Page 39 of Penned By Mr Darcy
I have written to Colonel Fitzwilliam to make inquiries into Wickham’s debts and movements. I shall ensure that wherever he turns next, doors remain closed to him.
Elizabeth snapped the diary shut, her breath catching in her throat. What she had read defied comprehension. It was no mere scandal - it was a disgrace of the highest order. To think that MrWickham had sought to steal away a young girl from her own family… The thought of Miss Darcy’s suffering made Elizabeth’s chest tighten, and the image of Mr Darcy enduring such anguish stirred something raw and unexpected within her.
She had been so very wrong.
And yet, despite the guilt that now gnawed at her, she couldn’t stop herself. Sheneededto read more. She needed to understand the man who had so utterly unsettled her - and who now, in this moment, inspired something dangerously close to sympathy.
Chapter Thirteen
Darcy
His diary was lost forever, that much was plain. He had combed over the grounds of the estate with meticulous care, and had found nothing. Whether it was lost to the elements, or had been discovered by someone else, he did not know.
It was that uncertainty that gnawed at him.
He was a fool to have continued the diary after Ramsgate; he ought to have procured a new one, a fresh start after the horrendous events of the summer. Like a fool he had continued, and the diary was now almost filled. The details of the events that had so affected his sister – and he had written in such detail! – had the capability of destroying her reputation. More than that, it would be Georgiana herself who would be destroyed, for such a sweet, sensitive soul could not stand the shame that society would undoubtedly thrust upon her.
His melancholy had been noticed by the entire party at Netherfield.
“Darcy, whatever has happened?” Bingley asked one morning as they prepared to ride out. “You have not been yourself.”
“I am quite well.”
“You may wish to tell your face that. You look wretched. Come, man, what has come over you?”
“I…” Darcy inhaled. “I misplaced my diary out on a ride.”
“Oh?”
“I have retraced my steps half a dozen times, and have found no trace of it.”
"Is that why you’ve been out riding so frequently? Honestly, I thought you were either avoiding my sister or mourning the departure of our guests."
“No.”
“The house feels so empty without them, doesn’t it?” Bingley said wistfully. “It’s odd - I barely spoke to Miss Bennet, yet I still miss her presence. I found great comfort in knowing that she was here. And Miss Elizabeth… she’s quite delightful, is she not?”
“I suppose.”
“Imagine if we were to marry sisters, Darcy. We’d be family. I already think of you as a brother, though I know you’ve no interest in Caroline.”
“I have no interest in Miss Elizabeth Bennet either, Bingley. You’re imagining attachments where there are none – including your own. I do not believe Miss Bennet shares your affection.”
Bingley’s shoulders sagged. Darcy regretted his bluntness; Bingley required a great deal of sugar to coat any truth told to him, for he was sensitive in nature.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re letting your hopes run away with you. What proof has Miss Bennet given - beyond a few polite smiles - that she returns your affection?”
“I…”
“I do not doubt she would accept you, but not out of love. Her reasons would lie elsewhere.”
Darcy knew his words were unkind. Bingley flinched as if struck.
“You’re wrong,” he said quietly.
“Am I?”
