Chapter 3

Mr. Darcy’s Bedchamber

Netherfield

Early Friday Morning

29 th November

Darcy jerked awake from a dream that trickled from his mind even as his eyes opened, leaving only a vague sense of disquiet. He blinked up at the ceiling for a moment before glancing towards the window. The crack between the curtains was still dark, though he could see no stars.

He sat up, scrubbing his hands across his face and through his hair and then looking around. The room was too dim to make out the clock clearly, but flames were licking along fresh-laid logs, flaring up into a true fire as they caught from kindling to bark, and welcome heat surged out into the room. The servant who started the fire each morning must have laid it very recently.

Darcy lowered himself back down and turned onto his side. It was early, and he could afford to sleep for a while longer while his room warmed up. A few minutes later, he was forced to admit it was a futile effort; his mind was simply too busy to let him rest further.

He rolled onto his back with an exasperated sigh and stared up at the molding on the ceiling above. Thoughts of Bingley’s impending, and disastrous, mistake kept chasing themselves around inside his head. For all that Bingley had a tendency to fall in love with fair-haired women, he had never been quite so besotted before as to intend to propose .

As the older and more experienced of the two men, Darcy believed it was his duty to shepherd his na?ve friend. Marriage to Miss Bennet would be calamitous for Bingley, and Darcy could not permit it to happen. But Bingley’s sudden surge of stubbornness was as unsettling as it was surprising, and Darcy would have to make his moves very carefully to keep from feeding this newfound obstinacy.

Nor was that the only problem currently occupying his mind. Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s piquant face and fine eyes were vivid in his recollections. She was a very handsome woman, as he could now admit readily. He had genuinely forgotten his words about her the day of that dreadful assembly. Looking back on them now, he suppressed a wince. Indeed, he had been shockingly rude to the lady, and regrettably, she had heard him insult her.

It was little wonder that Bingley claimed she disliked him! He had always thought their witty repartee was enjoyable to both of them; indeed, he had been deeply amused by and admiring of her many arch comments and observations. Could it be possible that her mild antagonism towards him was sincerely meant? How else might she show genuine displeasure with him?

Darcy found himself unreasonably dismayed by this realization. He had enjoyed Miss Elizabeth’s company considerably. Were it not for her connections to trade, her mother’s loud vulgarity, and her younger sisters’ hoydenish behavior, he might even have found himself in danger of offering for her. No lady in London had ever enticed him as she did. None of the high society misses eager to land him as a husband would ever dream of teasing or discussing farming with him, as they were too eager to be compliant and lady-like.

It was to London that he should return, away from her beguiling smiles and mischievous words, to less tempting company. Ideally, he should take Bingley with him, far from the danger posed by the charming Miss Bennet and her unfortunate relations. But he had no doubt that Charles would refuse to leave Miss Bingley, and Darcy could not bring himself to prevail on Bingley to do so. Were Georgiana injured and confined to one house, he would not dream of leaving her side until she had made a full recovery.

Not that Georgiana Darcy and Caroline Bingley were at all alike. His sister was young and sweet and soft-spoken. Miss Bingley was shrewish at the best of times, and Darcy doubted that being injured would sweeten her temper or tame her tongue. Everyone in the house was going to be in for a deeply disagreeable few weeks.

Of course, he himself could depart for London and leave Bingley to his family’s affairs. But the conversation in the library had left him with a distressing certainty that Bingley would offer for Miss Bennet if left to his own devices. Darcy was certain that his young friend would come to regret this hasty decision within a few short years, and though he longed to escape this place, he could not in good conscience leave Bingley to carry out his reckless designs.

He groaned aloud. He truly did not know what to do.

/

The Drawing Room

Netherfield

Later

The drawing room was filled with light, and the red carpet glowing like a sea of poppies. The curtains had been pushed back, the sunlight from the windows filling the room. A large fire leapt and crackled in the grate, lending its own heat and illumination and cheer to the room. Not a speck of dust was to be seen on mantel or furniture or picture frames; each decorative figurine was placed with perfect care.

The inhabitants of the room seemed oblivious to the serene beauty of their surroundings. Charles Bingley stood at the hearth, his back to the warm fire. Louisa Hurst was settled gracefully in the leather wingbacked chair closest to the fireplace, while Darcy sat upright on the settee nearby. A closed book lay at his hand ignored, his eyes on his friend.

