Page 32

Darcy

T he morning light crept reluctantly through the heavy draperies at Rosings Park as Fitzwilliam Darcy dressed with particular care, his thoughts preoccupied with the conversation he must have with Elizabeth.

Two days had passed since their arrival at his aunt’s estate, days filled with strained politeness that concealed deeper wounds.

He paused at his reflection in the looking glass, straightening his cravat with unnecessary precision. The man who gazed back at him appeared composed, proper—yet beneath this veneer of gentlemanly decorum lay a turmoil of emotions he scarcely knew how to navigate.

When he entered the breakfast parlour, he found Elizabeth already present, a letter spread before her on the table.

“Troubling news?” he enquired, finally stepping into the room.

Elizabeth refolded the pages with hands that trembled slightly.

“From Longbourn. Jane writes that the Bingleys have quit Netherfield without ceremony, returning to London the very day after our departure. There is no indication they intend to return to Hertfordshire.” Her eyes, when she raised them to his, held accusation and bewilderment.

“Mr Bingley’s attentions to my sister were marked, his regard obvious to all.

How could he depart so suddenly, without even a proper farewell? ”

Discomfort coursed through Darcy, settling like a weight in his stomach.

He had thought Bingley would speak to Jane Bennet first, telling her he would be away for some time so she would not be left wondering.

Caroline most likely had done what Darcy thought she would: Ensured a permanent break.

This had been his intention, of course, at least in the moment.

Though since then, he’d regretted his actions.

“He mentioned a matter of business in Town requiring his immediate attention.”

“So, Miss Bingley indicated in her note to Jane.” Elizabeth studied his countenance with an intensity that made him turn towards the sideboard.

“London affairs often demand prompt attention,” Darcy replied, striving for a measured tone.

“Indeed.” Elizabeth placed the letter in her pocket, though her expression remained troubled.

Their tête-à-tête was interrupted by Lady Catherine’s arrival, her imposing figure commanding immediate attention as she swept into the room.

“I trust you have both slept adequately,” she pronounced, taking her seat at the head of the table.

“Though I must say, Mrs Darcy, your chambers face east. I have always maintained that exposure to the morning sun is detrimental to a lady’s complexion.

When I redecorate the east wing next spring, I shall have the windows reduced in size. ”

Elizabeth inclined her head politely. “Your consideration is most kind, Lady Catherine, though I confess I find the morning light rather invigorating.”

Lady Catherine’s nostrils flared at this hint of contradiction, but before she could respond, Lord Matlock entered, forestalling further discussion of window dimensions.

The remainder of breakfast passed in forced conversation dominated by Lady Catherine’s opinions on topics ranging from the proper method of trimming box hedges to the declining standards of musical instruction among young ladies of quality.

Darcy observed Elizabeth throughout, noting the slight tension around her mouth, the careful courtesy with which she responded to his aunt’s pronouncements. Not once did her eyes meet his across the table.

Following breakfast, Lady Catherine proposed a tour of the rose garden for Elizabeth, a suggestion delivered with the force of a command.

Darcy watched from the library window as they walked the gravel paths, his aunt gesturing imperiously, Elizabeth maintaining a decorous distance beside her.

Lord Matlock, meanwhile, had kept Darcy occupied with endless tasks and conversation.

It was not until afternoon that circumstances provided Darcy a reprieve from family’s supervision.

Colonel Fitzwilliam sought him out as he retired to the library, proposing a walk through the sycamore alley that stretched along the eastern boundary of the park.

The two settled on a bench near the sculpture garden.

“You appear troubled, Darcy,” his cousin remarked. “Is all well between you and Elizabeth?”

Darcy clasped his hands behind his back, considering how much to reveal. “There has been some tension since our arrival.”

“Lady Catherine and my father’s reception can hardly have helped matters,” Richard observed. “I believe my aunt has now enumerated for Elizabeth no fewer than seventeen deficiencies she perceives in her deportment, education, and connections.”

“It is not merely my aunt’s hostility that concerns me,” Darcy admitted. “Elizabeth received a letter from her sister this morning. Bingley has abruptly quit Netherfield.”

“And this distresses Mrs Darcy?”

“Her sister Jane had formed an attachment to Bingley. His sudden departure has caused her pain.”

