by J Dawn King
“Papa, I learned yesterday that Mr. Darcy is an honorable man.” At that, Darcy’s hands came up and covered hers. She could see every emotion he was feeling in his eyes. “His words at the assembly were uttered before we met. For reasons I now understand, he was ill-prepared to be in company that evening. I have forgiven him those words and hope you will do the same.”
When her father said nothing, she continued. “Mr. Darcy is a man who is responsible for much. He is well-read and knows the world in a way that I would like to learn from him. He puts the care and protection of those he loves, such as his sister, before his own desires and ease.” She looked back at her father. “How could I not admire this man, Papa?”
She heard Darcy’s exhale and felt him relax beneath her hand. His eyes were liquid pools that looked down upon her with a depth of emotion that it fairly took the breath from her.
“But, Lizzy.” Her father was stunned that his daughter was acting so affectionately towards the man. It was highly improper, yet it showed him more than words that his Lizzy was lost to him. “I see.”
“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet cleared his throat. “I ask you, as a father who values the young woman before you more than life itself, why you think you deserve to have her in your home?”
It was an unexpected question that went to the root of the matter. Elizabeth wondered how Darcy would respond. She watched as he finally looked to the man seated behind the desk, his gaze piercing.
“I do not deserve her, sir.” Darcy’s eyelids flickered. He recognized the import of this conversation. “My wealth and position mean nothing to your daughter. She is the only woman of my acquaintance who has entirely disregarded what I have to offer financially.”
Elizabeth knew without looking that her father would be proud knowing that of her.
“I was raised with good principles, Mr. Bennet, but was allowed to be selfish in my outlook towards others.” He briefly paused, as if trying to locate the words he needed from some far-off place. “It has been humbling to find I had nothing to attract your daughter. Nothing! The more time I spent in her company, the more I realized her value. My own worth, however, plummeted with each interaction.”
Elizabeth could feel him squeezing the hand that still rested under his.
“Sir, I do believe we have every reason to hope for a good outcome. I am resolved to earn her respect and eventually her love. It is my most important task.” He smiled down at the woman so close in front of him. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet is worthy of my esteem. She alone holds my heart in her small hands. I fully entrust it to her and will give it to no other.”
Tears gathered in Elizabeth’s eyes at his beautiful words. They were tenderly spoken and held power. Stepping closer, no longer remembering her own father was in the room, she wrapped her arms around Darcy’s waist and laid her cheek where her hand had just been. The steady beat of his heart was a welcome rhythm as she closed her eyes and thought deeply on his expressions.
“Fitzwilliam.” She sighed.
Mr. Bennet knew his Lizzy to be a young woman of strong passions. Until this moment, they had been channeled to learning all she could of the world. As a father, his greatest pleasure had been guiding her and helping her along. To see the young couple thus, flagrantly flaunting every rule of propriety to find comfort in each other’s arms, spoke of a devotion unknown to him that portended their future happiness.
“I give you my blessing. You may wed in two months’ time.” What else was a father to do?
Chapter Five
Elizabeth exhaled in relief. She loved her Papa and hated that there might be resentment between the two most important men in her life. When had Mr. Darcy become elevated in her mind and heart?
“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet began. “What are your plans, sir?”
Elizabeth stepped back from Darcy, remembering her father was watching them and would not appreciate their close proximity. She smiled to herself as Darcy seemed to struggle to tear his eyes away from hers. Elizabeth could see that he had relaxed his pose and realized she was not the only one who felt relief at her father’s words.
Darcy glanced at the man seated behind the desk. Mr. Bennet was of middle age, with a thick head of graying hair. His eyes were expressive—loving when he looked at Elizabeth, but flint-like when they turned upon him. It crossed Darcy’s mind that he would feel just as protective of his daughter if she were in this situation. Darcy knew he felt that way about his sister’s future prospects. He would be just as firm.
“Mr. Bennet, it had been my plan to leave for London early tomorrow to purchase a special license and arrange for the marriage settlement to be prepared. Since you have given, not only your permission but now also your blessing, we can forego the license and have the banns posted here at Longbourn chapel, should you agree.” At Mr. Bennet’s nod, he continued. “I shall stop here on my way north from London and would appreciate a moment of your time to review the arrangements I have made for Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth saw her father start at Darcy’s use of her name in such a familiar way. While she hated to be a disappointment or a cause of pain to her father, her future was now irrevocably tied to the man alongside her. She looked up at her betrothed to find his gaze solidly fixed upon her. She saw the question in his eyes and realized he was uncertain as to her desire to be in his company. His returning to Meryton, even briefly would be greatly appreciated.
“I will look forward to your return.” Elizabeth whispered.
Without removing her eyes from her intended’s, Elizabeth spoke to her father. “Papa, with your permission, as an engaged couple, would you allow us to correspond during the duration of his time away from me?”
“I would.” Both Darcy and Elizabeth smiled at his response. “I would appreciate it as well, Mr. Darcy if you would call me either Thomas or Bennet as I am known to my friends. We will be welcoming you to our family in so short a time that we want all who observe our conversations to believe we will get along as well as most families do.”
