Page 23

P emberley was a peaceful, ordered sort of place, and one in which Darcy had always found himself more comfortable than anywhere else.

The estate was no less than a haven in a tumultuous world of trial and sorrow; if Darcy had his way, he might never leave it.

Such sentiments were foolish, of course, for Darcy understood life often took one to situations and locations unpalatable, yet he always counted on Pemberley to be the rock in his life, the one place he could relax and allow himself to be just Fitzwilliam Darcy, with no one to judge or place unreasonable explanations on him.

This was one reason he now regretted inviting Bingley and his family.

Had it been Bingley alone, Darcy would not have concerned himself and may even have considered it a benefit, given Bingley’s behavior these past months.

Darcy had worried for his friend, for Bingley, though to a casual observer presented the same cheery demeanor, had appeared stuck in indecision, as if wishing to tread a path when he knew everyone around him would disapprove.

Now, though it was a difficult cross to bear, Darcy hoped he would find a resolution, for there was no more opportunity to recommend himself to Mrs. Harrington.

Meeting Miss Bennet here, Darcy now understood, would have resolved Bingley’s dilemma one way or another.

Had she remained unmarried, Darcy doubted anyone could have held Bingley back from returning to Hertfordshire to pursue her, yet now that he knew her status, he could, in time, overcome his disappointment and, perhaps of greater importance, learn from the event and become a better man.

That he had often let his sisters do as they wished and had rarely opposed them was nothing less than the truth, whether a compliment or a shade in his character.

Darcy had often counseled him to exercise more firmness in dealing with them, for Miss Bingley attracted the wrong sort of attention with her insistence on pursuing Darcy.

She was not poorly behaved by any stretch, but many in society thought she strove for a level not commensurate with her standing, which was decidedly common.

Perhaps this experience would help Bingley assert his independence and bring Miss Bingley under better regulation.

While Darcy was correct on the one hand, he discovered as soon as he returned to Pemberley that the second was far easier said than done.

Though Darcy could trust Pemberley to be a healing balm on his soul, that morning matters were afoot of which Darcy had no notion in advance, and though the disharmony was not welcome, he could only suppose it was for the best.

Darcy reached his room without being drawn into the conflagration and returned below stairs to join the rest of the party after refreshing himself. Before he could do so, however, he came across Bingley pacing in the entrance, appearing agitated in a manner unlike his friend.

“I wish you had informed me you were to go riding,” said Bingley the moment he espied Darcy descending the stairs. His friend grimaced and added: “Then again, it is for the best that you did not, I suppose, given what ensued while you were out.”

“I apologize, Bingley,” said Darcy, “but my errand this morning did not require a partner. You would have been in the way.”

Bingley barked a laugh containing no humor. “Yes, I can well imagine it. Miss Bennet is well, I trust?”

“She is,” said Darcy, eyeing his friend and wondering what he should say. Bingley spoke first, necessitating no response from Darcy.

“If I might ask, can we go to your study for a time? Should we remain here, I am certain Caroline will find us, and I have no wish to be in her company at present.”

Though surprised Bingley would state his displeasure so openly, Darcy consented at once and led his friend away; when they entered the study, Bingley showed his restless energy by pacing the room instead of sitting in an armchair by the fireplace.

“Does your disquiet have anything to do with what Miss Bennet told you last night?”

Bingley’s response was half snort and half growl, but all contempt. “It is, but it is much more than that.” Bingley paused his pacing and peered at Darcy. “How much of the matter do you know?”

“To own the truth, I am uncertain. Part of my reason for seeking her out this morning was to learn something about her sister’s new situation—she told me nothing of it before we visited Lambton, which is why I did not speak of it.”

“That much I had deduced myself.”

Darcy regarded his friend for some moments, wondering what to make of this man before him. Bingley continued to stalk around the room, muttering to himself, gesticulating with his hands as he did so, a man as perturbed as any Darcy had ever seen.

“I suppose Miss Bennet did not speak of the true betrayal.”

The comment, coming without warning as it did, stopped Darcy’s tongue.

