by Beth Massey
He was convinced Wickham had preyed on Lydia Bennet to even the score with him. It was part of an ongoing rivalry that had existed since their teens, and later had degenerated into a battle for revenge. This new chapter in their struggle had been prompted by his disappointment on the occasion of the death of George Darcy.
His callous disregard for others in his pursuit had almost crushed Georgiana’s happiness; and now Lydia Bennet’s fate would certainly destroy her life, while simultaneously disgracing the entire Bennet family—her sisters in particular. The reason for convincing Lydia to elope was not as it had been with Georgiana, about gaining a dowry. No, he could only surmise… he viciously wanted to ruin her. Even with Georgiana, Wickham’s plan had been designed to produce two results. One was certainly to get his hands on her thirty thousand pounds; but the other had been to punish her brother.
Fitzwilliam Darcy spoke aloud; and to accentuate his resolve and anger he threw a cup from the tray at the fireplace. “Wickham, your scheme will not be successful, I am determined nothing will stand in the way of my happiness with Elizabeth. I will hunt you to the ends of the earth and force you to do the right thing.”
Darcy’s mind kept coming back to something Belly had once told him—some of the brothels paid bounties for ruined young ladies of quality. One who had been gently bred was a more exciting commodity to the customers, and collected higher revenues. The younger they were, the more they would fetch. So many men entertained the fantasy of being a maiden’s first, and it enhanced their pleasure to believe she was that which was most forbidden by their society… a virgin of quality.
For a moment he diverted his attention from his plan, to the remembrance of shared laughter with Belly as she described exactly how the doctor was able to provide that illusion, within the same young woman over and over and over.
He had never been fond of Lydia Bennet, but he had to admit she was quite attractive. A study in contrasts, she had sleek dark hair, alabaster skin, and very pale eyes that were alternately, hazel, green, or grey depending on her clothing or the light. All together they produced an unusual and striking combination. She was tall and her body was very womanly at fifteen. While it was true, she would not fulfil the fantasies of those who liked the look of childlike innocence, her uniqueness captured the eye, and outwardly, her body spoke of ample delights concealed by clothing. If you added to her physical attributes the fact that her demeanour was bold, and would encourage those prospective customers who wanted the opposite of the shrinking violets that were their wives, she would be a sought after commodity. Darcy shuddered at the idea; Lydia Bennet, despite her silliness, did not deserve such a fate.
Mrs Teasewell would not pay a bounty, but she might know who would. She ran an establishment that catered to men of the highest circles. Far from Covent Garden, her elegant house was in a secluded corner on the outskirts of Mayfair—not far from Green Park and Curzon Chapel. Her discreet concern was run much more like a clandestine club. No customer was accepted without a recommendation by an existing customer, and the clients had to be willing to submit to an examination of their genitalia by her resident physician before seeing one of her women. The privacy, exclusivity and cleanliness encouraged gentlemen of quality to bring their sons to be initiated.
Her women also came to her by referral from gentlemen, and even sometimes gentlewomen of her acquaintance. Most of her girls came from the country after having been disgraced in some way. Many had given birth to a child out of wedlock, others had been compromised and were unable or unwilling to marry, and finally there were the surprising number of young women—girls really—who had been subjected to abuse at the hand of a father, relative or guardian. These were women from respected families that were in need of a way to survive once their stigma had forced them from home.
While in London, he would visit Mrs Teasewell’s, and gather suggestions for detecting whether this possibility was part of Wickham’s scheme. Mrs Younge could again be a likely accomplice as she had been in Georgiana’s almost elopement. He and Bingley would leave soon after the Gardiners and Lizzy left tomorrow morning. Georgiana and Mrs Annesley would follow as soon as possible with Miss Bingley and the Hursts. While he could not tell his sister the exact nature of his errand, he did not want to force her to entertain Bingley’s sisters without his assistance. Darcy house would allow her some relief from their company, while he resolved this delay in their trip to Hertfordshire. His need to end this war with Wickham was the first priority in consolidating his own joy with Elizabeth; but helping his sister to achieve happiness was a close second.
