by Zoë Burton
Bingley, having been a long-time friend of Darcy’s, recognized the signs of the gentleman’s continued distress. He did the speaking, in place of his friend.
“The officer we heard making threats is a man named George Wickham. He grew up with Darcy but fell into disreputable habits at University.”
“Ah,” Hurst exclaimed. “A gambler?”
“Worse.”
“I am not surprised after hearing what he said this evening. I would say, Darcy, that you should go to Longbourn and alert Bennet to what we have heard. As a matter of fact, we should all go. Given his lack of action in other areas, he may not listen to one gentleman, especially when said gentleman insulted his daughter at the recent assembly.”
“He has a point, Darcy. I knew when those words came out of your mouth that they would get you in trouble.” Bingley shook his head. He had been dismayed to hear his friend speak in such a way. To know now that Darcy’s speech might cause harm caused him a great deal of discomfort.
“They have already, have they not? If I recall correctly, the two of you did nothing but argue during Miss Elizabeth’s recent stay at Netherfield,” Hurst added.
“Argue?” Darcy’s voice clearly displayed his surprise. “She was flirting with me, not arguing.”
“I hate to have to be the one to tell you,” Bingley began, “but she was not at all flirting.”
“Bingley is correct. At the very least, she was annoyed with you.” Hurst was clearly enjoying the conversation; he was practically laughing out loud.
The carriage came to a stop in front of Netherfield before Darcy had a chance to respond. The three men disembarked, making their way inside and to Bingley’s study to enjoy a nightcap, having been informed by Mrs. Nichols that the ladies had retired for the night. Once settled, they took up the conversation again.
“She was annoyed with me? How could you tell? More importantly, why would she be?”
Bingley rolled his eyes. “Why would she not? You declared where anyone—including Miss Elizabeth—could hear that she was not handsome enough to tempt you. You insulted her. That will taint every interaction between you.”
“True,” Hurst agreed. “Surely you know from your own sister, Darcy, that females forget nothing.”
Darcy blinked, startled at the thought that his little sister, who was more than ten years his junior and under his guardianship, would hold a grudge. Then, as a memory from the previous year entered his mind, his eyes grew wide, his mouth formed an O, and he took a healthy swig of the port from his glass. Clearing his throat, he finally replied to the expectant looks he was receiving. “Yes, indeed. I do know this.”
The other gentlemen laughed.
“The question is, what will you do now?” Hurst paused to sip his port. “You must take some action, and if you are the gentleman I think you are, you will.”
Darcy sighed. “Yes, I will. I will visit Longbourn as early as is decent tomorrow, and ask to see Mr. Bennet. However, I should do what I can to remove Wickham from the area, as well.”
Bingley nodded. “If it can be done, it would be a good thing.”
Darcy glowered at his glass. “I believe it could, but may take time. I will write to my cousin; he may have some way of transferring the cur to the regulars. I will also speak to the merchants. If he has enough debt, perhaps he can be sent to debtor’s prison.”
Hurst set his empty glass on the table beside his chair. “Excellent plan.” Pushing himself to a standing position, he bowed to his brother and Darcy. “I believe I shall retire. I have a comely wife who misses me. Good evening.”
Bingley shook his head as he looked after his sister’s husband. “To hear him talk, he is madly in love with her.”
Darcy raised a brow as he looked at his friend. “You believe he is not?”
Making a face, Bingley looked back down at the drink in his hand. “He seemed to when they were courting, but since the honeymoon, he has spent increasingly more time sleeping or at sport.” He lifted his glass, draining the last of the port from it.
“Well,” Darcy began, as he set his own glass on the table and stood. “Think about who inhabits his household.”
Bingley stood, as well. “True. My younger sister is not the easiest woman in the world to live with, and she does lead Louisa around by the nose more often than not. I need to get Caroline married off, and to someone who has his own home, so she is not here with the rest of us.”
The two departed then for their respective rooms, though only one would sleep well.
~~~***~~~
The next morning, Darcy headed on horseback to Longbourn, Bingley and Hurst riding alongside. The two had insisted on accompanying him.
