Friends and Enemies Page 2

  Darcy turned his head to look at the man seated next to him. Charles Bingley was as different from George Wickham as Georgiana was from Lydia. Bingley was affable, amiable, and kind. Wickham, on the other hand, was a consummate liar, a man who practised almost every vice known to the lowest dregs of humanity and who selfishly presented himself as honourable when he was, in fact, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  How dare Miss Lydia condemn him, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Esquire, and promote Wickham as a gentleman! The foolish girl! It was good her older sister had taken her in hand. He chuckled to himself as he recalled the sight of petite Miss Elizabeth grabbing her youngest sister by the ear. What had she told Miss Lydia? ‘If you were caught, you would be made to wed, and I would not wish that outcome for my enemy.’

  Miss Elizabeth certainly had the right of it. He would not wish his worst enemy, George Wickham included, to marry Lydia Bennet. No man, no matter how corrupt, deserved a future with that crass child.

  Wait a moment! With Miss Lydia claiming her sister held him in disapprobation, did Miss Elizabeth mean it would be a tribulation to be attached to her sister? Or, did she instead mean it would be a hardship for a woman to be married to him?

  As he re-examined the conversation, a sick feeling started churning in his stomach. Oh, dear Lord! Instantly, he felt the rapidity of his pulse and the shallowness of his breathing. For a split second, he thought he might have to put his head down between his knees to keep from retching. Coolness crept from his chest to his forehead as his hands quivered in shock. She had meant him! Elizabeth Bennet had thought it would be a trial for even her silliest sister to connect herself to him, grandson of an earl and Master of Pemberley!

  “Darcy, do we need to stop?” Bingley was staring hard at him. At his words, Parker looked at his master as well.

  The stares of the two men made him want to squirm in the seat—a feeling he had not had since his youth.

  “Why do you ask?” Darcy quickly replied to gain time to settle himself. He swallowed back the bile and used his handkerchief to quickly wipe the perspiration from his upper lip.

  “Your face is vacillating between pale beige and the colour of creamed peas, and your hand is gripped so tightly on the window sill, I worry you will pull it from the glass. Are you ill?”

  “I beg your pardon, Bingley,” Darcy rushed to ease his friend’s concerns. He wanted to lie, to blame his current turmoil on something he had eaten earlier, but his honour would not allow deceit. “Do not be concerned. My purpose in returning to London is a matter of weighty concern. I shall regain my composure as soon as I reach Darcy House, I am sure.”

  “Is it Miss Darcy? Has she come to harm?”

  Darcy stared at his friend closely. Was he somehow aware of the events at Ramsgate? Surely not!

  “No, Georgiana is at Pemberley enjoying the new pianoforte I gifted her prior to travelling to Hertfordshire. She could not be more pleased.” He felt his breathing stabilize as his pulse slowed. Focusing on the pleasant past with his sister always calmed him.

  “Might I offer my assistance, Darcy?” Bingley’s concern was honestly done. “I should not always rely on you for help when I know you have your own burdens to bear. However, with that said, I do realise that since becoming acquainted, I have made relatively few decisions on my own.”

  Darcy nodded, accepting the truth of the statement and relieved to be thinking of something other than the Bennets.

  “My habits have to change, as I am aware.” Bingley was twisting his hands together, something he did when nervous or upset. “Now that I have charge of an estate, I need to take control in other areas of my life as well.”

  “I am pleased to hear of this, Charles.” Darcy was, in truth, relieved. He enjoyed the company of the younger man, but often felt like he had a puppy running around his legs, trying to trip him up and distract him. A pleasant pup, but a whelp just the same.

  “You see, Darcy, that is the thing.” Bingley gulped and Darcy wondered at the younger man’s nerves. “We have known each other since the day I lost my father. I will never forget your resolute kindness.”

  “Thank you, Charles.” Darcy remembered the circumstances when they met. A long-time retainer at Darcy House had died and, rather than leave the arrangements to his man of business, Darcy took personal interest in seeing to all the details. When he walked into the London chapel to confer with the clergyman, he saw, standing off to the side, a young man dressed entirely in black, alone, his gaze fixed on the stained-glass window. Never had Darcy seen someone who looked as desolate. A whispered question to the rector revealed the gentleman had just concluded his business arranging for the funeral of his parents. Under normal circumstances, Darcy left people to their own business, but something moved him to step to the man’s side, introduce himself, and offer aid. Possibly it was that the young man looked exactly like he had felt when his own father had died. He had been extending help ever since.

  “You see…the thing is… uh…” Bingley hesitated.

  “Just tell me, Bingley.” Darcy sighed, inherently knowing he was not going to be pleased with what he heard.

