In the middle of June, they returned to Pemberley. As he looked back, he could see Lord and Lady Westhampton, waving happily at them, Georgiana wearing Lady Anne's sapphires, which Darcy had had re-set for her. Stephen stood a little apart, gazing forlornly. After a moment, Westhampton hesitantly moved towards his son, placing on a hand on his son's shoulder. Stephen jerked in surprise, but accepted the touch, and Darcy was somewhat comforted, despite the feelings that overwhelmed him as he left his nephew behind.
There were three letters waiting for him there, all from Bingley. Darcy kissed Anne good-night and went to his study to open them. The first was simply idle chatter. The second was much the same, but interspersed within the nonsense were some requests for advice, ranging from the trivial to the interesting. After reading the third, he turned three different shades of grey and reached out to grip the table, the room spinning before he fumbled to a chair and sat down.
Bingley being Bingley, he was quite rationally afraid that the information he sought would not even be included in the incoherent missive. But it was -- Jane is very worried about Lizzy -- she was in the house the longest -- they are in London with the Gardiners -- should be here on the third of July -- doctor says that town is detrimental to their health -- please, I am completely at sea --
Darcy, who for longer than he cared to think about had feltstretched and thin and simply too tired to bother with very much, felt something uncoil inside him. His thoughts raced, and he paced rapidly across the rug as he struggled to make sense of him. He looked at the clock -- ten o'clock. It was too late, Anne -- yes, they would leave in the morning. He stayed awake all through the night, taking care of all business he could manage.
"Mr Darcy?" said Mrs Reynolds, squinting at him.
"Good morning," he said, in a tone that brooked no opposition. She blinked at this, and cautiously replied,
"Good, er, morning, sir. You should not be up."
"I had some business that needed taking care of."
"But sir, couldn't you wait until dawn?" She stifled a mighty yawn.
"No, I have to leave in the morning."
"But Mr Darcy, you just -- "
"Yes, I know. Bingley needs my assistance however -- an urgent family matter -- Anne and I shall leave tomorrow."
Mrs Reynolds looked at her master's face, animated with -- not happiness, nothing remotely like it, but -- purpose -- certainly more than she had seen in years -- and sighed. "Yes, sir. Shall I tell Mr Higgins he is to manage the -- "
"No, please tell him to forward everything to me."
Anne was rather confused by the entire event, and after much questioning, Darcy relented. "You know that Mrs Bingley's papa died?"
"Yes," she said, rubbing her eyes.
"And his house belongs to Aunt Catherine's clergyman now?"
"Yes, papa. You said something about tails but that I can have Pemberley because you don't have one."
Darcy said, "Yes, dear. Well, a few weeks after Mr and Mrs Collins and their children came to stay at Longbourn -- Mrs Bingley's papa's house -- the house burnt down."
Anne sat up, fixing her light blue eyes on him. "Burnt down!" Then she bit her lip. "Is Mrs Bingley's family all right?"
Darcy stared out the window blankly. "Her mother is perfectly well, although somewhat . . . distressed. One of Mrs Bingley's sisters went back into her room, and breathed in a great deal of smoke before she was saved, and is coughing quite a lot, but they think she shall be well. But Mr and Mrs Bingley have so much to do now that he needs my help for business. His steward is not trustworthy."
"What's trustworthy, papa?"
"Someone you can trust," he said. "Like Mr Higgins."
"But you don't let Mr Higgins do things, papa, you do them all yourself," she said ingenuously. Darcy laughed shortly.
"I am not like Mr Bingley, Anne."
"No," she agreed, "you have brown hair, and his is yellow, like mamma's and grandpapa's."
---
He had not the slightest idea what he would find when he arrived at Baildon. His heart was pounding, and several times the world, as he perceived it, seemed to shift slightly to the left or right, then jerk back into place. Anne was unnerved enough at the prospect of strangers that she clung to his hand tightly, not realising that she was anchoring him as much as he was her.
"Papa, shall I have to talk?"
"No, not if you do not like," he said softly, only a very small part of his mind on the conversation. The instant he set foot inside the door, Bingley was there at his side, looking pleased beyond measure to see him.
"Darcy," he said, in a sort of half-gasp, "you're here."
Darcy bit his lip. It was no time for smiling. "Yes, I am. What would you like me to do?"
Bingley scrubbed one hand across his brow, and Darcy noted, a little sadly, that there were a few strands of white in Bingley's fair hair.
"Oh! Mr Darcy!" Mrs Bingley exclaimed, a smile lighting up her face. She was very much the same as ever, except for the tired expression about her eyes. "We are so glad to see you, sir. And Anne."
Anne smiled widely at Mrs Bingley. "Hello, Mrs Bingley!" she said brightly. "I hope your mamma and sisters and cousins and aunt and uncle and -- "
"Anne," said Darcy sternly.
"-- everyone else are well."
Mrs Bingley seemed caught between a tired sigh and melancholy smile. "Thank you, Anne. The Gardiners are here, they came last night."
Thank heavens, thought Darcy.
"Oh, good. Is Sarah here, Mrs Bingley? May I go play, papa, please?"
"If you like. I will be with Mr Bingley, in his study, if you need me."
An anxious servant darted into the hallway. "Mr Bingley, Lady Elliot says -- "
No, please --
"I will mind Caroline, dear," Mrs Bingley said, but her husband shook his head.
"No, Jane, you know that she will not -- that is -- " he glanced at Darcy, and shook his head. "I had better go."
"Then I will take Mr Darcy to the library, I know where the papers you've been talking about are, and he can look them over." Bingley nodded distractedly and left. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Mr Darcy -- you haven't sat down or rested or anything." She pressed one hand against her forehead. "We are all at such odds and ends. Which would you like first?"
He hazarded a guess at her meaning and said, "If I could look over the matter of Smith's mill, I think we could have it resolved very quickly."
---
The study was not unoccupied. Rifling through Bingley's papers was his mother-in-law, and at the sight of a letter, still folded although charred about the edges and straight through in some places, his heart clenched. His had been burnt -- it surely had been burnt -- what earthly reason would she have to keep it? -- it was someone else's, a proper lover's -- what was it doing here, anyway? But just as the prying Mrs Bennet reached out for it, Darcy acted without reflection, without even conscious thought.
"This is your sister's, I believe," he said to Mrs Bingley. "It should probably be returned to her."
"Well, really!" expostulated Mrs Bennet.
"Mamma," said Mrs Bingley softly, then turned to him. "I will take it to Lizzy." Darcy handed it to her, certain that she could feel his hand trembling against hers. She gave him a thoughtful look, then her eyes widened and she flushed. "Perhaps you should come with me, sir," she said. "Lizzy is just in the library."
"But I -- " he looked down at the letter. She kept it. She had walked into a smoke-filled room to retrieve it -- he knew, although no one had said so, that this was what she had returned for. In that moment, everything he had known, and believed, seemed to shift a little. He had seen, and yet he had not -- now we see through a glass, darkly --
Clearly visible from where he stood was her name, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, written in his own close hand. Darcy straightened a little and lifted his chin.
"Thank you, Mrs Bingley," he said graciously, sparing only a slight dismissive glance for the furious Mrs Bennet. Looking through Bingley's things -- and Elizabeth's letter! "I should like to see her again."
He could hear Mrs Bennet's shrill voice as he whirled out of the room, no doubting blathering about what a hateful man he was, and how she had always disliked him. I never thought I would be grateful for Lady Catherine, he thought wryly. She looks positively sensible next to that woman.