B00CO8L910 EBOK (6 page)

When she began to pull away from him, she found, much to her increasing embarrassment, that the chain of her garnet cross necklace was caught on one of the buttons of his tailcoat. With growing exasperation and need for escape, she tugged fiercely at the offending jewelry, the process made more graceless by the shortness of the chain.

“Miss Bennet, if you please. I rather like this jacket. Allow me.” He chuckled when she obliged him, her hands clenched into fists at her side. He took his time as he unclasped the chain around her neck, relishing the feel of her soft skin. “There, you are free.”

Elizabeth backed away immediately and sat heavily in the nearest chair, her mind reeling from the disastrous morning!
First, I stumble upon Mr. Darcy’s study and then attach myself bodily to his person.
A more horrifying morning she could not imagine.

While Mr. Darcy worked to release her necklace chain from the button on his coat, he spied through his lashes a stunned Elizabeth. He worried suddenly for her mental strength after the past few days, combined with the extreme embarrassment he knew she must feel.

Her shoulders began to shake, and he thought she was sobbing.
Oh no! Anything but your tears, my love!
When he kneeled beside her, he heard a noise from her mouth and then another. He watched in amazement as she fell into hysterics, holding her arms across her middle with tears streaming down her face.

In her amusement, she turned to him, dazzling him with her unaffected beauty. “What a disaster today has been! I should have taken your suggestion from yesterday and never left my chambers!”

He was laughing now, too, as he joined her on the seat. Together they shared a few moments in companionable mirth. When their laughter stilled, Mr. Darcy handed Elizabeth his handkerchief to dry the tears.

She took it with a smile. “I am collecting quite a pile of these, Mr. Darcy.”

He laughed once again. “There are plenty more should you have need of them.”

Elizabeth knew at that moment that he was not just speaking of handkerchiefs but of his willingness to provide any comfort she might need. He leaned towards her and deftly secured the clasp on her necklace around her neck. She blushed and whispered a quiet “thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he whispered back.

It really was unfortunate, she thought, that he was capable of behaving so despicably with regard to Jane and Mr. Wickham as she began to comprehend that he was exactly the man who in disposition and talents would most suit her. She sobered, remembering his past offenses. However, she could not forget his kindness and thus spoke sincerely. “Thank you for allowing us to stay here and for accompanying us home tomorrow. It is far more than you need do.”

“Again, my pleasure, Eliz— Miss Bennet.”

Wishing his misdeeds were untrue, she said, “And thank you for the laugh. I think I needed it more than anything else.”

“I cannot take credit for that, Miss Bennet. You provided all the folly.”

“Indeed, it seems I did.”

They sat companionably in silence before she stood and smoothed her skirts. “I believe I shall return to my rooms now, Mr. Darcy. It seems venturing out this morning has been rife with unparalleled dangers to my dignity. Before it is completely destroyed, I fear it is best I retire.”

“Though I am sorry to hear about the demise of your dignity, I cannot repent the pleasures I experienced at its expense. Good day, Miss Bennet. It has been a pleasure.” He took her hand and kissed it.

“Good day, Mr. Darcy.” Making an obvious effort to step over the edge of the rug, she walked out of the room, leaving a smiling, contented master of the house.

Chapter 4

Mr. Darcy stood in front of the chair Elizabeth had occupied just a few hours before. A smile pulled at the edges of his mouth as he remembered the delightful picture she presented sitting there. Her small frame looked engulfed in the large, leather chair, and yet it seemed also to fit her just right. He lowered himself into the chair. It was cool, the heat from her body long gone. He looked at his estate books in the center of the desk where she left them, the book on top still open. Closing the book, he traced the outline of the binding just as her fingers had.

Shaking his head, he laughed at himself for behaving the besotted fool.

A knock at the door interrupted Darcy’s pleasant ruminations, and he hoped that perhaps she had returned. Standing eagerly, he bid the visitor enter.

