Page 4

A COMMISSION FOR DARCY

D arcy arrived at Hurst’s house ten minutes early and chose to continue to the end of the street and stroll around Grosvenor Square before coming back to knock at the door. Anything to avoid prolonging his visit.

Hurst had asked him to call. Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley wished to speak to him about their brother, apparently.

It had surprised Darcy to learn that Bingley was not staying with them as he usually did, but since there was no topic he was less inclined to discuss than his errant friend, he had disregarded the anomaly.

He might have disregarded the summons, too, except that, inexplicably, despite knowing he would never see her again, he was still deeply concerned for Elizabeth’s reputation.

If there was any chance that Bingley’s sisters suspected something that might expose the Bennets to scandal, he should like to know.

He knew not what he would be able to tell them; he had not seen his friend since they left Netherfield.

The day after the ball, he had informed Bingley of his ill-timed obtrusion into the library.

Bingley had made a feeble attempt to justify himself: he had admired Jane Bennet but had not believed she returned the sentiment; Mrs Bennet had been uncommonly encouraging and was, he was adamant, as handsome as any of her daughters; he had drunk too much and regretted it profoundly.

The only point on which they had agreed was that Bingley must leave Hertfordshire without delay.

He had since gone to ground, and Darcy had avoided any place he thought he might be.

He did not like to think of their friendship as permanently at an end, for Bingley was an old and valued acquaintance whose usually impeccable character ought not to be wholly eclipsed by a single error of judgment—but it was one hell of an error!

“It is a pleasure to see you again after so long,” Mrs Hurst began when he was shown into the drawing room. “One can scarcely believe it is six weeks since we were at Netherfield together. Would you like some tea? A slice of cake?”

“No, thank you. I cannot stay long.”

His refusal seemed to fluster her; her smile faltered, and she looked anxiously at her sister, who took up the conversation.

“If you are in a hurry, I shall come directly to the point. Have you seen my brother lately?”

“I am afraid not.”

“I feared as much. Neither have we. As you have no doubt gathered, he has declined Louisa’s kind hospitality in favour of hotels or other friends’ houses. And he has been avoiding us.”

“He has repeatedly cancelled or outright refused our dinner arrangements, though his excuses are always vague,” Mrs Hurst put in. “He is never where he says he will be—he keeps moving about between lodgings, so our letters are returned unread. We have no idea where he is presently staying.”

Miss Bingley shook her head sorrowfully. “It is not in Charles’s nature to be secretive, and we cannot help but wonder at the reason for it.”

Guilt, Darcy had to assume. “I comprehend your disquiet, but I am not sure what can be done. Bingley is his own man.”

“That is just the thing,” Miss Bingley replied.

“Charles is so often not his own man where stronger convictions prevail. He is used to conceding to the advice and example of his friends.” She paused and regarded him meaningfully.

“He has certainly always had a stronger dependence on your judgment than his own. Without your guidance these past weeks, he seems to have…lost his way.”

“I hope, madam, you do not mean to lay the blame for his conduct to my charge. I am no more his keeper than you are.”

Miss Bingley let out a strained laugh. “You mistake my meaning, sir. I— we only meant that you have always been able to direct him so easily. We thought you might have more success than us in discovering the reason for his present behaviour and drawing him back before his reputation suffers.”

Darcy bristled at the implication that he led Bingley by the nose.

“If that is true, then my continuing to direct him would only worsen his dependence. I am sorry. I have no wish to involve myself in this.” Seeing their disappointment, he added, “I cannot imagine he is involved in anything especially worrisome.”

After a quick glance at her sister, Miss Bingley shifted forwards to the edge of her seat, her hands clasped together in her lap and her head tilted as though she was about to break the news that someone had died. “I have had a letter. From Jane Bennet. She has come to town?—”

“And has expressed the hope of seeing us during her stay,” Mrs Hurst interrupted. “We can safely assume that by ‘us’ she means Charles. It is a calculated and vulgar scheme to entrap him.”

“Indeed, it is,” Miss Bingley agreed. “And we cannot overlook the possibility that it has succeeded. We fear this may be the reason Charles is being so secretive—because he is courting Jane Bennet.”

“I sincerely hope he is not!” Darcy exclaimed, appalled by the very idea of Bingley taking up with the woman whose mother he had already?—

He pushed himself out of his chair and stalked to the window.

As he glared at the street below, contemplating that, with behaviour such as this, it was becoming harder and harder to see how he and Bingley could ever recover their friendship, a carriage pulled up outside.

He watched a young lady step down from it and pause to speak to someone still inside before turning to approach Hurst’s front door.

“You have a visitor.”

The woman stepped back to peer up at the house, and Darcy straightened his spine in alarm.

“It is Miss Bennet.”

Mrs Hurst hastened to the window, protesting loudly. “The boldness of the woman! I shall not receive her.”

“Then you will miss an easy opportunity to answer some questions about your brother.” Darcy did not look at her as he said this; his eyes were still on the carriage as he waited to discover who was seated within.

“Mr Darcy is correct,” Miss Bingley said. “She may know where Charles is.”

With a sharp sigh, Mrs Hurst gave the instruction to a footman to show Miss Bennet up and bring some more refreshments.

A moment later, Darcy watched her be let into the house and the carriage drive away, its other occupant still inside.

He told himself that his keen sense of disappointment was merely the irritation of unsated curiosity, and nothing to do with Elizabeth not having accompanied her sister.

