Page 37

CHAPTER 37

Bingley Finds Out

I t was still early when Darcy and Elizabeth arrived at Netherfield.

Inside, Lady Matlock and Aunt Horatia were already awake and seated in the smaller sitting room they frequented each morning while they waited on the rest of the Bingleys and the Hursts to wake and come down for breakfast. A silver tea service sat between them, steam curling gently from the spout.

Lady Matlock sat upright in her chair, hands folded too tightly in her lap to be at ease.

While she maintained a composed expression, her eyes flicked repeatedly towards the door.

Her son had shared the barest outline of the plan with her the night before—only after she questioned him about his visible agitation following the dinner.

She had not slept soundly, filled with worry as she considered various scenarios that might result in injury to either her son or her nephew—or the girl who would soon be her niece.

If Horatia Bingley noticed her companion’s agitated state, she did not mention it.

When Darcy and Elizabeth were shown in, unaccompanied, both appearing wind-worn but whole, the ladies said nothing of the unusual arrival.

If either were surprised, they did not let it show.

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy. Miss Elizabeth,” Aunt Horatia greeted them.

“Would either of you care for coffee or tea?”

Elizabeth returned the greeting, her voice calm despite the faint flush in her cheeks.

Both she and Darcy requested tea, and Aunt Horatia rang the bell.

A maid appeared almost instantly, and upon receiving her instructions, she hurried away, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

As soon as they were alone, Aunt Horatia turned to Elizabeth.

“Tell me, my dear—how is it you find yourself at Netherfield so early in the morning?”

The question was delivered mildly, but Elizabeth could sense the curiosity behind it.

She did not hesitate to provide an explanation.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy arranged a plan to trap Mr. Wickham,” she said.

“He has long troubled the Darcy family, and this morning, at last, he was caught. This time, he will face the consequences of his actions.”

Lady Matlock leant forward slightly, her gaze shifting between them.

“All is well, then? No one was hurt? Everything went according to plan?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Yes. All is well. Word has already been sent to my father, and Wickham is on his way to face a court martial.”

Darcy, who had been silent until now, suddenly straightened, unable to hold back any longer.

“Miss Bingley—” he began, then paused before speaking again.

“Miss Bingley, is your nephew awake? I must speak with him at once; Hurst, too, if it can be managed.”

He shook his head as if trying to clear it of the morning’s events.

“You should hear what I have to say, as well—but I would rather not repeat it. If it is not too much trouble, would you please send for both of your nephews?”

Aunt Horatia gave a small, decisive nod.

“They ought to be awake. If either is not, I will instruct his valet to rouse him and have him presentable as soon as may be.”

She rose and moved towards the door.

“I suspect whatever you have to say will be neither pleasant nor suited to delay.”

Without waiting for a servant, Aunt Horatia nodded and left the sitting room, giving the others a few moments of privacy.

While the maid delivered a second tea tray and refreshed the first, Horatia made her way up the stairs to her nephews’ chambers.

She knocked quietly on Bingley’s door.

After a short pause, his valet opened the door, blinking in surprise to see her standing there so early.

Without raising her voice, she instructed him to wake and to have his master downstairs and presentable as quickly as possible.

From there she moved to Hurst’s room, finding him already awake and in the process of dressing.

“Meet us downstairs in a quarter of an hour,” she said quietly.

“Mr. Darcy wishes to speak with Charles, you, and me without delay.”

He nodded without argument and began dressing in earnest.

Nearly thirty minutes later, Bingley entered the sitting room, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket, his expression still drowsy but curious, particularly when he noticed the way the door was opened by one of Darcy’s footmen who shut the door again as soon as Bingley entered.

His gaze immediately turned to Elizabeth, who was seated beside Darcy.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, blinking in surprise.

“What brings you here so early?”

“She arrived with me,” Darcy said, rising to his feet, his voice calm but firm as he faced the two gentlemen.

“Bingley, Hurst—there is something you both must hear.”

Darcy began to recount the events of that morning: Wickham’s planned approach, the trap set to catch him in the act, and Elizabeth’s role in drawing him out.

Each word he spoke was precise, stripped of unnecessary emotion but clear in its urgency and in the danger that Elizabeth faced.

Then, his voice tightening, he shared what Lieutenant Sanderson had reported—of the meeting between Wickham and Caroline Bingley, and the sum exchanged in return for Wickham’s promise to compromise Elizabeth.

Sanderson had told Fitzwilliam more about what Wickham had said about the Bennets, including the rumour that Elizabeth would one day inherit Longbourn.

The room fell silent.

“That cannot be true, Darcy,” Bingley said at last, his voice thick with disbelief.

“Caroline may be thoughtless—vain and selfish, even—but she would never…she could not…that is not possible.”

