Page 64 of Penned By Mr Darcy
“No.”
“Boring,” Lydia sighed. “Fine.”
She wrote the note, a simple missive asking that Wickham meet her at sundown in a clearing near Longbourn, and they sent it off with Mr Hill to be delivered. The whole thing felt excessively underhand, but Mr Hill did not even question why he was being sent to the barracks.
Elizabeth found Jane resting in their room.
“I have asked Mr Wickham to meet me tonight.”
“To what end? You cannot give him Mr Darcy’s diary.”
“I do not even know what he wants with it, in truth. To publicise what he had written would serve only to implicate Wickham, and all else has no merit nor worth – it is simply Mr Darcy’s thoughts, and there is little to remark upon, save the dreadful incident.”
“I think he wants to embarrass the man,” Jane said softly. “It is not about what he could do with it, but simply that he has it. I amsure he will gloat to Mr Darcy, and that will be enough to cause upset.”
“You are right.”
“You must not give it to him, Lizzy. Such an action would be a terrible wound to a man as proud as Mr Darcy.”
“I have no plans to give Mr Wickham what he wants. I intend to see the diary returned to Mr Darcy this very day. I am going to depart to Netherfield at once. Will you come with me?”
“I will.”
“Thank you.”
She crossed to her side of the bed, removing the diary from its hiding place for the last time. She ran her fingers over the smooth leather, and dared to lift it to her nose and inhale the warm, familiar scent. When she brought it back down to her side, she felt Jane’s eyes upon her. She could not look at her sister.
“I urge you, Lizzy; be careful.”
“I will be.”
∞∞∞
They arrived at Netherfield just past noon.
Elizabeth clutched the diary tightly beneath her spencer, the leather-bound weight of it pressing against her ribs like a second heartbeat. Her gloves did little to steady her trembling fingers. Returning it was the only right thing to do.
The butler received them with polished courtesy, but the same could not be said of the mistress of the house.
“Good day to you, ladies,” Miss Bingley greeted, her tone clipped and cool. “We are not far from luncheon, so I’m afraid your visit must be brief.”
“We do not intend to stay long,” Elizabeth replied evenly. “I have come to return something to Mr Darcy.”
“Oh?” Caroline’s eyebrows lifted. “I did not know that Mr Darcy was in the habit of lending out his belongings.”
“It is merely a book from his private collection that he leant me during my stay here. I wanted to see it returned to him in person, for I have already tarried too long in seeing it back to him.”
“How very generous of him,” Caroline said, lips curving with insincere warmth. “I will see that he is summoned so this urgent exchange may occur. Tea, Miss Bennets?”
The invite was given so insincerely that Elizabeth almost laughed. It was clear that Caroline expected the invitation to be refused, for she had already made it plain that the visit was not to last long. Elizabeth opened her mouth to decline, but she found that Jane had begun to respond.
“Yes,” Jane replied with perfect grace. “Please.”
Elizabeth turned to her, briefly surprised. There was no trace of discomfort in Jane’s face—only composure. Gone was the soft deference that once made her an easy target. Elizabeth was grateful for it, because she herself felt anything but calm.
The butler was dispatched to retrieve the gentlemen, and the drawing room grew thick with polite tension. Mrs. Hurst and her husband were absent, and Caroline filled the silence with the occasional cutting remark, but neither Bennet sister rose to meet her venom.
The door opened at last.
