“Nothing that cannot be mended,” he said tersely, his voice flat. “Have my valet sent for. I mean to pack for Lincolnshire.”
“Now?” Bingley looked genuinely surprised. “Darcy, it’s the middle of the ball! What could possibly—?”
“I said I needed air,” Darcy snapped, harsher than he intended. “And I find I need more of it than this place can offer.”
Bingley’s expression darkened, but he stepped back, his tone careful. “If you must. But Darcy—”
“Good night, Bingley.” Darcy brushed past him, the finality in his tone leaving no room for argument.
As he made his way toward the exit, the noise of the ballroom grew fainter with each step. The night air hit him like a shock, cold and biting against his heated skin. He paused just outside, staring up at the sky, the stars scattered across the darkness like fragments of something broken.
He clenched his jaw, shoving his hands into his pockets. He had let himself fall for her, and now he would pay the price. Buthe would not let her see the extent of his pain. She would never know how deeply she had cut him.
Tomorrow, he would leave for Lincolnshire. And after that, London. Distance was the only cure for this madness, and he would take it without hesitation.
Elizabeth Bennet may haunt me now, he thought bitterly,but I will not allow her to destroy me.
Elizabeth had barely slept.The events of the previous evening played on a torturous loop in her mind, each memory a fresh wound. Darcy’s furious expression, his biting accusations—she could still feel the weight of his words, the sharp edge of his disappointment. And now, with morning light streaming through her window, she was no closer to finding peace.
As she descended the stairs, voices from the sitting room carried through the house, sharp and agitated. Elizabeth froze midway, recognizing Mr. Collins’s tones rising above the others.
“…an absolute scandal, Mrs. Bennet! I was merely doing my duty as a clergyman and a relative, and now I find myself accused of impropriety! Impropriety, madam!”
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted as she reached the doorway. Mr. Collins stood near the fireplace, his face flushed, gesturing wildly as he spoke. Her mother sat on the settee, clutching her handkerchief as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. Mary hovered near the corner, her expression taut with guilt.
“What is going on here?” Elizabeth asked sharply, stepping into the room.
Mr. Collins turned toward her, his chest puffing out indignantly. “Ah, Cousin Elizabeth, how kind of you to join us.Perhaps you might explain to your family how my innocent attempt to preserve the Bennet name has resulted in such unwarranted hostility.”
Elizabeth stiffened, her hands curling into fists. “Preserve the Bennet name? By spreading gossip about me and Mr. Darcy in the middle of a ball?”
“Spreading gossip?” Mr. Collins gasped, his hand flying to his chest. “I did no such thing! I merely acted upon the information given to me by a trusted source—”
“Mary,” Elizabeth said flatly, her gaze snapping to her sister. Mary flinched, looking down at her hands, which were folded tightly in her lap.
“I… I only told Mr. Collins what I thought he ought to know,” Mary stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “It seemed improper… your wager with Charlotte… and Mr. Darcy… He’s not a good man, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth’s anger surged, her composure slipping. “What evidence have you?”
“Well…” Mary’s hands twisted her handkerchief. “Mr. Wickham, he said…”
“Mr. Wickham is the man you hold up as trustworthy! On what grounds?”
“He…” Mary cleared her throat. “Apparently, Mr. Darcy deceived Mr. Wickham in his inheritance. Some long-standing arrangement in his father’s will…”
“Now, Cousin,” Collins interrupted. “Pray, let us not denigrate an upright man so! The nephew of Lady Catherine and my good friend Mr. Darcy would never stoop so low as to undermine his father’s wishes. Why, I could write to Lady Catherine this minute for a character—she means for him to marry her daughter, of all people!”
Elizabeth gesticulated toward the man. “See? Even this fool can see through that lie. Mary, do you have any idea whatyou’ve done? What damage you caused by sharing something so personal—something so foolish—with him?”
“Now, see here!” Collins exclaimed, his face reddening further. “It was my moral obligation to intervene! Lady Catherine herself would applaud my efforts to protect a gentleman of Mr. Darcy’s standing from such… from such manipulation!”
Elizabeth laughed bitterly. “Manipulation? Mr. Collins, you have no idea what you’re talking about. You humiliated me—and Mr. Darcy—publicly, and for what? Your own self-importance?”
“That is quite enough!” Mrs. Bennet interjected, waving her handkerchief dramatically. “Elizabeth, how could you bring this shame upon our family? To think, wagering on a man’s affections! And Mr. Darcy, no less!”
Elizabeth’s breath caught, the accusation cutting deeper than she expected. Before she could defend herself, another voice interrupted.
“Lizzy?”