“She did,” Darcy replied, his tone colder than it had been all morning.

“There is no doubt since at least one witness heard her very clearly. I suggest you speak to her maid, for she was also involved in the plot.”

“Charles,” Aunt Horatia began, “we warned you that something like this was not only possible but likely. I questioned your giving her her full allowance and told you that she was heard muttering on several occasions that she would do whatever it took to ensure Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy would not wed. Can you truly be that shocked that she would go to this extreme, particularly after seeing how upset she was after the dinner party Monday night?”

“Caroline would never do as you have suggested,” Bingley said again.

“Bingley, are you truly so foolish?” Hurst bit out, tired of hearing his brother by marriage excuse the younger Bingley sister.

“Caroline is vindictive and cruel and would have no qualm about causing harm to someone who was in her way. She has always wanted Darcy, and, despite her recent insistence otherwise, she would have never given up on him, not until he was married and perhaps not even then.”

Bingley merely shook his head.

“I cannot believe it of her,” he reiterated.

“One of the grooms followed Caroline when she rode out the morning after our dinner party with the Bennets and Lucases,” Aunt Horatia told him.

“He told me the same thing that Lieutenant Sanderson told Colonel Fitzwilliam. If you recall, I warned you several days ago that you must do something about your sister. You neglected to act by speaking to the grooms or coachman about not allowing her to leave the grounds.”

“And I told you, Bingley, about her trip into the village one day last week,” Hurst interjected.

“The matter of your sister is no longer yours to manage, Bingley,” Darcy said, his voice sharp, cutting through Bingley’s protests.

He looked squarely at the man he had called a friend for years, disappointment etched in every word.

Bingley had always been too quick to excuse his sister’s behaviour, and now Darcy wondered if he would ever see her clearly.

Bingley stared at him, stunned.

“What are you saying, Darcy?”

It was Lady Matlock who answered, her voice cool and commanding as she spoke for the first time since the gentlemen had entered.

“You have two choices, Mr. Bingley,” she said.

“Your sister’s actions were not merely improper—they were criminal. If you choose to shield her or turn a blind eye, I will see to it that word of her involvement spreads throughout every drawing room in London. You and your sister will be thoroughly disgraced.”

Bingley paled .

“If, however,” she continued, “you acknowledge the gravity of what she has done—if you condemn her conduct—then I will leave it to Miss Bennet and Mr. Bennet to determine what consequence should follow. But do not mistake my meaning: one way or another, your sister will be held accountable.”

Bingley turned to look at Elizabeth.

“Surely you must realise that she did not truly understand what she was doing,” he said, his voice pleading.

“She did not know of the connection between Darcy and this Wickham fellow and did not realise the extent to which he might act.”

“Does that truly matter, Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth asked, her voice steady as she tilted her head slightly, fixing him with a calm but piercing gaze.

“Were your sister’s actions somehow less abhorrent because she may not have known the full extent of what Lieutenant Wickham intended?”

Bingley opened his mouth to respond, but no words came.

Elizabeth continued, her tone still composed but sharpened by the weight of the truth.

“If the situation were reversed—and I had paid a man to ruin your sister, extending to your entire family—would you be so quick to excuse it? Would you feel no anger? Would you not expect me to be held accountable for what I had done?”

Bingley continued to stare at her, still unable to speak.

Darcy stepped in then, his voice cold and controlled, each word deliberate.

“Bingley, if Wickham had succeeded, it would not have ended with a kiss, or some trivial scandal to be quietly forgotten. His intent was clear—to render Elizabeth unmarriageable.”

He paused, allowing the words to sink in before adding with steel in his voice, “That is what your sister wished for. She even lied to Wickham, telling him that Elizabeth would likely inherit Longbourn one day, offering him an extra incentive to go as far as he dared. She did not act out of ignorance. She acted with cruel intentions. She wanted Elizabeth ruined, and she wanted her to suffer. All because she wanted what she could not have—me.”

“Darcy,” Bingley began, but Darcy waved his hand, cutting him off.

“Unless you intend to acknowledge your sister’s faults, I do not want to hear it. I refuse to hear any more excuses for her behaviour,” Darcy said harshly.

Bingley turned instead to Elizabeth.

“What would you see done to her?” he asked softly.

Elizabeth drew in a slow breath through her nose, then let it out just as slowly.

“I do not know at present. My father will no doubt have some ideas about what ought to happen, and I will need to discuss it with him and William before we make any decisions. At the very least, she has no place in polite society—although banishment seems too easy since one man will hang for his part in it, after all. However, I am not certain that she deserves to go to Newgate for what she has done. The conditions there are so inhumane that I can hardly imagine sending another young woman there despite what she has done. I am torn,” she admitted.

Bingley stared, glancing back and forth between Darcy and Elizabeth.

