“You are responsible for separating Jane from the man she loved?” Elizabeth’s father was on his feet, eying William with horror.
“She seemed so…” William hesitated. “I did not think her feelings were engaged.”
Elizabeth shot to her feet as well. “And why should you make such a determination?”
William was standing, but he kept his eyes fixed on the table. “It was not well done of me. I know it now, and I am so very sorry.”
Elizabeth stood behind her chair, grabbing the back to steady herself. Her entire body shook with anger and flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with the blazing fire in the fireplace. Perhaps I should simply leave. Papa would come with me. We could hail a cab—if they have them on Christmas Day. Or we can walk. How can I remain here? Knowing what he did, how can I stay and make polite conversation with him?
William’s obvious distress did little to mitigate Elizabeth’s anger. He might regret his actions, but Jane’s happiness was still ruined. Elizabeth squeezed the back of the chair until her knuckles turned white.
It took a moment to notice that many of the dinner guests were staring at her. Why?
Oh.
Oh.
In her rage Elizabeth had forgotten that William was the man who had asked her to marry him. The man whose proposal she had been on the verge of accepting under the mistletoe not half an hour earlier. Now she could not. She should not accept William’s hand. She should not wish to accept William’s hand.
And yet, somehow, she did. She wanted to marry him with a greater ferocity than she had ever wanted anything before. Her desire should have been quenched forever, yet it blazed even more heartily.
It made no sense. She was angry; that rage should drive out any other emotions, even love.
Love.
Elizabeth’s breath caught. Oh, merciful heavens, I am in love with him.
What a terrible time to realize it.
In a flash Elizabeth understood why she had been uncomfortable accepting William’s proposal. Earlier, she had not been sure she loved him, and she had been unable to imagine marrying him without love. Now she knew she loved him, and it did her no good.
She wanted to accept his proposal immediately. She wanted to stand on her chair and cry her acceptance to the whole room. She wanted…to kiss him before all his Christmas guests. And now was the moment when she could not.
Elizabeth’s anger at William had transformed into a cold fury aimed at Miss Bingley, who had forced this unwelcome knowledge upon Elizabeth and her father. No doubt she hoped it would separate Elizabeth from William. Elizabeth had no desire to see the other woman’s scheme succeed, but how could she agree to marry William after this awful revelation?
William was stricken. “Elizabeth, I did realize, and I—”
“I believe,” Miss Bingley drawled, “that you had best exert your energy toward explaining why you wish to marry Elizabeth Bennet when you believed her family was not good enough for my brother?”
“I would like an answer to that question as well,” Elizabeth’s father said, glaring at William.
“I was wrong. I realized it not long ago.” He spoke to everyone, but his eyes were fixed on Elizabeth, beseeching her. “I pray you understand. I attempted to make amends by—”
The door to the dining room opened once more, and the butler entered.
“What is it now, Bates?” William asked.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but Mr. Bingley has just arrived.” Bates must have worked for years to perfect that bland non-expression.
“Charles? Here?” Miss Bingley cried. “But I did not expect him back for two more days!”
Elizabeth understood that panicked tone. No doubt her brother would be less than impressed by how Miss Bingley had insinuated herself into the Darcy House Christmas celebration and endeavored to stoke controversy. She obviously had not intended him to know until all the damage was done.
“Please show him in, Bates,” William said with an air of weary resignation. At this point he would probably be happiest if all his guests departed immediately.
“Elizabeth,” William said after Bates departed, “I have been trying to tell you that—”
“She accepted!” Mr. Bingley’s voice preceded him into the room. “She accepted, Darcy!” The door burst open, and the man himself entered, sporting an enormous grin. “I am an engaged man.”
Oh no. Elizabeth’s heart froze. He had proposed to another woman already? It would break Jane’s heart, and then Elizabeth could never accept William.
Mr. Bingley stopped short at the threshold, nearly tripping over himself when he realized the size of the gathering he had interrupted.
“I beg your pardon!” he exclaimed with a chagrined smile. “I apologize for intruding like this.”
