“Ah.” Mr. Bennet had behaved largely as Darcy had feared, but, upon reflection, the annoyance of telling him had been well worth securing Elizabeth as his ally. His more optimistic friend had likely expected a different outcome—it was no wonder Bingley was so upset.
“We told him that Wickham is a danger, and he practically laughed at us!” Bingley snapped.
Darcy considered. “He does not have the certainty that we do. He believes his younger daughters to be of no consequence, or perhaps too young for such dangers, and he trusts his older daughters.” He sighed. “I do not want to absolve him, but I might have behaved similarly if someone had warned me regarding Georgiana. She was but a child in my mind. If he sees his younger daughters similarly . . . .”
“It is no excuse!” Bingley bit out. “He still has a responsibility to protect them. How he could fail to provide for them in the event of his death and refuse to protect them now is—beyond imagining!”
“I agree that he has not treated his family as he ought,” Darcy said evenly. “However, when one is trapped by their flawed perception of life, it is difficult to see clearly. I have some experience with that as you know.”
Bingley’s jaw rippled as though he were clenching his teeth to keep words shut inside his mouth.
Darcy had rarely seen his friend so upset. If circumstances aggravated him sufficiently, Bingley could lose his temper, but his good humour won out in most situations.
“He left Miss Bennet and Miss—all his daughters—to live in misery after his death. He does not deserve your understanding.”
“No, he does not,” Darcy agreed. “But, then again, who does deserve understanding? Bingley, as I have told Miss Elizabeth today, I was lost in my pride and selfish disdain, so accustomed to their presence that I could not see them. Miss Elizabeth’s mercy in speaking the truth to me was what allowed me to become a better man. I believe we ought to offer Mr. Bennet the same mercy—not because he deserves it, but because he needs it to become a better person.”
Bingley slowed, slumping. “You are a better man than I, Darcy.”
Darcy clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You have never needed such rough mercy, my friend.”
Bingley sighed. “What will we do?”
“We will protect our ladies,” Darcy said and gestured towards their waiting horses.
Apollo was slow to leave, apparently waiting for Elizabeth to join them, but eventually, Darcy managed to point him towards Netherfield.
“But how will we protect the ladies, Darcy?” Bingley asked after they were away from Longbourn.
“I do not know. I intend to send an express to my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, as soon as we return to Netherfield and to send for corroborating evidence of Wickham’s transgressions from my secretary and housekeepers. Other than that?” Darcy shrugged. “I do not know,” he repeated helplessly.
“We could ask to court Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley suggested. “It would give us grounds to interfere if an issue arises.”
“True. However, I am uncertain whether Miss Elizabeth will accept a courtship yet.”
Bingley frowned. “I am not certain Miss Bennet will accept a courtship either. She is kind to me, but I cannot tell if her heart is engaged.”
Darcy smiled. “I do not know if her heart is yet engaged, but I know that it was Before. Miss Elizabeth said that her sister was enamoured with you by the time we left at the end of November. It is now the 19th of November. If you continue on as you did Before, she will certainly accept a courtship by the day of the ball—if you still intend to hold it.”
“But of course! I promised. I cannot go back on a promise. Besides, it will be jolly good fun!” Bingley sent him a sideways look. “You do not disapprove, do you?”
“Not at all, Bingley. It is your house after all. Indeed, I shall look forward to dancing with Miss Elizabeth.”
◆◆◆
Darcy steeled himself for an evening of being polite to all and sundry—possibly even to Wickham should Mrs. Philips not have heeded Bingley’s warning. Although perhaps the evening would be less trying than attempting to maintain civility towards an increasingly desperate Miss Bingley. She had ranted about the audacity of such a woman inviting them to a gathering—after all, “she was just the wife of a solicitor,” to which Darcy had replied that he was staying with the children of a tradesman so he did not see an issue. His riposte had only momentarily silenced her, however, and she had continued voicing her complaints all through yesterday evening and this morning.
