Page 15 of Pemberley's Imposter
“When they arrived, the colonel embraced me, and I did not like it. You know of my dislike of overfamiliar touches to my person, Jane. I let my displeasure show, and both the colonel and Mr Darcy were perturbed by my reluctance, but it is simply not done. A gentleman does not embrace a lady in company—or in private unless he bears the relationship of father, brother, or husband. Our acquaintance had been too brief—five or sixconversations, months past—and he was now a cousin. Imagine Mr Collins embracing each and every one of us when we met!”
Elizabeth shuddered, but so did Bingley and Jane.
“There can be no dispute in this, Lizzy. The colonel behaved inappropriately. But what could be the meaning of it? What could be his intent?” Jane asked.
“I do not know. It is all unfathomable to me. Why would he risk estranging himself from his cousin? Have you heard any rumours in London?”
“I have heard nothing, but that is not so strange because the colonel was sent on an assignment to Portugal, from which he has not yet returned.”
Bingley could hear Elizabeth’s stomach rumble across the table; she was clearly hungry, but with the meagre offerings on display, she was clearly reluctant to offer them a meal and too embarrassed to eat by herself. Jane must have heard as well because she rose abruptly to excuse them. The Bingleys soon left for the Full Moon Inn, leaving Elizabeth with the promise of their return the next day.
Mr and Mrs Bingley spared no time at the inn before making enquiries and hiring a midwife. The next morning took them on a bout of shopping before they visited Elizabeth bearing an abundance of gifts. They brought food, candles, fabric, and tea. Elizabeth could do nothing but accept; her sister would not allow it.
Parting at midday was difficult, but promises were made for copious letters to be written. Bingley left a substantial sum of coins for postage and emergencies, which Elizabeth reluctantly received and hid. Bingley brooked no opposition; in this he was firm. Neither he nor Jane was unyielding by nature, but their union had strengthened the mettle of both.
Bingley promised to take Elizabeth to visit her family as soon as Mary’s and Kitty’s courtships had reached their desired conclusions. Elizabeth did not dispute him, but she firmly declined his offer to terminate the lease on Netherfield and move to another part of the country, suggesting she could then live with them until her two maiden sisters had married.
“I cannot be the cause of uprooting Jane from everything she has ever known,” Elizabeth protested.
Bingley kept his counsel and postponed that particular argument for a later date.
As it turned out, the Bingleys did not limit themselves to sending letters; they also sent gifts.
Chapter 6 Courage or Blindness
London, July 1813
Darcy strolled leisurely down Bond Street whilst he waited for Georgiana to purchase the last items she needed before they returned to Pemberley, two days hence.
The Season had taken its toll on him, especially after escorting his sister to numerous balls, plays, concerts, dinners, and at homes. Georgiana enjoyed attending events, and there was nothing he would not do for his sister. He should not complain, not any longer. The relentless questions regarding his wife’s whereabouts had ceased after he had refused to answer any queries. He had simply glared at anyone who dared approach him with such officious enquiries. Darcy cared not what his stony silence made the inquisitive believe; the uninformed tattlers could hardly conjecture anything worse than the truth. An unsolicited memory of Bingley at Netherfield sprung to mind. The friend who thought him an ogre on an uneventful Sunday would have been appalled to witness his behaviour towards the probing quidnuncs. Darcy’s glare could render the flames of hell into tundra…
The only advantage left to his matrimonial state was that it deterred matchmaking mamas from accosting him on his own behalf; though they did approach him about his sister. It was fortunate he possessed such an intimidating scowl that few ofthe young bucks dared importune them.My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.
Darcy shook his head, chasing the memory from his mind, but the image of her teasing dark eyes stubbornly rested at the edge of his awareness. However, he soon discovered a valid reason to curse the inattentiveness Mrs Darcy had provoked: Mr and Mrs Bingley were walking towards him whilst chatting amicably between themselves.
The street was nearly deserted in the midday heat, so it was difficult to avoid the undesirable meeting. No chance of escaping the tedious questions that were certain to follow. Darcy sighed; he was less than ten steps away, and it was too late to retreat.
Mrs Bingley looked up and met his eye. The bright summer sun must have caught her face because her eyes narrowed significantly. Then she did the unthinkable thing—she grabbed her husband’s arm and turned them abruptly away from him. Bingley acquiesced without as much as a protest at her atrocious behaviour.
Mrs Bingley had given him the cut direct, on the open street, in the most fashionable part of London. It was social suicide. No one would side with the wife of the son of a tradesman over the illustrious connection of the Darcy heritage. It was to be hoped that none of his acquaintances had noticed. He looked about to see whether anyone was nearby when he overheard Mrs Bingley excuse her behaviour to her husband. “I am sorry I cut your friend, Charles, but you know I cannot lie. It was the only choice I could think of at such short notice.”
Mr Bingley patted the hand resting on his arm. “Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. That man is no friend of mine. By him, I was most grievously deceived.”
Darcy froze.Annoyed, stunned, horrified.An image flashed in front of his inner eye. He was able to quell it immediately these days and hardly ever dreamt about her.
Mrs Bingley had no reason to lie. Her opinion of him did not matter one iota. Her deceitful sister’s opinion mattered even less. The easily persuadable Mr Bingley was obviously under the thumb of his wife. The woman may look like an angel, but underneath her cherubic exterior lurked the soul of Delilah. She would be the destruction of his former friend; he was certain of it.
With a newfound determination, Darcy turned towards the seamstress his sister and aunt were visiting. It was time to return home. Construction and refurnishing awaited, with the promise of a good harvest come autumn. He had no cause to repine.Annoyed, stunned, horrified.He loathed doubt.
#
Easter, 1814
Darcy had been informed about Colonel Fitzwilliam’s return to British soil in January of 1814. This news had been of no concern to him at the time, as he and Georgiana still had some finishing touches left to do at Pemberley. Mainly adding books to the new library. The intricate system they had designed meant it was an exacting task, but the end result had made it worth the endeavour.
Darcy had been thus occupied until Easter and was therefore ignorant of the presence of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had also been invited to Rosings. He could not simply turn away on his aunt’s threshold without becoming subjected to an unpleasant interrogation he was loath to answer truthfully. The family knew Mrs Darcy had been sent away in disgrace but were under the misconception it had been her inferiority rather thanher perfidy that had led to her downfall. It served him well no one was any the wiser about what truly had transpired on that fateful night in his library. To be a laughingstock—or worse, to be pitied—did not sit well with him. He much preferred his current situation and wisely held his peace.
Encountering the colonel at dinner and the occasional tea was unavoidable. He treated him as though he were not present, which was easily done in the company of the loquacious Lady Catherine de Bourgh. To evade the colonel during the day, he buried himself in estate matters and refrained from engaging him in conversation when he could not escape his presence.
