Mr Darcy's Struggle

by Martine J Roberts

  Elizabeth stood in shock for a moment. Such a cutting set down was not what she had expected. Clearly, the animosity between the two men ran deep. Curiously, both Charles and Caroline Bingley had intimated that George Wickham was a scoundrel though neither of them knew any particulars. Frustrated by his silence, she wondered if he would ever trust her enough to confide in her. It was all most vexing.

  A sudden gust of cold air made her shiver and she thought about returning to the house, but she suspected Jane and Charles would be engaged in more enjoyable pursuits than she had just endured. Another five minutes, she thought.

  “Come.”

  Mr Bennet called when he heard a rap on his study door, hoping it might be Jane or Lizzie come to keep him company. Mr Darcy was the last person he expected to cross the threshold.

  Rising from his chair, he extended his hand.

  “Why Mr Darcy, what brings you to Longbourn, as if I did not know. Are you chaperoning young Bingley with my Jane? And who will keep an eye on you and the fair Elizabeth, I wonder?” and he chuckled. “Sit yourself down lad. Shall I ring for tea or would you like something a little stronger?”

  “Good day sir,” Darcy replied while shaking Mr Bennet’s hand.

  He sat in the chair offered and was then momentarily distracted. His seat afforded him a view of the garden, and he could see Elizabeth walking between the rose bushes. Her thin jacket would afford her little protection from the cold air, he thought, as he watched the wind tug at her bonnet ribbons. A wave of remorse swept over him, and her words of reproach came back to haunt him, “If you had behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner …” She was right. He had abandoned her in the garden because he found her comments irksome.

  Mr Bennet, who had had his fill of tea over the last few days, hoped Darcy would opt for something a bit stronger.

  “A small brandy would be most warming, thank you, sir,” Darcy replied absently.

  “So lad, what can I do for you?” asked Mr Bennet as he passed a glass to Darcy.

  “Mr Bennet, I must first extend my apologies to you. I am unable to attend tomorrow's shoot. I am to travel to my estate in Derbyshire and escort my sister back to Netherfield. Charles has kindly bid her stay there until after the wedding.”

  “There will be other times of that I am sure. But come lad, that look tells me there is more on your mind than the shooting of a few cubbies.”

  Darcy emptied his glass in one gulp, and as he felt the smooth liquid heat his throat, he evoked the speech he had rehearsed.

  “Mr Bennet, with the upcoming nuptials between Elizabeth and myself, I understand there is a great deal to be done and purchased. I am also aware that, at my insistence, time is short. To ensure everything is done to an acceptable standard, and in the allotted time,” he paused briefly, “well it may become quite expensive.”

  If Mr Bennet knew where Darcy was going with this conversation, he showed no sign of it.

  Feeling mildly uncomfortable, Darcy squirmed in his chair.

  “Because of my position in society, and the relations I must invite, the expense is probably going to escalate quite considerably,” he flustered.

  He must know where this is leading, Darcy thought. He was unaccustomed to being the one made to feel awkward; it was usually the other way round! Mr Bennet’s countenance remained unchanged, and so Darcy blustered on.

  “And so, I have opened a line of credit with my bank for you to draw on to meet those extended costs. Elizabeth’s trousseau must reflect her new station in life as my wife and mistress of Pemberley. As should her mother, her sisters,” and feeling a touch more embarrassed, he added, “and her father.”

  Mr Bennet held up his hand to silence Darcy, he then rose, walked to the door and opened it.

  “Hill, another bottle of brandy if you please,” he shouted.

  The two men looked at each other, Darcy with nervous apprehension and Mr Bennet with a bemused smile.

  “I think this could well be a two bottle discussion. Well, lad, that was the most eloquent of speeches, but I must confess the best bit was watching you squirm. Having just paid to send four of my ladies to Brighton, all garbed in the latest fashion, I confess it has put a strain on my purse. And I confess, it is a while since I visited the outfitters, so, I accept your offer with thanks. There now, we are in accord are we not, and no one need be the wiser. Agreed?” he chuckled and offered Darcy, his hand.

