Chapter Twenty-One

T he day after their excursion to the museum, Elizabeth picked up her sewing from the work basket and moved to a corner of the quiet back parlour of Carlisle House. Jane sat across from Mr. Bingley, her hands folded in her lap and her expression solemn. Mr. Bingley, for his part, appeared anxious and confused, one deep line furrowing near the bridge of his nose.

"Miss Bennet," he began, his voice earnest, "have I done something to offend you? If so, I apologise most sincerely and beg your forgiveness."

"No, Mr. Bingley, you have not offended me. But after our visit to the museum, I must ask what role your sisters play in your life."

"My sisters?" he inquired, flummoxed.

"Yes. Miss Bingley in particular, as she is unmarried."

"Well . . . they are my sisters. Caroline will likely live with me once I purchase an estate, which I hope to do in the next year or two. That is, if she does not wed first, but she has set her sights too high, and I fear will wait until the man she would like to wed has married someone else. She has no chance with him but will not admit it. "

"Forgive me, Mr. Bingley, but I now have two additional questions. My first is to inquire why would Miss Bingley live with you and not her sister?"

"I am responsible for her."

"I see. And does she expect to be your hostess?"

Mr. Bingley chuckled. "I dare say she does, but she will see that cannot be. If I marry, my wife will be mistress."

Jane's voice sounded hopeful. "You will speak to your sister about her role?"

"She will not listen," Mr. Bingley said, "but I will make the attempt."

"I see."

"You said you had two questions."

"Yes. The second is why would you allow Miss Bingley to waste her time waiting for a man to wed another before setting her on a better course to her own happiness?"

"Caroline has always gone her own way, Miss Bennet. I try to make her happy, but it is an impossible task. You will see as you learn more about her. Sometimes it is just easier to allow her to go on as she will."

Elizabeth glanced up to see Jane shake her head, a sad smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Miss Bennet, have I answered your questions to your satisfaction?"

"You have, Mr. Bingley. But now I fear I must be honest with you about my reservations regarding our courtship, if that is what this is."

"Of course it is," Mr. Bingley said. "Why would you doubt it?"

"Because you have never named it as such," Jane reminded him.

His lips parted, and his eyes widened. "Please, Miss Bennet, tell me what troubles you. I will do whatever I can to ease your concerns."

"It is not something so easily done," Jane replied, meeting his gaze. "I have come to realise that I need a husband who is strong. He must make it abundantly clear what his wishes are, and that they cannot be altered. For example, a man who is silent when an insult is tendered allows the person who uttered it to believe him in agreement."

"Miss Bennet, I assure you, I am more than capable of leading my family."

"Perhaps you are capable. But are you willing?"

Mr. Bingley shifted in his chair. "I do not understand."

"I am afraid we heard your conversation with your sisters at the museum, Mr. Bingley. I would apologise for eavesdropping, but your voices did carry."

"At the museum?" Mr. Bingley asked weakly.

"Yes. You did not speak up to support me or our courtship, Mr. Bingley. You said you cared for me, but clearly that did not matter to your sisters, and you did not feel it important enough to be forthright with them."

"But I can be forthright," Mr. Bingley said. "You do not understand my sisters. Sometimes it is just easier to allow them to think I agree and act the way I always intended without informing them."

Jane sighed. "I am sorry, Mr. Bingley, but that is precisely the problem. Easier is not necessarily better. You are not insisting that your sisters allow you to make the decisions that will determine your own happiness. By remaining silent, you allow them to persist in the belief that they are in charge, not you. And I cannot help but worry that you might allow them to have their way when it is easier if you have a wife whose needs and desires are not so stridently demanded."

Mr. Bingley clasped his hands together and leaned forward as Jane began to speak again.

"My own childhood was marked by the constant pressure to conform to my parents' wishes, often at the expense of my own happiness and well-being as well as Elizabeth's. I cannot bear the thought of entering into a marriage where I might face similar challenges. "

"Miss Bennet, I give you my word, I would not allow my sisters or anyone else to dictate our future together. You are the most important person in my life." He took her hands in his.

