Chapter 2

Darcy's Office

Pemberley

An Hour Later

The windows behind the desk cast ample light across the polished oak surface, the sunlight glaring off the pale paper lined up in neat stacks. The pen box sat open, the pen knife neatly put away, and the inkstand uncapped for frequent dipping. Darcy's hand darted over the single page laid out before him, neat black script flowing from his pen.

"Darcy?"

The master of Pemberley looked up to discover his close friend, Charles Bingley, hovering near the door, looking uncertain.

"Bingley," Darcy said, "please come in, shut the door, and sit down."

The younger man obediently did so, and once the two men were both seated, there was a long pause as Darcy wondered what exactly to say. He was privy to a great deal of information about the Bennets, and while he trusted Bingley, he did not at all trust the man's sisters.

"I need to go to London to deal with a problem," he said abruptly.

"Oh! I am sorry, Darcy. That sounds serious. I hope no one in your family is ill?"

"No," Darcy said, and after a moment of hesitation, continued, "I am hesitant to speak about private matters, but it has to do with the Bennet family."

Charles Bingley's eyes widened in distress. "The Bennets? Is it … is Miss Bennet unwell?"

Darcy sighed and shook his head. On the one hand, he felt an urgency to depart for London as quickly as possible, but in truth, an hour did not truly matter. It was obvious that Bingley's heart still belonged to the blonde eldest daughter of Longbourn, and this conversation had been delayed too long.

"No," he said and rose to his feet to wander over and stare outside at the flower garden which spread out beyond the window.

A moment later, he turned and gazed directly into his friend's eyes. "Bingley, I wish to tell you something, but I must beg that you avoid speaking of it to your sisters or, indeed, anyone else."

"I will be completely silent," Bingley promised.

Darcy returned to his desk and sat back down rather heavily. "I mentioned that I met Miss Elizabeth Bennet while visiting my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, at Rosings this spring?"

"You mentioned that, yes," Bingley replied.

Darcy's gaze lowered to the stack of papers in front of him, and he said, "I was strongly attracted to Miss Elizabeth during my stint at Netherfield, and after a few weeks of spending time with her in Kent, I acknowledged that I adored her with all my heart, and I made her an offer of marriage."

"What?!"

His friend's cry was full of such astonishment that Darcy could not help but lift his gaze to observe Bingley's wide eyes and flushed face.

"I made an offer of marriage," Darcy repeated, "and she refused me."

"What?" Bingley repeated and tilted his head as if the world had suddenly turned upside down. "Miss Elizabeth refused you? Master of Pemberley? Nephew of an earl? Why??"

"Because she loathed me, and quite right she was. My offer was filled with insults about her family's poor behavior and lack of connections, and I was consumed by pride and arrogance! I was totally taken aback when she rejected my offer, and harshly, but I deserved it."

"You do not deserve it! Indeed, as much as I admire Miss Elizabeth, I can only feel that it was very peculiar and regrettable that she did not accept your offer. You are an honorable man and truly my best friend."

Darcy swallowed hard and heaved out a breath. "You may not feel the same when you hear that I was instrumental in separating you from Miss Jane Bennet."

The flush in Bingley's cheeks drained away at these words, to be replaced by pallor. "What do you mean, Darcy?"

"One of the reasons Miss Elizabeth rejected me was that she heard that I had convinced you to leave Miss Bennet behind in Hertfordshire. She informed me that Miss Bennet cared for you deeply and was heartbroken when you left and did not return."

Bingley actually wobbled slightly in place and looked down at his own hands. "Do you think … do you believe she was telling the truth about Miss Bennet?"

"Without a doubt," Darcy said and chuckled ruefully. "If there is one thing that I know about Miss Elizabeth, it is that she is truthful and does not prevaricate. I was entirely incorrect about Miss Bennet's feelings; she is a gentle and quiet person, and I misread her serenity for indifference. I was wrong."

Bingley groaned aloud and looked up. "It is not right for Miss Elizabeth to blame you, Darcy. I could, and should, have ignored your advice regarding Miss Bennet."

"I also concealed from you that Jane Bennet was in London for several months at the beginning of the year," Darcy continued, determined to make a clean breast of the matter. "She visited Miss Bingley, who took several weeks to return the call, and when your sister did return the call, she made it clear through her words and demeanor that her friendship with Miss Bennet was at an end."

