by Jann Rowland
“It does not matter. But I thought it would be a great joke.”
“Then the joke would be on you. Jane and I have had several years in society, and we have enjoyed the attentiveness of the men, dancing and laughing as we attended events. In many ways, you have much more freedom as an unmarried woman. If you do not have an independent fortune, as we do not, that will change. For now, I urge you to enjoy being a young woman without the cares of a husband and eventually a family. There is no need to rush.”
“I suppose there is not,” grumbled Lydia.
“Then behave in a manner which will not bring censure on your head. Our situation is too precarious, our prospects too limited to allow for any misbehavior. Do it for yourself, if no one else.”
When they left the room a few moments later, Lydia was caught in introspection, which had happened little enough in the past to be noteworthy in this instance. Perhaps she would discount Elizabeth’s words in the end. But Elizabeth finally had hope that all would turn out well.
Chapter XV
“WELL, DARCY,” SAID A detested voice, bringing Darcy from his thoughts of the situation, but more of Miss Elizabeth. “I see you are here, alone, as usual. Does the solitary nature of your existence not become tedious after a time?”
“I have friends enough, Wickham,” replied Darcy. He continued to walk, but Wickham only turned to follow him. It seemed the man was eager to provoke him.
“Ah, yes. I believe I know something of your friends.” Wickham snorted. “Hangers on such as that Bingley fellow you have inexplicably befriended, or those in society as proud and rude as you, who associate with those they detest because it is expected. What a wonderful circle of friends you possess.”
“On the contrary,” replied Darcy, not caring in the slightest if Wickham denigrated his friends, “Bingley is one of the best men I have ever met. He is not a hanger on—we are friends due to mutual admiration and complementary tempers.”
Wickham snorted. “Very complementary, indeed. Bingley, who is a frivolous man, utterly vacuous, who is best friends with a dour stick in the mud lacking any personality. How you must rejoice in finding each other.”
“Was there some reason you wished to insult my friends? Or is this just more of your usual despicable behavior?”
“I only thought you might wish to commiserate about the emptiness of your life,” said Wickham with mock concern.
“My life is quite full,” said Darcy. Or it would be full once Darcy was able to convince Miss Elizabeth to be his wife. The thought, the first time it had ever appeared, felt so right that Darcy, for a moment, forgot with whom he was speaking, and allowed his thoughts to take wing, imagining how his life would be with her in it.
“How typical,” said Wickham, dragging Darcy’s thoughts back to his presence. “You high society men are all alike. You comfort yourselves with your piles of money and claim you have everything you would ever need.”
“That is rich, coming from you,” said Darcy. “For a man who craves wealth above everything else, speaking of a rich man bathing in his wealth is more than a little disingenuous. Of course, it would not matter how much fortune you obtain, for it would slip through your fingers as soon as you laid your hands upon it.”
Wickham glared and changed the subject. “Then there is the relative state of our attractions when it comes to women.” Wickham released a cruel laugh calculated to rile Darcy’s anger. “Or perhaps, I should say, the difference between us. I have no trouble attracting women wherever I go, whereas you scare them. If you had no fortune to augment your nonexistent charms, I doubt you would ever find a woman to look at you twice.
As it was, Darcy was more amused by Wickham’s assertions than anything. When they were young, Wickham had been successful in provoking his anger on many occasions using this tactic. But Darcy had changed over the years. Wickham, however, had never seemed to realize this, as he had tried the same thing on the rare occasions they had been in proximity to each other without success.
“You are equally quick in losing the interest of a woman when she discovers what kind of man you are.”
Wickham laughed. “You wound me, Darcy. Did you not know that women love a bit of danger about a man? Many have thought they could tame me. Perhaps one day I shall even allow one to succeed.”
“Is there some purpose behind this boasting?” asked Darcy. “Your company makes me feel soiled like I require bathing. If all you wish to do is speak of such subjects in an attempt to anger me, you are wasting my time.”
