Page 10 of The Bennet Heir

Chapter Nine

W hen Darcy returned to Netherfield, his host was still not downstairs. He returned to his room to wash off the dust and dirt before breakfast, but he remained in his riding clothes since he intended to depart the house after the meal. That done, he retired to the library to wait, selecting a book from the meagre selection to pass the time. After arranging for one of his own footmen to sit just inside the door, ensuring he knew that his primary responsibility was to prevent Miss Bingley from compromising the master, Darcy attempted to read his book.

He was distracted, idly turning pages, while his eyes barely registered the text. His mind was elsewhere—replaying the events of the previous days, the good and the bad. The sudden burst of movement as Bingley entered the room startled him from his musings.

“Darcy, I am almost surprised to see that you returned here at all after last evening,” Bingley exclaimed, his usual easygoing demeanour replaced by unfamiliar tension. His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line as he paced across the room. “It was quite badly done of you—to leave as you did with barely a word to your hosts? Caroline was rather put out that you refused to dance with her after dinner—the second time on this trip that you have failed to pay that compliment to your hostess—and then seemed to deny any connection between the two of you when she asked you to introduce her to our neighbours. Was it your intention to make her jealous by escorting that Bennet girl around in her stead?”

Darcy’s grip tightened on the book, his knuckles whitening as a flicker of frustration crossed his face. With deliberate care, he set the volume aside and rose from his chair, his posture stiff and unyielding.

“Why would I attempt to make your sister jealous, Bingley?” Though controlled, Darcy’s voice carried an unmistakable edge. “I have told you often enough that I am not interested in Miss Bingley. It was inappropriate for me to introduce her to your neighbours, and her repeated attempts to imply a deeper connection between us did not merit acknowledgment. Had I danced with her, she would have seized upon it as confirmation of the attachment she so desperately wishes to claim.”

His gaze locked onto Bingley’s, steely and unwavering. “I told you this after the assembly. Her implications that evening were beyond the pale. I have asked you repeatedly to speak to her about her habit of clinging to my arm and presuming an intimacy that does not exist, yet it is apparent you have not done so—or at least not with any effect. I will not indulge her pretensions by standing up with her at any event, either here or in town.” Though his tone remained measured, his irritation was evident.

Bingley’s face flushed, and he opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it, his expression caught between embarrassment and concern. He was not used to this directness from Darcy, and he did not seem to know how to respond. His hands fidgeted at his sides, a rare show of discomfort for a man usually so composed.

Ignoring the younger man, Darcy continued, his tone sharpening with every word. “I have been willing to befriend you, but I will no longer allow your sister to use my name to gain entry into society. Since you do not understand my stance on this, I intend to depart Netherfield this morning, not even remaining for breakfast or to take my leave of your sisters.”

“No, Darcy, you must not leave—please, stay at Netherfield a little longer. I cannot possibly manage the estate without your help, and I would like to get to know Miss Jane Bennet better, which I cannot do if you are not here to assist me. The lady is everything lovely,” Bingley insisted.

“Your sister had me locked out of the house last evening,” Darcy retorted.

Bingley looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“All the doors were locked, and no one was on duty at the front door or anywhere else in the house as far as I could tell. I knocked on the kitchen door for a quarter of an hour before my valet heard me and opened it. The only reason he was in that part of the house was because he was coming to look for me,” Darcy retorted, his voice conveying his frustration.

“I… I cannot explain what happened, Darcy, or why no servants were on duty in the hall. Perhaps my sister will know,” Bingley said uneasily, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of events. Hoping to steer the conversation back to lighter topics, he added, “Come, let us have breakfast, and afterward we can spend the afternoon playing billiards.”

Darcy, however, remained unswayed. His frown deepened as he fixed Bingley with a penetrating gaze. “Bingley, I cannot feel comfortable staying in a house where the hostess is actively scheming to entrap me into marriage. Your sister has overstepped egregiously. Need I remind you that at the assembly, she boldly hinted at an impending engagement between us to someone she had just met and deliberately sought to create the illusion of intimacy by demanding I dance with her? That alone was improper. But when your servants overheard her shouting that she would do whatever it takes to become the mistress of Pemberley, the matter became far more serious.

“As if that were not enough, my doorknobs were rattled in the night. This suggests an active attempt at some scheme. I cannot and will not remain where my safety—physical or reputational—is at risk. Let me make one thing very clear: even if your sister somehow contrived to enter my room, I would not marry her. I will not be coerced.

