Chapter 53

Darcy invited the earl into his library after breakfast the following morning. The polite world would want to mock Elizabeth for her relations, and while she could certainly hold her own, he did not want her to have to fight every step of the way. The earl’s approval was one battle he could fight for her.

“I want you to be the first to know: Miss Elizabeth Bennet has accepted my proposal of marriage.”

The earl was quiet for a long moment.

“It was the chess game, was it not?” he said at last. “But the girl’s relations, Darcy! I hear there is both a solicitor and a scribbler on the family tree!”

“Her father was a gentleman, and she was brought up a lady,” Darcy said quietly. “I hope you noticed that much.”

“Yes, yes, nothing wrong with her or her sister on that score. They will not embarrass you.” He rubbed his chin. “My father told me never to marry a clever wife. Told me it would be the death of my happiness if I did. I did not listen, and never regretted it. Of course, my lady brought an admirable dowry, along with her brains. I expect you could have found a wife both rich and clever, had you made the attempt.”

“I have more than enough wealth. I had to work like the very devil to convince Elizabeth to say yes, and I will thank you to never bring up the difference in our fortunes. She agrees with you on that score, and I will not have it thrown in her face by my own family. You might warn your wife and sister that I will not tolerate any disrespect.”

The earl raised his hands in mock surrender. “Now, now, let us not be so touchy. I am glad you have decided to marry at last. Time to get to work on that nursery, boy! Lady Matlock will be happy as well, once she accustoms herself to the idea. She will know just how to present your lady to the ton. She worried you might choose the Bingley girl. Miss Elizabeth is certainly an improvement over her.”

It was as good an acceptance as he could expect. In time—and now that he would pay particular attention—Darcy had no doubt that his uncle would come to respect and even love Elizabeth. He did not mention Miss Bingley’s transgressions—they were appalling enough that he did not want her shame to fall upon Bingley. It was time to take care of that now, too.

He was very pleased with the outcome of the conversation, yet it was with dread in his heart that he took a courteous leave of his uncle, and had Bingley called into his study.

“She did what?”Bingley cried, alarm and disbelief in his voice.

Darcy handed over the letter written, plainly, in Miss Bingley’s loopy, flowing hand.

Bingley studied it incredulously. “This is madness! That she should spout such nonsense! That she would tell a reporter anything about you, anything at all—it is beyond the pale! Lies! Lies and insult!” He stood, pacing rapidly around the room, as he only did when most deeply upset.

“I am grateful that you believe they are lies. Perhaps she does not.”

“How could she believe anything else? Darcy, she knows you! She knows your sister! What could she have been thinking? She knows Pennywithers is kin to the Bennets. This Pennywithers knows, obviously, that the Bennet sisters are great friends of yours. What did she think he would do—publish lies about a family friend? If she did somehow come to believe such nonsense, and find it necessary to inform the press—which is all ridiculous, regardless—how could she be such a little idiot, not to have expected anything except that Pennywithers would turn over any correspondence to you directly?” Bingley was nearly tearing his hair out in frustration and mortification.

“I have proposed marriage to Miss Elizabeth. She has accepted. Pennywithers has offered to retire from writing, so that no hint of their kinship ever comes to light.”

The day before, after receiving Elizabeth’s acceptance of his proposal, Darcy had offhandedly asked, his man, Harwood, if he had ever heard of Mr Pennywithers before Richard’s mention in the Herald—not really supposing that he had. To his surprise, he learnt that the writer was, apparently, something of a hero to valets everywhere; Harwood even possessed a scrap-book of every one of his past columns. Naturally, since Darcy’s own cousin had been immortalised by the man, Harwood did not think it at all odd that Darcy should wish to peruse them. Thus, late into the night, he had read every single one—some more than once.

It was a fascinating look into Elizabeth’s mind. She had a keen eye for fashion, a cynic’s interest in politics, and how she had come to learn so many details about the inner doings of the highest circles—of which she could not have been a part—he would never know. There was nothing of maliciousness in any of it, but her sense of the ridiculous was acute—and she laughed most at any who attempted to make a mockery of others, standing up for those who could not stand for themselves. There was a goodness about the column—the same goodness Elizabeth possessed in abundance. After reading all of what she had written, he was more in love with her than ever. If Pennywithers was to retire, he must encourage her to find other outlets for her obvious talent, her creative mind. She wrote as an outsider looking in on what was, truly, a strange world indeed—but with a brilliant blend of compassion, understanding, and wit.

Bingley stopped pacing in his astonishment. “Marriage! Darcy! Why, this is the best news!” But he immediately sobered. “I cannot assume, however, that I have the right to offer my congratulations. My sister’s treachery may have convinced you to drop our connexion. I cannot blame you if it is so.”

Darcy gave him a wry look. “Our future wives would not care for that, I am certain, if you still intend to marry Miss Bennet.”

Bingley briefly closed his eyes. “Darcy, my sister has behaved horribly towards you—a man who has done nothing the last decade but help her, and all my family. I have done nothing except think about how happy I would be to have Jane as my bride, without once considering the household I would bring her into. Jane has mentioned, gently, once or twice, that she does not think Caroline approves of her. I can only imagine what she has already endured at my sister’s hands.”

He looked so horror-struck that Darcy could do nothing except offer comfort.

“Neither of us realised just how far into the unacceptable your sister has drifted.”

“I wonder now if that hit to Miss Elizabeth, during the shuttlecocks-and-battledore match, was the accident she said it was.”

“Perhaps not. I suspect your sister intended Elizabeth to be the one inebriated by the liqueur-laced lemonade,” Darcy admitted. “I also suspect that it was she who locked Elizabeth in the attic during the treasure hunt.”

“What? Darcy…you have believed her guilty of such things, yet never mentioned a word of it to me?”

“I have no proof for any of those offences. I have known her for many years, and never seen such a wilfulness in her. But now this.”

Bingley finally sat, heavily, scrubbing his hands through his already rumpled hair. “I know, I know.”

“She cannot, of course, remain at Pemberley. She is no longer welcome here, in my home, near my sister or my future wife. I strongly encourage you to protect your wife-to-be from her mischief, but of course, you must do as you see fit.”

“No, no, she cannot be allowed to continue on her current path,” Bingley said, looking utterly at a loss. Darcy felt a bit sorry for him—but if Bingley was determined to be a husband and, it was to be presumed, a father, it was time he found his own way. Still, he was only a year Caroline’s senior; at his age, Darcy would have had little idea how best to deal with such a sister.

“I expect your relations in Scarborough might be eager to win your approval,” Darcy added, giving him a clue. Bingley’s relations were salt of the earth, sensible folks, prosperous in trade but unpretentious.

To his credit, Bingley straightened and nodded, apologising once more. Clearly, he did not expect Darcy to manage the situation for him. Nevertheless, there were things Darcy must say, so that Miss Bingley heard them from his own mouth and believed in the consequences to follow.

“I will wish to speak to her before you take her away,” he said.

“I shall order her belongings packed and my carriage brought round,” Bingley replied. “If you will excuse me for a few moments, I shall return with her immediately.”