Penn had been cautiously optimistic, believing Elizabeth fully capable of planting helpful gossip. As a result of his impeccable information gathering skills, he had been as unsurprised by Mr. Bennet’s inaction as Darcy had been but agreed that speaking to the older gentleman was worth the price of gaining Elizabeth’s sanctioned support.
Though it had rained earlier in the day, the sky was now clear and the roads passable despite the steady drips that came from the surrounding trees. Darcy and Bingley alighted from the carriage and knocked at Mrs. Philips’s door.
“Oh, good evening!” Mrs. Philips called as a servant ushered them in, a smile wreathing her face. “I am so pleased you could come!”
Both men bowed.
“I have invited the officers to dine with us tonight, although my sister tells me there are some who are less worthy than others. Perhaps your information about Mr. Wickham is accurate after all, Mr. Bingley.”
“As I said, the details are not mine to share, but I believe it wise to treat Mr. Wickham with caution; I only hope that the young ladies of Meryton are as wise as you are, Mrs. Philips,” Bingley said earnestly.
Mrs. Philips preened under his praise, then eyed Darcy curiously.
“Thank you for your invitation,” Darcy said. If he could convince this woman—one of the foremost gossips in Meryton, according to Elizabeth—that he was not the man he had been at the assembly (or that he had been poorly judged), word would spread.
“You are most kind,” Mrs. Philips said, a slight flush on her cheeks.
“Not at all,” Darcy said. “It was kind of you to invite us on such short notice.”
“My nieces have not yet arrived, however, I believe you have been introduced to Mr. Denny who is already here.”
“Yes, we have had that pleasure.”
“My husband often has dealings with the officers, so we are fast friends with many of them,” Mrs. Philips said.
“How fortunate for all of you!” Bingley cried. “I am certain the officers find Meryton one of the friendliest spots in all Hertfordshire—I know that I do. And true friends make any situation more bearable, whether one is in the army or living in a town.”
Mrs. Philips beamed at him. “Meryton is a very friendly place indeed! I have lived here for many years, and I am certain I cannot imagine ever leaving. When my husband retired here from London, I was not sure how I would adjust to the slower pace of life, but we have found it much to our taste.”
“You were in London?” Darcy asked politely. “That is quite the change of pace.”
Mrs. Philips bobbed her head emphatically. “Yes, I—”
A knock sounded, and Mrs. Philips hurried them into the sitting room with an apology before returning to greet her next guests.
Mr. Denny and several other officers stood in one corner of the room having a lively discussion. Bingley steered Darcy towards the group and hailed the men familiarly.
Though they had dined with the officers prior to Miss Bennet’s illness Before, the event had made little impression on Darcy and he found he could not recall the substance of any conversations from that dinner. Several of the men eyed him as though catching sight of a snake, however, which did not harmonise with his vague recollections from the past. Either they disliked him due to his prior disdain or Wickham had already been at work.
“Mr. Darcy,” a broad-faced man greeted him. “May I offer you some port?”
“Mr. Philips,” Darc
y said with a nod. “Yes, thank you.”
“Need something to fortify ourselves for the evening ahead, eh?” Mr. Philips said as he handed Darcy a glass.
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Do you anticipate a trying night, Mr. Philips?”
The man chortled. “When is it not a trying night with females about?” He gave Darcy a sly look. “Although you young men may not agree with me. I have heard you escorted my niece about Meryton yesterday.”
“I did,” Darcy admitted, suppressing a blush. He scrambled for another conversation topic. “Mrs. Philips says that you have many dealings with the officers. How do you find them?”
Mr. Philips gave him a shrewd glance. “I find them as I find all men—the good and the bad all jumbled together.”
“I hope you have not had difficulties since they arrived.”
“One does not go into the law to avoid difficulty,” Mr. Philips said, waving the thought aside.
“True. Is practicing law in Meryton very different? Mrs. Philips said you relocated from London.”
