Page 39 of The Briar Bargain (The Rom Com Collection #3)

D arcy found himself in the peculiar position of studying the autumn landscape from his chamber window while his thoughts remained entirely occupied with the woman who would form part of the party for their proposed walk.

Hurst's revelations last evening had left him with an uneasiness he could not quite define.

News of Miss Bingley's increasingly desperate manoeuvres were troubling enough, but it was Miss Elizabeth's reaction to them that concerned him most, for he had seen the way she carried herself in the parlour earlier, the careful awareness of a woman braced for battle.

The sound of voices below drew his attention, and he looked down to see Miss Elizabeth emerging from the house with Miss Bennet.

Even from this distance, he could observe the easy confidence of her movements, the animated gestures as she spoke to her sister.

She was wearing the walking dress in which she had arrived at Netherfield, a deep blue that complemented her colouring admirably, and her bonnet was tied with a yellow ribbon that caught the morning light .

But it was not her appearance that held his attention; it was the way she paused, her head tilted as though listening for something, her expression alert in a manner that spoke of continued vigilance.

"Harrison," he called, not turning from the window.

His valet appeared with his customary efficiency. "Sir?"

"Has there been any unusual activity in the house this morning? Any consultations between Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst that might have attracted notice?"

Harrison's expression remained professionally neutral, though Darcy caught the slight tightening around his eyes that suggested interesting intelligence.

"I am told, sir, that Miss Bingley was in earnest conference with her chambermaid very early this morning.

The woman appeared distressed by whatever instructions she received. "

"Distressed how?"

"She was heard to say that she would not be party to any mischief, sir."

Darcy turned from the window, his attention now fully engaged. "Did Mrs. Nicholls intervene?"

"Indeed, sir. I did not witness this myself, you understand.”

Darcy nodded.

“The word among the servants is that Miss Bingley requested that Susan rearrange certain items in Miss Elizabeth's chamber.

When the girl refused, Miss Bingley became rather insistent.

Mrs. Nicholls made it clear to all the maids that such requests were never to be entertained, no matter who made them. "

The cold anger in Darcy's chest intensified. "What manner of rearrangement?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled.

"The girl was not specific, sir, but she appeared quite relieved when Mrs. Nicholls refused to permit it." Harrison paused, then added carefully, "I believe young Susan fears for her position. "

Darcy absorbed this information with growing alarm. He recalled Hurst’s belief that Miss Bingley would learn from her failures and attempt to improve her methods, and he thought perhaps she meant to hide something truly disgraceful in Miss Elizabeth’s chambers rather than in her sewing basket.

The servants' loyalty was clearly divided, not through any fault of their own, but because they found themselves caught between the mistress of the house and a respected guest. It was an untenable situation.

"Harrison, I want you to speak privately with Mrs. Nicholls. Ensure that she understands Miss Elizabeth and her sister are to be considered friends of the Darcy family."

"Of course, sir." Harrison hesitated, then added, "If I may say so, sir, Mrs. Nicholls already holds Miss Elizabeth in the highest regard, as do all of the servants with whom I have spoken. I do not believe any of them would willingly participate in schemes against her."

This intelligence provided some relief, though not enough to ease Darcy's concerns entirely. “Even so.”

After Harrison departed, Darcy remained at the window.

Miss Bingley's latest attempt had failed due to Mrs. Nicholls's intervention, but if she was desperate enough to involve Elizabeth's private chambers, she would not simply abandon her efforts.

She would find another approach, perhaps one that did not require the cooperation of the servants.

The sound of laughter drifted up from the garden, and he saw the Bennet ladies had been joined by Bingley. His friend's animated gestures and beaming countenance, along with his marked attentions to Miss Bennet, left little doubt about his intentions.

The thought brought with it a pang of something uncomfortably like envy.

Not for Bingley's attachment to Miss Bennet, for that was a happiness Darcy wished his friend most sincerely.

No, it was for the simplicity of Bingley's situation.

