by Jann Rowland
There was no mistaking the fact that Georgiana did not know what to make of Lydia’s loud statement, but she did not respond. At that moment, Mr. Bingley spoke up, as if he had been waiting for such an opportunity.
“But you shall see Miss Darcy in Brighton, Miss Lydia, for we have all decided to go there as well.”
For the briefest of moments, a pin drop could have been heard, so shocked were the Bennets at Mr. Bingley’s assertion. And then Mrs. Bennet found her voice.
“Oh, Mr. Bingley! Will you truly come to Brighton? If so, then we must have you for dinner as soon as is possible, though I do not know how well appointed our dining room will be. I am so excited!”
“And we will return the favor,” replied Mr. Bingley, grinning at the Bennet matron. “But it will be Fitzwilliam who will be your host for the occasion.”
All eyes swung to the colonel, and he favored the company with an easy grin. “In fact, the house in which we will reside is owned by my father, and when we heard you were to repair there for the summer, we decided we would follow you.” He turned and raised an eyebrow at Mr. Darcy. “Holidays are so much better spent in the company of beloved friends, are they not, Darcy?”
The blatant teasing of the man who had almost proposed to Elizabeth threatened to bring a blush to Elizabeth’s face. She thought she held her composure in a credible manner, but Mr. Darcy glared at his cousin, his eyes suggesting retribution should the man continue. It appeared like everyone in the Netherfield party knew of what had happened between them. But none of her family had been told!
A clearing of a throat brought the company’s attention to Mr. Bennet. He sat in his chair watching them all with amusement, but to Elizabeth, who knew him better than anyone, she could see a hint of sternness underneath his sardonic demeanor.
“You also mean to spend the summer in Brighton, Mr. Bingley?”
Mr. Bingley appeared to realize that his heretofore unchallenged departure and then return was about to be questioned, and he looked at Mr. Bennet, seemingly in terror. Then he gathered himself visibly and straightened his spine. To Elizabeth, it seemed like Mr. Bingley had come into his own in that exact moment.
“We do, Mr. Bennet. Not only do we enjoy the company of your excellent family, but I find that I . . . Well, let us say that I left Netherfield in November intending to return, and to my shame I did not. I have unfinished business which I would like to complete. If I have your blessing, of course.”
The two men shared a long gaze, apparently taking the measure of each other. Or at least Mr. Bennet was taking the measure of Mr. Bingley, who was attempting to give every impression of calm determination, though Elizabeth thought she witnessed a slight fidget or two. In the end, Elizabeth thought that it was Jane’s agreement which ended the stalemate in Mr. Bingley’s favor. Jane did not say anything, and Elizabeth could tell that her sister was still uncertain of her suitor, but her quiet and composed gaze at her father seemed to speak volumes; she was amenable to Mr. Bingley paying her his attentions, but she would not allow him to behave in the same way he did before.
“It seems we are to meet in Brighton, Mr. Bingley,” said Mr. Bennet after a moment.
“I cannot be happier, sir,” said Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth could detect more than a hint of relief in Mr. Bingley’s tone.
The visit continued for some minutes, but Elizabeth had little to say. Instead she was thinking of the great fortune of her elder sister, and reflecting on how she now had more hope than she had possessed in quite some time. It seemed that Jane was to have her happiness after all.
Though she had expected it, Elizabeth was still caught off guard when Mr. Darcy rose sometime after and approached her father. “Mr. Bennet, might I have a moment of your time in private? There is a matter of which I would like to speak, a communication I must make which I should have made some time ago.
Mr. Bennet eyed Mr. Darcy, but he readily agreed and the two men soon left the room. Elizabeth waited for them to return nervously; she did not think her father would disbelieve Mr. Darcy concerning Mr. Wickham’s character, but whether he would do something concerning it, to forbid her younger sisters from having any contact with the man, was less certain. When they finally returned, she was heartened by the grave expression on her father’s face. Mr. Darcy, for his part, showed Elizabeth a smile and a nod of the head.
