Page 2 of Gentlemen of Honor (Bennet Gang Duology #2)
Sheer Madness
His mind reeling with his revelation about the Boney Bandits, Darcy went to the drawing room seeking Bingley, intent on warning his friend about how terribly they’d been deceived. Darcy halted in the doorway to the sight of the Hursts at cards, Mrs. Hurst losing by her pinched expression, and Miss Bingley occupying the writing desk, notes about the upcoming ball, to take place on the final Tuesday of the month and while the Hargreaves were in residence, spread out about her. Of Bingley, he saw nothing.
Still framed in the doorway, Darcy blurted, “Where is Bingley?”
“He said he was going into the village to have that apothecary examine his shoulder again, but he is in truth hiding from our wrath in the library,” Mrs. Hurst replied, casting Darcy a sour look.
Over the past two weeks, Darcy had gathered that Mrs. Hurst blamed him for permitting her brother to duel, and be wounded. As if he could have stopped Bingley from defending Miss Bennet’s honor.
“He seems to believe we cannot find him there.” Miss Bingley swiveled in her chair to face Darcy. “Could you not have prevented him from proposing until after the Hargreaves meet the Oakwoods? Or have stopped that ridiculous duel so the Hargreaves had not been required to delay their arrival due to Charles being shot?”
“Or kept our brother from being shot,” Mrs. Hurst muttered.
“Lord Franklin’s arrival will not necessarily answer any questions about the Bennets and Oakwoods,” Hurst said, laying down a card. “And no, Darcy could not prevent Charles being shot. He is a grown man, Louisa.”
“But we are far more likely to have answers after they arrive, and Charles should have waited,” Miss Bingley snapped, while Mrs. Hurst said, “Charles always bows to Mr. Darcy’s opinion.”
“And I still maintain that you should not have invited them here,” Hurst continued over his wife, addressing Miss Bingley .
Twisting back the other way in her chair, she leveled a frown on him. “If you do not care for how my brother’s household is managed, you can—”
“If you will excuse me,” Darcy murmured, backing from the room as the three continued to bicker. As he walked down the hall, he could tell from the cadence of their argument that they hadn’t even noticed his departure.
Netherfield’s library was a fine enough room, but the poorly stocked shelves made what offerings there were appear sad and unwanted. Still, Bingley had obviously found something to his liking. He lounged on a sofa, idly turning the pages of what appeared to be a travel journal, if the few illustrations that flipped by as Darcy approached were any indication. Darcy cleared his throat, as Bingley obviously had not heard the light tread of his shoes.
Raising his gaze to take in Darcy, Bingley sat up straighter, his smile welcoming. “What say you to the Mediterranean, Darcy? Wars don’t last forever, you know, and did you know that Jane speaks French? I could take her to see houses like the one her stepfather built.”
“I had begun to suspect that Miss Bennet speaks French, yes.” Darcy moved to stand before the couch across from Bingley. “May I?”
“Certainly. Not here to browse the shelves, then?” Bingley gestured to the meager collection.
Darcy had acquainted himself with the content of the room early in his stay, but that wasn’t why he didn’t peruse the shelves. “I realize you are in an understandably celebratory mood,” he began, unhappy to be the ruin of Bingley’s joy but knowing that, as his friend, he could do no less.
“I am indeed.” Bingley grinned. “Even Caroline’s nagging cannot diminish my delight at Miss Bennet’s acceptance of my offer.”
Darcy cleared his throat. “Yes. About that. I believe that, were you in possession of all the facts, you may not have tendered such an offer.”
Bingley’s brows drew together. “Do you mean, my sisters have learned that Miss Bennet is not related to a future earl? I tell you now, I do not care one jot who her relations are.”
“It is not her relations that trouble me. It is…” Darcy grimaced. “It is her.”
Bingley stared at him. “Her? Jane? She is perfection. What complaint could you possibly have against her?”
“She is…” Bingley watched him with such trust, and yet such surety. Darcy hated to shatter the happy future his friend was constructing in his mind. “I have reason to believe that she and Miss Elizabeth are the Boney Bandits. ”
Bingley’s shoulders dropped, a chuckle escaping him. “You had me truly worried for a moment.”
“I do not jest,” Darcy said firmly. It hadn’t occurred to him that Bingley would take his words as a joke.
