Page 19 of Mr. Darcy and the Mysterious “Miss B”

Darcy

A few days had passed since the first scandal sheet had appeared, and Darcy’s world had shifted from uncomfortable to unbearable.

He stood in his study at Darcy House, holding the morning paper with trembling hands, reading words that would seal his fate.

He had hoped that he would be able to put all of this behind him, that the scandal would fate but it had not.

And now he held the next scandal sheet in his hand. With his name once more written there in black and white.

Wedding preparations for Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy and Miss B are said to be proceeding with all haste. Miss B has been seen looking rather frazzled and rumour has it a wedding gown has been commissioned at Madam LaBelle’s shop.

Wedding preparations. Gowns. Complete and utter fabrication presented as established fact.

“Damnation,” he muttered, crushing the paper in his fist.

The trap was closing with mathematical precision. And now, in addition to his uncle, his aunt had chimed in.

Her letter lay open on his desk, the words burned into his memory: You must marry this Miss B immediately to save the family from further scandal. Your uncle and I are in agreement—delay will only make matters worse.

The chorus of family pressure was deafening.

“William?” Georgiana appeared in the doorway; her face creased with concern. “You look quite dreadful.”

“I feel rather worse than I look, I assure you.”

“Is it the newspapers again?” She moved closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Caroline has been pacing the morning room like a caged tiger. She keeps muttering about reputation and duty and what people will expect.”

Darcy knew Caroline’s distress was largely theatre.

Behind her handkerchief and vapours, she was undoubtedly gleeful.

After years of throwing herself at his head with increasing desperation, scandal was finally forcing his hand.

She had achieved through manufactured crisis what she could never accomplish through charm or connection.

“Your powers of observation serve you well, sister.”

Before Georgiana could respond, Bingley appeared in the doorway, his face bearing the weight of genuine concern.

“Darcy, might I have a word? It is rather urgent.”

Georgiana departed with an apologetic glance, leaving the two men alone.

“You look like death warmed over,” Bingley observed, settling into a chair without invitation.

“I feel it.” Darcy moved to the window, staring out at the London streets where normal people went about their normal lives without scandal sheets destroying their futures.

“I have been thinking about this situation,” Bingley said. “About Caroline, about the scandal, about what options remain to you.”

“Charles—”

“Perhaps it would not be the worst outcome if you were to be wed,” Bingley continued with obvious reluctance. “Caroline cares for you genuinely. You need a wife eventually. And we would be brothers, which has always been my dearest wish.”

The words hit Darcy hard. “You cannot mean it.”

“I am sorry, Darcy, but what choice do you have? Caroline’s reputation is as compromised as yours now.

If you do not marry her, who will have her?

And your own standing in society—” Bingley leaned forward.

“At least we know she would make you a proper wife. She understands your position, your responsibilities.”

Bile rose in his throat. The thought of spending his life bound to Caroline Bingley, listening to her empty chatter, enduring her grasping ambition disguised as devotion—it was a fate worse than social ruin.

“My reputation be damned!” The words exploded from him with unexpected force. “I will not be manipulated into marriage, no matter the consequences.”

“At least consider it, for my sake,” Bingley said. “I do not want my sister ruined.”

The arrival of Morrison, his butler, saved him.

“Sir,” Morrison appeared in the doorway, his usual composure somewhat ruffled. “Mrs Gardiner and Miss Elizabeth Bennet request an audience. I informed them you were not receiving callers, but the lady insisted the matter was urgent.”

Darcy gulped. Elizabeth. Here. Now, when his world was crumbling around him.

“Show them to the morning room,” he managed. “I shall be along presently.”

After Morrison departed, Bingley raised an eyebrow. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet? I thought you said we would never see that family again.”

“So did I.” Darcy straightened his waistcoat with hands that trembled slightly. He had not told Bingley about his encounter with them and Georgiana—who had seen Lydia Bennet several more times, much to his chagrin—had not either.

“I saw the young Miss Bennets a few days ago but was told Miss Jane Bennet was not in residence, so saw no need to tell you. You had decided to sever your ties anyhow, had you not?”

Bingley gulped but nodded. “Although at times I wonder if I was hasty. I do miss her terribly. She is not here, you said?”

“I do not believe so. I was told only the younger four are. Although I had not seen Miss Elizabeth of yet. Georgiana heard Jane Bennet may join them in due course.”

Bingley’s eyes widened. “Jane, here?”

“Yes,” he said, and saw the thoughts racing behind his friend’s head. It had occurred to him that Bingley was miserable because of this separation but he had not allowed himself to dwell on it.

“I think of her day and night,” Bingley said then. Darcy opened his mouth but could utter no words as footsteps sounded and then, Elizabeth and her aunt were in the doorway.

“Miss Bennet, Mrs…” Bingley started.

“Gardiner,” Darcy said as Bingley bowed but then excused himself.

The morning room felt smaller with Elizabeth in it. She stood near the fireplace, her travelling dress simple but elegant, her eyes holding the same fire that had both fascinated and frustrated him at Netherfield. Mrs Gardiner sat nearby, her expression neutral.

“Miss Bennet.” He bowed with formal politeness. “Mrs Gardiner. This is rather unexpected.”

“Mr Darcy.” Elizabeth’s voice carried a chill that could freeze brandy. “I hope you will forgive the intrusion. I have come because of what I have seen in the papers.”

His chest tightened. Of course she had seen the scandal sheets. All of London had seen them by now.

“I see. And what precisely—”

“Oh, do not play the innocent with me, sir.” Elizabeth’s eyes flashed with indignation. “The entire ton is discussing your impending marriage to Miss Bingley. I came to discover if the reports are true.”

“They are not,” he said without hesitation. “I am not engaged to Miss Bingley, nor do I intend to become so.”