“Knowing that Miss Elizabeth dislikes you, it is possible that she has informed her family of her feelings,” Bingley explained. “It may make Mr. Bennet less inclined to listen to you. However, they all like me, and my presence may give the story credence.”
Darcy stared at his friend for a full minute as he mentally debated how to respond, but in the end, he simply nodded and let it go. He could not argue with Bingley’s logic.
Now here they were, riding into the paddock at Longbourn. They dismounted, handing the reins to the boy who ran up from the stables, and knocking on the door.
“Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Hurst to see Mr. Bennet, if you please.”
“Do come in. The master is in his book room. I will see if he is accepting callers this morning.” The Bennets’ housekeeper took the gentlemen’s hats and gloves, and scurried off down a hallway. Darcy took the time to examine the entry, making note of the clean space and stylish decorations. Mrs. Bennet seems well able to manage a household, despite her outlandish behavior, he thought.
Soon, the housekeeper returned, declaring that Mr. Bennet was able to receive them and asking them to follow her.
As he entered the dimly lit room cluttered with stacks of books on every available space, Darcy examined the older gentleman who rose from his seat. They had met once before, when Mr. Bennet had called on Bingley, shortly after their arrival at Netherfield. Darcy had determined then that the master of Longbourn was an intelligent gentleman with a sharp wit and sardonic sense of humor. In the intervening days, he had come to learn, from tales shared by the neighbors, that Bennet was also indolent. Though he tried not to judge others based on the accounts of their neighbors, the behavior of the youngest two Bennet daughters certainly indicated a lack of attention and direction on the part of their parents. Hearing the gentleman speak, Darcy snapped his attention back to the situation at hand.
“Thank you, Hill. That will be all.” Bennet dismissed his housekeeper with a wave of his hand. “Gentlemen, welcome to Longbourn.” Bennet gestured to the chairs arranged in front of the fire. Please, be seated.”
Darcy waited until everyone had settled themselves and Bennet had offered port to them all before he spoke. “Thank you for seeing us.”
“I was surprised to see you all enter my book room. I cannot imagine what has brought you here.” Bennet leaned back in his seat, hands clasped over his belly.
Darcy looked down at the glass in his hand for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. Something in the tone of Bennet’s voice indicated that the gentleman would either make sport of Darcy during the course of the conversation, or deny the information, or both. Finally looking up, he began. “I was privy to a disturbing conversation yesterday as I was leaving a dinner with the officers of the militia stationed in Meryton.” Darcy gestured to Bingley and Hurst. “My friends were with me, and they heard the same thing I did.”
Bingley spoke up. “We did. We wanted to lend our support to Darcy, given the circumstances.”
Bennet nodded, then looked once more at Darcy. “What circumstances would they be?”
Darcy took a deep breath and related what he had heard, then waited for Bennet’s reaction.
Bennet leaned back in his seat at the end of Darcy’s recitation. “You say you know Mr. Wickham from your you
th? He seems such a pleasant fellow. I confess I find it difficult to believe your story.” He turned to Bingley and Hurst. “Do the two of you also know the gentleman in question?”
Bingley replied first. “I do know him, though not as long as Darcy has. I entered Cambridge when Darcy was in his last year. Wickham was a year behind Darcy and one ahead of me. Wickham had a terrible reputation there as a gambler and worse. He tried to persuade me to join him in his pursuits of games and women, but I refused.”
“I see,” replied Bennet. “And you, Mr. Hurst?”
“I only know him by reputation. I trust my brother and Darcy, and I know what I heard last night.”
“Mmm,” Bennet nodded his head in response to Hurst’s words. He took a slow sip of his drink and then set it on the table beside him. “I must admit that I have not paid much attention to the officers that dine here. I have spoken to most of them long enough to judge their character, and I consider myself to be a very good judge of such things. I saw nothing in Mr. Wickham’s mien or manner to indicate he is anything other than honourable. Young men often speak disrespectfully of ladies when in company with other young men, if you even heard correctly in the first place.” Bennet continued speaking over the gasps of his visitors. “Everyone knows that my daughters are too poor to be the object of attention from a bunch of second and third sons. My neighbors all know it, and I am certain, given the way the ladies gossip, that the small portions of the Bennet daughters are known by every officer in the regiment by now. Even if what you say is true, my Lizzy is too intelligent to fall for the machinations of a rogue, if Mr. Wickham is, indeed, one. Thank you for your time, but I am not concerned about my girls.”
