Chapter Four
Elizabeth descended the stairs, wondering, not for the first time, how Mr. Darcy and Lydia fared. It was almost impossible to imagine a conversation between them. Mr. Darcy could be severe and have a sharp tongue, but Lydia paid little heed to what others thought of her. That attitude would no doubt distress Mr. Darcy. On the other hand, he might tire of discussing red coats and ruffles.
Hearing no voices emanating from the drawing room, Elizabeth decided to investigate whether Mr. Darcy had departed. To her amazement, when she opened the door she found Mr. Darcy alone. He sat in the far corner with his head in his hands but rushed to his feet when she entered.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth. Lydia left for Meryton a few minutes ago." Of course she had. Only Lydia would depart the house and leave her guest alone. Perhaps she would have remained if Mr. Darcy wore regimentals.
When Elizabeth turned her scrutiny on Mr. Darcy, she discovered her anger from the previous evening had melted away. It was impossible to maintain in the face of his obvious distress. His hair was disheveled, and dark circles showed under his eyes. His face was impassive, yet there were signs of strain around his mouth.
He shifted uneasily on his feet. "You need not feel under an obligation to receive me…."
Why would I not—? Oh. Abruptly, Elizabeth recollected their encounter in Netherfield's library. She had been very vociferous, and he might easily believe she was still angry with him. At the time, the evidence of his guilt and reprehensible moral character seemed irrefutable. Now she was not so certain. At that moment Hill arrived with the tea service.
Mr. Darcy glanced from Hill to Elizabeth. "I-I should return to Netherfield," he stammered.
Elizabeth found herself in the odd position of wishing she might do something to alleviate Mr. Darcy's distress. Indeed, he might very well be an inadvertent victim of Lydia's thoughtlessness rather than a scoundrel who sought to take advantage of it. If so, he deserved Elizabeth's consideration, although she could do little to help him. "Please, stay for tea," she murmured.
Mr. Darcy hesitated but then seated himself once again. She poured out a cup, added the sugar she had noticed he preferred, and handed it to him. Then she poured one for herself and took an adjacent chair. Mr. Darcy hunched miserably in his chair as he sipped.
Elizabeth considered how she could demonstrate that she had reconsidered her opinion of him. However, it was a difficult subject to broach. How does one say, "I may have been mistaken in thinking you debauched my younger sister?"
For a long moment silence reigned. Finally, Elizabeth said, "I would like to hear your account of the events of last night."
Mr. Darcy's eyebrows rose. "You were present, Miss Elizabeth. Surely you do not need me to…" He shifted uneasily in his chair.
"You said there was another man with Lydia."
"And you said I must have been false." His tone was level, but his eyes narrowed slightly.
Elizabeth disliked admitting anything to such an unpleasant man, particularly that she might have been in error, but he deserved the truth. "Something Lydia said this morning suggested that someone else had escorted her to the library."
He leaned forward, nearly spilling his tea. "Did she give a name?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "She said nothing directly. I am only surmising based on what she did not say."
"But you believe me?" His gaze on her was very intent. Why should my opinion be of any importance to him?
Elizabeth felt like a disloyal sister, but she suspected Mr. Darcy had not been treated fairly. "I believe your story is possible…"
"Thank God!" He slumped back into the chair.
She shrugged, more than a little puzzled by his reaction. "It is not as if my convictions will materially affect your situation." Unless the other man was identified, Elizabeth could hardly condone any efforts to break the engagement, for that would leave Lydia disgraced and unwed.
"I am simply pleased you believe me." He gave her a weary smile.
Elizabeth stared down at the hands clasped in her lap. She owed Mr. Darcy a full account of her thoughts on the subject, but they did her no credit. "I apologize for being hasty in drawing conclusions. I was inclined to believe…that is, in conversation with Mr. Wickham—"
"Wickham?" Mr. Darcy's face darkened. "What did that scoundrel say about me?"
Elizabeth wished she were anywhere else. Why must she be the one to share such stories with Mr. Darcy?
Her fingers twisted together in her lap as the words emerged in a rush. "He-he said you had refused him the living your father had promised and thus left him penniless." She omitted Mr. Wickham's colorful characterization of Mr. Darcy's temperament.
Mr. Darcy exploded from his chair and started pacing the length of the room. "This is what everyone in Meryton believes of me? Small wonder they fancied me capable of seducing a girl of fifteen." Tightness around his mouth suggested that her news pained him. "My sister is barely past fifteen." He shook his head in disgust. Elizabeth's belief in his innocence increased.
Mr. Darcy came to rest near the window, staring out at the grounds of Longbourn without apparently seeing them. "Wickham came to me and expressed his disinterest in taking orders, so I compensated him for the living, and he departed from Pemberley."