“Miss Bennet does not truly care for you, Charles,” Louisa Hurst said indignantly.

Bingley shook his head fervently and said, “I am confident that you are incorrect, Sister. I am not saying that she loves me as much as I love her, but I am certain that she genuinely returns my regard.”

“I agree with Mrs. Hurst,” Darcy said, rising to his feet, the better to loom over his shorter friend. “I watched her very carefully during the ball a few nights ago, and while her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as always, I did not observe any symptom of peculiar regard.”

To his satisfaction, Bingley first looked startled, then thoughtful, and then downcast. “Do you really think so, Darcy?”

“I am certain of it.”

Bingley’s brow furrowed. “Well, I do not think you are necessarily right. In any case, if she does not truly care for me, she need not accept my offer of marriage. I will be disappointed, of course, but I will accept it.”

Darcy and Mrs. Hurst exchanged longsuffering glances, and Darcy said, “Bingley, she will accept your offer regardless of her feelings toward you. You are a wealthy man…”

“She is not a fortune hunter,” Bingley interrupted sternly. “She is far too virtuous a woman to wed merely for money.”

Again, Darcy and Mrs. Hurst traded weary looks, and the lady said, “Charles, the Bennets’ estate is entailed away from the female line. Miss Bennet is obligated by family loyalty to accept any eligible offer, and you are far more than eligible.”

Bingley paled at these words and looked helplessly at Darcy, who said, “Your sister is entirely correct. I respect Miss Bennet’s character and sense of honor, and as the eldest daughter of the house, she doubtless feels the responsibility to marry well, heedless of her feelings.”

He felt his chest loosen a little at the expression on Bingley’s face. The younger man looked unhappy, and while Darcy did not wish to grieve his friend, it was far better that he accept the truth now rather than later, before he was legally joined to a woman who did not truly love him.

“You truly do not believe she cares for me?” Bingley asked a moment later, his tone miserable.

“She does not,” Darcy replied with absolute certainty.

The door opened to the drawing room at this moment, and the butler entered. “Sirs, Madame, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet have called.”

Bingley brightened instantly and said, “Show them in, Simmons.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why ever are they here?” Mrs. Hurst fumed, though softly. “Caroline wrote Jane yesterday informing her of our departure!”

Darcy, too, was taken aback and felt his heart beat faster as the eldest Misses Bennet entered the room. His eyes shifted immediately to Miss Elizabeth, whose expression was, now that he knew what to look for, not at all propitiating. A gasp from his right turned his attention to Miss Bennet, and what he saw thoroughly shocked him.

There was no doubt about Miss Bennet’s feelings on observing his friend. She was always handsome, but now her face glowed with genuine joy.

“Mr. Bingley!” she exclaimed. “I thought you to be in London!”

“Miss Bennet!” Bingley replied with equal enthusiasm, taking a few steps closer. “I returned late last night after receiving an express that Caroline was injured!”

“Oh yes, and I am so very sorry about that,” Jane Bennet replied, her joy giving way to sympathy. “How is she today?”

“How did you know that Caroline was hurt?” Mrs. Hurst demanded suspiciously.

Elizabeth Bennet, hitherto silent, explained, “One of our maids was in Meryton yesterday when a servant from Netherfield was purchasing bandages and liniments for Miss Bingley. They spoke about the particulars, and we, in turn, heard the news that way.”

Mrs. Hurst huffed. “I should not be surprised that the servants have nothing better to do than gossip about their betters.”

“Yes, word travels very quickly in the country,” Elizabeth agreed, her eyes dangerously bright. “Almost as quickly as letters do!”

Bingley, who had been gazing raptly at Jane, turned a confused look on Elizabeth. “Letters?”

“Or a letter, sir,” Elizabeth said, turning a gimlet eye on the master of Netherfield. “Miss Bingley was kind enough to send a letter to Jane yesterday informing her that you were all intending to spend the winter in Town.”

“Oh!” Charles said, looking bewildered. “Well, that was not…”

“Moreover,” Elizabeth continued angrily, “Miss Bingley informed us that she fully expects you to marry Miss Darcy. That was quite a surprise to both of us, given that you have been paying so much attention to Jane.”

