Page 19 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)

“The incoming coach will not arrive until late this evening at ten o’clock,” Jane replied. “It departs at seven in the morning. And the mail coach has already come and gone today.”

Mr. Wickham looked dismayed. “I came in the colonel’s private coach alongside Denny,” he said. “I suppose I ought to go and arrange a ticket at once.” He bowed and walked away. Denny called after him, offering a parting wave to the ladies.

“What do you suppose that was about?” Lydia pouted. “I want him to stay! He is the handsomest man I have ever seen.”

“’Tis not as though he would like you,” Kitty grumbled. “You are a child!”

The girls bickered as the party made their way to the haberdashery to complete their errands. Mr. Bingley had not followed Mr. Darcy but instead dismounted and joined them. He could offer no explanation for his friend. Elizabeth meant to ask Mr. Darcy as soon as she could.

Darcy

He kicked his mount into a gallop, racing towards Netherfield Park as swiftly and safely as he could.

He is here. How on earth… But it did not matter. He would write to his cousin and summon him to Hertfordshire at once. There was a chance Richard could reach Meryton before Wickham escaped. Did the village have a post coach or mail coach? He did not know.

He reined in his horse before the stables and dismounted.

A groom came forward, and Darcy handed off the reins with a nod of thanks then hurried inside.

He gave little thought to his appearance—he must surely look wild—and took the stairs two at a time until he reached his chamber.

In two strides, he crossed to his writing box.

Opening it, he withdrew a fresh sheet of paper and uncapped his ink bottle. He dipped a quill only to find it needed mending. With a muttered curse, he tossed it aside and seized another. This one served, and he began to write.

Richard,

Wickham is here. I saw him in Meryton. Make haste, for I do not believe he will remain now that he has seen me. Our months of searching may be at an end.

Darcy

With shaking hands, he sanded and sealed the letter. He entrusted it to one of his grooms, who set off immediately on a fast horse. Darcy stood at the window, watching until the rider vanished from view. With the help of Providence, Wickham would soon no longer be a threat.

He did not leave the house again that day, instead brooding over the situation. The latest letter from Georgiana had held more enthusiasm than the last—a promising sign of progress. His sister would be well and whole again, and having Wickham contained could only hasten that outcome.

Darcy recalled Miss Elizabeth’s confusion as he had ridden away.

He owed her no explanation, yet he felt compelled to give one all the same.

She was already dear to him, and he wished to confide in her.

Of all people, he felt she would understand the plague Wickham had been to the Darcys. She would empathize.

Only later did he recall that there had been another unknown gentleman among the Bennet sisters. Who is he? he wondered. When Bingley returned that evening, he had his answer.

“The man is a cousin,” Bingley explained. “Mr. William Collins. While you were distracted, he rambled on at length about his patroness…who is…none other than Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

Darcy sat straight up. “That man is my aunt’s parson? Unbelievable.”

Bingley waggled his brows and laughed. “I suspected the name would mean something to you. I am certain you will find him entertaining. He is rather loquacious—much like Mrs. Bennet, but even worse. I could hardly get a word in for every five he uttered. I dare say your aunt’s ears are burning—he hardly composed a sentence without invoking her name. ”

“Then I shall have something to look forward to.” Darcy raised his glass and took a drink.

The ladies had retired, leaving the gentlemen alone in the billiards room. Hurst had played two games before retreating to a chair next to the decanter. Bingley and Darcy continued their game, the former taking his turn while the latter savored his brandy.

“Your turn, old chap.” Darcy rose and took his place. Bingley stood off to the side as he aimed.

“Miss Elizabeth asked after you.”

Bingley’s words, unexpected though they were, sent a thrill through Darcy, and he missed the shot.

Straightening, he turned to face his friend. “You did that on purpose.”

“I cannot win against you any other way.” Bingley’s grin widened. “She seemed rather put out that you rode off so abruptly.” He waited, clearly expectant. When Darcy remained silent, Bingley slapped his thigh. “Come now, Darcy! She likes you—do not throw this away!”

“You mean I must not permit my fears to rule my actions?” Darcy glanced at the corner where Hurst now snored lightly, the decanter empty.

“I am merely being cautious, Bingley. We—you and I—wish to marry for more than connection or wealth. Those are society’s expectations.

It has ever been easy for you to gain a lady’s attention; her regard soon follows.

That is not the case for me. Ladies are drawn to my place in society, not my person. Is it wrong that I proceed with care?”

Bingley was one of the few of Darcy’s friends who knew the extent of his past suffering, but even he could not truly understand. There were parts Darcy did not share with anyone. He hoped one day he might…with the right lady.

“I promise, I shall not close myself off to the possibility,” he said at last. “Pray, let me go about it in my own way.”

Bingley nodded, though his expression remained skeptical. “You are always careful. But be warned: love robs even the wisest of their judgment. It clouds the mind.”

Darcy inclined his head in acknowledgment. They retired soon after. He would rise early and seek out Elizabeth on Oakham Mount.