

“I am.”

Fields finished, and after asking Darcy if he required anything else, quit the room.

“Will you propose again tonight?” Saye enquired. Darcy responded with a maddening—he hoped—shrug.

“Good Lord, man! Tell me something! I tell you everything, likely more than you wish to know!”

“Decidedly more than I wish to know,” Darcy agreed. “And I can tell you only this: she loves me, and I love her. The rest will be sorted out naturally.”