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Fitz looked smug. “In a hurry, are we?”
Darcy made no answer to his cousin. There was no need to encourage him.
As they cleared Netherfield’s borders, Fitz maneuvered his mount within speaking distance and began. “I am not sure the Bingleys targeted Miss Elizabeth. Bingley himself does not seem ruthless enough.”
“He maintained his position with me well enough,” Darcy grumbled.
Fitz snorted. “Did Bingley try to prevent you from leaving his home before you had made his sister assurances? Has he done anything to discredit you since, to force you to the point? Did he follow you to London, start a rumor about you or Miss Elizabeth? As a fortune hunter and a schemer, he is rather a disappointment.”
Darcy considered this. Bingley had clearly expected his initial plan to work and had not created contingencies if it did not. He lifted his shoulders and let them fall. “Did you learn anything new?”
Fitz nodded. “I told Bingley you sent me to speak with him about Miss Jane Bennet. He took it as a sign that you were recovering from what he termed your ‘pique’ with him and became quite loquacious as to his intentions with her. It is essentially as we surmised: Bingley believes Mrs. Bennet’s proclamation, as a number of the families hereabouts have repeated her claim. He does seem smitten with Miss Bennet, but without the financial inducement, it is difficult to know whether he would have pursued her. In his mind, she is a wonderful solution to his current problem, a beautiful woman with the promise of an estate. He did not own to me that he had lost so much of his fortune. Whatever she said in her note declining his visit he has not taken seriously.”
“He disregards it at his own peril, I think,” Darcy replied, and watched his cousin’s response closely.
Fitz’s expression did not change. “Bingley does owe money, Darce. He lost a large wager early in the year to a man named Walter Howard. Bingley mentioned Howard as regards the bet, but nothing more. When I asked just now, Miss Bingley confirmed that her brother had invited Howard to the ball. She said nothing about a wager, but then, she may not know.” He glanced over at Darcy. “Was there not a Howard on our list?”
“Yes, Walter Howard,” Darcy replied immediately. “I did not know he and Bingley were acquainted, but Sir William’s description of the man with the large ears, long hair, and without the proper attire made me think of him. It is only that he always wears spectacles, and Sir William was sure his man did not.” He considered the unlikeliness of the connection. “It makes no sense. Howard clings to his honor more rigidly than any man I know.”
“Including you? Remarkable,” Fitz remarked.
Darcy shook his head. “He has good principles. Though I am surprised he has been betting. To my knowledge, he always eschewed it entirely.” He pursed his lips. “Howard is the one who wanted me to marry his sister early last March.”
His cousin was quiet for a moment. “Did he believe the babe was yours?”
“No!” Darcy exclaimed, shocked at the question. “He never made any such claim, and you know I would never . . .”
Fitz held up his hands, palms out. “You say he is a man of honor. It is just curious he would risk you knowing his secret if he did not believe you already knew.”
They trotted on without speaking, guiding their mounts fluidly around a slow-moving cart. When it was well behind them on the road, Darcy addressed Fitz again. “I am sorry to say it, Fitz, but similar requests have been made of me before.” The surprise on his cousin’s face was clear. The anger was unexpected.
“Who?” Fitz demanded. “You did not mention this when we made the list.”
Darcy sighed. “I tell you this only because of this mess I am in. You must swear to be discreet. The girls were quite young, prey to men like Wickham.” Knowing as much as he did about how easily a young girl could be seduced, he ought to have been more careful of Georgiana. But they were Darcys, and Darcys did not succumb to such temptations. Until they did.
“If you had been less discreet, you might have received fewer insults of this sort,” Fitz grumbled, but he agreed to keep Darcy’s confidence.
“Fawkner and Masterman, after I inherited.” Darcy felt a wave of melancholy crash over him. He knew the whispers about him not being interested in women had begun at Cambridge, and was certain he had Wickham to thank for that. “Perhaps they believe that since I had shown no inclination to marry that who my bride was would not matter, only what she brought with her. Money and connections were a part of each offer, and they were significant.”
Fitz was quiet, evaluating him, but Darcy said nothing more. He was so very weary of the ton. He had loved London once. The museums, Angelo’s, lectures, theatre, opera, the bookstores, his club . . . it was a place of infinite variety. Except on the marriage market, where the demands for his attention had grown more and more insistent and the women had all begun to run together.
None of them stood out in the way Elizabeth did—her unaffected beauty, her genuine concern for others, her sharp wit that was as often turned against herself as others. Darcy was nothing more than a target in London, a man who had come into his fortune young, who would not be an heir-in-waiting until he was forty. As though the death of his father was an asset. He knew without asking that Elizabeth would not see the loss of a beloved parent in such a way.
Darcy maneuvered his mount around a hardened rut in the road while his cousin returned his attention to Bingley.
“He would never own Longbourn himself, of course,” Fitz said, “but he does not seem to mind.” He sniffed. “If this scheme was successful, Bingley would act as trustee until his eldest son came of age, and he would then consider his promise to his father fulfilled, both through the acquisition of such a property and by marrying the daughter of a landed gentleman. He explained he would use his fortune to expand Longbourn once his heir is born, though he did not mention how that fortune has been depleted.” Fitz glanced over at Darcy. “According to Bingley, he believed you and his sister were friends and would make a decent enough match of it. I supposed that to mean that her expenses would become your problem.”
“Did he invite me to Netherfield with this end in mind?” Darcy inquired.
Fitz shrugged. “He did not say, but I would presume he did. He certainly did not admit that as your brother, he would have approached you for assistance remedying his financial predicament, but I suspect that he would have done that as well.” Fitz frowned. “Perhaps Howard is the one who encouraged him to saddle you with her? I am sorry to say it, but Bingley might not have thought of it on his own. He is not deficient, but he does not seem much of a plotter, either.”
“But why would Howard care whether I was married to Miss Bingley? And why would Bingley not lay the blame on Howard if it were true?” Darcy asked, frustrated.
“If Howard is the man you say he is, perhaps it is not,” Fitz replied. “Miss Bingley would not hand over the guest list, but she did let me read it. She confirmed that a Mr. Webb and a Mr. Seymour were present. Did we not discuss them as well?”
Darcy nodded. He had not seen them either, but he realized, thinking back, that he recalled little other than Elizabeth. Her clumsy first partner, the young officer with whom she had danced the second. The Lucas boy who had asked her for the third. Darcy had asked her to dance before he realized what he was doing and was silently thrilled when she had said yes. Still, he had to wait for her next open set. He had been given Bingley’s message just before he led Elizabeth to the floor.
They rode along for a time, the only sound that of the horses’ hooves hitting the packed dirt of the road. Could Miss Bingley have been mistaken? Had Howard truly been at the ball? And if so, could Howard have been involved in Bingley’s scheme?
Darcy kept his head down as they entered Meryton. So determined was he not to be recognized that it was only Fitz’s voice, raised in falsely jovial tone, that broke into his thoughts.
“Wickham!” his cousin called merrily. “Well met!”
