Coincidence

by Jann Rowland

  Wickham grunted, but he said nothing further.

  “Now, let us speak of your behavior from this point forward,” continued Darcy. “The last time I paid your debts is the last time you will ever have money from me. I suggest you refrain from running up any more in any location you visit from this point forward. The next time, I will simply leave you to the merchants’ mercy.”

  “I have need of no help from you,” spat Wickham.

  “Then shall I simply demand repayment for those receipts I already hold?” asked Darcy.

  A glare was Wickham’s response.

  “Furthermore, though you will be in Brighton, as will the Bennets, I must demand that you stay entirely away from them. The Bennets are my friends, and I have already informed Mr. Bennet of your character.”

  “Do you truly think Mr. Bennet will actually do anything?” Wickham laughed, a harsh burst of sardonic amusement. “You would be appalled to know what Miss Lydia gets up to when she is out of sight of her father and sisters. In fact . . .”

  “Enough!” snarled Fitzwilliam.

  “Are you interested in having a go at her, Colonel?” asked Wickham. “She is comely and free with her favors, but I had not thought the silly childlike type to be your preference.”

  “If you say another word, I will see you in Spain at the front lines,” growled Fitzwilliam.

  “Here, what is this?”

  Another man in a red coat strode up, and Darcy looked up to see that it was Colonel Forster. It was apparent that he was not amused.

  “Colonel Forster,” said Fitzwilliam, with a bow one makes to an equal. “I am Colonel Fitzwilliam, cousin to Mr. Darcy here.”

  “Aye, I know all about Mr. Darcy,” said Colonel Forster, glancing sidelong at Darcy. “What I would like to know is why you are accosting my officer in the streets.”

  “Nothing more than a conversation between friends,” replied Fitzwilliam.

  “It looked anything but friendly to me. And as I am aware of Mr. Darcy’s history with Wickham, I cannot imagine that anything said between them could be cordial.”

  “I assume you are speaking of Wickham’s so-called inheritance which he was denied?” asked Darcy.

  Colonel Forster looked on Darcy with some distaste. “It is well known in the camp and the town, and I dare say that you are quite unable to defend yourself. Regardless, I will not have you accosting my officer in the streets.”

  “Perhaps you should hear the truth before you make a judgment,” said Fitzwilliam.

  “Leave it, Fitzwilliam,” said Darcy. He had seen the disbelieving glint in Forster’s eyes and knew the man was not disposed to listen to reason.

  “Whether you believe me or not is irrelevant,” said Darcy, directing his comments back to Forster.

  “Do you have proof to show me?”

  “Not at present, and I will not send for it either, for it can mean nothing to one such as you.” Forster bristled, but Darcy would not allow him to speak. “I know nothing of your background, sir, but for you to demand proof of a gentleman and believe the words of a steward’s son is beyond the pale.”

  “Gentlemen are as capable of lying as stewards’ sons.”

  “Yes, they are,” replied Darcy. “But I feel no need to justify my own actions. Rather, you should be asking your subordinate to prove his assertions, as he is the one making accusations.

  “Regardless, as I have stated, I do not feel the need to prove myself to you or anyone else. But I suggest you watch this one. If you do not, his behavior will be on your head.”

  Ignoring the colonel, Darcy turned back to Wickham. “Remember what I have said. Not only has Mr. Bennet been apprised of your character, but the Bennets are my friends. If you wish to remain a free man, you will not approach them at all.”

  Then without even a bow or a nod of the head, Darcy turned and gathered up the reins of his horse, thanking the boy who offered them to him almost absently. Soon he and Fitzwilliam were mounted and heading out of town.

  “The nerve of that man,” said Fitzwilliam. “It is clear he should not be a colonel. I doubt he has the capacity to act as a competent corporal.”

  “The militia is nothing like the regulars, Fitzwilliam,” replied Darcy.

  His cousin gave him a sour look. “Of that I am aware. I wonder what his background is. If he was the son of a gentleman, I cannot imagine he would take Wickham’s side over yours.”

