Page 35 of Leave Her Wild
Mary declared, “It is Elizabeth who loves Mr. Darcy.”
“What?” Kitty exclaimed as Elizabeth attempted to prevent Mary from disclosing everything.
“I do not love Mr. Darcy,” she declared.
“Then you are excessively fond of him,” Mary argued.
“Even if I did—and I do not—the gentleman is engaged to marry our Jane. I could not think of confessing my affections to our sister,” Elizabeth declared. “And neither will you. Promise me that you will never breathe a word of this to anyone. Our family cannot suffer further scandal. Jane shall make hersacrifice, and I shall make mine. Promise me this all remains among us three.”
“We promise,” her sisters said as they encircled her in a group embrace.
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Darcy left Darcy House on Tuesday, before breaking his fast. He had slept very little last evening. Even when he did dream, it was of kissing Miss Elizabeth Bennet, not her sister. He was sorrowful that he had not done so when he had the chance within his quarters at Longbourn, though doing so would haunt him forever equally as well as not doing so. It would be wonderful if he could simply switch out one sister for another, but such would cause a scandal, not that he would care much for the gossip if he could escort Miss Elizabeth to Pemberley and not return to London for several years.
“I could claim everyone had been mistaken in which sister I had chosen,” he reasoned aloud when no one was about.
Before he returned home, Darcy meant to call upon Bingley. There were words of apology to speak. “A confession of how I recognized Bingley’s interest in Miss Bennet but pursued her, nevertheless. It shan’t settle the rift between us, but an apology should be spoken, despite how difficult it will be. My father would expect me to act with honor.”
Ironically, while crossing the avenue and park trail to speak again to the rector at St George regarding the arrangements on who to expect to attend and such, he spotted Bingley’s approach from the opposite side. Darcy swallowed his trepidation and waited for his friend’s approach.
“Good day, Darcy,” Bingley said as he reined in beside him.
“I had planned to call upon you today,” Darcy admitted.
“How so?” Bingley asked.
“First, I wished to express my gratitude for your removing Mr. Wickham from the area last week. I know you have little use for the man, but you performed with exemplary foresight and manners.”
Bingley shrugged his response. “You were in distress. I could do little else. We are friends, are we not?”
Darcy looked off to the tree line. “I always thought we were,” he admitted, “but I have not acted as a friend to you where Miss Bennet is concerned.”
Bingley shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. “I cannot disagree with your choice of wives. I have never viewed someone more beautiful.”
Darcy felt as if he was the villain in a poorly-played theatrical production. “You should know the truth. I require a wife now in order to save Pemberley. I must have an heir before my thirtieth birthday. Miss Bennet’s family has known shame with the elopement of the youngest sister with Mr. Wickham. We, the lady and I, have made a bargain based on need, not on affection. I would like to think I would have chosen differently if I had recognized your interest in the woman, but I believe I would still have put my father’s legacy and the lives of nearly one thousand souls who depend on Pemberley for their livelihood before your interest in the woman. She has done likewise to save her sisters and her mother, for Mr. Bennet’s estate is entailed upon another line of the family tree. I realize I will lose your companionship, but, hopefully, you will understand the need for a ‘devil’s bargain’ between the lady and me.”
Darcy was not to learn Bingley’s ire or his forgiveness, for an explosion of sorts filled the air, and Darcy found himself swaying in the saddle. Hot metal found a plate in his shoulder. He attempted to stay in his seat, but he knew he had lost the battle when his body slammed into the hard earth.
He heard Bingley screaming for assistance as his friend hovered over Darcy, shoving him to the ground and holding him there while the blood seeped through Darcy’s riding jacket and stained the grass upon which he laid.
Chapter Fourteen
Bingley ripped off his own cravat to press it against Darcy’s chest to staunch the flow of blood.
“Let us lift him to the back of my gig,” a man called as he brought his carriage to a halt near them.
Darcy gasped audibly when a group of men lifted him to rest upon the narrow bench.
A man in regimentals reined in beside the gig. “I am a surgeon,” he explained.
“Darcy House,” Bingley instructed, “opposite the square.”
“Can someone take my horse?” the captain asked as he climbed up onto the gig to assist Darcy.
“I have it, sir,” another man said.
“Follow me,” Bingley ordered while catching the reins of Darcy’s horse.
