Darcy stared out the library window as he waited. She’d been home three days. For three days he’d bided his time, wrestling all the while with the compulsion to come here. The equally irrational impulses to demand to see her, to demand that she break her engagement to Henry Charleton rode him hard as well. Three sleepless nights had been enough to convince him that paying a call to honor the occasion of her sister’s wedding to his dearest friend was merely being neighborly. After all, they’d been in the way of friends themselves, once.
At the sound of the doorknob turning, Darcy steeled himself.
“Oh,” she said, coming into the room. Her relief was palpable, which Darcy found a welcome reaction, if a bit confusing.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, bowing formally.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, and she blushed. He loved that bloom of color. He keened to it. “Forgive me, my lord.”
“Not at all,” he said. “How was your trip south? The weather kept fine, I hope.”
“Yes, very fine,” she said.
She did not elaborate, and the pause stretched out between them.
“You seemed to have been expecting someone else when you came in to the library just now,” he said.
“Oh!” she came nearer, inviting him to sit with a wave of her hand. “Please, be seated. I ought to have told you straight away. I still can hardly believe it myself.”
He sat, his curiosity aroused enough that the torment he’d felt at the prospect of seeing her again ebbed. For a moment he could breathe again.
“Do tell,” he said.
“Mr. Wickham is in Hertfordshire,” she said. “I have reason to believe he is staying nearby.”
Darcy rose to his feet again on the instant.
“Why? What happened?”
“Please, calm yourself,” she said again. “He was here, but I have good reason to think he shan’t return. Not if he can at all help it.”
When he complied with her request once more, she told him of Mr. Wickham’s apologetic plea and Lydia’s shocking revelation of their prior connection.
“I have not yet told my parents,” she said, almost as an afterthought. “They ought to be warned.”
“They ought to be,” said Darcy. “They, and all the people near you ought to be informed at once. If he is still in the vicinity, the potential for harm is great. I know not precisely how he may have imposed on your sister, but I take it upon myself to find out and to exact restitution from him accordingly.”
“You needn’t take so much upon yourself,” she began.
“The fault is mine,” he said. On this he would hear no argument. “Your sister could not have been so imposed upon, nor would you yourself have been harmed had I dealt with Mr. Wickham accordingly when I ought.”
“I will not have you blame yourself for the misdeeds of others,” said Elizabeth, her exasperation plain.
“Then we are at an impasse,” he said. “For I cannot oblige you in this.”
They sat in silence for long minutes. When Elizabeth spoke again, her words sounded forced.
“I understand congratulations are in order.”
“I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“Miss Bingley was here this morning,” she said, as though that explained her previous comment.
“Had she some good news to report?” he said. He was ill at ease with Miss Bingley at present.
Elizabeth looked at him as though he’d said something terribly peculiar.
“Miss Bingley informed me that your engagement was very soon to be announced,” she said. Her voice was not entirely steady and she did not meet his eyes.
“You have been misinformed,” he said. “Which brings me to the point of my visit: the letters you received at the time of the ball at Netherfield.”
“The letters,” said Elizabeth. “After everything else, I’d quite forgotten them.”
“I nearly forgot them myself,” said Darcy. “Except that on my return, Miss Bingley approached me for the second time. She made it clear that my engagement to you was an offense to her, albeit a forgivable one considering that the idea – that of a fiancée in name only – had been hers from the start. She wished me to consider reapplying that idea in it’s in original form.”
“You mean that Miss Bingley would become your fiancée,” said Elizabeth.
“An engagement to her in name only, at her suggestion,” he reminded her. “I declined a second time and Miss Bingley was less gracious in her reply this time. She railed at me, really. She also informed me that she’d done what she could to spare me the disgrace of having involved myself with you and your family.” Elizabeth blushed at this, and this time Darcy took no enjoyment from the sight of it. “Forgive me, I do not wish to cause you pain; I will spare you the details of her reproach. Suffice it to say, she thought that if you were adequately distressed, she would assume your place as the countess-to-be.”
“So Miss Bingley was the author of them all,” said Elizabeth.
“She admitted to having sent three messages. You received only three, yes?” Elizabeth nodded. “Then, yes. She is our culprit.”
Elizabeth stood and paced the room. Darcy let her move in peace, content for the moment to simply share the time in her presence.
She stopped suddenly.
“There is something more I must tell you,” said Elizabeth. “It has been weighing on me, most heavily, since we last spoke in Newcastle.”
Darcy cleared his throat. He did not wish to hear anything about Newcastle, or fiances, or Henry Charleton. But as the only alternative was to take his leave, Darcy prepared to bear it.
“As you already know, Henry Charleton made me an offer of marriage that night at the assembly,” she said.
“Yes,” he replied.
“I neglected to tell you at the time that I did not accept him.”
Darcy met her gaze immediately.
“We are not engaged,” said Elizabeth, more slowly this time. “I should never have allowed you to think we had been. I am truly sorry for having done so.”
Hope erupted in his chest, setting his heart to pounding.
“You are not engaged,” he said.
“I am not.”
Darcy moved to stand before her without intending to do so.
“I gave as much thought to harming Henry Charleton as I once gave to George Wickham,” he said, amused at his own expense.
“Thought, perhaps,” said Elizabeth. Her eyes glittered with humor. “You would never strike another person, not even one so deserving as George Wickham.”
“You know me well,” he said. “Elizabeth, I – ”
“ELIZABETH BENNET!”
The shriek – for it could be called nothing else – startled them to such a degree that Elizabeth fell back into the chair behind her. She rose instantly.
“Mama,” she said. “I am so sorry, my lord, but I must go see what she needs. I’ve been gone for ages.”
“Of course,” said Darcy. “I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.”
“My lord,” she said, sounding breathless. “Until then.”
And she was gone.
“Until then, my love,” he said to an empty room.