Coincidence

by Jann Rowland

  The murderous fury which beset Mr. Wickham’s face told a far different story than his bravado would indicate. It also showed Elizabeth more about the man than he had ever revealed to her with his congenial manners and syrupy words. Belatedly, perhaps, Elizabeth recognized that this was not a man to be trusted.

  “Though it grieves me more than I can say,” said Mr. Wickham, addressing Elizabeth, “I must assume that you have chosen the man who can shower you with riches, Miss Bennet. I had thought better of you.”

  “Go, Wickham!” commanded Mr. Darcy. “Do not bother the Bennets again.”

  With a great show of casual unconcern, Mr. Wickham bowed and walked away. Elizabeth, however, noticed that his back was rigid as he did so, a testament to his seething anger. Whether it was directed at her or Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth could not say.

  “I thank you for your intervention, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, once Mr. Wickham had disappeared. “He was proving as persistent as a leech, and I could not rid myself of him.”

  The sound of her words drew Mr. Darcy’s eyes to her. For a moment, he did not say anything, seeming to consider her and the scoundrel who had just disappeared. But soon he bowed and said:

  “It is no trouble, Miss Bennet. It seems I have been running Mr. Wickham off the entirety of my adult life. Given the way you reacted to him, I trust you have discovered his true nature for yourself.”

  Elizabeth regarded the man with exasperation, and she stood before him, arms akimbo. “I believe I have, Mr. Darcy. But I wonder that you, with your apparent knowledge of him, have not seen fit to inform the community of what you know of him.”

  “Would you have listened to me?” asked he, not without heat in his voice.

  Taken aback by his accusation, Elizabeth answered slowly, feeling that she had no choice but to confess the truth. “I might not have given credit to your assertions in full. But I like to think it might have instilled a measure of suspicion.” Then Elizabeth turned a more critical eye on her companion. “Tell me, Mr. Darcy—is it not the responsibility of a gentleman to ensure that those of his acquaintance are not taken in by a rake, when he can prevent it?”

  This time it was Mr. Darcy’s turn to stop and frown. “Should he be expected to do so when someone close to him might be injured?”

  Thinking back to Mr. Wickham’s words, Elizabeth was struck by something he had said, and she knew that Georgiana’s reticent demeanor was likely due to something more than simple shyness.

  “Your sister’s reputation must be of concern, of course,” replied Elizabeth, not wishing to allow him to defend his actions. “But surely you must agree that such communications do not need to be accompanied by explicit information. Given what I have discovered, I cannot but suppose that Mr. Wickham’s sins are of a wider variety than simply whatever injury he dealt to Georgiana.”

  “Perhaps you are correct,” conceded Mr. Darcy. “But it still is not something I would speak of without due consideration.”

  “Please, Mr. Darcy. Will you not tell me? You know your sister’s reputation is safe with me. But I would protect my sisters to the best of my ability, and I cannot do so effectively without knowing of what his faults consist.”

  There was, Darcy decided nothing to be done other than to accede to her request, as it was nothing less than reasonable. Now that she had spoken of it in such a fashion, Darcy knew that she was correct. He had failed in his duties as a gentleman, and it took a small slip of a girl—one with whom he was not so coincidentally in love—to remind him of his responsibilities.

  And so, he made the communication which he knew was long overdue, informing her exactly what kind of man the community had accepted into their midst. He spoke of Wickham’s childhood at Pemberley, how they had been friends who had slowly drifted apart, the increasingly rough and aggressive games in which Wickham had engaged, and how those slowly changed to the unsavory vices he possessed as an adult. He informed her of Wickham’s time in school, the debauchery, the gaming, the debts he had incurred, how he had been left the Kympton living, how he had been compensated for not taking it. And he had even informed her of Georgiana meeting him at Ramsgate—there was little else to be done, after all, as Wickham had so imprudently spoken of it and incited Miss Bennet’s suspicions.

  When he had finished his recitation, he looked to Miss Bennet to see if she had disbelieved him. All he found was sorrow and compassion.