“Oh, I know.” Bingley chuckled again. “That was a moment I wouldn’t want to repeat. You looked so dire, my heart nearly stopped.”
“This is not a matter to laugh about,” Darcy snapped, then Bingley’s words fell into place. “What do you mean, you know?”
“Jane told me days ago.” Bingley shook his head, his expression bemused. “I don’t mind telling you, I was shocked.”
“Days ago?” Darcy repeated, stunned. Bingley already knew? And he hadn’t shared that information?
Bingley nodded. “She said it wouldn’t be fair to permit me to offer for her without telling me.” He smiled a broad, foolish smile. “She’s remarkable, Darcy. What woman would be so considerate?”
“Considerate?” Darcy would not describe permitting Bingley to court her under such false pretense ‘considerate.’
“Yes. She was so worried about how I would feel. She is the kindest person I have ever come to know.” Bingley leaned forward. “Do you realize that she saved my life? She shot those pistols out of Wickham’s hand. Isn’t that extraordinary? What an amazing woman.”
“She is a highwayman,” Darcy exclaimed, unable to bear hearing Bingley laud Miss Bennet a moment longer.
“He got her, too,” Bingley continued, not seeming to note Darcy’s protest. Bingley’s face went grim. “He cut open her arm. If he wasn’t already in custody, or if he somehow isn’t sent to the colonies, I swear, Darcy, I will track him down. He will be made to pay for harming her.”
“He did not know he was fighting a woman,” Darcy reminded Bingley.
Bingley’s expression turned incredulous. “Are you defending the man who thought to shoot me? I know you grew up together, but Wickham is a cad of the worst order.”
“I am not defending him, but you seem to be ignoring the fact that Miss Bennet is a Boney Bandit. She robbed us.”
“But only to help those in need. They don’t keep any of the money, you know. It’s all given out, in secret, to the families hereabouts, and donated to the church. To counteract the taxes and fines Mr. Collins and his cronies doled out.”
Darcy sat back, flummoxed. “It does not trouble you that the woman you plan to marry has been parading about the countryside in trousers? Riding a horse astride? Shooting people’s hats?”
Bingley cast him an amused look. “Really, Darcy, I didn’t realize you were so antediluvian. Women ride astride, and shoot, and if it is the hat that’s troubling you, I re-extend my offer to purchase you a new one.”
“Other women may shoot and ride astride, but they do not hold up carriages.”
“Yes, well…” Bingley shrugged. “She has promised not to do that any longer. Not now that the whole Collins issue is settled and we’ve come to an agreement.” He looked at Darcy curiously. “You must have had a similar discussion with Miss Elizabeth.”
“I have not,” Darcy said stiffly, hiding a flash of hurt behind his affront.
“No?” Bingley frowned, then grimaced. “Well, ah, I’m certain she will get around to it.”
“I am not,” Darcy muttered, coming to his feet. It seemed he had been well and truly abused.
“Ah, yes, well…” Bingley floundered.
Darcy wanted nothing more than to be away from here, but he mastered the impulse to storm from the library. “We should depart for London. You need time away from Miss Bennet to clear your head. You are not thinking straight.”
“I am thinking perfectly straight,” Bingley replied with affront. “Besides, that Hargreaves fellow and his sister are coming. Can’t very well skip town with his lordship coming, can I?”
In his pique, Darcy had forgotten the near imminent arrival of the Hargreaves. “Hurst and your sisters can host them. Inviting them was Miss Bingley’s notion, after all.”
“And what about all our talk of not abandoning the Bennets and Oakwoods to Lord Franklin?” Bingley countered. “You agreed with Hurst that the man is unsavory, and that it is our fault he has found them. I didn’t protect Jane from Collins to leave her to Hargreaves.”
“Miss Bennet can quite obviously protect herself,” Darcy snapped.
Bingley drew in a long breath. “Look, I appreciate that you feel I am rushing into a union with someone who may be unsuitable, but I ask you, unsuitable to whom? In what way? Jane is the single most lovely, sweet, kind person in all the realm. Even you cannot deny that.”
“And her reputation, should what she has done get out? The wildness of her relations?”
“They mean no more to me than her lack of a dowry or her connections in trade. ”
“She lacks a dowry?” Darcy asked, surprised.