The door opened to his butler who stepped to the side to reveal another gentleman. “Mr. Bingley to see you, sir.”

Mr. Darcy tried to hide his disappointment but was not quick enough before his friend caught his falling countenance. “I say, Darcy, thank you for the warm welcome,” he said with good humor.

“You will excuse me, Bingley. I had not expected you. You are, of course, welcome.”

”Yes I can see that!” Bingley laughed. “It seems you were anticipating someone vastly more appealing.”

Mr. Darcy shifted uncomfortably before offering his guest a seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Bingley?”

Bingley took the seat across from him, causing Darcy to smile at the memory of having occupied that seat himself earlier. He quickly pushed the thought away.

“Have you forgotten? We had plans today to go to White’s.”

“Of course!” He had forgotten. Before leaving for Kent, he had arranged to go to his club with Bingley the day after his return. That was today. “I suppose I did forget.”

“That is not like you,” Bingley observed. “How was Kent?”

Darcy was grateful for the change of topic and answered without forethought. “It was pleasant enough. My aunt was, as always, a bit tiresome. Her new parson — you remember we met in Hertfordshire — is lately married to one of our acquaintances from that neighborhood.”

Darcy, having thought he was simply relaying news of no consequence, realized his mistake when he saw his friend’s countenance fall. The two of them sat in an uncomfortable silence. Bingley had not been quite himself since leaving Netherfield. Until that moment, Darcy had refused to believe that Bingley might still feel the loss of a certain lady there. It occurred to him that perhaps he had done a great disservice to his friend.

Bingley swallowed his rush of emotion at the mention of Hertfordshire. It was a topic that Darcy had studiously avoided and had not brought up in some months. His last words finally registered in Bingley’s mind: ‘
lately married . . . our acquaintance . . . Hertfordshire.
’ Bingley looked up at his friend with anxious eyes.

“Is that so?” asked his friend with a barely discernible shake to his voice. “And this acquaintance from Hertfordshire would be . . . ?”

Darcy heard the controlled panic and quickly spoke to relieve his friend. “Yes, I believe you will remember her as Miss Charlotte Lucas.”

Bingley drew in a deep breath, collapsing into his chair. Recovering himself, he affected an air of languor he did not feel.

“I am glad to hear it. And did you find her well?”

Guilt crept into Darcy’s heart as he saw the transformation in his friend at the reference to Hertfordshire and the clarification on the maiden identity of Mrs. Collins. He imagined what he might feel had he come to the parsonage and found Elizabeth married to the man. Suddenly, he felt sick at the mere thought of Elizabeth with such an odious man — any man! He felt all the weight of his presumptuous dealings. He needed to think in peace without the miserable countenance of his friend before him.

“I did find her well.” He stood, indicating the end of their visit. “Bingley, I am sorry to have forgotten our engagement, but I am afraid I must beg off. I have some matters to attend.” He knew it was boorish of him to cancel their plans, but Darcy could not bear the guilt as he looked at him.
What might be done to make amends?

If his friend noticed his poor manners, he made no indication and simply rose from the chair blankly. As Darcy accompanied Bingley to the door, Colonel Fitzwilliam walked in. Darcy groaned to himself as he had forgotten that his cousin had stayed the night. He prayed he would not mention the current presence of Miss Bennet or Miss Lucas.

“Darcy! Oh, hullo, Bingley. I left early this morning to visit my mother and so have not seen Miss Bennet or Miss Lucas. How do they fare this morning?”

Darcy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.
Damn you, Fitzwilliam!
He opened his eyes and glanced at Bingley who looked at him oddly before becoming red in the face.

“Uhh . . . yes, Miss Lucas I believe has not left her chambers but . . . ” Darcy stammered and cleared his throat as he awkwardly continued, “Miss Bennet was down earlier to select a book from the library and looked much improved.”

Bingley spoke through clenched teeth. “Miss Bennet is here?”