“Indeed! The cases are much simpler and rarely require more than drawing up papers for my clients. I—” Mr. Philips broke off as women’s voices filled the air. “That’ll be my nieces, and more than you will be wanting to greet them. In the drawing-room, lads,” he called.
The men dispersed to greet the ladies who were already seated in the drawing-room along with Mr. Collins and Mrs. Philips. As Darcy entered, Mr. Collins was enthusing over the grandness of Rosings. How had he introduced that topic, and why? Ah, the man was now comparing Mrs. Philips’s drawing-room to the summer breakfast-parlour at Rosings.
The group stood, and the officers rushed forward to claim the younger two Bennet sisters. Bingley hastened to Miss Bennet’s side and Darcy forced himself to walk towards Elizabeth with measured pace. The two younger girls responded by preening while Miss Bennet blushed and Elizabeth merely looked entertained by the young men’s antics.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said, bowing over her hand and flashing her a smile.
“Mr. Darcy,” she returned, her dimples peeping out.
“Your aunt has a charming room,” Darcy teased.
“Very like your aunt’s, or so I am told.”
Darcy pretended to inspect the room. “Rather nicer than my aunt’s, I expect,” he said dryly. “This room looks as though one might sit on the furniture without incurring anyone’s wrath. Nor would I expect to see it in a museum.”
“You prefer furniture that is not museum-quality?” Elizabeth asked.
Darcy leaned forward. “I prefer furniture that is designed for comfort rather than for show,” he said conspiratorially.
Elizabeth chuckled. “Mr. Darcy! How can you say such a thing!”
“Easily.”
“You continue to surprise me. Perhaps your light-heartedness does not need the amount of exercising you believe it does.”
Darcy smiled at her. “Or perhaps you bring out the best in me,” he said quietly.
Elizabeth looked down and flushed. “Perhaps.” She glanced around the room. “Is Mr. Wickham here? I spoke to Mama, but I do not know if it will affect our party tonight.”
“I have not seen him yet.”
She squared her shoulders. “Well, we shall have to see how he behaves if he decides to attend.”
“Indeed.”
Elizabeth shook herself, then flashed a smile at him. “It is a very wet night,” she said gravely.
“It is. I find that moisture generally falls as snow this late in the year when I am up north, however, I suppose rain is more common in Hertfordshire?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, we do not have snow until Christmas at least.”
“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Philips concurred as she bustled past. “I do hope you will stay to see the snow!” she called back as she joined another group.
“Do you intend to remain at Netherfield for long, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.
“I am at Bingley’s leisure. I shall remain as long as he desires me to or until Christmas. I must return to my sister to spend the holiday with her.”
“Oh, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Collins said as he rushed over. “You must forgive me for my tardiness in attending you. I was occupied in greeting our gracious hostess and neglected you shamefully. I sincerely beg your forgiveness.”
“Mr. Collins,” Darcy said, suppressing a sigh. “No forgiveness is necessary.”
“You are most gracious—as I would expect from a nephew of the esteemed Lady Catherine. I was just telling Mrs. Philips how very like the summer breakfast-parlour at Rosings this room is. Do you not agree?”
Elizabeth coughed quietly behind her hand.
Darcy suspected she had turned a laugh into a cough and was tempted to drag her into the conversation but forbore. “Mrs. Philips’s drawing room is very pleasant,” he said diplomatically. “And how are you finding Hertfordshire?”
The question launched Mr. Collins into a rhapsody of praise for the locale, his cousins’ house, his cousins themselves, and the neighbours.
Through it all, a mischievous twinkle glimmered in Elizabeth’s eyes, and Darcy’s heart warmed to see it. Even speaking to Mr. Collins was rendered enjoyable due to her amusement.
When Mrs. Philips got out the card tables, Darcy waited until Mr. Collins agreed to play whist and then declined taking part in favour of playing a game of Lottery with Elizabeth and her youngest sister. If someone had told him a year ago that he would enjoy such an evening, he would have thought them mad. As it was, he had more fun than he’d had in many a day. Even Miss Lydia seemed more childlike in her enthusiasm and less like a spoiled young lady. Whether that was due to Elizabeth’s influence on her or his enjoyment of Elizabeth’s presence, he did not know.