  “Well, then I will.” Taking in a deep breath, Bingley exhaled quickly and began speaking. “In the past month, as my guest, you have taken it upon yourself to make changes to the running of Netherfield Park—my home. I have often not been consulted. Instead, you have given directions to my steward, and I am informed after the deed is done. Now,” he raised his hand as Darcy started to interrupt. “I appreciate your wisdom and experience, truly I do. Nevertheless, this is my home, not yours. Though I have no doubt I will make many mistakes, I feel I will learn the lessons I need when they come along, so I will improve my decision-making as time goes by.”

  Darcy felt like he had received a strong blow to his gut. Had he been so terrible? Really? His pride in his ability to discern how others he respected viewed him was taking a beating. Surely, he could not be that bad?

  “I beg your pardon, Charles, if I have over-stepped.” Darcy tamped down an anger starting to take root in his heart. He had sacrificed for Bingley, using his valuable time and the Darcy name and reputation to aid the less-experienced man in establishing himself in a much higher level of society than Bingley had been born to. Charles could never have done it on his own. How dare he not realise who, of the two of them, had the superior understanding!

  Darcy was instantly ashamed. Charles Bingley was a good, honest man, who was generous to a fault. Darcy rubbed his hands over his face and again found them trembling.

  “Pray do not think this affects our friendship, my man.” Bingley gave him his typically-present, big smile. “I am ready to let go of your hand and walk on my own. I am no longer in leading strings, and you should be proud your guidance has reached a successful conclusion. At least, I am hoping I will be a success.”

  “I am humbled.” Darcy was proud. Proud of Bingley’s stepping up to accept responsibility and proud of his own response.

  Bingley glanced out of the window on his side of the carriage. When he looked back, Darcy noted the set of his jaw and the intensity of his stare. He suddenly worried what would come from his friend’s mouth.

  “I have decided to pursue Miss Bennet for the purpose of marriage.” Bingley spoke quickly. “I am aware of your disapproval of the family—her next younger sister, Miss Elizabeth, in particular. Nonetheless, my heart is touched in a way I have never felt before. Despite my past of claiming over and over how I was in love with one young lady after another, this feels permanent. I long to spend each moment in her company. I want to have a family with her, grow old with her, and make our house into a home. She means the world to me, Darcy.” Bingley hesitated. “Rather than have your disapprobation, I ask you to step back so I may travel this road on my own.”

  Darcy was dumbfounded. Out of all Bingley said, it was one sentence which stood out. “You think I disapprove of Miss Elizabeth?”

  Bingley snorted. “Of course I do and so does everybody else.
You made your feelings quite obvious when she stayed at my home to care for her sister while she was ill. The poor girl could not sit in the drawing room without you glaring down upon her like she was a bug on the wall you wanted to squash. Each time she opened her mouth, you challenged her opinion in a way that made Caroline smirk at Miss Elizabeth’s discomfort. Yes, there is no doubt you hold the young lady in derision, far more than the rest of my new neighbours.”

  Darcy’s tongue was somehow stuck in the back of his throat, and he feared he would expire on the spot from not being able to catch his breath. Pain filled his chest until he had to press his fist over the most tender area and rub.

  When he finally found his voice, he blurted, “I most certainly do not. Miss Elizabeth is an exemplary young woman. I know few who are her equal.”

  Charles Bingley guffawed. “Oh, you tease. I will never believe it.”

  He was offended. Why should he not believe it? Darcy rarely teased—and never about the character of a gentlewoman.

  Before he could say anything, Bingley continued, happiness radiating from every pore in his body. “The horses are slowing. We must be approaching the inn. I am pleased to be doing so as I barely broke my fast due to the early hour of our departure.” The younger man rubbed his hands together. “Nevertheless, the sooner we get back on the road, the sooner I can take care of business in town and return to pursuing the more important task of establishing a courtship with my fair lady.”

  How could anybody be so happy when he was this miserable? For the first time in his adult life, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Esquire, wanted to whine. Shuddering at the thought, he desperately sought to regain control of his emotions. He knew his reputation amongst his peers. He was steady to his purposes and unaffected by emotions.

  Swallowing, he inhaled deeply and focused his eyes on the carriage wall across from him. By the time the vehicle came to a stop, he had regained his composure and his balance.

  His determination and stalwart demeanor lasted until he walked into the inn and unexpectedly came face to face with his favourite cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  “Richard!”

  “Hello there, Darcy.” Richard slapped him on the shoulder. “You are just in time to buy me a meal. Why are you looking sour?”

  Sour? The question was so reminiscent of Lydia Bennet’s comment that Darcy determined, then and there, he had had enough. Three individuals whom he respected—Miss Elizabeth, Charles Bingley, and his favourite cousin— shared the same negative opinion as to his attitude and character. He was devastated and realised the anger filling his heart was inappropriate. He should be grateful they had exposed clearly how he was viewed by others. It was like he had been looking at himself in a mirror and failed to see he had a piece of green vegetable stuck between his front teeth. He needed to take charge and regain control of his reputation. Within seconds, he discerned exactly how he needed to proceed.

