Elizabeth rolled back and forth in bed. Memories of Darcy's kiss and thoughts of his debt haunted her fitful dreams. She barely fell asleep after more than an hour, and it seemed as if no time had passed when the maid knocked on her door and woke Elizabeth.
She dressed and met Jane in the hallway. Jane was still wan and slow from her illness, but she appeared far more alert than Elizabeth felt. Elizabeth stumbled bleary eyed down the stairs to the breakfast room. The halls, windows, and rooms seemed changed. As though everything had been removed and replaced with almost identical furniture the night before.
Life was separated into before last night and after. The latticework in the windows was painted white. She had never noticed. The intricate details of the carving in the marble mantelpiece were delicate and beautiful. The food had a rich buttery aroma.
Bingley entered the room a few minutes after them. His clothes were trim and fit tightly about his arms and torso. He was not only a handsome object but also a moving man whose arms could hold and be held. What would Jane feel if she kissed Bingley?
Where was Darcy? He should at least see her off. He was always up early. Where was he?
Bingley grinned and sat with an open posture next to Jane, and he engaged her in conversation. Jane ate with an appetite and did not notice how deeply unsettled Elizabeth was. Bingley's voice was pleading and friendly as he said, "Miss Bennet, you do still look a little unwell — though you are as beautiful as ever — would it not be better if you stayed a few days longer to be sure you are recovered? Please do say you shall stay at least until Tuesday."
Jane smiled at Bingley but resolutely shook her head. "Much as I dearly wish to enjoy your hospitality, I feel too well for such a pretense."
"Yes, but sometimes people become sicker again — only a little sicker, in your case, of course. Enough that it would be best if we sat together and talked all afternoon again, but not so much that you actually feel poorly."
Miss Bingley chirpily engaged Elizabeth in conversation. Her voice and smile became brighter as Elizabeth played with her food and refused to reply.
Elizabeth loathed her: the orange fabric of her dress, the pretty line of her nose, the pitch of her voice. Everything about Caroline Bingley was disgusting.
Where was Darcy?
Damn him. He kissed her, and now he hid from her.
Elizabeth viciously cut at a roll, leaving shredded breadcrumbs on the plate. She slathered the warm bread with butter and forced a large bite down her throat. The food did not settle the unpleasant pulsing in her stomach.
"Lizzy? Are you well?"
Jane's large blue eyes peered at her with concern. Elizabeth replied with her sweetest, most Jane-like smile, "I am entirely well. Only I am so very eager to see our home again."
Jane winced and frowned. "Truly, are you well?"
Not allowing the fake smile to waver, Elizabeth said, "I am very well. Can you not see that I am happy?"
Miss Bingley said with her brightest voice, "You do look very well, Miss Elizabeth. I've never seen you looking so well."
Her eyes appeared vicious and rat like. She was an eager clawing creature. Mr. Darcy would not, could not. Even if he must marry money, he should find any other woman. Not her.
The blasted rake had kissed her and planned to hide in his room till she left. Maybe he deserved to marry Miss Bingley.
He had been so unhappy. His eyes had been helpless when he talked about his debts and Miss Bingley. His angular jaw framed by the flickering firelight. His lips pressed against hers. Her drawing her hand through his hair briefly. The silky feel.
Jane asked Mr. Bingley, "Where is Mr. Darcy? He is usually up long before breakfast. I hope he is well."
Elizabeth focused on Bingley's response.
"I told his man not to wake him. We were up late together and he" — Bingley blushed and waved his hand side to side — "he is unhappy about his sister. It… it can do a man well to drink with a friend — on occasion. He stayed awake later than I, and when I dozed off, he forced me to my chambers."
Elizabeth blushed, imagining walking into the library with both of them there while in her nightgown and robe.
Bingley finished, "He will be most distressed that he has missed your parting. Perhaps, Miss Bennet, if you were to stay a few hours further, you could take leave from him properly."
Elizabeth frowned at herself. She had been foolish to assume Darcy was not at breakfast because he wished to avoid her. He was no coward.
Jane looked at her, with a question in her glance. Elizabeth felt anxious. She shook her head to indicate they would leave as planned. She would not throw herself into Darcy's way. If he wished to speak to her, he could seek her out himself. She would not act like a lovesick girl.
Elizabeth spent the next half-hour alternatively hoping for a sight of Darcy and dreading one. There was none. As soon as the carriage had turned round the corner, and they no longer saw Netherfield, Jane said, "Lizzy, what is the matter? What happened between you and Mr. Darcy?"
"Nothing is the matter."
"Elizabeth. We both know that is not true."
He liked her enough to kiss her, enough to make her fall in love with him, but he still rejected her.
Would he marry Miss Bingley?
