An Assembly Such as This

and the supper room began to empty in favor of more dancing. Elizabeth arose with the others and made her way to her friend Miss Lucas.

Her respect. He had wanted her respect, her friendship — an oasis of wit and grace in a desert of provincial dullness. He wanted the aliveness he felt in her presence, which flowed through him like fine wine. He wanted those marvelous eyes turned upon him with something deeper than amusement or rivalry. Elizabeth and Miss Lucas drifted out of the room; Darcy’s eyes followed them, a pang forming deep within his chest. The letter in his breast pocket crinkled again as he unwittingly brushed the spot. There would be no winning of Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s good opinion now. What he meant to do, what he must do, for Charles’s sake, would secure her animosity irrevocably.

“Caroline, I beg you not to require my opinion or assistance on anything further tonight.” Bingley addressed his sister after the door closed on the departing Bennet family. “The entire evening was splendid, my dear.” He paused in his compliment as the hall clock struck the half hour. “Is it really two-thirty? Good heavens! Darcy, if we are to be off tomorrow, I must find my bed immediately.” Bingley stopped at the foot of the staircase, unsuccessfully suppressed a yawn, then beamed disarmingly at his sister. “Truly, Caroline, you are to be congratulated. They will be talking of this night for weeks to come. Well done, and good night to you all!” he called to the nearby servants, who yet worked to restore the now empty public rooms to order. “Darcy” — he nodded to his friend — “you will have to help yourself to the brandy tonight. I shan’t be able.”

“To bed, Charles. Should I require it, I know where it is. Tell your man to have you ready by noon or I’ll come for you myself,” Darcy threatened lightly.

“On that dire note, I bid you all a good night” — Bingley shuddered — “except for Darcy, who I hope tosses and turns the night through.”

Darcy grimaced in response to his jest and wondered how accurately Bingley’s wish for him would be fulfilled. That sleep would elude him tonight he did not doubt. The task ahead lay uneasily upon his mind.

“Louisa, you and Mr. Hurst must not wait for me. I have a small duty left to me still this evening.” Miss Bingley smiled wearily to her sister. Darcy saw that Mrs. Hurst appeared too fatigued to question the propriety of her sister staying downstairs with only himself for company, and for once, he was glad of it. His design for separating Bingley from Miss Bennet required a confederate, and in Miss Bingley he knew he would find a most willing one.

“Mr. Darcy.” Miss Bingley turned to him as soon as the Hursts had mounted the stairs. “Charles is still in her toils! I looked for you to speak to him!”

“I am most sorry to disappoint you, Miss Bingley. There was no opportunity that would have answered. I could not very well take him by the collar and shake him like an errant puppy.” Darcy looked down upon her coldly. “And you know how he would take a lecture on this subject, even from me.”

“He will listen to nothing but praise of Miss Bennet.”

“Precisely,” Darcy replied sharply. “But if you are able to follow my instructions, I think we may yet save him from committing a disastrous error.”

“Anything, Mr. Darcy. Anything within my power.”

Darcy’s blood ran cold at her words, so like those Charles had pledged to him only a few days before. What was he doing? Such duplicity as he contemplated was entirely repugnant to his character. He forcefully quelled the wave of unease that rose in his vitals, reminding himself of the fatal nature of his friend’s inclinations.

“Mr. Darcy, what do you want me to do?” Miss Bingley pressed him.

“Wait a few days until after we have left for London. Then dismiss the servants, close up the house, and follow us to Town. But do not let Charles know that you have arrived. When I am satisfied that my plans have borne fruit, I will send you a note. Only then should you make him aware of your arrival. You need only affirm to your brother what I have told him, but in the lightest of tones. Do not bedevil him! Can you do this, Miss Bingley?”

“Y-y-yes, it shall be as you say, Mr. Darcy.” Miss Bingley shivered at the intensity of his manner.

“Very well, Miss Bingley. Then I, too, bid you good night.” He bowed and turned abruptly for the stairs, but paused at the first to fix her once more with his imperious eye. “One more thing. You should send round a letter to Miss Bennet. Tell her that Charles will, in all likelihood, stay in Town and that you have gone to join him. Tell her that none of you will be back to Netherfield before Christmas. Indeed, that you may never return. Say all that is polite, but make the material point very clear. Charles will not be coming back! Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Miss Bingley nodded quickly, her eyes wide. Darcy bowed to her again and continued on his way to his chambers. It was now hard on three in the morning, and each step to his rooms testified to how profoundly exhausted the tensions and emotions of this night had rendered him. The knob of his chamber door turned even as he reached for it, the door quietly swinging open to reveal a gravely silent Fletcher against the illumination of a single candle at the bedstead.

“Mr. Darcy, sir.”

“Fletcher.” He sighed as he sat down. “I did not think a country ball would end so late.”

“Do not concern yourself, sir. I have put the intervening time to good use and packed up all your belongings, sir,” the valet replied as he pulled the emerald stickpin from Darcy’s neckcloth and began to unravel the knot. As he unbuttoned the controversial waistcoat, Darcy peered curiously at the head bent in service.

“All my belongings?”

“Yes, sir…and sent notice to the stable to crate Master Trafalgar for Pemberley. Will you wish to ride Master Nelson on your journey, or shall he be sent down as well, sir?” Fletcher dropped to his knee and carefully removed Darcy’s dancing pumps.

“Send Nelson to Pemberley. Fletcher, you knew I would not be returning?”

His valet looked askance at him. “Of course, Mr. Darcy. Do you still wish to depart at noon, sir?”

Darcy regarded his valet uneasily. “Perhaps you should tell me!”

“Oh, no, sir. That would be quite beforehand of me and worthy of dismissal, although I have heard that Lord ——— is very dependent upon the judgment of his man, who accompanies him, I believe, even to the gaming table.”

“So I have heard as well,” Darcy replied slowly. “Then I shall rephrase it. What time would you suggest, Fletcher?”

“Noon is the latest acceptable time, sir, as that will bring you to Erewile House somewhat late but not excessively so. It also recommends itself by being the earliest possible time that Mr. Bingley’s man may contrive to have him ready. May I remove your coat now, sir?”

Darcy struggled out of his chair, shrugged off the coat and, as Fletcher reached for it, the waistcoat as well. He was certain he heard the man sigh as he laid them both across an upholstered stool. Darcy watched him from under hooded eyes as he unbuttoned his cuffs and those at his throat.

“Noon it shall remain. You cannot be sorry to leave Hertfordshire, Fletcher?”

The valet did not answer immediately as he poured out hot water from the copper kettle kept warm by the fire into the basin on the washstand, but his countenance turned wistful.

“Sorry, sir? London has its pleasures, and Pemberley is the fairest spot on God’s green earth. Hertfordshire? Hertfordshire, I have found, has its own treasures, sir; and what man is not loath to leave behind a treasure?”

“What man indeed?” whispered Darcy, visions of his first sight of Elizabeth that evening arising before his eyes: the comely form, the impudent curls, her flashing eyes, and, later, her troubled brow, chastened voice, and anguished gaze. Darcy closed his eyes wearily.

“Mr. Darcy?”

“The man who knows his duty and, against all natural inclination, performs it. That man, Fletcher, will in the end know no regret.”

“As you say, sir.” Fletcher’s face betrayed no reaction to Darcy’s assertion as he motioned to the basin and the bedclothes lying across the counterpane. “Is there anything more you require tonight, sir?”

“No, no, that will be all. I have kept you up long enough. If I am not stirring by ten, please rouse me.”