Page 35 of Some Natural Importance (Pride, Prejudice and Romance #3)

It was an acquaintance of minutes and Elizabeth knew her father and younger sisters had been correct.

The sanctimonious Mr Collins offended her ideal of a husband, betrayed her idea of a clergyman, and angered her pride in her home and family.

A husband need not be handsome in looks but he must be kind and handsome in demeanour.

A clergyman need not be saintly, but he must be thoughtful and knowledgeable, a believer in grace.

Longbourn may not boast the grandeur of Rosings and its closets and fireplaces and its many, many windows, but its worn warmth and familiar corners claimed her heart.

Longbourn he could take by legal means, but the odious Mr Collins could not take her, nor dear Jane, for his wife.

God save us. Jane deserves a man of superior character and I deserve one less stupid.

If a choice must be made, she knew what hers must be .

Darcy was standing idle in the billiards room, awaiting Hurst’s return and listening to Mr Robbins describe the scale of the pipe organs he had seen on the continent.

Darcy took great pleasure in music but the mechanics and engineering of the instruments which created it were not topics of interest to him.

At present he was far more interested in engineering a bank shot to conclude this game and creating a convenient excuse to go to Longbourn and talk to Elizabeth.

Voices in the corridor drew his attention and he moved towards the doorway only to hear the insistent tones of Miss Bingley.

“I will take it to him myself.”

“No bother, Caroline. The man has waited overlong and I shall bring him joy with this?—”

“Truly, Gregory, I insist,” Miss Bingley said in a voice exhibiting angry urgency. “Give it to me!”

“Down now, Sister,” Hurst chuckled.

Darcy glanced at Mr Robbins, who appeared nonplussed by the exchange. “I know you shan’t marry her, Darcy, so I believe it is safe for me to confide that I find Louisa’s sister an insufferable twit.”

He was more successful hiding his surprise than Hurst was in choking back a grin when he entered, a step ahead of Miss Bingley, waving a letter.

“Darcy, we have news! Bingley has not been killed by his new horse! He has written to you!”

Finally.

“You speak of my brother! He has a fine seat, as you know. Not as fine as yours, of course, Mr Darcy?—”

Darcy, his gaze firmly on Hurst, asked whether the letter was legible.

“Ho! Shall we wager on how many words you make out?” Hurst handed him the letter while Miss Bingley looked on nervously.

“I am the most practised at reading my brother’s blots and scratches. Do let me read it for you.” Miss Bingley showed no grace in grabbing at the paper.

Darcy spared her a glance before walking a few steps away to open the missive. Immediately he realised it was not written in Bingley’s hand but dictated to another, who could boast of a neat, swooping, and easy to read hand.

Darcy,

I shall not be insulted at the lack of reply to my previous letter; although I have been diligent to ensure the direction is written well, the post may have gone astray.

The horse is magnificent, and more than a little spirited.

I have forgiven her, but shall need your advice on equine discipline.

Since I last wrote, my arm is much healed and the ache in my backside has lessened.

I am able to hold a pen but circumstances have again forced me to rely on Calthorpe’s able writing skills.

I shall be on my way in another day or so, and soon arrive at Netherfield.

Please pass on my regards to all, especially to Miss Bennet.

I had thought only a few days would pass before meeting again, but it has been weeks. I shall make apologies straightaway.

As he exhaled, Darcy felt Miss Bingley’s gaze turn from him to the billiard table. He could think of terrible things to say, difficult questions to pose, but instead, he folded the letter and handed it to Hurst. Darcy stood silently for the few moments it took the man to peruse it.

“Thrown from his horse? Darcy, what did you know of this?”

“I knew nothing of it, albeit he has written to me of his accident and injuries in letters I have not received. As you read, he conjectures the post ‘may have gone astray’.”

Both men turned to Miss Bingley.

“Is your brother dazed, or have there been previous letters? ”

“I-I...as Charles said, they must have gone astray.”

Hurst snorted. “Upon arrival, or before?”