“I see.” Richard’s tone suggested deeper understanding. “And might Bingley’s decision have been influenced by advice from a certain quarter?”

Darcy stopped walking, fixing his cousin with a sharp look. “What makes you ask that?”

“I know you, Darcy. Your concern for Bingley’s welfare often leads to intervention.”

A brief internal struggle ensued, pride warring with honesty. Finally, Darcy nodded. “I did advise him to distance himself from Miss Bennet.”

“May I ask your reasoning?”

Darcy resumed walking; his pace measured.

“At Netherfield, I overheard a conversation between Elizabeth and her mother. Mrs Bennet was pressing Elizabeth to importune me for financial assistance, specifically to break the entailment on Longbourn. She spoke openly of her designs upon my fortune, as well as her hopes for Jane’s attachment to Bingley. ”

Richard’s eyebrows rose. “I imagine such acquisitive considerations would naturally concern you.”

“Indeed. Combined with my lingering resentment over Elizabeth’s concealment regarding Wickham, I found myself questioning the Bennet family’s motives.

” Darcy passed a hand across his brow. “I suggested to Bingley that he test Miss Bennet’s affections by creating distance between them.

If her regard was genuine, I argued, it would endure separation. ”

“And now you question this judgement?”

“I have reflected much upon it. Miss Bennet’s demeanour is reserved, her manner gentle. It is possible I mistook modesty for indifference.” Darcy’s voice lowered. “And Elizabeth speaks of her sister with such conviction… I begin to think my test was unnecessary and perhaps unjust.”

“Then you must rectify it,” Richard said promptly. “Write to Bingley. A word from you would send him racing back to Hertfordshire.”

“And what of Elizabeth?” Darcy’s voice held tension. “She would be justified in her anger if she learned of my interference.”

“Better she should hear it from you than discover it by other means. Concealment has already caused sufficient damage, has it not?”

Darcy nodded gravely. “I shall speak with her after dinner and write to Bingley first thing tomorrow.”

They returned to the house as the afternoon light waned, Darcy preoccupied with composing both the explanation he would offer Elizabeth and the letter he would send to Bingley.

So distracted was he that he barely registered the subtle shift in atmosphere as they entered the drawing room, where Lady Catherine sat with a letter in her hand and a gleam of malicious satisfaction in her eye.

The dinner hour arrived with the usual formality. Elizabeth, seated opposite Darcy, appeared composed, though her eyes betrayed a wariness. For his part, Darcy was peculiarly alert to the undercurrents of tension in the room.

It was during the removal of the soup course that Lady Catherine launched her first salvo.

“I have received an interesting communication from London,” she announced, fixing Elizabeth with a penetrating stare. “From Margaret Blackfriars.”

Darcy felt a cold weight settle in his stomach as he observed Elizabeth’s fingers tighten around her napkin. “Indeed, aunt?”

“We were presented together at court in our youth. Her most recent missive contained startling information regarding Mrs Darcy’s former connections.”

Elizabeth met Lady Catherine’s gaze steadily. “How singular that Mrs Blackfriars should find my insignificant self, worthy of mention.”

“Singular, certainly. She informs me that you were engaged to her nephew, Jonathan Blackfriars, and withdrew from the very church on your wedding day.”

A hush fell over the table. Even the footmen paused in their duties, though a sharp glance from Darcy sent them retreating.

“My engagement to Mr Blackfriars was arranged without my consent,” Elizabeth replied, her voice steady. “I discovered on the morning of the wedding that we were fundamentally unsuited.”

“Withdrew! A charitable term for abandonment.” Lady Catherine’s lips curved in a thin smile.

Before Elizabeth could respond, Darcy spoke, his voice cool and measured. “I am aware of Elizabeth’s broken engagement. She has been entirely forthcoming on both matters.”

“Then you knowingly married a woman who had jilted another gentleman at the altar?” Lady Catherine demanded. “Have you taken leave of your senses entirely, nephew?”

“I married a woman of intelligence, principles, and courage,” Darcy replied.

“Principles! The girl fled from a respectable match because of financial circumstances. The Bennets sought to secure their future through advantageous marriages. First with the Blackfriars, and when that scheme failed, with you.”

“My family will resolve their financial matters without Mr Darcy’s assistance,” Elizabeth said with quiet dignity. “They have done so even now, through legitimate channels.”