by P. O. Dixon
“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.”
A teardrop escaped and trailed down his face. Darcy nodded.
“Thank you for arranging a reunion with my friend, Bennet. What better gift is there than the companionship of one’s oldest, fondest acquaintance? You have made me proud.”
His suffering painfully evident, he said, “I have lived a long and fruitful life. I have been blessed with everything the heart of mortal man can desire. Do not mourn overlong for me, my son.”
As though unable to summon the words that deep down inside, he wanted most to say, Darcy said nothing.
“You are a good son,” the older man said. “You shall be an excellent master.” His voice growing weaker with each word, he struggled through. “I know you will take prodigious care of your sister, and when the time comes, you will be a faithful husband and a devoted father.” He endeavored to sit up, mostly in vain.
“There is but one thing about which I am rather less certain.”
“What is it, Father?”
“My godson, George. Do not forsake him.”
Darcy lowered his father’s hand and commenced fussing with the bedclothes as a means of comforting him. “Please, Father, do not exert yourself.”
“But, I must—while there is still time.” His voice grew weaker. “Son, I know you and I have rarely agreed on matters where George is concerned. I am asking you to do this for me.”
Before Darcy could utter a response, the door flew open and in rushed Georgiana, her eyes full of tears, and just in time to embrace her father and tell him how dearly she loved him, all on the cusp of his final moments on Earth.
Chapter 24
Future Happiness
The unpleasant encounter with Charles Bingley’s sisters weighed heavily on Elizabeth’s mind.
Is this what my sister Jane is to expect? Jane who never thinks meanly of anyone.
At one time, it had appeared that the Bingley sisters, who no doubt had no use for Elizabeth, actually liked Jane. Alas, it was mere pretense, especially on Miss Bingley’s part and perhaps on Mrs. Hurst’s part as well.
Elizabeth could not fully gauge the latter’s real opinion on her brother’s marriage as she had not spoken a word during the altercation. How the two sisters could be so insensitive to what was taking place in the household, Elizabeth could not even fathom.
Perhaps, they are completely unaware of the elder Mr. Darcy’s condition.
Despite all of Miss Bingley’s boasting of enjoying such an intimate relationship with Fitzwilliam Darcy, Elizabeth always knew better.
He would have no reason to confide in the young woman. I suspect that had I not come across him in the library when I did and pressed him on his altered attitude, he would not have confided in me either.
The inevitability of losing a parent — the helpless feeling that accompanies the certain knowledge that it’s beyond one’s power to prevent — I cannot imagine how that must feel.
She wrapped her arms around her shoulders. The refreshing outdoor air was such a balm for Elizabeth’s overwrought sensibilities, but each step further away from the manor house caused her to wonder if it would be better if she went back, perhaps to the library where her father may have returned from his bedside vigil.
Jane had written that she came to Pemberley unsure of what she was about, and she had taken her leave knowing she was fulfilling her destiny. Everything happens for a reason, Elizabeth surmised, and she began to wonder if the true reason for their being there at Pemberley was so that her father might share with his old friend Mr. Darcy what were destined to be his final days.
Did his son plan it this way? Was this a grand scheme on his part — a final act of devotion to his beloved father?
She did not know what to think or how to feel if such were the case, but one thing was certain: she could not be angry with the gentleman should her suspicion prove correct. She was certain that her father was better for the experience. Although still a bit reclusive, she had observed that when he and his friend were together, her papa had always been particularly animated, as though he had recaptured some of the vigor and optimism of his younger days.
The thought that her father had yet to be told of Jane’s elopement and the possibility that he might not react to the news as favorably as she herself had then dawned on Elizabeth.
Heaven forbid that he should learn of it from that horrid Miss Bingley.
This thought was sufficient encouragement to redirect Elizabeth’s footsteps immediately in the direction of the manor house. A steady pace grew more and more urgent as a single thought mixed with dread consumed her. I must speak with my papa.
She arrived at the library and saw her father was walking about the room, his hands clutched behind his back, looking grave and anxious. “Lizzy,” said he, “I have been wondering where you were. Come, my child for we have much to discuss. Your sister—”
Feeling as though a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders, Elizabeth interrupted, “—So, you have heard the news about Jane and Mr. Bingley. Forgive me, for she wanted me to be the one to tell you.”
His countenance clouded, he responded, “Tell me what, my dear?”
Elizabeth drew a quick breath. “Oh! I thought you already knew. You see, Papa, Jane has eloped—she and Mr. Bingley are to be married.”
Mr. Bennet ran his hand across his silvery beard. “This is an interesting turn of events. Indeed, a happy outcome. Although, I cannot pretend to be completely surprised the two fancy themselves in love, for not only have I seen the way that young man looks at Jane, I have seen the way Jane looks at him.”