"I suspect you believe that Mr. Bingley, and I want to believe it too." Jane gently extracted her hands from his. "But I think it best that we take some time apart. If you find that you can manage your household in a way that any woman would be pleased to be your wife, perhaps then we might resume what we have started here. However, I cannot in good conscience continue just now. And if you find that you are, in the end, happier being released from a woman who requires so much from you, I shall not begrudge you finding a woman more to your liking."

Mr. Bingley's shoulders slumped, and Elizabeth felt some compassion for him. Perhaps he was simply too young to be seeking a wife just now, but he was essentially a good man.

He stood. "I respect your decision, Miss Bennet, and will do all in my power to prove to you that I am worthy of your love and your trust."

Jane shook her head, about to protest, but Mr. Bingley was quick, having already bowed and turned for the door.

Elizabeth put down her work and came to sit next to her sister.

"I did not mean to set him a task, Lizzy. For he may not be able to succeed, if his temper is simply too obliging."

"Think of it this way, Jane," Elizabeth said with a little sigh. "It will be good for him to be denied something he wants, and even if he is not successful with you, it may help him be successful with another lady in the future."

"I do not want him to be successful with anyone else," Jane said quietly, one tear trailing down her cheek. "I want him to marry me. But I cannot do it, Lizzy, not under such circumstances. I need a man who will support me like Mr. Darcy has you. "

"I do not think you and Mr. Darcy would do well together, dearest," Elizabeth teased.

"Heavens no. He is too intense for me. But despite your first meeting, he would not allow anyone to denigrate you now, not even before he asked to call on you."

"It is not a great deal to ask of Mr. Bingley, Jane," Elizabeth assured her. "You were right to tell him what you did. For whether or not he is able to become the man you described, you know what you need to be happy, and you were honest with him about it."

"Yes," Jane said, closing her eyes. "I only wish being honest did not hurt so much."

The dining room at Matlock House was elegantly appointed, the table set with gold-rimmed china and gleaming silverware. Everyone was arranged as properly as possible with the preponderance of men, the visiting countess with her host and the earl with his hostess, Lady Penelope across from her father and next to Lady Henrietta, Darcy and his Fitzwilliam cousins in between. Darcy felt a bit de trop, but Fitz had wanted him here. His cousin felt that Lady Penelope would make a scene, and Lord Matlock must have felt the same, for he had instructed Lady Henrietta to keep the guest list to just the Blackwells.

As the soup was served, Lady Blackwell leaned backward, her posture and oily tone exuding self-satisfied calculation.

"I must say, Lord Matlock, it is good to return to town."

"We are pleased to have you here among us," Darcy's uncle said genially.

"Yes, the girls have always been such good friends," she said, almost humming .

"Their friendship has been one of long standing," he agreed, lifting his wineglass to his mouth and taking a sip.

"As has our friendship, eh, Matlock?" called the earl of Blackwell from his position at the other end of the table to the right of Lady Henrietta. It was not a large table, in deference to the small numbers, and so he could not be said to be shouting. "Do you remember when we convinced all the first-year boys that the hall in the west wing was haunted by the ghost of Old Hammond?" He paused, then added, "Old Hammond was a former headmaster."

Lady Blackwell's eyes creased at the corners.

"Poor little Barty Roberts refused to go near that part of the building for weeks. We had to bribe him to keep him from telling the masters why he was entering his classroom through the window." Darcy's uncle picked up his spoon and dipped it into his bowl.

"What about when we replaced all the Latin primers with Greek just before exams?"

This elicited a smile and a chuckle from Lord Matlock. "Everyone was confused. Even the professor could not determine what had happened." He addressed the table. "We managed to switch them back just in time to avoid being caught."

"Ah, but it was a very near thing."

The stories came one after another, and Darcy listened smugly, knowing that whatever the countess wished to say, she was being forced into patience. And Lady Blackwell was not a patient woman.

They were past the soup and into the main part of their meal before her husband stopped speaking to eat for more than a few moments, and the lady began again.