The lady’s silence stirred Darcy to question what information was in those letters he had not received.

“Were you aware of the reason for your brother’s delay? That he had been injured?”

“Charles mentioned some difficulty with the horse,” she said slowly, “but as you know, I have no interest in such matters so I did not read on.”

“And neglected to inform those of us expressing concern over the lack of news from him.”

Hurst growled in agreement. “Badly done, Caroline.”

A quiet cough from the corner reminded them all that Mr Robbins was present in the room.

“It was a small misunderstanding,” said a clearly offended Miss Bingley. “He is now on his way here.”

A small misunderstanding? Her affected guilelessness sickened him. Bingley wrote nothing that indicated he knew of Mr Bennet’s death and the precarious situation facing the Bennet family. “Did you write to your brother with news of the Bennets’ loss?”

“I may have,” she conceded, “although I have sent but one letter to him. His direction was unclear, as you know...”

The anger rising within him crested with his next question. “Can you assure me that any letters sent to me at Netherfield have in fact been delivered to me and have not ‘gone astray’?”

“Yes, yes, of course!” There was nothing in the lady’s panicked expression to convince Darcy of her honesty.

He was still glaring at her when the footman entered with another note, this one from Longbourn.

He lifted it from the salver and strode away from company to read it in privacy; he had not seen Elizabeth since their argument, and as she had never before written to him, he feared knowing the reasons that would compel it .

Mr Darcy,

Do not be alarmed on receiving this note; my news is not distressing, but you should be made aware of today’s unpleasant turn of events. My cousin has come to Longbourn, spilling over in his eagerness to be a country squire. I fear my mother may drown in his effusions.

E Bennet

Well. It was not a refusal or announcement of her intention to hie off to her aunt’s house. She needs me to know this, to lend her assistance. Heartened by her words and angry that his own parson had ignored his instructions, Darcy called for his cloak and hat.

Caroline stood at the window, watching Darcy ride furiously towards the gates, away from Netherfield and, undoubtedly, towards his dear Eliza.

Nothing in the world made sense to her, and certainly there was nothing normal in Mr Darcy’s behaviour.

She had known him only a little when he wed his cousin, and Charles had assured her the marriage was more an act of familial duty than of love.

Darcy had married Anne de Bourgh so she would not die a spinster, and then he was fortunate enough that the mother had soon followed her daughter into the grave.

He had looked handsome in his dark mourning clothes; the black fabrics only deepened the sense of melancholy Caroline sensed about him, and which she was sure she could appease.

She and Charles had always managed to raise Darcy’s spirits; Charles was naturally cheerful and she shared a cutting wit with Darcy.

She knew he liked her; she was certain he could love her.

But his head and heart were scarred, confused after his brief marriage of convenience.

Three years past it all, with two manor houses gathering dust and in need of a mistress, he arrived in Netherfield.

He was the same intelligent, courteous man he had ever been, and ripe for the picking, only to fall into the acquaintance of yet another sickly creature—Mr Bennet.

With that man’s death—and for reasons that made no sense—Darcy felt some obligation to the family, most especially to Eliza Bennet.

She could not be certain of the particulars or the reasons for such a connexion, but it was there, undeniably there, and Eliza was clever enough to manoeuvre him into marriage.

The thought just made her tremble. Charles likely knew little of it; he had been conveniently tied up in Scarborough, and now Chelmsford.

Only one or two others might have some idea, and it was time to learn more and gather assistance in saving Darcy.

Georgiana,

My dear friend, how long it has been since I have seen you! The country has become so dull, and I miss my friends in town. Tell me all that I have missed. Plays and music, and of course, the latest fashions and gossip.

There is a pall here, cast by the death of a local squire whom your brother had befriended.

He continues his attentions to the widow and her five daughters, all of them out and unattached, and who appear, if not penniless, at least—to your brother—in some form of distress.

I worry that with his kind heart, an unwanted attachment could occur through their artful scheming and compromise. I fear scandal and heartbreak....