Page 18 of Such Low Connections

“Charles!” she protested too late. “My letter!”

“There is no damned letter,” Bingley muttered in response, still poking at the fire, without turning to face Darcy.

“Will someone do me the courtesy of telling me what is going on?” Darcy said with still greater frustration.

Though he suspected he already knew in broader terms.

“Caroline and I will leave you gentlemen to talk,” said Louisa Hurst, taking her sister’s arm. “Come, Caroline.”

As the door clicked closed behind them, Bingley gave a long sigh and then straightened up.

“Well, Bingley?”

At last, his friend turned and met Darcy’s eyes. Darcy had never heard him so angry before, and likely Bingley had surprised himself as much as Darcy or his sisters. Bingley now looked equally shocked and confused by whatever had just occurred.

“Those ugly rumours about your birth have spread across London and are now out across the rest of the country. Louisa received the most vile letter this morning. I cannot bring myself to repeat exactly what Caroline related of its contents. As you saw, I burned the infernal thing, but there will be others circulating around theton, and we cannot burn them all, more’s the pity.”

“There is no way to stop such talk, is there?” Darcy said heavily, joining Bingley at the fireplace and looking into the flames where the offending correspondence was now only ashes among the burning logs.

Bingley shook his head.

“I wish there were, Darcy. If there were anything I could do, you know I would do it. I am sorry.”

“There is nothing you can do,” Darcy confirmed, and briefly laid a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Your standing by me is proof enough of friendship, however. Do not think that I could blame you for any indiscretions of your sisters or their correspondents.”

Unwilling to give up easily, Darcy’s mind began to work, and he paced before the hearth under Bingley’s troubled blue gaze.

“Simple gossip itself cannot be stopped,” Darcy considered, “but such a strange and fast-spreading rumour did not start by itself, did it? It seems to me that someone must have created this nefarious story and then actively spread it about. If I knew who was behind it, I might halt their efforts and publicly expose them as a liar.”

“I am no lawyer, but wouldn’t public action, or even taking someone to court, only spread the rumours further?” Bingley pointed out in an uncertain voice. “If your concern is for your reputation, I do not see what could be done other than to horsewhip the scoundrel, even if you were to track him down.”

“You assume the culprit is a man,” Darcy noted coolly, and Bingley started.

“Don’t you?” he said, rather shocked. “Surely, no lady would…”

“I assume nothing,” answered Darcy. “As to preserving my reputation, given the damage already done, as evidenced by your sister’s letter today, it is likely already too late to entirely avoid publicity.”

“I am so sorry, Darcy,” Bingley said again, looking crestfallen.

“So am I,” Darcy replied.

∞∞∞

“I will be ready for our ride in five minutes,” Darcy called to Bingley from a seat in the hallway, where he had just taken receipt of a letter in his sister’s handwriting. “Georgiana has written back to me.”

“Take as long as you need,” his friend replied with his normal good humour. “I shall be in the library.”

Fearing what wild rumours might reach Georgiana’s ears, Darcy had already written to warn his sister that she was not to believe anything she heard of him that had not come from his own lips. Only sixteen and of a shy disposition, he had been reluctant to tell her anything that might make her anxious, but judged that it would be worse to leave her unprepared.

Now, Darcy unfolded her latest letter with some trepidation. Some of his own concern melted away in the very first paragraph after the usual formalities and well wishes.

You need not fear that I have been caught up in any unpleasant gossip, Brother. Mrs Annesley and I go out very little in London except to concerts, music lessons or the park, and no one we meet talks to us of anything but Mozart, Haydn and Beethoven.

I cannot think what evil anyone could say of you, whom I know to be the best of men as well as the best of brothers, but I doubt that they would choose to say it to me, the fondest and most dutiful of sisters.

In any case, I have been equally forewarned by Cousin Ludlow, who was even more mysterious about it all than you. Ludlow came to call on us in London only this week and told me I was not to listen to any stories about you, although he would not say what or why.

I do miss Colonel Fitzwilliam, Brother, and hope he will soon be safely back from the wars and my guardian again. Ludlow has such a serious expression when he looks at me, and is not half so jolly as his brother. He writes twice as often as Cousin Richard too, and seems to expect replies to every letter, although I cannot think what to say.