Mr Darcy- My Hero

by Zoë Burton

  For Darcy and Elizabeth, their engagement period had a few ups and many downs. The morning after their announcement, he sent an express to his solicitor outlining the settlement he wanted for Elizabeth. One week later, he was required to go to London to meet with the man and check on his work. He waited in London for a se’ennight, completing other business and choosing a ring for Elizabeth from the Darcy jewels, before heading back to Meryton to bring copies of the papers to Longbourn for Mr. Bennet to sign. He missed Elizabeth deeply. He carried a token, a lock of her hair, but it was not the same as being in her ever more intoxicating presence.

  For Elizabeth, the separation was equally wrenching, and it was made more so by the entrance into Meryton society of both her father’s cousin and heir apparent, and one Lieutenant George Wickham.

  Chapter 4

  Elizabeth and her sisters met the officer one day soon after Darcy had left for London. They had walked into Meryton as a group, accompanied by their cousin, Mr. Collins, who was visiting in an attempt to “heal the breach” that had existed between his late father and Mr. Bennet.

  Mr. Collins was a large, heavy man. He was at the same time obsequious and condescending, lavishing praise on those around him on the one hand while proclaiming his superiority on the other. These conflicting mannerisms rendered him ridiculous to those inclined to see such things.

  One of his goals for the trip, and his desired way of making amends for being the heir, was to offer marriage for one of his cousins. His first choice was the eldest Miss Bennet, but he was assured that she was expecting an offer any day from their neighbor and frequent visitor, Mr. Bingley. He then set his sights on Miss Elizabeth, the second oldest. With no evidence of a suitor, he was positive he would be welcomed. His disappointment was acute upon learning that she was already engaged. When he pointed out that he had not seen anyone calling on her, he was informed in what he considered a rather forceful manner that her betrothed was currently in London, arranging her settlement. He was not to consider her as the companion of his future life.

  “But Mrs. Bennet, surely you wish your daughter to have a secure future. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, you know.” Collins followed Mrs. Bennet around the drawing room. This was the third time he had used this argument, and his hostess was losing her patience.

  “Mr. Collins. I have said to you repeatedly that Elizabeth is unavailable to you. She is betrothed to a man who has several thousand a year. Your paltry parsonage is nothing to his great estate. You may not, under any circumstances, ask my second daughter to marry you.”

  Drawing himself up, Mr. Collins drew on the last resource he felt he had left. “Then I shall speak to your husband, who will surely see the value of my offer over this imaginary gentleman you speak of.” He turned on his heel and left the room, Mrs. Bennet’s imprecations ringing in his ears.

  He gained no satisfaction from his conference with Mr. Bennet.

  “But Cousin, surely you do not mean to reject me!” exclaimed Collins for the tenth time since he entered the room mere minutes ago.

  Mr. Bennet sighed, closing the book in his hands and laying it on the desk. He removed his spectacles, placing them on top of the book before folding his hands over the lot and raising his eyes to his absurd cousin.

  “Sir, I will repeat this one time more, and it will be the last time. Elizabeth is engaged. Just because you have not seen her betrothed does not mean he does not exist. You will choose one of my three younger daughters or someone from the neighborhood. I care not which. I am finished with this conversation, Mr. Collins. You may take your ludicrous manners to another room of the house. Would that anyone else were my heir!” When Collins did not heed his words and leave the room, Mr. Bennet stood, pointed his finger to the door, and loudly proclaimed, “Out!”

  Mr. Collins left the room in a hurry and with a dilemma. He was left with three options for a wife, none of which were terribly appealing. He decided to take more time to observe, not just his youngest cousins, but the other ladies in the area.

  Later this particular day, Mr. Collins accompanied his fair cousins on a walk into Meryton. As they approached the home of Mrs. Bennet’s sister, Mrs. Philips, Cousin Lydia engaged an officer and another gentleman in conversation. When introduced, the party learned the other gentleman’s name was George Wickham and that he was there with the intent of purchasing a lieutenancy in the militia stationed just outside of town.

