Good morning to you all (well, it's morning here)! I've just finished writing chapter 14 of this story, so here's another chapter for you to enjoy. This one has something of a twist in it I don't think you will be expecting. :) Cross your fingers for me that the creative juices keep flowing - I've actually written two chapters in the last 3 days, and that is a very good thing!

As always, my never-ending gratitude to everyone following, favoriting, and commenting on this story. You are the best followers a writer could ask for.

Chapter Seven

The invitation to dine at Gracechurch Street Darcy had declined only because he had obligations to fulfil.

The insistence that he and Fitzwilliam dine at Bolton Street, issued by the countess, could not be refused. He resigned himself to seeing Bingley later in the evening and spent the entirety of the meal answering Lady Disley's inquiries about Elizabeth and her family. Being repeatedly pestered with questions made him wonder if she had felt the same in Kent, when Lady Catherine had plagued her nearly every meal with impertinent enquiries.

By mutual agreement with his uncle, Darcy said nothing to indicate there was a need to marry quickly, only that he had no desire wait.

Like her husband, Lady Disley expressed her wish for Elizabeth to have more fortune and better connections—had expected him, she confessed, to marry a girl from one of the many "good families" in their circle. But also like the earl, she acknowledged that his choice of bride was his own, regardless of her origin, fortune, or family.

"I am pleased she is at least a gentleman's daughter," said Lady Disley at one point. "She is equal to you in that respect. And I must own that our Gardiner carriage is the most comfortable of any we've had!"

After the meal, Darcy and Fitzwilliam shared a glass of port with Lord Disley and Lord Rowarth, then took their leave. Georgiana, who had said little through dinner, approached him as he and Fitzwilliam awaited his carriage in the hall.

"Tell me, dearest… are you happy for me?" he asked her.

Georgiana smiled and nodded. "Oh yes. You know how much I have wished to see you happy."

Darcy returned her smile. "I also know how much you have wished for a sister."

Her expression fell and she looked down at her feet. "Yes. Perhaps if I'd had a sister to advise me, I wouldn't have been so foolish."

Raising a hand to her chin, Darcy tilted it up until her gaze met his again. "None of that, now. What have I said to you about self-recrimination, Georgiana?"

His sister sighed. "We each of us make mistakes, and what is important is that we learn from them rather than repeat them."

Darcy smiled again. "There you go. Now, I shall need you home tomorrow, as Miss Elizabeth and her sister, along with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, will be dining with us. Theo will be there, of course, and perhaps Mr. Bingley as well."

If he forgives me, he added silently.

"All right. I… I look forward to meeting your Miss Elizabeth."

Smiling again, Darcy leaned forward and pressed his lips to Georgiana's brow. "And I look forward to introducing you. I do believe you will like her, dearest."

Once in the carriage and on the way to Grosvenor Street, Darcy became contemplative, rehearsing in his mind what he would say to Bingley. There was no way this was going to go well—the more he thought about what to say and how it might be said, the more he recalled how Jane Bennet had appeared, and his guilt intensified.

"Stop that."

Blinking, he looked across the carriage to his cousin. "Stop what?"

Fitzwilliam scoffed. "Berating yourself. You made a mistake, Will—it happens to the best of us. Remind yourself as you reminded your sister just now what you said about self-recrimination."

"I honestly believed I was doing the right thing by him," Darcy said. "I believed he would only regret attaching himself to such a family."

"Perhaps. But given what you told me about fighting your feelings for Miss Elizabeth, I begin to wonder if you convinced Bingley to give up her sister for his sake or your own," Fitzwilliam observed.

Darcy snorted softly. "Both. If he didn't go back to Hertfordshire, I would have no reason to."

"And so neither of you would be tempted."

Inclining his head in reply, Darcy sighed. "Her mother and younger sisters truly are incredibly ill-mannered—I could scarce believe how vulgar they are."