  “I am sorry, Mr. Darcy,” said she, an expression of true contrition upon her face. “I was so ready to believe every word the man said, even to the extent of thinking your sister was proud and disagreeable.”

  “He spoke of Georgiana in such a manner?” asked Darcy. He was ready to hunt Wickham down and call him out on the spot.

  “Only once, sir,” said Miss Bennet, her manner suggesting a faint sense of embarrassment. “And it was only when I asked him about her. Most of the charges he made were concerning you in particular. I have no idea why he thought it necessary, but it seems that he was particularly eager to sink you in my estimation, though I had already managed to think the worst of you on my own.”

  Darcy was uncomfortable at her admission, but he decided to ignore it for the present. “I am quite accustomed to being subjected to Mr. Wickham’s accusations. Of course, those accusations only make sense to Wickham and those who know nothing of the true situation.”

  “Which is why they need to be informed, Mr. Darcy. I can understand why you would not wish to speak of Georgiana, and I would not expect you to. But you are aware of what a man such as Mr. Wickham might do to a small community such as this.”

  “Your criticisms are well spoken, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy, feeling ashamed to once again be found wanting by this woman. Would he never make a good impression upon her?

  A sigh instead of further condemnation met his words. “Mr. Wickham is not your responsibility, sir. I would never dream of asserting such a thing, as he is obviously a man full grown and in possession of the ability to do whatever he will with his life.”

  “He is,” replied Darcy. “But my duty as a gentleman is clear. I will speak with your father concerning Mr. Wickham.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Miss Bennet.

  Darcy looked about and took stock of their surroundings. The path they were on was much like the area in which they had met, but it seemed they had wandered from the site of their initial meeting. The wood was still quiet, however, and a quick glance around suggested that there was little chance of them being seen. He looked down at Miss Bennet, noting a slight movement, only to see the dry smile she directed at him.

  “I believe you have little to fear for our reputations, Mr. Darcy,” said she. “In a location such as this, I doubt we would be seen by anyone other than a tenant farmer, and even they will not venture to such paths. And my father’s woodsman is an elderly man, content to rest his old bones in front of the fire at his cottage. We are quite safe.”

  “That is a relief,” said Darcy, “though you must not think that I would be concerned, even for a moment, should we be forced to marry to save our reputations.”

  Shocked, Miss Bennet looked up at him through wide eyes.

  “Of course,” replied he, gazing at her through soft eyes, “I realize you would not welcome such an eventuality. It is fortunate, then, as I was not paying any heed to my surroundings.”

  “Perhaps one of us should pay attention to such niceties,” replied Miss Bennet. Then, he suspected for want of anything else to say, she regarded him, a frown upon her face. “Might I ask why you are here? I had not expected to see you in Hertfordshire.”

  “You may ask,” said Darcy, fixing her with a mysterious smile, “but I may choose not to answer.”

  It seemed like his teasing did not produce the reaction he had hoped for, as her eyes narrowed and she looked on him with severity written on her countenance.

  “All shall be explained, Miss Bennet,” said he, hurrying to reassure her. “I will visit Longbourn today, and you will understand.
”

  Though she seemed to wish to further question him, she sensed that he would not be induced to respond, and subsided accordingly. They parted soon after. Darcy should have been heartened when she looked back at him several times as she walked away, but he was struck by the thought that he was as far as he had ever been from claiming her heart.

  When Darcy had informed his family of his intention to repair to Netherfield with Bingley, the reactions had been amused, teasing, and predictable. He also sensed, however, that they had been relieved, and he supposed he could not blame them—his behavior of late had been nothing less than sullen, and he supposed they wished the best for him, notwithstanding their manner of making their wishes known.

  The afternoon after their arrival, as they made their way from Netherfield to Longbourn, he was treated to more of the same, though this time it was with Bingley in attendance. Fortunately, for Darcy’s peace of mind, the sisters had stayed in London, and from what Bingley had said, the blowout between them had been spectacular and Miss Bingley’s accusations of his betraying his father’s wishes melodramatic. For his part, Bingley had accused her of using his father’s wishes to browbeat him into doing as she wished. Undoubtedly, the discussion had gone downhill from that point.