  “Cousin, would you consider me a man of action?”

  He could see that the unexpected enquiry caught the colonel by surprise.

  “I suppose.” Richard tilted his head and continued, “Why do you ask?”

  Darcy ignored him. He turned to his friend. “Bingley, would you consider me to be a man of action?”

  Bingley raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. “Without a doubt, my man.”

  “Good.” Darcy nodded. “As soon as we are refreshed and the horses rested, you will need to retrieve your mount tied to the back of the carriage and proceed to London on your own, Bingley. With your permission, of course, I will be returning to Hertfordshire to settle some unfinished business.”

  Slapping his cousin on the shoulder in the same way he had been greeted, Darcy moved between the tables until he found a vacant spot in the far back corner. He heard the men’s footsteps following behind him. As usual, he was taking the lead. The surly thought needed to be vanquished.

  Seated, he looked about the room. His view of his own importance had been shattered like shards of thin glass. However, he was not a failure. He was a Darcy. He would prevail.

  The relief he felt at impulsively deciding to return to the scene of his greatest humiliation surprised him, though it should not. He had much to prove. Oh, certainly not just to others. He needed to prove to himself that he was fundamentally a good man. And he would start immediately.

  CHAPTER 3

  “I am tired of town, weary of constantly complaining soldiers, angry with inept commanding officers, and sick of pretentious so-called friends who seek me out solely because I am the son of an earl.”

  “I cannot recall ever seeing you this disconsolate, Richard.” Darcy was aware it was his nature to worry over those he loved, and his cousin was his closest friend. He was grateful to have the company for the return trip north. “Are you thinking it is time to sell your commission?”

  “To be honest, I do not know.” Darcy’s cousin rubbed his face with both of his hands. “I will be thirty in less than a year and wonder where my life is headed. Most likely it will be back to France for me. Should my life end in battle, I fear I will have accomplished little.”

  “Richard, you know that is not so,” Darcy reassured him. “You are one of the finest men I know. What has caused this melancholy?”

  “I met a woman.”

  Immediately, Darcy understood his cousin’s confusion. After all, did he not feel the same about Miss Elizabeth? Since the night of the Meryton assembly, he believed his world had turned upside down. When she stayed at Netherfield Park to care for her sister, his entire outlook on the qualities necessary in a wife had undergone such a drastic change that he now wondered at the value of his own intelligence. He had always been staunch in his opinions and goals. Now? He shook his head. Yes, he understood Richard.

  “Tell me about her.”

  The colonel turned his head to stare blankly out of the carriage window.

  “She is nothing like the woman I thought I would ever want by my side.” Richard harrumphed. “In fact, I am still not sure what it was about her that first caught my eye.”

  I know what caught mine. Miss Elizabeth’s eyes. A mental picture of her beautiful, green eyes sparkling with the same radiance as his mother’s emeralds filled Darcy’s mind.

  Richard continued, completely unaware he had lost Darcy’s attention.

  “I met her at a ball Mother had coerced me to attend. The week had been long, and I had much rather have been with the men from my regiment, drinking at one of the local pubs. But, like a good son, I went.” The colonel clasped his hands between his knees and sighed. “She was dancing. Her partner must have said something witty, because her laughter filled the room. It was really quite scandalous as the debutantes have been taught that showing such rich emotions is uncouth. The sound was melodic and I was hooked.”

  “She is from the first circles then?” There would be no impediment. The Fitzwilliams were well-established in society.

  “Not quite.” For a brief moment, Richard’s chin dropped to his chest. Then his shoulders squared and he looked directly at Darcy. “While she is a gentleman’s daughter, their estate is impoverished due to the lackadaisical actions of the father. He is an avid birdwatcher who gives no attention to his home or his family.”

  Darcy was stunned with the similarities. Mr. Bennet was an indifferent parent who appeared to do nothing to check the inappropriate conduct of his younger daughters. Nor did he work to increase the dowry each child would have to offer a single man of interest.

  “Her surname?” Pray do not let it be Bennet.

  “Knowlton. Miss Cecily Knowlton.”

  Darcy expelled the breath he had been unaware he had been holding.

  “This is her third season.”

  “She has had no offers then?” Darcy was curious. Even with her poor financial state, if she was a beauty, eligible men would flock to her side—not unlike Bingley’s attentions to Miss Bennet.

  Richard chuckled. “Oh, she has had plenty.”

  Da
rcy watched as his cousin leaned back on the seat, closing his eyes, a small smile on his face.

  “Her vivacity immediately captured the attention of the ton, and she was looked upon with favour by at least one duke and two viscounts.” His smile grew. “However, she would have none of them.”

  “Smart girl,” Darcy whispered.

  Richard heard. “That is so. You see, she explained to Mother how she would rather remain poor than attach herself for the rest of her days to a man she did not love, admire, and respect. Her saying so became a death sentence to the attachments of most all of the gentlemen who had sought her affections.”