“Regardless of how this may appear in the eyes of society, I am exceedingly happy for my sister and Mr. Bingley. I only regret not being so attuned to what was unfolding between them. I, who fancy myself such an astute studier of others, do not know how I shall ever forgive myself for being so obtuse,” Elizabeth said.
“There now, do not be so severe toward yourself,” he began, “some things a father knows best what his own child is about.”
“But Jane is my dearest sister,” Elizabeth cried. “I have always prided myself on knowing her better than anyone. It is as though I wished so deeply that she and Mr. Darcy were designed for each other that I would allow for no other possibility for my sister’s future happiness.”
“Ah, young Mr. Darcy. One only needed to have observed him the instant he rounded the corner on the heels of our arrival at Pemberley all those weeks ago to know that my beautiful Jane never stood a chance of winning his heart.”
“I, too, have been informed on more than one occasion that his heart would not easily be touched. I suppose I simply chose not to believe it, thinking surely if anyone stood a chance it would be Jane.”
“Did you indeed, my dear?”
Not knowing what to say in response to her father’s retort or even how to feel, Elizabeth sought to change the subject to the other pressing matter of the day. Her voice a bit unsteady, she said, “Papa, how is your dear friend, Mr. Darcy? Is he—”
“I fear the end is near,” he said, his tone sob
er. Taking his daughter by the hand, Mr. Bennet said, “His children are by his bedside as we speak.”
Chapter 25
Repeated Assurances
Elizabeth, feeling all the helplessness of her situation, likened being at Pemberley during the Darcys’ darkest days to being a stranger amidst a gathering of long lost friends as people came from miles and miles apart to pay their final respects to the late Mr. George Darcy and offer their condolences to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pemberley’s new master, and Miss Darcy.
There had been little to no time for her to be in company with either of the two that did not also find them in the company of others directly connected to them who were thus in a far better position to offer the comfort and solace the grieving siblings needed. The Earl of Matlock and his wife, Lord Edward Fitzwilliam and Lady Ellen Fitzwilliam, oversaw whatever needed to be done to relieve their nephew’s burden during what was such a low point in his young life. Also, the colonel returned.
He was deeply affected by his uncle’s passing, of that, there could be no doubt. He likened the elder Mr. Darcy to a father and Pemberley to his second home. Through it all, he remained the upstanding gentleman whom she had grown rather fond of, doing all he could to attend the Darcys as well as their guests during this their greatest hours of need.
If it were not for Colonel Fitzwilliam’s repeated assurances of the appropriateness of the Bennets presence, Elizabeth would have been entirely persuaded that she ought not to be at Pemberley. As much as she wished otherwise, she rarely saw its new master away from others.
Having received a letter from Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bingley, it was decided that Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet would remain at Pemberley long enough to see the newlyweds upon their return, anticipating the possibility of traveling to Hertfordshire together.
Even Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who despite her grief, bore a confidence such that Elizabeth had never detected in her before as though her brother-in-law’s death had elevated her power over her grieving nephew and niece, could find no fault with the Bennets’ remaining there.
* * *
As for the Bingley party’s continuing presence at Pemberley, her ladyship’s tolerance for their failure to take their leave was strained at best as evidenced by the unmasked look of disdain that graced her countenance whenever she was forced to be in either of the Bingley sisters’ company. Having learned of the elopement in response to her inquiry on the whereabouts of Charles Bingley and why was he away from Pemberley at such a time when all his family remained, the grand lady did not know whether to be pleased or astounded — pleased because Miss Bennet’s marriage to that gentleman meant one less obstacle in her desire for an alliance between her nephew Darcy and her daughter, Anne or astounded because an elopement, even one that furthered her own purposes, was one of the surest means of attracting scandal, gossip, and innuendo.
No doubt, her ladyship was certain that if either of the three developments were not already underway, by the time she had done her part, they surely would be.
She never did like the idea of her nephew, a descendant of royalty, associating with the likes of the Bingleys. They were nothing to her nephew—nothing at all. Surely such a betrayal by Charles Bingley would be the means of severing all ties with her nephew Darcy forever.
How blessed I am to witness the end of his distasteful alliance with two undeserving families in one fell swoop and with so little trouble to myself.
Lady Catherine could not be more pleased. In time, she would press upon her nephew the urgency of marrying her daughter; as the new master of Pemberley, he owed it to himself—to his family to beget Pemberley’s next heir. But she would allow a respectful period of mourning to pass before putting a plan into action.
Indeed, she considered, pursing her lips, I shall know precisely when the time is right, and then I will carry my point.
Chapter 26
Casual Acquaintances
One moment, Wickham was hurrying to the billiards room and the next he found himself standing in the room across the hall, face to face with a very irate Miss Bingley.
