Darcy watched Elizabeth walk with her mother and sisters, knowing she was safe and cared for, but still wanting to protect her. He could not say from what, but he sensed that she was not entirely comfortable at the present.
They climbed the stairs and Elizabeth was joined by her other sister and father. When Darcy had first seen Mr. Bennet at the ball, the man had appeared thoroughly bored by the entire event—the only person whom Darcy might consider was enjoying the evening less than he himself!
Now, however, Mr. Bennet looked both interested and concerned. Certainly, he no longer looked bored. Darcy decided to give Elizabeth time with her family, and when he reached the interior of the house, he turned to the side and did not follow the Bennets. Bingley continued to walk with him.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Bingley asked quietly, his eyes still locked on the Bennets; on Jane Bennet, Darcy felt certain.
“If you’d like,” Darcy said with a tired sigh. “But I know my story will be far less interesting than Miss Bennet, so I cannot think to distract you with it now.”
Bingley started, clearly surprised, and tore his eyes away from the lady in question. He grinned guiltily at Darcy.
“I’m sorry, old friend,” he said. “You have caught me. But you have my attention now, I swear.”
Darcy smiled back and knew his friend spoke true. However, before he could begin to speak, Caroline and Mrs. Hurst joined them.
“Charles!” Caroline said, sounding slightly scandalised. “You have been gone far too long! People have been wondering where you were. We have had to make your excuses and it was most inconvenient.”
“Forgive me, Caroline,” Bingley sighed, sounding both fatigued and bothered. “Please believe me when I say it was unavoidable.”
Caroline folded her arms, clearly dissatisfied with her brother’s explanation. She tried to hide her glares at Darcy, but he did not miss them. He expected her confrontation, and did not have long to wait.
“And you, Mr. Darcy,” she said, desperately trying to sound as if she did not care. “What were you doing out there? With… her.” Darcy felt his mouth tighten; he did not care for the manner in which Caroline referred to Elizabeth.
“I was enjoying a bit of air,” Darcy said stiffly. “I was not aware that I required your permission to do so.”
Caroline looked startled and hurt by his response, and he immediately regretted his words. He had already done damage to her feelings that night, and it was unkind for him to add to her distress. Bingley and Mrs. Hurst both looked surprised as well, and not entirely comfortable with the direction of the conversation. However, no one spoke, which suited Darcy. He was too tired to either make apologies or be careful with his words.
Eventually, he would have to apologise to Caroline—he wanted to. Despite not sharing her affections, he still cared for her. However, tonight Darcy was in no position to mend the situation. Too much had passed over the past hour. His ribs had begun to ache and he could feel a bruise coming up around his eye. Darcy knew that it would soon be obvious to everyone, and he hoped that he could excuse himself before he had to answer questions he was not ready to face.
Darcy and Bingley watched the Bennet party; neither spoke, but they did not need to. Darcy watched Elizabeth answer her mother and sisters’ questions. From her face, it seemed that she was doing her best to avoid disclosing the serious nature of her adventure. The youngest sisters knew she had gone off with Wickham, so she could not avoid everything. However, Mrs. Bennet seemed reasonably calm, so Darcy assumed Elizabeth had found a way to leave out certain details of the evening.
“She is quite remarkable,” Bingley said softly after his sisters lost their patience with them and went back to their guests.
“Miss Bennet does seem a wonderful woman,” Darcy replied, assuming Bingley referred to his own interest.
“Yes, indeed she is,” Bingley agreed at once with a small chuckle. “But it is not about her whom I was speaking. Miss Elizabeth must have endured quite the ordeal tonight—in addition to that awfulness a few weeks ago with those highwaymen. But there she is: laughing, smiling, and ensuring that her family does not worry. I believe I have said it before, but it bears repeating; you have chosen well.”
“I hope so,” Darcy replied. He was acutely aware that he had laid his own feelings bare in the last hour, but he still did not know how Elizabeth felt. He knew what his hopes were, but she had yet to say anything upon the matter. Darcy looked sideways at Bingley. “How did you know that there was an ordeal?”
“You insult me,” Bingley replied. “You emerge from the garden, covered in mud—it is a good thing you chose to wear brown breeches this evening, by the way—sporting what I can tell are sore ribs, a swollen hand, and a bruised face as if you’d met a gentleman who took offence to your appearance. Something happened out there. You needn’t tell me anything more right now, but I know.”
Darcy nodded, again grateful that Bingley did not demand answers in that moment. He had been prepared to tell him everything before his sisters joined them, but in the minutes since, the heaviness of the evening had settled upon him. He had absolutely no desire to do anything other than crawl into his bed.
However, as soon as that thought crossed his mind, he saw that the entire Bennet family was walking toward them. Elizabeth smiled at him shyly, and he immediately pushed his fatigue away, not wanting to show her how the evening had impacted him.
“Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet said, sweeping into a low curtsy. “Your generous hospitality has proved to be a singular experience. I cannot think the last time I enjoyed myself so well. And I know I speak for my daughters as well when I say such things.”
“I am glad you could come,” Bingley responded, returning a bow. “Please know that nothing pleases me more than to hear you have spent a fine evening in my home.”
