Chapter 2

2

M rs. Bennet was a wreck. Mr. Bennet was a little better.

For the first time, Darcy appreciated that Bingley was able to isolate his affection for his wife without consideration for her family. Jane Bingley’s calm countenance and easy smile were the opposite of her mother’s. Mrs. Bennet’s histrionics and Mr. Bennet’s lack of response irritated Darcy. He wanted to depart less than a minute after he arrived.

No, he would not leave! He was ashamed of himself. How dare he criticize two individuals who just lost their firstborn. Had he no empathy? Was this how Bingley would have acted?

At his request, the housekeeper summoned only Mr. Bennet. Nevertheless, his wife and three daughters must have heard the urgent call because they rushed into the drawing room, their dressing gowns thrown over their night clothes.

“Mr. Darcy, you must have heard about our dear Jane.” Mrs. Bennet patted her cheeks dry with the handkerchief balled in her hands. Her hair poked out of her nightcap. He never remembered Mrs. Bennet looking so disheveled. She looked much older than the last time he saw her, too. At Bingley’s ball, she flitted from matron to matron, gleefully spreading gossip. Even with five nearly grown daughters, she had appeared younger than her peers. Now, her face was drawn and pallid, eyes red and swollen. “I would not have thought it of you, sir, being as you never favored any of my girls. Nor did you attend the wedding although Mr. Bingley considered you to be a friend at one time. But here you are, an act of kindness, I suppose, although you could have waited until proper visiting hours to express your sympathies.”

After a glance at Mr. Bennet, realizing the man would not say anything until Darcy shared the purpose of his visit. Darcy bowed his head, seeking the right words, words that succinctly but kindly shared the news that would add sorrow to their already burdened hearts.

“Charles Bingley was in a riding accident earlier this evening. He did not survive.”

That was all he could come up with? Dear god! Although he was not known for his warmth, his statement was nothing less than callous.

Mr. Bennet’s reaction mirrored that of his own when Mrs. Nicholls had told him. Squaring his shoulders, Darcy’s eyes rested on Miss Bennet’s mother.

She sobbed until her body shook, eventually collapsing against the sofa where she sat. Then, she wailed, “Those poor babies. What will happen to them without a mother and father to care for them? What are we to do without Mr. Bingley securing our future?” She leaned over and grasped her husband’s arm. “What will happen to us now? Mr. Bennet, without Bingley, who will take care of the babies now? Who will take care of us?” She shook his arm violently.

Ignoring his wife, he stood to leave the room.

Ill at ease witnessing their reactions, Darcy withdrew to the door. He wanted to run from Longbourn, but before he left, he stopped Mr. Bennet. “Sir, I understand your grief. However, arrangements must be made.”

Mr. Bennet waved his hand like he was brushing a speck of dust from his jacket. “Do as you please.”

Instantly offended, Darcy stepped to the side, not wanting to spend a second more in the same room with him. The heartless brute!

His anger almost blinded him to the tears pooling at the corner of Mr. Bennet’s eyes. The man was not indifferent at all. Instead, he was trying to act as normally as possible. Darcy’s irritation vanished since he was trying to do the same.

As the mantel clock struck ten, Darcy asked Mr. Bennet, “Shall I send over servants from Netherfield later in the morning to prepare a grave next to Mrs. Bingley, or is this something that can be done here?”

Bowing his head, the man said, “My daughter and son-in-law should rest together forever.” He added, his voice quivering, “I shall send a note to the rector. That would give Mr. Bingley’s family enough time to arrive and pay their respects, should they desire.”

“Thank you.” Darcy squeezed Mr. Bennet’s shoulder in a moment of understanding. He had yet to inform Bingley’s sisters so their husbands could travel to Hertfordshire for the funeral. London was an easy distance even in winter unless there was heavy snow. An express would need to be sent. Hopefully, they already planned to travel to Netherfield for the birth of the children .

Stepping back inside the drawing room, he reluctantly sat across from Mrs. Bennet, looking into her glassy eyes. She whimpered. “I am a grandmother, you know.” Her lips moved barely into a semblance of a smile. “The loss of Jane…well, I am not as strong as Lizzy. I have been unable”—her hand fluttered—“I understand that you have a sister, Mr. Darcy.”

“I do.” He wondered what she could mean by asking about Georgiana.

“While I am sure that you would never have this situation with your ten thousand a year, imagine, please, if you would, that you lost it all. Everything in your account is gone. Would not the care of your sister’s future become your greatest priority?”

Without hesitation, he replied, “It would.”

