Elizabeth Bennet’s Secret Protector

by Barbara Leyton

They separated then and he willed the moments to pass until they came together again.

  ‘I was reflecting on the last time we spoke.’ He blurted the words out, not trusting himself to utter them at all if he allowed himself time to reconsider.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Were you?’

  He had expected her to tease him or to make some witty remark. Her silence left him wrong-footed. ‘Yes, I was,’ he said hopelessly. Darcy was an eloquent man, but that had always been on the subject of politics or land reform. Not on matters of the heart! He feared he did not even possess the vocabulary necessary to say what he must now say.

  But I must try, damn it! he thought feverishly. For what good is restraint and prudence if I walk away from her tonight never to see her again? My life would be far less enjoyable as a result, surely!

  That settled it for him. ‘Yes I was,’ he said seriously. ‘And I must own that I was unsuccessful in getting across my utter…’

  A piercing sound shattered the gaiety in the room. He looked around in bewilderment. His first instinct was to finish what he was saying, but he could not as the crowd surged this way and that in utter panic and she was pulled away from him before he knew it.

  It was only then that he realised what was happening. A woman was shrieking at the top of her voice that there was a fire. He looked around frantically to identify the source of the voice or the location of the fire, but he could not. He moved in the direction it was coming from, but his progress was prevented by a sea of people who were desperately trying to move in the opposite direction.

  His heart hammered. Where was Bingley? He could not see through the crowd.

  He turned, thinking to shout at the attendees to leave the room so that everyone might be counted and deemed safe. A moment later, he realised that was what they were all doing of their own accord. He flattened himself against the wall and watched the crowd, hoping for some sign of Bingley. By now Miss Elizabeth had disappeared and though he felt considerable regret at her departure, he was relieved that she was at least safe.

  Finally, the crowd began to thin and Darcy was able to move back towards the interior of the house.

  ‘Charles!’ he shouted, looking around. Mercifully there was no smoke yet, but he knew these things could escalate within seconds.

  He looked around to see his best path of escape before he proceeded.

  ‘Charles!’ he screamed again. ‘Are you there? Come on, we must get out!’

  He pushed through the door at the back of the room and found Bingley in the hallway.

  ‘Come on, man! We must get out of here and distance ourselves.’

  ‘I cannot find the fire, Darcy. I must find it and put it out. I…’

  ‘No you must not,’ Darcy said, gripping his friend’s arm and dragging him down the hallway and back towards the ballroom. ‘Not at the risk of your life.’

  ‘But if I do not put it out, who will do it? We are in the middle of town. There are houses attached to this one.’

  Darcy’s stomach lurched. It was late now and no doubt there were people in the neighbouring houses who were fast asleep and unlikely to hear the commotion. ‘We shall alert them, Bingley. Come. We shall bang on the doors and tell them they must get out. Then there will be time to see about the fire.’

  They hurried out. A crowd had gathered on the other side of the narrow street, arms tightly crossed over their chests in a vain attempt to protect themselves from the night-time cold. Darcy scanned their faces but could see no sign of her as he ran past.

  ‘Move away,’ he roared. ‘You must all move to safety.’

  He hurried in one direction and Bingley took the other, banging their fists on the grand front doors of Bingley’s neighbours until servants were roused to answer.

  It was only when they had cleared out the two houses on either side that Darcy stopped and looked around, frowning as he did so. Bingley’s guests had mostly taken heed and moved away or returned home, so that the only ones standing around were mainly neighbours in shawls and nightgowns. He could barely see them in the darkness.

  The darkness was what confused him. There was no light from the flames, which he knew should surely have intensified by now. He stopped what he was doing and moved slowly back to Bingley’s house.

  There was not a sound coming from it now, since all of the servants and guests had moved outside. He met Bingley’s manservant on the steps leading to the glossy black front door.

  ‘There is no fire, sir. The young lady must have been mistaken.’

  Darcy looked around, aggrieved beyond measure.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘Jane, come on,’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘For all the world knows, you are my married sister and it is only right and proper that you walk with me in the park to prevent me going alone.’

  Jane laughed. ‘But I am not married. I do not wear a ring and anyone who knows us will know that.’

  ‘Oh, please. I cannot very well go walking alone.’

  ‘I would be happy to walk with you but we ought to ask Mama to accompany us.’

  Elizabeth sighed and lay back against her pillows. A mere three days had passed since Bingley’s ball, but it felt like weeks or even months. Her frustration was intensified by the fact that she could not avail of her favourite means of calming her mind when it was in turmoil. It was simply not as enjoyable when her mother had to accompany her on her walks. Mrs. Bennet did not take such pleasure from nature as her second daughter and was wont to complain ceaselessly as soon as she grew bored, which was quickly and often.

  ‘Come on, Jane. Who knows who you might meet.’ She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

  It was a sneaky tactic—after all, Jane had hardly stopped talking of Charles Bingley since they came away from the ball after the mysterious fire curtailed the evening’s festivities.

  She felt a pang of frustration. There had been something in Darcy’s eyes directly before the alarm was raised—she was sure of it.

  ‘Are you suggesting we go there to his home?’