“Furthermore,” Darcy said icily, “if I were ever forced into agreeing to a marriage in similiar circumstances, the engagement would be interminable. A wife gained through dishonourable means”—he nearly spat the word—“would be sent to my father’s remote fishing lodge in Scotland, far from society and me. That is, if I even accepted that the marriage was necessary, which is unlikely. Your sister risks far more than she stands to gain—she would be a fool to try it.”

Bingley gaped at his friend, utterly at a loss for words. His mouth opened as if to respond, but no sound came. The weight of Darcy’s declaration hung in the air, and while Bingley had heard Darcy speak so before, he had never heard it so clearly or so coldly as he did in that moment. It finally struck Bingley that his friend truly meant what he was saying. Before Bingley could regain his composure or formulate a reply, a sound from the hallway drew their attention.

“Whatever are you speaking of, Mr. Darcy?”

Both men turned sharply to find Miss Bingley standing in the doorway, her expression carefully composed. Yet, in her eyes, a flicker of alarm betrayed that she had overheard the frigid tone in Darcy’s voice.

Darcy straightened, his expression hardening. “Miss Bingley,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. “I trust you are well this morning?”

She hesitated, then gave a tight smile, having heard most of their conversation before entering. “Quite, thank you. But I could not help overhearing your… concerns as you expressed them to my brother just now. Surely, there has been some misunderstanding.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, I hope that it is simply a misunderstanding. Yet the events of last night, combined with your previous conduct, leave little room for doubt. Howard has already packed my trunks, and I will depart from Netherfield after breakfast. I thank you for your hospitality, Bingley, and if you have questions that your steward or Mr. Philips cannot answer, I will gladly respond by post.”

“You cannot mean to leave so soon, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley purred, her tone meant to be flirtatious but instead grating like a poorly played instrument. The forced sweetness in her voice only deepened Darcy’s irritation. “We are good friends, are we not? Surely, we are all enjoying our intimate little family party,” she added, her smile tight and calculating.

As she spoke, she glided closer, her hand reaching out with the unmistakable intention of taking his arm. Darcy, suppressing a sigh, stepped aside, leaving her grasping at empty air. Her hand hovered awkwardly for a moment before she withdrew it, her expression faltering briefly before she composed herself once more.

“Miss Bingley,” Darcy began, his tone sharp and unyielding, “that is where you are mistaken. While it is your family here, I am not family, nor will I ever be. I am simply present as your brother’s friend to assist him in learning about estate management. I did not come here to pay court to you . In fact, I only agreed to come because your brother assured me you would not be in residence. Had I known, I would not have visited.”

His words struck like a hammer, the bluntness leaving no room for misinterpretation. Miss Bingley’s smile froze, brittle and forced, as he continued, his voice gaining an edge. “There is no engagement forthcoming, regardless of what you might have implied to others. Should you have made these claims to others, then it is your reputation that you have put in jeopardy, not mine, for it is well known amongst the ton that I never would have married you.”

Her carefully constructed facade began to crack, a flicker of indignation flashing in her eyes, but Darcy pressed on, unrelenting.

“Your behaviour at the assembly and again last night was inexcusable,” he said, his frustration breaking through the polished veneer he usually maintained. “Your presumptions and insinuations were not only unwelcome but have become offensive. Miss Bennet, despite her grace, should never have been subjected to the impropriety you have displayed. That you would force her to endure it only compounds my displeasure.”

Miss Bingley’s cheeks coloured, a mixture of embarrassment and anger, but Darcy stood firm, his expression cold and implacable. The room seemed to grow smaller as the weight of his words settled between them, and for a moment, the only sound was the faint rustling of her skirts as she fidgeted, unsure how to recover.

As Miss Bingley parted her lips to protest, the sound of approaching footsteps silenced her. Mrs. Hurst swept into the room, her gaze flitting between them with a blend of curiosity and unease. “What is all this, then?” she demanded, her tone caught between concern and mild irritation.

Darcy stepped further back, his patience clearly waning. “I no longer have an appetite and believe it is time for me to take my leave, Bingley. I will send for my things.”

“Darcy, wait—” Bingley began, but his friend silenced him with a firm shake of his head.

“This situation has become untenable,” Darcy said quietly but firmly. “I value our friendship, but I will not remain under these circumstances.”

With a final, curt bow, Darcy strode past the group and out of the room, leaving behind a tense silence in his wake.