The Netherfield party soon departed, and it was then that Elizabeth received confirmation that her father would not ignore Mr. Darcy’s advice.
“Mrs. Bennet,” said he, speaking to his wife, but ensuring that he had the attention of his youngest daughters as well, “as you know, we will soon be departing for Brighton.”
“Of course, Mr. Bennet,” said she. “I believe we are all anticipating the event very much.”
“I am certain we all are, and as we have not had a holiday in some time, I am certain our daughters will have much with which to occupy ourselves. However, as we will be in Brighton, a place unknown to us, which may have dangers of which we are not aware, I must insist upon decorum.
“And in particular, I must insist that where the officers are concerned, care is taken to avoid any appearance of impropriety. There will be no chasing after the officers,” Mr. Bennet’s gaze seemed to settle on his youngest daughters, boring into them mercilessly, “there will be no improper speaking of them or to them, and we shall not be inviting the officers to the house we lease.”
“But Papa!” cried Lydia. She subsided when Mr. Bennet put up a hand, though not without a sulk.
“You will have your share of fun, Lydia, but it will be under the rules of proper behavior. Many of the officers are good men, but not all. And I have learned that we have at least one among us who is not what he portrays himself to be, and I must insist that you stay away from him altogether.”
“Who is this officer, Mr. Bennet?” asked his wife. For once, she seemed to be listening to him, possibly because she had not heard him speak in such a serious and authoritative tone in some time.
“It is Mr. Wickham,” replied Mr. Bennet. “I have learned that he has run up debts in several locations, much more than he can ever afford to repay, and without any intention of settling them. Furthermore, the man’s gaming habits, coupled with his . . . liberties taken with young and impressionable ladies, are enough to ensure that he should not be welcome in polite society, regardless of his pretty manners.”
Lydia made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “I knew it! Mr. Darcy is not content with ruining Wickham’s prospects and rendering him impoverished, he seeks to sink his character as well.”
“That is enough, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet.
The girl’s mouth snapped shut, and though Mr. Bennet’s tone had been mild, it was also firm and unyielding. Elizabeth thought his rebuke had likely been more effective because Mr. Bennet had not raised his voice.
“In fact, that living of which Mr. Wickham is so fond of speaking was given to him conditionally only, and when he failed to meet those conditions—namely, he did not study to become a parson and take orders—he was compensated accordingly, and the amount of his compensation was more than my annual income.”
Mrs. Bennet gasped, eyes wide open. Most of the ladies were in a like state, though Kitty was uncertain, while Lydia openly mutinous. “Can it be true, Mr. Bennet?”
“I think there is little doubt,” said he. “As you have all inferred,” Mr. Bennet’s eyes once again pierced his youngest, “Mr. Darcy was the man who made these communications to me. Not only did he offer the testimony of several others, all of whom are well acquainted with Wickham, but he also offered to provide evidence in the form of Mr. Wickham’s debts.”
“I have also heard something of Mr. Wickham’s actions,” said Elizabeth, feeling the need to speak up and support her father. “He is not a good man, and we should be wary of him.”
“You have heard nothing more than Mr. Darcy’s words,” exclaimed Lydia. “It seems like the man who declared you ‘not handsome eno
ugh’ has now become a desirable in your estimation, given the calf eyes you make at him.”
“Lydia!” exclaimed Elizabeth.
“It is true! I might wonder if you now have his wealth in mind. Well, I require nothing more than love to sustain me, and if Mr. Wickham should look on me with love, then I would not say him nay.”
“You are a silly girl, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet. Lydia glared at him in anger, but she subsided, seeing that he was not in a mood to be gainsaid. “I know not what affection Mr. Darcy has for Lizzy, but I can tell you that Mr. Wickham has little affection for anything other than money.
“Regardless, I do not require your agreement—the only thing I require from you is your solemn promise that you will not seek Mr. Wickham out, and that you do not talk to him if he should appear.”
