Page 47 of Grief and Grievances
“Do not remind me of my foolishness.” Darcy had to laugh at his own past idiocy. “I have long admired her as one of the most beautiful women of my acquaintance, but it is far more than her beauty that has captured me.”
“Well, your affections for Miss Elizabeth Bennet have certainly taken me by surprise, Darcy,” Bingley remarked jovially, his eyes dancing with amusement. “But I must admit, her wit and charm are not lost on me.”
“Indeed, Charles,” Darcy replied, his gaze drifting towards Longbourn in the distance. “She possesses a liveliness of spirit and intelligence that I find most captivating.”
“Ah, but you must remember,” Bingley teased, gesturing expansively at the grandeur of Netherfield, “the Bennets do not possess the same social standing as your esteemed family. Will the Earl of Matlock and Lady Catherine de Bourgh countenance such a match?”
Darcy’s countenance remained composed as he considered Bingley’s words. It was true that Elizabeth’s family held no titles, no vast estates, nor any remarkable connections. And yet, her qualities far surpassed those of any lady of his acquaintance, regardless of social standing. He knew that his love for her was not merely a fleeting infatuation, but a profound affection that resonated deep within his soul.
“Bingley,” he began resolutely, “I am well aware of the disparity between our stations, and I assure you that I have given this matter considerable thought. Nonetheless, I believe that my feelings for Elizabeth are strong enough to withstand the scrutiny of society, and I am my own man, not beholden to my uncle or aunt—who both hold her in the highest esteem after her kindnesses to my cousin Anne, anyway.”
Bingley’s teasing smile softened, replaced by genuine warmth and understanding. “Then I wish you the utmost happiness in your pursuit, my friend,” he said sincerely. “For who are we to let society dictate the matters of our hearts?”
“Thank you,” Darcy replied, touched by his friend’s support. “And now that I have shared my own sentiments, it is only fair that I inquire after your happiness with Miss Jane Bennet.”
“Ah, Jane...” Bingley sighed blissfully, his eyes shining with affection as he spoke her name. “I am most fortunate to have found such a kind and gentle soul to share my life with. I have not yet proposed, but I hope she will welcome my declaration in the next few days.”
“I do not doubt it,” Darcy concurred, pleased to see his friend so content. “May your love for one another continue to flourish, Bingley. Miss Bennet is worthy of your heart, I am sure of it, and will make you very happy.” He offered his hand, and Bingley shook it with grinning enthusiasm.
Despite their current celebratory mood, Darcy knew it was time to broach a matter that weighed heavily on his mind.
“Charles,” Darcy began, his tone serious, “I must confide in you about Mr. Wickham’s current predicament.”
Bingley’s brow furrowed, his jovial expression giving way to concern. “What has befallen him now?”
“His debts have accumulated to such an extent that he will shortly become persona non grata among the tradespeople of Meryton,” Darcy revealed, his voice laden with disdain. “I fear that, as a consequence, he may resort to desperate measures.”
“Good heavens!” Bingley exclaimed, aghast at the notion. “How did you come by this information?”
“Mr. Bennet apprised me of the situation.” Darcy hesitated, his thoughts turning inward for a moment. “You understand, Charles, that my primary concern is for Georgiana’s safety. With her residing here at Netherfield and Wickham’s proximity, I cannot help but be apprehensive.”
“Of course,” Bingley replied, comprehension dawning in his eyes. “Your sister’s well-being is paramount.”
“Indeed,” Darcy murmured, his heart heavy with the memories of Wickham’s deception and the anguish it had wrought upon his family. “I would spare her any further distress or potential danger, should Wickham choose to retaliate, as he will doubtless blame me for his troubles, even though they are of his own making.”
“Of course, Darcy,” Bingley replied without hesitation. “What would you have me do?”
“First and foremost,” Darcy said, “we must ensure that she is never left alone. Wickham is a man capable of great deceit and malice. I fear what he might do if given the opportunity to harm her.”
“Rest assured, my friend,” Bingley said resolutely, leaning forward in his chair. “I will personally see to it that Miss Darcy is accompanied at all times. I shall instruct my staff accordingly and make certain that both Caroline and Louisa are aware of our concerns.”
“Your support is most appreciated, Charles,” Darcy replied, feeling a slight easing of the tension that had coiled within him like a tightly wound spring. With Georgiana’s safety assured, he could concentrate on his courtship of Elizabeth. He just hoped that his inadvertently revealing his feelings to Mr. Bennet would not cause any trouble—he could only imagine the pressure that might be put on Elizabeth to accept him if Mrs. Bennet discovered that Darcy had proposed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
UnbeknownsttoDarcyandBingley as they consulted, their conversation was being overheard. Caroline Bingley stood just outside the study door, her ear pressed to the timber.
Beneath the veneer of her self-assured visage, Caroline’s pulse quickened as she strained to hear the details of their exchange, and most particularly, to hear Darcy’s answer to Bingley’s question of to whom his heart was engaged. She prayed to hear her own name, but even in her own vanity and pride, admitted to herself that he had given her no signs. Some lady in London or Kent must have caught his eye, and Caroline’s hands clenched into fists of rage.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Darcy finally replied, and Caroline sagged against the door, all colour draining from her face. Although she had long suspected Darcy’s partiality for Elizabeth, hearing him express it so plainly was an affront she could scarcely endure. A knot of jealousy and resentment tightened in her chest; she knew she must act with cunning and precision to disrupt any burgeoning attachment between them. The very idea that he would bestow his affections upon a woman so far beneath him in both rank and fortune was utterly repugnant. Eliza Bennet as mistress of Pemberley was not to be endured!
“Brother, you are welcome to pursue Miss Bennet if you so choose,” she whispered under her breath, her voice tinged with bitterness. “But do not expect me to stand idly by and condone such a disastrous union as this!”
In her agitated state, Caroline could think of nothing else but how she might counteract Darcy’s plans. Her eyes darted around, seeking any means by which she could turn the tide in her favour.
“Perhaps a letter to Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” she mused, her thoughts racing. “Could she not be persuaded to intervene on the grounds of family honour?”
But as quickly as the idea surfaced, Caroline dismissed it. No, she needed something more potent, something that would strike at the very heart of Darcy’s affection for Elizabeth Bennet. A smile flickered across her lips as an idea began to form, taking root like a poisonous vine. Her mind whirred with possibilities, each more cunning than the last, and she felt a newfound sense of purpose.