Darcy stalked out of Netherfield, walking directly to the stables where he requested his horse be saddled once again. He sent a stable boy to deliver a message to his valet, informing him of his departure, since Darcy had not taken the time to return to his room. While his departure had been planned, and it was unlikely that Howard needed further warning, Darcy still wanted to give his man the courtesy of informing him.

In just a few minutes, he was on his way, riding slowly as he considered the morning. It was possible he had overreacted somewhat, but Bingley had not informed him that his sisters would be in residence when Darcy agreed to go along to the estate. In fact, he had promised him that they would not be there. It had been a most unpleasant discovery when Miss Bingley and the Hursts had arrived uninvited, and Bingley had made no effort to convince his family to return to London. Darcy had remained, but only because he had, at first, wished to deepen his growing friendship with the master of Longbourn. Once he met that gentleman’s sister, he had been even more reluctant to depart the area.

He had been in Meryton nearly a month, and Miss Bingley had arrived only a few days after he arrived. Since then, she had nearly stalked him, at least within the house, for it seemed the only way he could get a respite from her was either to be within his own rooms or to be out of doors. It was fortunate that Miss Bingley could not manage to adhere to country hours, meaning that he had not had to endure her company before ten in the morning at the earliest.

As Darcy rode through Meryton, he nodded at several acquaintances he had made in the area. When speaking with Bennet at the various events, he had been introduced to several of the local gentlemen, and while he did not say much, he had enjoyed the conversations about different farming methods in this area of the country.

His progress was halted by a shrill voice. “Mr. Darcy,” the voice called.

As he reined in his horse, Darcy turned to see Mrs. Frances Bennet bustling towards him, her bonnet slightly askew and her cheeks flushed with exertion. She waved enthusiastically, a determined smile plastered across her face.

“Mr. Darcy!” she repeated, louder this time, ensuring the entire street could hear. “How fortunate I am to have caught you on your morning ride.”

Darcy inclined his head politely. “Good morning, madam,” he said, his tone measured.

“Oh, Mr. Darcy, what a lovely surprise to see you again! I hope you are finding Meryton agreeable? Such a charming place, is it not? Our hospitality, I trust, has been to your liking?” Her words tumbled out rapidly, and she stepped closer, craning her neck to ensure she held his attention.

Darcy dismounted, realising there was little chance of escaping the encounter without appearing rude. “Indeed, madam,” he replied. “Your town is most welcoming.”

Mrs. Bennet beamed, emboldened by his civility. “You are too kind, sir, far too kind. How very pleasant it was to see you at the dinner party last night. Such a distinguished gentleman you are and so attentive to the company!”

Stiffening, Darcy’s discomfort was barely concealed as Mrs. Bennet’s rapid, unfiltered speech tumbled forth. “I was just on my way to visit Mrs. Long,” she began, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of a passing pedestrian, “but I simply had to speak with you, sir. Why, only this morning, I was telling my sister how remarkable it is to have a handsome and wealthy gentleman in our midst.”

Darcy inclined his head politely, intending to interject, but Mrs. Bennet forged ahead without pause. “We hope you will grace us with your presence again soon. My daughter Jane is so very lovely, is she not? You have not had the opportunity to dance with her yet, have you? Such a pity! You left early last evening, did you not? One moment you were there, and the next, you were gone. I thought I saw you spending time with my stepson and his wife, although I cannot imagine why.”

She leaned closer, her tone conspiratorial. “He is barely a gentleman and far too willing to dirty his hands with manual work—not at all befitting the master of Longbourn. And Charlotte Lucas! I shall never understand why he married her. Such an artful little schemer. No doubt it was all the time he spent in London with my brother that influenced him so poorly.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond, but Mrs. Bennet gave him no opportunity. “Did you know, after leaving Cambridge, rather than returning home as any dutiful son should, he went off to London to work with my brother? Oh, it was perfectly fine for my brother to go into trade—he had no estate to inherit, after all—but my stepson? A gentleman’s son, reduced to working in trade! It was no doubt the mortification of it that caused my dear husband’s untimely demise. We are not on friendly terms now. I do not believe he ever accepted my marriage to his father. It seems of little matter now, but he has treated me shamefully.”

Mrs. Bennet sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest, as though the memory still weighed heavily upon her. Darcy seized the brief silence to respond, his voice cool and measured. “I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Bennet. While I must commend your stepson for his industry, I regret that I must take my leave. Good day, madam.”