The mutinous glint in Lydia’s eyes never wavered, but Mr. Bennet was firm. “If you will not give it to me, there will be an alteration in our plans, for I will hire a governess and you shall stay at Longbourn with her. Furthermore, I will rescind your permission to be in company. Do you wish to stay here while we all go to Brighton for the summer?”
The threat caused Lydia to pale, and she stammered for a moment. She looked to her mother, but Mrs. Bennet only stared at her husband, as if seeing him for the first time. Regardless, she did not appear inclined to argue the point with him, particularly when she seemed to realize that he would not be swayed. And in the end, Lydia was forced to give her promise, however sullenly it was offered.
“Excellent!” said Mr. Bennet. “Then we are decided. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall retire to my book room until we are called for dinner.”
When Mr. Bennet left, silence reigned in the sitting-room for some time, and even Lydia did not break it.
Chapter XX
Soon Netherfield joined Longbourn as a hive of activity, as both parties were preparing for the upcoming journey. Netherfield was only newly occupied and those in residence had not yet truly settled in, so their preparations were less onerous than those of the Bennet family. And as such, those at Longbourn were often unavailable for visiting, while the Netherfield party often found themselves at leisure, as many of the preparations to close the house again were completed by the servants. It was during this time that Darcy decided to take advantage of the relative inactivity to make an inquiry he thought was well overdue.
“I cannot imagine why you did not do this before, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam. He rode his horse beside Darcy easily, one hand holding the reins with almost negligent disinterest, and he had not been quiet concerning the matter since he had discovered Wickham’s presence in Meryton and his acquaintance with the Bennets.
Darcy only directed a sour look at his cousin and spurred his horse on; he had no desire to be taken to task yet again for his failure to control Wickham when he had come across him in Meryton. Miss Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam had both taken him to task in their separate ways, and even Mr. Bennet had made a few comments. For a man so indolent and irresponsible as Mr. Bennet to have said something to him was intolerable, especially since Darcy knew the man was essentially correct.
“You should have at least contacted me, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam, unwilling to allow the subject to rest. “With Wickham a part of the militia, we have an unprecedented opportunity to control him.”
“What could you have done?” asked Darcy, annoyed that his cousin would not allow the matter to rest. “I doubt his commanding officer would appreciate you terrorizing one of his men.”
Fitzwilliam looked at him as if he were mentally deficient, further raising Darcy’s ire. “I could have seen him in the regulars, serving as close to French bayonets as possible. Though I often wonder if their miserable soldiers can do anything right, there is a reasonable chance one of them would have taken care of the problem of Wickham for us.”
Shaking his head, Darcy declared: “I would not do that. Wickham is reprehensible, it is true, but he was also my father’s favorite. I have a responsibility, and I would not like to repay it by arranging for his death.”
“That is the problem, Darcy. All you see is the responsibility you have due to your father’s memory. What of Wickham’s responsibility to behave in a manner of which your father would be proud? What of his responsibility to society, his activities which cause much hardship? Wickham never has to concern himself for the consequences of his actions, for he knows you will make those consequences disappear.”
The longer Fitzwilliam spoke, the further Darcy’s scowl deepened. It was pointless to attempt to refute his charges, and he was not inclined to try. Indeed, he had given Wickham far more chances to amend his behavior than the man deserved, and Darcy had already concluded that he needed to change this dynamic between himself and Wickham.
“I intend to make it clear to Wickham that I will no longer fund his activities,” said Darcy shortly.
His declaration prompted nothing more than a snort from Fitzwilliam. “Why should he believe you?”
“Because I will give him no choice,” replied Darcy.
They rode into town, Fitzwilliam still giving Darcy a skeptical glare, and they made their way toward the edge of town, where the officers of the militia made their encampment. The streets of Meryton were bustling, as was usual for a weekday, and intermixed with the sober clothing of the townspeople were the more ornate dresses and suits of the local gentlemen, with the occasional scarlet and white of the militia. Darcy looked about with a lazy eye—this small town was unremarkable, like many others of its kind.