The colonel spoke before Darcy could. “Yes, she and Miss Maria Lucas were in Kent. We accompanied them to town. Sad business, the whole lot,” he said, shaking his head.

Bingley turned to his friend. “Is that so?”

Darcy had never seen Bingley livid before. He quickly asserted, “Miss
Elizabeth
Bennet and Miss Lucas arrived with us last night and will be leaving tomorrow for Longbourn. I am to accompany them again . . . ” His voice drifted off.

“I see.”

Darcy groaned as he turned to his cousin and asked, “Richard, would you please excuse us? I find I have some business with Bingley.”

The colonel, assessing the brewing tempers and determining he wanted no part of what was about to transpire, acquiesced.

As soon as the door closed, Bingley rounded on his friend, seething. “Pardon my impertinence, Darcy, but were you going to tell me that Miss Bennet was a guest in your home?”

Darcy ran his hands through his hair. “Bingley, will you not have a seat? I can explain.”

“I thank you, no! What have you to explain,
friend
?” he spat. “I can see you wished to keep her visit a secret. I suppose you thought I ought not to see her; perhaps seeing
her
would make me think of Jane, right? Blast and damn you, Darcy! I think I can manage seeing the sister!”

Darcy declared, “It is not what you think,” although he knew it was exactly as Bingley thought. The small falsehood tasted bitter in his mouth and reminded him of the other deception: he had hidden Miss Jane Bennet’s presence in town from Bingley the past few months. He hated deceit of any kind.
Have I always been so conceited?
He groaned at his own hypocrisy.

Bingley laughed sardonically. “You think I am so weak as to need further protection? I have resigned myself to the fact that she does not love me. You can at least give me the honor of trusting me with her relations.”

Darcy lost all composure then and bellowed, “For God’s sake, Bingley! She is here because her sister died! She received the news in Kent, and I transported her here yesterday. She was barely well enough to leave her room this morning — so stricken with grief.” He regretted his brashness immediately as Bingley stuttered incoherently and stumbled backwards onto the sofa. His face went white and he murmured, “Her sister died . . . ”

Darcy was horrified when he realized Bingley’s misunderstanding. Recovering himself, he quickly clarified. “Bingley! Miss Lydia was the sister who died.” His voice was slow, deliberate and clear.

Bingley felt numb to a world where Jane Bennet did not exist and did not hear his friend. He loved her still, and he had subsisted these many months with the knowledge that, even though she did not return his love, at least she was alive and well. He could wish her well. But now she was gone. He felt broken all over again. How was he to live through it?
Oh, Jane!

Darcy sat next to his friend and placed his hands on his shoulders, shaking him from his daze. Bingley had obviously not heard his last words. He shook him roughly until he made eye contact. “Bingley, it was Miss Lydia,
not
Miss Bennet!”

Slowly, recognition returned. Bingley whispered, “Not Jane.” He sat up and turned to his friend, repeating louder, “Not Jane!” before falling back onto the seat. He rubbed his face vigorously and began in his relief to laugh, though it sounded closer to sobs.

Darcy, too, sat back on the sofa next to his friend. As Bingley’s expressed relief buoyed his own spirits, Darcy’s guilt intensified.

Coming to his senses, Bingley realized his joy and relief were inappropriate given that one sister had died. He was then acutely aware that
his
Jane and Miss Elizabeth must have surely been suffering from the loss of their sister. He turned to his friend and said, “I must pay my condolences to Miss Elizabeth!”

Darcy panicked. Until he could ascertain Miss Bennet’s affections, he still did not think it was a good idea to press the acquaintance. Having seen his friend struggle through heartbreak, panic, anger and dread in one afternoon, he knew this was the right course. “I am afraid that is not possible, Bingley. She is resting now, and we depart tomorrow morning for Hertfordshire. Perhaps, you might write the Bennet family a note, and I will deliver it for you.” It was the least he could allow under the circumstances.