Under normal circumstances, Elizabeth, found pleasure in her father’s sarcastic wit. Today, it stabbed at her heart as she thought of how it would sound to Darcy. He appeared undaunted. As the men continued their conversation, Elizabeth quickly became aware of two facts. The first, was how well the two gentlemen were getting on after their initial outrage with each other. Secondly, many decisions were being made about her future and she had yet to be asked her opinion. It was as if both men were caught up in a power struggle over who had the most right and authority over her. To the smallest detail they were moving ahead.
Elizabeth had noticed Darcy’s propensity to issue orders and his expectations of immediate obedience. It was exasperating her more and more the longer she listened to the two men.
Thomas Bennet had known since her infancy that Elizabeth did not like to be told what to do. It often took little explanation to adjust her thinking or move her to action. When pushed, obedience came first, but an explanation always quickly followed.
The thought that Darcy expected to control her was abhorrent to Elizabeth. It was not a future she could look to with pleasure. Though she had learned much about him over the past four and twenty hours, Elizabeth realized that she knew very little about the man. While at Netherfield Park, she learned that he took his matters of business seriously. He also displayed loyalty to his close friend, Mr. Bingley. Darcy did not welcome the attentions of Miss Bingley, not flirting or including her in private conversations. What she did not know was how he went about making business decisions and what motivated him in his choice of friends. The more thought she gave to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the more her anger started to simmer.
“Elizabeth!”
“Lizzy!”
The men’s voices interrupted her thoughts. Suddenly, she became aware that the men had stopped their conversation and both were looking at her in question.
“Pray, forgive me. My mind wandered.” She looked to her father, not wanting to face the man she was up
set with. “How may I be of service?”
Mr. Bennet was easily able to read the expressions that had crossed his daughter’s face. He knew she was worked up over something; what it was, he could not tell.
“Darcy and I were discussing your wedding clothes. We are attempting to decide whether the fabric and lace could be procured in Meryton or would require travel to London.”
“Lace?” Elizabeth was horrified. She could not keep her voice from rising and felt the flush of red creeping up her neck. “You gentlemen were discussing lace?”
Darcy was puzzled. He had thought Elizabeth would be grateful when so many of the wedding arrangements could be made without the interference of Mrs. Bennet. It was no hardship to imagine Elizabeth’s mother’s fluttering about, unable to come to any firm decisions. He thought to save his betrothed unnecessary anxiety.
He could hear her breath hissing in and out between her clenched teeth. When her hands moved to her hips, he recognized a stance his mother had used when he had done something wrong as a child. Certainly, it was not him who erred! Poor Mr. Bennet. It looked as if he was in for a tongue-lashing. His relief that her anger was not directed at him was temporary.
“Pray, help me to understand.” Elizabeth glared first at her father and then her husband-to-be. “You were discussing my trousseau for what purpose?”
Darcy pulled at his collar, which had quickly tightened to the point of discomfort. When Elizabeth did not break eye contact with him, he swallowed, trying to buy time. If he was completely honest with her there was a great risk she would be angered at his assumptions he had made about her mother. It was her mother, after all. If he was less than honest, he had a strong feeling she would find out somehow and her ire would grow exponentially. His own honor would not allow anything other than the truth. However, before he could speak, Mr. Bennet did.
“Lizzy, why are you upset?” She could see that her father was truly puzzled. “Darcy and I were endeavoring to make your way easier.” He shrugged as he finished. Resigned.
“I will tell you, Father.” She looked to both men, completely frustrated. “Mr. Darcy will be gone from Hertfordshire for at least the next four weeks. During that time, I will have plenty of opportunity to plan the wedding of my dreams. I will hire a white carriage with four white horses, have a gown spun of golden thread, and find a traveling band of gypsies to play lutes and drums as I walk down the aisle. I will have eight ladies-in-waiting with six young girls walking ahead of us carrying baskets filled with pink rose petals to scatter in front of me. I will arrive at the chapel on the back of a silver unicorn with a bridle made of sunbeams. We will serve the fattest hens, the plumpest fish, and the ripest fruits at my wedding breakfast and when it is over, I will dance until my shoes are merely threads and I have imbibed freely of champagne to the point that I completely forget that I will be Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy for the rest of my life.”
The looks of horror were plain on both their faces until they were able to absorb her words. Mr. Bennet realized his daughter was making a point–letting them know they had overstepped. Darcy had no such understanding. He could not discern whether she was serious about these fanciful plans. A white carriage and horses could most likely be procured for a large sum of money—which he had. The rest of the items were beyond his ability to obtain. Surely, she was not serious?
When neither man spoke, Elizabeth bobbed a curtsey and walked out of the room, closing the door with firmness. Marching up the stairway to her bed chamber, she closed that door as well with a resounding thud.
Darcy stood in front of Bennet’s desk, stunned. What had just happened? Where had those wonderful qualities gone that he had been attracted to? Reasonableness? Intelligence? He shook his head as if that action would clear the fog that had crept into his brain during Elizabeth’s tirade. It served to make nothing clear. He was surprised when Bennet started to chuckle.