"I heard something from my daughter that has surprised me, Lord Matlock," she said. "Quite thoroughly surprised me, I must say. "

"It is a difficult situation to find oneself in," Lord Matlock replied gravely, "when a daughter can so severely surprise her parent."

Lady Henrietta said nothing, but Darcy thought she shrank a little in her chair.

After a brief hesitation, Lady Blackwell started again. "You pretend not to understand me," she said.

"We understand," Lord Blackwell said with a sigh. "We only wish you would stop. But as there seems to be no way to accomplish that without causing you an injury, perhaps you had best continue so we may be done."

"You are unkind, sir," the countess said, clearly not in the least affected by her husband's disapproval. "I simply wished to say that it is peculiar that Miss Elizabeth Bennet has become such a fixture in Lord Matlock's social circle. I do wonder at it, and I am not the only one."

Darcy stiffened.

Lord Matlock sighed, placed his silverware down with exaggerated care, and turned to offer Lady Blackwell his full attention.

Lady Blackwell smiled thinly, her voice dripping with a false sweetness. "I am aware she has become something of a sensation. But as my daughter has suggested, one must wonder whether her heroics might not be a bit too . . . neatly timed."

A soft groan floated over the air from Lady Henrietta's end of the table.

"Perhaps you do wonder," Lord Matlock said. "But I do not." He picked up his fork and returned to his food.

Lady Blackwell's mouth fell open, and Darcy knew this could not be all.

"My mother has made an excellent point," Lady Penelope said firmly. She glanced around the table. "Can you not say that she always happens to be in the right place at the right time to play the saviour? "

"Twice over the course of four years is far from always," Fitz said. "And as Darcy and I witnessed the most recent incident ourselves, I can assure you that there was nothing contrived about it."

Darcy did not speak until he was certain he could do so without causing his uncle embarrassment, but he could not remain silent for long. "I assure you, Lady Penelope, there is nothing calculated about Miss Elizabeth 's character. I cannot always say as much for other ladies of the ton."

"We are all aware of your . . . position on Miss Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy," Lady Blackwell replied, feigning a kindly concern. "It is impossible to move in town at all without hearing the story. Forgive me, but you may not be the best judge of this particular situation."

The earl shared a single look with Lord Blackwell before he set his silverware down once more and turned his full attention to the countess.

"Lady Blackwell," he said quietly, "I thank you for your concern."

"You are welcome, my lord. I am as sensible of the credit of your family as anyone might well be, you know, due to our long association."

"Indeed," Darcy's uncle said. "And it is due to the respect I have for your husband and our long association that I shall answer your concern. Pray attend me, ladies, for I will speak on this once, and then never again. I may, however, act . Are you listening?"

The table fell silent. Darcy watched his uncle anxiously.

The earl's words were calm, but no one could misconstrue his warning. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet is a friend to this house, as is her sister. And that is all I mean to say on the subject."

Georgiana had supped on her own this evening as Darcy had not wished to expose her to the Blackwells. By the time dinner at Matlock House was completed, she was already abed. While he was sorry to miss bidding her a good night, it did allow Darcy, Fitz, and Milton to repair to the billiards room at Darcy House to play a few games and enjoy a drink after a very trying evening.

"So you asked the incomparable Miss Elizabeth to allow you to call?" Milton inquired, lining up his shot.

Darcy smiled. "I have."

"What did she say?" Fitz asked.

"Look at him. He never smiles, but he is gloating now," Milton scoffed. "Besotted fool. She shall have him at the altar before the end of the season."

"Will she?" Fitz asked, eyeing Darcy.

"Stop right there," Darcy said firmly. "I will not give you a wedding date so that you can take advantage of wagers at the club." He lined up his shot and sank one ball in the corner pocket.

"She did say yes, though?" Fitz asked.

Darcy rolled his eyes before he straightened and assessed the rest of the table. "She said yes."

"Lucky dog, you," Fitz said. "After the whole family tree incident, I would never have guessed she would forgive you, much less allow you to court her only two months later."

"I am only calling at this point."

"Because you were unsure she would agree to any more," Fitz stated.