Darcy’s fists involuntarily clenched as he listened to Bennet’s words. His lips compressed as he held back the tongue lashing the elder gentleman so richly deserved. When Bennet finished, Darcy swallowed back the vitriol that begged for release, instead choosing to speak calmly and, he hoped, persuasively. “Sir, one of the reasons Wickham gets away with so much with the ladies is his ability to easily make friends. In a word, he is charming to a degree most of us can never achieve. However, he is unable to maintain friendships due to his behaviour. I cannot urge you strenuously enough to reconsider your position. I agree that Miss Elizabeth is an intelligent young lady, but even the most astute of women has fallen prey to Mr. Wickham in the past, and Miss Elizabeth is not the only Bennet daughter who was mentioned. Miss Lydia was, as well, and from the little I have observed of her, she would be a much easier target for a man bent on using her and then discarding her, ruined.” Darcy’s voice had risen as he spoke, a response that had come unbidden at the sight of Mr. Bennet’s smirk. He was relieved to hear Hurst’s voice, supporting his claims.
“I cannot speak for Darcy and Bingley, but I know what I heard. Even without having the history with Mr. Wickham that they do, I would be hesitant to dismiss such a threat to the safety of my daughters. You know as well as I do, sir, that the ruin of one girl is the ruin of them all. Completely unfair, but too true.”
“I also know what I heard, Mr. Bennet. Hurst and I had to hold Darcy back. He was ready to thrash Wickham right then.”
Bennet turned back to the still red-faced and obviously angry Darcy. “Right there is something I wondered about. If Mr. Bingley is correct, you reacted far more strongly than one would think of a gentleman who described my daughter as not handsome enough to dance with. What would cause such a strong reaction?”
“The concern of a man who is guardian to a younger sister, and who wishes to protect other young women,” Darcy snapped. He wondered for a moment if he should share Georgiana’s story, and how she almost eloped with Wickham herself, and if doing so would make a difference in Mr. Bennet’s opinion. In the end, Darcy kept the tale to himself, not convinced the elder gentleman would take it seriously. Still feeling as though he needed to make one more attempt to make Bennet see reason, Darcy opened his mouth to speak, only to have the other gentleman cut him off.
“Enough. I will not be spoken to in such a manner in my own home. You may leave, the lot of you.” Bennet stood, pointing to the door. His face was as red as Darcy was certain his own was, and the three visitors silently stood, bowed, and stalked out of the room.
Chapter 2
With a crease between her brows and her lower lip caught between her teeth, Elizabeth watched through the drawing-room window as the three gentlemen mounted their horses and rode out of the paddock. Murmuring an excuse, she turned from her vigil and hastened out of the room and down the hall to her father’s library. She knocked softly, hesitating when she did not hear his voice bidding her enter. Silently, she debated with herself, but in the end, her curiosity was too great, and she let herself into the room, knowing full well that her father might be angry and throw her out. She made her way to her favourite chair, situated beside his desk, and quietly sat down.
“I do not recall granting you permission to enter, Elizabeth.” Mr. Bennet never lifted his gaze from his book, but his deep, displeased voice made her wince a little inside. Her status as his favorite daughter gave her leeway the others did not have, but she had never before invaded his privacy in such a manner.
Her father’s unhappiness gave Elizabeth pause, but she wanted to know what Mr. Darcy and his friends had said, and she was not to be denied. Straightening her spine and steeling herself for whatever his reaction might be to her impertinence, Elizabeth asked her question. “What did the gentlemen want, Papa?”
Mr. Bennet raised his brows and peered at his second daughter over the top of both his book and his spectacles. “That is a rather direct question, do you not think? When did I give you leave to stick your nose into my affairs?”