Bingley shrugged. “She has no idea what her stepfather left her, so I assume so. She has directed me to Mr. Phillips. He will draw up our marriage contract.”
“You can hardly count on him to be biased in your favor.”
“I am happy for the contract to favor Jane.”
Darcy sought about, then hit on, “She will raise your children. Your heir. Can you truly call her a fit mother?”
“A loving, kind woman who will teach my daughters to be strong?” Bingley cast back.
“You are acting the fool,” Darcy snapped.
Bingley came to his feet, his face red. “And you are acting—” He broke off, then continued more quietly. “You are acting as a friend, but you must believe me when I say that I have thought this through. I am even prepared for the ostracization that will come if she is ever found out.”
In desperation, Darcy asked, “Are your sisters?”
“They do not know, nor will ever know, anything about Jane’s past that she does not choose to tell them.” Bingley spoke very firmly, his eyes narrowing as he met Darcy’s. “Not from me, and not from you.”
Was Bingley threatening him? Darcy stared at him, stunned.
“Darcy, I love her. Truly. And she is more than worthy of my love.”
Darcy reached up to scrub icy fingers across his forehead. When he lowered his arm, he met Bingley’s gaze squarely. “And I will respect that.”
“Thank you.”
“But I am not as accepting as you. I cannot continue to court Miss Elizabeth, knowing what I now know.” It was one thing to elevate a possibly common country miss to mistress of Pemberley, but quite another to bring a highwayman…highwaywoman?...into his family line.
“Then I am sorry for you, for I have never seen you show even a tenth of the interest you show in Miss Elizabeth for any other woman.”
An ache throbbed where Darcy’s heart should beat. He had never felt even a tenth of the interest he felt for Miss Elizabeth for any other woman. Not a hundredth, even. “I need to think.”
“Right. Thinking is good. Helps sort things out. Good for the mind. I’ll excuse you from dinner, then?”
“I need to think away from here,” Darcy clarified. “I will depart for London this evening.”
Surprise flashed across Bingley’s face, but he nodded. “Do what you must. I will make your excuses to my sisters and Hurst. ”
“Thank you. If you will excuse me?”
Bingley nodded again, his expression sad. Almost…pitying.
Darcy ground his teeth together and pivoted away.
He strode from the library, his mind made up. He would not remain here and endure Miss Elizabeth’s lies. Her obvious willingness to bamboozle him. The way she thought herself to be so cunning. Everything from the bandits’ names, to those of the three eldest Bennet sisters’ horses, to the way Miss Bennet had hidden that she spoke French, which Elizabeth likely did as well. It was all a grand farce to her. An elaborate joke played out under the noses of an entire community.
He could only feel fortunate that he’d figured out Elizabeth’s game before he became too enthralled. Before he, heaven forbid, asked her to marry him and made a laughingstock of the Darcy name. Before he’d introduced her and her sisters to Georgiana.
He strode through the house, seeking his room and his valet, seething.
He found Patrick in his room still readying his evening wear, and imparted the news of their immediate departure. After a barely discernible moment of shock, Patrick schooled his features and set about ordering the journey. As he would only be in the way, Darcy retreated to the sitting room that adjoined his bedchamber and made a valiant effort to read the letters Patrick had left there.
A short time later, Patrick entered, gathering items which belonged to Darcy. He reached the far side of the room, his gaze falling on the rapier. “Sir, what should I do with this?”
Darcy scowled at the blade. The one Elizabeth had extricated from his hand with such speed and skill. In a friendly bout, it would be a joy to duel her.
His scowl deepened. “Leave it. Bingley will know what to do with it.”
Patrick came over to the desk. “May I pack your writing case, sir?”
Darcy took up his letters. Perhaps he would have better luck focusing on them in the carriage, as they drew away from Hertfordshire and all it contained. “Yes.” His gaze fell on the collapsed spyglass. “Leave this as well.” He plucked up the spyglass and placed it back in the drawer. He would mention it to Bingley before departing. “How much longer?”
“We will be ready within the hour, sir.”
“Very good.” Darcy moved to the couch to continue his pretense at reading while Patrick packed up the writing instruments on the desk.
An hour was not long, but it stretched before him like an eternity. Darcy longed to put Hertfordshire and the lies he’d been told here behind him. Distance was the only hope for his beleaguered, much abused heart.