Page 26 of The Blackmail of Mr. Darcy
“To want to marry Fitzwilliam Darcy is not insane,” Richard said. “But to think one can achieve such a goal by threatening to ruin his beloved sister….”
“Unbelievably barmy,” Darcy said. “Well, if you are determined to put your mother in harm’s way, let us send an express to her and lay out our plans. When and where do we set up the private meeting? Where do we meet so that it would seem reasonable for us to suppose that we cannot be overheard, but we actually can be? What specifically should you impart to me about your mother? It will need to seem juicy enough for her to want to tell people.”
Darcy frowned. “I just thought…. How could she even spread the rumour? Does she have London friends to whom she writes?”
Richard chuckled. “As if I could know that!” He shook his head and continued, “I believe I should be sounding very upset about an assignation that I came across, and then that I am worried about a continuing affair in the future. With…the Duke. I will just say that title as if you clearly know the one I am speaking of, without having to endanger another person’s reputation. If Miss Bingley dares to spread this, my mother will be delighted to squish her. She will be so happy with me for having created the problem that she will solve, I will become her favourite son for a fortnight or two.” He rubbed his hands and laughed, “I can hardly wait.”
He wrote his express, paid to send it, and then returned to the table to plan specifics with Darcy.
Darcy rodeback to Netherfield feeling a tumult of emotions. He felt satisfied to finally be making an active attempt to protect Georgiana, and he felt a surprising jolt of joy at the idea of thwarting Miss Bingley, of stopping her, of putting an end—he dearly hoped—to her infatuation with himself. But he was also worried. For his Aunt Helen, for his sister, for Miss Elizabeth, who might become a direct target for Miss Bingley.
He also worried for Charles Bingley. More than worry, he felt pity for his friend.
Bingley had always been weak and somewhat oblivious, when it came to his sister. Over the course of their acquaintance, Darcy had asked him several times to decisively end his sister’s hope of him, and, each time, Bingley had insisted that he had relayed the message. However, whatever Bingley had conveyed had not altered Miss Bingley’s attitude or actions towards him in any way.
Last summer at Pemberley, Darcy had decided he would have to speak to Miss Bingley himself. It was a short visit, and when the Bingley party was soon to depart, Darcy took advantage of a moment when he found himself near his friend’s sister on Pemberley’s sweeping drive, in full view of her family, but not within earshot. He proceeded to plainly and clearly tell her that he had no interest in her other than as the sister of his friend.
The direct confrontation was unpleasant to both him and Miss Bingley, and when the Bingleys’ carriage was loaded, and he farewelled the family, he could hardly bear to meet anyone’s eyes.
He had not seen Miss Bingley again until the current arrangement, this attempt on Darcy’s part to help his friend learn about estate management at Netherfield, and it was quite a shock to see evidence of Miss Bingley’s continued proprietary attitude towards him. The arm clutching and the public bandying of his name—let alone her threats—clearly showed that she had utterly disregarded his words.
Only now was he realising that, when he had confronted Caroline, minutes before she departed Pemberley, she had already eavesdropped on him and Richard, had already heard the information that she now attempted to wield against him.
He felt a wash of anger towards the woman as he reached Netherfield. Soon enough, Darcy found himself with his loathsome hostess.
Miss Bingley was simpering over how tired and thirsty he must be, and he cut her off by asking brusquely if his cousin had already arrived. “He has not, but I assure you, dear Mr. Darcy, that I have arranged everything for his stay here. I am so pleased to be hosting your dearest relation.”
“My dearest relation, madam, must in fact remain my sister,” he said. “Excuse me.” He strode away to his chambers andcleaned up and changed before he heard noises of welcome as Richard must have arrived.
Almost as soon as Richard had refreshed himself and dressed for dinner, it was time to gather in the blue drawing room. Georgiana was extremely pleased to greet her other guardian, and Richard exclaimed that she was even taller and prettier than the last time he had seen her.
Darcy was pleased to see Miss Elizabeth enter the room, and he approached her. “Would you allow me to introduce my cousin, who has recently arrived from Town?”
“To be sure,” Miss Elizabeth responded. She took the arm he offered, and he performed the formalities—but he was taken aback by Richard’s instant and blatant flirtation.
“Miss Elizabeth,” his cousin said as he bowed low and kissed her hand while keeping his eyes fixed to hers, “I have been looking forward to meeting you.”
Darcy saw Miss Elizabeth’s eyes sparkle and dance, saw her unaffected smile, heard her charming words: “Have you now? And for ever so long?”
Richard’s laughter boomed, too loud for a drawing room. Despite the fact that his cousin was the son of an earl, his jovial personality and his years in military service ensured that his behaviour provided a contrast to Darcy’s own more restrained, more polished deportment.
But he could be smooth with ladies, Darcy knew. Richard answered Elizabeth’s question, “Yes, ever so long—I have been looking forward to meeting you since the moment I knew of your existence, I assure you.”
Darcy felt as if his intestines were being sliced as Miss Elizabeth laughed along with his cousin. Blast it! He had admitted to Richard that he liked Miss Elizabeth; why was he acting in this manner?
Miss Bingley turned away from Stanford’s gesture at the door and, aiming a repressive glare at Miss Elizabeth, she announced in a coldly formal way, “Dinner is ready.”
His eyes met with his cousin’s, and Darcy wondered if, rather than flirtation, Richard was attempting to prod at Miss Bingley to better calculate ways in which to best her.
Chapter 17
Elizabeth
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was very different from his cousin. The colonel laughed often and smiled almost constantly. His laugh was loud, and his smile was wide. In contrast, Mr. Darcy chuckled softly when amused and only rarely—although, to tell the truth, his rumbly laugh was surprisingly pleasing. Mr. Darcy’s smiles were much more rare, as well; and most of his smiles were only a slight lifting of the corners of his mouth, or small private smiles aimed at just one or two people.
Now that Elizabeth had come to know Mr. Darcy better, what with Georgiana’s presence, Elizabeth’s stay at Netherfield, and the whole working-against-a-blackmailer situation, she felt privileged to have glimpsed a much brighter smile that revealed matching dimples in each cheek. But she had seen it, and them, only once.
Along with all the colonel’s laughing and smiling, he talked a lot. He seemed quite willing to speak at any time and on any topic. It was eminently possible that he was not as good a listener as the much more reticent Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth thought. Mr. Darcy usually looked distinctly uncomfortable with the scrutiny of strangers and acquaintances—especially, Elizabethhad noticed, when he was being praised—but the colonel apparently loved being the centre of attention. He entertained everyone at Netherfield Park as he told story after story of his and Mr. Darcy’s childhood antics.