Lizzy had told him of speaking to Wickham after her return from Hunsford. He had questioned her and gained the knowledge of their seeing each other often while in Kent. In addition, she had hinted her awareness of the truth of his denied living complaint. No one had told him of his or her attraction, but somehow Wickham had deduced what existed between them. Darcy’s anger at seeing him talking to her in Meryton was probably his first clue, and surely their dance at the ball had become fodder for the local gossips.
He was worried about Lizzy. No matter how hard he had tried earlier, she would neither talk to him nor even look at him in any significant way. Her avoidance forced him to ask Mr Gardiner for a word alone. He was glad he had arranged for a private parlour when Lizzy had been so distraught. His revelation to Mr Gardiner required they be protected from prying ears. Lizzy and her aunt soon left to prepare for their journey to London. In parting, all she said with an insincere smile was, “Goodbye Mr Darcy. Thank you for your hospitality.”
When he was alone with his betrothed’s uncle, he began his confession. “Mr Gardiner, I was planning to go to Hertfordshire as soon as you and your wife and Miss Elizabeth left Derbyshire. Mr Bingley and my sister were to accompany me. The staff at Netherfield have been alerted of our impending visit. My reason for going was to ask Mr Bennet for permission to court Miss Elizabeth. Mr Bingley also planned to reopen his acquaintance with Miss Bennet with similar hopes.”
“Does Elizabeth know of your intentions?”
“Yes, this was the topic we discussed the day I found her at Pemberley in the rain. What you do not know is that I proposed to her in Kent. I spoke of love; but was equally elegant in describing my struggle to overcome my objections to her inferiority and the degradation of connecting myself with her family… your family.” Mr Gardiner’s mouth dropped open at Darcy’s revelation. His look of incredulity caused Darcy to buy some time. He paused and then cleared his throat before he began again. “You are the third person I have told of my proposal in the last few days; and you, Mr Bingley and my sister have all had the same look of disbelief that I could be so unfeeling. By the time I tell Mr Bennet, I will not even flinch at his disapproval.”
Mr Gardiner’s shocked look was replaced by a grin he could not repress, and he chuckled at this overly serious young man and said, “I am certain my brother will react quite differently. He will find the circumstances of your admission and your discomfort most enjoyable. My guess is he will want to know all the particulars of your words, and require you to detail your prejudices.”
Darcy had a slight look of panic, but he continued none the less, “As I said, I did speak of love, and I put forward my misgivings with a great deal of passion because of the magnitude of my feelings for her. As I can see by the shaking of your head, you agree with my subsequent evaluation, that it was hardly language to recommend my suit. Among other things, her refusal impeached my character for a lack of gentlemanlike behaviour, and she rightly accused me of separating Miss Bennet from Mr Bingley. However, she wrongly charged me with denying Mr Wickham a living.” Darcy paused again and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I know what I am about to tell you indicates a major breach of propriety on my part, but I could think of no other way to set the record straight. I saw him as a danger to Miss Elizabeth, despite being rejected; I felt the need to both protect her and to justify my behaviour. I wrote her a letter to give her the details of t
he dealings between Mr Wickham and my family.”
Mr Gardiner did not look particularly shocked by the disclosure, but he also lowered his voice. “Mr Darcy, why are you telling me about your proposal, her refusal and your letter? These are private things between you and Elizabeth. You need not tell me.”
“I have two reasons for my confession to you. The first is that I would like to help in your family’s quest to find your niece. I believe I can be an important resource in that endeavour. Mr Wickham and I grew up together. Somehow, he has learned of my affection for Miss Elizabeth. I believe he hopes to ruin Miss Lydia, and the Bennet family, as an act of revenge against me. One year ago, he persuaded my sister to elope with him. I happened upon them in the nick of time, and luckily, Georgiana confessed everything to me. He only wanted her sizable dowry. He did not love her.” Darcy stopped, closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. The pain his disclosure released was etched into his face.
