Chapter 3

Darcy’s carriage jolted into motion, and Charles Bingley, who had been holding his tongue with difficulty, burst into speech. “Darcy, I met Miss Bennet in the Reading Room! She informed me that she has been visiting her relations since the New Year, and that she called on Caroline some weeks ago. I cannot imagine Miss Bennet being untruthful, but it seems impossible that Caroline would hide such information from me!”

Darcy was aware of a sudden, craven urge to push the door open and leap out onto the snow covered street. He valued Bingley greatly as a friend, and he feared the likely reaction in those blue eyes when he confessed the truth. He was no coward, however, and it was only right to share the blame in this matter.

“Your sister did conceal Miss Bennet’s presence in London, and I must confess that I did as well,” he admitted, his gloved hands clasped tightly on his lap. “Miss Bingley informed me of Miss Bennet’s sojourn here in London in early January, but we both felt it inadvisable to inform you of the lady’s presence.”

Charles Bingley, whose mind had been a maelstrom of bewilderment for the last half hour, felt his mouth gape open.

“ What,” he finally managed to gasp.

“I knew of Miss Bennet’s presence here in Town,” Darcy repeated. “Your sisters and I were in agreement that no good could be served by...”

“You concealed Miss Bennet’s presence? You deceived me?” Bingley interrupted incredulously. “You? Fitzwilliam Darcy, who despises disguise and dishonesty?”

Darcy flushed deeply at these words, embarrassment and resentment writhing in his heart. “Yes, I did, Bingley. You have fallen in love with other blue eyed, blonde, handsome ladies in the past, and I truly did not think that Miss Bennet cared for you. You are a wealthy man and she is the poorly dowered daughter of a country gentleman. I thought she would marry you for your money, and you deserve better than that.”

For a moment, Bingley’s face was twisted with genuine anger, and then the man sighed and leaned back, his face suddenly, unnervingly, blank. “So you and Caroline and Louisa chose to treat me like a child who is too stupid to know what is best for him. I see.”

Darcy gulped. “It is not quite like that...”

“It is entirely like that,” his friend interpolated, his gaze fixed remorselessly on Darcy. “You convinced me that I was wrong about Miss Bennet’s regard for me, and given my own hurting heart, I was not inclined to return to Netherfield. But today Miss Bennet was shocked and distressed at my presence, hardly the behavior of a disinterested acquaintance. I believe you are wrong, Darcy.”

Darcy grimaced and glanced at his friend before lowering his eyes again. “Given Miss Elizabeth’s words, you may well be correct.”

“What about Miss Elizabeth?” Bingley demanded.

Darcy bit his lip and admitted, “I stumbled upon her in the Gothic section, and when I mentioned that you were in the Reading Room, she was quite indignant on her sister’s behalf. According to Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bennet loved you and was greatly distressed by your abandonment.”

Bingley groaned aloud and turned his head to stare out the window at the snow, which was now falling more heavily to blanket the cobbled street. Darcy would be glad to end this conversation by reaching his home, but the poor conditions would slow the journey.

An uncomfortable silence fell for a full five minutes before Bingley faced him again and said, “I truly do not understand this situation. Do you think me such a fool that I cannot be trusted to know my own heart in the matter of love? In any case, why did you care so much that you would threaten our friendship, which has hitherto been based on honesty and respect? Miss Bennet is not wealthy, no, but she is the daughter of gentleman and is both charming and genteel. I am wealthy and well educated, but I am merely the son of a man in trade. I fear that I have shown myself to be no gentleman, for I behaved very ill indeed toward the lady, did I not? I raised expectations of marriage in Meryton and then left without a word. If for no other reason than that, I would have expected you to speak when you knew Miss Bennet was in Town. If my love for her were truly transient, I would have been sufficiently recovered to see her. You should, at least, have given me the choice!”

Darcy drew in a deep breath and said, “You are right and I apologize. I truly thought Miss Bennet indifferent to you, and I consider you a good friend, Bingley. I did not wish you to marry a woman whose only interest was in your wealth.”

Bingley grimaced. “I would have thought it entirely obvious that Miss Bennet would not pretend affection where there is none. She is a most honorable woman!”

“I agree with you,” Darcy responded. “However, you are aware of the situation at Longbourn; the estate is entailed away to Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s parson, and the daughters of the house have a minimal dowry. Bingley, you must understand that in the circles of the aristocracy and the gentry, genuine affection and love often are considered of little importance compared to money and connections. I would not think poorly of Miss Bennet if she accepted an offer for monetary reasons. She is a loving daughter and sister and must be eager to provide security for her family. I did not think she truly loved you, and I do not believe you would thrive in a marriage of convenience. If I was wrong about her heart, and it is likely that I was, then I advised you in error. My intentions were good, but…”

“God save me from friends and relations with good intentions!” Bingley barked angrily, and then his tone shifted to one of contrition, “and God save me from myself, for I am a fool. I was a coward to stay here in Town. I ought to have asked her directly, and she would not have lied to me, not Miss Bennet. What am I to do?”

Darcy opened his mouth, then closed it, suddenly aware of a twinge of irritation. Yes, he had advised his friend to leave Miss Bennet behind, but Bingley asked him for advice all the time. The eldest daughter of Longbourn was an excellent lady, but her mother and youngest sisters were vulgar, garrulous, poorly connected, and impecunious. It seemed a little hard that Bingley, always so eager to lean on his wisdom and experience, was angry now.

“Do you know where Miss Bennet is sojourning here in London?” Bingley asked suddenly.

Darcy blew out a breath and said, “I believe she is staying with her aunt and uncle in Cheapside, though I do not know their precise location.”

