Darcy frowned, having intended to extend the very same offer in the hope of easing Elizabeth’s distress. “We will go at once. If Phillip’s physician cannot come to you immediately, mine surely will.”
“Excellent,” his cousin agreed. “We shall trespass no longer when you must all be wishing to be at Miss Bennet’s side, with dear Mrs. Gardiner. May we call again tomorrow?”
“How very good of you,” Mrs. Jennings crooned. “Perhaps in the morning we shall have better tidings to report, eh Lizzy?”
Elizabeth gave a curt nod of her head. “Yes, thank you.” When she finally looked over at Darcy, she gave him a brief, strained smile; his heart felt as if it were twisting in his chest, that he could offer her no further succor at such a moment, but he departed the house determined that a physician for Miss Bennet would be found. Even if his cousin was to have the credit of it, he would make sure Miss Bennet was given the very best care, which in turn must be a balm to Elizabeth.
The next morning, Richard departed Matlock House alone, and heartily sorry that his relations and their friends should miss Bingley’s elaborate fete at Netherfield. He provided Darcy with some information he had received from one of his contacts, an intelligence officer they had both known since their youth.
“Matthews has tracked Wickham down as far as Hampshire,” Richard told him. “Coincidentally, the previous colonel of the regiment, Forster, has recently inherited an estate in Hampshire.”
Darcy felt a megrim coming on at the thought of what havoc his nemesis was wreaking on the unsuspecting populace of that county. “Do you suppose this Forster would harbor Wickham as a fugitive? He has always been uncommonly adept at recommending himself to his betters, and those who ought toknow better.”
Richard gave him a wry smile. “There had been chatter amongst my officers in Meryton that it is Forster’s wife who ought to know better, if you take my meaning. But I have told Matthews thatshemay perhaps be prevailed upon to give him quarter. It is a damned shame we cannot hunt the bastard down ourselves. I must accompany my replacement to Meryton before my duty to His Majesty’s army is complete, but you may yet have the pleasure, Darcy. Matthews will send word when he hears anything useful.”
After Darcy bid his cousin farewell, he paid a call he was sure would bring him little joy. He had spent hours pondering the situation the previous evening and could conceive no solution that entirely pleased him; in the matter of Edward Ferrars, Darcy was resolved to act as he ought to have done some weeks ago.
He had offered his friend the use of Darcy House when Edward returned from Kent the day before; he had hoped at the time that his friend’s need for the place would be of short duration. After hearing of Edward’s behavior to Miss Bennet, Darcy felt far less generous.
He did not trouble himself with civilities, though Edward presumed Darcy had come to inquire after his trip to Rosings. “I would speak to you about a matter of urgency,” Darcy said.
Edward’s demeanor instantly altered as he comprehended Darcy’s displeasure. “What has happened?”
“That is precisely what I wish to know. I should like to hearyouraccount of your meeting with Jane Bennet yesterday, for I have already heard one telling of it in Berkeley Street.”
Edward sneezed and furrowed his brow. “I do regret how I spoke to her. It was beneath me, utterly uncouth and unpardonable. I ought to thank you for sparing me your cousin’s reprimand.”
Darcy thought his friend seemed far too cavalier, despite his claims of remorse. Whatever regrets Edward had, they were not enough. “My cousin was nearly encouraging Miss Elizabeth to shoot you!”
Edward’s eyes went wide; if there was one woman in the world whose threats of violence ought not be dismissed, it was Elizabeth Bennet. Darcy was almost proud of the fear this inspired in his wretched friend. He waited, allowing his face to betray a modicum of impatience to hear Edward explain himself.
“I let my desperation get the better of me,” Edward sighed, his posture slouching. “I meant no offense to Bellamy; I do genuinely think them ill-suited, though I am hardly impartial.”
“And you felt compelled to detain her in the freezing rain to impart these opinions? She has taken ill, Edward – I fear it is quite serious.”
“Good God! I never thought of that.”
“Obviously, you thought only of yourself,” Darcy said sternly. “I have never known you to be selfish and mercurial, but these past few weeks it has been difficult to defend your character to those who have perceived your myriad failings. Miss Bennet never gave you any encouragement – anybody could see she barely tolerated you. I cannot think why you have pursued her so doggedly, but it has certainly been to her detriment.”
“I am heartily sorry she has taken ill; I am utterly to blame.” Edward hung his head and sighed. “I ought never have pursued her; I certainly never shall again. Still, ‘tis a pity.”
“It is a terrible shame,” Darcy said through gritted teeth.
“It seemed so expedient, when first I met her. She reminds me of Elinor – having thoroughly rejected me is just one more merit they have in common,” Edward said bitterly. “I never imagined any young lady my mother could approve of would be so artless and amiable. Neither did I ever suppose I should have the slightest interest in having a country estate – nothing like Norland, to be sure. But to hear her speak of Longbourn, small and quaint, and a large family who are actually fond of one another, a home full of real affection… Miss Bennet’s charms were impossibly tempting.”
“I had always thought you disposed to the quiet, humble life of a country vicar. What of your meeting with Lady Catherine?”
Edward eyed Darcy warily. “Your aunt was generous, and I believe she approved of me – or perhaps it is nearer the truth to say she seemed pleased by the opportunity to aid and improve me through her influence. I am grateful, of course, though it would be wrong of me to proceed without giving further consideration to my doubts before I am in her debt forever.”
Darcy laughed bitterly at Edward’s roundabout way of hinting that he had received the usual imperious treatment his aunt was wont to bestow in her constant quest to be lauded for her usefulness and benevolence. “I comprehend your hesitation – I have known my aunt all my life, after all. But what is the alternative? You have had little success in wooing an heiress, and I fear I cannot house you indefinitely. After yesterday….”
Edward held up a hand to stop him, and Darcy breathed a small sigh of relief that he would not be obliged to turn his friend out, no matter how deserved a consequence it might be.
“I intend to quit Darcy House. I have had an invitation from my uncle, Lord Avery; he is my mother’s brother, and would see us reconciled. John and Fanny have fallen from her favor since losing Norland, and Robert displeased her by fumbling his courtship with Miss Morton when his dalliance with Lucy was discovered. Since her apoplexy, Mother has not been well, and she may be willing to make amends if I devote myself to her recovery, for my brother and sister certainly shall not.”
Darcy could neither dissuade his friend from going to the aid of his ailing mother, nor respect Edward’s motives in doing so. He merely wished him well, and extracted one final promise that the ladies of Berkeley Street were safe from Edward henceforth.
When he returned to Matlock House, Georgiana and the countess expressed a wish to call in Berkeley Street and askafter Miss Bennet, for they had been away from home when Darcy and Phillip paid their call the day before. Both gentlemen accompanied the ladies, and they were received by Mrs. Gardiner, who appeared anxious and exhausted as she called for tea.
