Page 32 of The Blackmail of Mr. Darcy
Bingley looked absolutely determined as he promised to do better.
Darcy sighed, not wanting to get to his final point, but knowing it was important to do so. “My valet has reported to me that your sister has been telling the staff that she will marry me and will soon accompany me to Pemberley.”
“You cannot be serious.” Bingley did not, of course, look as if he thought Darcy was jesting; he looked ill.
“The thing is, Bingley, I am afraid that your sister suffers from some form of mania, or delusion, or I know not what. I believe that you must look into some sort of physician’s attention or an asylum or—” He broke off, seeing his friend pale dramatically.
“Not…not Bedlam,” Bingley whispered.
“Surely not that particular asylum,” Darcy agreed. “But perhaps York Retreat? I have heard good things about it.”
“I shall have to look into it,” Bingley promised. He did not even wish Darcy a good night as he left the study and went straight to his rooms.
The next morning,Ryles reported in a very low voice that the silver salver on which outgoing mail was kept now contained eight letters in Miss Bingley’s hand. He gave Darcy a list of the names of the intended recipients but pointed out that, as of now, none had actually been posted.
Even though it was yet early, Darcy strode to Richard’s room to consult him—and to do so quietly, in writing. After explaining about the outgoing messages, he wrote “I intend to ask Ryles to carefully open the letters, ensure that it is only gossip about your mother, and not about Georgiana, and then use fresh wax to close the original seal.”
Richard decisively nodded his agreement and consigned Darcy’s message to the fire.
Darcy explained to Ryles what should be done, and he expressed his gratitude for services “surpassing all expectations” by giving his valet guineas to be shared among all who had helped keep a close watch on Miss Bingley.
He dressed himself for his ride; Richard joined him, and of course a simple ride for exercise turned into a competition of both hedge jumping and speed. When the men returned and reported upstairs for their normal bathing and shaving routines, Ryles was able to report in a whisper that all of the letters dealt with a certain named countess and a certain unnamed duke, and none of them hinted at misbehaviour by Georgiana. Therefore,as per Darcy’s instructions, they would all be delivered as intended.
At breakfast, with no Bingleys nor Hursts in attendance, Richard brought up the hunting and fishing opportunities at Netherfield. He asked if Darcy had set any traps for weasels or stoats or other vermin.
“I did, quite recently, set one trap,” Darcy said. “I managed to catch a creature that tried to take the bait.”
Richard nodded; message received.
Darcy suggested waiting until Bingley and Hurst made an appearance, and then going out for a few hours of shooting.
He noted that Georgiana and Elizabeth had been listening carefully. He detected a flash of understanding in Elizabeth’s beautiful eyes. He felt a bit ashamed to have referred to baiting Miss Bingley as an attempt to trap “vermin,” but he also felt strongly that it was still incumbent on the people who are less weasel-like to remove the danger of, or at least mitigate damage incurred by, the more vicious among them.
Darcy heard Elizabeth tell Georgiana that she intended to walk early, before the men went hunting. He lurked near the door to the garden; when Elizabeth appeared in her half-boots, bonnet, and pelisse, he politely asked if he might join her.
She smiled and said, “This will be no stroll, and you have already gone riding. Are you sure that a man of your advanced age can keep up?”
Darcy grinned, remembering his own claim to an “advanced age,” and he was delighted to detect a bit of breathlessness in his companion. He had become more and more certain that his feelings for Elizabeth were not entirely unrequited. When she left Netherfield, he would call on her to formally signal his intentions of courting her.
As they briskly walked the paths through garden and forest, they discussed the South American mountain, Chimborazo,mountain sickness, and other matters related to Humboldt. Elizabeth admitted to him that she had barely had time to read of his later explorations now that Jane was sleeping less. Her reading time of late had been devoted to reading to her sister.
“Do you read novels, sir?” Elizabeth asked Darcy. She looked ready for a mischievous battle with him over the worthiness of novels, and though he enjoyed exchanging verbal thrusts with her, he answered honestly: “I do. I feel that it is important, at least for now, to read whatever my sister is reading. I do not read ahead of her, in order to give permission, but as much as I can I read alongside her so that we might discuss any issues.”
He had the pleasure of watching Elizabeth’s face change from mischievous to surprised and then approving.
“What sorts of issues do you discuss, Mr. Darcy?”
“Do you, like so many of our compatriots, disapprove of slavery?” he hazarded. At her emphatic nod, he went on, “We discussed Robinson Crusoe’s attitude about the enslavement of people. He was a slave owner and a would-be slave trader, and although he himself was once enslaved, and miserably so, he went on to sell Xury to a sea captain and to treat Friday as a servant or even a slave. We went round and round about all of that. There is nuance to be considered, but ultimately, in my opinion, we can categorically state that Crusoe’s ideas about enslavement, as penned by Defoe, are a form of commonly-seen evil.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. With her slightly elevated rate of breathing, due to the fact that they were now walking an upward slope, and her cheeks flushed from her exertions, she had never looked lovelier. She said, “It seems that my father and I have been having identical discussions here in Hertfordshire that you and your sister undertook in Derbyshire.”
He felt his smile grow; he felt his heart expand. He could picture these sorts of walks, these kinds of conversations, thisbrand of delight becoming the fabric of his life…if he could convince Elizabeth to marry him.
Tromping through the woods,shooting pheasants, chatting pleasantly with Richard, Hurst, and Bingley, Darcy found himself feeling more optimistic than usual. Instead of focusing on his own guilt about how he had failed to protect Georgiana, he was feeling proud of the strength she had developed. Instead of being mired in worry about fulfilling everyone’s expectations in regards to his estate, his family name, and his legacy—which he had always supposed involved marrying a diamond of the first water and siring a son to carry on the name—he was feeling contentment in working hard, doing his best, and choosing joy over duty when it comes to marriage.
But of course, life was fraught with complexity. As the four men emerged from the hunt with nine brace of pheasants, Darcy remembered that two of them had just baited a trap for the sister of the other two. His gut churned with guilt; he would never have thought he would have to do such a thing. On the other hand, remembering Miss Bingley’s threats against his sister as well as her presumption in talking to others as if he and she were a couple…he really did have to dosomething about her!
He shot a sideways glance at Bingley, wondering if he was at all concerned about his sister’s reaction to being removed from the honour of being his hostess. Bingley looked cheery enough that Darcy shook his head. Choosing joy and love was all very well, but one should also have consideration for the safety and happiness of others—especially one’s own household, including servants, and one’s guests.