He owed ninety thousand. How would he ever pay such a vast sum? Even marrying Miss Bingley would leave him with a vast encumbrance.
Oh, nothing was right, and she wanted to cry. She couldn't tell Jane about the kiss. Not when she wanted it to happen again and again and again. Not when it was so intimate.
"Please, tell me what is the matter. Did he do something to you? I can see you deeply like Mr. Darcy. Did Miss Bingley say something to you when you left the room last night? She is my friend, but you are rivals, that is clear."
"Jane, I don't want to talk about it. I don't. I don't. I don't. No matter how many times you ask me, I am fine. When we return home, I beg you, do not let Mama see I am unhappy."
MDVMDVMDV
Darcy woke and looked out his window. The sun was far up in the sky. He felt sick and clutched his head.
Elizabeth must be gone. The Bennet sisters had planned to leave early in the morning. She would think he had avoided her on purpose. Why had Judson not awoken him?
Darcy rang for his valet to come. The instant the man entered the room Darcy shouted, "Why was I not woken? Well? You know I expect to be waken promptly at seven if I've not roused myself."
The valet was only a year or two older than Darcy himself, but despite being young he managed a mien of stiff dignity as well as his master did. "Mr. Bingley, sir. He caught me before I entered your room, and requested I let you sleep as you had been up late together the night before."
"I am your employer. Not Bingley."
"Yes, sir." Judson gave Darcy a certain look which combined proper deference with judgment.
Darcy sighed. Of course Judson would leave him to sleep if he thought it was best and had not received explicit instructions to wake him. His valet had been the only servant Darcy kept at Cambridge. They had been together for many years, and Judson was devoted to his interests.
"Are the Miss Bennets gone?"
"They left immediately after breakfast, sir."
Darcy grimaced. He had made a mess of things. It was obvious, now that Elizabeth had pointed it out to him, that Miss Bingley was not the only wealthy girl in England he might convince to marry him. It was his duty to marry an heiress but not her.
His uncle would help him find a suitable girl.
Elizabeth. She had saved him from a terrible mistake. He loved her; he wanted to marry her.
He must leave the neighborhood.
It would hurt, like ripping a barbed arrow out of flesh. He didn't want to see Elizabeth again and face the scorn or affection that would be in her eyes. He had to leave, and it would be easiest now.
Why had he kissed her?
Darcy felt her soft lips again. Her body pressed against his. The skin of her cheeks. Just the memory brought euphoria.
He had never before lost control of himself the way he did the previous night. He must apologize to Elizabeth. It would be wrong to leave the neighborhood without saying something to her. He also needed to have an uncomfortable conversation with Bingley about his sister.
He had gone horribly wrong somewhere.
When had he become this person? He decided to marry the sister of his best friend, only to abandon her at the last hour before making an offer. He kissed the most perfect woman in the world, toying with her feelings, when he could make no honorable offer to her. He might destroy his closest friendship.
A point pulsated in the front of his head as Darcy stumbled down the stairs.
He would never drink again.
A covered container of eggs and bacon had been kept warm on the stove for him. Darcy piled food onto a plate and set about quickly eating. His stomach settled with the food, and the headache receded.
He disgusted himself.
Bingley entered the room, noted Darcy's expression, and chirpily asked, "Headache?"
Darcy frowned. He forked the last of the eggs into his mouth and quickly chewed and swallowed them. "Bingley do you have your fencing equipment? I left mine in Pemberley as I had not expected to stay long in London."
Bingley grinned. "Exercise to recover from a night of dissipation. Capital idea. I shall not go soft on you."
For the first rounds, Darcy was sluggish. Soon he beat his friend handily. The equipment was not expensive, and it was fine exercise. Darcy's steward was also skilled in the sport, and this allowed Darcy to keep in practice.
Strike. Blow.
The rapid movement and need to focus cleared Darcy's headache. He felt a deep shame over his behavior towards Elizabeth.
A seductive whisper breathed through his mind: You should marry Elizabeth. You'll never find another so perfect, so beautiful, so wise.
He could not; he would not. He was not his father.
He had hurt Elizabeth with his abominable behavior. It would be honorable to make her an offer of marriage.
He had rather be a disgrace than make a decision contrary to his character.
Darcy struck Bingley hard.
"A point. You win the round." Bingley laughed. "That bruised."
"You ought to have defended yourself better."
Bingley grinned. "You are in quite a temper this morning. Has the fencing helped your headache? Is your stomach settled? Let me strike you. I'm sure I can unsettle it again."
Darcy laughed and laid the sword aside on a chair. "I am better; the exercise was beneficial."
"Excellent. Pray tell, what bothers you."
