Page 17 of A Forced Marriage
"See that he is well cared for," Darcy instructed, his voice steady, though his mind was anything but.
The servant nodded and led the horse away, while Darcy, his steps measured and deliberate, made his way into the house. The warmth of the interior greeted him, but it did little to ease the chill that had settled in his chest.
As he approached the drawing room, he could hear the murmur of voices—Bingley and his sisters were clearly waiting for him. Darcy took a deep breath before entering, preparing himself for the inevitable inquiries.
The door opened, and the room fell silent as Darcy stepped inside. Bingley rose immediately, his face a mix of relief and concern. "Darcy! We were beginning to wonder what had happened. Sir William mentioned you had left the assembly on a borrowed horse. Is everything all right?"
Miss Bingley, who had been seated with a book she was barely pretending to read, looked up sharply, her eyes narrowing as she took in Darcy's appearance. "Yes, do tell us, Mr. Darcy. You left so abruptly; we were all quite concerned."
"There was a matter that required my attention." Darcy gave a brief nod, his expression unreadable.
Bingley pressed on gently. "I hope it was nothing too distressing. You must allow yourself to enjoy the calmness of this town, Darcy. There's a certain charm to Meryton that one doesn’t find in London."
"Perhaps Mr. Darcy was feeling remorseful about the way he spoke to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It did seem to trouble you greatly, did it not?" Miss Bingley added with a thin smile.
Mrs. Hurst, who had been listening with a look of idle curiosity, let out a light laugh. "Oh, Charles, you know how sensitive these country girls can be. It's hardly worth troubling over, Mr. Darcy."
Darcy’s gaze flickered over to her, his face remaining stoic. "My departure had nothing to do with any such concerns, Mrs. Hurst."
"It is quite ironic, though. No one seemed eager to dance with Miss Elizabeth before your conversation. It would appear that even the gentlemen of Meryton find her lacking. You were merely being honest, Mr. Darcy. There is no need to feel burdened by her inability to accept the truth." Miss Bingley, undeterred, continued.
Darcy, his patience worn thin by the evening’s events, shook his head firmly. "You are mistaken, Caroline. In fact, I intend to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
The silence that followed was so absolute that even the sound of a feather falling would have seemed deafening. Miss Bingley’s face lost all colour as she stared at Darcy inutter disbelief, while Mrs. Hurst’s fan froze mid-flutter, her eyes widening.
"Marry her?" Miss Bingley finally managed to stammer, her voice shaking. "Mr. Darcy, you cannot be serious!"
Darcy’s gaze remained steady; his tone resolute. "I am entirely serious."
"But... Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Hurst began, her voice tinged with incredulity, "Miss Elizabeth Bennet is... they are... not of our standing. This is... unimaginable."
"Indeed," Miss Bingley echoed, her desperation growing. "Elizabeth Bennet is beneath you. Surely, you cannot intend to align yourself with such a family. Think of your reputation, your connections—"
Darcy’s expression hardened. "I am fully aware of the implications, Caroline. But my decision is made."
Bingley, though visibly taken aback, managed to regain his composure, a faint smile appearing on his face, "Darcy, this is quite unexpected, but if this is truly your decision, then I can only wish you the best. I must admit, though, I am curious—what has led to this sudden change of heart?"
Darcy’s eyes darkened as he considered how much to reveal. "There are circumstances that necessitate this course of action. That is all I can say at present."
Miss Bingley, grasping at the last shreds of hope, ventured, "We heard about the accident, Mr. Darcy. We were still at the assembly when the coachman came for Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. Please, do not let it weigh on your conscience—it was not your fault. Surely, it is not reason enough to make such a hasty decision to marry her."
Darcy’s eyes narrowed slightly, his tone becoming more resolute. "Caroline, I assure you; my decision is not made out of guilt or haste. Miss Bennet is a woman of remarkable character, and I find that the more I have considered thesituation, the more I believe this is the right course of action. It is not for you, or anyone else, to question my resolve."
Miss Bingley’s mouth opened as if to protest further, but the firmness in Darcy’s voice silenced her. Mrs. Hurst looked from her sister to Darcy, clearly at a loss for words, while Bingley observed the scene with growing concern and curiosity.
"Now, if you will all excuse me," Darcy continued, his tone brooking no argument, "I must retire for the night."
Without another word, Darcy turned on his heel and left the room, leaving the Bingley sisters in a state of stunned silence. Miss Bingley’s complexion paled, and she exchanged a look with her sister that spoke volumes of their mutual disbelief. Bingley, though deeply surprised, remained thoughtful, his gaze lingering on the door through which Darcy had just exited.
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Mr. Bennet led Elizabeth into his study, his expression a mix of concern and resignation. He gestured for her to sit, then took his place behind the large wooden desk that dominated the room. The fire from a candlelight hissed softly, casting flickering shadows across the shelves of well-worn books. He reached for a small kettle on the side table, pouring tea into two cups with deliberate care.
"Here, Lizzy," he said, offering her a cup. "Tea might help to settle your nerves."
Elizabeth accepted the cup with a murmur of thanks, though she found little comfort in the warm liquid. She felt her father's gaze upon her as he settled back in his chair, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Shall I call for the doctor to attend to your leg?” Mr. Bennet inquired.
