Chapter 19

 

December 8, 1812

 

The bedrooms at Rosings Park were well appointed and had been designed with comfort in mind. The mattresses, which were themselves of the highest standard, were each graced with a featherbed and sheets of superb quality. Most of these rooms also included cast iron stoves to stave off any chills, and plush rugs to minimize the echo of sounds. In short, every care was taken to ensure the occupants' sleep would be sound and comfortable. The same could not be said of the rooms at the Hunsford Inn. Here the rooms were designed to minimize costs and meet the guests' basic necessities. It would stand to reason that, given the efforts expended, the inhabitants of Rosings Park would out-sleep those at the inn. However, as Anne and Mr. Kent arose with the sun, Darcy and Bingley managed to find the deepest of sleep—Darcy with the help of Bacchus and Bingley wrought with the fatigue that accompanies travel.

Abandoned in the delicious throws of slumber, Bingley was awoken by a pounding on his bedroom door. An unfamiliar voice called out, “Will you be wanting breakfast, sir?”

It took a moment for Bingley to gain his bearings, but once he had, the memories of the previous evening flowed through his mind. He had promised Lady Catherine they would be back for breakfast. The fact someone had been sent upstairs to ask a question, was a strong indication that it was well past time for breakfast. “What is the time?” Bingley asked, fearing the answer.

“Half past ten.”

Bollocks! He had over slept. As if there wasn't already enough to try to explain, once they made it back. Bingley got out of bed and began to redress in the clothes he had worn the previous evening.

“Sir?”

The voice outside the door reminded Bingley that someone was still standing outside his room waiting to see if he would be taking breakfast. “No. My friend and I will forgo breakfast this morning. Thank you.”

Bingley could hear receding footsteps as he continued to do his best to compose himself. He looked in a glass above the basin and firmly decided he would fail miserably as a valet. With any luck, they could slip in through a back door, once they were back to Rosings Park, and make themselves presentable before facing the formidable Lady Catherine.

Bingley walked down the hall and pulled out the key to Darcy's room. He felt a twinge of guilt having kept the key, but he had reasoned that Darcy had not been in a state the previous evening to be trusted with looking after his own interests. Bingley had simply kept the key in case he had heard a commotion in the room and needed to check on his friend's well-being. Bingley knocked softly on the door and slipped the key into the lock. Before the key had turned, the door opened and an impeccable dressed Darcy stood at the door.

“Bingley,” was the curt greeting Darcy offered. Bingley removed the key and slipped it into his pocket, with a look, that could only be described as embarrassment.

“Good morning, Darcy. I was not expecting you to be awake already, much less dressed.”

“Yes. Well I would like to say, it is half past ten, so of course I would be awake, but the truth of it is, my room is next door to yours. I could not help but waken with that resounding pounding that was delivered to your door just now.”

Bingley looked over Darcy one more time. “You woke up… just now? When the man asked if I would be taking breakfast?” He simply could not understand, how it was, that Darcy could look so refined after last night. To accomplish such a feat in a space of five minutes…well, it seemed impossible.

Darcy gave Bingley a look of annoyance. “Yes. I believe, I just told you that.” Darcy walked back to his bed and sat down. Bingley stepped into the room. As soon as the door had closed, Darcy rested his elbows on his knees, let his head fall into his hands, and began messaging his temples. With this small indication, Bingley was able to see his friend was suffering from the aftermath of drinking, even though he would be do everything in his power to hide his suffering from the outside world.

“I am sorry about the key,” Bingley said, removing it from his pocket and offering it to Darcy.

Darcy waved him away. “No. It was best you kept it. I was not myself last night. And we will be leaving now, so I have no need for it.”

Bingley could see Darcy was not angry, but there was something bothering him aside from the ill effects of his overindulgence. “What do you say,” Bingley asked, “we go downstairs and find you a hair of the dog for that nasty bite? And then, we can head back to Rosings Park, while you tell me what it was that brought this all about.”

Darcy looked at Bingley with a halfhearted smile on his face. “You are a good friend Bingley. I appreciate your concern, but I find this pounding in my head is a fantastic distraction from the pounding of my heart. I should hate to undo all my hard work last night by dulling this sensation, thus providing my mind sufficient comfort to resume its consideration of my predicament.”

Bingley crossed the room and took a seat, next to Darcy, on the bed. “Darcy, what predicament do you find so miserable you must try to escape it?” Bingley was fairly certain that the answer had to do with Miss Elizabeth, but as they had not seen each other since leaving Hertfordshire, he was at a loss to understand how she had so gravely injured his friend.

Darcy shook his head and gave Bingley a sideways glance. “Surely, the answer is obvious. Must you make me say it out loud?” Bingley still looked confused and with resignation Darcy whispered, “She does not love me… and she never will.”

Bingley wanted to ask what had happened to bring Darcy to this conclusion, but his friend looked miserable. Bingley could not bring himself, to ask Darcy to relive the experience, that had brought about such pain. Instead, he would try a different approach in his quest to discover what had happened.

“Darcy, it was not so very long ago that I believed my Jane would never love me. I was very much in the same place where you stand now.”

Before Bingley could continue, Darcy cut him off, and with venom in his voice spat out, “Really? I can't seem to recall exactly who Miss Bennet was engaged to, Bingley. Perhaps, you can refresh my mind.”

Bingley stared at Darcy in disbelief. “I saw Miss Elizabeth last night, Darcy. She said that she had not seen you, much less spoken to you, since her arrival at Rosings Park. Further, there was no mention of her engagement. I cannot see how you can believe such a rumor.”