“Jane was my ten thousand a year. Our ten thousand a year. She was not so beautiful for nothing, Mr. Darcy. No, she was destined to become the wife of a wealthy man with a heart brimming with compassion who would see her sisters taken care of until they wed. Mr. Bingley was such a man. Oh, you are likely not the romantic sort, but to see them together, especially after she became with child, Mr. Darcy, it lightened my heart to have my daughter cherished by a good man. Now that they are gone, I have nothing, not even hope.” She sobbed. “You see, Lizzy is too headstrong, Mary too righteous, and Kitty coughs incessantly. Only with Lydia is there any possibility of success on the marriage mart. Yet, I simply cannot do without her. I cannot let her go. My losses have been too great.”

Darcy had nothing to say. For the first time since their introduction, he sympathized with the matron of Longbourn and only now understood her motivation. He could not condemn her for looking out for her own interests. Darcy recalled the excruciating pain of losing his father, and, like Mrs. Bennet, he had worried how Gerald Darcy’s passing would affect his future.

“’Tis a sad, sad day, Mr. Darcy. A sad day.” Then Mrs. Bennet called for her servants. “I shall send Hill with you to Netherfield Park, sir. Although I trust Mrs. Nicholls, as Longbourn’s trusted housekeeper, Mrs. Hill has cared for all our girls since their birth. I have complete confidence that she will manage the babies. That way, Lizzy might have a little relief.” She fell back against the sofa. “If only I were strong like Lizzy, but I am not.”

He waited while the housekeeper assisted Mrs. Bennet to her bedchambers. Reflecting on Mrs. Bennet’s words, Darcy was surprised by her layer of reason, albeit a thin layer.

As soon as their mother vacated the room, the two youngest of Elizabeth’s sisters responded to the news of their brother-in-law’s demise with little more than a shrug.

The youngest, Miss Lydia, whined, “Does this mean we have to wear this horrid black even longer?”

Miss Mary said, “Yea, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”

Miss Lydia snorted inelegantly. “You may not fear evil, Mary Bennet, but we will be shunned if our neighbors see us wearing color before we are supposed to. I merely want to know how long until I can wear the pretty pink ribbon I bought two weeks ago.”

“You are a selfish creature,” Miss Mary proclaimed.

“You are a creature, that is for certain,” was Miss Lydia’s quick reply.

The housekeeper halted the ruckus. “Girls! It would be best if you went to your rooms. I am off to Netherfield to help with the babes. You should expect visitors once the news is out about poor Mr. Bingley. You will want to look as fine as possible in your mourning weeds.”

As soon as the girls left for their rooms, Mrs. Hill put on her heavy coat and joined Darcy in the carriage. With a flick of the reins, they were on their way to Netherfield Park. To Elizabeth .

The trip back to Netherfield Park was made in silence.

Trudging up the staircase, Darcy would have given his fortune for a glimpse of Miss Bennet. Pausing on the landing, he leaned heavily on the banister. Like Bingley, she was light to his darkness, joy to his sorrow. Except, her hurt must be a living, breathing thing.

A thought so out of character flitted through his mind, tapping gently at his heart. He longed to hold her, to wrap his arms around her, transferring his strength to her as a gift of his regard.

Rubbing his eyes, he continued up the staircase, scoffing at his fancy. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was a lady of impeccable dignity. She would likely slap his face at his audacity.

Turning the corner, he saw her. She sat on the floor in the corridor, her back against the wall. Her eyes closed as sobs shook her.In the glow of the candle, she appeared as fragile as an apparition. But he knew that she was real.

Lord in heaven! There was no way on earth he could withhold comfort to one as deserving as she.

Lengthening his stride, he reached her side only to sit close enough that his shoulder brushed hers.

She leaned into him. Was she even aware that it was him? It mattered not. Reaching for her fingers, the tips were wet from her tears. With a gentle tug, she collapsed into him, her head tucking under his chin, soaking his cravat as she wept.

His heart responded before his mind became alert. She was not the only one who was tired. Darcy pulled her closer. She felt so good in his arms. A perfect fit.

He ached for her. She likely spent every spare moment with the twins. Inherently he knew she would give her all for anyone she held in affection.

If only his reaction had been more open when she walked three miles from Longbourn to Netherfield Park through the mud to care for her sister when they were first acquainted. At the time, Miss Bingley may have condemned her for her soiled petticoat and blowsy hair, all of which escaped Darcy’s notice. Instead of joining in Miss Bingley’s censure, he should have openly expressed his admiration like Bingley had done.

He was finished with failing Miss Bennet. From then on, he would be her champion. When she burrowed closer, he had hope.

His iron heart, the one that in the past refused to consider her as worthy, melted into a puddle at his feet, one drop at a time. Every ounce of his admiration for her kept him strong. He would do everything he could for her and the twins, be everything he could be for her…for them. Leaning his cheek against her soft curls, he drew solace as his arm wrapped tightly around her. They would make it through this challenging time, and they would do it together. With her in his embrace, he finally felt at home.