Page 72 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
“I dare say it was. For it seems poor Mrs Darcy here was unaware of her husband’s machinations, even if she knew of her mother’s.”
“Pray excuse me,” Elizabeth said, pushing her chair back so fast her napkin fell to the ground. “I find myself suddenly indisposed.”
She departed with haste but Darcy saw the trembling of her hands. He started to rise, intent on following her, but his uncle’s hand fell upon his arm.
“Let her go, Darcy,” Lord Matlock murmured. “She will need a moment to collect herself.”
“This is your doing,” Darcy said to Lady Catherine, his voice low with fury.
“I merely shared information that had come to my attention,” his aunt replied, unrepentant.
Darcy stood. “Excuse me. I must attend to my wife.”
He found Elizabeth in the library, standing by the window with her back to the door. Moonlight silvered her profile, revealing a stillness that bespoke profound distress.
“Elizabeth,” he began, closing the door behind him.
“Is it true?” she demanded. “Did you separate Jane and Mr Bingley?”
Darcy inclined his head. “Yes.”
“Why?” The single word hung between them, weighted with accusation.
“I advised Bingley to create distance between himself and your sister, to test if her affections were genuine and would endure separation. I also indicated that her interests in him may be motivated by finances more so than affection.”
“So, you appointed yourself the arbiter of their futures,” Elizabeth said, her voice rising. “You decided, based on your narrow observations, that Jane’s feelings required testing.”
“I acted in what I believed was my friend’s best interest,” Darcy said. “Bingley is easily influenced, quick to form attachments. I wished to protect him from an imprudent connection.”
“An imprudent connexion,” Elizabeth repeated bitterly. “Like your own marriage to me, perhaps? Is that why you have withdrawn these past days? Have you come to regret your proposing to me?”
“That is unfair, Elizabeth. I have never regretted our marriage.”
“Yet you look down upon my family with such disdain that you feel entitled to intervene in their affairs. You play with the happiness of others as if they were mere chessmen.”
“I admit I erred in the case of Bingley and your sister,” Darcy said, struggling to contain his frustration. “I should not have interfered. But can you claim perfect conduct in our marriage? Did you not conceal your acquaintance with Wickham?”
“I did, and I regret it. But my sin was one of omission, not commission. I did not actively seek to harm anyone.”
“Nor did I,” Darcy protested. “I genuinely believed I was protecting Bingley. I overheard your mother pressing you for money and it coloured my judgement. That conversation, combined with my lingering hurt over the Wickham matter, led me to question your family’s motives.”
“You know nothing of Jane’s heart,” Elizabeth said, trembling with indignation. “My sister’s temperament is reserved, her manner is gentle. But her attachment to Mr Bingley was real and deep, as was his to her, before you saw fit to separate them.”
Darcy’s certainty faltered. “If I have misjudged, I shall write to Bingley at once. I shall explain and encourage him to return to Netherfield.”
“It may be too late,” Elizabeth replied, tears glistening. “Jane’s heart is broken, and the neighbourhood has observed Bingley’s departure. His pride may prevent him from returning now.”
“I shall do what I can to rectify the situation,” Darcy insisted.
Elizabeth turned away. “I thought we might build something real. I believed we had discovered genuine regard. But how can I trust a man who would dismiss my sister’s happiness in such a cavalier manner? A man who thinks so little of my family’s integrity?”
“Elizabeth, please—”
“No,” she interrupted. “When we return to London, I shall consult a solicitor regarding an annulment. Our marriage has never been consummated, so there should be no impediment.”
The words struck Darcy like a physical blow. “You cannot mean that.”
“I do,” Elizabeth said, though her voice trembled. “Better to end our arrangement now, before deeper attachments form. We shall honour our agreement as originally intended—one year, followed by an amicable separation.”