Mr Gardiner saw his anguish and felt compassion for him. He gently asked, “What is the second reason?”
Darcy’s next words were choked out. His mouth was dry, but his eyes were wet with unshed tears. “Something is wrong with Elizabeth. She will not even look at me. She is acting as though her family’s reputation is already lost, and does not seem to trust the depth of my love. I fear she thinks I will abandon her. We have talked through my interference and my demeaning words, and it was my hope I had made her believe in the strength of my attachment. Mr Gardiner, due to her withdrawal, I was unable to tell her of my plan to go to London to assist you and Mr Bennet. Had I disclosed the unsavoury nature of Mr Wickham when I was in Hertfordshire, I could have prevented this catastrophe. I was too proud to share my knowledge of his perfidy.” With a violent shake of his head, he concluded. “It was nobody’s business but my own, and I cared not a whit what havoc he might wreak on others.”
Darcy stared off into space. Finally he added, “I am certain, Mr Bingley and my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who shares guardianship of my sister with me, would also be available to help. However, no disclosure of what has happened will be forthcoming unless you give me permission.”
“I will tell my brother Bennet of your offer. He will wonder why you are an interested party to his daughter’s dilemma. I suggest you reveal the reason for your need to provide assistance to him just as you have with me. Given the circumstances, I doubt he will derive his usual pleasure from your confession. You should visit us in Gracechurch Street as soon as possible upon your arrival. Elizabeth is needed at home. We will go directly from here to Longbourn and pick up our children before we return to London.”
“I will be here to see you off tomorrow morning. Do you plan to leave at dawn?”
“Yes. Mr Darcy.” His voice took on a consoling quality. “I have seen the looks you and Elizabeth exchange when you think no one is looking. My wife and I were certain there would soon be an engagement between you. Give her time. I suspect after resting she will return to her indomitable spirit. She is feisty, and will not give up on her family’s reputation so easily. Tomorrow she will be asking questions and making suggestions. You have met my nieces—our Lizzy is not a passive one—like our dear Jane. She is as bold as Lydia, but much wiser, less flighty and very aware of the consequences of improper behaviour.”
Darcy hoped his face did not betray the anguish he felt at Lizzy’s uncle’s last statement. “I will see you at first light, sir.” He shook Mr Gardiner’s hand and left the inn to return to Pemberley. As he walked through the lobby of the Rose and Crown, he heard whispers about his presence.
Elizabeth was alone in her room lying fully clothed on the bed—head throbbing from too many tears. Somehow she had finished packing, and was now trying to decide what she should do about Will. Earlier, she had been unable to meet his gaze or talk to him. It was as though a fog of fear and loathing had enshrouded her upon reading Jane’s letters. Her ability to speak had been lost in a haze of hopelessness. She had wanted to reply to him, but none of the responses her mind formulated made sense. All her answers seemed designed to beg for forgiveness. As she had attempted to form words, graphic images of her wanton behaviour forced their way into her mind. Mary would have every right to condemn her as the harlot of Proverbs—even without knowing she had enticed Mr Darcy with her bare backside to fornicate. The gravity of her situation had finally overwhelmed her as she placed Georgiana’s gift into her box. The childlike innocence of the crayon drawing of Pemberley’s lake with a pair of swans—mates forever—was lost to her both physically and metaphorically. He had said it was a degradation to be connected with her family, and she had bristled at his words. Now, she and Lydia had proven him correct beyond a doubt. Finally with her task completed, she lay on the bed and tried to make a plan… a plan that would allow her to communicate to him her release.
She knew she should leave Georgiana’s drawing with the letter she planned to write, but could not. Giving him up was only possible if she could retain some pleasure in her recollection of that day. Her behaviour in the cottage had been a blasphemy against God, but it had been a magical delight of the flesh. God certainly knew what he was doing when he designed his tests for humans. Perhaps she would be allowed redemption if she promised to remain celibate, and allow Will to marry a woman worthy of his love. He was blameless, and would never have given in if she had not displayed her allurements before him in such a lurid way. Her prayers would be for his soul; which had surely been unblemished until she tempted him.
