Page 77 of Mr. Darcy and the Mysterious "Miss B"
“I created an opportunity,” Mrs Bennet interrupted. “And if you are honest with yourself, you will admit that you are happier now than you have ever been. Or were, until whatever has happened today.”
She pressed her lips together and wrapped her arms around herself. “I may have destroyed everything, Mama. I doubted him when I should have trusted him. I believed lies about his character.”
“Then you must go to him and make it right,” Mrs Bennet said firmly. “Tell him you know the truth now, whatever it is. Aman in love can forgive many things, but he needs to hear the words.”
Elizabeth looked down at the drafts in her hands, feeling the weight of all the deception that had brought her and Darcy together. “But our entire courtship was built on your lies. How can anything real come from such false beginnings?”
“Because what has grown between you is real, regardless of how it started,” Mrs Bennet said. “I may have provided the circumstances, but I could not have created the feelings. Those are yours and his alone.”
Elizabeth rose from the chair, the papers still clutched in her hands. “I cannot believe you did this. All of it—the scandal, the engagement, everything we have been through—it all began with your scheming.”
“And it will end with your happiness, if you do not let pride stand in your way as it nearly did before,” Mrs Bennet replied. “Now go to him, Lizzy. Go to him before it is too late.”
Elizabeth left her mother’s chamber in a daze, the abandoned letter on her own desk forgotten. She had come seeking a quill to write an apology, but instead had discovered that everything she thought she knew about her relationship with Darcy was built on her mother’s manipulation.
Yet as she sat on her bed, holding the evidence of Mrs Bennet’s deception, she found that her feelings for Darcy remained unchanged. False beginning or not, what had grown between them was real. The question now was whether he could forgive not only her lack of faith, but the knowledge that their entire courtship had been orchestrated by a mother’s meddling.
Tomorrow, she would have to face him with the truth—about Wickham’s lies, about her own doubts, and about the scheming that had brought them together in the first place. She could only hope that love was strong enough to overcome such an extraordinary foundation of deception.
Chapter 28
Darcy
The mahogany walls of White’s closed in around Darcy as he sat across from Bingley, his untouched beef growing cold upon the plate. The familiar hum of gentlemen’s conversation and the clink of crystal glasses sounded distant, muffled by the weight of his own misery.
“I tell you, Darcy, I cannot decide between Netherfield and that estate in Gloucestershire,” Bingley continued, cutting into his mutton with obvious enthusiasm. “Netherfield is near to Longbourn which is convenient, but Jane mentioned she has always fancied the countryside near Bath. Perhaps we might lease it for the first year of our marriage, see how we find it. Though I confess, the lease on Netherfield runs through Michaelmas, and I should hate to waste the funds…”
Darcy pushed a piece of potato around his plate, his mind elsewhere entirely. Twenty-four hours had passed since his quarrel with Elizabeth in the Gardiners’ garden. He had replayed every word, every look of disappointment in her eyes when she had chosen to believe Wickham’s lies over everything she knew of his character.
“Darcy?” Bingley’s voice carried concern now. “You have not heard a word I have said, have you?”
“Forgive me.” Darcy set down his fork. “My attention has been… elsewhere.”
“So I observe.” Bingley leaned forward, his usual cheerful demeanour replaced by genuine worry. “My friend, you look positively haggard. What has happened? And pray do not tell me it is nothing—I have known you too long to accept such nonsense.”
“Elizabeth and I have… that is, there has been a disagreement.”
“What manner of disagreement could possibly account for such misery?”
Darcy rubbed his temples. “James Morton made good on his threat at Vauxhall. He somehow discovered George Wickham and brought him to Elizabeth with a collection of lies designed to poison her mind against me.”
Bingley’s fork clattered against his plate. “Wickham? Good God, what did that scoundrel tell her?”
“The usual fabrications. That I denied him a living promised by my father, that I dismissed faithful tenants without cause.” Darcy’s jaw tightened. “He even provided forged letters as evidence of my supposed cruelty.”
“Surely Elizabeth did not believe such nonsense?”
“She did not immediately dismiss it.” The admission tasted bitter. “She came to me with questions, doubts. When I learned that James Morton had orchestrated the entire encounter, I… I lost my temper.”
Bingley stared at him in amazement. “She doubted your character based on accusations from James Morton? The same man who tried to force her sister into an unwanted marriage?”
“Wickham also claimed that you were present when I supposedly refused him aid a second time. That you supported my decision to cast him out.” Darcy met his friend’s eyes.
“What?” Bingley’s voice rose, drawing glances from nearby tables. “I was never present for any such encounter! I barely know the man beyond your warnings about his character!”
“I know that. You know that. But Elizabeth…”
“Elizabeth should have known it too!” Bingley’s indignation was fierce. “How could she doubt either of us so readily? Surely, she must have realised Wickham was cut from the same cloth as Morton—willing to say anything to cause harm?”