Darcy and Milton stared at him.

"What?" he asked. "You know I am correct."

Milton snorted. "He has you there, Darcy. Abominable beginning. As you will not offer me the benefit of a wedding date, I shall enjoy taking wagers at the club as to how you will do and how long she will keep you dangling. She may have accepted you only to humiliate you, you know. "

"I think we all know enough of Miss Elizabeth's character to know she is incapable of that sort of ploy."

His cousins murmured in agreement.

"We know that," Milton said with a grin, "but not everyone else does."

"It is too early to mention this to anyone outside of the family, gentlemen. I will not have you frighten her off. I have much to make up for."

"That is the most intelligent thing you have said in ages," Fitz muttered.

"And you, Milton, will not wager on Miss Elizabeth's integrity," Darcy warned. "It would call your own into question."

Milton snorted. "Why are you so staid? It is as though you have never realised you are young and wealthy. Here, pour me another glass."

Darcy had just finished refilling Milton's drink when there was a discreet knock on the door. He passed the brandy to Milton and opened the door to reveal Mr. Yardley standing outside.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Bingley is here, sir."

"Bingley?" Whatever was Bingley doing here at this time of night? "Show him in, Mr. Yardley."

The butler hesitated, casting a glance in the direction of the front door and then back at Darcy.

"What is it?"

Mr. Yardley frowned. "He has been imbibing, Mr. Darcy."

Bingley did not often drink to excess, and when he did, he certainly did not visit his friends. He went home. But then, his sisters and brother had returned to town, and home would mean listening to their complaints whilst in his cups.

"Show him in, Mr. Yardley. And ask the kitchen for coffee."

"Very good, Mr. Darcy. "

A few moments later, Bingley was striding into the room, his cravat slightly askew and the top button of his waistcoat undone.

"Darssy, my good man!" He blinked owlishly when he realized that they were not alone. "I do hope I am not interrupting anysing . . . anysing . . . important."

"Are you quite all right, Bingley?" Darcy asked.

"No!" Bingley nearly shouted before finding a chair and collapsing into it. "I need advisse."

"How is that different from any other day?" Fitz asked. Milton laughed.

Bingley pointed at Fitz. "Zzzactly. But sis is diff . . . diff-rent. I need to know how to be"—here he punctuated each syllable with a jab of his finger—"com-MAN-ding."

Darcy sighed. Someone had obviously put a bug in Bingley's ear. "Whatever for?"

Fitz crossed his arms over his chest and stood up as tall as he was able, which was still a few inches shorter than Darcy.

"Commanding, you say?"

Bingley's bleary gaze swung over to Fitz.

"You are in the right place," he said. "Who better to ask than a colonel in the British Army?"

"Nooo," Bingley groaned. "Darssy. He hass ssisters. I mean, a ssister."

"We have a sister," Fitz said, smiling. "Perhaps you have heard of her? Lady Henrietta Fitzwilliam?"

"Ohhh, thasss right. And isss sha . . . sha . . . she ssweet like Misss Darssy?"

Milton began to laugh.

"Cousin," Darcy remonstrated.

"Please," Milton said, waving at Bingley. "It is as though the children found their nanny's flask. Tell me you are not having trouble maintaining your composure, and I shall think you made of stone. "

Milton had been laughing at his sister, not Bingley, but Darcy let it go. Despite his suspicion that Lady Henrietta was at last comprehending that her actions had not been above reproach, she was not his to protect, certainly not against her own brothers. She had put herself in a position of being laughed at, and that was no one's fault but her own.

"Sstone," Bingley said, nodding. "My sissterss heartss are sstone. They have been hounding me about Misss Bennet. Ssay to break it off. But it wass Misss Bennet who broke . . . broke—"

"Oh, ho!" Fitz exclaimed in astonishment. "Miss Bennet broke with you? Because of your sisters?"

"Sstupid sissters. Think they know . . ." Here Bingley made a wide, sweeping motion with one arm. "All."

Milton pretended to commiserate. "It is the eternal struggle of the younger brother, right Fitz?"

