Chapter 3

Three

August 15

Darcy House

Darcy set down his pen and flexed away the ache in his fingers as he read through what he had written. Wickham's debts discharged, a new commission far away from decent society, and a thousand pounds settled upon his bride. Yes, everything was in order and ready to be sent off to his solicitor. Wickham had wanted more, of course, but eventually he had been prevailed upon to be reasonable. He would still receive far more than he deserved, but then Darcy was not going to such lengths for the sake of his erstwhile friend. Nor was he doing it for Lydia Bennet, who had not shown a single ounce of gratitude towards their benefactor for his largess or any consciousness of guilt for her own actions. No, he was doing it for her .

Elizabeth.

An image of Elizabeth, the last look he had allowed himself before their abrupt parting, flashed before him and Darcy felt a sharp pang at the tearful devastation which had been prominent in her fine eyes. Any fondness she might have been cultivating towards him—gone in an instant. Just as soon as she had learnt what her sister had done and with whom, any kind feeling was dismissed.

Darcy reclined in his chair and rubbed at his eyes, which had begun to sting. Regret rose like bile in his throat and he swallowed to drive it back down. How she must detest him now! He, who had ruined the chances of happiness for not one but two of her sisters. There was yet hope for Miss Bennet and Bingley, but there was nought anyone could do to prevent the miserable future of Miss Lydia. She would be married to Wickham to save her own reputation and spare her family's; there simply was no other way. Had Darcy done what he ought, what was right, and set aside his pride to alert the denizens of Meryton of Wickham's vicious propensities, the miserable cur would not have been allowed to prey upon any of them. Since he had not, Miss Lydia and, by extension, his beloved Elizabeth, would suffer an unbreakable connexion with the lout. And for this, the Bennets must be grateful!

At least Elizabeth's reputation would be preserved. She would eventually marry and… No, he could not stomach the thought at all. She deserved every happiness, but the idea of her bound to someone besides himself was unpalatable, to say the least, and he would not torment himself with the notion. Still, he could— would , eventually—be content with the knowledge that she was out there in the world unencumbered by her sister's folly. If only he could be assured that she was not also thinking ill of him.

A rap at the door recalled his attention to the present. "Come."

The butler entered with a salver suspended upon his splayed fingers. He crossed the room and held it out to his master. "A visitor, sir. He says his business is urgent."

Without glancing at the card, Darcy said, "I am not at home to callers."

"It is a Mr Bennet, on behalf of Mr Gardiner. He is most insistent."

Darcy jerked upright in his chair. "Mr Bennet?"

He had left instructions with his butler to allow Mr Gardiner entrance; he had not expected Elizabeth's father to arrive on his doorstep. He would have preferred to deal with the uncle, who had proved himself more reasonable and dependable in Darcy's experience, but it seemed he had little choice in the matter.

"Yes, sir. Shall I send him away?"

"No! No, I will see him. Bring him here, Clarence, thank you."

Clarence bowed and retreated from whence he had come. During the anxious minute or so before he returned, Darcy stood and donned his jacket, which had been thrown aside some hours ago, and did his best to repair his appearance. He was tugging at the hem of his waistcoat when the door opened again.

His visitor was, indeed, Mr Bennet and he looked more haggard and sombre than Darcy had ever seen him. No small wonder, given his purpose for visiting London. He declined refreshment and took up one of the chairs before the desk while Darcy resumed his own seat.

"Mr Bennet, to what do I owe this honour?"

"I have come on a particular errand which is rather delicate. Is our privacy assured?"

Darcy folded his hands and rested them lightly upon the desk as he leant forward, seriousness in his purpose. "You have my word that nothing which you tell me in confidence shall escape this room."

Mr Bennet's eyes narrowed for a moment before he nodded. From within his coat pocket, he withdrew a much-abused packet of papers and placed them on the desk between them. With two fingers, he slid the papers towards his host. When Darcy realised what they were, he felt the blood drain precipitously from his face.

"As you can see, Mr Darcy, I have come into possession of a most remarkable letter, one addressed to my daughter Elizabeth."

"Where—" Ashamed to hear his voice tremble, Darcy cleared his throat and made a second attempt. "Where did you get this?"

"I found it between the cushions in my brother Gardiner's carriage yesterday. Fear not, I am reasonably certain that its contents remain private. He declaims any knowledge of it and, given how long ago it was dated, I am certain someone at Longbourn would have mentioned it by now had they been aware of its existence. That aside, I believe you are familiar with what it says?"

Darcy tore his gaze away from the letter, his letter, and reaffixed it to Mr Bennet's grim visage. He swallowed. "I am."

"Then I am sure you know what I am about to demand of your honour, sir."

For a fleeting moment, Darcy was filled with light and elation, only for said light to be snuffed out as quickly as it had flared into being. "If you have read the letter in its entirety, then you know why I cannot oblige you. Much as I would wish to, your daughter is almost certainly of a different mind."

Mr Bennet snorted derisively. "I think we are far beyond what Lizzy would wish , Mr Darcy. No, I have come here, as her father, to demand satisfaction on her behalf. She will obey regardless of her opinion on the matter."

Although disgusted with Mr Bennet's apparent disregard for Elizabeth's preference, Darcy could not entirely fault him for it. It was every guardian's duty to see to their charge's welfare, even when that conflicted with their wants and desires. He had been forced into similar situations with Georgiana in the past—most notably when he had denied her the so-called privilege of marrying Wickham last summer. It had been done and done for the best, though his sweet sister had sworn initially that she would never forgive him for it.

Mr Bennet found himself in a similar situation now, not only with Miss Lydia but also with Elizabeth. It did not escape Darcy that both situations were in part, if not wholly, his fault. Wickham certainly had a hand in the ruination of the Bennets, but it seemed Darcy could claim yet more responsibility.

