Page 14 of Mr. Darcy and the Mysterious “Miss B”

Darcy

T he evening shadows lengthened across Netherfield’s drawing room as the last of the dinner dishes were cleared away.

Darcy examined Jane Bennet’s profile as she conversed with Georgiana, noting the gentle curve of her smile and the way her eyes lit up when Bingley entered her line of sight.

It was the first time she had joined them for dinner, limping and wincing but otherwise much improved.

She was to depart tomorrow—unless another reason came about to cause her to stay.

Was it all performance? The thought gnawed at him throughout the meal, every gracious word and modest laugh taking on new significance. She had played her part to perfection—the injured innocent, grateful for their hospitality whilst secretly calculating which suitor offered the better prospect.

He managed to make it through dinner and followed Bingley and Hurst into the parlour while the women congregated in the drawing room. However, after Mr Hurst had dropped into an armchair with a paper, he turned to his friend.

“Charles,” Darcy said, “might I have a word? In private?”

“Of course. Hurst, you will excuse us?”

They withdrew to Bingley’s study, where a fire crackled in the grate and brandy waited on a side table. Darcy closed the door with deliberate care whilst his friend poured two glasses.

“You seem rather grave this evening,” Bingley observed, handing him a snifter. “Has something occurred?”

Darcy accepted the brandy but did not drink. “Charles, I fear I must share some information that will distress you.”

“Information? About what?”

“About Miss Bennet.” Darcy watched his friend’s face closely. “I learned today that she is engaged to another man.”

“Engaged?” Bingley’s voice came out strangled. “That cannot be. She has given me every encouragement—”

“To her cousin, Mr James Morton. The betrothal has been decided, though not yet announced.” Darcy’s tone was flat, professional. “I had it from her own relatives this afternoon. They spoke of it as settled fact.”

Bingley sank into the nearest chair, his face pale. “But she… the way she speaks to me, the way she smiles…” he looked up with desperate hope. “Perhaps they are mistaken? Perhaps it is merely speculation?”

“I fear not. Mr and Mrs Phillips were quite clear on the matter.”

“This makes no sense.” Bingley buried his face in his hands. “Why would she encourage my attentions if she were promised to another? Jane is not cruel or calculating—”

“Is she not?” Darcy’s voice carried an edge. “Consider her circumstances, Charles. A family facing financial ruin, five daughters to settle, no male protection. Perhaps she has been weighing her options.”

“You cannot mean to suggest—” Bingley’s head snapped up. “Jane would never behave so mercenarily. I know her character.”

“Do you? You have known her for little more than a week.”

Before Bingley could respond, the study door opened and Caroline swept in, her silk skirts rustling with each step. Behind her came Mr and Mrs Hurst, both looked rather pleased.

“I do hope we are not interrupting,” Caroline said, though her eyes took in Bingley’s stricken expression with obvious interest. “But I could not help overhearing raised voices.”

“This is a private conversation,” Darcy said coldly.

“Oh, but if it concerns the Bennet family, then I fear I must speak.” Caroline settled herself in a chair without invitation. “You see, I have heard the most troubling rumours today.”

“What sort of rumours?” Bingley asked, though he seemed to dread the answer.

“About their financial situation, I am afraid. It appears the family is quite desperate. They have debts mounting, creditors pressing, and the estate in danger of being sold. It is far worse than we thought.” Caroline’s voice carried false sympathy.

“Of course, this puts their recent behaviour in rather a different light.”

“Then that aligns with what I learned,” Darcy said and recounted his tale.

“Dreadful,” Mr Hurst said, shaking his head as he stepped to the fireplace that lay empty and void of the usual crackle.

“Which would explain,” Caroline continued with delicate precision, “why Miss Bennet might encourage the attentions of a wealthy gentleman whilst engaged to another. After all, the Bingley fortune far exceeds whatever this Morton fellow might offer.”

“That is enough,” Bingley said, his voice sharp. “I will not hear Miss Bennet’s character maligned based on gossip.”

“Charles, dear brother, you must see reason,” Caroline pressed.

“A desperate family might well use their prettiest daughter to ensnare a wealthy man. It is hardly uncommon. And the news did not come from strangers. They came from her own relations. In fact, her young sister Lydia told me herself about their financial troubles.”

“Miss Bennet is not like that,” Bingley insisted, though his conviction seemed to waver.

Mr Hurst leaned forward. “But consider this, has she not been remarkably available to your company? Conveniently injured just when you might have lost interest? And her sister Elizabeth encouraging the attachment at every turn?”

Darcy watched his friend’s face crumble as doubt took hold. “Charles, I know this is painful, but you must consider the evidence objectively.”

