Page 64 of The Briar Bargain
Darcy absorbed this information with growing alarm. He recalled Hurst’s belief that Miss Bingley would learn from her failures and attempt to improve her methods, and he thought perhaps she meant to hide something truly disgraceful in Miss Elizabeth’s chambers rather than in her sewing basket.
The servants' loyalty was clearly divided, not through any fault of their own, but because they found themselves caught between the mistress of the house and a respected guest. It was an untenable situation.
"Harrison, I want you to speak privately with Mrs. Nicholls. Ensure that she understands Miss Elizabeth and her sister are to be considered friends of the Darcy family."
"Of course, sir." Harrison hesitated, then added, "If I may say so, sir, Mrs. Nicholls already holds Miss Elizabeth in the highest regard, as do all of the servants with whom I have spoken. I do not believe any of them would willingly participate in schemes against her."
This intelligence provided some relief, though not enough to ease Darcy's concerns entirely. “Even so.”
After Harrison departed, Darcy remained at the window. Miss Bingley's latest attempt had failed due to Mrs. Nicholls's intervention, but if she was desperate enough to involve Elizabeth's private chambers, she would not simply abandon her efforts. She would find another approach, perhaps one that did not require the cooperation of the servants.
The sound of laughter drifted up from the garden, and he saw the Bennet ladies had been joined by Bingley. His friend's animated gestures and beaming countenance, along with his marked attentions to Miss Bennet, left little doubt about his intentions.
The thought brought with it a pang of something uncomfortably like envy. Not for Bingley's attachment to Miss Bennet, for that was a happiness Darcy wished his friend most sincerely. No, it was for the simplicity ofBingley's situation. His feelings were returned, his social position secure, his family circumstances uncomplicated by considerations of fortune and connexion.
Darcy's own position was infinitely more complex. Even setting aside his family's expectations and the disparity in circumstances between himself and Miss Elizabeth, there was still his uncertainty about her feelings for him. She had accepted his friendship, even seemed to welcome his protection, but friendship was a far cry from the deeper attachment he hoped for. And now, with Miss Bingley's machinations threatening to create discord or even scandal, the delicate progress they had made seemed increasingly fragile.
A knock at his door interrupted these reflections. "Enter," he called.
The knock proved to be Harrison, returning with his usual quiet discretion.
"Mrs. Nicholls has been advised as you requested, sir," he said, bowing. "She expressed her appreciation for the clarity and assured me she would brook no tampering of any sort with the Miss Bennets’ chambers. I believe you may count upon her."
"Very good," Darcy said. "And the maid in question?"
"She has been quietly reassigned for the morning. Mrs. Nicholls thought it prudent."
Darcy inclined his head. Such swift action spoke well of the housekeeper's judgement. "I agree. What of Miss Bingley’s personal maid?”
Harrison frowned. “Mrs. Nicholls will not have any authority over her."
“But she has been living with the Hursts, so Mrs. Hurst might. I will speak with Hurst.”
Harrison said nothing but he appeared sceptical. “Mrs. Hurst?”
“She is very lately reconciled to her husband. We shall put that to the test.” He retrieved his hat and gloves and made his way down the grandstaircase with deliberate calm, even as his mind churned with possibilities. Whatever Miss Bingley planned next, he was determined she would not succeed. Too much depended upon maintaining the harmony of the current party, not least Elizabeth's peace of mind.
Outside, the day had grown into full brilliance, sunlight gleamed upon the wet gravel and shimmered through the thinning gold of the oaks. The breeze was sharp but invigorating, carrying with it the scent of woodsmoke and fallen leaves that spoke of autumn's inexorable progress towards winter. As he stepped into the garden, he caught sight of the walking party ahead.
Miss Bennet and Bingley were already paired off, their heads tilted together as they conversed. Even from a distance, Darcy saw the careful attention Bingley paid to his companion's comfort, adjusting his pace to match hers, offering his arm when the path grew uneven, gesturing to points of interest. Mrs. Hurst, for once without her usual languor, walked beside her husband, her smile uncertain but genuine as he pointed out a grove of trees that had turned a most vivid shade of crimson.
Miss Bingley, somewhat apart from the rest, hovered near the path with a lace shawl held dramatically about her shoulders, as though to suggest fragility. Her positioning was clearly calculated to draw attention, for she was close enough to the group to appear included, yet sufficiently isolated to invite rescue or sympathy. Darcy witnessed her performance with growing distaste, noting how her gaze moved constantly between the other members of the party, seeking some advantage or opportunity.
And then there was Miss Elizabeth. He walked up to join her.
They began to walk slowly, falling into step with the easy synchronicity that had become more common between them of late. Darcy found himself acutely aware of her presence beside him, the measured cadence of her breathing, the way she automatically lengthened her pace to matchhis longer stride even while he shortened his to match hers. This simple harmony, this evidence of their growing comfort with one another, was deeply satisfying.
"I could not help but notice," she said after a moment, "that your gaze lingered on the house as you emerged. I do not suppose you are contemplating the angle of the sun or the state of the shutters?"
Her perception continued to astonish him. That she had correctly judged his preoccupation from such a distance spoke to an awareness that was both flattering and slightly unnerving. "I was reflecting," he said carefully, "upon the state of affairs within."
She looked at him sidelong, her dark eyes bright with curiosity. "And what conclusions have you reached, if any?"
"That vigilance is, for the time being, our best course."
Her mouth quirked in what might have been amusement or approval. "I had thought it might be, Mr. Darcy."
Ahead, Bingley and Miss Bennet paused at the turn in the path. Miss Bennet paused at a cluster of Michaelmas daisies growing wild along the hedge, their purple petals brilliant in the cold sun. Bingley bent to gather a few for her.