“Take Miss Lydia Bennet, for example,” said Wickham, ignoring Darcy’s words. “She is a pretty young thing, dumb as a post, of course, but possessing many other qualities a man would find pleasing. As long as he could muzzle her, of course. I could pluck her in an instant, and she would hardly even know I had done it.”
“That is quite enough, Wickham,” said Darcy, turning a baleful glare on his erstwhile friend. “She is a gentlewoman, regardless of what you think of her. I suggest you keep your distance from all the Bennets.”
“She is not much of a challenge, anyway,” said Wickham. “Miss Bingley, however, is a different matter altogether. She is, I suppose, handsome in a way, though not what I would call pretty. Her virtues include a handsome dowry, from what I understand, and . . .” Wickham made a great show of thinking about the matter and then shrugging. “I suppose that really is her only virtue. I cannot blame you for avoiding her, though she only wants your wealth and status. That tongue of hers could peel paint off the walls.”
As it turned out, Darcy agreed with Wickham’s assessment, though not with the man’s contemptuous manner. Thus, he only shook his head.
“But a man in my circumstances would do much to obtain a fortune rumored to be twenty thousand pounds. Perhaps I should seduce her, give your insipid friend little choice but to marry her off to me.”
“You are welcome to try, Wickham,” said Darcy. “As you say, she is fixated on me, and if not on me, then another man of wealth and status in society. She would not give you the time of day. And remember that tongue.”
“No, I suppose you are correct.” Wickham snorted. “Besides, a man might wish himself dead if he was forced to endure a wife such as Caroline Bingley.”
Again, Darcy could not but agree with him. Keeping his temper was not a trial. But then Wickham changed tactics.
“Perhaps, then, I shall simply seduce Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy was not amused, but he settled on glaring at Wickham and saying: “She knows what you are, Wickham. She will not be taken in by your artful stories.”
A derisive laugh met Darcy’s statement. “If I had a copper for every woman I seduced who knew what I was before I seduced her, I would be wealthier than you.”
With a grunt, Darcy turned away. Given how angry he was becoming at the mere mention of Miss Elizabeth’s name on Wickham’s tongue, it was best that he put some space between them. But Wickham had other ideas, following closely on his heels, intent on stirring up trouble.
“Come, Darcy, are you that disdainful of the fair Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s charms? Given how aligned our taste in women is, I would have thought you eager to be savoring her delights.” Wickham let out a raucous laugh. “Oh, of course! It is that stiff-necked Darcy pride holding you back. Or perhaps it is your overweening sense of morality and propriety. You never did know how to enjoy yourself.”
“That morality, of which you speak, was also possessed by my father, a man you claimed to revere.”
Wickham made a guttural sound in his throat. “Your father was useful; I will grant you that. The fact that he believed me instead of you is particularly ironic, do you not think? He was as gullible as anyone I have ever met.”
Darcy turned and rounded on Wickham, causing the man to stop sharply, though his sneer never waned. “You never did know when to stay silent, did you, Wickham? By all means, continue to speak—it would be satisfying to plant a facer on you. And for the r
ecord, the only reason you are not receiving it now is because I was already aware of what you think of my father.”
“Oh, I have nothing but respect for your father.” Wickham paused and an ugly smirk cane over his countenance. “I know what holds you back from Miss Elizabeth. You know she prefers me and do not wish to be embarrassed. Good choice, old boy!”
“You always were overly confident,” said Darcy. “There is no question of which of us she prefers. If you wish to make a fool of yourself, please proceed. I would find it fascinating and amusing, I assure you.”
“I believe I shall!” Wickham’s tone was all that was cheerful. “She is a lively thing, is she not? Taming that wild spirit would be highly gratifying. What do you think I would see in her eyes in the moment of ecstasy? I can hardly wait to witness it.”
“I suggest you be silent, Wickham,” hissed Darcy.
