Chapter Text
Darcy’s manservant approaches him with several jackets. Maxwell holds up the black one, Darcy’s usual choice, as he fixes his cravat in front of the mirror.
“The green one. Yes, that will do,” Darcy selects. His sister had told him that colour brought out the green in his brown eyes. He does not know if that made him more or less handsome in the eyes of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but he is hoping it works in his favour. Shrugging it on, Darcy checks his appearance. It will have to do. “Good.”
Maxwell fixes Darcy’s collar, a habitat that Darcy was normally fastidious about. He does not like to look less that perfectly put together – his father had always instilled the importance of a man’s appearance and what he projected to the outside world.
Not today though. Today he simply wants to be on his way. “Never mind,” Darcy hurries him along, finishing his dressing and heading to the stables. Mounting his horse, he takes off.
He has plans in Lambton.
Well perhaps that is overstating. He hopes that Miss Bennet will be at the inn so that he can extend his sister’s invitation to return for luncheon.
Yesterday had been near perfection. Having Miss Bennet at Pemberley was a dream he had never given himself permission to dream, at least since her refusal. She was vivacious, she brought their home to life. Georgiana flourished under her attention. The way that Elizabeth had protected his sister from Miss Bingley’s cruel remarks.
…The way she had looked at him from the piano.
It gives him hope that perhaps her feelings for him were changing.
He is not naïve. The damage he had caused with his previous proposal and his behaviour in Hertfordshire, it was a steep bar to overcome. Her words that day had provoked deep reflection in his conduct. As a child he was given good principles, but was left to follow them in pride and conceit. He was a good brother, a good friend, a good master, yet he could acknowledge that he had not always been a good man. If someone had come to his community and acted as he had, it would have been unacceptable. He had entered a new community and acted better than everyone else, given no one his time or conversation, his respect. He had let his pride get the better of him – paired with his general discomfort in society and his uncertainty surrounding how to help Georgiana after her ordeal in Ramsgate, he had behaved disgracefully.
Elizabeth had brought him to his knees. Stripped him bare and left him to rebuild. When he left her in Kent, that bitter letter in her possession, he had thought to never see her again. It had not stopped him from endeavouring to do better, to act beyond his pride and his shyness. Should Elizabeth ever hear word of him, he wanted to her know that he had listened to her judgement and changed himself.
That day in Kent, once he was past the anger, reinforced how he loved her. Perhaps that was the day he first truly loved her. Prior to that, he thought her love and acceptance an easy thing due to his position. He thought their arguments a pleasant diversion rather than a true understanding of her. That dreadful morning in the Collins’ drawing room, Darcy encountered her true emotions, any semblance of societal politeness out the window. Where she hated him, he loved her. Loved her protection of her family, loved her defense of what she deemed right, even loved that she refused him despite his wealth and position.
Finding her in the grounds of his precious home, especially when he was in that state of undress, had…bewildered him. He had barely kept his composure, his conversation inane. Fleeing had been his only option. Thankfully he caught her and her party before they departed as Darcy knew she would not have returned. He endeavoured to be welcoming and gracious, especially when Elizabeth had stressed who her company was. She obviously expected him to disdain the Gardiners, of course she did given how he had disparaged her relations in the past. The Gardiners are very pleasant – intelligent, well spoken, kind. Darcy would be happy to know them better if given the chance.
Elizabeth had obviously been embarrassed though she had no reason to be. Confusion was evident as well, likely due to the dramatic difference in his behaviour. Under the embarrassment and confusion, her attitude towards him was softened.
He loves her, more now than ever. The hope that Elizabeth may one day accept him is faint – it will do his heart no good to hope for such an unlikely event. He has no plans to propose today or anytime soon or perhaps ever. Only a hope to spend more time together.
Darcy hands his mount’s reins to a stableboy and heads into the inn. The girl who had directed him and his party to Miss Bennet and the Gardiner’s apartment previously is present. Hannah, if he recalled.
“Mr. Darcy,” she bobs into a curtsey. “How may I help you, sir?”
“I am here to see Miss Bennet.”
“Of course, sir.” She leads him upstairs. With a knock, she opens the door, “If you please, Ma’am.” Darcy enters the sitting room and bows sharply, Elizabeth curtseying in response. He barely notices as Hannah leaves, the door left open.
Darcy says, “Miss Bennet, I hope this…”
Elizabeth interrupts him, her voice so unlike he has ever heard from her. “I beg your pardon. I must find Mr Gardiner this moment on business that cannot be delayed. I have not an instant to lose.”
Concerned, Darcy says, “Good God, what is the matter?” Elizabeth only sniffs in response, tears shining in her eyes. “Of course, I will not detain you for a moment, but let me go, or let the servant go and fetch Mr and Mrs Gardiner. You are not well, you cannot go yourself.”