  “I have never seen such an utter disregard for the feelings of others,” Bingley had confided the next day. “I have always known Caroline was selfish and spoiled, but I must say the depths to which she descended surprised me.”

  Darcy was not about to say anything concerning his friend’s sister—he could rightly have been accused of selfishness himself, so it was nothing less than hypocritical for him to decry it in another. But Bingley appeared not to notice.

  “You have been no less than a saint, Darcy, to have put up with her airs as you did. I do appreciate it. You will not be forced to do so any longer, or at least as much as I have the power to prevent it.”

  Frowning, Darcy asked: “Do you speak of something in particular?”

  “Just that any invitations I receive from you will now no longer include my sisters, unless you specifically invite them. I am well aware that Caroline considers my friendship with you as the means to receive invitations to the most sought after events of the season, and while I can do nothing about that without hurting our reputation, at least I can keep her from imposing upon you as she normally does.”

  “That is hardly necessary, Bingley.”

  “In fact, I think it is,” replied Bingley, the firmness of his words taking Darcy aback. “She has done it for long enough, and it is only your good nature which has allowed it to happen.” Bingley showed him a rueful smile. “Rather, it was my desire to avoid a confrontation that allowed her to persist.”

  Darcy did not know what to say. He had often despaired of Miss Bingley’s dogged attentions, but he had never said anything to his friend, not wishing to embarrass him. It would be difficult to deal with a sibling of such a determined disposition, and he knew that strife would result if he insisted that Bingley speak with her.

  But it seemed like Bingley had been speaking with his sister anyway, and Darcy was impressed with his friend. He had not thought Bingley would attempt to persuade her—Bingley was much more apt to avoid conflict than to seek it out.

  “And they will not be accompanying us to Netherfield,” added Bingley. “Not only is Caroline vocal in condemning my intentions, but I will not have her offending Miss Bennet when she has already done so.”

  “I would have thought she would badger Hurst until he gave way,” said Darcy.

  Bingley grinned. “She would, except she does not know that we are to quit town. Hurst knows, in case he has need of contacting me, but to Caroline, I am simply staying at a hotel for some time in order to be away from her.”

  A laugh escaped Darcy’s lips. It appeared that Bingley, though he had acted with decisive fortitude in reining in his sister, was no fool. Darcy could only applaud him.

  “It seems that our cousin’s mind has preceded us to our destination.”

  The dry observation broke through Darcy’s memory of his conversation with Bingley, and he focused on Fitzwilliam, noting that he was leaning toward Anne, and though he had spoken in a low voice, Darcy was certain he had meant to be overheard.

  “Oh?” asked Bingley, looking at the cousins with some interest. “As far as I was aware, Darcy was not precisely enamored of the family. I would have thought that he would look at the prospect of a visit to Longbourn with more dread than excitement."

  Fitzwilliam turned and looked at Darcy, his amusement expressed in his laughing eyes and broad grin. “While I think it quite possible that Darcy is not enamored of the family as a whole, I am not certain that is the case about one of the family.”

  With evident surprise, Bingley turned to Darcy, and then the truth seemed to click all at once. “You admire Miss Elizabeth!”

  The look on Darcy’s face must have been enough to inform Bingley of the veracity of his guess, for he chortled. Darcy was only relieved he was not offended that Darcy had not told him.

  “I can scarcely credit it. You argued and sniped at one another the entire time you were in Hertfordshire, and I cannot imagine she looks on you favorably. But it all makes sense now; how she informed you of Miss Bennet’s feelings, how you appeared almost morose at times in the past few weeks . . . I must own to being excessively diverted!”

  It could have been worse, Darcy supposed; Bingley might have been angry with him, accusing him of being a hypocrite, or perhaps because he had not confessed his interest in the second Bennet daughter when he had spoken of his interference.

