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Bingley could barely bring himself to be civil to Darcy’s butler when the man opened the door. Perhaps sensing his mood, the butler merely gave Bingley his accumulated post and inquired when he would like dinner served.
Trudging up the stairs to his room, Bingley examined the pile of letters. The top one was from Darcy, dated only two days ago. Perhaps word from Rosings Park could distract him from his troubles. He ripped it open and tilted it toward the lamplight as he sank onto the edge of his bed.
Bingley,
I believe I owe you an apology. I did not fully credit your feelings for Miss Bennet. If you are experiencing one tenth what I feel, then you are suffering indeed. After less than a week at Rosings Park, I realized how wrong I had been in believing I had overcome my feelings for Elizabeth Bennet. My attraction to her is stronger than ever. When we inhabit the same room, I must be near her—drawn toward her as if by a magnetic force. When I am not with her, my thoughts are occupied by the sound of her voice, the recollections of our conversations, the memory of her fine eyes. I have sought out every possible distraction and reminded myself of the evils of her family’s connections, but it will not do. No other woman has ever enchanted me like Miss Elizabeth.
I have resolved upon making her an offer. Her family remains entirely objectionable, but that is nothing compared to the thought of living the rest of my life without her. I will await an opportunity to find her alone and make my offer…
Bingley lifted his eyes from the letter in astonishment. His friend’s change of heart was as abrupt as it was complete. Earlier, Darcy had described his feelings for Miss Elizabeth as a passing fancy, easily overcome. Although Bingley had harbored doubts, this letter revealed how deeply the attachment ran.
However, Darcy’s interactions with Jane’s sister had always displayed an…unusual intensity. Even when he had spoken little to her, Darcy had watched Miss Elizabeth. He had engaged her in conversation more than many other women—or men. Although her manner appeared to irritate him, Darcy often had sought out her company.
Good Lord, Darcy really is in love with her.
Still, the news was shocking. Darcy planned to propose to Miss Elizabeth! In fact, he might have already done so during the two days the letter took to reach London. The thought lightened Bingley’s heart; if his friend proposed to Jane’s sister, he could not possibly object to Bingley proposing to Jane. When it became widely known that the master of Pemberley had made an offer to Elizabeth Bennet, the whole family would be elevated in the eyes of the ton. Jane Bennet would become a far less objectionable choice. Bingley’s alliance with the Bennet family would have few consequences for Caroline’s marital prospects.
In fact, Jane would become an object of fascination in the city. Darcy had been one of the greatest prizes on the marriage mart for years. When it became known that Elizabeth Bennet had caught him, the entire family would be subject to scrutiny and attention.
As the only family representative in town, Jane would receive more than her share of attention from women…and men—particularly men who had no need of a well-heeled wife but who would notice how very beautiful she was. By far the most beautiful woman who had ever lived.
Bingley’s breaths were coming in ragged gasps. None of this had come to pass, he reminded himself. Yet he was gripped by an urge to race out of the door for Cheapside.
He grabbed the counterpane with both hands, as if that could prevent him from haring off to propose. Caroline’s threat remains, he reminded himself. Their engagement might still be seen as resulting from Jane’s entrapment. There were good reasons to delay.
Caution dictated that Bingley at least wait until Darcy’s betrothal was a fait accompli. However, Miss Elizabeth would surely accept the proposal; no woman would refuse Fitzwilliam Darcy. They were as good as married. Once their engagement became known, suitors would flock to Gracechurch Street in search of Jane.
Bingley’s heart beat so loudly he feared it might burst from his chest.
Patience had never been Bingley’s greatest strength, and he had already waited overly long—in his opinion—to secure Jane’s hand. No,
he simply could not delay another day. Another hour. Another minute. Perhaps they could postpone the announcement of the engagement until after Darcy’s news was made public.
But Bingley would obtain Jane’s promise today.
Following this resolution, Bingley summoned Harvey to help him find an appropriate set of evening clothes. He refused to make an offer of marriage in dirty, travel-worn clothing.
The whole process took longer than Bingley would have liked, although Harvey complained of being rushed as he debated the benefits of the gold waistcoat or the blue. Finally, Bingley’s appearance was acceptable to both, and he was free to hurry down the stairs and out of the front entrance to summon his carriage.
Sitting in the coach, Bingley kneaded his thighs with trembling hands. Obtaining her consent was not a simple matter. During his long absence he had not been able to write to Jane. He had considered writing to her uncle, but Bingley barely knew the man.
What if Jane believed he had lost interest? Or she had met another, more suitable man? Or she had returned to Longbourn?
Bingley wished he could climb up to the driver’s seat and urge the horse to greater speed. The progress to Cheapside seemed painfully slow, allowing Bingley to imagine every possible catastrophe en route.
When the carriage arrived at Gracechurch Street, Bingley barely waited for the vehicle to stop before he launched himself through the door. Within seconds he was knocking on the door to the Gardiners’ house.
The footman who opened the door seemed a bit bewildered at his sudden appearance on the doorstep. “I am here to call upon Miss Bennet. Is she at home?”
The man stared for a long moment, keeping Bingley in an agony of suspense. Finally, he intoned, “Miss Bennet has accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner out for the evening.”
Damnation! Bingley could hardly await their return, which might not be until the early hours of the morning. Prudence dictated that he should simply return tomorrow, but Bingley was of no mind to heed prudence.
“Where have they gone?” he demanded.
The man blinked. It was a rather impertinent question; Bingley had no right to know the Gardiners’ personal business. “I must see Miss Bennet urgently,” Bingley added. If the footman assumed Bingley bore some dreadful news for Jane, that was not his fault.
The man’s brows furrowed with concern. “They are attending a ball at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Martin.”