His cousin scoffed again. "And our dear aunt in Kent is any better? Come now, Will, you must own that she is nigh intolerable and the only reason any of us do so is because she's family—and because we each of us only have to put up with her nonsense once or twice a year."

Fitzwilliam leaned forward. "If your dear Elizabeth's family are such that you cannot imagine yourself spending more than a few weeks in their presence, then treat them as you do Lady Catherine and remind yourself how far away they are from Pemberley."

Darcy could not help smiling at the thought, even though he had come to truly dislike how unkind his thoughts of Elizabeth's family were. When he said as much to Fitzwilliam, his cousin countered with, "Is there no hope of remedy for them?"

With a shrug, Darcy replied, "I honestly do not know. What disturbs me even more than the ladies' behaviour is how little Mr. Bennet seems to care—I just do not understand how any man can be so indifferent as to the respectability of his family. How can he possibly not see that his wife and daughters are constantly subject to the ridicule of their neighbours? How can he be so blind to the damage their unchecked manners cause the whole family?"

Fitzwilliam gave a shrug of his own. "I couldn't say, not having had an opportunity to observe the man myself. But from what you have said, and what Miss Elizabeth has said of her family, I gather that he, too, is paying for his mistakes. He must have pursued his wife more for her beauty than her sense, or perhaps he was not made aware of how little she had of the latter until after they married, and it was too late to extract himself. Like most men, I imagine, he expected to have a son that he could pass off his responsibilities to—only it didn't happen. Something tells me Mr. Bennet is aware of his own poor judgment but, being unable to alter his circumstances for the better, instead of taking action to remedy the situation he chooses to ignore the problems he has himself created."

Darcy snorted derisively. "And entertains himself by making light of their ridiculousness and disguising insults as wit. He does not see how much his indifference harms those he holds most dear."

"Have you considered offering him an incentive?" asked Fitzwilliam.

Curiosity lifted Darcy's brow. "You mean a bribe?"

His cousin laughed. "No, an incentive. At his age he's unlikely to change completely, but I daresay it is possible to motivate him to at least take on a more active role in managing his daughters and his wife."

Darcy crossed his arms. "And how do you propose I do that?" he queried.

"You have the means to offer small dowries for the remaining daughters," the colonel said. "Say, four or five thousand each for the three younger girls. Put it into your marriage articles that certain conditions must be met in order for them to receive the money. Maybe send the youngest one to a finishing school and hire a few tutors for the other two—or a governess if all three stay at home. Offer to pay for that as well, but again, only so long as they apply themselves."

The ideas his cousin presented were appealing, Darcy mused. "And what of the mother?"

Fitzwilliam rubbed his chin in thought. "Maybe… You know, I've just had the thought that once you're married, there will be little need for a paid companion for Georgiana. Mrs. Annesley has done wonders with her these last eight or nine months—could she not do for the Bennets as well? She's qualified to be a governess, and she's so genteel that she might just be able to teach Mrs. Bennet a thing or two."

"Now that suggestion has merit, cousin," Darcy said with half a smile. "I don't want to insult Elizabeth or her family any further than I have already done, but neither do I wish for them to continue as a constant source of mortification for either of us. I will discuss it with her tomorrow evening—Mrs. Annesley will be at the house and the two can get to know one another a little."

Fitzwilliam nodded his agreement, and the rest of the ride was spent in silence. Darcy wondered if the inevitable row he was sure to engage in with Bingley would prompt his friend to secure his own house in town, a purchase his sister Caroline had claimed was long overdue. Darcy could not fault the younger man for preferring to secure himself an estate first and being content to spend the rest of his time at the homes of family or friends; right now, he and Miss Bingley were staying with his brother-in-law and sister, the Hursts, but from the time he'd left Netherfield to the time Darcy and Fitzwilliam had gone to Kent, Bingley had been staying at Darcy House.