Now Bingley's face was purple. "You … my sister … how could you…?"

Darcy shook his head. "I was an idiot and a fool, Bingley, that is how. I made assumptions about Miss Bennet's attachment to you, and because of her family's situation in life and the poor behavior of the younger Bennet girls, I decided that she was not worthy of you. Of course, I then realized that I was madly in love with Miss Elizabeth when I saw her again in Kent, which is one of the great ironies of life. My arrogant interference in your courtship of Miss Bennet resulted in the greatest disappointment of my life."

Bingley was still looking angry, but he was at heart a kind soul, and he said, "I am sorry, Darcy. I find it surprising that Miss Elizabeth refused you because of Miss Bennet, but then again, perhaps I am not; the sisters are very close."

"There were other reasons. One was my pompous, arrogant, asinine behavior. The other had to do with George Wickham, and he is the reason that I must rush to London."

"Wickham! I know that you and he are on poor terms, but I never heard details."

"He is a rake, and a reprobate, and most regrettably, he convinced the youngest Miss Bennet, Lydia, to run off with him from Brighton only a few days ago. He doubtless promised her marriage, but Miss Elizabeth is under no delusions. Wickham will only marry an heiress, and the Bennet daughters, as you know, are not well dowered. Thus, the entire family is facing disaster, and I am painfully aware that if I had dealt with Wickham when I should have, this would never have happened."

Bingley stared at him in horror. "Miss Lydia has run away with a man who will not marry her?"

"Not without a significant bribe, no. I intend to travel to London as soon as I can, and solve this situation in some way. It is the least I can do, given that I knew what Wickham was, and remained silent while in Hertfordshire."

"Is there anything I can do to assist?" Bingley asked simply.

Darcy smiled, even as he felt his chest relax. He knew that Bingley was angry with him, but his friend had always been a forgiving sort who easily set aside outrage in favor of being helpful. Darcy, regrettably, had quite an opposite sort of character and clung to his prejudices and ill temper, along with finding it nigh impossible to forgive others for their faults.

"I do not believe there is anything you can help with in London," Darcy said. "As to other matters – well, that is very much up to you. I know you cared deeply for Miss Bennet last autumn, but now…"

"I never stopped loving her," Bingley interrupted and sighed sadly. "I am at fault in this matter; I should have listened to my own heart instead of to you and my sisters. I was confident that she cared about me, and I let you sway me into believing I was wrong."

Darcy did not know what to say to this, so he remained silent for a minute as his friend cogitated.

"In any case," Bingley finally said, lifting his chin and straightening his shoulders. "I would like to help in some way. Perhaps I could return to Netherfield and stand as a friend to the family in the midst of their difficulties?"

"That would most kind," Darcy said hesitantly and then turned to gaze directly into his friend's blue eyes. "You realize, I hope, that if Miss Lydia is not safely wed in short order, the other Bennet daughters will be tainted by her actions, including the lady you love."

"I do not care about that," Bingley replied immediately, "so long as she truly loves me. Indeed, after Caroline and Louisa's actions, and my own, she may never wish to see me again, in which case I shall withdraw from the field. But I know that Miss Bennet is a virtuous and honorable woman, and I would be privileged to make her my wife. Perhaps that sounds absurd, but that is how I feel."

"It is not absurd in the least," Darcy said quietly. "I love Miss Elizabeth and have hopes of winning her hand, and I will not be dissuaded by the foolish behavior of her very young sister."

Bingley grinned at these words. "So perhaps, if we are fortunate, we will be brothers someday."

"Yes," Darcy replied, and for a moment, there was such hope, such longing on the man's face that Bingley was taken aback. Darcy, for all that he was a close friend, rarely showed much emotion.

"If you do intend to go to Netherfield," the master of Pemberley continued, his face now calm again, "I would suggest that you do not bring your sisters with you. Miss Bennet was doubtless hurt by Miss Bingley's dismissal of their friendship, and the family is, of course, dealing with a serious problem. The last thing they need is your sisters treating them disrespectfully and engaging in harmful gossip."

"An excellent point," Bingley agreed, his jaw clenched. "Do I have your permission to tell my sisters that you confided in me about Miss Bennet's time in Town a few months ago?"

