Page 75 of A Different Impression

“At the time, I genuinely believed that was all the explanation necessary because I expected to be back before a proper letter could accomplish anything. I also sent instructions to Aunt Henrietta to close Netherfield. She assumed I had informed the Bennets of my altered plans, whilst I foolishly believed she would explain that I had been detained.”

“Neither of you did,” Darcy said.

“No.” Bingley drew a slow breath. “When I reached Scarborough, I discovered that the situation was far worse than my aunt had allowed herself to put into a letter. Caroline is with child.”

Darcy stared at him.

“She was enceinte before we ever came to Netherfield,” Bingley continued, his voice low. “The gentleman courting her in Scarborough discovered her condition and threatened to expose her publicly. I persuaded him to remain silent, but Caroline refused to name the father of the child or tell me whether he was free to marry her.”

The knowledge that Miss Bingley had attempted to compromise him whilst already carrying another man’s child sent Darcy rising from his chair. He crossed to the window, struggling to contain his disgust.

“Is that why you remained away for five months?” Darcy asked incredulously.

“It was the beginning of it,” Bingley said, hanging his head. “Caroline would not accept that she could no longer resume her former life. She insisted that the matter could somehow be concealed and that she would return to London once it had been resolved. When my aunt and I refused to permit her to travel, she slipped from the house and reached a posting inn before one of the servants found her. She intended to return to London and seek assistance from the man she still refused to name.”

Bingley rubbed a hand over his face. “Several days later, she attempted to rid herself of the child. I shall not describe what she did, but it failed and left her dangerously ill. For more than a week, the physician feared that both Caroline and the babe would die. Even after the immediate danger passed, she was too weak to be moved.”

Darcy’s anger diminished enough to leave room for reluctant sympathy. Bingley had been confronted with circumstances for which neither his temperament nor his experience had prepared him. Nevertheless, those circumstances did not explain five months of silence.

Bingley resumed his explanation. “When Caroline became too ill to be moved, Aunt Henrietta left Netherfield and joined us in the north. Once Caroline recovered sufficiently to travel, I had to find somewhere she would not be known. She could not remain in Scarborough, and I could not bring her to London, so I eventually leased a cottage near Leeds, where she is now living as Mrs Smith, a widow awaiting her confinement. Aunt Henrietta remained with her when I was sent away as the lying-in approached, so I returned to London hoping that you might advise me.”

Darcy turned from the window. “I understand why you remained away. I do not understand why you failed to write. Was there no paper or ink in Scarborough or in Leeds?”

“I attempted it,” Bingley said miserably. “I began letters to you, to Mr Bennet and even to Miss Bennet, although I knew I could not properly write to her without permission. Every explanation seemed either to expose Caroline or require me to lie. I wrote that I had been detained by business, but after reading the words, they sounded deliberately deceptive. I wrote that illness kept me away, but I could not explain whose illness or why it required my presence. I burnt every letter.”

“You did not need to provide particulars,” Darcy said, feeling like he was addressing a child. “You might simply have written that an urgent family matter required your presence and that you could not say when you would return.”

“I know that now,” Bingley said in an almost whine. “At first, I continued to believe I would return within days and explain everything in person. Then Caroline fled, and afterwards she became so ill that I thought neither she nor the child would survive. During those weeks, I thought of little beyond preventing a public scandal and keeping my sister alive.”

Bingley’s shoulders slumped.

“When the danger passed, I had already been silent for more than a month. I was ashamed, and every day I delayed made the next letter more difficult to begin. I kept telling myself that I would write once Caroline was settled and I possessed a complete explanation. It was cowardice, Darcy. The crisis explains why I remained away, but it does not excuse my silence.”

“No, it does not,” Darcy said. “You allowed Miss Bennet to believe that you had left without caring enough to say farewell. You also alarmed your sister. Mrs Hurst wrote to me asking whether I knew where you were, and I was forced to tell her that I did not.”

Bingley closed his eyes briefly. “I have failed Louisa as well. She does not yet know of Caroline’s condition.”

“What do you require from me?” Darcy asked, feeling uncertain what his friend might ask of him.

“I hardly know. Caroline must have an income and a permanent home, and some provision must be made for the child. She believes that once the babe is placed with another family, she may return to London and resume her former life.”

“That will not be possible.” He was absolute about this. He would not allow Miss Bingley in his life ever again.

“I have told her so, as has my aunt, but she refuses to accept it. I must arrange for the funds held for her benefit to provide an independent household. I also need to find a respectable family willing to foster the child if Caroline refuses to keep it.”

“I may be able to assist with the latter once the child is safely delivered,” Darcy said. “But its welfare must take precedence over your sister’s desire to return to society. As for Miss Bingley, or whatever you are calling her, she may live quietly as a widow, but she cannot reappear amongst the first circles.”

“I understand. I am not convinced Caroline does.”

Darcy returned to his chair. “And Miss Bennet? What do you expect from her? You left without a word months ago. Since then, she has had to contend not only with your absence, but with the speculation it caused throughout Meryton.”

“I do not expect anything,” Bingley said sadly. “I hoped she might eventually forgive me, but after last night, I understand how deeply I injured her.”

“She spoke to you again about it?” Darcy asked, having not heard that from his wife.

“To my considerable surprise, she told me so plainly.”

Despite himself, Darcy nearly smiled at the thought of serene Jane Bennet confronting Bingley. “Then you know that you will have to earn her forgiveness.”