Darcy winced. He had hoped Bingley would not notice that little incongruity in his story—particularly since Darcy had promised himself he would not lie to his friend again. “I…um…” The words emerged slowly as if dragged from his throat. “She was very angry with me and accused me of ruining her sister’s happiness.”
Bingley frowned. “Why was she angry with you? What did you do to her?”
Darcy’s honor was piqued. What did Bingley think he had done? He would not be offensive to Elizabeth! “I-I made her an offer.”
Bingley’s mouth fell open. “Of marriage?”
“Yes.” Darcy would not meet his friend’s eyes. He would see incredulity, but would he also see pity? That would almost be worse.
“After you declared that the Bennet family’s connections were too common for me?”
“Yes.”
“You understand my confusion.” Bingley’s voice had a dangerous edge.
“Of course, but…” How could he explain it when he barely understood it himself? “It was different…”
Bingley was on his feet again, looming over Darcy’s chair. Suddenly the prospect of a duel did not seem impossible. “Oh? How was it different?” he asked in a low growl.
Damnation! Darcy hated revealing himself in this way! Such information should be private, but Bingley deserved the truth. “When I saw Elizabeth at Rosings, I realized I had…fallen in love with her, Charles. I could not imagine my life without her.”
“Oh.” Bingley’s eyes widened, and he retreated several steps. “I-I see. Good…excellent.” He swallowed. “Let me offer you my congratulations.”
“There is no need.” Darcy strove to keep the bitterness from his tone. “She refused me.”
“She—what?” Bingley said. “Are you certain you heard her correctly?”
Darcy snorted. “There is nothing wrong with my hearing. She was quite insistent; there was no mistaking her meaning. She does not like or respect me—which, you must admit, are excellent reasons for refusing an offer.”
Bingley blinked rapidly. “Huh. I knew she found you a little high-handed, but I did not realize… Well, I had no idea you were partial toward her, so I was oblivious to much.”
“I took pains to conceal my sentiments.”
Bingley nodded in an abstracted way. After a minute he asked, “Have you tried to change Miss Elizabeth’s opinion of you?”
“No, I left Rosings the next day.”
“I believe you would make a good match. You should—”
Darcy interrupted him, having no desire to revisit the frustration and melancholy Elizabeth’s very name provoked. “I did not visit to discuss my affairs; I came to discuss yours,” Darcy reminded him. “Given what we now know, I believe you should return to Hertfordshire and resume your courtship of Miss Bennet.”
“Hmm…” Bingley tapped one finger against his mouth.
Why had his friend not already ordered his horse saddled? “It is not too late,” he murmured softly. “I believe she is still unattached. If you still have feelings for her—”
“If!” Bingley said with a short laugh. “I only think of her half a dozen times a minute!”
“Then you should leave for Hertfordshire and declare yourself.”
Bingley nodded slowly. “I will do so on one condition: that you accompany me on the trip and speak with Miss Elizabeth again.”
The very thought filled Darcy with terror. “There is nothing left to say.”
Bingley stood, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “I doubt that. She was angry over your highhandedness; it does not necessarily follow that she will hate you for the rest of her life.”
“My standards for my betrothed are higher than the cessation of animosity,” Darcy said with a grimace.
Bingley said nothing but stared out of the window. Darcy waited; his friend must go to Hertfordshire. Nothing else would lessen the damage wrought by his actions. Finally, Bingley lifted his chin. “You must come with me, or I will not go.”