Page 51 of The Briar Bargain (The Rom Com Collection #3)
Bingley's cheeks coloured slightly. "I am afraid I lost my temper. I told her that she was deluding herself, that you were not interested in her opinions, never had been, and that your affections were otherwise engaged."
"Bingley—"
"I did not say to whom," Bingley added hastily. "Though she asked. Repeatedly. I simply made it clear that she was labouring under a misapprehension regarding your sentiments towards her."
Darcy drew a slow breath, considering the implications. "I would have preferred my name remain out of it altogether," he said finally.
"Yes, I do not doubt that. But she needed to hear it, Darcy," Bingley leaned forward, his expression earnest. "She has been telling herself this story for months, and it has been poisoning everything around her. Better to make a clean cut than to let the wound fester."
It was a fair point, though Darcy could not entirely suppress his unease.
Miss Bingley was not a woman to simply accept disappointment.
He had entered into her disparaging of Miss Elizabeth after the assembly in October.
It had not lasted more than a fortnight, and yet she would think herself ill-used now that he had changed course.
If only he had kept his cruel, witty remarks to himself, perhaps Miss Bingley would not have conjured an interest where none existed. "What will she do in the north?"
"Attempt to return to London, I expect. She has friends there.
" Bingley placed a queen, and Darcy automatically paid the two-card penalty.
"But she will not find refuge with Hurst—he has made that abundantly clear, as you know.
And she will not be invited to Netherfield, nor will she be allowed to reside with us in London.
I will not subject Jane to that particular trial. "
The protectiveness in Bingley's voice when he spoke his beloved's name was unmistakable, and Darcy felt a stab of something that might have been envy .
"When will you speak to Mr. Bennet?"
"Tomorrow morning, if the weather permits and the bridge is deemed sound, I will accompany Jane and her sister home." Bingley's smile was soft with anticipation. "I do not expect any difficulty. Miss Bennet is of age, and her father seems unlikely to hinder his daughters' happiness."
They played on for a time, the only sounds the soft slap of cards upon wood and the occasional crack of burning wood from the fire, until the door opened and Hurst entered bearing a tray with three glasses and a bottle of champagne.
From Darcy's own contribution to Bingley's cellar, if he was not mistaken.
"My wife has decreed that a toast is in order," Hurst announced without preamble. "Something about celebrating happy news and ensuring that I do my duty as brother-in-law."
"Your wife is very thorough in her social obligations," Darcy agreed. "Though perhaps she meant at dinner, where the women might also partake?"
"She must have meant both." Hurst set down the tray and began working at the cork.
"I have not yet spoken to Mr. Bennet," Bingley said, though he did not complain.
"A mere formality." The cork emerged with a satisfying pop, and Hurst filled the glasses.
"What father would refuse the master of Netherfield? You have four thousand a year and all your own teeth."
"An unassailable case," Darcy replied. "Very romantic."
"Romance is for poets and ladies." Hurst handed them each a glass and raised his own. “To the groom-to-be, and to anyone else with the wisdom to follow his example. "
The look he directed at Darcy was anything but subtle.
Darcy chose to ignore it in favour of raising his glass. "To happiness honestly earned."
"To peaceful households and obliging in-laws," Bingley added with a grin.
Darcy drank, the champagne bright and clean on his tongue.
They returned to their cards, though now with an audience of one who offered unsolicited commentary on their play and increasingly elaborate theories about the proper autumnal foods that ought to grace the wedding's breakfast table.
The champagne lightened his spirits, until Darcy found himself laughing at Hurst's more outrageous suggestions.
"King," Bingley announced, placing the king of hearts upon the pile with a flourish.
Darcy dutifully counted out his three penalty cards. Then Bingley turned over an ace.
"Four more," he said with satisfaction. "That puts you out, Darcy."
“Well done, Bingley.”
Darcy pushed the cards aside while Bingley gathered in his winnings with boyish pleasure. The easy laughter between them lingered for a moment before the reminder of what lay ahead sobered them both slightly.
Tomorrow would most likely bring the completion of the bridge, the departure of the Bennet ladies, and either triumph or disappointment for Bingley's hopes, though Darcy thought his friend had no reason for concern on that score. For himself . . . well, that remained to be seen.
The memory of his conduct at the assembly in October still stung his conscience.
She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me .
The words seemed to echo in his mind, as cutting now as they had been careless then.
Worse still were the other thoughtless remarks he had made in the fortnight that followed, when he had been fighting his growing attraction to her with every weapon his pride could provide.
Idiot.
He would speak with Miss Elizabeth on their walk tomorrow.
Whatever the result, he would meet it as bravely as he knew how.
The rest lay in the hands of providence, and perhaps in the generous heart of a certain young lady whose good opinion he valued above all others.
The clock struck the hour, and Darcy finally rose from his chair.
But before he could take more than a few steps, the door opened to admit a flustered footman whose livery bore unmistakable signs of mud and water. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Bingley, sir, but Mr. Linton sends his compliments and asks that you come at once. There's been an incident at the bridge."
Bingley was on his feet immediately. "An incident? Is anyone hurt?"
"Not seriously hurt, sir, but . . ." The young man glanced uncertainly between the three gentlemen. "It's Susan, sir. The under-housemaid. Mr. Linton and his men pulled her from the water not twenty minutes past."
Darcy felt his blood chill as the memory of the river flashed in his mind. "She attempted to cross?"
"Aye, sir. Right through the section they were planning to repair come morning, the last bit that needed fixing. Went straight through the planking. They heard the splash and fished her out quick enough, but she's in a right state, sir. Wet through and shaking something fierce."
"But why would she attempt such a thing?" Bingley demanded. "She knows the bridge is not yet safe."
The footman's discomfort grew visibly. "That's just it, sir. When they pulled her out and asked why she was in such a hurry, they found . . . well, they found something on her person that don't belong to her. "
The silence that followed this revelation was profound. Darcy exchanged a meaningful glance with Bingley, while Hurst muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath.
"What did she have?" Darcy inquired, his voice carefully controlled.
"Mr. Linton didn't say precisely, sir, only that they knew it weren't hers. He's got her in the servants' hall now, wrapped in blankets and waiting for Mr. Bingley's instructions."
Bingley ran a hand through his hair, his earlier good humour entirely dissipated. "Very well, tell Mr. Linton I shall be down directly." As the footman bowed and departed, Bingley turned to his companions. "This is all I needed on the eve of my engagement."
"It may be nothing more than a misunderstanding," Darcy offered, though he did not really believe it.
"A misunderstanding that drove her to risk her neck on a broken bridge?" Hurst shook his head. "More likely she has been helping herself to whatever caught her fancy and feared discovery."
Bingley's expression grew grim. "Indeed. Well, there is nothing for it. I must deal with this. Will you come with me, Darcy? I suspect I may have need of a clear head."
"Of course." Darcy set down his glass with finality.
The peaceful interlude was thoroughly shattered, replaced by the unpleasant prospect of examining a servant's misdeeds.
He thought briefly of Miss Elizabeth, probably dressing for dinner with no knowledge of the drama unfolding below stairs, and felt a sharp regret for the innocent contentment of mere moments before.
As they walked to the servants' quarters, Darcy reflected that trouble, like rain, rarely came singly. Whatever they discovered about Susan's actions, he suspected it would prove only the beginning of a most uncomfortable evening.