“Darcy,” Hurst said, rising at once. “Thank you for coming so quickly. And Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“Of course,” Darcy replied, glancing briefly at Miss Bingley, who stood with her new, uncharacteristic composure near the hearth. “You sent word that something was amiss.”
“In a manner of speaking,” Hurst said. He gestured for Darcy and Richard to sit, though Darcy remained standing, a habit he found difficult to abandon when tension lingered in the air. “Charles returned from Longbourn in a temper and has since shut himself up in his study. He will neither take tea nor receive company.”
Darcy’s mouth tightened. “Is he well?”
Mrs. Hurst folded her hands in her lap. “He was…unsettled before he left. Whatever occurred has clearly done nothing to improve his spirits.”
Miss Bingley cleared her throat softly. Darcy turned to her, prepared for sharpness, for resentment—for anything but what he found.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said evenly, “we wished to speak with you before matters worsened further.” Her tone was gentle. Measured. Almost humble.
Darcy blinked. Richard’s brows lifted, though he said nothing.
Miss Bingley continued, “It has become clear that my brother’s situation—both financial and emotional—is no longer tenable for continued shared residence. Netherfield is…not a pleasant environment at present.”
“That is putting it mildly,” Hurst muttered.
Mrs. Hurst shot him a warning look, then addressed Darcy. “We wondered whether an invitation might be extended for us to stay at Purvis Lodge. We have no desire to return to town yet. The renovations on our townhouse are still underway.”
The request landed with unexpected gentleness. Darcy felt his shoulders loosen almost at once.
“You would be very welcome,” he said without hesitation. “The lodge was secured precisely to avoid discomfort—to all parties.”
Richard smiled faintly. “And with Mrs. Hurst present, there will be a proper hostess. We may even entertain, should circumstances allow.”
Mrs. Hurst inclined her head. “That was my thought as well. I have no desire to impose, but I believe it may be the most harmonious solution.”
Darcy studied Miss Bingley again. She met his gaze steadily.
“I should like to say something,” she said quietly.
Darcy nodded.
“I am aware,” Miss Bingley went on, “that my former conduct toward you was…overzealous. I mistook civility for encouragement and allowed my expectations to grow where no foundation existed. If I ever caused you to feel uneasy, I regret it sincerely.”
The words were plainly spoken, without artifice. She had already apologized once, though not in so public a setting.
Darcy felt a curious mix of relief and admiration. “You have not offended me, Miss Bingley,” he replied honestly. “But I appreciate your candor.”
Richard shot him an amused glance that said everything:Well, this is new.
Miss Bingley exhaled, visibly lighter. “Thank you. I am content with friendship—and peace.”
For a fleeting moment, Darcy allowed himself to believe that peace might indeed be possible.
The door to the drawing room flew open.
“So,” Bingley’s voice rang out, sharp and incredulous, “this is how it is done.”
All five turned.
Bingley stood in the doorway, his hair disordered, his cravat loosened, his eyes bright with agitation. He had clearly overheard more than was intended.
“You gather in secret,” he continued bitterly, “to arrange your departure. My own family—my guests—abandoning me without so much as a word.”
“Charles,” Mrs. Hurst began, rising at once, “that is not—”
