Page 12 of Pemberley's Imposter
“Is my sister not with you this evening, Mr Darcy?” Mrs Bingley asked with confusion written on her face.
Darcy had to school his countenance so as not to frown in puzzlement at her question. “No. I believe you know as well as I that she is at Longbourn,” he replied stiffly.
“Oh, we must have just missed her, then. What a stroke of misfortune because I am greatly anticipating seeing her after such a long separation. We have not been together since Twelfth Night.”
Darcy forced his risible muscles to contract into something akin to a smile. He took his leave with a quick bow and escorted his sister to their waiting carriage.
“Why would Mrs Bingley say, ‘we just missed her’?” Georgiana mused aloud.
“I do not know. Mrs Darcy can come and go as she pleases, wherever she is.”
Darcy thought that would be the end of it, but he should have known his sister better.
“Why do you suppose Mrs Bingley has not seen her sister for months? It seemed as if she believed Elizabeth was with us.”
“Perhaps she leaves Longbourn on occasion to give the appearance she is still attached to the Darcy family. I do not have her watched. She is free to do whatever she wishes.”
Why would he feel this pain in his chest so severely at the possibility of her travelling the country to visit her friends and family? An image of Elizabeth taunting him, laughing at him, came unbidden before his inner eye.I shall conquer this. I must for my own sanity. If only Georgiana would cut short her Season…
Two days later, the knocker was hammering against his door. For a minute he feared it might be Colonel Fitzwilliam. None other than he dared knock with such force.
His surprise was immense when it was Bingley who was shown into his study, banging his fist onto the desk and hovering over him with daggers shooting from his eyes.
“Where the hell is Elizabeth?” he bellowed, right in Darcy’s face.
Darcy sat back. Not because he was intimidated but because Bingley had spat on him. It was not done on purpose, but that did not make the experience any more pleasant.
“I do not know.”
“You do not know where your own wife is?” Bingley did nothing to hide his incredulous expression.
“I do not have a wife,” he replied calmly, whilst wondering what tales Mrs Darcy had told her family.
“Is Elizabeth dead?”
Darcy shook his head. “Not that I know of, but you are probably better informed than I.”
Bingley sat in sheer bafflement, although Darcy had not offered him a seat.
“Please explain clearly how you could not know of your wife’s whereabouts.”
“Simply because she is no longer my wife. As you probably are aware, she left Pemberley in December on my orders. I have not seen or heard from her since, which is also on my orders.”
“What could she have possibly done to displease you so?”
Darcy let out a bitter laugh. Obviously Mrs Darcy had not informed her relations about anything at all!
“You would not like to know.”
“Believe me, I would!” Bingley retorted angrily.
Darcy studied his friend intently. He had matured since his wedding and grown into his own man, judging by the way he was standing up to him. He had to admire his staunch protectiveness, despite its misplaced nature.
“I caught herin flagrante delictowith Colonel Fitzwilliam in my library.”
“I cannot believe it!” Bingley cried.
In his friend’s defence, neither had Darcy at first glance. The entire event had taken on a dreamlike haze in his mind, which he interpreted as him being well on his way to forgetting all about it. But facts did not lie.