“Why have you failed to uphold your end of our bargain?”
“I beg your pardon?” Wickham responded after freeing his arm from the young lady’s grip.
She folded one arm over the other. “Did you and I not agree that you would do everything in your power to keep Eliza Bennet from throwing herself in Mr. Darcy’s path?”
“I believe I said I would only do so if sufficiently compensated for my efforts. You have failed to uphold your part of the bargain.”
“I cannot possibly secure the necessary funds while here in Derbyshire. I shall arrange payment for your services upon my return to London.”
His brow arched, he said, “In other words, I should trust you.”
“My word is as good as gold.”
“That may very well be, but I think I shall require something more valuable,” he replied, his eyes fixed on the lady’s décolletage.
“Surely you do not expect me to bestow certain liberties, for I absolutely will not consider it,” she protested.
He smiled a little at such a prospect. He had known many young women who were wont to put forth similar protests, most to no avail when he truly meant to press his point. In this case, he did not.
“You flatter yourself, my dear. I have something far more tangible in mind—this lovely bauble for instance,” Wickham said while fingering the teardrop emerald attached to a strand of pearls draped about her neck. “Indeed, this will satisfy quite admirably—for now.”
“I would not dream of parting with this,” she cried.
“It would seem you are not so intent on keeping Darcy and Miss Elizabeth apart after all.”
“You know I am!”
“Then, you know what you must do,” he said, eyeing the rise and fall of her bosom as much as the jewel.
She slowly acquiesced. “Shall we consider this as collateral, for I would not wish to be separated from this particular treasure for very long,” she said as she proceeded to unclasp the emerald.
“A family heirloom?” Wickham said reaching out his hand to accept the jewel.
“Indeed,” she said. “Mind you, I expect you to do exactly as I specify to the letter.”
“I mean to please,” Wickham said, tucking the emerald inside his pocket.
Satisfied, Caroline proceeded to instruct the gentleman on his part in the scheme. “It is vitally important that the two of you are perceived as more than casual acquaintances.” She reached into her own pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper. She handed it to him.
“Pray what is this?”
“It’s a letter—from Mr. Darcy to Eliza Bennet.”
Wickham perused the paper. “This is not Darcy’s handwriting.”
“Indeed. I shall need you to exercise your best imitation of Mr. Darcy’s handwriting. As intimate as the two of you are, what with your lifelong friendship, I am sure you will do the job admirably. Once you are done, I shall instruct you on the appropriate time to place the letter in Eliza Bennet’s apartment.”
“It seems you have everything all planned out save one important detail, and that is Darcy himself. No doubt he will deny having written such a letter, and that will be the end of that.”
“On the contrary, sir. By the time I have carried out my part of the scheme, the gentleman will want nothing at all to do with Eliza Bennet. Trust me.”
Wickham shrugged. “So long as I am compensated in full, I shall not be concerned one way or the other.” His manner turning to his more pressing concerns, he said, “Now, about the other proposition you alluded to moments ago—”
Aghast, the lady exclaimed derisively, “Not even if you were the last man on Earth!”
Chapter 27
Troublesome Concern
Elizabeth received another letter from the newlyweds, this one informing her of their decision to delay their arrival in Derbyshire by a fortnight at least owing to Bingley’s decision to
visit his relations in Scarborough. The Bennets thus decided it best to take their leave of Pemberley sooner rather than later. For Mr. Bennet’s part, Pemberley was not the same with his friend’s passing. Greater still, he longed for the comfort of his own home, surrounded by his own things.
Elizabeth, too, had grown weary of the company she was forced to keep, especially that of the disagreeable Caroline Bingley, who grew more uncivil with each passing day.
Miss Darcy had gone to stay with her aunt and uncle in Matlock. Even the colorful Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter Anne had returned to Kent.
Except for Mr. Bingley’s relations and Colonel Fitzwilliam, only George Wickham remained, but he had taken to spending most of his time in the neighboring town of Lambton.
All alone on an early morning ramble, Elizabeth reflected on how different things were from how she had first imagined they would be upon her arrival, so full of hope for what her sister’s future life entailed.
She knew not to be too worried about her sister even as she thought back over the disparaging things that the younger Bingley sister had espoused regarding her brother’s constancy.
Were these things said for my benefit? Elizabeth could not help but wonder at the time. On the other hand, Charles Bingley’s friend, Mr. Darcy, had said something similar confirming in Elizabeth’s mind that it must be a fair albeit unflattering portrayal of the young man’s character: “In no time at all, my brother shall be violently in love with another fair headed angel.”
She closed her eyes and prayed that this would not be the case. At length, Elizabeth persuaded her busy mind to cease being Miss Bingley’s accomplice in robbing her of her equanimity.