"Yes, certainly."

"Thank you. I will send a letter to Darcy House once I have made plans. Will you keep me informed of your progress regarding Miss Lydia?"

"I will most certainly keep you informed, I promise."

/

The Road to Hertfordshire

An Hour Later

The cushions of the hired carriage were clean and in good repair, and the carriage itself well sprung. Elizabeth swayed as they passed over a bump in the road, her pensive gaze not moving from the window. The fields and hedgerows outside were lush and green, fields of ripening wheat rippling in the sunlight and flowers dotting color across the pastures. Sheep trotted up to the fence to watch the carriage roll past, and contented cows chewed their cuds as they gazed at nothing in particular.

Elizabeth's heart sat ill at ease, and yet not as heavy as it could have. Even as she could scarcely comprehend the ruin Lydia had brought on them all, her mind kept circling back to the compassion on Mr. Darcy's face as he assured her of his continuing admiration and affection. She did not think, really, that there would be anything he could do to save them from utter ruin, but it gratified her to know that he even would try. If he was in earnest that his respect and love would not abate due to the idiocy of her youngest sister…

Oh, her ill-fated sisters! Poor Jane! Left alone to deal with their mother's vapors, with Mary's withdrawn uncertainty, with Kitty's confusion and whining. At least their father was, blessedly, in London, searching for his wayward youngest and the scallywag who had run off with her. Elizabeth could not imagine that his presence at home would help matters. But it was not fair that unfortunate Jane should have to handle the entire remaining family members alone, and Elizabeth silently urged the horses and carriage faster that she might return the sooner to her home.

"How are you doing, Elizabeth?" Mrs. Gardiner suddenly asked.

Elizabeth looked up to see both her aunt and uncle gazing gravely at her, and she managed a shaky smile. "I am incredibly upset about Lydia's situation, of course, but I find myself somewhat hopeful as well, as Mr. Darcy has promised to travel to London and help find Lydia and Mr. Wickham."

Her older relatives exchanged quick glances, and then her aunt said, "My dear Elizabeth, it is obvious to us that you and Mr. Darcy are far better acquainted than we realized."

Elizabeth felt herself blushing furiously and lowered her gaze onto her ungloved hands. "I ... yes, well, the truth is that when I was visiting Charlotte Collins in Kent a few months ago, Mr. Darcy, erm … he made an offer of marriage to me."

Mrs. Gardiner gasped loudly and even her husband choked in surprise, which provoked their niece to look up, embarrassment written large on her face. "I refused him, of course. I was angry about his treatment of Mr. Wickham and his role in separating Jane from Mr. Bingley. I am still unhappy about the latter, but regarding the former, well, Mr. Wickham is a rascal and a villain, for all his fine speeches and pretty ways. He was paid three thousand pounds to give up all rights to the Kympton living, the one that the elder Mr. Darcy set aside for Wickham."

"Three thousand pounds!" Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed. "A princely sum!"

"Yes, and there was an additional one thousand pounds from Mr. Darcy's father's will, so four thousand pounds, and then Wickham went away and spent it all foolishly. He later returned and demanded the living when it fell vacant. Given Wickham's dissolute character, Mr. Darcy had every right and reason and, indeed, responsibility to refuse him. He would be more of a wolf than a shepherd for the people of Kympton."

"And then Wickham slandered Mr. Darcy to everyone he met," the elder lady said, shaking her head. "I had no idea, my dear. Indeed, I thought Wickham an excellent young man."

"As did I, of course! I championed him, and spent time with him, and even wondered whether I was in love with him, and it turned out ... oh, I am so angry at myself! I ought to have told someone of Wickham's nature when I returned from Kent, but I was afraid of saying too much. I imagined that since he was leaving the district, there was no reason, especially as few would believe me. He really is tremendously charming..."

She trailed away and found herself crying again, from sorrow and anger – at herself, Lydia, and Wickham – and anxiety about the future. It seemed impossible that Mr. Darcy, nephew of an earl, would make a second offer to a woman whose family was plunged into a most hideous scandal, but when she remembered the look in Mr. Darcy's eyes and the gentleness of his expression...

Well, she could only wait, and pray, and hope.