Chapter 38

Darcy paced his study, upset, restless, and confused. He could admit that his response to Pennywithers’s words had been out of proportion to the circumstances. When news had reached him of his cousin’s abrupt departure from the dower house—with a half-packed trunk and without his batman-turned-valet—he had been deeply upset. The earl’s refusal to take his son’s feelings seriously—yet again—had further perturbed him. But Elizabeth’s defence of the gossip-monger had pushed him over the top.

Everything in his life was going wrong.

Did no one care that his cousin, on his very first intentional foray into Lambton, had become a spectacle? Could not everyone allow him to be left alone, to feel his way carefully out into the public eye at his own pace? Why would no one worry, as he did, about Richard’s welfare or about where he could possibly have gone?

What he ought to have done was seek out Ridley and together, they could have come up with a plan. When Lord Matlock read the column, he held an opposite view to Darcy’s own. What did I expect? Pennywithers had done for the earl what no one else could have done and made his son into some sort of national hero—just what the old man had always wanted. It is not fair, forcing a disregard of Richard’s wishes so completely!

Still, Darcy could admit that his disgust of newspapers in general, and newspapermen who published gossip in particular, was likely excessive, due to his personal experiences. Does Elizabeth know of my reputation and how it has been tarnished in town? She evidently reads these sorts of papers, as many do. But if so, could she not see how I have been abused by them?

Or does she believe, now more than ever, in the truth of those published lies?

With a sinking feeling, he acknowledged the true source of his temper—his raw, fierce disappointment when he saw the look of horror on Elizabeth’s face as he and the earl had entered his library, unexpectedly startling her. It had confirmed every one of his fears. She was disgusted by him, regretting the kisses which had meant so much to him.

He scrubbed his hand through his hair and, deciding he had better find Ridley, turned to leave, only to stop short when the study door crashed open and Georgiana stormed in.

“Brother, you must talk to her,” she cried. “She cannot go, and especially she cannot leave on the post! Please! She must have misunderstood!”

“What is this about?”

“Elizabeth! Her things are packed, and she means to leave on the post. You cannot allow it.”

It was a punch to his already sore gut. He briefly shut his eyes. “No, of course she cannot travel post.” He sighed heavily. “I will have Frost take her wherever she wishes to go, and send one of the maids with her.”

“No!” Georgiana looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “Tell her it is a mistake. Tell her you do not mean any harm to Mr Pennywithers. Please, Fitzwilliam. She does not yet understand you, or she would know that you would never hurt another person, especially one so unknown to you.”

“Forget Pennywithers. He has nothing to do with any—” he started to explain, when yet another young lady entered through the wide-open door of his study.

“It has everything to do with Mr Pennywithers,” Miss Bingley interrupted, a smile of unmistakeable triumph upon her face. “Mr Darcy, I possess important information that you must hear without delay. It has to do with the gossip-writer, Mr Pennywithers, whom I could not help but happen to hear you just now discussing. It pains me to even mention him, and were it not for the most disgusting information come to me only recently, I never would.”

“You need not bother!” Georgiana cried.

Miss Bingley paid her no heed. “Mr Pennywithers is closely related kin to the Bennet sisters. Miss Bennet admitted it to be true, within my hearing.”

Darcy’s brows raised, astonishment filling him.

“Persons possessing such low associations have no right to stay in your home, of course. I am sorry you have been thus deceived,” Miss Bingley cooed, her eyes sympathetic. “Miss Elizabeth apparently maintains the closest ties with him! I would not be surprised if she were dishonourably feeding information to him about you and your sister and?—”

Georgiana turned a furious expression upon her. “She has more honour in her little finger than you possess in your entire body! Just how did you hear this? I would guess she did not tell it to you directly.”

“Mr Darcy?—”

But he had heard enough. Disregarding them both, he hurried from the room, with but one goal in mind: searching out Elizabeth.