Darcy suspected that Collins had reduced the domestic staff and prodded the Bennet sisters into assuming some of those duties. Dependent on his goodwill, they would be unable to decline.
Darcy uttered an oath. Elizabeth and her sisters deserved better treatment.
He had been minutes away from proposing to her at Hunsford. She could have been mistress of Pemberley—a role she would have filled admirably—but instead she was little better than a maid at Longbourn.
Guilt settled on his shoulders even more firmly. Yes, Wickham was a blackguard, and Lydia was the fool who had run away with him. Certainly Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had been too lenient with their youngest.
However, Wickham had singled out the Bennet family because he had perceived Darcy’s interest. The blackguard had sought out Elizabeth’s friendship first; no doubt he had hoped to compromise her, but she had too much sense. Thank God.
Darcy swore again. If only he had disregarded that foolish impulse to leave the country, then he might have paid Wickham to marry the chit. Leaving had made sense at the time, but it had exposed Elizabeth and her whole family to untold misery. If Darcy had stayed, Lydia would not have been exposed to certain disgrace and Mr. Bennet might now be alive.
He had been the worst sort of hypocrite sitting in Longbourn’s drawing room. The Bennets smiled at him and fed him tea, unaware they should blame Darcy for their situation.
I must make amends. But how?
Darcy had every confidence that Timson would locate Wickham eventually—if the man were still alive. Likewise, locating Lydia Bennet would ease the family’s worries. Surely they could be induced to marry, but that would do little to alleviate the scandal at this late date.
In what other ways could he help? Restoring a family’s respectability was not an easy task, particularly when they had no fortune to speak of. Darcy could continue to visit, demonstrating his continuing approbation. But his endorsement would accomplish little on its own.
Naturally a small voice at the back of his mind screamed that marrying Elizabeth would solve all her problems, but he was reluctant to do such damage to Georgiana’s marital prospects. He also considered encouraging Bingley to make an offer to Jane Bennet, but it would be hypocritical to advocate something he was unwilling to do himself.
What a tangle!
Darcy reined in his horse on a bridge spanning a stream while he stared down into the bubbling water. The constant movement was at once soothing and inv
igorating.
If I cannot imagine an obvious method for helping the Bennet family, then I must confide in someone close to them and ask for advice. Such a resolution made his hands twitch uneasily. He disliked being a supplicant, and it would require revealing at least some of his culpability regarding Wickham.
He wished he could speak with a male relative, but Collins was hopeless. Darcy considered speaking with Phillips, Mrs. Bennet’s brother who practiced law in Meryton, but the man did not possess a fraction of the tact required. And Darcy could not even recall the name of Elizabeth’s relatives in London.
Then it must be one of the women. Mrs. Bennet was out of the question; she could not keep a secret if her life depended upon it. The two younger girls were silly. Only Jane or Elizabeth remained. Darcy blew out a breath. Elizabeth had a quicker mind and would be more likely to agree to help him. Or was he merely trying to rationalize his desire to see her alone? She was also more likely to argue with him than Jane.
He clenched the reins in his fists until the leather bit into his palms. He could consider his options forever and never come to a conclusion. But now was the time to act.
Undecided, he kicked his horse to a trot toward the inn.
Chapter Six
However, the very next day, circumstances helped Darcy to a decision.
He had summoned his steward to Meryton and spent the morning sequestered with the man in one of the inn’s private rooms. Darcy made some of the many decisions that had accumulated during his absence, so at least he was not neglecting his duties completely. The steward would remain overnight at the inn, and they would continue their work tomorrow. Darcy owed his employee no explanation for the apparent eccentricities, but the situation made him uncomfortable nonetheless.
Unfortunately, Darcy’s family was not so easily ignored. Georgiana longed to be at Pemberley and wrote every day while his cousin Richard Fitzwilliam had already sent one pointedly worded letter. Darcy’s vague claims of business would satisfy them only for a short time.
But Darcy had made little progress. Although he longed for Elizabeth’s presence, he could not visit Longbourn again so soon and give rise to rumors. Yet remaining at the Meryton Inn did little to accomplish his mission.
Darcy fretted over these questions all morning and throughout the inn’s rather insipid luncheon, but then fortune smiled upon him. As he stepped outside for a walk about the town, he spied Elizabeth lingering outside the shop that also served as Meryton’s post office. He swiftly set off in her direction but immediately slowed his pace when he saw her greeting a man exiting the store.
The face was familiar, and Darcy was soon able to recall the name of Mr. Foster, an amiable local squire of about forty years. He was friendly with the Bennet family, and certainly there was nothing exceptionable about his stopping to chat with Elizabeth, except that she had appeared to be awaiting him. Was it an assignation?
Foster was widowed with no children. Although he certainly was not Elizabeth’s social equal, he might make an attractive match for a young lady who was eager to escape her current situation. A hot swell of jealousy rose in Darcy’s throat, threatening to choke him. He tried to push it back, reminding himself he had no claim on Elizabeth since he had determined he could not offer for her himself.
But the rest of his body was not heeding these reasoned arguments. His feet already carried him toward the pair at an alarming pace. Only with conscious effort was he able to slow to the sauntering speed of a gentleman at liberty.
Drawing closer to Elizabeth and Foster, he strained his ears to hear their conversation. They were talking about…sheep?
“The lambs will be weaned in a few weeks. How many will you be wanting?” Foster said.