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Carelessly, Elizabeth tossed the missive in the discard pile, but her heart was fluttering as fast as a bird’s.
When Farley came in with lunch half an hour later, Elizabeth managed to slip the offending missive into her pocket when she crouched down to move the baskets out of the way so that a table could be positioned at Darcy’s bedside. Excusing herself momentarily, she sought out the convenience in the hall closet. As she sat on the commode, she opened the letter once more.
Dear Mr Darcy,
Please accept my sincere apologies for any misunderstanding that might have occurred during our interview last Monday. I merely had the best interests of my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, at heart. As I apprised you, rumours regarding yourself and my niece, quite ruinous to her reputation, have been circulating since the incident at the Netherfield ball....
Elizabeth flushed with mortification. Checking the date, she saw her uncle had visited Mr Darcy shortly after his return to London with Jane, to petition him on her behalf. Things were even worse than she had previously imagined! If Mr Darcy discovered who she was now, he would assume that this was her third attempt to impose upon him. Her mind flicked back to the text. What misunderstanding? She longed to continue reading, but the letter went on for some length. Conscious that she needed to return to Darcy’s presence soon and in good order, she returned it to her pocket, trying once more to calm her fluttering heart while she finished her ablutions.
After lunch, Darcy surprised Elizabeth by suggesting that she might continue reading Cecilia. She picked up the first volume, which remained on the nightstand, although the other texts from yesterday had been cleared away. After half an hour she was fairly sure from the soft snoring that Darcy had fallen asleep—he had looked a little hagged after his last bout of ‘exercise’.
She continued reading aloud, regardless, for the benefit of Finn and Clara, who had both resumed their stitchery, until a commotion in the stairwell drew her attention. To the sound of footsteps ascending, Elizabeth heard:
“I am sure that he will see me, Farley. We are such old friends!”
Elizabeth’s immediate recognition of that voice was soon confirmed by the footman:
“If you would just let me check, Mr Bingley. His reader is likely with him, or he may be exercising.”
Finn quickly parked his needle and stood up to intervene. When Clara followed him to the door, Elizabeth searched desperately for a route of escape. There was no time to reach Darcy’s dressing room on the other side of the bed. She eyed the curtains, remembering how Mr Darcy had hid in them at Netherfield, but the hems, which were an inch above the floor, would not conceal her slippers. In desperation, she discarded Cecilia on the nightstand and silently rolled under the bed.
“Leave be, man!” said Bingley as he bumped Finn out of the doorway with his shoulder, knocking him into Clara. “Ah! Darcy! There you are! What stylish glasses! Are they the new mode? I must get a pair!”
“Yes,” said Darcy drily. “They are all the crack.”
Elizabeth, who could appreciate the irony in Darcy’s voice, had to stifle a giggle, partly induced by her own ridiculous situation.
“Well, it is so good to see you again!” said Bingley.
“I wish I could say the same,” replied his friend.
Bingley had the grace to wince.
“Let me introduce you to my reader, Bingley, Miss Frances Gardiner.”
Under the bed, Elizabeth held her breath.
After a short pause, Bingley coughed and replied, “There’s no one else here, Darcy.”
“Oh! She must have slipped out when you came in. No matter.”
The chair scraped forward in front of Elizabeth’s nose as Bingley seated himself.
“Well! The goings on in the north! You would not believe it! Just because we installed one of the new looms that can weave at twice the pace! You would think that people would be glad that the factory was doing so well! It had almost doubled our profits, but we only put off a third of the workforce, not half, as we might have done. How ungrateful! Now, I am going to have to raise more capital! I had hoped the profits from that first machine would fund the installation of more machines at the other sites.”
As Bingley continued with his monologue, Elizabeth inched across the carpet under the bed, hoping she was not sullying her dress. She had almost reached the other side when Mr Bingley’s speech stopped her in her tracks.
“...and I dropped into Netherfield on the way back this morning.”
“Oh?” asked Darcy, remembering his former wish upon the Baden to return to Hertfordshire to secure Miss Elizabeth’s hand, a wish that seemed to belong to some happier alternate universe.
“Yes... I’ve decided to give Netherfield up.”
“Break the lease after the first quarter? It seems a waste...”
“I know! But Caroline declares she has no wish to return there. Without a hostess, I won’t be able to socialise. There seems little point in continuing. If I break early, I may be able to find another tenant to buy out the rest of the lease.”
“You could marry,” suggested Darcy. “Then you would have a hostess.”
