Dawn had brought a similar scene to Netherfield Hall. Darcy paced the long-emptied ballroom. Bingley had finally calmed himself enough to sleep – or enough to retire to his rooms, at least. For all the people who’d come to his home for the event, invited or otherwise, Bingley spoke of nothing but Miss Jane Bennet. Darcy humored his friend as much as he was able, considering he found his own mind full of another Miss Bennet.
Between her illness at Netherfield and her arrival at the ball last evening, Elizabeth Bennet had somehow transformed into one of the handsomest women Darcy had ever seen in his life. How had he ever thought her merely pretty? She brought laughter and joy wherever she went, though Darcy had been conscious of the envious looks she’d received from several unmarried ladies throughout the night.
The thought of breaking with her, of ending their agreement –tenuous and temporary though it ought to have been – was repugnant; he could barely stomach the idea. She bore the scrutiny with grace and good humor which was, despite his more advantageous upbringing, a talent Darcy had never yet managed to cultivate. The prospect of life in Derbyshire, both his old life and this new future as Matlock, were colorless in his mind when he pictured them without her.
There was only one sure solution to so bleak a prospect. Darcy would ask her to marry him – properly, this time.
He trembled at the thought. Securing Elizabeth’s acquiescence in a charade for the public had been a matter of finding something he could give her, something she valued. His material wealth meant little to her idea of happiness, his title even less so.
What more could he possibly offer to entice her to become his wife?
The question had stymied any sleep since the party disbanded some hours ago.
There was one point on which they’d been of the same mind – they neither of them enjoyed the duplicity required to uphold the pretense of their courtship. He knew he took no pleasure in deceiving her family and neighbors; nor did he enjoy that element. It sat ill with him, even now, though he still considered it to have been a prudent course of action. If anything, the ball last night proved it.
A spark of hope flickered in the darkness of his mind.
Perhaps, if he could not entice her heart, he could beseech her honor. Perhaps they could simply agree to the most honest course of action; perhaps she would agree to marry him justly to satisfy the demands of their character.
Surely not.
Darcy called himself a fool a thousand times over but it seemed the best chance he had. The glimmering hope of success rejuvenated his spirit and he dressed in haste. With any luck, the residents of Longbourn would be stirring soon. He would be there to speak to his lady as she rose to greet the day.
Elizabeth entered the parlour where Darcy waited. She carried something in her hand.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning, my lord,” she said. “You’re about rather early today.”
“I could say the same for you,” he said.
“I did not sleep well,” she admitted. Darcy’s heart began to pound. Could she possibly have felt the same shift between them?
She handed him the pages she’d brought with her. Darcy noticed that for a woman who claimed to have had no sleep, her face bore not a jot of the evidence. He dismissed the irrelevant thought with no small measure of self-disgust.
“I am loathe to bear unhappy news,” she said. “But I think it best you know all the facts.”
“What do you mean? What has happened?” he asked. He opened the notes, read them swiftly. The pounding in his chest took on a different cadence.
“Where did these come from?”
“One arrived here shortly before we left here last evening,” she said. “The second was delivered to me by a servant during the ball.”
“While you were at Netherfield?” he asked, incredulous. “Did you recognize the servant?”
“I did not, and once I’d read the note, I could not find the man again. It was no one I’d seen in the house before, nor on the grounds.”
“Bingley hired out from all over the county for the event,” said Darcy. “Whoever sent this must have known to choose someone unfamiliar to the regular servants of the house.”
Elizabeth hesitated. “Darcy, I cannot have threats of this nature so near my family; the risk is too great. Even if this person is merely vexed about your particular interest and means no harm, I cannot chance my parents or my sisters being put in danger.”
Darcy became truly alarmed.
“What are you saying?”
“I am saying,” said Elizabeth quietly, “that perhaps it is best that we end this charade sooner than we had originally planned.”
Darcy felt the start of panic in his throat, but tamped down on it hard. This was not the moment for rash action. He had to think.
“I know we originally talked about a period of a few months,” Elizabeth began. When she paused, Darcy held up his hand.
“A moment, if you please.” He turned away from her, his unseeing eyes fixed on a portrait above the mantle.
Elizabeth felt she or her family might be in danger. She thought if she removed herself from him, from their situation, that the danger would be lessened.
She may well be right about that. The author was most likely harmless, given only to writing petulant notes to cause as much trouble, but he would in no way place Elizabeth in danger. He would see her safe, one way or another.
Darcy had always firmly believed that there was more than one way to solve any given problem. She’d proved it herself, offering him courtship when he’d have shattered both their reputations with a false engagement. Darcy now just had to find a better solution than that which she’d suggested.
And pray God, she’d agree to it.
“My sister,” he said suddenly. The thought was only half-formed when he spoke but after a moment he became certain of its value. “My sister, Georgiana, is in London just now. What if you were to travel to see her for a short while? It would remove you from this setting, likely removing any threat to you yourself.”
Elizabeth considered him as he spoke.
“But what of the threat to my family?” she asked at length. “I cannot leave them if they in danger.”
“Your leaving here will separate us,” he replied. “If that is the author’s chief purpose, your going to London should effectually nullify any threat to you, or to your family.”
Elizabeth stood to pace the room.
“Where is your sister staying?” she asked, finally.
Darcy gave her the direction. He watched, hope blossoming as she marked it down.
“You know, of course, that I have never been introduced to your sister.”
“Georgiana is a delight,” he said.
“You’re her brother,” said Elizabeth. Darcy was pleased to see the first hint of a smile on her face. “Are you not obligated to say so?”
“Not at all. Georgiana is more than ten years my junior. If anything, the difference in our ages obligates me to tell you how very spoilt she has become under my rearing,” he said with a smile. “But alas, I speak the truth. She is highly regarded and, much like Mr. Bingley, beloved by everyone she meets.”
“Then I expect I shall think as well of her as I do of him,” she said.
“Dare I hope you’ll agree to go, then?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said, meeting his eyes for the first time in several minutes. “Darcy, this arrangement between us, the secrecy of it; the duplicity does not sit well with me.”
Hope flared within him, high and strong. He would play the hand he’d been dealt.
“Would you prefer to go ahead and marry?”
She laughed.
“It would serve you right if I said yes,” she said. “Alright, Darcy. I’ll go to meet your sister. We may carry on awhile longer.”
He’d not expected her to accept him, not really. Still, the disappointment he felt at her answer fell around him like a weighted cloak. His initial objective had been achieved and he clung to that. If his color burned high, she did not notice.
Darcy observed her as she began collecting papers, presumably to pack for her journey. He hated the thought of parting from her, but if her staying in Hertfordshire meant the end of their arrangement, he’d bear the separation as long as necessary.
For necessary she had become. The truth unboxed itself in his mind as he watched her.
He loved her.
Convincing her to maintain her part in this masquerade was now second only to her safety on his list of priorities. Her journey to London served the dual purpose of keeping her safe as well as affording him time to convince her to marry him after all. And if anyone could help champion his cause, it would be Georgiana.
But revealing his intentions would not yet serve his purpose. Even in the wake of such a heady realization, Darcy understood that Elizabeth was not ready to hear his feelings. After all, she had just tried to put an end to the arrangement. He would not give her any further reason to shy away.
No, he must absolutely keep his feelings secret. Perhaps, once Darcy had convinced Elizabeth to marry him, he would relate his feelings for her after the wedding. Once he was secure of her, he would chance revealing the truth.
Until then, he must do everything in his power to keep her safe.