“Who accepted your offer, Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth’s father said in a dangerously low voice. “To whom are you engaged?”
Mr. Bingley’s smile faded somewhat, and he cleared his throat. “Well…actually, sir. I have just returned from…Netherfield. While there I made a trip to Longbourn where I spoke to Jane—Miss Jane Bennet.”
Elizabeth started smiling.
Miss Bingley started scowling.
“She graciously accepted my apology and my offer to love and cherish her for the rest of my life.” Despite the disconcerting experience of facing Jane’s father unexpectedly, Mr. Bingley glowed with happiness. “I just arrived in London today in the hopes of seeking you out to obtain your permission.” He grinned despite his uncertainty. “You have saved me the trouble of a trip to Gracechurch Street, sir.”
“You proposed marriage to Jane, and she accepted you?” Elizabeth’s father said slowly.
Mr. Bingley smiled. “Yes, sir.”
“But it was my understanding that your sister and Mr. Darcy convinced you to quit Netherfield because they felt Jane was not good enough for you,” he said.
Mr. Bingley’s eyes darted nervously to William and back to her father. “They did suggest it, yes, sir. But I made my own decision. Caroline and Darcy were convinced that Jane was indifferent to my attentions. However, a few days ago, Darcy visited Bingley House and said he believed he had been wrong about Jane’s indifference. He encouraged me to seek her out. I left for Hertfordshire immediately for the sole purpose of ascertaining her feelings.”
Miss Bingley had shrunk back into her chair, as if hoping nobody would notice her. She had known where her brother had traveled and with what purpose, and yet…
But Elizabeth did not have enough room in her heart for anger at that moment. She turned to William. “You told him that?”
He nodded, still regarding her warily. “I wished to make amends. The fault was mine, so should the remedy be.”
“Oh, thank you!” In her haste to reach William, Elizabeth knocked over her chair, reaching the head of the table within seconds. She threw her arms around an astonished William, pulling his head down toward hers and kissing him thoroughly.
“Miss Bennet!” Mr. Bingley exclaimed in astonishment.
It was not a short kiss, either. It was deep and searching and passionate. William tightened his hold around her waist as Elizabeth snuggled in to his body. She could not bear to release him, depriving herself of his warmth. The kiss continued…
Her father loudly cleared his throat—twice. Miss Bingley sniffed her disapproval. Miss Darcy giggled.
“Ah, Darcy, perhaps there was something you neglected to mention to me?” Mr. Bingley’s voice was amused.
Elizabeth did not want the kiss to end, but she had something she needed to say. Their lips parted, but she did not release her grip on his arms. “Yes,” she said, holding his gaze steadily.
“Yes?” His brows drew together.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy, I will marry you.”
A broad grin spread across his face. “You were wrong, Elizabeth,” he said.
“About what?”
“You said you had not brought me a gift for Christmas, but yo
u have given me the best one of all.”
Epilogue
The dining room at Darcy House was very large, but it may never have hosted so many people before. The Bennets were visiting from Hertfordshire, and various Fitzwilliam relatives had arrived from Derbyshire. A number of Bingley’s friends and relatives were gathered around the table as well. The children were being served their food in the breakfast room. Darcy had been hearing laughter from that direction intermittently.
“Twelfth Night is a very auspicious day for a wedding, er, weddings!” Darcy’s new mother-in-law exclaimed loudly to the entire table of guests. Everyone nodded in agreement. It was at least the third time she had said the same thing; perhaps she had consumed a little too much of the wassail.
Mr. Bennet cajoled his wife back into her seat and poured her a cup of coffee. Now she was teary-eyed. “Two daughters married!” she exclaimed through her sobs. “And to such good men. We are blessed, Mr. Bennet.”
“Yes, we are, my dear,” he said in a low voice. “Please drink your coffee.”
Darcy glanced at his new wife, who rolled her eyes with a tolerant smile. Darcy smiled, too. He was far too happy today to allow Mrs. Bennet’s antics to annoy him. At the other end of the long table, Jane and Bingley—dressed in their wedding finery—were cooing at each other, oblivious to everyone around them.