"Well? Are you amenable, sir, or must I call you out?"

Darcy startled. He had quite forgot that Mr Bennet was expecting a response. "It is not my cooperation at issue, but that of your daughter. Are you really willing to demand this of her? I can assure you, she retains no amiable feelings for me, especially since she received word of her sister's elopement."

It was Mr Bennet's turn to appear startled. "How do you know of that?"

Darcy grimaced; he would not have stated the matter so baldly had he realised Mr Bennet thought him ignorant of the affair. "I happened upon Miss Elizabeth not long after she received word of it from Miss Bennet."

"I suppose this at least saves me from awkward disclosures," Mr Bennet grumbled. "You can understand why I must insist upon you marrying Lizzy. I have yet to find Lydia and, even if I do, the reputation of my family is irreparably tarnished. My other girls still require husbands and a connexion with you cannot hurt their chances. If we are fortunate, your standing might even repair ours."

"You would use my good name to wipe away the stain upon yours?"

Mr Bennet's expression was serious and implacable. "If I must."

If Mr Bennet were not Elizabeth's father, Darcy might have thrown him from the house for his demands. That said, he would never do anything which might cause his beloved distress, and so he could not. Further, Mr Bennet was in an untenable situation and some allowances must be made.

Darcy sighed and sank into his chair. Rubbing his aching eyes with his thumb and index finger, he said, "What if I could promise to restore your family's reputation in another way? By assuring a marriage between Miss Lydia and Wickham?"

"I should say you were dreaming, sir."

Darcy dropped his hand and levelled a glare at Mr Bennet for his glib jibe. "As a matter of fact, I have seen them. I have even taken the liberty of reaching a settlement with Wickham on Miss Lydia's behalf which would discharge his debts and set him up in a new commission in exchange for marrying her. It was the matter I wished to speak to Mr Gardiner about when I left my card yesterday."

Mr Bennet gaped at Darcy. "You have found them?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I have known Wickham for many years and am aware of some of his regular haunts. Between that and a few coins to one of his friends"—Darcy could not help but sneer at the oblique reference to Mrs Younge—"it was a relatively simple matter. I have just this morning written notes for my solicitor and expect to have the documents prepared by the morrow."

Mr Bennet sat up straighter in his chair. "It changes nothing about your obligation to Elizabeth. Not only have you have corresponded with her, but Gardiner is certain that you showed her pointed attentions in public. I have learnt much from my recent trials, sir, and shall not have any gentleman sporting with my daughters' respectability again."

Darcy flushed and looked away. He had been courting Elizabeth in Derbyshire, as much as he was capable. Her relations, his guests, and the residents of the village had undoubtedly noticed, given his two visits to the inn where she was staying and her frequent attendance at Pemberley. Miss Bingley had turned absolutely green, he had been so obvious. Of course, all this had been before he had lost hope of possibly earning her affections.

"She will not wish it and I will not force her."

"It is not up to you to force her hand, but to me," said Mr Bennet. "Trust me when I say that Lizzy will see reason."

"I still cannot countenance requiring Miss Elizabeth to accept me against her will. It is abominable and I shall not be a part of it."

Mr Bennet regarded him coolly over the rim of his spectacles. "I think you are forgetting that it is not only Elizabeth's reputation at stake over this letter. Should the contents become known, others also might suffer."

Darcy tensed to spring to his feet, but restrained himself just in time. With his fingers clawing at the arms of his chair, he growled, "Are you threatening my sister, sir?"

Though Mr Bennet did not shrink back, he did, at least, appear somewhat abashed. "No, of course not. However, I would remind you that you have faced a situation similar to mine not so long ago. Would you not do anything conceivable to put it all to rights? I am sorry to be taking Elizabeth's choice from her, but there must be reparation made, for her sake and the rest of her family."

"She did not write the letter!"

"She did not burn it, either."

Darcy was forcibly struck by Mr Bennet's observation and his grip loosened. Why had Elizabeth held onto his letter all this time? It was incredible that she had even read it, but to keep it and even carry it with her—as he supposed she must have if she had lost it in her uncle's carriage on her trip to Derbyshire—defied explanation.

Unless…

"Aside from this supposed unwillingness," said Mr Bennet, impatiently interrupting Darcy's contemplations, "are you prepared to oppose my demands?"

Darcy shook his head, both in response to Mr Bennet and to dispel the unlikely hopes teasing his heart. Even if Elizabeth had kept the letter out of some sort of fondness for him, surely her improved opinion had been obliterated over his part in the ongoing calamity. No doubt she had thrown it away, which would explain how Mr Bennet had come into possession of it. "Not at all."

"Then I believe we have an accord."

Mr Bennet stretched out his hand and Darcy eyed it with unease. He was more than a little tempted to capitulate, but also deeply worried that he would be hurting Elizabeth. Then again, he was potentially harming her by not acquiescing to her father's demands, now that his own carelessness had put her respectability in jeopardy. As far as he knew, only Mr Bennet had seen the letter aside from himself and Elizabeth, but it was not certain. Even if it remained reasonably secure, more than one person had expectations of him eventually making her an offer. More than that, Mr Bennet was correct in that Darcy's reputation could rehabilitate the Bennets', thus improving the chances of the other girls making matches.

Most importantly, though, he loved Elizabeth. He loved her more than he could will or reason away, even in a hundred lifetimes. She gave him the strength to become a better man, to do whatever it took to right his wrongs regardless of any inconvenience to himself. It was this strength which was also his undoing, his weakness; he could never walk away from the opportunity to marry her. And if there is a chance that she once cared for me, even slightly, perhaps I can convince her to do so again.

Feeling equal parts despicable and jubilant, Darcy shook Mr Bennet's hand.