Darcy placed his second hand firmly over the first. “Of course, you will always be welcome. Georgiana has often lamented that she never got to know you. I never felt safe having her long in your mother’s company. I suppose now I know why. Anne, will you have the goodness to never reveal to her what we have spoken of here? I do not think she would understand about Father. She does not need to be so confused just now.”
Her eyes widened emphatically. “You must know, I have an interest in keeping these things quiet as well!”
“Well, that’s settled!” The earl slapped his knee in satisfaction. “Let the matter rest forevermore. Anne, Lady Matlock accompanied me. I am certain she would wish to visit with you. She also is desirous of meeting Darcy’s betrothed, but that cold journey took some of the starch out of her. I expect she is just emerging from her bath. Shall we impose on your friend, Darcy, to see if a room can be found for Anne?”
Darcy grinned. “By all means.”
Blissfullyunawareofthestewing hurricane raging in his drawing-room, Bingley had retired to the library with Caroline. Not a word had they spoken. Bingley’s newfound confidence seemed to grow him in her eyes, and instead of a younger brother, Caroline was put very much in mind of her father.
Stiffly, but not unkindly, he directed his sister to take a chair while he seated himself behind his desk. Never before had he deliberately placed himself in such a position of authority with her, but he had seen Darcy employ the intimidating manoeuvre countless times. If it worked for Fitzwilliam Darcy, it was not too good for Charles Bingley. The second act of the play was to subject his relative to stony silence, which he engaged in with a flourish. His fingers drummed expectantly on the desk.
Caroline slumped in her chair, not even bothering to put on her airs. Her eyes rested on his fingers. Bingley watched as she drew a shuddering breath. “I was wrong,” she confessed at last.
The fingers stopped abruptly. “Excuse me?”
Caroline squeezed her eyes shut, humiliated at what she had said and then shamed that she was required to repeat it. “I was wrong.” Her tones were hushed.
“How so?” he demanded. He would not be content unless she rendered a full confession and of her own volition.
She set her jaw, her old wilfulness flaming, fading, and at last guttering out. “I ought never to have interfered with Darcy,” she mumbled reluctantly.
Bingley arched a brow.
“MrDarcy,” she corrected. She glanced up at him and could see he was not yet satisfied. She heaved a deep breath. Her debasement was nearly complete, and there was no further point in trying to save face. Though she would never know the full measure of Lady Catherine’s depravity, she had witnessed first-hand the wholly unbecoming state to which the woman had sunk in her mindless pursuit of the Darcy name. There wasnothing, not even the triumph of seeing him reject Eliza Bennet, which could induce her to follow in that lady’s footsteps.
“I will never impose myself upon any of the Darcy family again.”
Bingley stared.
Caroline blinked, her voice cracking with intimidation. “I will beg Mr Darcy and Miss Darcy’s forgiveness for my vanity.”
Bingley’s lips twitched.
Caroline sighed, exasperated. “And I will apologize to Eliza Bennet! Are you happy, Charles?”
“To whom?”
She set her teeth. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“And what of my staff?”
She hung her head. “They are under your authority,” she muttered.
“Excellent. I believe just now Mrs Nicholls could use some help in organizing the tenant baskets for next week’s festivities.”
Caroline’s eyes flashed to his uncertainly. “Do you mean…?”
“You cannot shirk your duty, Caroline.” His tone was set in iron, but a slight lift of the ruddy brow over his bright eyes gave her hope.
“Yes, Charles.” She rose directly and betook herself to the kitchens.
Bingley grinned hugely, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back in his chair. “Dawson!” he called loudly. The butler appeared promptly. “Please give the staff these directions when interacting with Miss Bingley….”
Elizabethfinallyrolledoutof bed at half-past ten. She was not being slovenly, she rationalized. After all, she had sat up all night in her father’s room, relieved only at six by Mrs Cooper. After the… well, the rather embarrassing interruption of her “conversation” with Darcy, she had remained in wakeful vigil the rest of the night.
Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed pleasantly. It was a most agreeable memory—if, that is, one left out the part about being caught in a passionate embrace with her betrothed by her snickering father. She could only hope that his head injury would prevent him from remembering that event when he regained full consciousness. Darcy might never recover from his mortification!
Jane entered the room as Elizabeth was finishing her hair, all smiles and sunshine despite the wintery day. Elizabeth slanted a knowing glance over her shoulder. “Expecting Mr Bingley to call this morning?”