His feelings were returned, his social position secure, his family circumstances uncomplicated by considerations of fortune and connexion.

Darcy's own position was infinitely more complex.

Even setting aside his family's expectations and the disparity in circumstances between himself and Miss Elizabeth, there was still his uncertainty about her feelings for him.

She had accepted his friendship, even seemed to welcome his protection, but friendship was a far cry from the deeper attachment he hoped for.

And now, with Miss Bingley's machinations threatening to create discord or even scandal, the delicate progress they had made seemed increasingly fragile.

A knock at his door interrupted these reflections. "Enter," he called.

The knock proved to be Harrison, returning with his usual quiet discretion.

"Mrs. Nicholls has been advised as you requested, sir," he said, bowing. "She expressed her appreciation for the clarity and assured me she would brook no tampering of any sort with the Miss Bennets’ chambers. I believe you may count upon her."

"Very good," Darcy said. "And the maid in question?"

"She has been quietly reassigned for the morning. Mrs. Nicholls thought it prudent."

Darcy inclined his head. Such swift action spoke well of the housekeeper's judgement. "I agree. What of Miss Bingley’s personal maid?”

Harrison frowned. “Mrs. Nicholls will not have any authority over her."

“But she has been living with the Hursts, so Mrs. Hurst might. I will speak with Hurst.”

Harrison said nothing but he appeared sceptical. “Mrs. Hurst?”

“She is very lately reconciled to her husband. We shall put that to the test.” He retrieved his hat and gloves and made his way down the grand staircase with deliberate calm, even as his mind churned with possibilities.

Whatever Miss Bingley planned next, he was determined she would not succeed.

Too much depended upon maintaining the harmony of the current party, not least Elizabeth's peace of mind.

Outside, the day had grown into full brilliance, sunlight gleamed upon the wet gravel and shimmered through the thinning gold of the oaks.

The breeze was sharp but invigorating, carrying with it the scent of woodsmoke and fallen leaves that spoke of autumn's inexorable progress towards winter.

As he stepped into the garden, he caught sight of the walking party ahead.

Miss Bennet and Bingley were already paired off, their heads tilted together as they conversed.

Even from a distance, Darcy saw the careful attention Bingley paid to his companion's comfort, adjusting his pace to match hers, offering his arm when the path grew uneven, gesturing to points of interest. Mrs. Hurst, for once without her usual languor, walked beside her husband, her smile uncertain but genuine as he pointed out a grove of trees that had turned a most vivid shade of crimson.

Miss Bingley, somewhat apart from the rest, hovered near the path with a lace shawl held dramatically about her shoulders, as though to suggest fragility.

Her positioning was clearly calculated to draw attention, for she was close enough to the group to appear included, yet sufficiently isolated to invite rescue or sympathy.

Darcy witnessed her performance with growing distaste, noting how her gaze moved constantly between the other members of the party, seeking some advantage or opportunity.

And then there was Miss Elizabeth. He walked up to join her.

They began to walk slowly, falling into step with the easy synchronicity that had become more common between them of late.

Darcy found himself acutely aware of her presence beside him, the measured cadence of her breathing, the way she automatically lengthened her pace to match his longer stride even while he shortened his to match hers.

This simple harmony, this evidence of their growing comfort with one another, was deeply satisfying.

"I could not help but notice," she said after a moment, "that your gaze lingered on the house as you emerged. I do not suppose you are contemplating the angle of the sun or the state of the shutters?"

Her perception continued to astonish him. That she had correctly judged his preoccupation from such a distance spoke to an awareness that was both flattering and slightly unnerving. "I was reflecting," he said carefully, "upon the state of affairs within."

She looked at him sidelong, her dark eyes bright with curiosity. "And what conclusions have you reached, if any?"

"That vigilance is, for the time being, our best course."

Her mouth quirked in what might have been amusement or approval. "I had thought it might be, Mr. Darcy."

Ahead, Bingley and Miss Bennet paused at the turn in the path. Miss Bennet paused at a cluster of Michaelmas daisies growing wild along the hedge, their purple petals brilliant in the cold sun. Bingley bent to gather a few for her.

