“I should never have believed this of you,” Bingley said, incredulous.
“He has just now asked to marry me, Charles,” Miss Bingley said softly, tightening the quilt around her as though her dress had been damaged. If it had, it was not by him. Still, Darcy had to admit that she sounded convincing. “We are engaged. I did not think there would be any harm.”
Bingley must know his sister was prevaricating. Darcy shook his head. “That is not true. I have only just arrived, and I was responding to your summons, Bingley, not your sister’s.”
Charles Bingley looked him in the eye. “I never asked you to meet me here, Darcy. I was searching for my sister.” Bingley stepped up to Darcy, who was a good four inches taller. “Shall we make the announcement at supper?”
Darcy met his friend’s gaze and felt as though he were about to cast up his accounts. For he saw there what he had seen before. Deceit. Avarice. Ambition. His eyes almost teared up before he regained control. He had been so certain about Bingley’s friendship. The betrayal hurt. It hurt as badly as though Bingley had run him through. Darcy felt his shoulders droop, and he lifted a tired hand to rub the back of his head.
Had there been more than a single candle lit, the Bingleys might already have noticed Miss Elizabeth who, Darcy believed, was now standing behind them only a few feet away. She might bear witness for him, but Darcy refused to call attention to her or involve her in this sordid business.
He might have succeeded in keeping her out of it entirely had she not cleared her throat. His initial instinct was irritation—can the woman not remain silent even for her own good?
“Mr. Bingley,” she said as she stepped forward into the weak light of the candle, quiet but determined, “Mr. Darcy is not at fault. He would hardly have allowed me to accompany him to a liaison.”
No, then.
Bingley rounded on her, the perfect image of concern and shock. “Was he to meet you here as well, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked. “I am ashamed that the man I counted as a friend has been revealed as a seducer of women. You should return to the ballroom.”
Darcy’s hands had formed into fists. He was ready to strike Bingley for that insult. He swallowed and uncurled his fingers. That was precisely what Bingley would like—to force a scene and draw a crowd. He would not play the man’s game.
Miss Bingley began to weep, though she produced more noise than tears. “He asked me to marry him,” she claimed peevishly, then hiccoughed, “but he said nothing about a mistress.”
He watched Miss Elizabeth blink several times, surprise and offense writ clearly upon her features, and admired how quickly she rallied. “I came, Mr. Bingley, to determine why Mr. Darcy felt it necessary to warn me against a man of our mutual acquaintance,” she declared coolly. “This means that I witnessed the entire scene. Mr. Darcy made Miss Bingley no offer. Indeed, he had not been in the room long enough to do anything of the sort.”
She had vindicated him without identifying their mutual acquaintance. Not for the first time, Darcy appreciated both her delicacy and her intelligence. He was further relieved that he had not taken Bingley completely into his confidence where Wickham was concerned.
“I found the charge shocking, to say the least, and desired some privacy to discuss it,” she continued. “However, Mr. Bingley, I must point out that both doors were open until you closed them.”
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said, a little alarmed to hear how hoarse he had become. He was unlikely to see her again and could not leave her in any doubt about Wickham’s intentions. Nor would he wish to leave her without saying the same about Bingley. “He is a liar.” It would serve for both men.
She turned at the sound of his words, met his gaze, and gave him a small nod. She understood; she was clever. His lips did tug upwards at that, but it was too great an effort to keep them there.
“I apologize, sir, for having disbelieved you at first. I did not fully comprehend your situation.” Her gaze slid to the side, to the Bingleys, then returned to his. “I believe I have a better understanding now.”
Despite Darcy’s misgivings about her involvement, he was grateful to have Miss Elizabeth take his side. He was, however, too miserable to do more than respond to her contrite words with a bow. She dipped a quick curtsy as he opened the door for her, and his eyes followed for a moment as she made her way down the hall to return to the ballroom. Miss Elizabeth’s expression had been both gentle and compassionate, and he tucked the memory away. His heart yearned for hers even though he knew she did not wish for his. It was no matter. Her family, her low connections. He could never make her an offer.
He shut the door again and turned to face his hosts. After Miss Elizabeth’s departure, the room was silent except for Miss Bingley’s insincere weeping.
“Well, Darcy?” Bingley asked, evidently undeterred. “What do you intend to do?”
“I suppose, Bingley,” Darcy responded grimly, “the real question is what you intend to do.”
“We will arrange your marriage to my sister,” Bingley replied, as though it was the only possible outcome.
Darcy shook his head. He had danced this dance before.
“And if I decline?”
Bingley played the outraged brother. “You will meet me. Surely you do not want that sort of scandal, but as Caroline’s brother, I could do no less.”
Darcy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bingley, it is illegal to duel, and I have made no secret of the fact that I will not break the law. We are both aware that this is the only reason you feel safe issuing such a challenge. Even should such an improbable thing come to pass, I am both a better shot and a better swordsman, and I should have my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, as my second. You would stand no chance.”
Bingley appeared poised to argue, and Darcy felt his fatigue deepen.
“Furthermore,” he continued, not allowing Bingley to interrupt, “your family’s acceptance in the ton is largely dependent upon a connection to my own. You should now consider that connection severed.”
He heard Miss Bingley’s horrified gasp and pressed on. “At no time and under no circumstances will I marry against my will.” He fought the tightness in his chest. “I have made this clear to you more than once, but it seems you were not listening. Had you ever really known me, you would understand that in this I am unmovable.” Had you ever truly been my friend.