Anne invited Mrs. Collins to visit two or three times a week, at times there were no other visitors. On the one occasion she invited him, it was obvious Mr. Collins had mixed feelings about that. He was pleased his wife was invited but chagrinned he was not. He consulted with Darcy about it, who suggested that Collins accept it as one of the reasonable eccentricities of a wealthy, yet sheltered spinster heiress.
Although the added and varied company was more pleasant than any of Lady Catherine’s guests, Darcy found Rosings unhappily empty without Elizabeth. He returned to Pemberley, where he’d invited Bingley and his unwed sister to join him and Georgiana. That filled his days and evenings in a way that should have been adequate, but Darcy still felt a lack. There was an emptiness in his life where Elizabeth had been, and he often found himself thinking about her when he should be attending to matters at hand.
One matter, an unpleasant one, was telling Georgiana that Wickham had left Britain. He also apprised her that Wickham had tried to disperse the rumor that she’d almost eloped with him, so that she would be ready if anyone was ever crass enough to mention the event. She was very quiet while he spoke and he tried to ignore the tears in her eyes. Of Wickham’s failed attempt to run off with Mrs. Pratt, he said nothing.
That accomplished, Darcy tasked himself with trying to deduce whether or not Bingley still had feelings for Jane Bennet. At first, he thought that since Bingley never spoke of her, he must have recovered from his infatuation. After a few days, however, it occurred to Darcy that there was a pointedness to Bingley’s silence on the subject. He never talked of his time in Hertfordshire, but mentioned every other place he had lived for the past three years. He also made no mention of a wonderful woman he’d just met, which was unusual for him. By the time Bingley and his sister left for their next engagement, Darcy still had no answer.
There were many times during Bingley’s stay that Darcy was on the verge of bringing up Miss Jane Bennet. He permitted his friend to leave without doing so, however. He still worried that if he broached the idea it would be tantamount to telling Bingley to marry Miss Bennet.
Life returned to normal for Darcy, except that it couldn’t be. Normal was now strange feeling. Even in his beloved Pemberley with his sister there, the world was an empty place without Elizabeth.
Almost two months after he’d last seen her, Darcy sat at his desk trying to read over his mail. It contained a number of business letters he knew he should focus on, but he worked with less alacrity than usual, his mind often straying to Elizabeth. He wondered what she was doing. Did she miss him? It had been two months. What if she had met a gentleman she cared for?
Darcy scowled at the thought, forcing himself to see to his affairs. He had no right to wonder if Elizabeth Bennet had met a gentleman. Until he asked for her hand again and was accepted, he had no right to concern over her activities. Yet how could he ask if he couldn’t see her? He looked at the ledgers open on his desk. Did he have no business that would take him to Hertfordshire?
In truth, Darcy could travel to Hertfordshire whenever he wished, of course, and knew why he did not. Mr. Bennet would certainly invite him to stay in his house if he knew Darcy wanted to be there. If he went with no excuse, it was tantamount to proposing. He needed to see Elizabeth again, to assess if her ‘I don’t know’ had changed to something more positive. He wouldn’t be able to stand the pain of handing his heart to her a second time and being rejected.
Unable to focus on them, Darcy set aside his ledgers and letters of business and opened the first of his personal correspondence. It was from Anne. She said that the harvest looked as if it would go well and that she had invited Miss Mary Bennet to stay with her. If she’d invited Elizabeth back, he’d been prepared to take it as a sign. He would have ridden to Rosings and reissued his proposal.
She’d invited Miss Mary, however. Well, Darcy hoped his cousin could improve Miss Mary as much as she’d improved Miss Kitty. He eyed the next letter on the pile.
It was from Bingley. Never before had letters from his closest friend given Darcy pause. Ever since Elizabeth’s vehement assertion that her sister did love Bingley, Darcy felt a shadow of guilt when dealing with the man. It weighed on what had once been a very cordial friendship.
Grimacing, Darcy opened the letter. It was an invitation for Darcy to join Bingley for shooting in Netherfield as soon as he wished to come. Darcy reread the line twice. What was Bingley doing, returning to Netherfield? Either he was so indifferent to Miss Bennet that he didn’t consider her, or he cared for her deeply enough to ignore Darcy’s advice.