“Do you know what the current gossip is regarding Wickham?” Darcy asked Elizabeth in an undertone while Miss Lydia was occupied with counting her fish. He was both curious what rumour she had spread and concerned that Wickham had begun some rumours of his own; the officers had remained uneasy tonight, and Darcy frequently found their eyes on him over the course of the evening.
“I believe my mother rushed to town today to inform my aunt that some officers had an unsavoury reputation and that Mr. Wickham was very likely one of them,” Elizabeth replied quietly. “I do not know if Mr. Wickham’s absence tonight is because she did not invite him or because he did not choose to attend.”
“Did your mother give specifics?” he murmured, mindful of Miss Lydia’s presence and Mrs. Philips’s keen observational skills.
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Why, Mr. Darcy, one would suspect you of being unpracticed in the art of propagating gossip. Specifics are the death knell for a good tale. Much better to use insinuations and to let the listener believe what they may.”
“Ah. I bow to your superior experience.”
“As you should,” Elizabeth said with mock hauteur. She frowned. “I do not know how the gossip may have grown between then and now.” She hesitated. “Has something happened with the officers? They seem ill at ease.”
Darcy nodded gravely. “I have noticed their preoccupation, however, I do not know the source.”
Their conversation came to an abrupt end as Miss Lydia demanded they pay attention to the game.
At the end of the night, as Darcy was taking his leave of Elizabeth, she mentioned that she hoped the rain would not keep her from her regular ramble on the morrow.
“Do you have a favourite route?” Darcy asked her, always eager to learn about her and piqued by the possibility of more time with his beloved.
“I have many cherished paths, but I often climb Oakham Mount. Though I am certain the views are not what you are used to, they are some of my favourites.”
Before Darcy could ask whether she would object to company, their respective parties’ farewells interrupted them, and everyone left for their homes.
Chapter 18
Apollo shifted into a gallop as Darcy gave him his head. The morning mist lay t
hick upon the ground in places, and the sun peeped over the horizon, giving the whole landscape an unreal quality. At Rosings, Before, Elizabeth had told him of her favourite walks. He had believed her to be signalling her interest. Only later, with her denunciation ringing in his ears, did he realise she had intended to warn him away. So it was with a certain amount of trepidation that he steered Apollo towards Oakham Mount.
He did not believe that she would desire his absence, however, he could not be certain. Her response the night before might have been naught but a polite answer. Or it may have been an invitation; he banished the thought from his mind immediately. He had been so very wrong Before, and he could not bear to believe her enamoured with him now and once again be proved wrong. He could not bear the idea of her rejecting him a second time, and so he would not press the point until he was absolutely certain she wished his addresses.
Apollo galloped over the ground at a speed only slightly less than breakneck. Darcy’s mind was in a muddle: thoughts of Wickham and what schemes the scoundrel may have already initiated tangled around fears for the Bennets and worry that Elizabeth would never accept him. Perhaps, if he went fast enough, the wind would somehow untangle the mess he found himself in, leaving a long rope of clarity whistling through the air behind him.
Darcy pulled Apollo to a walk as he spied a flash of colour in the trees near the path at the base of Oakham Mount. Elizabeth. He recalled the morning, scarcely a week ago, when he had first seen her again, whole and in the flesh. Joy filled his soul as he once more revelled in her living presence. Regardless of his current conundrums, things could certainly be worse. A smile broke across his face as he drew near enough that Elizabeth’s features became clear. He slowed to a halt and dismounted.
Apollo, mouthing his bit, waited until his rider had dismounted and then walked to Elizabeth.
“Good morning, Apollo,” Elizabeth said.
Apollo tried to nuzzle her, but Elizabeth caught his bridle and stroked his nose.
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 18
