Chapter 58

58

I t was raining steadily, drearily. While Darcy would normally dress in his best to call on Elizabeth; today, his old oiled greatcoat had been the sensible choice to keep the worst of the rain off.

He was early and he felt sorry for his horse, having to extend his ride, but Miss Bingley had not left Netherfield as Charles had intimated she would, and he had escaped the house as early as possible. He was even considering relocating back to the inn, despite the drawbacks. Nothing could be worse than what he was enduring.

He felt sorry for himself as well as his horse. Surely, no one would mind if he was a little early at Longbourn, given his courtship of Elizabeth was official?

He was almost ready to urge the horse to a trot when he heard shouts behind him, and he drew aside before turning in the saddle. Then came the sound of whip cracks and the creaking of a heavy coach. It must be going at a tremendous speed.

Hastily, he urged the horse onto the verge and into the shelter of the trees, as a post coach came swaying into sight, the coachman stupidly urging the horses on. The lane was rutted, deep ruts filled with water, and the mud was slippery. All their lives were being put at risk, just because the man wanted to get out of the rain.

There was nothing Darcy could do, except pray that there would not be an accident. One wheel hit a rut and the coach bounced perilously, sending a few ill-secured packages flying into the deep water-filled ruts. Darcy winced.

There was no way of hailing the coach; it was already turning the corner, and he shivered; the poor grooms must be holding on for their lives.

Several people would wonder why their post had not reached their destination, and he shook his head resignedly. Carefully, he urged the horse back onto the lane. As he rode past the rut, he glanced down idly. Music sheets! One of the packages had broken open, and several sheets of music had floated out. Complex music.

Unable to prevent himself, he halted and dismounted. Reaching over, he drew the opened packet towards him, and the music. His heart went cold, but he glanced up. Where could he get out of this rain? It was a little better once he was deep under the trees and he could examine what he had found.

He ought not to look, he knew that. But his anger would not permit him to stop. It was Elizabeth's hand that had written on this music paper; he knew that from when she had written out music for Georgiana.

Five, six, seven, no; eight pieces of music. Each one written out with care and attention. Each titled — works he did not know. The one on the top was called Hope's Beginning, and his heart erratically pounded in ice-cold horror.

Santorio. She was Santorio. There was no doubt of it.

He turned to the covering note and unfolded it.

Dear Uncle Gardiner

I hope you and all the family are well. It was so lovely seeing you at Jane's wedding. Was it not beautiful?

And I am sorry I have been so lax as not to have this ready to give you when you were here, but I know you have much in town still to be typeset.

Of your kindness, might you elevate Hope's Beginning to near the top of the pile? I am sure that those who have March of Hope will be happy to have a follow-on piece. I want everyone to be as happy as I am now.

Although I really wish I could have spoken to Aunt when you were here. I know I will have to tell Mr. D my secret very soon and I am afraid of his anger …

Convulsively, Darcy folded the sheet and put it back with the music.

Angry? Of course he was angry. She had deliberately lied to him, misled him — for months, now. Would she have waited until they were betrothed to tell him, when he could not withdraw, but had to marry where he could not trust?

No love could survive such a bitter betrayal.

He shivered.

London. He would go to London, and then to Pemberley. He could mourn the loss of his dream there, where there were no memories of Elizabeth.

But first — he must confront her.

He folded the packet roughly and wedged it under his greatcoat. It would be safe there, and he could shake it under her nose and then see what she said.

"Dry him off, please, and put a warm rug on him. But I will need him shortly to go back to Netherfield."

The groom touched his cap and led the horse away. Darcy turned heavily and climbed the few wide steps to the front door, which opened before he could knock.

He shook his head silently at the butler when the man seemed to want to take his outerwear, and merely barked out the name of his betrayer. "Miss Bennet."

The man looked cautious, but led him to the sitting room door. "Mr. Darcy."

Darcy entered, and looked round to surprised silence. His appearance must have discomposed them all, but he had no time for that. He thrust the packet towards her .

"Lizzy, what is that?" Mrs. Bennet's voice sounded puzzled and Miss Bennet became even paler, if that was possible.

"I will explain later, Mama. Mr. Darcy, let us go to the back parlour."

He followed her in silence, impressed despite himself, at her apparent composure; but when she closed the door behind him, she leaned against it as if she needed its support.

"This …" he shook the packet under her nose. "This fell off the post coach right in front of me and burst open."

She reached out to take it, not meeting his eyes. Then she placed it on the table beside her, her seeming calmness inflaming his rage.

"You lied to me. You lied to me and you misled me — the whole of our acquaintance." He hissed the words with venom.

She flinched and moved sideways in an attempt to get further away from him, but he could hardly help himself, his anger and disappointment that she was not the person he had thought she was, and he followed her round.

He could see her face now, and there was fear in her eyes.

That was the one thing that halted him from getting closer; but it only made him more angry — that she might even think he would strike her!

He turned away, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth.

"I am sorry, Mr. Darcy. And I do apologise that you had to find out in this way. I knew the time was coming when I needed to trust you with my last secret. In fact I discussed it this very morning with Papa, and was going to tell you today."

"Deception. Lies; misleading words. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable." He spat the words at her, wanting her to hurt as much as he was.

He turned away again, shaking his head. "You must know that disguise of every sort is my abhorrence."

"I am sorry that you had to find out this way," her voice was barely a whisper. "But, terrible as it is for me as well as you; perhaps it is as well that I now know what sort of man you are."

He spun round; how could she speak like that to him? After she had wronged him so! But before he could say a word more, there was a sharp knock on the door and Bennet strode in without waiting to be acknowledged.

"I think, Mr. Darcy, your call is at an end." He could look quite intimidating, Darcy conceded, despite being several inches shorter and several decades older than he was.

He nodded, once. Then he turned to her.

"Goodbye, Miss Bennet. As you must know, our courtship is at an end." And — a gentleman, he must be a gentleman — that would cut her to the quick. He bowed. "Please accept my best wishes for your health and happiness." And he turned and strode out of the room and away from her. He would not permit himself to look back.