When the carriage drew to a stop outside the Hursts' modest but respectable residence, Darcy drew a deep, fortifying breath before exiting the carriage. After issuing an order to the coachmen to remain where they were, for they did not expect to be long, Fitzwilliam was quick to follow him up the steps. The colonel gave Darcy's shoulder an encouraging squeeze after he had rapped the knocker.

The Hursts' butler, Stanley, opened the door and, on recognizing Darcy, stood back in invitation for them to enter. It was, perhaps, the only thing he truly liked about visiting the Hurst home, that he was known to the butler and housekeeper and would never be made to wait on the stoop while his card was presented to the master or mistress of the house.

He could hear the noise of a small party going on in the drawing room—and knowing Hurst, it was a card party. Looking to Stanley, Darcy said, "Is Mr. Bingley home at present? If so, tell him I wish to speak with him."

The butler nodded and bowed, then crossed the hall and slipped into the drawing room. Not two minutes later, he preceded Charles Bingley on his return…with Caroline Bingley in tow.

Of course, he thought, resisting the urge to frown—he'd asked to see Bingley, not Bingley and his sister.

"Darcy!" Bingley cried cheerfully as the two approached. "It's good to see you—when did you get back to town?"

"Just this afternoon," Darcy replied.

"Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam," simpered Miss Bingley with a coquettish smile. "What an unexpected but pleasant surprise! Do come and join the party, won't you?"

"No thank you, Miss Bingley," said Darcy. To her brother he said, "Bingley, is there somewhere we might speak in private? I've some news I learned in Kent that I must share with you."

Bingley was instantly curious, and his sister no less so. "Really? Something about an estate there, perhaps?"

Darcy shook his head. "No, nothing of that nature. Please, it really is a private matter."

Bingley nodded. "Of course. Caroline, do tell the others I shall return in a few moments."

"Mr. Darcy, do Louisa and I need to join you for this conversation?" said Miss Bingley, ignoring her brother's direction.

Darcy was not remiss to the implication in her tone. Affecting an air of nonchalance, he replied. "Not at all. It is a matter between gentlemen, Miss Bingley."

"This way, Darcy, Colonel…" said Bingley then, gesturing for them to follow him. They went, leaving a no doubt perplexed and possibly concerned Miss Bingley behind.

The three came to the Hursts' little-used library. Darcy had often wondered since meeting Reginald Hurst why he did not give it over to some other use, perhaps as a private parlor for himself or his wife. Certainly, neither of them spent much—if any—time in this room, as Mrs. Hurst didn't particularly care for reading and Hurst cared not at all. What was the point in having a private library in one's home if not to fill it with books that were read, and read regularly?

There was just light enough from the lowering sun for Bingley to make quick work of lighting several candles as Fitzwilliam closed the door behind them. When he had finished, Bingley turned a curious gaze to Darcy. "What can I do for you, Darcy? What is this 'private' business you wished to discuss?"

Darcy drew another fortifying breath. "You know I've been at my aunt's in Kent these last three weeks. You may also recall that the Hunsford vicar, Mr. Collins, is a relation of the Bennets."

Bingley's expression flickered. "I recall the gentleman, yes," he said, and it was not lost on Darcy that his voice had suddenly lost all its cheerfulness. "What of him?"

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet was visiting at Hunsford, as her friend Miss Lucas married Mr. Collins," Darcy went on. "We were much in each other's company and… Well, I've asked Miss Elizabeth to marry me."

The color drained from Bingley's face and his eyes widened. He swallowed, and then, "You… you asked her to marry you? You asked Miss Elizabeth to marry you?"

"Yes."

Bingley turned away from his visitors and began to pace. He ran a hand through his hair. "I… I don't understand you, Darcy. You told me five months ago that marrying into that family would be unwise—that you were certain I'd regret it though the connection would not be so much an evil to me as it would be to someone like yourself."

