One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (57 page)

The officer stood to read the letter, which he read through not once, but three times. When he had finished with it, he folded it and put it in his pocket. “So Wickham compromised your sister. I assume she is the girl who went upstairs a moment ago?”

Darcy nodded. “Although the letter implies that he compromised her, on her word, a chaste kiss was all that ever passed between them. Nevertheless, he imposed on a shy, reserved young lady who trusted him as a friend. He persuaded her that he loved her when it was her inheritance of thirty-thousand pounds that he desired. You can well imagine how she came to believe herself in love with him—he has a smooth tongue and has practiced this deception on others before her. With no experience in such matters to guide her, and a paid companion who failed to protect her, they very nearly eloped last summer. It was only through the grace of a well-timed visit that the plot was discovered before they went to Scotland.” Although Darcy recited the facts with little emotion in his demeanor, the officer detected pain and sorrow in the man's eyes.

“Now I understand why you were not immediately forthcoming with Wickham's letter, Mr. Darcy. His death resolves a number of problems that afflict you, is this not true?”

“Not at all, I assure you. It increases my problems by half again at least.” Darcy replied.

“By what calculation do you say this, Mr. Darcy?”

“Previously, my only concern was to contain the damage from the letter and prevent Wickham from ruining my sister's reputation. They say that every man has a price, sir, and of Wickham, no statement was ever truer. I would have secured his cooperation with only the pain of drafting a note to satisfy his greed. Now, with his death, my entire family will undoubtedly suffer from scandal. Particularly, sir, until I clear myself of the charges you have laid at my door. Your suspicions are understandable considering that Wickham was determined to undermine my happiness.” Darcy began to pace in the short space in front of the window.

“My sister has already suffered deeply from the events I related to you. I fear that if you chose a course other than discretion, she will be exposed to all of society, partaking in ruin and disgrace of the acutest kind. My own intentions of betrothal must of necessity be postponed until these matters are resolved, for I cannot subject my intended or her family to the scrutiny and gossip that will naturally follow such a death in my own household.”

“Your intended is this Elizabeth Bennet he speaks of? Was she acquainted with Mr. Wickham?”

“To some extent. It was she and her sisters I spoke of making his acquaintance on the road in Meryton the day that I warned him.”

“Is she aware of Wickham's latest interference?” The officer's eyebrows rose, marking the question with the possibility of Elizabeth as a suspect.

“She most certainly is not, nor is her family. Only Colonel Fitzwilliam and I know of it.”

“Then I must speak with the colonel. Where may I find him?”

“I sent an express requesting my cousin's immediate presence in London just moments before you arrived, while the doctor was making a more thorough examination of his body. Knowing the colonel as I do, I predict that he will not wait for morning to come but will arrive on horseback sometime during the night. I daresay that he is the sort of man that the highwaymen do not trouble.”

“I shall return, then, in the morning.” The officer made another note. “I respectfully advise you not to leave the city until such time as the question of who killed Mr. Wickham has been fully investigated.”

“Of course.” Darcy agreed with a frown.

“Now, I must determine what to do with the man's body. The doctor informed me that he has no family to claim it.”

“If I may be so bold, sir, I am as close to family as Wickham had on the earth, unless you count the numerous bastards that he sired, and they can do nothing for him now. I should like to do this one last service, on behalf of my father, who was much attached to Wickham. I will pay to transport his remains to Derbyshire and arrange for burial in the churchyard near his own parents. The death will be recorded in the parish register at Kympton.”

The officer looked curiously at Darcy. “Very well, sir. I will allow it.”

~*~

After Mr. Collins had spoken with Mary, it was not long before his absence from the household was noted by Mrs. Bennet. She questioned Lydia and Kitty, and Mr. Bennet as to whether they knew of his whereabouts, for she wished to speak with him about Lady Catherine. He was not to be found, and Mrs. Bennet's distress over his disappearance echoed through the hallways, driving Mr. Bennet to his study and Lydia and Kitty outdoors. The servants too found occupation in distant corners of the house.

It was but two hours later when a note came from Lucas Lodge requesting that his belongings be sent to him there, for he would no longer reside at Longbourn. The man from Lucas Lodge had brought a cart, with instructions to wait for the trunk. Mrs. Hill found that his trunk was already packed, and so it was that without so much as a farewell, Mr. Collins quit Longbourn.

As the Lucas’s cart was being loaded with Mr. Collins' trunk, a visitor arrived. His visit was unexpected, although not unwelcome. His arrival did much to calm Mrs. Bennet's nerves, and Mr. Timmons, the local parson was invited to join the family in the sitting room.

A visit from the parson was not unprecedented; however, it had been some time since he had come to attend the Bennets at Longbourn. Mrs. Timmons had died giving birth to their first child two years previous, and he had faithfully observed a period of mourning for the first year. His emergence from that period was not so obvious as it would be for most, since he always wore black regardless, but he was, in fact, missing the benefits of companionship and domestic bliss that marriage had previously afforded him.

When Mary Bennet had brought Mr. Collins to visit him, he was surprised to discover the young lady well versed in scripture and doctrine. Her quiet demeanor had caught his attention, and her obvious desire to live by the word had touched him. He had never truly noticed her before, for she was nearly invisible to him as the plainest in the family of five sisters, but on the day she came with Mr. Collins, she seemed prettier than he recalled.

