Sufficient Encouragement Refresh– Chapter Fifteen

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Chapter Fifteen

“I wish you would have called on Darcy yesterday,” Caroline said as she sipped her tea at the breakfast table. “We might have been invited to Lady Crenshaw’s dinner then.”

Bingley rolled his eyes. His sister was forever using Darcy as a means of entrance to events she otherwise could not attend. They had no acquaintance with the Crenshaws. “I had no time for calls. I am here only on business. I am surprised Darcy is in Town, though. He said he would remain at Netherfield, although that was when I expected you and Louisa would remain as well.” He scowled at his coffee. “I must finish as quickly as possible and return.”

“You worry too much what those undignified country people think of you.”

“It is quite uncivil for us all to leave without bidding them goodbye. They were quite hospitable to us. You think they are too simple to know the slight you are giving them, but I assure you, they have easily discerned your dislike.”

His true reason for wishing to return to Netherfield was to see more of Jane Bennet. Although they had danced, she had not saved a space for him on her dance card the evening of the ball. She had smiled when he requested his sets, but she did not blush as though she had been wishing for it. Nor did she whisper that she had hoped for it. Immediately, he questioned her regard and aborted his plans to propose. Upon later reflection, he thought that was too bold for her. In this, he must be the bold one. First, however, he needed a strategy for learning her heart. “I will call on Darcy today.”

“Oh! I long to see dear Georgiana again.”

“You will have to make your own call on her. I am leaving directly, and you are not prepared.” He stood and gave her a nod before leaving. He was seldom so stern with his sister, but Darcy would not appreciate the favour Bingley needed to ask, and he would dislike having Caroline in tow even more. Additionally, if all went well, Caroline could not go with them to the bachelor apartments of Darcy’s cousin, Lord Arlington.

In a short time, he arrived Darcy’s townhouse and rapped over-eagerly on the door. Darcy’s butler showed him to the study. “Mr. Darcy is busy at the moment. If you wait here, I will see if he can meet with you.”

Bingley glanced around the room. It was strange that Darcy was not already in the room. He looked at his friend’s desk; it appeared pristine and untouched this morning. Ordinarily, he would be shown into the room with Darcy at work, and Bingley would sit across from him. As the sole occupant, Bingley was uncertain where to sit. He stood awkwardly in the room. How strange that he should feel this uncomfortable at his best friend’s home. Shaking his head at his ridiculousness, he sat in his usual chair. It was the errand that made him nervous.

Soon, Darcy entered. Dark circles were under his eyes, and his complexion was ashen. “Bingley.” Darcy nodded at him. “I trust you are well.” A cough racked his frame, and he shuffled to the sideboard.

Bingley shook his head in refusal at the silently offered liquid. “I thought you were recovered?”

“Between the gruelling pace of my ride yesterday and my aunt’s insistence that I attend Lady Crenshaw’s dinner, I overexerted myself.”

“You did not need to come downstairs for my sake!”

“It is only a cold. I will rest for a few days, which I did not allow myself to do while in Hertfordshire, and I shall quickly mend.” He motioned to the set of chairs by the fireplace, and Bingley followed him.

“What caused you to come to London? I thought you agreed to stay at Netherfield?”

An angry look flashed in his friend’s eyes before he looked away and sipped his port. “I did. Although, it seemed silly with your sisters and brother gone.”

“And for that, you set off at a breakneck pace?” Something did not quite make sense. Darcy said nothing. “Was there something wrong with Miss Darcy?”

“I…I did worry, but all seems well.”

“Will you tell me what is bothering you?” Darcy raised an eyebrow at him, and Bingley explained. “You have been out of sorts since last summer. The way you first behaved in Hertfordshire…well, it was abominable. Just when it seemed you were warming up to their society, you turned all surly again after meeting Mr. Wickham that day. It is unlike you to fall ill, and yet you cannot overcome a mere cold. You race to London on a moment’s whim—the exact opposite of your usual ways. Something is plaguing you.”

Darcy stared at Bingley for a long moment, seemingly warring with himself and his need to share his burdens. “You are in love with Jane Bennet, are you not?”

Bingley blinked in surprise. “I am,” he said levelly.

Darcy stood and walked to the fire, staring at it as though it would grant him wisdom. “I always thought of you as a brother. Perhaps I wished you were too strongly at times.”

“It comes as no surprise that even after our years of friendship, I cannot follow your train of logic. How does my loving Jane Bennet relate to your concerns?”

“I did leave Hertfordshire worried for Georgiana’s welfare.” He coughed and then took a sip of the wine. After his breathing had calmed, he looked at Bingley once more. “Last summer, while Georgiana was at Ramsgate, she nearly eloped with a man. George Wickham,” he ground out the name, “followed my sister there and convinced her she was in love. He desired her dowry. Despite not wishing her to be tied at sixteen to a fortune hunter for life, I had always hoped she would marry the most gentlemanly man I know. One whom I would not hesitate to call brother.” Darcy paused and sent Bingley a significant look.

“Me?” Bingley asked in astonishment. To think that only a few moments ago he had wondered where he should sit in his friend’s library, and the man had considered him the ideal candidate for his sister’s hand in marriage.

“It is for that reason that I kept this burden to myself when ordinarily I would not keep a secret from you.”

“You cannot think that I would judge her unworthy by a youthful misadventure.”

“No, I would not. But if a romantic attachment developed later, I thought it Georgiana’s right to inform her suitor.”

The men were silent for a moment and a dreadful suspicion entered Bingley’s mind. “Is this why you counselled me against Jane?”

“No. I would not interfere between equal and fervent love out of interest for my sister any more than I would wish someone to interfere in my life. It was, however, officious of me. You are the best judge of your happiness.”

Too affected for words, Bingley only nodded, and Darcy did likewise.

