Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

D arcy felt a good deal of guilt as he climbed into his carriage behind Bingley. Another carriage, Bingley’s vehicle—containing both of his sisters and several trunks—was already on its way to London.

He had not lied to Elizabeth; John Stevens really had predicted torrential rain, and it truly was best to get on the road. Mr Bennet had agreed to speak to Mr Palmer about performing the ceremony on Thursday, and everything would be arranged nicely for an expeditious wedding—probably all the sooner because of his early departure.

Still, a pang of guilt reminded him, he had not been entirely honest with his soon-to-be bride.

He hated doing it; neither, however, could he justify hurting Elizabeth’s feelings with his own.

In the conversations he had managed with her, he could see how much she adored her elder sister; and truly, Miss Bennet was an admirable young lady. Nonetheless, she was not a lady in love. With the evidence of her lack of feeling, combined with her lack of fortune and family, well, it made sense to remove Bingley from the situation as delicately as possible.

I have been kinder to myself than to Bingley , he thought, watching his friend’s morose expression with an ever-increasing sense of culpability. Yet, I am wealthier and more established in society. I can afford the step of taking an indigent bride, whilst he has not yet even gained full acceptance amongst the ton .

The discord had begun shortly after the Bennet sisters departed, when Darcy had strongly suggested Bingley go with him to town to meet with his solicitor.

“I shall leave for town on Friday morning,” Bingley had said. “I intend to go to the Philipses’ party before I leave.”

Usually, Bingley was easily persuaded in a different direction, but business could not compete with his objective of spending an evening near Miss Bennet.

It had become necessary to convince him that his hopes in her direction were futile. “Of course she would marry you, should you propose,” Darcy had explained. “She would have no other option but to do so, in her family circumstance. You remove all her choices by pressing your suit.”

“She is not unwilling, Darcy. I can see it.”

“It is her mother who is the willing one, Charles.” Miss Bingley had joined the critique.

“Dear Miss Bennet is a treasure, an absolute treasure—but believe me, Charles, she is no more interested in you than in Mr Goulding or Mr Harrington,” Mrs Hurst had added.

Thankfully, the colonel was not present for the conversation— else he certainly would have added his own disparagements, and likely raised Bingley’s ire in so doing. Thereafter, Darcy had not been required to say much of anything, except to agree with Bingley’s sisters—who took up the cause with a vengeance. They knew their brother well and were careful not to find fault with his beloved, merely emphasising her disinterest.

In the face of so much opposition to his own opinions, the modest Bingley was soon speaking of not only going to town with Darcy, but of closing Netherfield completely. This idea did not suit Darcy at all for his own plans—at least, not yet. Fortunately, his cousin’s arrival provided the excuse he needed to keep it open.

“Once I have completed my business in town, I shall return to Netherfield and spend a few days with my cousin,” Darcy assured, grateful his cousin had agreed to remain. “Once the colonel is well rested, we can talk of closing the house—perhaps next month.”

It was a deceit, plain and simple. He had deceived Bingley regarding his reasons for keeping the house open. In a lesser manner, he deceived his affianced bride and her family regarding the Bingleys’ intentions, pretending Bingley was briefly going to town on business.

It did not sit well with his conscience.

Bingley usually chattered away, his volubility making any travel more pleasant. In fact, at the beginning of most journeys, Darcy often asked him a question about some appealing topic to start him off. Bingley knew volumes of information on a surprising array of subjects—from the Great Comet, to King George’s latest health reports, to various incredible tales from soldiers in Napoleonic battlefields—he was as interesting as he was affable.

This journey, however, Bingley sat staring absently out of the window, his gloom obvious and unrelenting.

I shall make it right , Darcy told himself. I shall take him to my club and ensure through a few well-placed hints that he receives invitations to various balls and social events. He will meet new young ladies within a very short period.

Bingley simply needed time out of sight of the beauteous Miss Bennet. Once he regained his senses, he would be on to the next ‘angel’; in a few weeks, he would wonder why he had been so obsessed with the young lady.

I shall tell Bingley of my wedding and send notices to the papers once he moves on. After our marriage, I shall explain to Elizabeth…

What, exactly? That his dearest friend was faithless and fickle?

It would not matter, he decided. Once at Pemberley, Netherfield’s doings would seem unimportant. Elizabeth’s elder sister would come—and he would see her introduced to potential husbands, men she might truly fall in love with. Tilney and Spencer were both good men. There were perhaps others, neighbours such as Lord Roden who was widowed, his children grown; he was robust and not at all ill-looking. Darcy would settle something on her, ensuring she had her pick, restoring her choices to her.

Elizabeth will be pleased to have her sister nearby for always. We will be happy.

With these thoughts, Darcy soothed his ruffled sense of honour. By the time he dropped Bingley at Hurst’s Mayfair home, he was certain of his path and looked forward to seeing Georgiana, to surprising her with his joyful plans. He had meant to wash off any road dust, and perhaps visit his club. From there, he could plan out his time in town. But the lengthy journey with the morose Bingley made him long for his sister.

At last, he would have someone with whom to share his wonderful news—someone who would be pleased and excited for him. If it meant facing his illustrious relations sooner rather than later, it was a worthwhile sacrifice. Instead of having his coachman, Frost, bring him to his own house nearby, he asked to be taken directly to Matlock’s London home, a couple of miles away.

It was full dark by the time he pulled up before the grand mansion belonging to the earl. But to his surprise, the earl and his lady were not in residence, having departed the day before to a house party. He asked at once for Georgiana, who, apparently, had remained behind with her companion. It seemed to take forever before he was greeted by Mrs Annesley, who regarded him with a bright red nose and an unusually puzzled look.

“Where is my sister?” he asked, suddenly, inexplicably, alarmed.

“Why, s-sir…” She stuttered, seeming to have trouble catching her breath. “I am sorry. I thought she was with you.”