“You called him William,” he said, his tone accusing.

“We are engaged,” Darcy replied, cutting off anything his friend may have said after that.

“Mr. Bennet has given his blessing, and, for what it is worth, so did my father. It is a long story and not one I intend to share at this moment. We have kept the engagement a secret from all but a few due to this threat from Wickham and your sister.”

“But Caroline was so certain...” Bingley was cut off, but this time it was by Colonel Fitzwilliam entering the room.

“Then your sister is every bit as much of a fool as you are,” Fitzwilliam replied.

“Darcy would have never married your sister, and it has far less to do with her connections to trade than his desire to not tie himself to a termagant. If you truly thought Darcy would one day give in and marry your sister, then you are blind, not to mention deaf, for my cousin has made his stance very clear.”

Bingley let out a low groan and sank further into his chair, burying his face in his hands.

His shoulders sagged under the weight of realisation of how far he had fallen.

“I do not know why I ever listened to her,” he muttered, his voice muffled.

“What am I to do with her now?”

Aunt Horatia stood, her gaze cool and unwavering as she looked down at her nephew.

“You begin,” she said crisply, “by finding her a situation—somewhere far from town, far from temptation, and far from the society she craves. Then,” she added, her tone sharpening, “you follow the example set by your friend and his cousin—and learn how to become a man. I suggest you escort her yourself to wherever she is going, and perhaps along the way, you can explain to her precisely where she has erred and how you have erred in not correcting her.”

There was no malice in her words, but no softness, either.

Bingley had no room to argue.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, raising his head to look at her.

“Allow me to apologise for my sister’s actions and for not checking her sooner. I am uncertain whether I could have done anything to prevent this, but I ought to have made the attempt. Please inform me when you and your father have made your decision about her punishment, and I will comply.”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Thank you, Mr. Bingley. I accept your apology, at least for your own actions. While you ought to have done something to check your sister long before now, you are not wholly responsible for her actions. She is quite old enough to know that what she did was wrong. However, I do not envy you having to inform her.”

Darcy’s gaze locked onto Bingley’s, cold and unyielding.

“My family and I will remain under your roof, Bingley, but only on one condition; your sister must be kept under constant guard. A footman—one strong enough to restrain her, if necessary—should be stationed outside the doors to her chambers until she departs.”

Darcy straightened slightly, his voice tightening.

“Under no circumstances will I be in the same room as her. If she attempts to speak to me—or to any member of my family—I will leave Netherfield without a moment’s hesitation. If you cannot agree to these terms, I will take myself to Longbourn until Elizabeth and I are wed and can return to London. Doing so may not be entirely proper, given my engagement to Elizabeth, but I do not care. I will not subject myself or those I love to your sister’s presence. Nor will I hear her speak a word against Elizabeth or any other member of the Bennet family.”

Bingley swallowed hard and nodded, his eyes dropping to the floor.

He could not meet Darcy’s gaze.

“You are correct,” he said quietly.

“Forgive me, Darcy. You have warned me before about her conduct and about my habit of giving in to her far too easily. Both you and Lady Matlock have spoken plainly about her atrocious behaviour, and I have done nothing. Even my inviting Aunt Horatia was done for selfish reasons and was another way for me to abdicate my responsibility for my sister.”

He looked up, shame written across his face.

“I have not been much of a friend to you.”

Darcy looked at him harshly.

“I cannot disagree, Bingley. Our relationship henceforth will be dependent on how you act in this situation and whether you can do as your aunt has suggested and learn to take responsibility for yourself.”

Bingley nodded before quietly excusing himself and going to speak to the footmen about guarding his sister’s room.

Once that was done, he would speak to her himself and inform her that he knew of her actions and that there would be consequences.

“Come, Elizabeth,” Darcy began.

“I believe we are done here, and I confess that I prefer to be far away before Charles speaks to his sister. Richard, are you returning to the camp?”

He grinned.

“No, in fact, I came to find you. I will accompany you to Longbourn and will tell both of you and Bennet at the same time what Wickham has said and what he attempted to claim.”

“I do not think I can bear anything more today,” Darcy muttered, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, his weariness plain in the gesture.

Elizabeth chuckled. “Come, William, and after your cousin is finished we will sneak outside for a respite, and I will soothe the ache in your head,” she whispered.

Darcy looked up at her, startled, heat creeping up his neck and turning the tips of his ears pink before he burst into laughter.

Elizabeth looked offended.

“What about my offer was humorous?” she asked.

Still laughing, Darcy lightly patted her hand.

“I love you, Elizabeth,” he said, leaving Elizabeth still glaring at the non sequitur .

“I will explain later, my dearest—after we are wed.”

Perplexed by his answer, Elizabeth glared at him a moment longer before relenting and allowing him and his cousin to escort her to the stables.