Page 34 of The Work of a Moment

“Indeed. An innocent one who trusts those she knows, the friends that I, her brother and guardian, have deemed safe, benign company. The abuse of that trust is intolerable.”

It seemed the gravity of the inquisition had finally penetrated Bingley’s thick skull, for his brow furrowed in concern. “You are my friend, and when Caroline suggested Miss Darcy was lonely whilst you were in Kent, I thought it an uncharacteristic kindness on her part to show such compassion. I assure you our time in company has been as family friends. Harmless. They played music. We strolled through the park when the weather was fine.” He rubbed his face and groaned. “Caroline is too vain to accept your lack of interest in her, and this is how she hopes to fully connect our families? As your sister rather than as your wife? I apologise for her audacious behaviour.”

Then he smiled the ingratiating, apologetic grin Darcy had seen countless times over the years of their friendship. At times, he had found it foolishly endearing. No longer. Irritation rose as he saw Bingley failing once again to address his sister’s brazen conduct and the many consequences of it. Gripping the arms of Bingley’s chair, Darcy leant towards him and gave him a cold look.

“Do you not see how she has played you for a fool? After you charmed and cried off Miss Wabshaw, you have been seen in Georgiana’s company, giving proof to the rumours begun in letters your sister wrote to Miss Bennet that declared your connexion to my sister was neatly done, with nothing left to arrange.”

“What?”

It was fortunate Bingley was seated and had a bottle of brandy near at hand, for Darcy spent the next few minutes explaining how Caroline had discouraged Miss Bennet’s hopes by using Georgiana’s good name and pure heart.

After bemoaning the pain given to Miss Bennet, he gave Darcy a grave look. “Your dear sister has not been wounded, has she?”

“Fortunately, Georgiana knows nothing of your sister’s motives, but word of the insinuations has reached some in society—including my aunt, Lady Matlock.”

Bingley’s expression drained of anger. “I-I… Um, Darcy, I had no idea. Caroline was so eager to provide your sister amusement. I was never once alone with her. You must believe me. Oh, bollocks.” He leant across the table and grasped Darcy’s arm tight enough it seemed he might faint if he let go. “If you demand it, I shall do the honourable thing. I shall be the best brother to you and the best husband to Miss Darcy.”

“No! Damnation, Bingley, you will not marry my sister!”

Bingley fell back into his seat. “Oh, thank goodness. I do not want her injured, but I… My heart is already given to Miss Bennet.”

Darcy repressed the urge to snort, roll his eyes, or reveal his disbelief by any other means. “Miss Bennet? I understood you were giving up Netherfield.”

“I had thought to, but I have found her again.” He smiled at Darcy, his expression taking on a wistful, preoccupied look. “She is in town with her aunt and uncle—the relations in trade? It is a charming home, and she is so beautiful⁠—”

“And she is forgiving of your behaviour?” Darcy said sharply. He would not stand for it, a man so irresolute he could not see he was a pawn in his sister’s machinations and who might sow confusion and once again destroy Elizabeth’s sister’s heart. “You abandoned Netherfield, came to town, were seen escorting Miss Wabshaw, and then your sister claimed you were nearly engaged to my sister. How would a lady as demure as Miss Bennet ever believe in you?”

“She has a good heart⁠—”

“Which you broke!”

Bingley’s face lit up. “I knew she cared for me,” he said triumphantly before vowing, “I shall fix it.”

Darcy’s exasperation grew. “You have been seen squiring at least one lady since December. Miss Bennet is a handsome lady who likely has attracted her own suitors. You are pursuing her at risk of inciting one of them to challenge you to a duel.” When he saw Bingley at last appeared uncertain—the man had never quite understood the use of metaphors or figurative speech—he asked, “Has she welcomed your company?”

“I have called twice, and she has said nothing of a suitor,” Bingley protested. “I admit she has been even quieter than I recall in Hertfordshire, but given the pain caused her by Caroline’s prevarications…” He muttered an oath under his breath. “Yes. I am certain that once I explain it all and regain Miss Bennet’s trust and friendship, she will accept the renewal of my affections.”

The renewal of his affections! The disgust Darcy felt upon hearing those words could not be overstated. There was no purpose in telling such a bottle-headed fool that his own reckless behaviour had led Elizabeth to discourage her sister’s interest in him. Certainly, Bingley did not need to know how Darcy had learnt such information. It could only add fire to his attempt to renew the attachment through slavish apologies and explanations.

“What of Miss Bingley, who went to such lengths to ensure Miss Bennet would abandon hope because your true affections were with my young sister?”

Bingley scowled. “I shall deal with Caroline. She will not stand in my way, nor undertake any further measures to make Jane unhappy.”

“I would not count on your sister honouring your request, but you must yield to Miss Bennet’s wishes.”

Bingley raised his chin in defiance before sitting back in his chair. “I am quite determined, Darcy. You would not be seeing me presently but that I received a note only an hour ago from her aunt, Mrs Gardiner, requesting I refrain from calling⁠—”

“There, you see?”

“—as her niece had arrived unexpectedly.”

Darcy tensed, wondering which of the ill-behaved younger girls was in London. “Her niece?”

“Miss Elizabeth.”

Ignoring the greeting coming from within a large group of men at a card table, Darcy strode out of the building, weaving through the throngs of young cocks strutting about and waving their foils at one another in the Albany’s courtyard, each an obstacle to his impatience to gain his carriage and his solitude and to think.

Elizabeth is in town, with her sister and her aunt and uncle. Had she not another fortnight at the parsonage? What could have compelled her to abandon her visit to her friend? Did she no longer wish to remain there upon learning he had left Rosings?