“Well, then,” Mr. Gardiner said, ignoring Wickham’s move to clasp his hand, “I believe all is in readiness at home. Will you share in the wedding breakfast, sir?” he addressed the minister, who politely declined. He turned to Darcy. “I know that you must be away and will not join us save for dinner tomorrow, when this pair are gone.” He extended his hand, and each shook the other’s with a firmness that testified to their mutual regard. “You are very good, Mr. Darcy. It is an honor.” Mr. Gardiner bowed and, calling his wife to his side, descended to the waiting carriage.
“Darcy.” Wickham addressed him.
“Wickham…Mrs. Wickham,” he acknowledged them. Mrs. Wickham curtsied and giggled.
“When will —?” Wickham asked, stepping closer.
“As soon as I arrive home, all will be set into motion,” he murmured. “See to your wife, and it will be well.”
“Of course!” Wickham stepped back and clasped his new wife to his side. “She is worth a great deal to me, is she not?” A new cascade of giggles fell.
“Mrs. Wickham.” Wanting nothing more than to be gone from them both, Darcy bowed quickly to the bride and strode down the stairs to his carriage.
“Home,” he directed his driver.
“Yes, sir,” his coachman answered him as he gathered the reins. Folding up the stairs, the groomsman shut the door, and Darcy’s view of the newly married couple was obscured. Dropping his hat onto the seat, he closed his eyes and stretched, releasing tension in muscles cramped by a tight grip on decorum. Ah, it was good to be in his own carriage again! Traveling about anonymously in noisome hired cabs had held some adventure, but it was over; and he was glad of it. Such intrigue was better left to others who by nature enjoyed it. He must be for Pemberley as soon as possible…as soon as possible. He relaxed into the thought. Pemberley. How he needed to be home!
Chapter 10
Full Circle
Darcy examined the knot of colorful silk that was his driving club’s signature neckcloth, observing in particular the series of knots cascading with deceptive ease into the top of his waistcoat. Club rules decreed that it be arranged precisely so, and no member would be granted entrée to the dinner if it deviated in the slightest degree. Never one to abide such nonsense, Darcy had not attended the Four-and-Go Club’s annual dinner since his induction a number of years before, but tonight was Bingley’s night. Therefore, not only Fletcher’s skill but his memory also had been called upon to produce the required entrance ticket.
“Well done, Fletcher!”
“Thank you, sir.” The valet lowered the hand mirror and placed it carefully on the dressing table. “I only hope that Mr. Bingley’s man can achieve the same result. His last attempt was merely passable.”
“That is why Mr. Bingley will come to Erewile House for your inspection before going to dinner.” Darcy shrugged into the frock coat his valet held up.
“Indeed, sir!” Fletcher replied as he smoothed the shoulders. Darcy could hear the smile of satisfaction in his voice. “I shall await your summons.”
Nodding, Darcy gathered his fob and pocket watch, left his rooms, and proceeded down the stairs to the Small Parlor. The much-longed-for retreat to Pemberley after the Wickham affair had lasted only a week. His Matlock relations had arrived hard upon his return, and most of his time had been spent in their service. Lord and Lady Matlock were not unwelcome guests, and the introduction of his cousin D’Arcy’s new fiancée, a lovely and modest young woman suggested by Her Ladyship, was a pleasure, especially for Georgiana. Darcy managed a few private moments with his sister in which to confide his discovery of Wickham and relate in general terms that the affair had been brought to a successful conclusion. She listened with sympathy and accepted his abbreviated account with a sincere joy that all had ended well for the family of her newest acquaintance. “Might Miss Elizabeth Bennet visit us again?” she asked, but he held out only a weak “Perhaps” as a possibility.
Georgiana’s desire to see Elizabeth again echoed strongly in his own heart. How he longed to know her thoughts, her feelings about all that had transpired! Was she recovered from her pain? Had she returned to her former liveliness, or had the whole affair changed her irrevocably? The frustration of his desire was an ache in his chest. She could never know of his involvement beyond her desperate confession to him that day in Lambton. He had expressed to the Gardiners in the strongest terms that his involvement be kept secret and that Lydia be sworn to silence. The Bennet family was to know nothing. He had, in short, no reasonable expectation of ever seeing her again. It was entirely possible that he would never witness the least result of his efforts. But had he not known that from the first?
“Show him in, Witcher,” Darcy instructed his butler upon Bingley’s announcement at the parlor door. With quick strides, his friend came and, in some perturbation, stood before him and demanded Darcy’s opinion of “this blasted knot.”
“Driving the course under the critique of the country’s most noted horsemen and whips was not half so unnerving as my man’s fiddling with this thing.” He flipped the ends of his silks with contempt.
Darcy laughed. “I have already put Fletcher on notice, Charles. Come, let him set you to rights before the others have at you.”
“I feel at such sixes and sevens,” Bingley confided to him later as Darcy’s carriage pulled away from the curb. “It is not just this.” He motioned to his neckcloth. “Or the scrutiny of the club on my every word until my induction this evening. It is my whole life!” he ended in exasperation.
“How do you mean? Has something happened?” Darcy turned to him in concern.
“Nothing in particular, but that is part and parcel of the problem. I have no goal, no direction. Nothing to strive for or against,” he answered. “Yet, there are decisions which I must make that could very well determine my future.”
“The stuff of life,” Darcy commiserated lightly, but his companion was not deterred.
“For instance,” Bingley continued, “I determined last year that I simply must have my own country house. My social obligations demand it. I had hoped to have that settled by now, but deuce take it, I cannot make up my mind. Only last week, I received an inquiry from the agent for Netherfield Hall asking if I intend to purchase it or not. Caroline is against it…”
Netherfield! Darcy’s mind set to racing. He had forgotten about Netherfield, assuming that Bingley had terminated his lease months ago. Netherfield! And only three miles distant — Elizabeth!
“Perhaps,” he delicately interrupted his friend’s musings, “another visit might help you to make your decision.”
“You advise it?” Bingley drew back. “That was my own feeling, but…So, you do! Well!” He shook his head as if in wonder. “Would you, then, possibly consider —?”
“Accompanying you?” Darcy finished for him, then wished he had bitten his tongue rather than betray his eagerness.
Bingley did not appear to notice, for his next words were a rush of gratitude that spilled on into dates and plans until the carriage pulled up to the site of the club’s dinner. “This is so good of you, Darcy!” he exclaimed, descending to the curb.
Good of you? Darcy thought to himself as he followed Bingley into the hotel, or was it merely selfish opportunism? Upon reflection, he decided that it was a mixture of both. He had interfered last autumn with such harmful results that, whether Jane Bennet received Bingley or not on this second foray into Hertfordshire, Darcy was forced to acknowledge he owed his friend a full account of his conspiracy to part them on the first. It would be uncomfortable and embarrassing — eventualities he richly deserved — but worse, it might very well cost him the friendship of this decent man. That, he owned with a deep pang, he would deserve as well.