  Mr. Wickham had the kind of dark good looks that drew the eyes of many young women. He was tall, with brown eyes and dark hair that was just long enough to touch his collar. His smile brightened his entire face, making him even more attractive. Lydia Bennet, Elizabeth’s youngest sister, was not immune to appealing young men. Mr. Collins observed her flirtatious behavior and struck her off his list of potential wives. He required a spouse who was demure and would remain faithful to him. It was plain to him that she was neither of those things.

  Elizabeth, always happy to meet new people, was at first charmed by Mr. Wickham. Within a few minutes, though, she began to be uncomfortable with him. She could not say what it was, but there was a quality to his interactions that gave her pause. His behavior was everything correct, but there was an undefinable air about him that bespoke danger; a look in his eye that was not so very proper. She resolved to avoid him as much as possible and to warn her sisters to do the same. I shall tell Papa, as well, she thought, and urge him to restrict their contact with the man. Perhaps I might also accompany them to Meryton from now on. Elizabeth felt she must do all she could to protect them. They may choose not to listen, but at least she will have done her duty by them.

  Mr. Wickham, on the other hand, was quite intrigued by the vivacious Miss Elizabeth Bennet. When she wasn’t looking, he raked his eyes salaciously down her form. With curves in all the right places, she was exactly the type of woman he preferred. His time here was sure to be enjoyable with such delicious-looking ladies in the town.

  His first opportunity to ingratiate himself with her came two days later, at a dinner party held at the home of Sir William Lucas. Seeing Miss Elizabeth sitting alone, Wickham made his way to her.

  “Miss Elizabeth, how delightful to see you here.”

  “Mr. Wickham,” she replied with a nod, hoping he would take the hint that he was not welcome and move on. Her hopes were dashed, however, when he simply sat in the chair beside hers and settled in.

  “I was hoping to see you this evening. You impressed me the other day as a woman of great intelligence and wit, and I hope we shall be great friends.”

  Not if I can help it, Elizabeth thought. Out loud she replied, “I thank you for your compliments, sir, though I cannot imagine your reasoning behind choosing me, of all the ladies in this town, to befriend. Surely I was not the only one you have met since arriving.”

  While she was speaking, her youngest sisters, Lydia and Kitty, arrived at her side. Remembering this new officer to their small town and how nice he seemed when she had met him before, Lydia immediately injected herself into the conversation. “La, Lizzy must be careful now about whom she befriends. Her betrothed might not like her making friends with such a good-looking man. Lizzy, what would Mr. Darcy say about it? Would he approve?”

  Wickham went immediately on alert, but forced himself to respond casually, “Mr. Darcy, you say? Where is he from?”

  “He is from Derbyshire, sir.”

  “Ah, interesting. Have you known him long?”

  “Long enough that when he asked, I agreed to marry him.”

  Sensing Miss Elizabeth felt his question impertinent, he retreated a bit, apologizing for his lapse in manners. When he felt she was once again relaxed enough, he began to weave his story for her. It was one he had told often, for various reasons. Usually he told it to garner sympathy for himself or to discredit his childhood friend, for that’s what Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire was—a childhood friend.

  The two boys had grown up together at Pemberley. George was the son of the
steward and Fitzwilliam was the heir. They were months apart in age, with Fitzwilliam being the older, and both had lost their mothers in their thirteenth year. Both received the same education, for the elder Mr. Darcy paid for George, who was his godson, to attend school as a way to reward his steward for his faithful service. It was not until that first year at Eton that George began to see a difference between himself and his friend.

  George’s mother, when she was alive, had been a spendthrift, and her son inherited that tendency. Living on Pemberley as he had, with free access to the kitchens and pretty much anything he wanted, his style of living was not that different than had he been Darcy’s son instead of Wickham’s. However, at Eton he was made painfully aware that he was nothing more than the offspring of the steward. He no longer had access to whatever he desired, and his charm, which had worked so well at Pemberley, no longer was as effective. It was pointed out by all and sundry that he was a servant, albeit a blessed one.