He turned back to the room to await Miss Bennet’s arrival.

He observed her as she came in, took a seat, and accepted a cup of tea.

She was unchanged from how she had been in Hertfordshire—open and engaging, though obviously nervous.

She expressed surprise at finding him among the party but received no explanation for it before Miss Bingley made her unscrupulous opening gambit.

“How wicked you are for giving us no notice of your being in town!”

Darcy frowned at the falsehood but said nothing for fear of worsening the situation. Miss Bennet replied that she had written from Longbourn, and it was agreed that the letter must have been lost.

“What brings you to London?” Mrs Hurst enquired.

“We are visiting my aunt and uncle.”

“We?” Miss Bingley said. “Is all your family staying in…where did you say your uncle’s house was?”

“Gracechurch Street—and no, it is only Lizzy and me.”

Darcy was dismayed by the effect this news had on him. He had thought himself better recovered from his fascination than to be set on edge by the mere mention of Elizabeth’s proximity. He held himself still and did his best to pay no heed to the unnerving sensation.

“She sends her regards of course.”

“I trust she is in good health?”

Apparently, Darcy was even less recovered than he thought. He had not meant to say that aloud. “And all your family?” he added to make himself less obvious.

“They are all well, thank you, sir. And your sister? I hope Miss Darcy had an enjoyable Christmas.”

“She did, thank you. We spent it with my uncle and his family.”

For some reason, Miss Bennet appeared surprised by this. “I had understood that you both expected to be much engaged with Mr Bingley over winter.”

From her uncertain glance at Miss Bingley, and that lady’s slight blush, Darcy thought he could guess whence she had received her information. “I have not seen Bingley since I left Hertfordshire, madam.”

She looked yet more taken aback. “I hope he is well?”

Miss Bingley hastened to explain the ‘misunderstanding’, rolling out a litany of excuses about how much time her brother was spending at his club and with all his countless friends.

Darcy paid her no heed and instead watched Miss Bennet closely.

Her concern seemed genuine, as did her confusion—and, dare he say it, relief—regarding Bingley’s recent activities.

Evidently, she had not wished him to be spending time with Georgiana.

To Darcy’s mind, this raised two concerns.

First, that Miss Bingley had been wrong to assume it was Miss Bennet with whom her brother had been consorting.

Second, that he had been wrong to assume Miss Bennet felt nothing for Bingley.

Which, in turn, gave weight to Mrs Hurst’s original suspicion that she had come to town with the hope of rekindling the acquaintance.

Darcy repressed a sigh. Bingley’s indiscretion was made substantially worse considering what Miss Bennet’s hopes appeared to be—and their becoming reacquainted would make it infinitely more likely that it would be discovered. It must be prevented.

The visit dragged on for ten more awkward minutes. At length Mrs Hurst, who was seated nearest the window, asked, “Is that your carriage I see waiting outside, Miss Bennet?”

“Quite possibly,” she answered. “The coachman had only to drop my aunt two streets away before returning to wait for me.”

“Well, that is most fortunate, for Caroline and I were just on our way out when you called.”

Miss Bingley came to her feet. “You do not mind, do you? We would not have chased you away otherwise, but as you have the means to get home…”

Miss Bennet took the hint, stood, and gathered up her reticule and gloves. “I shall not delay you.”

With both Bingley women momentarily occupied whispering to each other near the window, Darcy saw his chance of a quiet word with Miss Bennet. Rising from his chair, he walked to stand at her shoulder with his back to the others. “I daresay you hoped to see Bingley today, Miss Bennet.”

He was close enough that she could not fully turn around, but she cast him a look of confusion and affront over her shoulder. “No, indeed, sir, I?—”

“Let me recommend you not to misinterpret his happy manners. I fear he may have inadvertently raised your expectations while he was in Hertfordshire, but any hope for a renewal of his attentions is in vain. An alliance is out of the question.”

She blushed deeply. “Mr Darcy, I do not know what you think?—”

He cut her off by stepping backwards and bowing. “Good day Miss Bennet.”

Miss Bingley came forwards to shepherd Miss Bennet out of the room and into the care of a footman who would see her out. She closed the door behind them and slumped theatrically against it. “Well! That was quite the dullest morning call in living memory.”

Mrs Hurst tittered stupidly as though this were the height of wit. “The only thing that could have made it worse was if she had brought her sister!”

“Small mercy that we were spared that torment! But I shall have to return the call.”

“Perhaps—but not soon. You would not like to encourage her.”

“It is Bingley who ought not to have encouraged her,” Darcy snapped. He could not be easy with the frankness of his words to Miss Bennet, nor the pain they had evidently given, and he was furious that Bingley’s actions had made it necessary. “Will you excuse me? I must be going myself.”

Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst shared another of their silent glances, then Mrs Hurst said, “What about Charles?”

“What about him? You were worried he was courting Miss Bennet. Now you know he is not, or she would never have come here in this way.”

“But if he has not been with her, then his evasiveness is yet more concerning.”

“Will you not speak to him for us?” Miss Bingley said plaintively.

“You said you did not know where he was presently staying.”

“We hoped you might have a better idea of where he might be found.”

Darcy gritted his teeth; he suspected they would not relent, and he had no wish to remain any longer. “I shall see what I can do. But I make no promises.” He waved away their gratitude and stalked from the house.