Darcy sipped his wine again before continuing. “I fear Wickham’s appearing in Hertfordshire is no mistake. I find myself entirely divided in my loyalties. I do not wish to be away from Georgiana, should Wickham be scheming of a way to hurt her again, but perhaps the best way to detect any such schemes is by being near him. Ignoring his existence in the world and hoping he would leave me alone has not worked. I believe he plans to blackmail me to pay for his debts in the area. I ought to return and warn the shopkeepers.”

Bingley mutely nodded. He was astonished that Miss Darcy would have considered such a thing. Wickham must be quite the charming rogue to break through her reserve. “I am resolved to return to Netherfield as soon as I can. I will gladly assist you in any way, and you know that Miss Darcy is welcome as well.”

“I worry about bringing her so near him. I have no fear that she would elope with him, and I do not imagine him so evil as to physically harm her in some way, but I know she would hate to see him again. I fear what he could do to her fragile emotions. Mrs. Annesley will be visiting her daughter.”

“We do not need to associate with him or any of the officers. Surely, between my sisters and us, we can protect Miss Darcy.”

“No! Your sisters must not think there is anything amiss.”

“Are there any others who you would trust to see to her welfare and occupy her time?” Bingley’s eyes lit up. “What about Lord Arlington?”

“You would wish such a cad in your home?”

“Caroline is not a debutante; she knows an incorrigible flirt from a serious suitor.” Darcy raised his eyebrows, and Bingley laughed. “You do not flirt, but neither are you hateful to her. You are enigmatic and gentlemanly. Your cousin is a confirmed rake. Caroline is a social climber, but she would not desire his title if it means sacrificing her pride and respectability.”

“You sound as though there are others you believe I am hateful to,” Darcy said before another round of coughs.

“Do not trouble yourself, old man. When you are well, we will return to Netherfield with Miss Darcy and Lord Arlington.” He stood and looked at his feet. “I had hoped to speak with him on a matter anyway.”

“Oh?” Darcy asked.

“You wisely pointed out not long before the ball that I am uncertain of Miss Bennet’s affections for me. I know I have been led to believe more than once by a charming woman that she truly cared for me. A man with a reputation such as he has must be better than you or me at deciphering a lady’s interest.”

To Bingley’s surprise, Darcy smiled. “You know, I quite like that idea.” He clapped Bingley on the shoulder as they walked to the door. “I will send a note in a few days, and we will call on him together.”

*****

While Bingley was visiting Darcy, Viscount Arlington met with his solicitor.

“How attached are you to these investments in the North?” the greying man said as he patted a stack of papers.

Arlington’s lips twitched. “I didn’t know one could be sentimentally attached to factories. Are they in trouble?”

“There’s quite a bit of unrest in Nottinghamshire. Out of work farmers upset over the technology in the factories.”

“My investments are in Lancashire. Surely they are safe.” Truthfully, Arlington would rather do anything but give up those factories. The one near Bolton, Lancashire was the first investment he made, shortly before Claire died. It marked the beginning of his independence from his family. “What are a few unhappy farmers?”

“You would do well to recall your history lessons. Small rabbles always find a king, and it’s said this group has one. You’re too young to remember the problems after forty-five.”

“So are you,” Arlington smirked. His father had been a child when the Jacobites were defeated at the Battle of Culloden. “A group of poor farmers is not the same as having the support of Scottish lords and chieftains.”

“We were lax with the Americans but France changed everything, even your father agreed there. You know how fast we put down the rebellion in Ireland.”

“Still, they’re Englishmen through and through.”

“Aye, but there are Jacobins among them. They were all Englishmen in the Civil War, but that didn’t stop the slaughter.”

Arlington stood. He had no time for history lessons. “I think we’re done today, Bridges. I’ll be ‘round after Christmas to go over the quarterly statements again.” He was halfway out the door when he recalled an important change he needed to make. “Oh, and send no more gifts to Miss Smith.”

Mr. Bridges took up a pen and made the note. “And who shall they be sent to instead?”

“No one,” Arlington said and left the room.

He had chosen to not take a new mistress after Sophia left him for Hopewell. There were plenty of willing ladies, but none of them attracted him. Mere beauty bored him and even reputations of inventiveness in the bed chamber no longer thrilled him. He never meant to marry and the ladies his mother thrust in front of him still held no appeal. He would take his time and discover some gem, unnoticed by other men. He did not expect constancy from a female, but some companionship of shared interests and enjoyable conversation would not be remiss for a change.

Inside a hackney coach, Arlington ran his fingers through his greying curls. There was no denying he was getting older. The responsibilities he always ran from, were now unavoidable. His father was approaching seventy, and far too soon, Arlington would become Lord Fitzwilliam. Already the Earl was less active in Parliament, when he once stood as a true statesman, like a beacon before other men. Arlington had disagreements with his father and mother over their personal understanding of classes in society but had always admired his father’s politics. He might not have the stuff in him to be an earl, a steward to the estate and title while begetting heirs, but he did revel in his political prowess. His father had groomed him well in all aspects, but the cunningness and shrewdness required for politics appealed to him in a way the straightforward and plain talk of a master to a tenant never did.

Put simply, Arlington had always enjoyed the game. As a youth, he was a talented athlete and skilled in chess and debate. After drifting for three years after Claire’s death, his lordship suggested that Arlington run as MP for West Riding and with his father’s staunch support gained an easy victory. Immediately, he showed great skill in matters of diplomacy and thought. He loved nothing more than to intellectually best an opponent and out argue him. With women, he had always enjoyed the chase and the conquest more than the fruits of his labour. So, why now that he was free of Sophia could he not consider a new lady to seduce? And why did he feel entirely dead inside at the notion of taking as mistress one of the women he already passed over several times before?