“Well, speak of the devil,” said Fitzwilliam, and Darcy looked over at him, only to see him gazing to his left. There, standing by the side of the road, speaking with a pair of young ladies who could not be more than seventeen, stood George Wickham.
Reining in his horse, Fitzwilliam swung himself down from the saddle. “At attention, Lieutenant!” barked he.
The results were far from inspiring. Wickham started, but when he saw it was Fitzwilliam, he deliberately turned his eyes back to the young ladies and continued to speak with them.
A confrontation was in the offing, Darcy knew, and he dismounted his horse. A young boy stood nearby watching beside one of the business establishments, and Darcy summoned the lad and passed him a coin, instructing him to mind the horses while they dealt with Wickham.
Fitzwilliam, however, had not been idle. When he saw that Wickham intended to ignore him, Fitzwilliam approached the man and stepped in front of him, his posture rigid and his fists balled at his sides. The two girls stepped back in alarm.
“I said, at attention, Lieutenant!” bellowed Fitzwilliam.
A quick glance about showed that the volume of Fitzwilliam’s voice had carried across half the town, and many nearby had stopped, surprised. It was now apparent why Fitzwilliam had worn his own regimentals to confront Wickham, and Darcy could only curse at the attention he was drawing, though he could confess that controlling Wickham through his superior rank was as likely to succeed as anything else.
Though with obvious reluctance, Wickham straightened, though he glared through mutinous eyes at Fitzwilliam. It was clear that Fitzwilliam saw this too, if his devilish grin was anything to go by.
“Run along now,” said Fitzwilliam, directing his comments to the two young ladies. “I am afraid Georgy here won’t be able to play any longer.”
Though his words were soft and even pleasant, there was a hard glint in Fitzwilliam’s eyes that the two girls could not miss. They gave nary a protest as they turned and scurried away, whispering furiously between them. But Fitzwilliam disregarded them as soon as they turned to leave, his entire focus on George Wickham.
“It seems that you have been up to your old tricks, Wickham,” said Fitzwilliam.
“I do not know of what you speak,” replied a sullen George Wickham. “I was merely having a conversation with two ladies on a public street.”
“I was not speaking of that, Wickham, and you know it. Those little girls were hardly ‘ladies,’ and a
ny attention you pay to them cannot be anything other than a cause for concern.”
Wickham shook his head. “There is nothing I can do to them. The regiment is scheduled for departure on the morrow, you know.”
“Then why were you not assisting in the preparations?”
“My preparations are complete.”
A snort was Fitzwilliam’s answer. “Preparations for a relocation on such a scale are never complete.”
“Fitzwilliam, please allow me,” said Darcy pulling on his cousin’s arm. He might have been pulling at a brick wall; Fitzwilliam was a large man, and he had put his time in the army to good use.
Though seemingly unwilling to leave off his tormenting of one who was, after all, eminently deserving of it, Fitzwilliam motioned toward the unfortunate lieutenant. His vigilance, however, was not relaxed in the slightest.
“And what do you want, Darcy?” demanded Wickham. He allowed his stance to lapse, no doubt because he did not think he needed to stand at attention to Darcy.
“Your good behavior,” replied Darcy.
Wickham only sneered. “I have done nothing.”
“No debts with the local merchants?”
A flash of annoyance passed over Wickham’s face. “I have no outstanding debts with the merchants.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow at his boyhood friend. “That does not sound like you, Wickham. Shall I ask about to see if they agree with your assessment?”
Wickham waved his hand with airy unconcern. “Be my guest. You will discover nothing.”
Exchanging a look with his cousin, Darcy turned his attention back to Wickham. “Perhaps that is because the shopkeepers have been tight-fisted about extending credit to the officers?”
Eyes narrowed, Wickham glared at Darcy. “I should have known you would interfere.”
“You are a disgrace, Wickham,” snapped Fitzwilliam.
“I did not interfere,” replied Darcy mildly. “I have said nothing to the local merchants. Perhaps they have merely come across your ilk before and learned their lesson. Either way, I can only be happy for it, as I have no desire to once again pay your way out of trouble.”