Uncertain what he meant, Darcy reviewed his conversation with Miss Bennet, but while many things could be deemed a betrayal, he had no notion of Bingley’s meaning.

He had concentrated on his interest in Mrs. Harrington’s position and her reasons, thinking nothing about what might have happened after the Bingleys left.

Miss Bingley had always professed deep friendship for Mrs. Harrington—Darcy realized she must have corresponded with Miss Bennet.

Given the woman’s character, she might have done something she should not.

“Of course, she said nothing,” said Bingley before Darcy spoke. “She is a woman of charity, a quality my sister does not possess.”

“I must suppose you speak of something particular,” offered Darcy.

That comment chased Bingley to his chair at last, though he threw himself into the inoffensive piece of furniture, caring nothing for his posture.

“Yes, she did, and as it concerns you, I cannot suppose you will be any happier with my sister than I am at present.”

Darcy frowned. “What do you mean?”

A disgusted shake of his head was Bingley’s response.

“When she left Netherfield against my wishes, Caroline dispatched a letter to Miss Bennet—Mrs. Harrington, I suppose—announcing our departure to town. I can only guess what that letter contained, though I must suppose that it was, at least in part, Caroline’s insincere expressions of friendship written in language to insinuate that I had no desire to be in Miss Bennet’s company again.

“When Miss Bennet first told me of her sister’s marriage, I was not yet master of myself and did not ask; I approached her last night and got the truth.

Miss Bennet told me that her sister sent two letters to Caroline, the second because she had not received an answer to the first. Only then did Caroline respond. And do you know what she did?”

“Something devious enough to put you in this state, I must suppose,” said Darcy.

“Trust me, my friend, you will be disgusted with my sister yourself when I tell you all. In her second letter, my sister did everything she could to sever the acquaintance. Not only did she inform Miss... Mrs. Harrington that I was enjoying my time in town and had no thought to spare for her. The crowning glory was when she stated I harbored a tender regard for Miss Darcy and insinuated an engagement was only a matter of time.”

As the red haze of fury descended over Darcy’s vision, Bingley’s scrutiny did not let up, and after a moment, he gave a grim nod. “When Miss Bennet told me that, I was of a mind to throttle my sister; I cannot but suppose you are experiencing similar feelings at present.”

Though his friend was not incorrect, Darcy pushed his anger away, not wishing to insult Bingley. “I would not oppose a connection if you both wished for it.”

“I know, and I appreciate your liberality, my friend,” replied Bingley with a curt nod.

“At present, however, your sister is but sixteen. To suggest such a thing is not only false but is no good portrayal of my character—a man who pays such a young girl attention cannot have any laudable intentions.”

Darcy was forced to agree with his friend, though he had not considered it in that way, given his anger of the moment. Bingley, however, was not paying attention, for his affront returned to his account.

“Caroline spoke in such a way to discourage Miss Bennet, of course, for she did not want to leave any hope of my return. It was a despicable, selfish act for her benefit alone, for she did not care a jot for my wishes on the subject.”

“That was not well done to be certain,” said Darcy, reflecting on what Bingley had told him. “Did your sister confess to these things?”

A disdainful snort comprised Bingley’s response. “My sister, acknowledge culpability? You must know her better than to suggest she would ever own to error, Darcy.”

Darcy sighed and shook his head. “No, I do not suppose she would. Then you have this from Miss Bennet?”

“I do,” said Bingley. “Though Caroline would not confess, Louisa is not so much of a force of nature as Caroline. Last night, after Caroline retired, Hurst and I confronted Louisa, and she acknowledged some of it, though she was not involved. Caroline acted on her own and told Louisa some of what she did later; Louisa did not disagree, but she did not presume to lie to have her way as Caroline did.”

That Miss Bingley misbehaved was not a shock to Darcy, for the notion she would go to great lengths to push events in a direction she preferred had occurred to him before.

It was more surprising that Hurst would rouse himself enough to confront his wife and demand a response—Darcy had never known the man to take any more than a passing interest in anything but his amusements.

“The worst part of this,” said Bingley, his anger spent, leaving behind a morose sort of fatalistic acceptance, “is that Caroline cost me my chance at happiness.”