  Darcy relieved that he had survived the uncomfortable interview unscathed, drained his glass, and then stood to shake his future father-in-law’s hand.

  “Agreed,” he said.

  CHAPTER 11

  Darcy was in no mood to seek Elizabeth out before he returned to Netherfield. Now sitting at the desk in his chamber, Darcy recalled their parting words. Damn Wickham! Once more he had come between Elizabeth and him. He could not blame Elizabeth for seeing no fault in Wickham; she had heard only his honeyed words on their dealings together. He ruefully admitted that only his pride, and silence on the matter, had let Wickham divide them. If he had taken the opportunity to enlighten Elizabeth as to Wickham’s true character, she would understand why there was no place in his heart for forgiveness. This error on his part must be rectified, and before his departure for Pemberley. He could not bear for Elizabeth to think ill of him, or worse, that he was angry with her.

  Opening the desk drawer, he retrieved paper, ink and a quill. He would put down on paper what he could not bring himself to speak. Choosing his words with care, he began to write Elizabeth a letter, detailing his dealings with George Wickham.

  Netherfield

  Hertfordshire

  Saturday 9th November 1811

  My Dearest Elizabeth,

  This morning, after we had parted, I reflected on what had transpired between us, and I must conclude that I have done you a great injustice. I have expected you to be understanding, in a matter of which I have given you no details. Because of this, you have only the word of George Wickham to testify as to his dealings with my family and me. Therefore, I have decided to share my confidence with you.

  It is true that Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, my father’s late steward, who managed Pemberley for many years. My father was proud to be his godfather and treated him as a son. He paid for his education and sending him to Cambridge with me. There, I observed his behaviour to be both licentious, and unrestrained but said nothing to either my father or his. One day, he declared to my father he would like to take holy orders, so when my own excellent father died five years ago, he recommended in his will that a living be made available to him, along with a one-thousand-pound legacy. His own father did not survive past half a year after mine. It was at this time, Wickham informed me he had decided against joining the Church, and he hoped to study law, instead. He asked me to recompense him for the living promised, which I duly did, to the sum of three thousand pounds. I wished, rather than believed him sincere. All connections between our two families now seemed dissolved. He went to live in town and lead a life of idleness and dissipation. That is where our connection should have ended.

  Two years ago, he heard that the living that could have been his was now free, and he again petitioned me for it, which I denied. Not only had he already been handsomely compensated for it, but I had interviewed and offered the position, to a more suitable, and experienced curate. At my refusal to acquiesce, his verbal abuse toward me was most violent, which only confirmed my resolve. He then disappeared and again, all ties were severed.

  Darcy briefly broke off from his writing; he must phrase the next sentences with care so as not to cause Elizabeth offence or to besmirch his sister’s character. It pained him greatly to recall these events, but they must be told.

  He continued writing.

  I know I can trust on your discretion, for what I am about to impart is of the most delicate nature. As you know, I have one sister, Georgiana, who is more than ten years, my junior. Her guardianship was entrusted to me and my cousin, Colonel Richa
rd Fitzwilliam. A year and some months ago, when her official schooling came to an end, I set up an establishment for her by the sea. I then hired a lady to oversee it, one Mrs Younge. A woman whose character I was greatly deceived about. Last summer, they journeyed to Ramsgate to take the air for a few weeks. It was whilst here they met up with none other than George Wickham, prearranged between the two accomplices. Over the next few weeks, they convinced Georgiana she was in love with him, and regrettably, she agreed to an elopement. She was then but fifteen. Fortunately, I decided to join her three days earlier than arranged, and thus stumbled across their plan. Georgiana, not wanting to hurt, or distress a much-loved brother, confessed all.

  I have no doubt his object was twofold, Georgiana’s thirty-thousand-pound fortune, and to seek revenge on me. Had his plan come to fruition, his revenge would have been complete indeed. Upon me making it quite clear he would not see one penny of her money, he left. I had not seen him since, until my arrival in Meryton.

  This is a faithful narrative of all my dealings with George Wickham, but should you require further confirmation of the events I have described, you may contact Col. Fitzwilliam, who can bear witness to all I have said.

