Darcy and Deception

Darcy sighed; Hertfordshire was the last place on earth he wished to visit. The very thought caused his heart to race. But he owed his friend an enormous debt, and this would be his penance. “Very well. I will come. But do not be surprised if Miss Elizabeth refuses to speak with me.”

***

The most notable feature of Longbourn’s drawing room was the absence of one Elizabeth Bennet. Upon their arrival, Mrs. Bennet had risen and granted Bingley an effusive welcome while Jane Bennet granted him a shy smile that boded well for the man’s future chances at matrimonial bliss. Two of the younger sisters were also present.

Mrs. Bennet’s welcome to Darcy was far less enthusiastic; he might have been tempted to call it curt. Whatever other faults one might lay at her door, she was not prone to forgetfulness—particularly when it came to perceived slights. Darcy’s fortune would not restrain her dislike of him. He grudgingly admired someone who adhered so closely to her “principles” despite the social and monetary advantages Darcy’s friendship could convey.

Bingley sat beside Miss Bennet while Darcy chose a chair as far from Mrs. Bennet as possible, near the window and beside Mary Bennet, who barely peered up from her book of sermons long enough to acknowledge the visitors’ arrival. He believed the other daughter was Kitty, which meant the youngest, Lydia, was absent along with Elizabeth.

After a few minutes of desultory conversation, Darcy’s relief at not immediately encountering Elizabeth gave way to concern. Where was she? Was she lurking upstairs, having refused to see him? Was she ill? Darcy longed to inquire but feared any questions might draw atten

tion to his interest in Elizabeth.

Of course, she and Lydia might be visiting friends or buying ribbons in Meryton. Taking a sip of tea, Darcy hoped to soothe his nervous stomach. There was absolutely no reason to fret. Her absence is a boon, he reminded himself, yet the lack of Elizabeth gnawed on his nerves.

The conversation had turned from the state of the roads to the unusual warmth of the weather. When Mrs. Bennet launched into a detailed description of her friends’ various health complaints, Darcy allowed his attention to wander. His gaze frequently drifted to the window in the hopes of spying Elizabeth on the road.

“—since Lydia and Lizzy are away—”

“I beg your pardon?” Darcy said.

Mrs. Bennet blinked; Darcy had interrupted rather suddenly. “Where did you say El—your other daughters are at present?”

Mrs. Bennet sniffed. “I did not say, but they are gone to Brighton with Colonel Forster’s regiment. Lydia is a particular friend of Mrs. Forster’s—and such a favorite with all the officers!” she crowed. “And Lizzy has gone to keep her sister company,” she added as an afterthought.

Recalling Miss Lydia’s behavior, Darcy concluded that Elizabeth’s purpose was to prevent her sister from shaming the family. Regardless, she was not at Longbourn.

Darcy set his teacup down on the saucer so forcefully it clanged, causing everyone to glance in his direction. Devil take it! Not only was Elizabeth gone, but she was at Brighton surrounded by hundreds of lonely soldiers. Of course, he had not expected anything of a romantic nature to occur, but he had thought to catch a glimpse of her.

Darcy grasped the arms of his chair, resisting the impulse to leap to his feet and demand a horse for Brighton at once. He had no reason for visiting the seaside resort, and Elizabeth would not be pleased to see him there.

Bingley’s face held great sympathy. I hope my distress is not so obvious to the others.

Mrs. Bennet was still rattling on about Brighton. “Lizzy is not quite so popular with all the officers, but one of them has taken a fancy to her.” She gave Darcy a meaningful glare. With a stab of panic, he realized she meant Wickham. But surely Elizabeth was immune from Wickham’s charms after reading Darcy’s letter at Hunsford.

Only now did Darcy realize how much he had wanted to see Elizabeth at Longbourn. Although he had tried to quell any hopes, he had still imagined conversations in which he sought her forgiveness and persuaded her to accept a courtship. Now the prospect of several days at Netherfield felt hollow and pointless.

“Darcy?” Bingley’s voice shook him from his reverie.

“Hmm?”

“You were woolgathering.” His friend chuckled.

Darcy scowled. He disliked laughter at his expense, particularly when he was already out of sorts.

“We are taking a walk, and I asked if you would join us,” Bingley said.

An escape from Mrs. Bennet’s prattle? “It would be my pleasure.”

Apparently, Mary Bennet did not care for walks, so the party consisted of Miss Jane, Miss Catherine, Bingley, and Darcy. Remembering Kitty from his previous sojourn in Hertfordshire, Darcy fervently hoped that she remained fixated on red coats and had not acquired an interest in men of large fortune.

As the ladies donned light wraps in the front hallway, the younger Miss Bennet treated Darcy with such complete indifference that his fears were allayed. Within minutes the quartet was strolling along the dusty country road.

Jane and Bingley were immediately engrossed in earnest conversation, which apparently required a walking pace that a slug would find tedious. Kitty and Darcy soon left them far behind.

Darcy strode beside the younger Miss Bennet in silence. What could he possibly say to a girl of this age? All he knew of her was that she liked men in red coats—hardly an appropriate subject for conversation.

However, Kitty might have copious information on one topic of keen interest to Darcy and no doubt she would be indiscreet enough to share it. “I was surprised to learn that your sisters were gone to Brighton,” he said.