Jane, who had been staring adoringly at Bingley, swung around in horror at these words. “Elizabeth!”

“Jane, I have no time for propriety when your heart is concerned,” her sister said, taking a step toward Bingley, who looked entirely flummoxed. “Mr. Bingley, if you intend to marry another, you should say so…”

“I have no thought whatsoever of marrying Miss Darcy!” Bingley interrupted, obviously astonished. “I cannot believe … cannot imagine what … surely you misunderstood my sister’s letter!”

Darcy’s mind was swirling with his newfound understanding of the situation. Jane Bennet undeniably was in love with his friend, and Elizabeth Bennet was furious! He looked on as the lovely Miss Bennet, who, after a moment of hesitation, pulled a letter out of her reticule and handed it to Bingley.

Bingley gulped, looked down at the letter, read it, read it again, and then turned an outraged look on his elder sister. “Louisa, did you have any part in deciding the contents of this letter?”

Mrs. Hurst was obviously taken aback at her brother’s harsh tone, and since she had a meeker nature than her sister, responded in a placating voice. “Caroline and I conferred before she wrote the letter, yes. But Charles, we all know you admire Miss Darcy very much…”

“Admire, yes, but I have no expectation of marrying her! She is only sixteen years of age, and while Darcy is an excellent friend, I am confident that he wishes for his only sister to marry a man of higher rank than myself.”

Darcy had, in truth, not thought much about his sister’s future marriage. Given the near catastrophe at Ramsgate only this summer, his only desire was to keep her safe and unwed for at least a few years.

Everyone was looking at him now, he realized; Miss Bennet hopefully, Miss Elizabeth suspiciously, Mrs. Hurst pleadingly, and Bingley questioningly.

“I, erm,” he began, and then, after a pause, started over. “Georgiana is full young to be thinking of marriage. I would welcome you as a brother by marriage, Bingley, but I have no expectation of such an outcome.”

Jane Bennet was smiling with such enthusiasm that even he, who was not remotely interested in the lady, could not help but accept that the woman was one of the most dazzling in all of England.

A moment later, his gaze shifted to Miss Elizabeth, who was glaring at Mrs. Hurst, her eyes narrowed, her cheeks flushed. She was, in her wrath, more a goddess than a lady, and he felt a strange trickle of admiration mixed with unease.

Bingley, who had turned to stare at the woman he adored, said, “Miss Bennet, I hope that this letter did not dismay you? I mean, did you believe…?”

“I did, of course,” Miss Bennet replied and wiped a tear from her eye. “How could I not? I thought Caroline to be a good friend and assumed that she was warning me, very kindly, that you had no interest in me at all as a wife and…”

“Interest?” Bingley interrupted passionately. “I…”

He trailed off and looked around, before saying with quiet dignity, “Louisa, Miss Elizabeth, Darcy, would you be willing to give me a few moments with Miss Bennet? Or if you like, perhaps we could adjourn to the neighboring sitting room?”

“Come along, Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Hurst,” Elizabeth ordered with an impudent grin. “Perhaps we could go to the library?”

Darcy felt rather as if he had been swimming and caught in a strong current; events were happening too quickly for him to control.

“Bingley,” he began feebly. “Perhaps you should wait?”

Bingley cast his eyes heavenward in annoyance and turned to the lady standing near him. “Miss Bennet, will you join me in the sitting room next door?”

“I will follow you anywhere,” the lady replied, her eyes shining like stars. Bingley boldly took her hand and led the way to a side door. He opened the door, the couple passed through it, and the door shut behind them with something suspiciously like a slam, leaving Darcy alone with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Elizabeth.

“I, erm, I must see to my sister,” Mrs. Hurst said, looking as shocked as Darcy felt. She grabbed her shawl from a nearby chair and hurried out of the drawing room. Elizabeth Bennet, now looking both triumphant and amused, followed her, though more slowly.

“Where are you going?” Darcy blurted out.

The lady turned to lift one dark eyebrow and said, “I think it would be best if I waited for Jane out in the hall. I am confident that neither of us has an interest in an extensive conversation over what just came to pass.”

She turned back and quietly left the room, and Darcy found himself standing alone, entirely discombobulated. What had just happened?