Page 60 of Penned By Mr Darcy
“Not now. Please.”
“What is the matter?” Caroline asked.
“It is none of your concern.”
He swept past her without any of the usual courtesy, charging up the stairs. His cases had been returned to where they were storedafter his fit of pique yesterday, but they would need to be fetched once more. He had to leave; now he had returned to Netherfield, the walls seemed to be closing in on him. His clothes were too tight, his skin both hot and cold. He could not relax, could not think.
He sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, his head lolling forward. His breath escaped him, his throat tight. He could not cry; he barely shed a tear for his father - he would not breakdown over this. It was a folly, a love affair – could it be considered a love affair if only one party held such feelings?
He sat there for some time. The luncheon bell sounded, and he did not move. He heard the chatter of the house continue around him, but he could not move.
Sometime later – he was not sure how much time – the door to his chamber burst open. He lifted his head sharply, turning towards it.
“Thank God you are here.”
“Bingley, I…”
“Hush. Miss Elizabeth returned to Longbourn in a state of utter distress. I did not even realise that she had left the house, nobody did.”
“Yes, I am sure she was.”
“She asked me to pass a message to you. It makes little sense to me, but she was adamant that you be told.”
“Well?”
“She said ‘tell him Mr Wickham saw.’”
His blood ran cold.
“That is all that she said? She did not elaborate?”
“No, that was all that she said. Mr Wickham is the chap we saw in town, isn’t it? The fellow from your childhood. What did he see?”
Darcy stepped closer to Bingley.
“Is she hurt? Did he hurt her?!”
“No. No, she was shaken, but not harmed.”
“I have made a terrible mess of things. I will see this put right.”
“Tell me, man, what has happened? If there is something concerning Miss Elizabeth, you must tell me. After all, she will soon be my family.”
Darcy hesitated.
“I’m sorry?”
“I will ask Miss Bennet to marry me as soon as the ball is over. I wish to let Caroline have her last moment as mistress of the house.”
Darcy blinked at his friend, uncertain whether to be impressed by Bingley’s sudden boldness or alarmed at his haste. The firelight played across Bingley’s face, lending a youthful eagerness to his features, though his eyes, for once, held something steadier than mere enthusiasm.
“Bingley…”
“Do not dare say a word against it,” Bingley interrupted firmly, raising a hand as though to stay Darcy’s inevitable caution. “I have heard enough. She will make me happy, and I will do my very best to ensure that I do the same. Do not occupy yourself with my fortune or her portion. Tell me instead—what has happened with MrWickham and Miss Elizabeth?”
Darcy exhaled slowly, rising from his chair and pacing toward the window. The night outside was heavy with fog, the kind thatobscured everything beyond arm’s reach—fitting, he thought bitterly, for the uncertainty of his present situation.
“She claims it was an accident,” Darcy said at last, his voice taut. “That it fell from my pocket on the driveway as we said goodbye. I followed her, intending only on getting it back. I am a wretch, Bingley. Before I knew what was happening, she was in my arms.”