Following his stare, Elizabeth laughed. “You would think they could stop gazing into each other’s eyes long enough to speak with a few guests at their own wedding breakfast.”
“I think Bingley believes he needs to make amends,” Darcy observed.
It was true that the other couple had been inseparable since they had been reunited. Richard had observed that their hasty marriage was a blessing, or they might anticipate their vows. Jane had blushed at the suggestion, and Bingley had dismissed it, but Darcy agreed with his cousin. Of course, only he and Elizabeth knew how dangerously close they were to anticipating their vows. The quick wedding had not been Bingley’s idea.
Darcy took his new wife’s hand and kissed it. “Have I told you that you are the most beautiful woman here today?”
“Yes,” she said with a laugh.
“Have I told you how lovely you look in your wedding gown?”
“Yes.”
“Have I told you I am eager for all the guests to depart so I may have you all to myself?”
“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth exclaimed in mock outrage.
Whatever rejoinder Darcy would have made was cut short when Mary Bennet rushed up to their seats. “I cannot find Lydia anywhere,” she said in a low tone.
Elizabeth sighed. Darcy could just imagine what kind of trouble Lydia could cause wandering loose in Darcy House, but he refused to allow it to spoil his good mood.
“Have you checked for any missing soldiers?” Elizabeth asked with a grin. “If there is a red coat nearby, she will be nearby.”
Darcy glanced about for Richard, but his cousin was sitting with his parents halfway down the table. Good. The last thing the man needed was to get entangled with Lydia.
“That is why I worry,” Mary replied. “Kitty swears she saw Mr. Wickham lurking about in the back hallway, but I did not think you would invite him.”
Now Darcy was alarmed. “Wickham? What would bring him here?” Nothing good.
Elizabeth clutched his arm. “We had better find Lydia before he causes more trouble.”
“Indeed,” Darcy growled, hurrying to his feet. He could handle Wickham, but it would be good to have help. Darcy caught Richard’s eye and nodded toward the door. Richard caught up with them in the hallway. Mary had fetched Mr. Bennet, apparently on the dubious premise that he might be of some help with Lydia.
Darcy explained the situation to everyone in low voices as they ventured into the front hallway. Richard grinned at the idea that he might have a chance to strike Wickham, but Mr. Bennet’s face was grave.
They did not have far to go. The group turned the corner and found Lydia—red-faced and teary-eyed—standing outside the door of the yellow drawing room. Elizabeth rushed up to her sister. “Lydia, what has occurred?”
“They told me to leave the room!” she wailed. “They said I was too young to hear.”
Elizabeth peered into her sister’s face. “Who did? Hear what?”
Lydia mopped her tears with the handkerchief Elizabeth handed her. “Mr. Wickham and M-Miss Bingley!” she sobbed. “They are in the drawing room talking, and they made me leave—and told me they would pay me not to tell anyone. But W-Wickham is in there with h-her—” She crossed her arms angrily, resembling a mature adult for a moment, before bursting into tears once more.
What was Miss Bingley doing with Wickham in the drawing room? How was she even familiar with the man? Darcy could not imagine. “Please return to the dining room and fetch Bingley,” he whispered in Mary’s ear. She nodded once and rushed away.
“What were they discussing?” Elizabeth asked Lydia.
“I do not know!” the girl wailed. Finally, Mr. Bennet stepped forward and drew his daughter to the side, trying awkwardly to comfort her.
Darcy and Richard joined Elizabeth at the closed door of the drawing room. “What could they possibly be doing?” Richard asked. Everyone exchanged puzzled glances.
Darcy was tempted to wash his hands of it. Miss Bingley had attempted to sabotage his relationship with Elizabeth; he would never have invited her today but could not have barred her from her own brother’s wedding. However, he could not ignore Wickham’s disturbing presence; he should not be in the house at all. No. Darcy sighed. They must discover what occurred in the yellow drawing room.
Bingley hurried up to them, trailed by Mary. “Caroline is closeted with Wickham?” he said hoarsely. “Why?”
Darcy shook his head. “I do not know, but I believe we must discover the truth.”