“No, I must.”
Darcy gently takes Elizabeth’s arm and leads her to the table, her bonnet and an open letter laid out on it. “Come, I insist, this will be for the best.” He will apologize for his high-handedness later, but for now, his concern for Elizabeth must be his excuse. “Hello there!” he shouts towards the door, Hannah entering a few seconds later. “Would you have Mr and Mrs Gardiner fetched here at once?” he asks, guiding Elizabeth to a chair. “They walked in the direction of…” Darcy looks to Elizabeth for directions.
“The church,” she says brokenly.
Darcy repeats her instructions to Hannah.
“Yes, sir, at once,” Hannah curtsies and closes the door with a last concerned look at them.
Darcy lays down his hat and riding stick and sits down across from Elizabeth. He had never seen her so distraught, even during his proposal. There was no anger, only unbearable sadness. Unable to resist, he leans forward, wrapping his fingers around her wrist, her heartbeat pulsing fast under his hold. “You are not well. May I not call a doctor?”
“No. I am well.” Elizabeth insists, “I am well.”
“Is there nothing you can take for your present relief?” he asks, releasing her. Elizabeth shakes her head, looking down, tears falling. “A…glass of wine? Can I get you one? Truly, you look very ill.” There must be something he could do. As Master of Pemberley, he is unused to being useless.
Elizabeth wipes her tears with a handkerchief. “No, I thank you. There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well. I am only distressed by some dreadful news, which I have just received from Longbourn,” she sobs, dropping her gaze.
Darcy raises his fist to his mouth, distressed by her despair.
Elizabeth tries to regain her composure. “I’m sorry, forgive me.”
“No, no,” he whispers, her apology unnecessary. Darcy touches her arm momentarily, connecting them.
“I’ve just received a letter from Jane…with such dreadful news, it cannot be concealed from anyone,” she says hopelessly. “My youngest sister has left all her friends…has eloped. Has thrown herself into the power…”
Darcy’s heart begins to sink. He has a dreadful feeling of where her story is going.
“…of Mr Wickham. They have run away together from Brighton. You know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connections. Nothing that can tempt him.”
He stands up abruptly and walks away, his back to Elizabeth. He needs a moment to suppress his rage. There was no need to frighten her. Rubbing his hands on his face, he forced a mask of calmness back into his expression.
“When I think that I might have prevented it,” Elizabeth cried. “I, who knew what he was. Had his character been known, this could not have happen… But it is all too late now.”
She must despise him. It is likely his preference for Elizabeth that directed Wickham’s attention towards her sister. The man had always been able to read Darcy. As she knew the truth, Wickham could no longer manipulate her into his favour so he played on the attentions of a silly girl. To hurt Elizabeth and through her, to hurt him. He had chosen to never reveal Wickham’s villainy. His pride would not allow him to lay his personal business open for the general populace. He could have revealed it while still protecting Georgiana, there must have been a way. If he had, Wickham would never have been accepted in polite society, never allowed close enough to the Bennet women for this to occur.
“I am grieved indeed. Grieved, shocked.” Darcy turns to face her, “But is it certain, absolutely certain?”
“Oh, yes. They left Brighton together on Sunday night. They were traced as far as London, but not beyond. They are certainly not gone to Scotland.”
Darcy walks to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. His mind was whirling. “And what has been done? What has been attempted to recover her?”
“My father has gone to London, and Jane writes to beg my uncle’s immediate assistance. I hope that we shall leave within half an hour. But what can be done?” Elizabeth shakes her head despairingly, “I know, very well, that nothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. She is lost forever, and our whole family must partake of her ruin and disgrace.”
Never! He will not allow it. London must be his destination in the morning. He has more contacts, more knowledge of Wickham’s behaviour and network. He would have a greater likelihood of finding the man than the Bennets. He knew how to work on him, what would make him comply. He needs to return home to make plans. “I am afraid you have long been desiring my absence. This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister’s having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley today.”
Elizabeth looks at Darcy, “Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologize for us to Miss Darcy. Say that urgent business calls us home immediately. And if you would be so kind as to conceal the unhappy truth as long as possible. I know that it cannot be long.”
“You may be assured of my secrecy. But I have stayed too long.” He walks over and picks up his belongings. “I shall leave you now.”
Elizabeth stands, “Yes. Thank you.” She curtsies, Darcy bows. “Goodbye.”
Darcy turns to leave, giving her a last look in case it was the last time he saw her. He would fix this. Whatever it took, he would protect Elizabeth.
As his hand falls on the door handle, a single word rings out.
“Wait.”