“And if I ruin her, it would be sweet vengeance, indeed. Since you foiled my plans with respect to Georgiana, I will take from you the woman you believe you are coming to love. Poetic—”
Darcy had enough. He grasped Wickham by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall nearby hard enough for his teeth to rattle. At that exact moment, Mrs. Bennet and Miss Kitty rounded a corner and came upon them, their eyes wide with shock.
“Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed the Bennet matron.
Ignoring her, Darcy instead spoke softly to Wickham. “Continue to try me, Wickham—by all means. Though horsewhipping you would give me great pleasure, I do not need to do it. I can simply call in your debts and bury you in the deepest hole I can find. Or perhaps I will leave you to Fitzwilliam.”
Fear bloomed in Wickham’s eyes—he had always been more than a little afraid of Fitzwilliam. Then Darcy released the disgusting libertine and stalked away. As he walked, he heard Mrs. Bennet making a fuss over Wickham.
“Oh, Mr. Wickham! Are you hurt?”
But Darcy did not hear Wickham’s reply, nor did he wish to. If Wickham put one more foot out of line, Darcy would take great pleasure in doing exactly as he had promised. It would have been best if he had done so many years ago.
“Oh, Louisa!” wailed Caroline Bingley. “I know not how I can bear the presence of those awful Bennets much longer! How am I to cope?”
Louisa Hurst, who had been listening to a variation of this complaint since the Bennets had been forced to stay at Netherfield, shook her head, wishing her sister would cease her lamentations. It was giving her a headache and making her irritable.
“And that awful Miss Eliza! That I was compared to the likes of her by Mr. Darcy’s odious aunt is more than I can bear! How dare she make such an insinuation!”
“The way I understand it,” said Louisa, knowing Caroline would not hear her, “she did not insinuate anything.”
True to form, Caroline was ranting and did not hear anything Louisa said. “And Mr. Darcy! He shows more interest in that hussy daily! I thought he was a discerning and sophisticated man, yet he is showing himself to be as fickle and easily led as Charles!”
Louisa was so very tired! She was so tired that she almost wished she was back at Hurst’s estate, far from anyone named Bennet. Far from her sister, who had never drained Louisa’s patience as she did now. Would that she had never even heard the name Netherfield!
As Caroline continued speaking, carrying on about Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth and the Bennets in general, Louisa allowed her attention to wander, knowing her sister would not notice anyway. At one point, she almost fell asleep! But the sound of Caroline’s piercing voice would not have allowed her respite for long, regardless, so it was no loss.
“What can we do, Louisa?’ Caroline’s voice penetrated the fog building in Louisa’s mind. “Charles must not be allowed to propose to Miss Bennet, and we must do something to draw Mr. Darcy away from Miss Eliza.”
“I do not believe there is anything you can do, Caroline. Mr. Darcy will act as he sees fit. And so will Charles, whether you like it or not.”
“Oh!” cried Caroline, her frustration boiling over. “If you are of no use, then I suggest you leave me be. I will handle everything, as I always do.”
Caroline stalked to the sideboard in her room where she hefted the decanter of brandy, only to find it empty. She cried out and threw her hands into the air. “Even the servants are now betraying me! Where is that useless maid of mine?”
“Caroline,” said Louisa, calling on every well of patience she had ever possessed, “you know I will always stand by you, whatever may be. It is true that Mr. Darcy seems to be getting closer to Miss Elizabeth, the longer we are here. But unless you can persuade Charles to throw the whole family out in the cold, there is no choice but to endure them.”
“Then we must concede defeat?” asked Caroline, her tone sulky. “Is that what you are saying?”
“Not necessarily,” replied Louisa. “It is true that Mr. Darcy and Charles will act as they see fit. But it is certainly possible we can lead them in the direction we wish them to go. Even Mr. Darcy, who is as determined a man as I have ever met, may act in a way we desire if we lead him properly.”
A thoughtful Caroline was much more endurable than a petulant Caroline, which Louisa had occasion to witness many times. When her sister stayed silent for several moments, Louisa spoke again.