“Yet the papers suggest otherwise.”

“The papers,” Darcy said through gritted teeth, “are fabricating scandal for their own amusement. Someone placed that original notice without my knowledge or consent. I am attempting to discover who and why.”

Elizabeth studied his face with uncomfortable intensity.

“That may be true, Mr Darcy, but it no longer signifies. Unless you present a different Miss B—someone you are actually engaged to—the rumours will continue to grow. Miss Bingley’s version of events will gain credibility with each passing day. ”

The truth of her words struck him with uncomfortable force. “What are you suggesting?”

“I am suggesting,” Elizabeth said with deliberate calm, “that you need a Miss B who is not Miss Bingley. And I am suggesting that I might serve that purpose.”

Darcy stared at her, certain he had misheard. “I beg your pardon?”

“We met in Hertfordshire. A courtship between us would surprise no one.” Elizabeth’s voice carried a businesslike quality that somehow made the proposal more shocking.

“I could claim to be the mysterious Miss B. It would stop Miss Bingley’s schemes and give you time to discover who truly placed that notice. ”

“You wish to… marry me?” The words felt foreign on his tongue.

Elizabeth’s laugh held no warmth. “Good heavens, no. There is nothing I would like less than to become your wife.”

The blunt words stung more than they should have. “Then I confess myself confused about your proposal.”

“A false engagement, Mr Darcy. A temporary arrangement that serves both our purposes.” Elizabeth moved closer, her eyes bright with purpose. “You need a Miss B to escape Miss Bingley’s trap. I need someone with enormous wealth to resolve my family’s financial difficulties.”

“Financial difficulties?”

“Perhaps you recall,” Elizabeth’s voice took on a cutting edge, “that you told Mr Bingley my sister was engaged to Mr James Morton and was looking for a better match? Perhaps you might also recall I told you my sister was trapped in this circumstance due to financial obligations we could not meet. Well, unless you agree to this scheme of mine, Jane will have no choice but to marry James and I would like to spare her that fate.”

Darcy shifted in his seat, the leather crunching beneath her. Mrs Gardiner looked away when he glanced at her.

“Miss Bennet, I must beg your pardon—”

“Oh, spare me your apologies, sir. The damage is done.” Elizabeth waved a dismissive hand. “But perhaps we can find a way to benefit from each other’s misfortunes.”

“You propose a temporary engagement in exchange for…”

“In exchange for you meeting with Mr Morton and paying off Longbourn’s debts.

Three thousand pounds,” Elizabeth’s voice grew stronger with each word.

“The amount is considerable, but I suspect not beyond your means. Once our supposed courtship runs its course—say, three or four months—we can end the arrangement amicably. At the moment, Longbourn estate is in trouble, however, my family’s land is profitable.

I will ensure that you are reimbursed entirely for this sum, even if it takes years.

You will have escaped Miss Bingley’s snare and discovered who placed that notice.

I will have saved my family from ruin and my sister from a bad match. ” She paused, her eyes flashing again.

“And I suppose your sister still has her cap set on Mr Bingley?” he said, aware his tone was snider than intended.

“How dare you make her sound like a chancer!” Elizabeth’s voice rose to a pitch that made the crystal sing.

She stepped closer, her eyes blazing with fury.

“Jane has been in love with Mr Bingley since the moment she met him. She lights up when he enters a room. She treasures every word he speaks to her. She has cried herself to sleep every night since you destroyed her chance at happiness with your arrogant interference!”

“Miss Bennet—”

“You think because she does not throw herself at his head like your Caroline Bingley that her feelings are not real? You mistake dignity for indifference, reserve for calculation. Jane would rather die than marry for money alone. She agreed to James Morton only to save our family from ruin, not because she feels anything for him but duty.”

The passionate defence struck Darcy like a series of blows. He had never seen Elizabeth so fierce, so protective, so magnificently angry on her sister’s behalf. She had rebuked him at Netherfield, but this? This was wholly different.

“You saw them together at Netherfield,” Elizabeth continued relentlessly. “You saw how they looked at each other. How can you be so blind to what was before your very eyes?”

Darcy remembered those evenings—Jane’s quiet smiles, the way her eyes followed Bingley across the room, how she seemed to bloom in his presence whilst remaining perfectly proper. Had he truly mistaken reserve for disinterest?

“I… I thought her merely polite.”

“Polite?” Elizabeth’s laugh held no humour. “Mr Darcy, for a man of such vaunted intelligence, you understand remarkably little about the female heart.”

The criticism stung because it rang true. He had been so concerned with protecting Bingley from fortune hunters that he had failed to see what might have been genuine affection.

“If I accept your proposal, which I am not against,” he said, “and if I am wrong about your sister’s feelings, what assurance do I have that Charles would welcome her back? I convinced him she felt nothing for him.”

“Then you must unconvince him,” Elizabeth said sharply. “You created this mess with your interference. You can unmake it the same manner.”

Darcy stared at her, his mind racing through possibilities, consequences, dangers. The plan was risky beyond measure. If discovered, it would ruin them both. But the alternative—marriage to Caroline—was a living death.

And if he was wrong about Jane… if her feelings for Charles were genuine…

“Very well,” he said at last. “I accept your proposal, Miss Bennet. But I expect you to be prepared for the consequences if this scheme goes awry.”

Elizabeth’s smile was sharp as a blade. “Mr Darcy, I have been prepared for consequences my entire life. The question is whether you are prepared to convince Mr Bingley that you were wrong about Jane.”

“I will speak to him this evening.”

“Good.” Elizabeth moved towards the door, then paused. “And Mr Darcy? I expect you to convince him thoroughly. Jane has suffered enough for your mistakes.”

With that parting barb, she swept from the room, leaving Darcy staring after her and wondering what exactly he had agreed to.