Page 44 of Undone

It fit the pattern established by Miss Harwood and Miss Harper. Collins in particular appeared another such circumstance, as though arisen from thin air for the sole purpose of ruining his growing understanding with Elizabeth.

The thought chilled him.

Darcy began to pace, though the room afforded little space for such restless movement. Until that morning he had believed Elizabeth protected by the secrecy of their friendship. No one knew of their meetings. They had met at an early hour, always believing themselves alone.

But had they been?

He had assumed so because he had seen no one.

It was an assumption he could no longer afford.

If Wickham had men in the neighbourhood willing to observe his movements, it would require little effort to learn that Darcy left Netherfield at the same hour each morning. If Collins acted, knowingly or otherwise, in another's interest, who was to say Elizabeth's movements had not likewise been observed?

The fact that both men had turned their attentions towards Elizabeth, Mr. Collins above all, rendered coincidence increasingly difficult to credit. Darcy deemed it safest to proceed upon the assumption that her connexion to him had been discovered. Why else should Collins have appeared only to offer for her with such remarkable haste?

It occurred to Darcy at that moment that another meeting upon Oakham Mount, should Wickham or Collins be observing,would expose them both. Not only could it be contrived into a scandal, it would place Elizabeth at greater risk than himself.

He could not allow it.

He could not, gamble with Elizabeth's safety or reputation.

Darcy sank onto the mattress and spent several hours turning the matter over in his mind until only one course remained.

He needed to leave Hertfordshire as soon as possible.

The conclusion formed with painful ease.

Whether Wickham's and Collins's appearance in Hertfordshire had been no more than fortunate chance or something more deliberate no longer mattered. So long as Darcy remained at Netherfield, he could not dismiss the possibility that his own movements were being observed. If he removed himself from the neighbourhood, Wickham would lose whatever advantage his presence afforded him. Should Collins's proposal have been nothing more than the vanity of a foolish man, nothing would be lost. But if another purpose lay beneath it, Darcy's departure might yet frustrate whatever design had not fully declared itself.

He considered risking one more trip to Oakham Mount on the morrow, if only briefly, to inform Elizabeth of his plan. But knowing Elizabeth as he did, he knew she would not accept so sudden a departure quietly. Worse, a second meeting risked the very thing he meant to prevent. If anyone watched them, one more sighting would suffice to turn suspicion into certainty.

He decided he would write to his cousin instead. If anyone possessed sufficient connexion to watch both Wickham and Collins, it was Fitzwilliam. Even if either discovered he had left the following morning, Wickham, as an officer in the militia, could not simply desert his post. Collins, on the other hand, would be more easily traced should he return to Kent.

He stood and crossed to the writing table, took up a sheet of parchment and a pen.

The thought that Elizabeth would come to Oakham Mount the following morning expecting him, wait, and slowly cease to believe he meant to come at all, haunted him. He had admitted to himself, that very morning, that he loved her. Then, tomorrow, before the day was properly begun, he would be gone and would have left her nothing to believe in.

Darcy pushed the thoughts away, resolved to focus upon his letter and with it a promise to himself to return to Hertfordshire once this mystery was resolved.

Eighteen

Lucas Lodge

15th November, 1811

Elizabeth

Sir William Lucas's birthday ball was everything it usually was. There was food in excess, music from the finest musicians the county could furnish, and distinguished visitors from every sphere of life in Meryton and the neighbouring villages besides. The Bennet family was in attendance entire, including Mr. Collins and even the patriarch, for Mr. Bennet considered Sir William a friend beyond the mere obligation of neighbourliness, and had condescended to leave his library for an evening.

Elizabeth stood somewhat apart from the merriment, her eyes upon Jane, who was engaged in conversation with Mr. Bingley some little distance off. Their happiness ought to have afforded her satisfaction. Instead, she found herself watching them without seeing them at all.

For the past three days she had gone to Oakham Mount, hoping to find Mr. Darcy there, and he had not once shown himself. On the first morning she had supposed him detained at Netherfield. On the second, she had lingered longer than prudence warranted, persuading herself that he might yet appear if she waited only a little while. By the third, she had known before reaching the summit that he would not come, though the certainty had not prevented her from going.

She had tried to account for his absence a dozen different ways. Had seeing Mr. Wickham again in Hertfordshire disturbed him more deeply than he had been willing to admit? She had explained everything that had transpired between herself and Mr. Wickham, and Mr. Darcy, in fairness, had trusted her with the truth of their history. Even so, perhaps the renewed reminder of that unhappy connection had proved more unsettling than he had allowed.

Her thoughts wandered next to Mr. Collins. His proposal, though firmly refused, had left an awkwardness at Longbourn that could not easily be escaped whilst he remained beneath her father's roof. She remembered, too, the change that had come over Mr. Darcy's countenance when she told him of her cousin's proposal. At the time she had scarcely understood it. Now... now she had permitted herself to believe it had been jealousy. Had he since reflected more calmly and concluded she might yet reconsider Mr. Collins's offer? The notion was absurd. She had given Mr. Collins no encouragement before his proposal and less afterwards. Yet once conceived, the thought refused to leave her.

Or perhaps he had simply judged that their morning meetings had ventured further than prudence allowed. They had acknowledged that their meetings could not remain secret forever, yet neither had spoken as though that morning's meeting would be their last. Had Mr. Bingley's reminder of how improper their meetings might appear, were they discovered, weighed more heavily upon him than it had at the time?