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“You make a fine point, Louisa, I am sure. But that is not to say that I must like this situation one little bit, nor does it mean that I should embrace that little chit. Indeed, I shall go out of my way to see that she suffers for persuading our brother to marry her.”

“Oh, Caroline,” Mrs. Hurst cried.

“Do not judge me, Louisa. I will not abide it,” responded Miss Bingley. Voices outside the doorway drew both ladies’ attention, which put an end to the discussion.

Seconds later, Elizabeth walked into the room. The Bingley sisters were the last people she wished to see, but it could not be helped. If she suffered but one degree of disappointment for Jane, it was that she must forever consider those two her sisters.

Clutching the crumpled missive in her hand, Miss Bingley stood abruptly and marched straight to Elizabeth, stopping just inches away. “No doubt you are very proud of yourself.”

“If what you mean to say is I am happy for my sister, you speak correctly. I could not be happier that she is to be married to a decent and honorable man who also happens to be the man she loves.”

“Love!” Miss Bingley screamed. “I declare if I hear one more person utter that word in connection with this travesty, I shall not be responsible for my conduct.”

“I am certain that how you conduct yourself can have no bearing whatsoever on me. I have said it once, and I shall continue to say it so often as I please. I know my sister very well. Nothing but the deepest love would have compelled her to go away with your brother to be married in Scotland.” Elizabeth crossed one arm over the other. “There, I said it. Jane loves him and he loves her. Hate my sister, if you dare. I am certain as the wife of Mr. Charles Bingley she shall have no cause to repine, and the opinion of even those who are so closely connected to him as you cannot lessen their admiration for each other.”

“I suppose you have this all sorted out. No doubt, you have written to all your family congratulating yourselves on what a victory it is to be connected by marriage to a gentleman with five thousand pounds a year.”

“I will not deny that this marriage is a cause for great joy, but you are woefully mistaken if you suppose that your brother’s fortune was an inducement for my sister. How dare you give your own brother so little credit.”

“You know nothing at all about my brother. Neither does your sister, for that matter, for if she did she would know that he tends to fall in love with every young lady whom he meets so long as she has an angelic countenance — the face of an angel — as he always waxes poetically. Your sister may have married him, but if she supposes for one second that she will keep his interest from straying to the next angel who crosses his path, she will be severely disappointed.”

Elizabeth was a bit taken aback by this intelligence. Could Mr. Bingley truly be as fickle as his sister suggested? She did not intend to let her adversary know how much she had been affected by this troubling account.

“Those are grave faults in one’s character, indeed, if they are even true, but as your brother has never actually eloped with any one of the angels that preceded my sister, I have every reason to believe he did not love them. His marrying my sister is all the evidence that I need to trust that what he feels for Jane is beyond comparison to anything he may or may not have felt for anyone in the past.”

Elizabeth grew quite weary of arguing the matter with Miss Bingley. In her mind, Jane’s situation was settled. Nothing would come from dwelling on it, especially considering what was likely transpiring upstairs with the Darcys.

Her mind in a tumult, she turned and headed out the parlor door, nearly bowling over Mr. Bingley’s brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, in the process. “Oh, get out of my way!” she shouted.

Well on her way, Elizabeth heard him ask, “Heavens! What on Earth was that about?”

Thinking she ought not to have taken out her frustrations on the poor gentleman, she thought to turn and offer some sort of apology. Changing her mind, she covered her face with both hands for a second or two to calm herself and then moved hastily toward the doorway leading outside the manor house.

Time and distance away from her sister’s future in-laws were what she needed most. Nothing but a brisk walk around the park would do for she needed to think. Not only would she need to provide comfort to the Darcys in any way she could, but there was also the matter of comforting her dear father. How different things had turned out during their stay in Derbyshire. Indeed, Mr. Bennet was gaining a son-in-law, but he was also losing a dear old friend.

CHAPTER 23

FINAL MOMENTS

Often spoken words of praise now seemed quite daunting: “He is the best landlord and the best master. There is not one of his tenants or servants but will give him a good name.”

Such were the sentiments Darcy had heard being ascribed to his father for as long as he could recall.

I must endeavor to step into my father’s role in a manner that would make him proud. I believe I am ready. I have been preparing for this my entire life, and in the face of it all, my greatest wish is to have more time with my father.

Darcy pushed open the door to his father’s room. The dimly lit room, the somber air, his father’s life slipping away, and in the midst of it all sat George Wickham, clutching the dying man’s hand.

“Leave us,” Darcy said. His commanding voice prompted his father to open his eyes.

Hesitating, Wickham threw his godfather an inquiring look. The older man nodded, albeit nearly imperceptibly.

“I shall return in a little while. Now you must do your part by promising me you will be here when I return.” Squeezing his godfather’s hand, Wickham gradually lowered it to the bed. He stood and prepared to quit the room. “You cannot keep me from him,” he said to Darcy on the way to the door.

Darcy had no intention to do so. He knew how much his father cared for the man. His understanding of the matter did not mean he planned to share what might prove to be his father’s last hours with someone whom he detested so much as he detested his former friend.

When Wickham was gone, Darcy went to his father’s bedside. “I have spoken with Georgiana,” he began, “and she is on her way to see you. She will be here shortly.” Taking his father by the hand, Darcy sat in one of the two chairs by the bed. His eyes flooded with unshed tears, he leaned forward and clutched his father’s hand to his chest.

“You have known for some time that which I tried to hide.”