He bowed slightly, mounted his horse with practiced ease, and urged the animal forward before Mrs. Bennet could launch into another tirade. As he rode away, he heard her calling after him, her voice carrying down the street. “Do come to call, Mr. Darcy! Jane would be delighted to see you!”

Darcy merely shook his head as he rode away, shocked that the matron he had barely been introduced to would have accosted him in the middle of town. The more he thought about it, however, the less surprise he felt, considering what Bennet had said about the lady. It was likely that she had seen how much time Darcy had spent in her stepchildren’s company and wished to redirect his attention towards her own daughter.

Jane Pattison “Bennet” was a lovely girl. Yet, like so many other lovely girls he had met in London, she was uninteresting—insipid even. Darcy had spoken with her briefly at the assembly shortly after he arrived, but the conversation had lacked any of the spark that he felt when conversing with Miss Elizabeth. He had not troubled himself to speak to her again though his host spent far more time with her.

Before his thoughts could go any further down that trail, he was stopped yet again by Sir William Lucas. “Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” he called. Darcy nodded, but upon seeing the gentleman approach and appear to be waiting for him to dismount, he reluctantly did so.

“Mr. Darcy, my daughter and her family left the gathering early last night, and I noticed that you accompanied them,” Sir William began. Darcy nodded, uncertain how he was meant to respond. Sir William, however, needed no other response. “I was standing behind your host and his sister when you departed. She was upset at your speaking to Miss Eliza—a kinder or lovelier lady has rarely existed—and was most determined to, um, force you to pay her attention instead.”

“I am aware of her intentions, Sir William,” Darcy said. “It is good of you to warn me, but there is no need to be concerned.”

Sir William nodded, saying, “Good, good,” but did not elaborate further. When Darcy would have mounted his horse again and departed, Sir William held out his hand to stop him. “I would also have you be on your guard against another,” he began, hesitating once again.

Darcy turned back towards Sir William. “What do you mean?” he said warily.

“Mrs. Bennet is not done with you,” he said quietly, indicating towards where the lady had accosted him a few minutes ago. “She heard Miss Bingley speak of your wealth and your estate and has decided that Mr. Bingley is the lesser prize. Poor Jane is too sweet to stand up to her mother, and my wife heard Mrs. Bennet whispering furiously that Jane needed to keep Mr. Bingley on the hook while going after you. That you paid attention to Miss Eliza only served to strengthen Mrs. Bennet’s resolve to ‘steal you away from that hoyden.’ Mrs. Bennet does not think well of the children from her husband’s first marriage.”

“She will not have the opportunity to do anything more than bluster. Last night, I discovered my host was less of a friend than I once believed, and I plan to accept the Bennets’ hospitality before returning to London,” Darcy informed the genial man. Normally, he would not share so much with a relative stranger, but knowing the man was the father of his soon-to-be hostess, he expected the information would soon come to light.

“Capital,” Sir William cried. “My daughter is an excellent hostess, and the Bennet girls still residing in that house are positively delightful. While you are there, you must take the opportunity to meet Mrs. Eleanor Bennet, the late Mr. Bennet’s mother. She rarely leaves her cottage these days, but the rest of the Bennet ladies visit her often enough. You will quickly see where Miss Eliza’s spiritedness came from, for I believe she learned everything from her grandmother. Mrs. Eleanor has the advantage of being old enough to state her thoughts without caring what anyone thinks. My Charlotte fits in well with the outspoken ladies at that estate, and I could not have been happier when she married the present master.”

Darcy laughed. “The elder Mrs. Bennet would likely get along well with my great-aunt on my father’s side. She chose to live in the dower house on my estate, after her son married and her husband died, because she could not stand the woman her son married. Her grandchildren, along with her nieces and nephews, visit her often, but she says exactly what she thinks and could not care less what anyone thinks of it. Fortunately, I have thus far remained on her good side.”

Both gentlemen laughed. “I hope that I will encounter you again, sir, before you leave our area. Charlotte had mentioned the possibility of having her mother and me for dinner soon, so perhaps we will see you then. Regardless, I have enjoyed meeting you, albeit briefly,” Sir William spent a moment looking at the gentleman to evaluate him. “Although, I suppose there is a chance you will return at some point, if what I noticed last night at the party bears fruit.”

Darcy stiffened automatically. “There is always a chance I will return in the future. Mr. Bennet and I have much in common.”

Sir William smiled slyly. “Including an…admiration, shall we say…for one of his sisters,” he remarked before nodding at the befuddled gentleman and stepping away.