“After last evening’s events, I thought it wise to accompany Charles,” Hurst explained. “Louisa remained with Caroline, who was understandably distraught.”
“Indeed,” Darcy replied, his dark eyes studying Bingley’s expression for his reaction to the previous night’s slight, noting the unusual tightness around his normally smiling mouth. “And your thoughts on the matter, Bingley?”
“I am outraged that your cousin would insult us so.” Bingley declared, his fingers drumming an agitated rhythm on the arm of his chair. “What right has he to treat us with such contempt?”
“If I may speak candidly,” Darcy began, receiving Bingley’s curt nod, “I have cautioned you repeatedly about your sister’s penchant for malicious talk. She inexplicably considers herself superior to nearly everyone. For example, in Hertfordshire, she referred to your neighbors as ‘savages’ and ‘country mushrooms,’ despite most being landed gentlemen like myself. Her pretensions are both distasteful and common.”
“I do not recall her behaviour being so objectionable,” Bingley protested, a flush rising from his starched collar to suffuse his cheeks.
“No? Allow me to remind you how she disparaged Sir William, a knight of the realm, mocking the way he spoke and carried himself, and we all know her opinion of the Bennet family, particularly the eldest daughters. Those young ladies could do nothing to earn her approval, especially Miss Elizabeth, whom she criticised both openly and privately.”
Bingley’s normally gentle countenance darkened. “The duplicity you display is remarkable, Darcy.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Darcy’s shoulders immediately stiffened and squared.
“Let me refreshyourmemory, as it appears to have some convenient blanks.” Bingley’s words came in measured tones; each syllable clipped with restrained fury. “After the Meryton assembly, you proclaimed all you had seen was a collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, which we know as truth because you openly declared that Miss Elizabeth was tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt you to dance. My sister merely followed your example, and I place this social calamity squarely on your shoulders!”
Darcy’s jaw clenched beneath the starched points of his collar at having his conduct so plainly stated.
“I acknowledge my behaviour was wanting. My reasons are my own, and I will not discuss them here. We speak now of your sister’s actions. Hurst may not have informed you, but Viscount Ashton revealed that his mother, Lady Matlock, has deemed your sister persona non grata. You should anticipate similar treatment from others beyond my family.” He adjusted his cuffs with meticulous attention. “I suggest you both retreat northward to your relations, or perhaps sojourn in Bath, where society proves more forgiving, and your sister might secure a suitable match.”
“So, we are banished for conducting ourselves precisely as you have!” Bingley leapt to his feet with such force that his chair nearly tipped over. He glared at Darcy, nostrils flaring. “You, sir, are the very definition of hypocrisy, and I rue the day I met you.”
He turned sharply and departed, the door slamming with a resounding thud, leaving Darcy fuming in rigid silence and Hurst observing with detached amusement from behind the rim of his brandy glass.
After a moment of strained silence, Hurst cleared his throat. “I daresay that is the first occasion I have witnessed my brother-in-law lose his temper.”
“He is not wrong,” Darcy said, pressing his fingertips to the bridge of his nose to ward off an approaching headache. “His sister emulates the mannerisms of the highest circles, failing to comprehend that such behaviour from her would never find acceptance. They have no idea I abhor such affectations.”
“Yet you exhibit the very same tendencies.” At Darcy’s exasperated huff, Hurst raised a hand to stop his expected protest. “Something vexed you prior to your arrival in Hertfordshire, and it coloured your perception of everything. Your haughty demeanour did not portray you in a good light. It is no small wonder that my wife’s sister believed herself entitled to disparage everyone with impunity in her bid to win your affections.”
“I gave Miss Bingley no reason to believe her attentions were welcomed,” Darcy said stiffly, his jaw clenched so tightly that a small muscle twitched beneath his cheek.
“Perhaps not intentionally, as we have discussed, yet you did nothing to discourage her advances.”
“I beg your pardon?” Darcy’s face flushed with indignation at the suggestion that he had in any way fostered Miss Bingley’s matrimonial fantasies.
“Did you not permit her to claim your arm upon entering every gathering, where she would remain, fixed to your side until you withdrew to stand alone against some wall, gaze out upon the night gardens, or seek refreshment? Plus, you willingly agreed to spend two months at Charles’s leased estate, knowing full well you were the only unmarried gentleman invited.”
“Bingley asked me to help him learn estate management.” Darcy twisted the gold signet ring on his finger. “He also insisted it would be more of a shooting party, for he claimed invitationshad been extended to several friends.”
“I was unaware of any others,” Hurst murmured, stroking his chin in his habitual gesture of thought. “From the outset, he assured Caroline she would act as his hostess, and spoke eagerly of meeting his neighbours and ingratiating himself into their circle. He deceived either you or his sister, and given how things unfolded in Meryton, I suspect you are the one who he misled.”
“To what purpose?” Darcy frowned, the fine lines between his brows deepening as he gazed into the dancing flames of the nearby hearth. “Miss Bingley holds no particular interest for me beyond her being Bingley’s sister.”
“We both know my brother and sister would have been content with their social standing had Bingley not struck up a friendship with you. Over the years, he has cast aside every former acquaintance to focus solely on you and your circle. Leave the matter to me. I have my suspicions about my brother’s motives, though I need to confirm a few particulars before sharing them. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Darcy replied, his shoulders relaxing slightly beneath his impeccably tailored coat. “I trust you as much as my cousins. Is there anything I should do now to safeguard my family’s name and reputation?”
“Not at present,” Hurst said with a shake of his head. “I would advise your servants to bar Caroline from entering your home. She will try to inveigle an invitation to visit your sister. Close that avenue immediately. She feels no genuine regard for Miss Darcy. She views her only as a means to an end in her goal to become your wife.”
“Very well,” Darcy said, rising with fluid grace. “I shall follow your counsel and take every precaution to protect not only myself, but my sister. Thank you, Hurst. Would you and Louisajoin Georgiana and me for dinner next week?”
“I shall have Louisa send a note with our availability,” Hurst promised, raising his glass in a small salute.
With that, Darcy called for his carriage. Many troubling thoughts swirled through his mind on the ride back to his town house, each more unsettling than the last. Though confident in Hurst’s discretion, a half-forgotten conversation with Bingley nagged at his memory. Upon reaching his residence, he strode directly to his study, where he penned two letters, one to his solicitor, the other to a discreet investigator whose services had proved invaluable during the Wickham affair. The matter required delicacy; someone accustomed to navigating London’s shadowed underbelly, where gentlemen’s agreements held no sway and truth could be purchased for the right price.
Hours later, after bidding Georgiana goodnight with a distracted kiss to her forehead, Darcy returned to his study. He poured himself a generous measure of brandy and sank into his leather chair, worn smooth at the arms from generations of Darcy men contemplating family matters. As he sipped the amber liquid, his thoughts drifted to Hertfordshire. A specific conversation at Netherfield resurfaced with such clarity, the glass nearly slipped from his fingers as comprehension dawned, cold and sickening.
