Page 6 of Conundrums & Coincidences

Of course! Bingley’s double—that nervous chap I saw at Pemberton & Monroe. How the deuce does he know Elizabeth?

“Ahem.” Mr Monroe raised his voice. “I had planned on addressing this once Miss Kensett arrived, but I want to make something perfectly clear right now. No matter their prior connexion, there will be no collusion permitted between competitors.” He pointedly caught Elizabeth’s eye, then Mr Hadley’s, then Darcy’s. “Is that understood?”

Everyone nodded, including the butler, a liveried footman, two serving girls, and two women Darcy had yet to meet, one in much finer clothing than the other.

And who is that? Darcy watched a gentleman, slightly older than himself, sidle up to Elizabeth. He and Mr Hadley demonstrated a marked interest in her, but whether it was of an adversarial, platonic, or romantic nature—or just Darcy’s own imagination—was debatable. Not that it is any concern of mine, but I shall keep an eye on them nevertheless.

Cheeks overspread with a rosy glow, Elizabeth said something to both gentlemen, then moved in Darcy’s direction, still looking as utterly astonished to see him as he was to see her. Had she read his letter? Would she even acknowledge him?

It immediately became evident her manners were as unaffected and pleasing as ever. She curtseyed and greeted him and smiled so sweetly that Darcy’s poor heart ached. Then she turned to Mr Monroe. “I am curious, sir. I realise we beneficiaries will be rivals and that it would be to one’s disadvantage to assist another. But why is collaboration strictly forbidden?”

The attorney rubbed his temples. Darcy suspected he had a headache. “Really, I should wait for Miss Kensett before delineating the rules.” Consulting his watch, Mr Monroe muttered, “She has less than a quarter of an hour to arrive with any degree of punctuality. But, very well, I shall gratify your curiosity. My client made it indisputable that her house was not to be put up for purchase—which is what Miss Armstrong and I assumed would happen if two or more competitors joined forces and won the tournament.”

He contemplated Elizabeth and Darcy for a moment. “Unless… I suppose… If two beneficiaries were engaged to marry… Young lady, do you and Mr Darcy have an understanding?”

Squaring his shoulders, Darcy spoke up. “Miss Bennet and I do not have an understanding.” As though such a pronouncement was not crystal clear, he added, “We most certainly are not engaged to marry.” She would not have me.

She regarded him with something like regret—not that she had refused him, of course, but that he had just behaved so poorly, and Darcy felt like the worst sort of boor. Bad form, you idiot. Bad form. But what else could he expect on the eleventh?

One of the mature women, the more finely attired one, rushed to Elizabeth’s side and spoke softly while patting her arm.

In Kent, Darcy had been certain he, eventually, would be the one to comfort her and offer succour. Alas, it never was to be. Accustomed to obtaining whatever his heart desired, he still could not understand why such a fate had befallen him. Nor could he imagine how he would make it through the se’nnight in one piece.

After what has passed between us, it will ill suit the feelings of either to remain in the same house. One of us will have to politely make our excuses and depart.

Mr Monroe consulted his watch again and muttered, “Someone is in imminent danger of being eliminated.”

Yes, I deserve that. Darcy hoped eliminated simply meant disqualified and not something more dire. Glancing round the room, he noticed the unfamiliar gentleman smirking while watching the goings-on.

“We shall wait exactly eleven more minutes for the late Miss Kensett.” Releasing an exasperated sigh, the attorney looked heavenwards. “Late I mean as in tardy.” He rubbed a temple again. “Mrs Vincent, more tea, if you please.”

While the other mature woman—the one Darcy assumed was the housekeeper—sprang into action, Mr Monroe turned to Darcy. “Since you are already acquainted with Miss Bennet, allow me to make you known to the rest of our party.”

Subsequently, Darcy was presented to Miss Grace Rigby, the lady who had comforted Elizabeth and was acting as chaperon for the se’nnight. He surmised she was in her fortieth year. Next he was formally introduced to Mr David Hadley and Mr Peter Fordham. Then he met the household servants—being the housekeeper, two maids, and the footman Christopher, who, in addition to his other duties, would provide, along with his brother Alfred, the services of a valet to the gentlemen.

By that time the ladies had crowded round a table and were pouring out the tea. Thinking it advisable to get his apology over and done with as soon and as quietly as possible, Darcy approached Elizabeth. It took exactly eleven steps.

Blocking his way, Miss Rigby moved closer to her and, in a whisper Darcy could not help overhearing, said, “That man will not come and bother you, Miss Bennet, I am determined. You want nothing to do with him, do you?”

Miss Rigby certainly seems to know who is who and what is what. Not to be thwarted in his attempt, Darcy leant round the chaperon and, with commendable respect, begged for a moment of Elizabeth’s time. Likewise leaning to one side, she nodded her acceptance and moved with him so they might, if they spoke quietly, be out of everyone’s earshot.

“Miss Bennet”—I long to hear your name or see your face and no longer care—“I beg forgiveness for the harsh manner in which I responded to an enquiry made to you by Mr Monroe moments ago. It was not only rude but unfeeling, and I truly am sorry for my boorish behaviour. There can be no excuse for it. But, to be honest, your presence here shook my equilibrium.”

“I rather think the butler’s impact did that, Mr Darcy. But, please, think nothing of it. You spoke only the truth.” Her words were kind, but the look in her eyes still spoke of disappointment in his conduct.

She assumes I have not taken any of her words to heart. But he had, and he was trying to better understand how the whole affair had gone so wrong. And he was trying to be a better gentleman. He could not afford to repeat the same mistakes when, if ever, he fell in love again.

Between them, silence stretched taut. The strained tension seemed endless to Darcy, but according to the tick of a nearby pendulum, it had lasted mere seconds. Since Hunsford, days feel like months, weeks like years.

On both sides then, civil enquiries and responses on common subjects were attempted. All the while, what had happened at Hunsford—his marriage proposal, her vehement refusal—loomed over them like a heavy, friction-filled cloud.

Mr Hadley advanced and gave Darcy a dark, thunderous look. “Miss Bennet,” he said, expression gentling and concern evident in his tone, “I could not help noticing… Are you well? May I fetch you another cup of tea? Or a glass of sherry?”

She smiled and thanked him but declined. “Mr Hadley, if it is not meant to remain private, will you tell me about your further association with Miss Armstrong? I assume you visited her here.”

Darcy could not subdue his own curiosity. “If you have no objection, I should like to hear about both of your connexions with her.” And about your own acquaintance. Not that I care a jot.

The three of them were joined by Miss Rigby, and together they sat in a cosy grouping of four leather chairs with Darcy across from the chaperon and Mr Hadley opposite Elizabeth. The younger man then enthusiastically recounted his wild ride through Cheapside and Elizabeth’s rescue of Miss Armstrong.