"Oh!" Elizabeth's hand rose to her mouth. Why was I so quick to believe Mr. Wickham's version of the story?
"He may also have failed to mention that he attempted to seduce…a female relative of mine and convince her to elope with him. Of course, he only wanted her dowry. When I arrived unexpectedly, it ruined his scheme."
"How horrible!" Elizabeth was ashamed she had ever believed Mr. Wickham.
"Do you believe me?" Mr. Darcy regarded her sharply.
Elizabeth spoke without thinking. "Of course!"
He cocked a quizzical eyebrow at her. "You believe my version of events over Wickham's?"
"Yes." She paused a moment as she struggled to articulate why. "I do not believe you would trouble yourself to tell me a false story."
Mr. Darcy gave a bark of laughter. "So I am too proud to stoop to lying to you?"
She shrugged helplessly. That was not the message she had intended to convey, but it was not wholly inaccurate.
"I am pleased you believe me to be honorable." Again he watched her with alarming intensity. "At least some good has come from this farce, although too late."
What on earth did this cryptic statement mean?
A half smile quirked one side of Mr. Darcy's mouth. "The circumstances last night did not favor my innocence. In your position I might have made the same judgment."
"What will be your next course of action?" Elizabeth asked him.
Mr. Darcy crossed the room and sank into his chair again before responding. "I must locate the man who was with your sister, but she will not even admit his existence." Rather than anger, Elizabeth now saw weariness and anxiety in his face.
"I can question her again, but she is not likely to confide in me," she offered.
His mouth was set in a straight line. "I would not ask you to spy against your sister."
It was an admirable conviction, particularly given the circumstances. She responded without hesitation. "And I would not have you enter an unwanted marriage because of my sister's…folly. This other man should take responsibility for his behavior."
"It is enough that you believe in my innocence, Miss Elizabeth. Your faith in me is…most welcome." He stared at the fireplace and seemed to have difficulty articulating his thoughts. "However, I would not set sister against sister."
Before Elizabeth could respond, Darcy stood and straightened his coat. "I must speak with your father, and I will return to London today. But I will perforce return to Hertfordshire before long." He gave her a very precise bow. "I bid you good day."
He strode to the door and disappeared within seconds.
Elizabeth remained in the drawing room, considering Mr. Darcy for some minutes. He was a most puzzling man. Lydia's behavior had caused him endless trouble, yet he was insistent that Elizabeth not violate her sister's trust.
Just as Elizabeth contemplated taking up her long-neglected embroidery, a grim-faced Jane slipped into the room, clutching a letter in one hand. "Lizzy, may we talk for a moment?" Elizabeth felt a touch of anxiety. Such distress was most unlike Jane.
Jane sank onto a settee, biting her lip as she smoothed the letter on her lap. "I had a note from Caroline Bingley informing me that the whole party has removed to London."
This was a blow indeed; Jane had been so pleased by Mr. Bingley's attentions. But— "I am sure Mr. Bingley will be back to see you within a fortnight," Elizabeth said.
Jane shook her head slowly, blinking back tears. "Caroline writes that he has no intention of returning to Netherfield and will probably give it up as soon as he receives an eligible offer!" She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. "She also implies that Mr. Bingley is interested in Mr. Darcy's sister."
Elizabeth could scarcely credit the news. Mr. Bingley had seemed so enchanted with Jane; they were so perfectly matched. What possibly could have happened?
"Oh." Understanding struck.
"What is it, Lizzy?" Jane asked as she folded the letter into smaller and smaller squares.
Elizabeth rubbed her hand over her lips. "Perhaps this results from the events of last night—with Mr. Darcy."
Jane's brow furrowed.
"Mr. Darcy was angry last night at being forced to propose to Lydia." With good reason most likely. "Nor can Mr. Bingley's sisters look favorably on what occurred. Perhaps they are concerned you mean to entrap their brother."
Jane turned white. "I would never—!"
"I know, dearest!" Elizabeth patted her sister's hand reassuringly. "I daresay Mr. Bingley knows it as well." At least I hope he does. "But his sisters do not…trust easily."
A small sigh escaped from Jane. "I cannot possibly convince them otherwise if they are not in Hertfordshire."
"No," Elizabeth agreed, silently castigating herself. By judging Mr. Darcy too hastily, I may have helped to ruin all of Jane's hopes! Elizabeth's stomach churned uneasily.
She swiftly considered and discarded various possibilities for rectifying the situation. Mr. Darcy seemed relieved that I believed his account of the events. Perhaps if I speak with him, he could…but he is now en route to London, no doubt full of dark thoughts about the Bennet family. Not that such thoughts were completely unwarranted.
What have I done?