Page 28 of The Work of a Moment

He must be in town to manage the situation and to shield her and her reputation from further injury. First, however, he would send instructions to Darcy House to turn away the Bingleys and Hursts and a note to Mrs Annesley to ensure his sister declined their invitations.

Darcy stormed into the house, unmindful of anything but reaching his rooms and his writing desk. Perhaps it was his uncharacteristic cursing or the loud tread of his boots on the stairs that caught Fitzwilliam’s ear, for only moments later, his cousin burst into the corridor and stopped him only two doors from his chambers.

“You disappear last night, abandoning me to the wrath of our aunt and the idiocies of her parson, and leave me to breakfast alone as well?” Fitzwilliam’s red-faced bluster seemed a bit exaggerated to Darcy, certainly far less serious than Caroline Bingley’s traitorous schemes or a battlefield skirmish.

“Your desertion is not the worst of it,” said Fitzwilliam. “You have rankled my dear mama, who sent me an express demanding to know whether you have received her most recent letter—an accusation which infuriated Lady Catherine, who feels the gesture is an insult to her household.”

“Lady Catherine should do more than feel the insult, she should learn why the post goes astray so often in her house—or never arrives at all,” Darcy said, rubbing his eyes before wondering at the reason for such high emotions. “Lady Matlock’s letter? Is it the babe?”

Fitzwilliam shook his head. “Something about your friend Bingley. The man is so far beneath her notice that unless you gave him free rein of Darcy House, I cannot imagine why Mama asked after him.”

Darcy strode rapidly to his room, cursing his reluctance to open Lady Matlock’s missive. After yanking open the drawer into which he had tossed it, he found his aunt’s letter. It was short and to the point, without the expected mention of a young lady he must meet or which ball he must attend. No, she was furious, and with good reason.

I have done my best to put down scurrilous rumours that Georgiana would soon be engaged to that tradesman you call a friend. Imagine—a man in trade! She, a girl of scarcely sixteen, the niece of an earl—tied to a man whose fortune came from sailcloth! He may be your little project, but his sisters are vulgar mushrooms!

You know of my present need to be in Surrey. This horrid speculation was made known to me through the kind attentions of Lady Dalburton, who wrote to me after overhearing a young lady ask another whether ‘Miss Darcy’s nuptials would be put off so that she might first have a Season’. You cannot fathom my indignation. I know not where such black-hearted gossip arose, nor even if Georgiana is aware of her name being bandied about—I fear alarming the dear girl. Although she is too delicate and too young to be near a birthing room, and I can offer her little attention, you must send her and her companion to me and then discover the name of the blackguard passing around such mendacious falsehoods before the earl sets his dogs on them.

Cursing anew as he crumpled the letter, Darcy thrust the letter at his cousin and proceeded to tell him of what he had learnt from Elizabeth. Fitzwilliam’s outrage nearly matched his own, but Darcy requested he remain at Rosings to collect any further post and ensure Lady Catherine learnt nothing of the events. After collecting a promise from his cousin to inform Elizabeth of his reasons for leaving so hastily, Darcy called for his valet.

Dawn’s light be damned, he would ride to town immediately. He had nearly failed his sister before by neglecting to think she could fall victim to Wickham. This time, because he had ignored the warnings in Hadley’s and the countess’s letters, any damage to her reputation would be entirely his fault.

And Miss Bingley’s!

CHAPTER 22

Misguided Wrath

After an early morning walk brought no sign of Mr Darcy, Elizabeth stared at the faded wallpaper in Hunsford’s parlour and worried over her next opportunity to see him. Perhaps she might encounter him on an afternoon walk in the direction of the old maze? She wished desperately to apologise to him and canvass his well-being. The thought that he might throttle or cut either of the Bingleys gnawed at her conscience. Her remorse about misjudging at least one aspect of Mr Bingley’s character remained fresh, but it was Mr Darcy’s almost violent response to her disclosure about Miss Bingley that troubled her. Was there more to the lady’s hopes and assertions about Miss Darcy, something that truly alarmed him?

Surely Mr Bingley has his faults, but he would not betray his friendship with Mr Darcy by dawdling with his sister, a girl of only sixteen!

She could not discount that his anger might also be directed towards her for not disclosing Miss Bingley’s words earlier.

“Mrs Collins! Come quickly! I have need of your assistance.”

Elizabeth cringed at the wheedling voice of her cousin sounding through the parsonage. Charlotte set aside her sewing basket and, visibly unhappy to be so beckoned, rose from her seat in the parlour.

Sighing, as the monotony of her task confined her for another hour or two, Elizabeth reapplied herself to the dress she was mending for the parsonage charity basket. She had been at work for only a few minutes when Charlotte returned.

“Lizzy, the post has arrived. You have two letters from Cheapside, which I hope will relieve you of your mulligrubs.” She looked expectantly at Elizabeth, undoubtedly hoping to continue her earlier efforts to pry further about the cause of her friend’s dull spirits.

Elizabeth merely smiled and reached eagerly for her letters. “Jane and my aunt have been too occupied to write, and you know I feared they were becoming dilatory correspondents like my papa.”

Beyond Sir William and Lady Lucas, whose letters brought Charlotte a feeling of home as well as admonishments about pleasing her husband and Lady Catherine, Charlotte’s most regular correspondents were currently visiting her at the parsonage. Thus she was eager for any news of those leading lively, interesting lives. Elizabeth felt her friend watching her as she read Jane’s letter and accordingly shared titbits that did not disclose any of her sister’s feelings. In fact, Jane had written little of Mr Catesby beyond recounting her enjoyment of their expedition to Kew Gardens. Elizabeth glanced at the date on the letter. It had been written some eight days ago! Disturbed by her sister’s unusual laxity in posting the letter, Elizabeth hesitated to ask Charlotte if delivery of the post was delayed often—or if perhaps it was sent first to Rosings. Her friend gazed at her expectantly, clearly hopeful of some happy aside to carry her through the long hours of her days here.

“Jane says our cousin Susan has announced she will marry Captain Catesby but fears it may be a very long engagement as she is just now learning her numbers,” Elizabeth said in a merry voice. “Oh, to be scarcely six years old and have one’s husband decided.”

“A rival for you, Lizzy! You are a favourite of this Captain Catesby, and both Mr Wickham and Colonel Fitzwilliam have been rather fond of your company.” Charlotte grinned. “Lydia would be quite envious of your position with these redcoats.”

“Captain Catesby is in the Navy.”

“Still, he is a man in uniform.”

Elizabeth frowned at the blitheness of her friend’s opinion. “A gentleman of limited means must be prudent in his attachments, and so must a lady of small dowry.”

“Prudence does not preclude a chance at happiness.”

Despite thinking Charlotte must remind herself of that adage every day, Elizabeth assured her, “I have no interest beyond friendship with two of them. The other I hope never to meet again.” She wished to see only one man, to ensure he was well. And that he does not resent me.