"I did, and truthfully, the connection is still not entirely desirable," said Darcy. "However, I… I fell in love with her, Bingley. I tried to deny my feelings, for the very same reasons I told you the alliance was unwise. But being in such close company with Miss Elizabeth, in so much more intimate a setting… I found I could no longer resist my heart's desire."

Bingley paused his pacing before the fireplace. He lifted his hands to his hips and drew a deep breath, then blew it out in a rush. "I suppose I should congratulate you. I assume she said yes?"

Darcy scoffed, recalling just what it was Elizabeth had said, and how angrily she said it. "Actually, she refused me," he confessed, causing Bingley to lift his head and look at him with amazement. "Miss Elizabeth had discovered that I was complicit in convincing you to give up her sister, for which she heartily resented me because… because I was wrong about her, Charles. I was wrong about Miss Bennet's degree of affection for you. Elizabeth assured me in no uncertain terms that her sister was and still is in love with you."

Bingley's eyes now widened, and his mouth dropped open; it closed and opened and closed again before he finally managed, "Jane loves me?"

Almost at a jog, he crossed the distance between them and grabbed Darcy by the arms, a wide smile and bright eyes changing his moroseness to utter joy. "You are sure of it? She loves me?"

"Elizabeth swears it is so. I believe her," Darcy said.

"Oh. Oh!" cried Bingley, running a hand through his hair again. "Then I must pack! I must away to Netherfield at once—I must call at Longbourn and beg her to forgive my foolishness!"

"You don't…" Darcy hesitated only a heartbeat. "You don't need to go to Longbourn. Miss Bennet is here in town, at her uncle's in Gracechurch Street. She has been there since…since after Christmas."

Bingley blanched and stepped back as though he'd been struck. "She… Jane is here? In London? She has been in London for… You said since after Christmas… That's almost four months! When did you learn this? Have you…"

He swallowed and hesitated as though not wanting to say the words but needing to know the answer. "Have you known this whole time?" Bingley asked.

Darcy could only nod at first, then said slowly, "I have, and your sisters also. Miss Bingley told me that Miss Bennet wrote to her after our removal from Netherfield, first to inform her she would be coming to town, and then after to inform her she was here; she later shared that Miss Bennet had also called on one occasion. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley asked me to help them keep you from learning of her being in Gracechurch Street. I agreed that was the wisest course, as I knew you still harbored feelings for her which you would surely act upon if you met, regardless of her being, as I believed, indifferent to you."

Bingley's devastation on hearing that his best friend and both his sisters had deceived and manipulated him was clear in the crestfallen expression that overcame his features.

"How could you?" said he, before he suddenly drew back and threw a punch at Darcy's jaw.

The force of the blow caused Darcy to stumble backward; Fitzwilliam caught him by the arm to keep him from falling.

"How could you?!" Bingley yelled as Darcy was pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at the blood now seeping from a split lip.

At the same moment, the library door burst open and Bingley's sisters came in.

Mrs. Hurst gasped, and Miss Bingley ran to Darcy's side. "My dear Mr. Darcy! Charles, what have you done?"

Darcy was shrugging her off as Bingley turned his furious gaze on her. "What have I done? What have I done?!"

He stalked over to her and stepped so close that she was forced to take a step back. "How about we discuss what you did. What Louisa did. What my good friend Darcy did. Let's discuss how first you all colluded to convince me that Jane Bennet was indifferent to me, and how it would be pointless to return to Hertfordshire and torment myself by pining for a woman who—and I quote—'clearly cares no more for you than she does any other common acquaintance'."

The sisters now turned astonished gazes to Darcy. "Darcy, darling, what have you done?" Miss Bingley whispered.

Darcy scowled. "Do not address me so informal, madam," he said tersely. "What I have done is no more than tell your brother the truth. I could not in good conscience marry one Bennet sister when I had so strongly argued against your brother marrying another."