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘Of course not. I do not even know where it is.’

  Jane stared at her, brow furrowing in a way that Elizabeth did not often see. ‘Of course you do. It is on Anne Street. Not even a week has passed since we attended the ball there.’

  ‘Ah yes, of course.’ Elizabeth had been thinking of Darcy, not of Bingley.

  ‘Are you feeling well? It is unlike you to forget such a thing.’

  ‘I am quite well.’ She sighed. ‘The only thing I lack is fresh air. I feel positively stifled in this house, like a bird trapped in a cage who can only watch the goings on from the window.’ She stood up and paced to the window. She was beginning to rival Lydia for her dramatics, she knew, but she could not shake the very real sense of frustration that had plagued her since the night of the ball.

  ‘But Lizzy, you were set against walking alone because you believed—quite rightly—that it might reflect poorly on you and cause Mama to be talked about.’

  ‘I know,’ she said miserably. She knew it well but she was also at the end of her tether.

  How she hated being powerless to act!

  He had a sister she might call on, but for the fact that she had never met the girl and it would be unusual to do so.

  Blasted fire, she thought mutinously.

  Walking outdoors had always been a way for her to reflect and gather her thoughts. Without that outlet, she felt lost and far from clear-headed.

  ‘What if we walked to the park in the square,’ she countered. ‘It is not like walking in Hyde Park.’

  ‘No,’ Jane said firmly, ‘it is even worse Lizzy. Only the neighbours hold keys and they all know we are both unmarried.’

  ‘Yes, but what does it matter?’ Elizabeth stopped and sighed. Of course it mattered. And she could not help but recall how dull their weeks of seclusion from society had been. Elizabeth might not care much if people gossiped about her, but she had keenly felt the fact of the absence of invitat
ions to balls and other social events that formed the bulk of the social calendar in London during the season. She would not bring that on them again.

  Then she thought of something. It was so inspired that she wondered why she had not considered it before. ‘We ought to call on Miss Bingley and ensure she is not too shaken up after the fire.’

  Jane frowned again. ‘But I thought you had little interest in her friendship, Lizzy. In fact, if I recall correctly, you told me she was an insufferable bore whose intentions towards you were perfectly clear though unspoken.’

  Lizzy smiled. ‘What a wonderful memory you have for my less charitable statements, my dear sister. Well, perhaps I was mistaken.’

  ‘You are not often mistaken.’

  ‘Jane, dear, however distasteful I find our Miss Bingley, there is one fact we must consider and it is this: she is your Mr. Bingley’s sister.’

  Jane flushed. ‘He is not my Mr. Bingley.’

  ‘No he is not, and that is mainly to do with that fire interrupting the ball than anything else, I suspect. He appeared extremely fond of you.’

  ‘Oh, now you are just being kind. He was being polite; that is all.’

  ‘My dear, you are being far too modest. He was loath to dance with anyone else after he had danced two sets with you—people were whispering about it at every step!’

  ‘Then I had better not give them more to whisper about. His sister would surely see through our intentions if we were to call on her. We did not even speak to her after we first arrived at the ball, Lizzy!’

  ‘That is because she spent most of the evening glaring at me with utter contempt despite her effusive greetings when we entered the house. But that is beside the point. We must go there and enquire after the welfare of our dear friend.’

  ‘Lizzy, I would sooner walk in the park with you without our mother.’

  Lizzy jumped to her feet. ‘Well then that is what we must do! Perhaps we ought to return here the long way, taking in Anne Street as we do.’

  ‘You are incorrigible, Lizzy!’ her sister groaned, smiling as she did so. ‘That was not a declaration of my intent to do either.’

  ‘Very well,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Well, perhaps I can think of a compromise. I feel as if I shall lose my senses if I remain indoors a moment more, so let us send for the carriage and go visit our aunt on Gracechurch-street. I take it that would be agreeable to you?’

  She smiled. Of course, she would instruct the groom to take the more circuitous route.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Darcy paced the library of his London home for what must have been the tenth time that day. He typically did not have any trouble sitting for hours at a time and concentrating on the volume he was reading, but he had found it impossible to sit still and focus his mind since the ball at Bingley’s.

  It was maddening. He had finally determined to confess his true feelings to Miss Elizabeth and at the exact moment he had tried to do so, some foolish young woman had somehow gotten it into her head that the building was on fire. Which it had never been—they had determined this after an exhaustive search of the house. Of course, at that point it was too late to return to the matter at hand, for Miss Elizabeth was long gone.

  He stopped at the window and looked down at the street below. Oh how he longed to see her walk past so that he might rush out and have it seem as though their meeting was nothing more than a fortuitous encounter. He knew it was highly unlikely even as he thought this. After all, what business would she have on his street?

  He had thought about wandering the streets close to hers—after all, he knew the house—but he had decided against it. He had no reason to be there and the chances of simply encountering her were so small that there seemed little sense in bothering.

  If only her father was in residence so he might call on him under some pretext or other! But he was not and that was the cause of Darcy’s predicament.