  So you see, my dearest Elizabeth, why the mere mention of George Wickham gives me cause for concern. If he has set the poisonous seed of doubt in your mind in regards to me, can I ever, fully remove it?

  Yours affectionately,

  Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  He sealed the letter and called for Fletcher, his valet. It had grown dark while he had been writing, but he must see Elizabeth tonight and place it safely in her hands. He quickly changed his clothes and then set off to see Elizabeth for the second time that day.

  Although Longbourn was only three miles from Netherfield, the distance could not be crossed fast enough for Darcy. The winter moon lit his path, and he urged his horse on. Having arrived at his destination, Darcy silently guided his horse across the immaculate lawns.

  At the edge of the gravel path, he dismounted and let the reins fall to the ground. Standing back from the house, in the shadow of a tree, he took stock of the situation. Candlelight was visible in two of the bedroom windows, and one downstairs window. He assumed due to the lateness of the hour, that the women had retired, and that it was Mr Bennet who was still abroad the house. He knew Elizabeth’s room was to the front of the house, but which one was it? If he got Jane’s room in error, would she give him away or be compliant and procure Elizabeth for him?

  Time for action he thought and picked up a few small pebbles from the path. Gently he tossed them against the window of the first bedroom, before taking a step nearer the building, to hide in the shadows. As he waited to see who came to the window, he shook his head and mentally chided himself. ‘Good grief man, if your friends and peers could see you now, skulking about in the shrubbery like a lovesick schoolboy, why you’d be the laughing stock of polite society.’ Still, he couldn’t help but smile at his predicament.

  After a few minutes, he saw Elizabeth’s face appear at the window, and he moved out of the shadows to catch her attention. The look of shock at seeing him there was evident on her face, but she quickly masked it and put her finger to her lips, in silent entreaty. She signalled she would come down and then disappeared from view. He had almost given up hope when she suddenly appeared from around the side of the house. She motioned for him to follow her, and then turned and retraced her steps. Making haste to catch up with her, he instinctively offered her his arm. She ignored his gesture and walked on at an even faster pace. Arriving at the door of a large glasshouse, Elizabeth entered, and after a quick glance over his shoulder, Darcy followed.

  The not unpleasant odour of damp earth and ripened vegetables swept over them as they moved deeper into the building. When Elizabeth was sure the foliage was tall enough to conceal them, she rounded on him with fire in her eyes.

  “Mr Darcy! Firstly, we are not in a ballroom or polite company now. Offering me your arm while we furtively wander about the garden, after a time when most respectable country folk are abed, is not necessary. And secondly, what can you be thinking? My reputation, should we have been observed, will be in tatters. And, I have yet to return to the house undetected,” she scolded.

  Darcy’s face, illuminated by the moonlight, wore a broad smile. Before she could reiterate the seriousness of their situation, he took her hand and said,

  “Dearest Elizabeth, I hope you will scold me often when we are wed, for the fire it brings to your eyes could warm a man’s heart,” and he raised her hand to place a lingering kiss on it.

  Well! Thought Elizabeth; now severely annoyed. Not only had he summoned her in the most furtive manner imaginable, but he seemed openly happy at their predicament.

  Darcy placed a further clutch of kisses on her wrist, and when she felt the familiar tingle of excitement, where his lips caressed her naked skin, her anger evaporated.

  Her body had a habit of betraying her whenever she was near to Mr Darcy, and already the effect of such a simple act had ignited a heat in her cheeks that was evident to him. Darcy drank in the sight of his beloved and every fibre of his being ached for her. His desire had increased over the past weeks, and with her dark locks falling down past her shoulders, and the red bow of her lips invitingly parted, it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms. The memory of why he had instigated this meeting gave him reason to rein in his desire.

  He retrieved the letter he’d taken such pains to write and offered it to her.

  Elizabeth looked down at the missive and listened as Darcy made his apology.