Miss Bennet's cheeks coloured prettily as she accepted the impromptu bouquet and Bingley's face fairly glowed with pleasure at her evident delight. Their happiness was so apparent, so uncomplicated, that it seemed to cast its own golden light upon the morning.

"They make a handsome picture," Miss Elizabeth said softly, following his gaze.

"Indeed. Your sister appears content."

"She is. I have not seen her so animated since . . ." Miss Elizabeth paused, as though catching herself. “Forgive me. ”

“There is no need,” Darcy said quietly. “But if you wish to speak of it, I can assure you of my discretion.”

Miss Elizabeth was silent for several paces, but then she spoke.

“Two years ago, Jane was being visited by a young clergyman of modest fortune but excellent character. Unfortunately, my mother seized upon his visits with her characteristic lack of subtlety. Upon learning of his circumstances, a living worth five hundred pounds per year with prospects of eventual advancement, she pronounced him ‘not eligible enough for dear Jane’ and attempted to steer him to Mary instead. Mary was only just sixteen, and I believe she was as mortified as Jane.”

“And the young clergyman?”

“He was so appalled that he ceased his visits entirely within the fortnight. Jane was not yet attached to him, but she did like him, and it hurt her when he departed. She has not really trusted herself or another suitor until now. Your friend suits her admirably, Mr. Darcy.”

They walked on, drawing gradually closer to the rest of the party. As they approached, Darcy became aware of voices raised in what appeared to be some sort of discussion or perhaps disagreement.

"—perfectly safe, I am sure," Mrs. Hurst was saying, though her tone suggested anything but certainty.

"But the path is so uneven," Miss Bingley protested. "I fear I have developed the most dreadful headache, and the footing here is so unsure . . ."

"Perhaps you should return to the house," Bingley suggested with his usual good nature. "We should not wish you to overexert yourself."

"Oh, but I could not bear to spoil everyone's enjoyment," Miss Bingley replied, her voice taking on a martyred quality that made Darcy's jaw tighten. "If only someone might assist me, steady me should I falter . . ."

Her gaze moved meaningfully to Darcy, who had the distinct impression that this entire scene had been staged for his benefit .

It was Elizabeth who responded, her voice warm with apparent concern. "Miss Bingley, how distressing for you. Perhaps you might take my arm? I am very sure-footed."

Miss Bingley’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, Miss Eliza, there is something almost caprine in your step.”

Darcy almost laughed. “You left the door open for that one,” he murmured to Miss Elizabeth, and she chuckled.

“I shall take it as a compliment, Miss Bingley. Goats are, after all, both nimble and difficult to unseat.”

Darcy had been prepared to intervene, but evidently there was no need. Miss Bingley's eyes darted between him and Elizabeth, clearly waiting for him to offer.

He did not.

With no graceful way to retreat, she was forced to accept Miss Elizabeth’s arm with as much dignity as she could muster.

"Thank you," she said stiffly. And, as Darcy anticipated, within a few minutes of walking with Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bingley excused herself and made her way back to the house on her own, her posture rigid with thwarted ambition.

Miss Elizabeth had handled the situation with skill, deftly extricating him from the unwelcome prospect of Miss Bingley's prolonged attentions.

He had come downstairs with the intention of protecting her, yet it appeared the protection had proven mutual, a circumstance that pleased him a great deal.

"Shall we continue?" Miss Elizabeth asked pleasantly, as though nothing of significance had occurred.

Darcy offered her his arm, noting the slight smile that played about her lips. "Indeed. And Miss Elizabeth?"

"Yes? "

"Masterfully done."

Her smile deepened.

As they continued along the path, Miss Bingley now safely out of sight and the morning stretching bright before them, Darcy allowed himself to believe that whatever schemes awaited them, they would prove no match for the alliance he and Miss Elizabeth had forged.

And perhaps, if he were very careful and very fortunate, that alliance might in time become something even more precious.