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“ B ingley, my friend, if you do not mind, I shall ride on ahead of the party today.”

The expression with which Bingley regarded him suggested he knew something of Darcy’s reason for wishing to return to Pemberley before them. Then Bingley spoke and removed all doubt.

“Might I suppose this sudden wish to travel by horse instead of carriage has something to do with the company?”

It was to Darcy’s credit that he did not so much as bat an eyelash at his friend’s insight. “If I return to Pemberley early, I can deal with any outstanding matters of the estate, leaving me free to concentrate on our visit.”

Bingley’s smile was entirely too knowing. “Caroline will appreciate your thoughtful consideration for her feelings. Unless I miss my guess, it will only increase her certainty that you mean to propose to her during this visit.”

Though he had not been certain of Miss Bingley’s expectations, Darcy had suspected it and was not at all pleased. Again, Bingley proved his perception by chuckling and shaking his head.

“You do not need to say anything, Darcy, for I understand your feelings. Indeed, they are no less than clear, since you are already eager to leave my sister’s company the very morning after we came together.”

It was the truth, and Darcy had no wish to deny it.

For the past month, he and Georgiana had stayed at his uncle’s estate in the south of Derbyshire while the Bingleys had visited friends in Leicester.

The previous evening, they met in Derby by previous arrangement, intending to proceed to Pemberley that morning, an easy journey that would consume only half a day.

As such, they had agreed to start later than Darcy’s custom that morning, which allowed him to conceive of the notion of riding ahead—if he departed now, he would arrive perhaps two hours before the rest of the party.

“I apologize, Bingley, for I mean no slight against your sister,” said Darcy at length. “This summer’s invitation I offered knowing her ambitions, but I had not expected her to be so open regarding her expectations.”

Bingley’s snort of annoyance spoke to his understanding of his sister.

“Until we met you yesterday, I will own that I had no notion of it myself. Caroline will not speak of it, but I suspect something happened during the season to render her more desperate than confident. Had I known how she would behave, I would have declined your invitation.”

“Do not concern yourself, Bingley, for I can handle your sister. Girding myself for battle has some appeal, but I was not dissembling about my intention to deal with any outstanding matters before your arrival.”

“Then go to it, my friend. We will join you at Pemberley later.

Though Darcy preferred to make a clean break, Miss Bingley caught wind of his intention to depart early.

To his distinct lack of surprise, she considered it a compliment to her as Bingley had predicted—the foreknowledge of her character also revealed the content of her comments on the subject to him; or they would have, if he had given it any thought beyond escaping at the earliest opportunity.

“Have no fear, Mr. Darcy,” said she, her tone intended to be seductive, “for we shall take excellent care of your sister. I shall be her companion, such that she will have no thought of the separation she must endure.”

“It will only be for a few hours, Miss Bingley,” was Georgiana’s wry response. “I can endure it with little regret.”

“Then I shall see you all this afternoon,” said Darcy, though amused by his sister’s comment. “For the nonce, I shall excuse myself.”

Riding allowed the sojourner excessive amounts of time to think, and as Darcy knew the roads well, his attention wandered as he rode.

The past year had been eventful to say the least, from Georgiana’s near miss with Wickham last summer, to the weeks spent in Hertfordshire, the following season, his visit to Kent, and now the visit to Pemberley.

Had so much of it not confused him, Darcy might have been willing to allow such thoughts to rest. Or perhaps confusion was not the correct term—uncertainty might be better.

Foremost among Darcy’s thoughts that morning was the situation of his friend.

While Bingley was the same jovial fellow he had always been, Darcy thought he saw a hint of alteration in his friend’s character, and he knew the date the change had happened.

It all stemmed from their stay in Hertfordshire and, more particularly, their abrupt departure.

While Bingley showed the same face to the world he always had, Darcy could not shake the notion that he was not so happy as he had been before.

Miss Bingley would not wish to acknowledge it, but Darcy knew it was because he had left Miss Bennet in Hertfordshire against his inclination.

At the time, Darcy had spoken to support Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst’s insistence that Miss Bennet was not a suitable match for their brother.

She did not possess the connections or fortune they thought necessary—their opinion was not singular, of course, for most of society would agree with them—but to suggest she was not suitable was laughable.

Regardless of what any of them thought of the man in question, Mr. Bennet was a gentleman, making Miss Bennet the daughter of a gentleman.

By that calculation, Bingley, who aspired to become a gentleman in his own right, could marry a woman such as Miss Bennet and receive a measure of legitimacy by association.

Had that been the only consideration, Darcy would not have spoken on the subject.

To Darcy’s way of thinking, if Miss Bennet possessed only her person to bring to a marriage, she needed to at least harbor affection for Bingley, and as he had seen no proof of her regard, he had advised Bingley accordingly.

It was that advice more than anything else that had led Bingley to abandon his intended return to his leased estate.

Now, thoughts of whether he had been correct to advise his friend plagued Darcy.

That Bingley still maintained an affection for her was no proof of Miss Bennet’s feelings, but the longer he considered it, the more he wondered if his observations had been accurate.

Nothing he recalled pointed to an error in judgment, but Darcy began to question his observations based on one evening in company all the same.

To Darcy’s good fortune, he did not dwell long on such reflections, for what was done was done and could not be changed.

The simple reason for his cursory attention to the subject was that every time he considered Miss Bennet, the thought of her brought her younger sister to mind.

In truth, he had expected to meet her in Kent that spring; it was more than fortunate that he had not.

“I AM ASTONISHED BY your civility, Darcy. That the new residents of the parsonage are of such consequence as to provoke you to visit the day of our arrival was beyond my expectations.”

The road leading to Hunsford was as dusty as ever, and Darcy had no true desire to go there, fearing what he might find. Fitzwilliam, who walked at his side, had voiced no objection to visiting the parsonage, but his observation about Darcy was not unwarranted.

“They are acquaintances,” said Darcy, keeping to an ingenuous response. “It would be churlish of me if I did not pay my respects to them.”

Fitzwilliam eyed him as they walked. “Then they must be something more than mere acquaintances. If they were not, you would not hurry to visit them.”

“Or perhaps I wish to do it at once, so I do not need to bother with it later.”

“Then lead on, Cousin. I am interested in meeting these people of whom you have remained so closemouthed.”

Fitzwilliam, though Darcy would never concede it to his cousin, was not incorrect, yet he did not understand the true reason for Darcy’s intention to visit now.

The truth was that Darcy could not bear to remain ignorant of the composition of the party there, and he feared what he might find.

Try as he might, he had not induced Lady Catherine to reveal the identity of the parson’s wife, for she had referred to the woman as “Mrs. Collins” and her sister as “Mrs. Collins’s sister. ”

Though he was a man Darcy would like to forget, Mr. Collins was not one who did not make an impression.

The man was no less than servile and stupid, his conversation filled with blandishment aimed at Darcy’s aunt, his social skills rudimentary at best, and everything about him was uninteresting.

Though Darcy had interacted with him for only a moment, he had noted the parson’s actions.

Mr. Collins had fixed his attention on Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and given several comments from her mother, Darcy had known that a proposal was in the offing.

The notion of Miss Elizabeth, she of fine eyes and lively personality would accept a buffoon such as Mr. Collins beggared the imagination, but there it was.

A visit to the parsonage was the only way to assuage Darcy’s curiosity if he did not wish to wait in suspense for several days, so Darcy had announced his intention and departed before Lady Catherine could protest. That Lady Catherine looked at him askance, and Fitzwilliam questioned his reasons, was no consideration at all.

Darcy thought only of discovering the truth of the matter; the identity of Mr. Collins’s wife was a subject of great interest to him.