They could hear nothing but the murmur of voices through the thick wooden door, so Darcy eased it open just a crack. Fortunately, the hinges were well-oiled and did not creak.
“I will not pay you one more penny!” Miss Bingley screeched.
“I fulfilled my side of the bargain,” Wickham insisted. “I was engaged to Elizabeth Bennet.”
“For ten minutes!” Miss Bingley snapped. “It hardly signifies, and you have been amply rewarded for your pathetic efforts.”
Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged looks of alarm. Wickham had been paid to propose to her? But as Darcy considered the events of the previous weeks, a number of Wickham’s odd choices made more sense.
“I do not believe you thoroughly grasp the situation.” Wickham’s voice had turned silky. “It would be a shame if anyone found out what you paid me to do…”
Miss Bingley gasped. “That-That is blackmail!”
Beside Darcy, Bingley shook his head at his sister’s stupidity.
“Oh, dear me!” Wickham exclaimed in mock outrage. “Who do you think I am? You paid me to seduce a woman! You are not dealing with the Archbishop of Canterbury here.”
“Why, you—!” Miss Bingley screeched. Then there were sounds of a scuffle. Had she struck Wickham? Had he struck her? Darcy did not want her to come to harm.
He threw open the door, and all the listeners piled into the room. Darcy gasped at the sight that greeted them. Miss Bingley was sprawled on the floor, writhing under Wickham, who grinned as he pressed her hands to the carpet—preventing her from striking him.
“Caroline!” Bingley cried in alarm.
“Wickham!” Richard shouted.
The struggles stopped as both participants stared dumbfounded at the new arrivals. “I—We—Just—” Wickham babbled.
“He and I—We needed to—Remove yourself from my person!” Miss Bingley pushed ineffectively at Wickham, who appeared to rather enjoy his current position.
Other wedding guests, attracted by the commotion, were crowding the doorway. Darcy saw his aunt and uncle, Mr. Hurst, and Mr. Gardiner all watching curiously. Well, there was no hope of keeping this quiet.
Elizabeth must have reached the same conclusion. “Really!” she exclaimed. “If you wanted an assignation, did it have to occur during our wedding breakfast?”
Both Wickham and Miss Bingley gaped in horror before babbling denials: this was not an assignation, they were not doing anything illicit, this was merely a…
Unfortunately for them, their awkward situation rather belied any assertions of innocence. Wickham scrambled into a standing position, but everyone had seen him lying on top of Miss Bingley.
Finally, Darcy silenced the hubbub with a loud clearing of his throat. “If you were not meeting for an assignation,” he asked, “how did you come to be in my drawing room?”
They looked sidelong at each other but were unable to think of a response. The truth would be even worse than the lie Elizabeth had promoted.
Bingley trudged over to his sister and helped her to her feet. She brushed off her rumpled clothing indignantly and righted her be-feathered hat. Bingley turned to Wickham with a deep sigh. “I hope you are prepared to do the right thing.”
Wickham turned green. Miss Bingley cried, “No!” From her expression Bingley might as well have demanded she eat a plate of worms.
Bingley gave his sister an apologetic look. “Caroline, you have been compromised. You cannot marry anyone else.” Then he clapped Wickham on the shoulder. “Congratulations, man. She has a good dowry.” Wickham brightened momentarily but soured again at the sight of Miss Bingley’s expression.
“Charles, you cannot do this!” Miss Bingley shrieked.
“I have no choice,” Bingley said patiently.
Elizabeth and Darcy ushered people out of the room. This was a matter to be settled among Wickham, Bingley, and his sister. They hardly needed an audience.
One of the last people to leave the room was Mrs. Bennet, still a little tipsy. “There will be another wedding?” she exclaimed. “How wonderful! Christmastide is the time for them, you know.”
As the room emptied, Bingley spoke to his sister in low tones. She trembled with anger but nodded with great reluctance.
Finally, Bingley gave Wickham a meaningful look. The man cleared his throat and approached Miss Bingley without meeting her eyes. “Miss Bingley, would you do me the honor of—?”
Christmas at Darcy House Page 14