“We are loath to leave so early,” Mrs. Bennet continued, “but my poor Lizzy seems to have suffered a minor injury. For her sake, we must depart.”
Darcy felt Elizabeth’s eyes upon him, and he turned to meet her gaze. She looked at him with a serious expression, as if something heavy weighed upon her mind. He could not imagine what she dwelled upon—there were far too many choices for him to have any confidence that he was correct. But he bowed his head slightly, hoping she could feel his affection in the small gesture.
“I don’t see why we have to go,” Darcy heard one of the youngest girls grumble. Both of Elizabeth’s youngest sisters had sour expressions of disappointment painted upon their faces. “We did not twist our ankles. There are still many dances to be had.”
Mr. Bennet, however, placed a heavy hand on each of their shoulders.
“It is time to take our leave,” he said firmly. Both girls glanced at their father, and their scowls deepened for a moment before leaving their faces completely. Both stepped forward, simpering smiles upon their faces. They curtsied as one.
“What a marvellous ball, Mr. Bingley,” the one Darcy was sure was called Kitty said.
“Indeed,” Lydia followed. “You have quite a talent for throwing balls. Know that when you host another, we will gladly come.”
“Lydia!” Elizabeth hissed, looking deeply embarrassed.
“It is quite fine, Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley laughed, ever the good-natured soul. “You will be first upon the guest list, Miss Lydia, Miss Kitty. I promise.” He turned to Elizabeth. “I am deeply grieved that you have met such misfortune on my estate. I dearly hope that you will recover soon.”
Elizabeth immediately waved away Bingley’s concern.
“Please,” she said firmly. “I know you are hardly to blame. It made for an exciting evening, to be certain.” She laughed lightly.
Darcy felt an odd battle within him: part of him was deeply impressed and proud of her diplomacy, the other disapproving of her seemingly cavalier attitude toward the whole incident. He shook himself, knowing his disapproval was ridiculous—it was impossible that Elizabeth would consider the evening’s events as anything other than serious. She was no fool, and he knew he must trust her. Given space to think, her motivation was clear: they were still surrounded by people and Mrs. Bennet was quite capable of creating a stir if she were to suddenly learn the truth.
“You are too kind,” Bingley replied to Elizabeth. “But please, you must allow me to accompany you to your carriage. I insist.” He held up a hand to cut off Elizabeth’s protests. Darcy saw Elizabeth glance at her elder sister and knew that her protest would not have had much strength behind it. Jane Bennet’s eyes were fixed upon her family, but Darcy noticed she glanced at Bingley more than once in just the few moments he watched.
“Your reputation as a host is well earned, Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet gushed as the entire group began to walk toward the front door and the line of carriages beyond. Darcy followed.
For a brief moment, he found himself walking next to that obnoxious clergyman, so well trained by his aunt. Darcy had no inclination to resume conversation with him, so he quickly stepped around to the other side of the group, and found himself walking next to Mr. Bennet.
Mr. Bennet seemed to share Darcy’s appreciation for silence, and after a brief nod of greeting—or thanks, Darcy could not be certain—Mr. Bennet seemed to forget Darcy’s presence. In this manner, they stepped out into the dark night. The chill that Darcy had barely noticed during his frantic search for Elizabeth now cut through him and he gave an involuntary shiver.
“You are cold,” a soft voice said from his side. Darcy looked up, surprised to find that Elizabeth had taken her father’s place at his side. He had not noticed the shuffle of people.
“Not at all,” Darcy lied, a sharp breeze causing a second shiver. He hoped she would not notice, but he saw a small smile cross her lips.
“You, Mr. Darcy, are a terrible liar,” she said, amusement in her voice.
“I have not had much practice,” Darcy replied. He had not intended to make a jest, but he heard her delighted laugh and realised the humour in his remark. He blushed deeply.
“I cannot imagine a better recommendation to one’s character at this moment,” Elizabeth said.
They had reached the gravel drive, and her family was beginning to step up into their carriage. Darcy glanced at the conveyance and vaguely wondered how so many would fit inside—it was not large. However, Mr. Bennet had already joined the driver on the front bench, and everyone else was inside, save Jane and Elizabeth. Elizabeth shrugged out of Darcy’s jacket and handed it to him.
“I should have returned this long past,” she said. “But I am very grateful. For everything.” She looked at him with a serious expression and Darcy swallowed hard. It was as if her eyes could see within him.
“Of course,” he said. He wanted to say more, he wanted to again declare his feelings, but he could feel the eyes upon them both, watching them from the darkness of the carriage. So instead, he bowed low, and bid her goodnight. “Rest well,” Darcy said, offering his hand to help her into the carriage.
“Thank you,” she said, taking his grip and stepping up.
The sudden warmth in his hand seemed to warm him right through—the cold air seemed to disappear. When she let go, he felt a deep, and surprising, sadness. He longed to take her hand once more. Instead, he stepped away and allowed Bingley to hand Jane into the carriage. Bingley closed the door with a sharp snap, and the driver slapped the horses into motion.
“Goodbye!” Lydia hung out the window, waving enthusiastically.
Bingley raised his hand in return, but Darcy turned away. He was ready to find his bed. The ball was far from over, but Bingley would simply have to forgive him.