Page 27 of Out of His Wits (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

The thought that he might have inadvertently bound himself to her through his own ungoverned behaviour should have filled him with dismay.

Instead, as he made his way to bid farewell to Mr. Bennet and Miss Bennet, Darcy felt no fear.

He wished that his fevered memories were entirely, completely, and wonderfully accurate.

As she walked towards the great hall with Bingley, Elizabeth’s mind was racing.

She knew exactly what had transpired between Mr. Darcy and herself.

Every word, every touch, every moment of intimacy that had passed in that moonlit music room was seared into her recollection.

The question was not what had happened, but what it signified to him now that he was restored to his senses.

His declarations of love, spoken with such raw honesty in his altered state, had revealed matters she suspected he would never have shared otherwise.

But did those feelings survive the return of his rational mind?

Perhaps more troubling—what did her own racing heart whenever she thought of that evening say about her own regard for him?

The proud, disagreeable man she had once dismissed so readily no longer existed in her view.

In his place was someone far more complex—capable of deep feeling, vulnerable beneath his reserved exterior, and possessed of a gentleness she had never imagined.

Whether or not he remembered their encounter, she could never again see him as the cold, arrogant figure she had once believed him to be.

Mr. Bennet was preparing to take his departure. That gentleman moved with the measured care of one whose frame protested the dampness of the season. Here, perhaps, lay an opportunity to address at least one of his concerns.

“Mr. Bennet,” Darcy ventured, approaching with what he hoped appeared casual interest, “I am curious about the arrangements for Miss Elizabeth’s expedition. The Morrison cottage lies at some distance from Longbourn, does it not?”

Mr. Bennet paused in collecting his hat and gloves, regarding Darcy with mild surprise. “Indeed, though hardly what one might term a considerable journey. A pleasant walk of a few miles, no more.”

“Ah.” Darcy hesitated, seeking a path towards his true concern. “Miss Elizabeth is accustomed to such solitary rambles about the countryside.”

Mr. Bennet raised a brow in question as he responded lightly, “She is indeed.”

Darcy’s chest tightened with something approaching consternation. “But surely, given the circumstances—the possibility that the family may be concealing a fugitive, however innocent—some measure of caution would be prudent?”

“Caution?” Mr. Bennet’s brows rose with clear amusement. “Against the Morrison family? Mr. Darcy, they number among the most peaceable souls in the county. The greatest peril Elizabeth faces is being pressed to accept an excess of tea and gratitude for her condescension in calling.”

“Nevertheless,” Darcy persisted, conscious that his concern might appear excessive yet unable to dismiss it, “the roads may prove uncertain, and should the girl not have indeed returned home, there might be complications.”

Mr. Bennet studied him with the penetrating regard of one accustomed to reading beneath the veneer of politeness. “You are in earnest regarding Elizabeth’s safety?”

It was not truly a question, and Darcy was momentarily at a loss how to respond without revealing more than propriety permitted. “I am concerned for any lady venturing unattended into circumstances that might prove disagreeable.”

“I see,” Mr. Bennet replied with a tone suggesting he deemed Darcy’s explanation both inadequate and intriguing. “I am curious regarding your particular solicitude for my daughter’s welfare.”

Warmth rose in his neck, but he pressed forward with determined resolve.

“Perhaps I might, that is, would it be presumptuous to suggest that I accompany Miss Elizabeth upon this expedition? As a gentleman, I could ensure her safety, and as one with considerable interest in resolving this matter justly, I might prove of service in any negotiations that become necessary.”

The words emerged with greater awkwardness than he had intended, and he was keenly aware of how they might be construed. Mr. Bennet’s expression grew distinctly speculative.

“You desire to accompany my daughter on a charitable call to tenants?”

“For her protection,” Darcy said hastily, then perceived how that might sound. “To ensure she possesses adequate support should the circumstances prove more complex than expected.”

“Indeed.” Mr. Bennet’s tone remained carefully neutral. “You suggest such protection could not be sufficiently provided by, perhaps, a footman from Netherfield? Or one of my people?”

Darcy perceived himself trapped between honesty and discretion.

A footman would indeed furnish protection—likely more appropriate protection than his own presence.

Yet a footman would not afford him the private discourse he desperately required, nor the opportunity to address at last the questions that had been consuming his thoughts these days past.

“A footman might prove adequate,” he conceded reluctantly. “Though given the particular nature of the inquiries Miss Elizabeth must conduct, a gentleman’s presence might lend greater consequence to the proceedings.”

It was feeble reasoning, and both were sensible of it. Mr. Bennet regarded him with the expression of one observing a fascinating specimen behaving unexpectedly.

“Mr. Darcy,” he said at length, “I suspect your interest in this investigation extends beyond mere curiosity regarding justice.”

Darcy’s jaw grew taut. He was being conducted into waters far deeper than he had intended to navigate, yet retreat appeared impossible without appearing either foolish or suspect.

“I possess a considerable interest in seeing this matter resolved with justice,” he said with careful deliberation. “The reputation of Netherfield’s establishment, the fate of an innocent girl, the question of who truly bears responsibility—these are hardly trivial concerns.”

“They are not,” Mr. Bennet concurred. “Though I observe you have not actually addressed my remark.”

An uneasy pause followed, replete with unspoken questions and half-acknowledged tensions. At length, Darcy reached his determination.

“I shall not pretend my concern is entirely disinterested,” he said tightly.

“Miss Elizabeth has shown remarkable penetration into this affair, and I believe her perspective shall prove invaluable in uncovering the truth. If my presence can facilitate that discovery whilst ensuring her safety, then I account it a worthy contribution.”

“Should Elizabeth object to your escort?”

The question struck at the very heart of Darcy’s uncertainty. Did she wish to avoid his society? Was she as desirous of a private conversation as he, or had their interrupted discourse in the library represented an unwelcome intrusion upon her tranquillity?

“Then naturally I would respect her wishes,” he replied, though the prospect filled him with marked disappointment.

Mr. Bennet studied him for a considerable moment, then gathered his remaining effects with the air of one who had reached some private conclusion.

“I shall present the matter to Elizabeth,” he said finally. “I suspect she will be sensible of the practical advantages of your proposal.”

Something in his tone suggested layers of meaning Darcy could not entirely comprehend, yet before he might pursue the matter further, Mr. Bennet had taken his leave with a bow that seemed to carry just a hint of knowing amusement.

Alone in the entryway, Darcy moved to the window and gazed upon the grounds where the high summer green had begun to dull beneath dust and heat.

Tomorrow perhaps he would at last secure the opportunity to address the questions that had been tormenting him.

Whether Miss Elizabeth would welcome such discourse remained to be discovered, but at least the chance would present itself.

The thought filled him with equal measures of anticipation and apprehension.