Darcy was out of his chair before he knew it. “Stevens,” he called and he strolled from his office. He turned to the footman waiting outside. “Send Stevens to my quarters. We’ve packing to see to. Have a carriage brought round. Tell Alderson we’re off to Netherfield.”
“Yes, sir,” the man said, hurrying away.
Darcy didn’t waste a moment. He was tired of living with the guilt of not knowing if he’d wronged his best friend and he was miserable without Elizabeth. He wasn’t sure what he meant to do about either, but he knew he wouldn’t find the answers in Pemberley. Not when Bingley and Elizabeth were both in Hertfordshire. If he’d wanted a sign, surely Bingley’s letter was one.
When he reached Netherfield, he could tell Bingley was surprised to see him so soon. In fact, he arrived just a few hours after Bingley had. Ever amiable, Bingley took his precipitous entrance in stride. To Darcy’s surprise and relief, Miss Bingley was not in attendance. Apparently, she’d stuck to her declaration to never return. It would be relaxing to be with Bingley and not have to walk the tightrope of being pleasant to his sister without encouraging her to think he had the slightest interest in her.
The following day, Darcy and Bingley rode out to scout possible hunting locations and examine the property. They spoke little except about the purported purpose of the ride, and Darcy mourned their loss of easy comradery. He knew the tension between them stemmed from his guilt and whatever it was Bingley had planned for his visit to Hertfordshire. In spite of that, they still spent a pleasant enough day, riding for several hours.
They’d only just finished a light meal after returning when they had their first caller, Sir William Lucas. Sir William was the father of Elizabeth’s friend, Mrs. Collins, so Darcy did not mind the intrusion as much as he might have. William might mention Elizabeth, after all. He and Bingley stood as the man was shown into the parlor.
“Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, it’s so good to see you both back in Netherfield,” Sir William said, bowing. His tone conveyed what seemed to be genuine pleasure. He had always been friendly before, but there was more in this greeting.
“We’re pleased to be back,” Bingley said. “Please sit. I, for one, missed the fine company and country air Hertfordshire has to offer.”
He didn’t look at Darcy as he said it, but Darcy had the distinct impression the remark was aimed at him.
“Very kind of you to say as much.” Sir William beamed at Bingley. “Mr. Darcy, my condolences on your aunt and might I add, my daughter, Mrs. Collins, spoke very highly of the unflagging assistance you extended to Miss de Bourgh when Lady Catherine died. She said you were willing to do any job, no matter how large or small, to keep Rosings running smoothly.”
“I did what had to be done,” Darcy said, a bit surprised by the praise. He couldn’t see how his shoveling manure was a particular virtue. He didn’t want the cows to be milked in stalls that weren’t cleaned or the horses to stand in filth.
“Just as you did what had to be done when you rescued poor Mrs. Pratt from that villain Wickham?”
“When I did what?” Darcy asked, shocked. If anything, he’d been prepared for veiled comments about Georgiana’s elopement and had been almost eager for the chance to correct any rumors. He hadn’t expected mention of Mrs. Pratt.
“Come now, all the world knows of it,” Sir William said. He leaned forward. “How Mr. Wickham fled the country to avoid debtor’s
prison. How he first tried to run off with Miss Lydia to get her dowry for paying his debts.” He spoke in a low voice completely at odds with his assertion that everyone already knew.
“I think it would be best if we didn’t belabor the subject,” Darcy said.
“What subject?” Bingley was all eagerness. “Come, Darcy, you’ve said nothing of this. What’s happened?”
Darcy shook his head, frowning. “It’s exaggeration.”
“Now, don’t be modest,” Sir William said. He turned back to Bingley. “I have it from the girl’s own mother that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Pratt rode at a gallop in the dark of night for hours and rescued the fair maiden. Wickham kidnapped her, you know, for her dowry, knowing that her father and uncle would pay him more than her share, because she is her mother’s favorite.”
Darcy grimaced. Not only were the details wrong, he wasn’t even certain if the word maiden applied. Not that he would ever correct that. If he said that Mrs. Pratt had gone willingly, he would cast a slur on her name that she might never live down. The fact that the slur was earned didn’t matter.
“Come now, Darcy, let’s have the lot of it,” Bingley said, obviously enjoying himself.
Darcy shook his head. “I did little.”
