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“America,” Darcy stated simply. “You could take your fortune and establish yourself there. Begin anew in a country where enterprise is valued and social hierarchies are less rigid than here in England.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose slightly, but she remained silent, allowing him to continue without interruption.

“I believe what happened was indeed accidental in the sense that you never intended Caroline’s death,” Darcy elaborated, choosing his words with care.

“A moment’s loss of control rather than deliberate malice.

Yet I cannot in good conscience suggest that you should escape all consequences for your actions. ”

“I would not wish to,” Bingley interjected, his voice steadier now. “I cannot escape the knowledge of what I have done, Darcy. It will remain with me always.”

“Precisely,” Darcy agreed. “And that internal accountability is perhaps the most significant punishment. However, there must also be external consequences. By removing yourself from England, you would surrender your position in society here, your connections, the life you have built. It would be a form of exile, self-imposed but no less real.”

He began to pace slowly, working through the implications of his suggestion.

“Once safely arrived in America, you would write to Mr. Burnley, explaining the truth of what occurred. The law would not pursue you across the Atlantic; it would be impractical and prohibitively expensive. Yet the truth would be known, and you would have acknowledged your responsibility.”

“The scandal would still touch those left behind,” Elizabeth pointed out quietly. “Louisa and Mr. Hurst in particular.”

Darcy nodded, acknowledging this complication.

“True, but less directly than if matters proceeded to a public trial. The situation could be presented as Bingley having left England overcome with grief at his sister’s death, unable to face the memories associated with Netherfield.

His subsequent confession, arriving after his departure, would be a private matter between himself and the magistrate.

Mr. and Mrs. Hurst… well, they could choose to join you, or establish themselves here in England without your presence, the choice would be theirs.

I will acknowledge them, if they remain. They are guiltless in this matter.”

Elizabeth’s expression was approving, and that gave Darcy the strength to look Bingley in the eye and continue.

“It is not a perfect solution, nor one entirely aligned with the strictest interpretation of justice. If your conscience demands that you face the full legal consequences of your actions here in England, I will not attempt to dissuade you. But if you wish for an opportunity to build a different life, one where you might contribute positively to society rather than spending years in prison, this offers such a chance.”

Bingley’s expression had transformed as Darcy spoke, despair giving way to desperate hope. “You would do this for me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “After what I have done, you would help me escape the gallows?”

“Not for you alone,” Darcy clarified, unwilling to present his suggestion as mere friendship overriding principle.

“For all who would be harmed by the scandal of a public trial, including my own family. And because I believe that justice can take multiple forms. Your life in America would not be without challenges or regrets. You would carry the knowledge of your actions with you always. But you would have the opportunity to perhaps, in time, make some amends through a life well-lived.”

“It would require immediate action,” Elizabeth observed quietly. “Before Mr. Burnley’s investigation proceeds further. Sooner or later he will question Helen, and I will not ask her to lie for you. Or one of the maids will find the blood trail which we discovered.”

“Indeed,” Darcy agreed. “Passage would need to be secured without delay. Financial arrangements made discreetly. A plausible explanation given for such a sudden departure.”

Bingley stood, a new energy animating his movements despite his evident exhaustion.

“I can leave tonight,” he said, the words tumbling out in his eagerness.

“There are ships departing Liverpool regularly for America; I have contacts there who could assist with the necessary arrangements. My solicitor holds powers that would allow him to manage the transfer of funds.”

His rapid planning confirmed to Darcy what he had already suspected: that Bingley saw this suggestion not merely as an escape from legal consequences but as liberation from a life that had become intolerable to him.

The eagerness with which he embraced the prospect of leaving England spoke volumes about his state of mind.

“What of Louisa?” Elizabeth asked. “She has just lost her sister. To lose her brother as well, even to a distant location rather than death, would be another significant blow.”

Bingley’s expression sobered. “I shall speak with her privately before I leave. Explain that I need to distance myself from the memories here, but not the full truth. In time, when she has recovered somewhat from her grief for Caroline, I will write to her, invite her and Hurst to visit America. I will make Caroline’s dowry of twenty thousand over to her; that should ensure she and Hurst want for nothing. ”

“And Jane?” Elizabeth pressed gently. “What would you have her told?”