  Then another thought seemed to come to Bingley, and he looked at Darcy through wide eyes. “Did she refuse you?” Bingley paused. “I imagine she must have, though it is difficult to imagine a young lady refusing you. She is a rare breed. I do not doubt you would have felt the lash of her tongue if you failed to please her.”

  Though Darcy wished to do anything other than confess to what happened, he knew he would not be allowed to rest if he did not say something. Thus, he forced out: “She did not refuse, for I did not propose to her. She made it quite clear before I ever came to the point that a proposal would not be welcome.”

  “And yet now you are putting yourself in company with her.”

  Darcy eyed Bingley, wishing he could induce his friend to silence. His sister and cousins looked on with unabashed amusement, and Darcy sighed. It seemed like the price of attempting to earn Miss Elizabeth’s regard was to be his pride.

  “I have reason to hope that her opinion of me might be alterable.”

  “And you have decided that the benefits of success outweigh the hazards of failure, much as I have.”

  A tight nod indicated Darcy’s agreement.

  “Do not concern yourself, Cousin,” said Fitzwilliam, grinning widely. “There are five of us present. We can all work on your lady love, induce her to see that you are not quite a lost cause.”

  Darcy chose the simple expedient of ignoring his cousin.

  When they arrived at Longbourn and disembarked, they presented themselves at the door, requesting to see the family. The housekeeper admitted them readily, and soon they were on their way to the sitting-room. Darcy steeled himself—though he was somewhat heartened at Miss Elizabeth’s reaction to his presence that morning, being in the same room with her mother was always a trial, and her youngest sisters were little better. They did not disappoint.

  “Mr. Bingley!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet as they stepped into the room. “Why, we had no notion you were to return to the area. Nevertheless, we are happy to see you, sir!”

  “Yes, well . . .” managed Bingley, before he seemed to pull himself together. “It is unfortunate, but business kept me away. But I am very happy to have returned.”

  “And we are delighted!” effused the woman, as if she had not said it already.

  Then she turned to Darcy, and the warmth of her address seemed to turn to a raging blizzard. “And I see you have
brought Mr. Darcy with you.”

  The way she spoke his name made it seem like an epithet, and Darcy, though he thought he knew what she held against him, decided there was nothing he could do but bow in response, giving civility for incivility.

  “Mrs. Bennet,” said he, “might I be allowed to present my companions to your acquaintance?”

  The woman blinked, and she seemed to become aware of the fact that Darcy and Bingley were not alone. Darcy smiled grimly to himself—with the son of an earl present, not to mention his cousin and sister, Darcy thought her disapprobation would soon change.

  When she indicated her approval, Darcy motioned to his family: “This is the Bennet family, whom Bingley and I met in October—Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, and Misses Jane, Elizabeth—to whom I believe you are already known—Mary, Catherine, and Lydia Bennet. Mrs. Bennet, please allow me to introduce my cousin, Colonel Anthony Fitzwilliam, the younger son of my uncle, the Earl of Matlock, my cousin Miss Anne de Bourgh, the daughter of my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.”

  With the plethora of names and titles which Darcy deliberately let slip from his mouth, Mrs. Bennet seemed almost overcome, and it was exactly as Darcy had intended. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Mr. Bennet looking at him and grinning—no doubt the man had seen his gambit and found it to be immensely amusing. Miss Elizabeth was also looking at him with a barely suppressed smile. As for the sisters . . .

  “Oh, a colonel!” cried a loud voice, and the two youngest Bennets scampered forward and dropped into hurried curtseys before Fitzwilliam. “You did not mention you had a colonel for a cousin, Mr. Darcy.”

  “You have my apologies, Miss Lydia,” said Darcy, looking slyly at his cousin. Fitzwilliam was not amused.

  “Come, Colonel,” said Miss Kitty, pulling on the sleeve of his coat. “You must tell us what life is like in the regulars.”

  The glare Fitzwilliam directed at him would have sent a lesser man fleeing for the hills, but Darcy only made a shooing motion with his hand, and his cousin was led away by the happily chattering girls. Darcy knew he would likely pay for it later, but at present he was enjoying it thoroughly.