Until that moment, when he had spoken them aloud, Darcy hadn't realized how very true the words were. Even had Elizabeth not asked him to make things right with Bingley—had she accepted him from the start—he knew he'd eventually have done it anyway. His character would not have allowed him to ignore his scruples against a match with such unsuitable connections to secure his own happiness, when with those same scruples he had convinced Bingley not to make a match in the same family.

"Marry one Bennet sister?" Mrs. Hurst echoed.

"Marry one…" began Miss Bingley. "Oh, Darcy, tell me it isn't so!"

Darcy's scowl deepened. "The proper address is Mr. Darcy, Miss Bingley," he said. "And it is so. Miss Elizabeth Bennet agreed to be my wife just this morning."

Bingley blinked. "I thought you said she refused you. You know what? It doesn't matter," he said, waving his hand dismissively before returning his attention to his sisters. "Let us also discuss, Miss Bingley, how a woman you had named as a friend wrote to you twice and you did not mention either letter to me—how you, in fact, lied to me when I asked if you had heard from her. How she called on you, in this very house, and I have just today heard of it. I might as well inquire as to why, if Miss Bennet was so very indifferent to me, the three of you put so much effort into ensuring I did not discover that she had been in town for nearly four months."

Darcy noted tears pooling in the eyes of both sisters. He could hardly believe they were genuine, though if they were it was likely due to being caught out than as a result of regretting their actions. They had too little regard for the feelings of others to be genuinely remorseful for having wronged their brother and Jane, and in coming to that conclusion, he could not but feel his own shame all the more.

Elizabeth had said very nearly the same of him.

"Charles, please, please understand," Miss Bingley pleaded. "We are noticed in society, yes, but if we are to have any real hope of rising higher, we must make the best connections we possibly can! The Bennets are good in themselves, I am sure, but they are too vulgar and unrefined for the first circles! Miss Bennet's uncles are an attorney and a tradesman!"

"Our father was a tradesman, Caroline!" Bingley snapped. "Oh, he had little to do with the business his grandfather had built by the time of his death, but he was still considered a tradesman. We come from trade—our fortunes come from trade, however much you like to pretend that isn't so! You and Louisa can ignore our origins as much as you like but it does not make the fact any less true. I am not ashamed of where we come from, because our father and grandfather and uncles worked hard at their trade to earn all that money that sits in the bank under the Bingley name."

"Charles, surely you know that you could have almost any young woman you want—you could marry Miss Darcy—"

"No, he couldn't," said Darcy and Fitzwilliam in unison, with the latter adding, "My cousin is far too young and inexperienced in the world to marry anyone."

"All due respect to Miss Darcy, but I don't even want her—I've only met her two or three times, and not once did I think of her in that way," said Bingley. "I do want Jane Bennet."

Angrily brushing past his sisters, Bingley stalked from the library. The two women followed, as did Darcy and Fitzwilliam.

"You!" Bingley yelled at a footman who was then crossing the hall. "Go out to the mews and tell the grooms to prepare my carriage."

"Y-yes, sir!" the footman replied with a nod before hurrying away.

"Charles, where are you going?" Miss Bingley asked.

"Away from here!" Bingley snapped. "I'll not stay a minute longer than necessary in a house where I have been so ill-used."

He stopped and whirled back to face them, his indignation still clearly etched into his features. "You manipulated me, and you concealed from me the presence of the woman I love. I'm leaving."

Bingley turned away again and continued toward the stairs.

"Charles, please! Let's talk about this!" Mrs. Hurst called after her brother.

"There's nothing to talk about, Louisa!"

"Bingley, where will you go?" Fitzwilliam asked in a quieter tone.

Bingley had started up the stairs; he paused. "I don't know. A hotel, I imagine."

"Charles," said Darcy; he walked past the weeping sisters to stand at the foot of the stairs. "I know that I have wronged you as much as your sisters have done. For that, I am truly, deeply sorry. I still consider you as a friend and hope one day very soon to call you my brother…if you can ever forgive me."