“The evidence?” Bingley laughed bitterly. “You mean the fact that she has been kind to me? That she enjoys my conversation? These are crimes now?”

“She has been promised to another man whilst leading you to believe she welcomed your courtship,” Darcy said. “That suggests a calculating nature beneath the gentle exterior.”

Bingley was quiet for a long moment, staring into the fire. When he spoke again, his voice was hollow. “I have been such a fool.”

“Not a fool,” Caroline said. “Merely trusting. Your generous nature makes you vulnerable to those who would take advantage.”

“But why?” Bingley looked up with anguished eyes. “If her family is truly desperate, why not explain their circumstances? I would have helped—”

“Because help and marriage are different things,” Darcy replied. “A husband’s fortune becomes her family’s security. A benefactor’s charity might be withdrawn at any time.”

The silence that followed was broken only by the crackling of logs in the grate. Darcy felt a mixture of satisfaction and regret as he watched his friend absorb the harsh reality of his situation.

“What am I to do?” Bingley asked.

“The wisest course would be to withdraw,” Darcy said. “Return to London, seek another property. Distance yourself from this… complication.”

“But what of Miss Bennet? And her sister? They are guests in my house.”

Caroline smiled with false sweetness. “Oh, I believe Mr Morrison pronounced Miss Bennet well enough to travel. They can return to Longbourn tomorrow. I thought that was the plan anyhow.”

“And then?”

“Then you move forward with your life,” Darcy said. “You are a good man, Charles, with much to offer the right woman. Do not waste yourself on someone who sees you merely as a solution to her family’s financial troubles.”

Bingley nodded, like a man accepting his execution. “You are right, of course. I have been living in a fool’s paradise.”

“Shall I speak with the young ladies?” Caroline offered. “Explain that pressing business requires your immediate return to London?”

“No.” Bingley stood with visible effort. “I will speak with Miss Bennet myself. She deserves that much courtesy, whatever her motivations might have been.”

After the others departed, Darcy remained in the study, nursing his brandy and contemplating the evening’s work. He had done what friendship demanded—protected Bingley from a greedy attachment that could only have ended in heartbreak.

So why did he feel no satisfaction in his victory?

***

Twenty minutes passed before Bingley emerged from the drawing room, his face haggard. He paused outside the study door, seeming to gather himself before entering.

“It is done,” he said without preamble.

“How did she take the news?”

“About as you might expect.” Bingley slumped into his chair. “She was shocked that you knew, but she did not deny the arrangement. She said…” he swallowed hard. “She said she had never wanted to marry Morton, that the engagement was forced upon her by circumstances beyond her control.”

“Of course she did.”

“She seemed genuinely distressed, Darcy. She claimed she had been hoping to find a way out of the arrangement, that she had never encouraged Morton’s suit willingly.

” Bingley’s voice cracked. “She said she could not bear the thought of marrying a man she did not love, but neither could she watch her family lose their home.”

Darcy felt an unexpected stab of something that might have been guilt. “Such protestations come easily when one is caught.”

“Do they? She asked me directly if I believed her incapable of genuine feeling, if I thought her so mercenary as to toy with my affections while promised to another.” Bingley was quiet for a moment. “I… I told her I no longer knew what to believe.”

“You did what was necessary.”

“Did I? She looked at me as though I had struck her when I said I could not trust someone who had concealed such a significant arrangement.” Bingley’s voice grew thick.

“She said she had not wanted to burden me with her family’s troubles, that she had hoped…

she had hoped things might resolve themselves differently. ”

“Hope built on deception is no foundation for marriage.”

“Perhaps not, but whatever her reasons for silence, I do not think I shall soon forget the pain in her eyes when she realised I doubted her heart.”

Before Darcy could respond, rapid footsteps echoed in the corridor. Elizabeth Bennet appeared in the doorway, her eyes blazing with fury.

“Mr Darcy,” she said, her voice carrying a dangerous edge. “I believe we need to have a conversation.”

Behind her, Jane appeared, supported by Georgiana and looking as though she might collapse at any moment. Her face was streaked with tears, and her hands shook as she gripped Georgiana’s arm.

“Elizabeth, please,” Jane whispered. “Let us go home.”

“No.” Elizabeth stepped into the room, her gaze fixed on Darcy with sharp intensity. “Not until certain things are made clear.”

Darcy rose, recognising the storm that was about to break over his head. Whatever Elizabeth Bennet intended to say, he suspected the evening was far from over.

And despite everything—despite his conviction that she was as calculating as her sister, despite his determination to protect his friend from fortune hunters—he looked forward to the confrontation.

For better or worse, Elizabeth Bennet was about to show him exactly who she truly was.