  “My behaviour this morning was unforgivable, and by way of explanation, I have drafted this letter to answer your questions. I realise protocol dictates you refuse it, and if I could confer its contents to you in any other way, I would, but I find the subject matter hard to talk of. Would you do me the honour of reading it while I am away?” he asked.

  “Away sir, you are taking a journey?” she enquired, absently taking the letter and tucking it into her dressing gown pocket.

  “I leave at first light for Pemberley. I must have my sister by my side when we marry, and I prefer to escort her myself. That is why I had to see you tonight. I could not leave without offering you an explanation. Besides, this way I can tell her all about you,” he said with a playful twinkle in his eye. “You will like Georgiana; I am sure of it.”

  “I am sure I will. How long will you be gone?” she enquired, trying to mask her disappointment at him leaving again so soon.

  “Five days, certainly no more than a week.”

  Hopefully the lesser, he thought. I have little enough time to win your heart, dearest Elizabeth, I cannot afford to be absent for too long.

  “I understand she is about Lydia’s age, would you liken her to one of my younger sisters, or maybe Charlotte Collins?” she asked.

  Elizabeth needed a few minutes to absorb that he would be gone for a full week. Realising she would actually miss him was something of a shock to her.

  “Heavens no!” he said before apologising for his outburst.

  “I beg your pardon. If I had to encapsulate her character, I would say she is a younger version of, Jane,” he answered triumphantly.

  “Then I am sure I will like her very well,” Elizabeth smiled.

  They stood awkwardly in silence for a minute or two, Elizabeth looking around at the colourless vegetation, purposely avoiding his gaze while Darcy stared at her unabashedly. As the silence stretched on, she risked a glance in his direction, then realised her mistake instantly. Darcy wore his desire like a beacon, and it was a look she had come to recognise.

  Hastily she said,

  “It is quite late Mr Darcy, and if I should be discovered here, alone, with you in my night attire, we will be forced to marry on the morrow. Let us say farewell, and therein I wish you a safe and speedy journey, sir.”

  “I would not care if we were discovered; in fact, I would welcome it. To be wed tomorrow, to quench th
is fire that rages in my veins, to possess the thing I most desire. No, I would not object to being discovered, my love,” he said tenderly.

  As he spoke, he traced a finger up her arm, stopping only to brush a wayward curl from her shoulder. The soft, milky flesh it had been hiding was now exposed.

  Mesmerised, Elizabeth watched as Darcy lowered his head and gently caressed the curve of her neck with a soft kiss. His touch was like a drug, exquisite and intoxicating while making her yearn for more. She tilted her head to the side, allowing him access to roam further while absently clutching his sides to steady herself. She savoured the heat of his breath on her skin, just before the touch of his lips made it burn with pleasure.

  Encouraged, Darcy moved to taste her mouth, and he claimed her lips while guiding her arms around his neck. Folding her in his embrace, he instinctively let his hands dip down to pull her closer, stopping only when their bodies connected. He explored the warmth of her mouth with his tongue and delighted in her welcoming response.

  Daringly, he stroked the hollow of her back and then boldly explored further, over the curve of her buttocks. Shocked, but driven by desire, she arched herself against him. Yearning for more, Elizabeth pulled his head down and returned his demanding kiss, with a fervent all of her own. Happy to oblige, and lost to his needs, he raised a hand and through the soft cotton fabric, he gently cupped her breast. Elizabeth’s body throbbed with a longing she had never experienced before, a craving for his attention to those secret places no man had ever touched, yet she would have willingly surrendered them to him tonight.

  Darcy had long suspected Elizabeth would be a willing pupil and a passionate lover, and tonight her response had confirmed this. She let out a moan of approval as he drew her tighter to him, all the while whispering her name,

  “Elizabeth, Elizabeth.”

  Darcy knew he must stop; for soon he would be at the point of no return. Yes, he could bring them both untold pleasure tonight, but in the morning, she would hate him, and rightly so. To take advantage of Elizabeth’s naivety was abhorrent to him. Mustering all his resolution, he slowly broke their kiss and rested his forehead on hers. Reluctantly, he removed her arms from about his neck and held them to his breast. In a ragged voice, he murmured,