The colonel glowered.

"Fear not, Bingley," Milton said, leaning back in a chair and crossing his legs. "We are here to assist. What did Miss Bennet say?"

Darcy placed his cue back in the rack. "Gentlemen, Bingley clearly has come to speak with me, not open himself to your questionable counsel."

"He seems to have partaken of some questionable counsel already," Fitz jibed.

"Pleasse," Bingley moaned. "I have to win her back. She doess not think I am ssstrong enufff."

"Ah," Darcy said, everything becoming suddenly clear. "Your sisters warned Miss Bennet off, then?"

"Worsse. Sshe overheard heard them inssult her and I did not resspond, jusst let them talk."

"Definitely an error on your part," Milton said, and Fitz nodded in agreement .

"How did you know?" Bingley asked, holding his head in his hands. For a moment, Darcy was afraid Bingley was going to be unwell all over his floor, but then his friend craned his neck to look up at him and repeated, "Darsssy? How did you know?"

This time, all three men chuckled. "It is not difficult to divine," Fitz said. "You roll over like a log in a flooded river whenever they are about. No woman wants to be with a man like that."

"But they make it ssooo hard. Ssooo angry. I juss let them talk and then do what I will."

"Bingley," Darcy protested mildly. "That is not precisely true, is it? You give them their way with great regularity. We have spoken about this in the past."

"Bingley," Milton said, contemplating his brandy, "you must stand tall, like a tree that has some actual roots. It is your household, is it not?"

"Hursst. Hiss housse."

"Well, there is your first problem," Milton said with a nod.

Darcy agreed. "You need to leave Hurst's house and lease a place of your own, somewhere a woman could see herself living when in town. Even if you lease a different home every year, a woman who is considering whether to marry a man should have a place where she is mistress. You cannot expect her to fight for the privilege that ought to be hers by right."

Bingley swayed a bit. "House first?"

"That would be my advice, yes," Milton said.

"And once he has a house, he will need to stand up to his sisters in some dramatic fashion," Fitz said.

"He is not to stand up before he has a plan of escape?" Darcy asked, amused.

"A good soldier plans every detail before engaging the enemy, including retreat," Fitz replied with a mischievous smile .

"How do I do it?" Bingley asked breathlessly. His eyes were wide, and they were trained on Fitz.

Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps this ought to wait until you are sober, Bingley."

As if on cue, a maid came in with the coffee, poured out a cup for Bingley, and then waited to see whether any of the other men wished for one. Darcy shook his head at her, and she hurried out.

"Drink your coffee, Bingley," Darcy instructed.

"Yes, and while you do that, please attend," Milton said, waving his hand as though tapping the table with a pointer.

Milton could be rather theatrical when the situation offered itself, but it was always entertaining. Darcy found a seat and made himself comfortable.

"The first step," the viscount said, "is to master the art of the stern gaze. Darcy is an artist in this regard. Observe." He took a dozen mincing steps in Darcy's direction and then whirled and bent over at the waist, flipping up his tailcoat and offering Darcy a full view of Milton's skinny arse.

Darcy growled.

Fitz laughed. "There—that is it, the look! Do you see, Bingley?"

Bingley nodded eagerly and Darcy turned his glare on Fitz.

"See, Bingley? Darcy's stare has frozen me like the Thames before an ice fair," Fitz teased. "We should have a painter in to capture that look for you. You can practise it in your glass each morning. Here, try it now."

Bingley stood unsteadily, spilling a bit of his coffee on his lap in the process. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, nearly losing his balance and falling on his face.

"Oh no," Milton said, still bent over and shaking his head. "That will not frighten anyone, Bingley. You only look as though you require the necessary. "

Darcy placed the sole of his shoe on Milton's rear and shoved, sending his eldest cousin staggering forward. He ran into Bingley, who was knocked back into his chair.

Milton picked himself up, dusted himself off, and smiled brightly at Darcy.

Fitz chuckled. "Let us begin again, Bingley." He held out his arm to Bingley, who grasped it just below the elbow and was immediately pulled up to his feet. "You must project an air of authority. Stand tall."

