Chapter Eleven

Darcy

The Following Day

I n the distance, a door clattered shut. Darcy, unaccustomed to hearing activity on the upper floor where his chamber lay, paused. Then he remembered. Elizabeth Bennet and her aunt, Mrs Gardiner, had arrived earlier that morning and settled into their chambers.

He'd seen them only briefly, which had suited him well. He'd forced himself to descend the stairs to greet them and was overcome by intense feelings of guilt when he saw that Mrs Gardiner was truly injured. She had needed help getting to her chamber, supported by her husband and Mr Lightower. Her pain was obvious. He had already consulted his physician to attend to her. While Mr Lancaster, the town surgeon, was adequate, Mr Smith, though sometimes vexing with his insistence on rejoining society, was among the top of his field and would provide much better care.

Not that it would undo any of the harm Darcy had caused. No, that was irreversible. Broken bones sometimes did not heal properly and long-term complications could be expected. Neither would it undo the disdain his new bride felt for him.

He took a deep breath and paused when notes of lavender and rose penetrated his nostrils. For a moment, he found himself transported to a beautiful garden, hearing birds sing in the distance. Wasn't that peculiar? He shook his head, wondering if perhaps he had indeed kept away from the world for too long if something as simple as a pleasant scent could trick his mind into thinking he was elsewhere.

"Sir? Mr Darcy?" Cogsworth said, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"Yes, Cogsworth?"

How long had the man been standing there?

"Yes?" he repeated, barking this time, for he did not like being caught unaware. "Mr Gardiner has departed."

Ah, so the sound of the door had been Mr Gardiner leaving.

"And Bingley?"

"He is in the garden with Miss Bennet and Mrs Bingley."

Darcy nodded. The Bingleys had come along with the Gardiners when they had brought Pemberley's newest residents over from Lambton, but Bingley had the good sense not to enter with them and had stayed in the garden.

Perhaps his friend had finally understood that whatever friendship they might have had was over now. Somewhere inside Darcy, his heart sank as he realised that he had finally got what he'd always wanted—to be rid of the last of his persistent friends who reminded him of his former life.

"Very well. I shall go outside. I will be in the garden reading. Please alert me when they have left. And do not tell anyone where I am," he said, his jaw set, and took himself away. Darcy exited into the garden, stopping only in the library to retrieve the book he was presently reading, and then left, aiming to put himself a fair distance away from his former friend and the woman he was meant to marry. As he left, he spotted the group of three, consisting of the Bennet sisters and Mr Bingley, standing outside by the door while a carriage rolled down the road from the stables. All three of them looked the picture of despair and bile pushed up his throat.

They were miserable because they had to leave Miss Elizabeth Bennet in his care. Would they feel the same if he were still the handsome, admired gentleman of old? No. Likely not. But such was life now. He let out a puff of air and left, determined to return to the company he preferred to any other, his own.