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Bingley exchanged a glance with Darcy but did not correct his sister’s mistake. Darcy restrained the urge to fidget in his chair as he imagined everything that could have befallen the Bennets.
“Surely you have heard some news from Longbourn,” Bingley said.
“Indeed…” Miss Bingley drew the word out. She was taking pleasure in the suspense. Darcy’s heart beat faster, knowing that whatever she said would be bad. She would not derive such pleasure from relating news of the family’s extreme felicity. “Shortly after you departed, the father died.”
Darcy could not prevent a gasp. If he had known, he never would have left. If he had known, he would have returned. He was angry with himself for not discovering the news and with Bingley’s sisters for not relaying it. During the early part of the voyage, he had been so intent on endeavoring to forget Elizabeth that he had not sought to know about her family, and this was the result.
“Did Mr. Collins take possession of Longbourn?” Darcy attempted to keep his tone neutral and disinterested.
“Mr. Collins?” Miss Bingley asked. “Oh yes, the clergyman. I suppose so.”
Bingley’s pale face mirrored Darcy’s own distress. “How terrible for Ja—all the Bennets!” Bingley exclaimed. “Where do the sisters reside now?”
A fist clenched around Darcy’s heart. Although he knew change was inevitable, some part of him had secretly expected to find Elizabeth dwelling with her parents at Longbourn just as she had when he departed.
Mrs. Hurst rolled her eyes. “They are hardly the sort of family we would maintain a connection with. How should we know?”
Bingley frowned. “I thought at least you would condole with them, write them a note expressing your sympathy, invite them for tea when they visited town.”
“I am not aware that anyone from the family has been to town,” Mrs. Hurst replied.
Strange. Darcy remembered clearly that the Bennets had relatives in Cheapside. Although Elizabeth might have guessed at Bingley’s sisters’ insincerity, Miss Bennet seemed to believe them true friends. Surely she would have written to them if she visited town—at the very least to maintain a connection with Bingley. Was it possible she had remained sequestered in Hertfordshire all these months? It was scarcely thirty miles’ distance!
The sisters were sharing a conspiratorial smile that triggered Darcy’s suspicions. Surely anything that made these two so very gleeful could not be good for the Bennets.
He crumpled his napkin in frustration. I cannot ask them. I cannot betray too much interest. Patience, he counseled himself. I will learn everything soon.
It was possible they were lying about receiving correspondence from the Bennets. They had concealed Jane’s presence from Bingley before—with Darcy’s help. How he bitterly regretted that subterfuge now! It was quite possible that Miss Bennet had written or even visited London and the Bingley sisters had ignored her.
Darcy drained the last of the coffee from his cup, thanking providence that he was not completely reliant on Miss Bingley for news of Elizabeth Bennet. In fact, she seemed rather put out that neither man had begged her for details about the family. After a long pause, Bingley questioned her about a family acquaintance Darcy did not know.
Briggs entered the breakfast room. “Mr. Timson to see you, sir.”
Excellent timing. Darcy stood. “Very good. Show him to my study.” He spoke to his guests. “You must excuse me. A man from my solicitor on a matter of some urgency.”
“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley drawled. “You must have any number of important tasks to complete after such a long absence.”
Darcy quitted the room with dispatch and ventured down the hall with long strides. Mr. Timson, a tall, thin man with a scraggly mustache, was standing by the fireplace in the study when Darcy entered. After closing the door, Darcy shook the man’s hand, introduced himself, and gestured the man to one of the wingback chairs by the hearth. “Would you like a glass of brandy?”
The man’s eyebrows rose, as well they might. It was a bit early in the day for spirits, but Darcy was fairly certain he would need something to fortify himself. “No thank you, sir.”
After pouring himself a glass, Darcy took the other chair by the fireplace. “So, you are the man Wright chose for the assignment?”
Timson inclined his head. “I have a cousin in that part of Hertfordshire, so it was a simple matter of visiting her—without arousing any suspicion.”
Wright had taken Darcy’s request for discretion seriously. “Excellent. A paid holiday.”
Timson grimaced. “You would think so, but you have not tasted my cousin’s cooking. And I believe her children are noisy enough they could hear them on the other side of the Channel.”
Darcy was in no mood for small talk. “What did you learn?” Months ago, knowing they would soon return to England, Darcy had asked his solicitor to send someone to Meryton and learn the fate of the Bennet family—although
he had not expressed an interest in any particular member of the family. Any hint of his interest in Elizabeth could be misconstrued. Fortunately, a visiting relative might learn about happenings in the neighborhood without being too conspicuous.
The man settled into the chair, fiddling nervously with the brim of his hat.
“Mr. Bennet died of a fit of apoplexy in 1813. Mr. Collins and his wife took possession of the Longbourn estate almost immediately. They allowed Mrs. Bennet and her daughters to continue to live in the family home.”
The fist around Darcy’s heart loosened slightly; at least they had a place to live. Now he could ask the question that had caused so much trepidation. He gripped the arms of the chair as if bracing for pain. “Do all the daughters still reside at Longbourn?”