“He’s a local hero,” Sir William said. “I would be honored if you’d dine with us soon.”
“We would be happy to, sir,” Bingley said. “Send round a time and date.”
“I will, I will,” Sir William said. He stood and Darcy and Bingley followed suit. “Wanted to be the first to see you again, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley. Glad you’ve returned.”
They exchanged bows and a footman showed Sir William out. As soon as he was gone, Bingley turned to Darcy. “Well?”
“I, along with several others including her father, assisted Mrs. Pratt,” Darcy said. “We did put Wickham aboard a ship to Spain. There’s really nothing more to it.”
Bingley eyed him for a moment, looking disappointed. “If you say so. I know better than to try to change your mind on a subject.”
Did Darcy imagine the vindictive edge to that statement? Again, he wondered why Bingley had returned to Netherfield and if it had to do with Miss Jane Bennet. Had he invited Darcy for the purpose of proving him wrong?
Bingley continued to scrutinize him, but Darcy shook his head, pressing his lips closed in a firm line. He refused to divulge any further information about Mrs. Pratt. He trusted Bingley, but it wouldn’t do to ever have Lydia Pratt’s actions come to light. Bingley was a terrible liar, especially to those who knew him. Words aside, a guilty look in response to probing by his sisters was all it would take to put their tongues wagging and a different story would reach the world.
“If we’re not to speak of that obviously delicate subject, I suggest we speak of another,” Bingley said. He regarded Darcy with determined eyes. “I brought you here for a reason. I cannot get Miss Bennet out of my mind. I know you said before that you didn’t think she loved me, but I love her. I want to meet her again and decide if I love her enough to marry her without her loving me. You said you thought she enjoyed my company. Could she like me enough to be happy with me? I have to see her again.” This last, Bingley said with a note of desperation in his tone.
Darcy recognized that emotion. It lurked in his own breast. “Why do you want me here?”
“Because if you are looking over my shoulder I will be more careful. I have a tendency to rush headlong into things. Even if you don’t say anything, knowing you’re watching me will make me more careful. In spite of how much I care for Miss Bennet, I don’t know if I can marry a woman who doesn’t love me. I’m afraid I’ll propose before I can answer that question for myself.”
“If you want someone to make sure you don’t propose to Miss Bennet, why not one or both of your sisters?” They’d made no secret of not approving of Jane Bennet and had done a skillful job of preventing a proposal thus far.
“Because you want me to be happy. My sisters want me to be rich and well connected,” Bingley said bitterly.
“I do want you to be happy. Remember that,” Darcy said, realizing it was time to tell Bingley the truth. “There are some things I’m going to tell you that will probably make you angry with me.”
Bingley looked at him with puzzled expectancy. “This sounds serious. Should I sit back down?”
“You may want to,” Darcy said, but they both remained standing. “First, Miss Bennet was in London for most of the winter. She called on your sisters who cut the acquaintance. I suspect that Miss Bingley told Miss Bennet you knew she was in London.”
“Miss Bennet must have thought I was avoiding her. She will never forgive me.” Bingley groaned, sinking into a chair.
“Miss Bennet is a generous hearted woman who tends to think the best of people, but she isn’t stupid. I suspect she knows the truth.”
“Still…”
“Still, she has reason to be angry with you. The whole neighborhood was expecting you to propose last year. Instead, you left. Think how that looked to everyone.”
Bingley leaned back in his chair, looking up at Darcy. “I’m only a little angry with you. I know you thought she didn’t love me. You always look out for me.”
“There’s more,” Darcy said, taking the chair opposite Bingley. “I found out last April that Miss Elizabeth believes that Miss Bennet loved you.”
“What! And you didn’t tell me?”
“If you were willing to go five months without any attempt to see her, I had to believe you didn’t love her,” Darcy said.
“I do love her. I’m sure I do. It’s been nearly a year and I still think of her constantly. I went along with you because I knew you were right. I fall in love too easily. This is different, though, Darcy. This is something more.”
Darcy nodded. “It seems to be.”
“Do you think, after all I’ve put her through, Jane still loves me?”
“I don’t know,” Darcy said, shaking his head. “You must discover that for yourself, I think.”
Bingley surged to his feet. “I’m calling on the Bennets. Will you join me?”