“She may not have seen me, Bingley, but I have seen her. I assure you, it is just a matter of time before her betrothal is announced.”

Bingley was not entirely certain his friend was correct. He had just endured an exceedingly long carriage ride with Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. Up until he had his little chat with Jane, the atmosphere in that carriage was downright frigid. There was nothing, in either sister's actions or words, to suggest the possibility of something so joyous hovering on the horizon. “Maybe things are not as they seem. As you are fully aware, I too had assumed my love's affections were not directed at me. In fact, I came to this conclusion in part, by relying on your observations.”

Darcy winced as he listened to this statement. Had he not sufficiently rectified his error?

Bingley continued, “Yet, we both had misread Miss Bennet's actions. I fail to see, how you could misread a woman's heart once yet be so very certain of the heart of this same woman's sister less than four months later. Did you not learn, from watching my own suffering that, perhaps, it is better to speak directly to a lady about her feelings rather than relying on observation or hearsay to ascertain your love's true feelings?”

Darcy considered explaining that, in this case, his opinion was formed based on words Elizabeth had spoken directly. To do so, however, would be to acknowledge that he had been eavesdropping. It would be one thing if he had caught a glimpse of a lovers' embrace, but Darcy felt ashamed for having lingered, unannounced, to hear an entire conversation—and of such a personal nature. Darcy knew that Bingley's kind and forgiving heart would not judge him harshly, but feeling the shame of his drunken antics of the previous evening, Darcy could not give voice to yet another indiscretion.

“I know you mean well, Bingley. I will admit I was mistaken when I advised you about Miss Bennet's lack of regard, but on this matter there is no room for misunderstanding. I will not say how it is, that I am certain, but the lady made herself quite clear, and I will not suffer further humiliation in pursuit of a lost cause.” Darcy paused at the thought of staying so close to Elizabeth. It would be painful to know she was nearby, but if he happened to encounter her or news of her engagement made its way to his aunt's home, he would be devastated. Darcy was growing panicked and almost to himself voiced the words, “I cannot stay here.” Darcy stood and paced the room to verify he had left nothing behind. It was time to get back to Rosings Park and begin packing.

“Of course not,” Bingley replied, bouncing his leg in an effort to work off his nervous energy, “Lady Catherine was expecting us for breakfast and we have already missed that. You do not have a horse, so we will need to walk. We should head back soon, if we hope to have time to change before lunch.”

Darcy caught the misunderstanding. “No. I mean I cannot stay in Hunsford. Not with her so near. I cannot sit in some gilded cage, as my aunt and your sister lob multitudes of insinuations that I must soon marry and produce an heir, all the while watching the woman, I once believed would be the mother of this heir display her pleasure and passion for another man.” A sudden realization hit. “My God. My whole family is expecting some sort of announcement.” Upon this realization he collapsed back onto the bed. “My mortification is complete.”

After a few moments of contemplation he again looked to Bingley. This time he had the look of a frightened child searching for a hiding place with the knowledge that his nemesis was lurking around the corner. “I understand how awkward this would be for you, Bingley. I have invited you to stay with me at my aunt's estate, but for my own sanity, I will need to contrive some excuse to flee this county—nay, this country—for a few months.”

Bingley was beginning to wonder if the man before him could truly be the same Fitzwilliam Darcy he had known for so many years, a man, who had faced challenges and responsibilities while far too young, but with grace and fortitude that most could not muster after years of trials. It was so unlike Darcy to run. Everything he had seen in Darcy since he had come to Hunsford had been out of character. “And what of Georgiana?” he asked pleadingly. Darcy's love and adoration for his sister had always been the anchor to help him through rough storms.

“I shall leave word, asking Richard, to look after her during my absence. Richard should be here, the day after the morrow.”

At Darcy's words, Bingley suddenly understood just how soon Darcy was planning on fleeing. He could not help but feel a deep concern for his friend, who was acting rashly and unpredictably. “Would it help if I accompany you?”

“No.” Darcy paused, thinking of Bingley's speech about Miss Bennet and how he now seemed so confident that his earlier convictions about her affections had been misplaced. He had used her Christian name, had he not? Clearly, something had occurred between the two of them to have changed his friend's mind. “I suspect you are finally gaining a foothold in securing your future with Miss Bennet. I do not wish to see you risk such happiness. It is fully deserved. Please, stay here at my aunt's home and nurture that relationship. Besides, I believe I will benefit from reflection and time alone.”

“Where will you go?”

“I don't yet know. I suspect I will be traveling around. Maybe I can finally enjoy that grand tour I had been planning, all those years ago.” Darcy smiled at the irony. He had been a week away from starting his grand tour when he received word of his father's sudden and unexpected death. It was the last time he had felt grief of this magnitude. Finding Bingley after both experiences and his sudden change in travel plans, made him feel the two events were linked. As if the other shoe had finally dropped.

“You know very well that you cannot tour the continent. There is a war going on, Darcy.”

“I really do not see the problem there,” Darcy responded only half in jest. Then he remembered dear Georgiana, and he reconsidered his plans. “Perhaps I will journey to Ireland. I will send my attorney my whereabouts as my plans change. If there is urgent news, I can be reached through him. But we must now hasten back to Rosings Park. I have much planning to do, and I'd like to leave tomorrow.”

And with that, the two men left the inn, collected up Bingley's horse and began walking away from town.