“The trick, as I see it, is to prevent either from doing something disastrous at present. The Bennets will not be trapped here forever. Ensure they leave Netherfield as soon as possible, distract them both from doing anything we do not wish them to do while the Bennets remain, and once they are gone, we may take steps to detach Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth from Charles and Mr. Darcy.”
“Perhaps we could insist on returning to town?” suggested Caroline. “Charles mentioned he had a matter of business for which he was required to return. If we close Netherfield and follow him thither, we can distract him from Miss Bennet. And with Mr. Darcy away from this neighborhood, why, I am certain he would forget about Miss Eliza and remember himself. Then if I show him what an excellent match I would be for him, he can hardly resist me!
Despite Caroline’s excitement, Louisa was less convinced of the ultimate success of their schemes with respect to Mr. Darcy. The man was immovable as a mountain. Charles, on the other hand, was malleable and easily led, if it was done with subtlety. Louisa knew that Caroline would allow Charles’s fascination with Miss Bennet to succeed if it would mean her gaining Mr. Darcy, but Louisa thought it certain it would be far easier to prevent their brother from having his Bennet sister than Mr. Darcy.
But a happy and scheming Caroline was far preferable to a petulant Caroline and much easier on Louisa’s nerves. Prudence dictated she support her sister in this and keep her as happy as possible. If Mr. Darcy did propose to Miss Elizabeth, hopefully, they could have Charles engaged to another woman of greater suitability. Caroline could focus on that.
“Very well,” said Caroline. “That shall be our plan for now. Thank you, Louisa, for speaking sense. I can see now that all will be well.”
“I am happy to hear it,” said Louisa. “Now, if you will excuse me, I shall return to my rooms to rest before dinner.”
Caroline nodded. As she was leaving, Louisa heard her calling for the maid. As the poor girl stepped into the room, Caroline started berating her. Louisa sighed. At least Caroline would not arrive at dinner soused—had Louisa not redirected her, that eventuality would have been highly possible.
Elizabeth had discovered these past days that Miss Anne de Bourgh was more than she might have ever expected. Though it would be uncharitable to suggest that her mother’s death had allowed her to flourish, it was undeniable that the woman Elizabeth knew was much more than the one she had met the first night at Netherfield. And though it might have been improper to discuss the matter openly, on that occasion, Anne did exactly that.
“I am wondering what I should do with myself,” confessed Anne as they sat beside the fire in Anne’s room. The dress wh
ich was draped over her thin form was dyed black as night, which did not at all suit the woman’s pale complexion. It made her appear quite ghostly, especially in the evening when the light faded.
“Mother has always controlled every aspect of my life. I find my future liberated, but quite frightening at the same time.”
“I suppose you will return to your estate?”
“For the mourning, at the very least,” replied Anne. “That would be proper. I should not even know what to do in London, for I have never had a season there.”
“Never had a season?” asked Elizabeth with a frown. “Surely a woman of your wealth and standing must have had a season.”
“Ah, but you forget,” said Anne. “I was to marry my Cousin Darcy. I did not need to be paraded before all the grasping men of society when my future was already secured.” Elizabeth could not help but shake her head in disbelief. “It seems your mother was so fixated on this match that she neglected to allow you to live.”
“That is true,” said Anne. She fell silent for a moment, her gaze far away. “Though I suppose I should not be grateful for such a thing, my mother’s death has made my future much brighter. She was a difficult woman, and I will do well enough without her.”
The thought that Lady Catherine’s death had benefited Anne as much as anyone else crossed Elizabeth’s mind. But she did not think this frail creature possessed the will, let alone the strength, to murder her robust mother. Or had she? How much strength did it take to hold a pillow over the head of another?
Elizabeth shook her head, willing such thoughts away. She was seeing murderers behind every door! “I am certain your cousins will assist,” said she, in order to dispel the dark thoughts which had gathered.
“I am certain they will,” replied Anne. “Darcy’s help, in particular, will be welcome. My mother did not have much difficulty in gaining the cooperation of the tenants and servants, but I am not so foolish as to believe I am anything like my mother.”