A flash of pain crossed Bingley’s features at the mention of Jane’s name. “The same as others, I suppose. That grief has driven me from England. Her happiness with Colonel Fitzwilliam seems assured; she need never know my part in this tragedy.”

Darcy considered this, weighing the moral implications of allowing Jane to remain ignorant of the full circumstances.

He caught Elizabeth's eye, and realised Elizabeth would never keep her sister in ignorance.

But perhaps it was better that Bingley thought Jane would never know, that she might continue to think well of him.

“I believe that is best,” he said finally, avoiding saying directly that Jane would not be told.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam must know the truth, as we have already confided in him our suspicions, as must Mr. Burnley eventually. But I believe the fewer who know the complete story, the better for all concerned.”

Bingley nodded gratefully. “I shall begin preparations immediately. My valet can pack essential items without raising suspicion. I can leave tonight, citing urgent business in London as my destination, then proceed directly to Liverpool instead.”

The rapidity with which practical arrangements were being made left Darcy feeling somewhat disoriented, as though events had acquired a momentum of their own beyond his control. Yet he could see no better alternative now that the course was set.

“I shall assist with whatever arrangements are necessary,” he offered, duty compelling him to see the plan through to completion now that he had proposed it. “A letter of introduction to a business associate of mine in New York might prove useful.”

“That would be most kind,” Bingley replied, his voice thick with emotion. “Darcy, I cannot express adequately what your friendship has meant, especially now, when I deserve it least.”

Darcy felt a curious mixture of emotions at these words.

Could true friendship exist alongside such deception?

Yet as he looked at Bingley, he recognised that the essential goodness he had always valued in his friend had not vanished, though it had been momentarily overcome by human frailty.

Perhaps there was a kind of integrity in acknowledging this complexity rather than retreating into simplistic moral judgment.

“You must write to Mr. Burnley once you are safely established,” Darcy reminded him firmly. “That is a condition of my assistance, not a suggestion. Without that acknowledgment of responsibility, this plan becomes mere evasion rather than an alternative form of justice.”

“I give you my solemn word,” Bingley promised, his expression serious. “Once I am settled, I shall write a full account of what occurred. The truth will be known, though I shall be beyond the reach of English law.”

Elizabeth, who had been observing this exchange with thoughtful attention, finally spoke.

“Mr. Bingley, while I cannot condone what happened, I do understand something of how relentless manipulation can drive one to actions otherwise unimaginable. I hope you find in America not merely escape from consequences here, but an opportunity to discover who you truly are when free from others’ control. ”

Her words, compassionate yet unflinching in their acknowledgment of reality, seemed to affect Bingley deeply. He bowed his head, unable to meet her gaze directly. “Thank you, Mrs. Darcy. Your understanding is more than I deserve, but I shall strive to become worthy of it in time.”

“We should leave you to your preparations,” Darcy said, aware that practical matters now required attention if their plan was to succeed.

“I shall return in an hour to discuss specifics regarding your journey.” The solution they had arrived at was imperfect, a compromise between justice and mercy that would likely trouble Darcy’s conscience in quieter moments of reflection.

Yet it offered a path forward that acknowledged the complexity of human failing without surrendering entirely to either harsh judgment or easy absolution.

Bingley nodded, already moving toward his desk with newfound purpose. “I shall be ready. And Darcy... Elizabeth... thank you. Not for saving me from consequences, but for allowing me the dignity of choosing which consequences to face.”

As they left the study, closing the door quietly behind them, Darcy felt the weight of the decision he had just made settling upon his shoulders.

He had acted neither as the strictest justice nor the most indulgent friendship would dictate, but somewhere in the uncertain territory between.

Whether this compromise would eventually sit easily with his conscience remained to be seen, but for now, it seemed the only path that acknowledged both the gravity of what had occurred and the possibility of redemption he honestly believed Bingley deserved.

Elizabeth’s hand found his as they walked in silence toward their chambers, her touch communicating understanding without need for words.

In that simple gesture, Darcy found reassurance that whatever judgments others might eventually make of his decision, the one person whose opinion he valued above all others walked beside him still, her moral compass aligned with his own even in this most difficult of moments.