No, there could be no forgiveness for her. She had read the Divine Comedy, those whose sin was lust were assigned to the Second Circle of hell… to be blown to and fro by a violent storm without any hope of rest. She remembered Achilles was there, as was Dido the queen of Carthage that Virgil wrote about in the Aeneid. Maybe the sculpture with the beautiful bottom was Dido; and Lizzy’s punishment had been foretold the minute her cravings had been awakened that day in the gallery. Since there was no absolution for the crime of wantonness, she determined the proper course was to retain her memories as a warning and pay the price for her sins upon death.
The twist of hair in her locket would never leave her neck, and the larger curl in the paper with the depiction of the cottage, would remain close for her to caress. Georgiana’s picture would hang on her wall, and remind her of what might have been.
Rising, she moved to the desk and began to write. She laboured to find the exact words to express her regard, her remorse, her regrets and her release. Balancing the different sentiments was her goal… the acceptance of her culpability, the acknowledgement of the ignominy of her and her family, and the admittance of her deep and abiding love—to the exclusion of all others—she would always have for him. As he read her letter, he must realize it was a far, far, better thing she did to break their betrothal.
When completed, she signed and sealed the letter; and set it aside to be delivered to Pemberley tomorrow. She was weary, and knowing they would leave at dawn, she readied herself for bed in order to sleep for at least a few hours.
The minute she closed her eyes, images from the cottage drifted into view. There behind her eyelids hovered his mouth beckoning her, his broad shoulders, and his muscular arms lifting her up as though she was a feather. These visions in her mind’s eye activated her imagination, and soon she was imagining licking him and could almost taste the slight saltiness of his chest. She shivered with the recollection of the feel of the tight buds—currants she had called them—of his nipples as she suckled. Next her mind was tracing the outline of his navel with her fingertips and watching his arousal lengthen from her caresses. She smiled as she fantasized it standing at attention waiting for her to squeeze it once inside.
Her pleasure had been uppermost in his mind in the cottage, and oh, how it touched her heart when she remembered his concern for the pain she might endure. She wondered whether all men were as considerate, and became certain the answer was no. What a lucky woman his wife would be.
Her fingers found th
e spot, as they had on numerous occasions before. Somehow now, she knew it was wrong to touch herself, given her plans for her life, but her desire was too great. She was already destined to face the tempest of the Second Circle of hell, so why not indulge one last time. As she lay in the dark, she fingered her nub and tried to remember the feel of him inside her. The urgency of his thrusts was relived as her body readied itself for the climax of tingling, tightening, and shuddering. Released by the ritual of pleasure, the tears came again, until she literally cried herself to sleep, as so many heroines had in novels she had read.
Darcy was waiting in the common room at the Rose and Crown when the Gardiners and Elizabeth came down the stairs. She was not expecting to see him. Her mouth opened and closed several times as she attempted to speak to him. Finally, she said, “Good morning, Mr Darcy. I did not expect to see you this morning.”
“I would not allow you to leave without saying goodbye. You were very distraught yesterday, and I was unable to tell you of my intention to leave today for London to assist your father and uncle.”
Elizabeth looked confused by his news. Nothing was going according to her plan. She reached into her pocket and handed him the letter. “I was going to have this sent to Pemberley. It contains my apologies to your sister for not saying a proper goodbye.”
Will saw that it was not addressed to Georgiana but to him. He decided to go along with her disguise. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I am certain my sister will appreciate your explanation. Both of us hope to see you soon in Hertfordshire, once this business with Wickham is resolved.”
Elizabeth looked as though she were about to cry and unsure what to say in reply to his intentions to return to Hertfordshire. Hopefully, her letter would dissuade him. She curtseyed and led the procession outside to the carriage. He helped her inside and waited while the Gardiners entered. Before Mr Gardiner climbed in, he handed Darcy a paper with his address. The two men shook hands, and Will reiterated his aim to call at Gracechurch Street shortly after his arrival in London.