Darcy frowned and shook his head. Bingley waved his fencing piece in Darcy's face. "I shall not let you leave the room until you tell me. You've thrown down your sword; I have mine."
Darcy sighed and settled into a wicker chair against the wall. "I need to leave."
Bingley's face fell. "Must you? So soon — and…" Bingley looked away and shrugged. "I thought you wished to keep company with one of the local ladies."
"What!"
Bingley rolled his eyes. "You cannot imagine I have been so lost in the charms of my own Miss Bennet that I missed your longing stares and clever arguments with Miss Elizabeth."
Darcy tilted his head up and closed his eyes. He rubbed his palm over his forehead. "Has everyone seen this?"
"Blast it, Darcy — don't walk away. You like that girl; I daresay, she likes you. Your minds work similarly — she would be the making of your happiness. You are too morose, and with… without Georgiana, you need regular company. For once you should take my advice: marry her."
Darcy did not say anything
"Please, don't let me see you make such a mistake. You won't find another woman who fits you so well. Not with your habits."
"Damn you. I know I would be very happy with Elizabeth. Don't make me feel it more." Darcy's chest was empty and hollow. "It would be contrary to every good sense. Nothing but the rankest selfishness would lead me to marry a penniless girl while my debts are so large. I will not act so. There is some girl with twenty or thirty thousand pounds who I can like quite as much as I do Miss Elizabeth."
Bingley put his own sword down and sat next to Darcy. They were both silent. At last Bingley said, "So, that is how it is to be."
"I am afraid so."
"I never thought you'd be a damned fool."
Darcy shrugged. Bingley was in a happier position. Would he marry Elizabeth's sister? Even though she was penniless, hopefully Miss Bennet and Bingley would make a match of it and be happy. Darcy sighed. What was Bingley going to say when he explained about Miss Bingley?
Bingley suddenly grinned. "I demand you stay at least another week. I planned my ball with the expectation you would be there. It would not be the same without having a tall man to stand about the edges of the room. Since your only reason to leave so quick is a desperate need to prove yourself a fool, I expect you to be here."
Darcy looked sideways at his friend. "You hope another opportunity to dance with Miss Elizabeth might change my mind?"
Bingley shrugged and his eyes twinkled. "It would not bother me. However, I suppose it unlikely. No matter — I want your company for as long as possible."
He should not stay. He had kissed Elizabeth. If he did not plan to marry her, he should not taunt her with his presence. He should not tempt himself. Darcy opened his mouth to say he would leave the day after tomorrow. There was a leaden weight in his stomach at the thought of so quickly leaving Elizabeth's presence.
Darcy said, "I would miss your company as well. Another two weeks can do no harm. But I shall leave after the ball."
Bingley brightened. "Excellent — it shall be a fine, fine ball."
"Bingley, your sister… Miss Bingley."
Bingley gave Darcy his full attention.
Darcy felt exquisitely uncomfortable. He had never behaved wrongly like this before. Nausea rose again as he hesitatingly said, "I may have given Miss Bingley some reason to expect an offer from me. However, I… I overheard a conversation between her and Miss Elizabeth. Your sister showed an appalling lack of character — I cannot marry her. It is dishonorable to back away after I gave her so much reason to expect an offer, but I must."
Bingley made a startled exclamation. "Don't be absurd. You and Caroline. No. No one could think it."
Darcy looked at him.
"Good God." Bingley's eyes popped in horror. "You planned to do it. You actually — good God. I can scarce believe it."
Bingley stared agog, and then he slumped and buried his face in his hands. Even if it would destroy his dearest friendship, Darcy could not marry Miss Bingley. It was some time before Bingley spoke, and his words surprised Darcy, "I've failed you as a friend."
"How can you say that? You have always been the best of friends."
"I hardly paid attention to you on this visit. That is clear. I had not realized you had been affected so deeply by Georgiana and by the loss of money. And I'd not realized you were so threatened by my sister's machinations. If I had, I would — oh, I don't know — gotten drunk with you more often."
Awkwardly Darcy touched his friend's shoulder. "Bingley?"
"I knew you and Caroline had become more friendly, but I had no idea — none — that she had convinced you to tie yourself to her. At least you gave up the damn thought — is that what was on your mind when you chose to drink yourself into a stupor last night?"
Darcy nodded.
"I never expected good sense to come from strong drink. You would've been an idiot had you made the attempt. Were you to ask me for a blessing, I would not give it. You worry that you acted dishonorably — set your head at ease. Her family would give an absolute refusal. You need someone who has real affection for you, not my damned sister who would only count the years until she can convince you to spend more freely. She is too much like my father was."
Darcy looked Bingley in the eye and said, "I had feared my mistreatment of your sister might damage our friendship."
"Never. You have always been my true brother."