He stopped, frowned, and then continued, “I saw the Bennet’s aunt in the library, and Miss Elizabeth called her by the surname Gardiner.”

Bingley nodded tightly. “The Gardiners in Cheapside, and I remember that the uncle is in trade. Thank you.”

The rest of the journey passed in silence.

/

Elizabeth Bennet lay on her bed and stared into the darkness above her. It was almost midnight, and Jane, lying next to her on the bed, was asleep. She could only be thankful for that. Her poor sister had been greatly disturbed by her unexpected encounter with Mr. Bingley, and had even succumbed to a bout of tears. That was most unusual for the generally serene and placid Jane Bennet, but Elizabeth could not fault her sister. She felt inclined to cry too.

It was so very unfair that Jane, the sweetest, kindest, most generous woman in the world, had been treated so cruelly. She would have made Mr. Bingley a wonderful wife, but the gentleman had shown a sad want of resolution in the face of his older, wealthier friend’s advice.

For Elizabeth was quite certain that the arrogant, imperious Mr. Darcy was significantly to blame in sundering Jane from her admirer. She could not easily forget the look of dismay on the man’s handsome, aristocratic countenance when she informed him that Jane was in the Reading Room. Mr. Darcy was obviously fearful that Jane’s attractions would rekindle Bingley’s love toward her.

She blew out a breath and turned on her side, snuggling a little closer to her sister’s warm body. Outside the air was frigid, and even with a multitude of blankets and a hot brick at her feet, it was chilly in bed. She began to think of other things; of books, and music, and dancing, and within a few minutes, she was fast asleep.

/

Darcy House

In the downstairs corridor, the great clock struck one, and Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley, with an income of ten thousand pounds a year, groaned and turned over in bed. He was not generally prone to insomnia, but it had been a peculiar, distressing day, and his mind was racing in spite of the late hour.

The primary concern was, naturally enough, Bingley. Somewhat to Darcy’s surprise, his friend had not discussed the issue of Miss Jane Bennet after the two gentlemen had returned to the house. They had spoken of horseflesh over dinner, and played a few games of billiards before retiring for the night. While Bingley had played poorly and often seemed deep in thought, he had decided to keep his own counsel.

Darcy could have brought up the issue, but he was reluctant to do so. Bingley was his best and closest friend, and the thought of a major breach between the two of them was perturbing. Moreover, he had not yet settled what his own attitude ought to be.

He had advised Bingley to leave Hertfordshire and Miss Bennet for what seemed compelling reasons. He had genuinely thought Miss Bennet indifferent to his friend, and thoroughly disapproved of most of the lady’s relations. With ties to trade, with no money, with a vulgar mother and uncouth sisters, Miss Bennet was no great prize.

And yet, Bingley had not been truly happy for the last two months and it was obvious now that he had been pining for the golden haired eldest daughter of Longbourn. Miss Bennet herself was elegant, kind, gracious, and well mannered. If Miss Elizabeth was correct, the woman had truly fallen in love with Bingley. Given those circumstances, was he right to oppose the match?

But if Bingley did marry Miss Bennet, he would be forever tied to Mrs. Bennet, who was foolish, noisy, and tedious. Surely it would be better for his friend to find a lady with respectable relations...

He realized, with frustration, that his thoughts had gone full circle again, and he still did not know what to do if Bingley asked for his advice. He groaned aloud and abruptly threw back the covers, lurched out of bed, and hurried over to the fire, which was a smoldering heap of glowing coals. He hastily threw in a few more logs of wood and stepped closer to the fire, eager to enjoy the heat as the flames shot up. Once the blaze was well established, he lit a few candles and picked up a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets, which he found both soothing and soporific.

Sonnet 97

How like a winter hath my absence been

From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!

What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!

What old December's bareness everywhere!

And yet this time removed was summer's time;

The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,

Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,

Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease:

Yet this abundant issue seemed to me

But hope of orphans, and unfathered fruit;

For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,

And, thou away, the very birds are mute...”

Darcy was suddenly aware that while his eyes were focused on the written words of the page, his mind was far more agreeably engaged by considering the very great pleasure bestowed by a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman.

He closed his book deliberately and allowed his gaze to rest on the orange and yellow blaze in the fireplace. There was no point in denying it; the most disconcerting factor in today’s meeting at the library was his interaction with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

He had thought, no, he had hoped , that his infatuation for the young lady was entirely at an end. If Miss Jane Bennet was an inappropriate wife for Bingley, then Miss Elizabeth was even more absurd a romantic partner for himself. Bingley was, at least, the son of a tradesman and would climb slightly higher socially by marrying the daughter of a country gentleman. But he was Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley, one of the greatest estates in the land. The Darcys, while untitled, had been in England since the Conqueror. On his mother’s side, he was descended from an earl. No, he was expected to make a great match – perhaps with his cousin, heiress of the vast estate of Rosings, and if not her, a lady of culture, connections, and wealth.

But...

Darcy lifted a hand to rub his forehead, exasperated. He had long prided himself on his reserved nature and ability to be indifferent to winsome ladies attempting to snare him, but where Miss Elizabeth was concerned, he felt a strange amalgam of confusion, chagrin, and admiration. The lady was without a doubt handsome, but he had met many handsome women in the balls and routs of London and been left entirely unmoved. The second Miss Bennet was so unlike the ladies of the ton; she was universally courteous, but she did not fawn over him. Indeed, she often argued with him, always with a twinkle in her eye.

Well, not always. Today, there had been no amusement in those eyes. Miss Elizabeth had been openly angry about Bingley’s desertion of her sister.

But what was he to do? Miss Bennet was charming, but her mother was...

He groaned and leaned back against his chair, aware that his thoughts had run full circle again. It seemed he would not get much sleep tonight.