From the moment that visit had begun, he had quietly observed her and found her to be exactly the sort of woman he knew he could be happy with, although he thought, perhaps, Mr. Collins had perceived her value and developed an interest in her. It had been his good fortune today to see Mr. Collins on the road, walking toward Meryton. He had engaged the parson from Kent in a friendly conversation, and upon learning that Mr. Collins' visit at Longbourn was over, Mr. Timmons had set out shortly afterward to initiate his suit in hopes of finding favor in the eyes of one Miss Mary Bennet.

~*~

Bingley stood at the threshold. In reality, it was at the threshold of the sitting room to Darcy's old quarters, but today, he felt it to be the threshold of his entire life. He knocked at the door, paused a moment, and admitted himself to the room. Jane sat in a chair near the fire. It was evident that she had dozed there, for she jumped with a start when the door opened.

Bingley closed the door behind him. “How is Miss Elizabeth?” he asked quietly.

“She is sleeping, Mr. Bingley. She is still quite unwell—the fever is back.” Jane worried. “Sarah is with her now, keeping her as cool as she can.”

“I will have another bath prepared shortly. That seemed to provide a more lasting effect, did it not?” Bingley offered.

Jane looked shyly away. “Thank you, sir, it did.”

“Miss Bennet.” Bingley crossed the room to where she sat and extended his hand to assist her to a standing position. When she stood before him, he raised her hand to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles before he released her. “Do you know why I am here, Miss Bennet?”

Jane blinked innocently. “To inquire after my sister, I think.”

At this response, Bingley unsuccessfully fought back a smile. “No.” He shook his head with mock seriousness. “I am come to inquire after you. How are
 
you
 
today, Miss Bennet?” He looked directly into her eyes.

“I am well.” Jane blushed and broke the gaze.

“You look well.” Bingley replied. “You look very well indeed.” A cheerful grin began to spread across his face in spite of his attempt to be solemn.

“Thank you.” Jane fidgeted slightly. “Has Lady Catherine gone?”

“Miss Bennet, I do not wish to speak of her. I wish to speak only of you.” Bingley lowered his voice. “When we first met at the Assembly Ball, I knew that I had met an earthbound angel. You are all that is lovely and gentle and kind, Miss Bennet, and as I have come to know you further, I have been witness to your affectionate nature and determination to see all that is good in the world.”

Jane looked up at Mr. Bingley, her eyes shining with the realization of what was happening.

“I am blessed, Miss Bennet, with sufficient means to provide for you, and establish a home wherever you wish to settle. I promise to care for you and love you to my dying day if you will accept my hand in marriage.” The grin had disappeared from Mr. Bingley's face, replaced by an earnest, hopeful expression, as he waited for Jane's reply.

“Did you say you love me?” Jane whispered.

Bingley nodded, “I did.”

Tears began to well up in Jane's eyes but did not fall. They instead clung to her pretty lashes and made them sparkle as she nodded her head in return, echoing the movements he had just made. “I accept your proposal, Mr. Bingley. I accept your hand and your heart and—well, all of you!” She giggled daintily and blinked, releasing the tears, which now spilled down her cheeks. “I love you too.” She added softly.

“Are you saying yes?” Bingley's grin was back. He took both of her hands in his and just held them as he stared into her face in wide-eyed rapture.

Jane, nodding her acknowledgement to his question, matched his grin with a serene smile. They stood this way, foolishly staring at each other for several minutes. Finally, Jane spoke. “I must go to my mother and tell her.”

“Your mother will certainly be happy for our news,” Bingley said, “But I must go to your father and obtain his consent. Do you think he will have me as a son-in-law?”

Jane smiled at the ridiculousness of the question. “Oh, he will have you if my mother will.” Then they laughed together. Jane became serious afterward and said, “If we can see to Elizabeth's fever before we go to Longbourn, it will ease my mind. It will be all right to leave her with Sarah for a few hours.”

Bingley agreed and ordered the bath, leaving Jane to attend to Elizabeth while he went downstairs to order the carriage to take them to Longbourn. He then paced in front of the doorway for five full minutes. Occasionally a little skip worked its way into his stride as the joy of knowing that Miss Bennet had accepted him overflowed to his feet.

Suddenly, he bounded up the stairs, making double time as he took the climb two steps at a time, arriving back at the doorway to the sitting room. The servants were still bringing water for the bath, so after a moment's hesitation, he opened the door.

“Jane!” he called excitedly, and she came out from Elizabeth's chambers.

“Mr. Bingley? Is something wrong?” she asked with alarm.

As if in response to that question, Charles Bingley took Jane's face in his hands and pressed his lips against hers in a swift, gentle kiss. He released her and grinned at her astonished expression. “Nothing is wrong—not at all! You have made me the happiest man who ever lived, and I wish you to be as happy as I. I pray that you will forgive me for taking such a liberty, but in the absence of an engagement gift, it did seem the ideal way to accomplish it.” He grinned again at her, clearly pleased with himself.

Jane smiled shyly at him. “Mr. Bingley, I am very happy, but you must refrain from kissing me until we are wed. When we talk to my father, let us seek a short engagement, so that you may resume your liberty taking at the earliest possible moment. I am all aflutter.”

Mr. Bingley readily agreed.

Chapter Forty-Five

Real or Imagined Dreams

J
ane helped Elizabeth back into the freshly made bed, smiling contentedly to see how much her sister was improved from the bath, which had once again cooled the fever. Elizabeth lay back against the cool pillows with a small sigh.