Page 47 of Master of Himself

“You seem a bit…overwrought, Mr Bingley, or perhaps you are being morose again.”

“I am somewhat agitated, but—”

How easy it would be to tell her that he was really Fitzwilliam Darcy, but convincing her was entirely another matter. Who would believe such an improbable tale? Thunder and lightning and transformations – it was too much to ask of her. Even the most imaginative lady would believe he was inventing a fanciful story to gain her sympathy.

“How suddenly you rode off yesterday,” she said.

He stopped pacing at this comment. When she gazed at him in anticipation, he continued, thankful for her astute observation. “Yes, that is precisely what I wanted to explain. I have no right to burden you with such a delicate matter, but I should never forgive myself if you came to harm. I must—you must—” He groaned and resumed pacing. Why is it so difficult to find the right words?

She sat on a fallen tree and turned her gaze to him. “I’m perfectly ready to hear whatever you wish to tell me, Mr Bingley.”

Darcy took a deep breath to settle his nerves. “A young acquaintance of mine, a schoolgirl, was recently persuaded to elope to the border with a fortune hunter.”

Her eyes flew open in alarm.

“Her guardian was able to prevent it, so except for a broken heart, she was uninjured. Since the man has squandered his entire inheritance, he had no other choice but to enlist in the militia.”

She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut.

Although he suspected she had guessed correctly, he refused to leave any doubt. “That man is Mr Wickham.”

When she released a beleaguered sigh, he continued, “Since he paid particular attention to you yesterday, I’m obliged to warn you about him.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr Bingley. Your friend must have been devastated.”

Recalling that terrible ride home from Ramsgate, he nodded. “She learned a difficult lesson about charming young men. I would urge you not to be taken in by him.”

Her troubled brow and trembling lips assured him that he had adequately warned her of the dangers.

“I must not linger, but beg you to be on your guard.”

She rose. “Thank you for confiding in me, Mr Bingley.”

He reached for her hand and bowed over it. “I hope you know that if you are ever in need of assistance, I’m at your service.” He released her, then quickly added, “Darcy and I both.”

Blushing brightly, she thanked him for his kindness and took her leave. He watched her walk away and wondered if he had said too much. He had no desire to endanger Georgiana’s reputation, but since Wickham had the effrontery to appear in polite society, Elizabeth must not fall prey to his treacherous charm.

Before she disappeared from sight, she turned to wave farewell. With a heavy heart, he retrieved Shadow and mounted.

As he rode back to Netherfield, he wished he could have divulged everything to her, not just about Wickham, but also about his current dilemma. How wonderful it would be to have an ally through these difficulties. Someone intelligent and compassionate, who might offer sound advice.

But no, he couldn’t burden her with an insurmountable problem. He and Charles must find their own way back to their true selves.

Struck by the irony of his situation, he couldn’t help wondering if he was no better than Wickham. Just as his former friend had done, Darcy had assumed a false persona to survive in the world. George had changed from a steward’s son to a university man, then to a man about town, succumbing to every pleasure and vice, and now a militia man on a paltry stipend. However, Darcy, a gentleman’s son and grandson of an earl, was now masquerading as a tradesman’s son and master of a leased property. They had both suffered a fall from grace with no discernible solutions.

However, despite Darcy’s present uncertain circumstances, his excellent father had taught him to conduct himself as an honourable gentleman, and he would always follow his sire’s example. Although Wickham had received the same guidance, he had chosen to follow a dark path and embrace the unseemly side of life. For all his pretences, he would always be known as the scourge of Derbyshire.

***

Breakfast was much the same as every previous day; Caroline peppered Charles with questions and made frequent references to her dearest friends in town. Today, however, Charles assumed a disgruntled scowl and begged, with perfect indifference, to be allowed to eat his meal in peace. He even requested a second cup of coffee.

Afterwards, his family returned to their chambers, and Darcy suggested a walk outdoors. Supposing that he had urgent matters to discuss away from the house, Charles agreed.

“I saw Elizabeth this morning and advised her about Wickham’s attempted elopement,” Darcy said with a grave mien as they approached the brook. “Rather than mentioning Georgiana’s name, I referred to her as a friend. I know it was risky, but I couldn’t allow Elizabeth to succumb to Wickham’s charms.”

Although Charles couldn’t like that Darcy had gone off to Longbourn a second time without him, he could raise no reasonable complaint, especially since his friend had warned Caroline and Louisa about the blackguard. “No, indeed, she must know of the dangers. Do you suppose she will advise her sisters?” he inquired, thinking of sweet Jane.

Darcy nodded. “I certainly hope so. None of the Bennet sisters should give him a moment of their time.”