“Interference, Miss Bennet?” Miss de Bourgh wrinkled her brow. “Who could have interfered?”
“MrBingley’s sisters did not support a match with Jane, and I have it on good authority that MrBingley’sparticular friend”—she regarded him intently—“took measures to separate him from her.”
“Darcy?” Miss de Bourgh scrutinised her cousin, and for the first time, Elizabeth perceived the family resemblance between daughter and mother.
Something like sheepishness crept into Darcy’s expression. “It is a complicated matter.”
“Complicated, Cousin?”
Elizabeth leant forward. “I am all anticipation….”
“I observed Miss Bennet closely and saw no evidence of any particular attachment to my friend. Having said that, she is a reserved person, I now realise, and as her behaviour was always proper, I interpreted her serene demeanour as indifference to my friend, who was decidedly smitten with her, and who believed his feelings to be reciprocated. I judged that he waswrong, and I told him so, because I wished to spare him a marriage devoid of love or joy. It appears that I was entirely mistaken, and when I make a mistake, I endeavour to rectify it as quickly as possible.”
Miss de Bourgh beamed.
Elizabeth pressed her advantage. “This is excellent news, MrDarcy. How soon do you expect to inform MrBingley?”
He twisted his signet ring before looking up at her. “I feel this communication is too delicate to commit to a letter. My original idea was to see him when I returned to London. But I expect to be in Kent for another fortnight at least, and perhaps longer, and that seems a long time, so I might propose meeting him at a posting inn halfway along the London road. In that way, I would not have to cut short my stay here, and inconvenience Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I could get the information to Bingley more quickly.”
The colonel, thinking he might have heard his name, excused himself from the card table and pulled up a chair next to MrDarcy. “Are you speaking of me, Cousin?”
MrDarcy sighed.“Only for a moment. I must make arrangements to see Bingley, just for an hour or so, to give him some information, and instead of going all the way to London, I will write to ask him to meet me at an inn.”
“If you are going to write to him, why can you not simply convey information within?”
“It is of a sensitive nature.”
“Is it related to the great favour you did for him recently?” The colonel waggled his brows at Elizabeth.
Her expression was more sombre. “Colonel, I must apologise for not confiding in you earlier, but the young lady that your cousin rescued MrBingley from was my elder sister.”
“No.” Elizabeth suspected that Colonel Fitzwilliam did not shock easily, but shocked he was. “That cannot be. There must be some mistake.”
“Yes, Cousin,” said MrDarcy, “and the mistake was mine, for interfering between two people who sincerely cared for one another. I will rectify that as soon as possible. In fact”—he stood up—“I am going to find a map that will show posting inns between here and London that might be suitable.”
“Let us all go,” the colonel suggested.
Miss de Bourgh turned towards the card table. “We are for the library, Mother,” and when the great lady acknowledged her with a terse nod, the four left the room.
MrDarcy pulled a map folio from the shelves, and Miss de Bourgh unfolded a few pages covering the area between Rosings and London.
Elizabeth hung back, knowing she could not be particularly useful in this task. The colonel seemed anxious to speak with her, and she could only surmise he meant to apologise.
“Miss Bennet, I regret—”
She stopped him. “Do not say another word, Colonel. You had no way of knowing what you were telling me, and your intentions were good.” She ran her hand along the books on the shelves, reading the spines. “You are forgiven. Nothing that happened to my sister is your fault.”
“Please do not despise Darcy. He truly believed he was doing the best for his friend.”
“I know that, and while I cannot excuse his officious interference, I am heartened by his willingness to tell MrBingley the truth. Now I am simply impatient for him to do it quickly, because I hope it will bring an end to Jane’s melancholy.”
She pulled a book off a shelf.
“What have you got there?”
“A novel I do not know, by an author I do not know.Possessing Equal Franknessby Natasja Rose.”
“What ofEvelina?Belinda?” The colonel gestured at the shelf.