  Fitzwilliam had done his best to shield him from the abuse he suffered as a result of his origins and to force his acceptance, but it was never enough. As the years of their schooling passed, the two grew apart, Wickham doing whatever was required to be accepted, ultimately becoming heavily involved in gambling, drinking, and consorting with the maids. Darcy, whose acceptance was guaranteed, withdrew more and more into himself and away from the pranks and carousing of his peers. By the time they entered Cambridge, their only connection was a tenuous one through Darcy’s father. Darcy stoically cleaned up Wickham’s messes during their university years, in order to preserve his family’s good name and his father’s fondness for his godson.

  Darcy’s father passed within a year of his leaving University. Wickham’s followed a mere six months later. It was while he was at Pemberley for his father’s funeral that Wickham finally made application to Darcy for the legacy he knew his godfather had left him. His disappointment and anger were great when he discovered that other than one thousand pounds, the only other thing left him in the will was the gift of a living, the one at Kympton, near to Pemberley, and that only if he took Holy Orders. He refused the living, and charmed Darcy into giving him three thousand pounds in exchange. Telling his boyhood friend he was planning to study law, Wickham instead ran through the money in two years. When he heard the living was open, he wrote to Darcy asking for it, but Darcy refused. To avenge himself and get the money that he felt should be his, Wickham tried to convince Darcy’s younger sister, Georgiana, to elope with him.

  Fate was against him there, too, for while the fifteen-year-old girl was convinced of his undying love for her and that her brother would be thrilled to be surprised, when Darcy showed up unexpectedly, she told him everything. Wickham received a letter from him two days prior to their departure date, denying him Georgiana’s hand unless he met certain conditions and threatening dire consequences should he attempt to deceive them. Wickham’s response was to run.

  Of course, he did not share all of these details with Miss Elizabeth. He left out anything that might make her think less of him, and twisted other facts around to make Darcy appear the cad. From all appearances, she believed him, and he had hopes of ruining Darcy’s happiness further by taking his betrothed’s affections away from him. Of course, being the cold man Darcy was, he may not mind a broken engagement. Only time would tell, and Wickham had plenty of that. Having finished his story, he looked expectantly at his prey. He was left to wonder at his success when she responded.

  “That was quite a tale Mr. Wickham. Thank you for sharing it with me.” So saying, Elizabeth rose from her seat, curtseyed, and walked to the fireplace to join her father and some of the neighboring gentlemen.

  Elizabeth was neither taken in nor amused by his story. He couldn’t know, of course, that she was already wary of him when he began. It was the increasingly bizarre details of his story, that did not match up in any way with what she knew of her beloved’s character that put an end to her desire to maintain the acquaintance. She knew in her heart that he was lying, though she could not imagine why. It was apparent that he had some sort of grudge against Fitzwilliam. She determined to stay as close to her parents as possible for the remainder of the evening.

  Chapter 5

  At home that night, before the family retired, Elizabeth knocked on the door to her father’s bookroom and asked to speak with him. When he granted permission, she closed the door behind her and took a seat in her favorite chair, near his desk.

  “What is it you wish to speak to me about, my child? I noticed you remained close to me most of the evening.”

  “I did, Papa. I am not certain where to begin, so I shall just say it and if I am unclear, you will need to ask for clarification.” She looked questioningly at him, and upon seeing his nod, she told him about meeting Mr. Wickham in Meryton and her discomfort in his presence and then the unbelievable characterization he gave of Mr. Darcy. She ended with, “I cannot explain why, but I am uneasy in his company. Even before the dinner party, I did not wish to maintain a connection to him.”

  Mr. Bennet, having listened intently and asked questions where necessary as she spoke, thought for a moment about all he heard. “If you are uncomfortable in his presence, then you should avoid him as much as possible. He is an officer and as much as the populace admires soldiers, their reputations are not spotless, on the whole. Do not be alone with him. In fact, I believe that you should probably take a groom or footman with you now that you have resumed your rambles in the mornings, for protection.”