Elizabeth blushed and looked away for a moment, but would not back down. Her father had raised her to be direct, and he would not get away with being missish about it now, though she did not intend to tell him that. “You know very well that in the normal course of things, those particular gentlemen would have no reason to attend you here. Were it Mr. Bingley alone, it would not be unusual. He has visited you before, and you are quite aware how taken he was with Jane at the assembly, and how attentive he was to her at Netherfield. However, he did not come alone. Something of import must have happened to precipitate this visit.”
Mr. Bennet sighed and tossed his book onto the top of his desk. Elizabeth could see that he was put out; his aggravation was clear. She knew her father’s habits well, though, and counted on him wishing her gone so badly that he would give her the information she sought and send her on her way.
“The three gentlemen claim they overheard Mr. Wickham declaring to his fellow officers that he intended to seduce you.” Bennet leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands over his belly.
Elizabeth was taken aback by this information. “Me? We are barely acquainted, Mr. Wickham and I. What was your response to the information?”
“I told them you were too intelligent to be seduced, and that I saw nothing in Mr. Wickham’s behavior when he dined here to indicate he was a rake.”
“Papa, Mr. Wickham has never been to Longbourn. He has only been an officer since yesterday.” Elizabeth fought to not roll her eyes. She could get away with much, but disrespect would get her banished from his presence.
Mr. Bennet blinked. “Oh. Well.” He waved his hand as though it would remove the issue from before him. “I am certain he is not a rake in any case. He was admitted to the militia, was he not?”
“Is seduction all Mr. Wickham threatened me with? Should I be concerned for my safety?”
“It is all Mr. Darcy and his friends accused the man of. I would not worry about it, were I you. You are a sensible girl, and you are far too poor to be an object of prey to anyone. It will all come to nothing, I am certain.” Mr. Bennet picked up his book. “Now go, and leave me in peace.”
Seeing that she had been summarily dismissed, Elizabeth reluctantly rose and left the book-room. Chewing her lip, she paused in the hall, l
ooking first toward the drawing-room, where her mother and sisters could be heard chattering, and then up the stairs. She knew she needed to be alone and quiet so she could think about what her father had told her, as well as his response. She longed for her room, but knew the only way to have any privacy was to walk, so she grabbed her bonnet and pelisse, and off she went.
Entering the stables, Elizabeth paused to consider her options. Making up her mind, she strode with sure steps out a door on the side that led to a courtyard in the back. A swing hung there, a simple slab of wood tied up with long ropes to a crossbeam. It hung in the middle of what had been in previous centuries a gate, Longbourn having been granted to a member of the Bennet family some four or five hundred years ago. The actual wooden gate was long gone, though the opening was often used by the tenants and servants. When Elizabeth and her sister Jane had been very young, their father had hung the swing up with his own hands, for their amusement. It was one of Elizabeth’s favorite places to be. She was in the bosom of her family here, but out of sight and sound of them.
Now, she sat on the seat, gently pushing herself back and forth, a sudden burst of exuberance enticing her to do as she had in her younger years and see how high she could swing. Before long, her mind turned back to the issue at hand, and she slowed her movements.
She was uneasy about her father’s response to Mr. Wickham’s threats. He was correct, of course; she was not the sort of female to allow the words of any man to turn her head and sway her to give up the best part of her without benefit of marriage. Still, for Mr. Darcy, who had refused to dance with her, declaring her not handsome enough to tempt him, to come to her father with a warning …
Elizabeth became distracted at this point with thoughts of Mr. Darcy, who she had, from the very first, thought the most handsome and elegant gentleman she had ever seen. Even after he had insulted her and she had been angry, she had been unable to expunge him from her mind. The tall stature, powerful build, and noble mien had haunted her for weeks. Spending time at Netherfield while Jane recovered from her cold had been equal parts pleasure and pain, for she knew that Darcy disliked her and that he stared at her in disdain. Despite this, she had developed an attachment to him, seeing as she did his intelligence and his enjoyment of debate. She had done her best to hide her approbation, but it was not easy. She sighed. If only I could make him like me, but I know it will never be. Before she could give in to the tears that rose up inside her, she turned her mind back to the matter at hand.