“Darcy, my man.” Bennet slapped his knees and rose from his chair. “I believe we have earned a bit of brandy for surviving that assault.”
He poured a small amount into two glasses. Darcy drank with appreciation of the quality of the liquid. French!
“You might as well as run along, Darcy. I sincerely doubt my daughter will show her face until she settles down, which might take a while.” Bennet patted him on the shoulder as he came alongside him. “We were put in our place, were we not? Lizzy is right. We had no business involving ourselves into what are traditionally the responsibilities of the ladies of the household.”
Darcy finished his drink. He hesitated to ask what was on his mind. Nonetheless, he felt he had to know. “Do you believe she was serious about the horses and carriage? Is that something I should look for while I am in town?”
Bennet slapped him again on the shoulder and laughed aloud. “Son, you have a lot to learn about women. A lot to learn.”
Darcy, indeed, left Longbourn without seeing Elizabeth. He was surprised at his level of disappointment. Before he climbed into his carriage, he looked up to the floors above in the hopes of catching a glimpse of his betrothed in one of the windows. Again, he was disappointed. Tapping the roof of the coach, it slowly pulled away from the Bennet estate. Darcy wondered what he could do to heal the breech that his clumsy attempts to help Elizabeth had caused. He could think of nothing. He certainly would not ask Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst. For the first time in a long time he wished his mother were seated across from him. He needed her wisdom and her care. It was not to be, no matter how hard he wished it. Blowing out a puff of air, the carriage pulled onto the main street of Meryton on its way to Netherfield Park.
Darcy was lost in his thoughts and did not see the man standing in the doorway of the pub. George Wickham recognized the Darcy crest and wondered what his old friend and nemesis was doing in Hertfordshire and who he had been visiting at Longbourn village. Wickham decided it was the course of wisdom to find out.
Chapter Six
George Wickham could not remember a time in his life when he was not coveting what Darcy had. Growing up at Pemberley, he looked on from the outside as Darcy was praised and petted by a devoted father. Anything he wanted was given him. At least, that was how it seemed to Wickham. What George Wickham chose to overlook were the many tasks young Darcy had responsibility for; the high standards he had to strive to reach.
Mr. Darcy, Fitzwilliam’s father, had encouraged friendship between the two boys as they were the same age. He felt George’s outgoing personality would help his quiet son to be less reticent. It was during the early adolescent years when Wickham began to feel the disparity between their stations. Wickham was the son of Pemberley’s steward. Darcy was the heir. Wickham had a comfortable life. Darcy’s life was luxurious in comparison. Actually, it was luxurious in comparison to that of the majority of the population in all of England.
“Why are you looking so hard at that coach, Lieutenant?” Mr. Denny had been acquainted with Wickham for fewer than two days. He recognized the newest enlisted officer had charm and decided almost immediately upon introduction to attach himself to him. Mr. Denny was the second son of an impoverished baronet. He had chosen the military to support himself. He was not a handsome man who attracted the female sex. With the confidence Lt. Wickham oozed, the opportunity of an improved social life in this small town had increased substantially for the gentleman.
Wickham looked at the small man beside him. “It is nothing important, sir. I thought I might be acquainted with the owner of the coach. However, I believe I must be mistaken. No matter.”
In the two days since arriving in Meryton, Wickham had scouted for opportunities to indulge his habits. Denny was a good man, though gullible. He was easily led; the perfect friend and companion. He usually had some of the ready in his pockets, which Wickham noticed he used eagerly to keep his friends by his side. Yes, a perfect ally.
The men stepped into the pub where a game of cards, some cold ale, and a willing woman could be had for a price. Wickham had no money, but Denny did.
It was while they were inside the tavern when Wickham realized he had a treasure ripe for the plucking within his reach.
“You are lucky at cards, Denny.” Wickham knew the course of wisdom was to allow his target to win a few hands before he was fleeced. “How will you be spending your winnings in this fine village?”
“There are many lovely ladies in the neighborhood that always appreciate a piece of ribbon or lace.” Denny’s mind flashed to the two youngest of the daughters of Mr. Bennet. “Why, Longbourn alone has Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, Miss Kitty, and Miss Lydia.” He was proud of himself for remembering their names.
“Five daughters, you say?” Wickham was pleased.
“Yes, Lt. Wickham, all of them uncommonly pretty. Though it is said the eldest daughter, Miss Bennet, has recently become attached to the fellow leasing Netherfield Park—a Mr. Bingley.” Captain Carter, Denny’s closest friend was already well into his cups.
“They say Miss Elizabeth was gravely insulted by that so-called friend of Mr. Bingley. Darcy is his name.” Disgust riddled the voice of the third man at the card table. “Miss Elizabeth is a favorite here in this town. Mr. Darcy had best watch himself. We do not take kindly to speaking poorly of our gentlefolk.”
The speaker was a local man who, like Captain Carter, had been imbibing for a long while. Immediately Wickham decided to draw out as much information as possible. Darcy had been brought up a gentleman. For him to insult a lady, even a fortune-hunting, single lady, implied that some of the famed Darcy control had slipped. Wickham was determined to know its cause so he could use it to his advantage.