Page 25 of Mr Darcy’s Inconvenient Wife

“Mama?”

“You need not worry yourself, Lizzy. By tomorrow it will all be settled.”

“You keep saying so. You said it this morning, and now you say it again. What do you mean by it?”

“I mean that you are not to trouble your head about it.” Mrs Bennet pushed a list into her hands. “Take this to Hill, and tell her forty sugared almonds will not do. We have a wedding to get ready for.”

Elizabeth went out with the list in her hand. Through the library door came the steady drone of Mr Collins explaining the law to her father, and her father saying “Indeed?” every so often. Behind her, in the dining room, her mother had begun to hum.

Elizabeth stood in the dark hall between the two of them, and a small cold knot of worry formed in her stomach. By tomorrow, her mother said, all would be settled. Elizabeth could not remember a single time her mother had settled anything without first making it a great deal worse.

Chapter Twelve

Darcy

“He is whistling, Mr Darcy.”

Miss Bingley was waiting at the foot of the stairs. Darcy could either stop or walk round her, and she had placed herself so that walking round would look like running away. He stopped. Above them Bingley was whistling a country dance, very loud and not quite in tune. Every so often he broke off, presumably because the razor needed his attention, and then he started again from the beginning.

“It is his wedding day,” Darcy said. “I believe men generally do.”

“Do not jest. I am in no mood for it.” She waited until a footman had carried the last of the breakfast things through the baize door. “Nobody has come. There has been no note from Longbourn. There has been no servant, no message, nothing at all. I have been watching the drive since seven.”

“Perhaps Miss Bennet had nothing to write.”

“She had every reason to write. I made sure of that.”

She said it without a blush. Darcy looked at her and was not surprised, which was perhaps the worst of it.

“Then perhaps Miss Bennet knows him better than you gave her credit for,” he said. “She has been engaged to him for months. She must have noticed by now that he cannot keep a secret from one day to the next. Perhaps she simply did not believe what she was told.”

It was true, as far as it went. It did not go very far. He did not mention that yesterday he had stood on the Meryton road with Elizabeth Bennet beside him, while a young woman called Cassandra sat on a stone, laced up her boot and told them exactly who had paid her. Caroline would find that out in time. She would not find it out from him, and not this morning.

“Did not believe it?” Miss Bingley gave a short laugh. “There was nothing to believe or disbelieve. It was proved. Any other woman would have gone to him in floods of tears.”

“Miss Bennet seems to have done neither.”

“And you mean to do nothing about it?”

“Nothing at all.”

She stared at him.

“I am going to put on my greatcoat,” Darcy said, “drive into Meryton, and stand next to Charles while he marries her. That is all I mean to do. I ought never to have meant anything else.”

“I cannot believe I am hearing this.” She came closer and dropped her voice, although the hall was empty. “It was you who told me she did not care for him not long ago. It was you who said the family would drag him down. You listened to every plan I made, and half of them you made better.”

He could not deny it, so he did not try.

“I was a fool,” he said. “I thought I knew what would make Charles happy better than he did himself. I was wrong. He is not a boy, Miss Bingley, and it is not our business to manage him. If he chooses Miss Bennet, then he is the one who must live with his choice, not you and not I. I have interfered once already, and I will not do it again. And I hope you will not either.”

Two red spots appeared on her cheeks. “You make it sound as if I had done something wicked. All I have ever wanted was to save my brother from that mother and those sisters, and a father who hides behind his newspaper and laughs at the lot of them. You have dined at Longbourn. You know what they are.”

“I know what I used to think they were.”

“And what has changed your mind, may I ask?”

He did not answer. That told her more than any answer would have done, and he watched her work it out. She did not like what she arrived at.