  “As much as I dislike the idea, I will agree. But what about my sisters? Lydia in particular seems enamored of him. I worry for her.”

  Nodding, he replied, “I shall take care of the problem with them. I will make it clear that no officer is welcome in this home, and that Lydia and Kitty, especially, are not to venture into Meryton without you, Mary, or Jane in attendance.”

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  Mr. Bennet smiled at his favorite child. “You are welcome, my dear. Is there anything else your old Papa can fix for you tonight?”

  Elizabeth laughed, “No, sir. That is all.”

  “Then off to bed with you.”

  Standing up and kissing his head, she responded, “Good night,” and left the bookroom to head up the stairs.

  ~~~***~~~

  The next morning, the Bennet ladies received a visit from those of the Bingley party. Caroline Bingley would have rather avoided the provincial Bennet clan, but her brother was convinced he was in love with Jane and insisted that his sisters get to know her better. At the prodding of their eldest sister, Louisa Hurst, Caroline finally agreed. With the upcoming nuptials between Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth, the sisters could not truly repine his choice, and would not, if it were not for the fact that Caroline wanted Darcy for herself.

  For weeks, Miss Bingley had tried to open Mr. Darcy’s eyes to the inferiority of the Bennets in general, and Miss Elizabeth in particular. She had pointed out every flaw, from the lady’s sharp, shrewish eyes, to the mother’s intemperate and uncontrolled behavior. But Darcy had been steadfast in his rebuttals, to the point of confronting Miss Bingley with her desires to have him for herself and making it clear that she would never have been his choice.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she pleaded, “surely you see the truth in my words! Miss Elizabeth has nothing to recommend her to a man such as yourself. Why, I am certain all your friends will reject her and then where will you be?”

  “Reject my wife? And lose their connection to me? I hardly think so. A connection to me is an important one. Few would risk losing it. And, to be honest, anyone who would dare raise my ire by rejecting Elizabeth is not someone I wish to associate with in the first place.” He paused, looking out the window as a thought entered his mind. Turning back to Miss Bingley with a gleam in his eye, he added, “What about you? Are you one of those who choose to reject my wife?”

  Caroline gasped. As much as she hated Miss Elizabeth for taking the place she coveted, she dared not reje
ct a connection to such an important family. She would be ruined socially were she to do something so foolish. “Oh, no, Mr. Darcy, I did not mean to imply that I would do such a thing!”

  “That is excellent news! Let me be clear about one more thing, while we are having this conversation. You are not now, nor have you ever been, a candidate for the position of Mistress of Pemberley. While you are the sister of a gentleman, and that gentleman is my very good friend, you are not the daughter of a gentleman. That has always been the number one requirement for anyone desiring to be my wife. In addition, your behavior, while exactly that of every other woman of the ton is not endearing. Had I desired to marry someone who was conniving, gossiped about others, and put on airs, I would have married years ago. I chose Miss Elizabeth because she is everything you and all the other women of high society are not. She is sincere, she is kind, and she is intelligent and unafraid to show it. You never had a chance, Miss Bingley.” He rose from his seat, sketched a shallow bow to her, turned on his heel, and left the room.

  Caroline was speechless. She heard his words, but could not believe them to be true. Why would he say such things, she wondered. He cannot mean them!

  Now, with Mr. Darcy away, Caroline felt she had one last chance to break the couple apart. She had made the acquaintance of Mr. Wickham at last evening’s dinner. She recognized his Derbyshire accent and inquired of his connection, if any, with the Darcys. Before long, the conversation turned to Mr. Darcy’s betrothal to Miss Elizabeth, and the lieutenant had passed along to her an interesting piece of information that she was quite eager to share with her adversary. She wasted no time in doing so.

  “Miss Elizabeth, have you heard from Mr. Darcy?”

  “I have not. With him only being gone a few days, we decided against such a scheme.”

  “I am afraid, then, that I have bad news,” Caroline put forth, a patently false look of sadness on her face.