It bordered on being late to make a call, but they went. As soon as they were shown into the parlor, Darcy realized the tone of the family had changed with the two youngest daughters married and the middle one staying with Anne. The only silly one left was Mrs. Bennet, and her silliness wasn’t as evident in the company of her husband and two oldest daughters.
“Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet cried, rushing over to him. “How good to see you. Ever since I learned what you did for Lydia I’ve wanted to thank you. And you helped Kitty too! And now Mary is there and she is meeting all sorts of eligible men. How can I thank you?”
“Miss de Bourgh is the one who invited Miss Mary and Mrs. Whitaker,” Darcy protested, taken aback by both her friendliness and praise.
He looked past her, meeting Elizabeth’s amused gaze. He offered her a smile, which she returned immediately. Something inside him relaxed, falling back into place after long months of being maligned.
“You just missed Sir William, who called to tell us how humble you are. That’s your real fault, you know. You don’t appreciate how good you are. You should be proud of yourself, but you are too modest. I was always suspicious of Wickham, but everyone accepted his lies about you. As I keep telling my sister, Wickham was not to be trusted. I always knew as much. Oh, hello, Mr. Bingley. It’s nice to see you too.”
“How is Mrs. Pratt?” Darcy asked, attempting to turn the topic away from his supposed character flaw of not enough pride.
“Quite well indeed,” Mrs. Bennet said. “It’s wonderful my dear sweet Lydia found a man who loves her so devotedly. Captain Pratt is a terribly fine young man.”
Darcy nodded. He was in no way convinced that Pratt loved his wife, but it would be the height of ill manners to disagree.
“Though, do you know, poor thing, Captain Pratt said she may only have two new bonnets a year,” Mrs. Bennet continued. “Two! Why, he
’s a captain. Surely he can afford three times as many bonnets as that for my Lydia. I can’t imagine what the man is thinking. She’s quite cross about it.”
“I’m sure he’s only being conservative now so that he can buy her something even better than bonnets in the future, Mama,” Elizabeth said.
Like food, Darcy thought.
“Do you know what?” Mrs. Bennet asked, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial fashion. “You may well be right, Lizzy. It’s still early, but Lydia is certain she’s already with child. Trust my Lydia to be such a good wife that she gets with child on her wedding night.”
“Mama,” Elizabeth said in a reprimanding tone, shooting an embarrassed look at Darcy.
He coughed into his hand, hoping the news wasn’t true. If Mrs. Pratt gave birth too soon after her wedding day, it would only add fuel to rumors he’d worked to suppress. “And what of Mrs. Whitaker?” he asked.
“Kitty is doing well, of course,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Not as well as Lydia, but well enough for any mama to be pleased. Mr. Whitaker was so good to take her. Such a nice young gentleman. I don’t know how my Kitty managed it.”
“She is enjoying Kent, I hope?” Darcy asked.
“She must be. She writes me terrible drivel about the birds and flowers there. On and on about flowers. She sneezes so much, you wouldn’t think she could tolerate the things.”
“Flowers?” he said. He exchanged a glance with Elizabeth, recalling how Mrs. Whitaker had railed against having to learn of flowers.
“Yes, indeed. Let me see.” Mrs. Bennet patted about herself, eventually coming up with a much-folded letter. “I’ll read it to you. Mama, I must tell you of how my dear Harold proposed. You see, he knew what Miss de Bourgh had been making me read, so he came one day and didn’t ask for me to walk, but instead to see me in the parlor. Well, I waited there, all aflutter you know, and in he came with an armful of the most beautiful roses. Knowing what Miss de Bourgh’s book said about roses, that they mean love, I couldn’t contain myself Mama. Before he could even ask, I jumped up and cried ‘yes!’ and do you know what he did? He rushed over and kissed me right there, in front of Miss de Bourgh and a maid, and I didn’t care one bit, although we did crush some of the roses. I didn’t even mind that the thorns drew a bit of blood from both of us, although the stain never came out of my dress. Miss de Bourgh said that some people have sworn blood oaths and our engagement was a blood oath. I dried and pressed some of the roses. Oh Mama, I’m going to fill our home with roses as long as they are blooming and never forget that moment. And she sent this with it,” Mrs. Bennet added, holding up a paper-thin pressed cluster of rose petals.
A Death at Rosings: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Page 17