  Georgiana was in Pemberley with her companion, but even if she had been in residence in the London house he would have been hesitant to prevail on her to call on the Bennets. She was not out in society yet and it was not the done thing. Nor would he have done so even if she was at an age where such social calls were appropriate—he loved his sister dearly and could not bear the thought of using her as a pawn in his attempts to court Miss Elizabeth.

  Inspiration struck him then as he recalled the night of the ball and Bingley’s reluctance to dance with anyone other than Miss Bennet.

  He was hurrying down the steps and onto the street a short while later.

  * * *

  ‘Ah, Darcy! What a pleasure it is to see you again so soon!’

  He smiled. They were dear friends and they lived not half a mile apart, but Darcy was not the sort to seek company every hour of the day and evening. He typically saw his friends once a fortnight at best, and that was when he had no estate business to attend to with his lawyers.

  ‘Bingley it is good to see you too. Have you been well?’

  He sat in front of his friend’s desk, relieved to find the man alone in the house. He might have checked to be certain, but refrained from doing so. It was never wise to ask after a man’s unmarried sister, no matter how close one was to him.

  Bingley sighed in a way that was most unlike him. ‘Well, I suppose.’

  Darcy was alarmed. From anyone else that might be a normal response, but from Bingley it was equivalent to declaring himself truly and utterly defeated by daunting circumstances. ‘Whatever is the matter? Has something happened to your sister?’

  ‘Heavens no, though she is part of my problem.’

  ‘Do explain, dear friend. Perhaps I can help you.’

  Bingley pouted. ‘I do not think it is possible. You see, I thought my sister might indulge me and call on the Bennet sisters. She is acquainted with them you see and… and…’

  Darcy smiled and shook his head. ‘Do not be embarrassed to say it. You cannot very well present yourself at their door but your sister can. And then they shall feel obligated to return the call.’

  ‘Yes, that is exactly it,’ Bingley muttered as he turned rather pinkish.

  ‘There is no shame in it. You are not the first fellow to engage his sister in such tactics.’

  ‘No, I am not,’ his friend replied morosely. ‘But I am the rare fellow whose sister refuses to indulge his simple wishes.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean? I thought you said they were acquainted.’

  ‘They are, they are. But Caroline simply refuses.’

  ‘On what grounds?’

  Bingley sighed. ‘On the grounds that she would really rather not. I do not know why, but she truly appears to have taken against the Bennet sisters and it is a shame. They are kind and wonderful and…’

  Darcy’s attention waned as he recalled the day of the ball and numerous days before that when he visited his friend and found Bingley’s sister in attendance, smiling and preening as if… as if…’ his eyes shot open in horror.

  ‘What is it, Darcy? You look as though you have just seen a ghost.’

  Darcy glanced at his friend and winced. He could not very well share the terrible conclusion he had just made. Not when it concerned his friend’s sister.

  But to him it seemed clear. The explanation fit. She had been there on the night of the ball and she had certainly sought to make herself agreeable to Darcy. He wondered if he was being vain in concluding that, but then another fact presented itself to him. He had heard her speak on a few occasions of her dear friend Alice. He had not thought much of it at the time for he was not acquainted with Lord Henry’s sister, but he recalled it now with a growing sense of horror. It was none other than Miss Bingley who had gone to such lengths to cut Miss Elizabeth and her sisters off from society and she was no doubt the one who had cried fire when she feared her brother and his friend were becoming too close to the Bennet sisters.

  He frowned. ‘I have just recalled something a friend told me. Nothing to concern yourself with, my friend.’

/>   ‘Ah,’ Bingley said, shaking his head. ‘I hope it is not something that shall cause you to take you leave so soon. You must stay and eat.’

  Darcy looked around. ‘Perhaps I can speak to your sister and attempt to change her mind.’

  On hearing this, Bingley laughed gaily. ‘Ah, you may try but Caroline’s mind is not usually for turning once she has decided on something. She is not here, in any case.’

  ‘Well I shall try,’ Darcy said quietly. ‘When does she return?’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Miss Caroline Bingley returned to her brother’s house within the hour, as it turned out. Darcy had spent that hour in pleasant conversation with his friend, though the chat mostly concerned the elder Miss Bennet and not her closest sister. He did not feel as comfortable disclosing his innermost thoughts as his friend did.

  Now he bided his time. Miss Bingley entered the library and he was perfectly pleasant to her. It was not until they were called for lunch and Bingley excused himself that Darcy made his move. He cleared his throat loudly and the servants present hurried from the room.

  ‘Mr. Darcy,’ Miss Bingley simpered, turning to him from her position at the fireplace. She tossed her hair in a way he presumed was designed to entice, but that he simply found irritating. ‘If I were the sort to create conspiracies in my mind, I might conclude that you wished to tell me something so scandalous that even the servants could not overhear.’

  ‘No,’ he said plainly. ‘I was concerned only for your dignity when I sent them away.’

  She flushed and smiled coquettishly, and then she must have interpreted the look on his face. Her smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, Miss Bingley,’ he whispered, taking a step closer so that he could keep his voice low and ensure they were not overheard by anyone, ‘ that I have lately learned of your frightful conduct towards Miss Bennet and her sisters and I would not wish for anyone else to learn of depths of your malice.’