Bingley tried.

"Chest out."

Bingley tried.

Fitz assessed him. "Speak in a firm, unwavering voice."

The voice that issued forth from Bingley was a startlingly good impression of Darcy's. "Caroline, Louisa, I demand that you cease your meddling in my life. I am my own man and not yours!"

Even the slur was gone. But it was nothing Darcy would ever say. This struck him as incredibly funny, and he joined his cousins in laughing so hard he had to wipe the tears from his eyes when they were done.

"My stomach hurts," Milton gasped.

"Civilians," Fitz sneered. His brother punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow," Milton said, shaking his hand out.

Fitz's expression was unbearably smug.

"A good effort, Bingley," Darcy said, still attempting to assist his dejected friend. "But perhaps a bit much. You do not wish to be thought a fool. Be firm, but not overbearing. Always the gentleman, but never so polite that you are in danger of being considered a milksop."

"But first, the lease," Fitz interjected.

"Of course," Bingley said. "A man must be king of his castle. "

Darcy nodded and lifted his glass. "For a man's house is his castle, et domus sua cuique est tutissimum refugium."

Fitz strode over to lift his own glass in a toast. "And each man's home is his safest refuge. Well said."

"God bless old Sir Edward Coke," Milton added.

Bingley just stared at them all.

"Coffee beginning to help?" Milton said drily.

"I cannot be the king of my castle when there iss no castle," Bingley said slowly, with only a slight lingering slur.

"Precisely!" Milton exclaimed. "You do not want to be the court jester, you want to be"—he paused, waiting for Fitz to take a sip of his brandy, and then lifted his own glass. "Bing the King!"

The brandy Fitz had been drinking suddenly filled the air before him in a fine mist.

Darcy sighed. Good French brandy was not available anymore, and he hated to waste a drop of it. He handed Fitz a handkerchief.

Emboldened by his success, Milton snatched the rack from the billiard table and placed the triangular piece of wood atop Bingley's head. "There. Your crown, my liege."

"Take that off," Darcy said, moving to do just that, but Bingley stopped him by holding up a hand, palm out.

"I will be a king. Will you help me find a lease?"

It was well past the beginning of the season. Everything decent was likely to be gone, but there were always a few families who had to depart London before the end of the season and would not mind selling theirs. "Very well, Bingley," Darcy said. "But for now, I think you need another cup of coffee and a bed." He rang for Mr. Yardley and asked to have a guest room readied for his friend. As Bingley often stayed at his club, his family would not worry. "Just take that thing off your head. "

Fitz removed it, placing it next to the cues where they hung on the wall. "On that note, Darcy, I think I shall take Milton off to his bed."

"Off to my bed? The night is still young, brother!"

"Not for me," Fitz said. "I am again called to Whitehall. We shall see whether the general waits for me to arrive this time."

"Good evening, cousins," Darcy said.

"You are both dullards, you know that?" Milton complained. "I was not nearly finished with Bing the King."

"Better a dullard than a fop, brother," Fitz said. "Come on, now."

Bingley wished them good night, distracted and still not entirely clear-headed.

"Darcy," he said sombrely, when they were at last alone, "do you think I have any chance at all?"

"I cannot say. Has Miss Bennet given you any hope?"

"Sshe has not turned me away irrevocably, but . . ."

Darcy frowned as he thought about what Miss Elizabeth needed from a suitor and whether it was not something her sister would desire also. "Bingley, I will preface this advice with a caveat: After what has transpired this season, you know I am not the best man to ask for advice about your courtship. But it seems to me that the most important thing is to show the woman you love that she can trust you. Respect and admiration—even love—may follow, but first they must have fertile soil in which to grow. If Miss Bennet is the woman you love, you must show her she can trust you to always put her first."

Bingley hiccoughed so loudly that Mr. Yardley popped his head into the room. "Did you call, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy's smile was strained. "No, Mr. Yardley."

"I am going to be the king, Misster Yardley!" Bingley announced.

The butler did not bat an eye. "God save you then, sir."