  “He may simply be the son of an inconsequential country squire. Many such men are jealous of those who are fortunate enough to possess their own estates.”

  “It is possible,” conceded Fitzwilliam.

  “Regardless. I do not mean to think of it any longer. Wickham has been warned. Any further misbehavior will be on his head.”

  “To that, I can agree.”

  And the cousins rode back toward Netherfield. In fact, Darcy was anticipating the opportunity to quit this town as soon as possible. It was, perhaps, not much different from most others of its kind, but he could not be comfortable here. If all went well and Miss Elizabeth could be persuaded to accept him, he could only hope she would not wish to spend much time here in the future.

  On a clear summer day, the combined Netherfield and Longbourn parties set out for Brighton. It was to be an easy journey, as they would stop in London for the night, proceed on to an inn halfway from London to Brighton, at which they had already arranged rooms. And, it would also be much more comfortable, at least for some of those in the party.

  The Bennet conveyance, an older but serviceable carriage, was smaller than either of the carriages owned by Darcy and Bingley, but it was the only one they had. One of the reasons Mr. Bennet had not looked forward to holidaying in Brighton was the fact that he would be forced to share one small carriage with six ladies, and even now, Darcy could not understand how they might have managed. Mr. Bennet had been set to hire a carriage to follow them, which would transport his valet and the ladies’ maids—two of them—so it was conceivable that he might have found some relief there, but even then, it could not be considered an ideal situation.

  When they had made their decision to summer in Brighton as well, Darcy and Bingley had immediately offered the services of their own conveyances, and with twelve travelers divided between three carriages, the journey was certainly more comfortable than it might have been otherwise. In addition, Darcy and Bingley each had a servants’ carriage which were to be used to transport luggage and servants, so Mr. Bennet was spared the expense of needing to hire one, for which the man was grateful.

  Of course, from Darcy’s perspective, it would have been preferable had he been able to ride with Miss Elizabeth so he could press his own suit, but for at least the first leg of the journey to London, it was not to be. Elizabeth and her elder sister rode in the Darcy carriage with Anne, and they were joined by her younger sister, Mary. Then, in the Bingley carriage, rode Mrs. Bennet, Lydia, Kitty, and Georgiana—the arrangement insisted upon by the youngest Bennets. Darcy was concerned about his sister’s sensibilities with such company, and it proved that Miss Elizabeth was as well. However, it was Georgiana herself who allayed their concerns.

  “Oh, do stop hovering, William,” said she, when they had stopped for a break about halfway to London. “I am fine with Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty, and Mrs. Bennet has been nothing but welcoming.”

  “I will not be offended if you would like to change places with me, Georgiana,” replied Elizabeth. “There is no need to spare my feelings, for I know how boisterous my sisters can be.”

  But Georgiana only smiled. “I actually enjoy it, Elizabeth. I am, as you know, quite reticent, and with your younger sisters, I am rarely required to speak when I do not wish it. And when I can find my courage, they listen intently, though I will own they do not remain quiet for long.”

  “I can well imagine it,” replied Miss Elizabeth, though in a soft voice.

  Not to be dissuaded, Georgiana returned to the Bingley carriage when they departed, and Darcy, along wit
h Bingley, Fitzwilliam, and Mr. Bennet, returned to the Bennet carriage themselves.

  “Do not concern yourself, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet, when the carriage was once again under way. “My youngest can hardly corrupt your sister in so short a time. Now, given how much opportunity they will have in Brighton, your prudence might be sensible.”

  Embarrassed that he should be caught out by Mr. Bennet in such a manner, Darcy attempted to reply when he saw the teasing glint in the man’s eyes and the half smile on his face. Darcy had rarely been teased in such a manner in the entirety of his adult life. He was not certain he enjoyed the sensation.

  Fitzwilliam, however, found it amusing, and he guffawed lustily. “Perhaps you are correct, Mr. Bennet. But I would like to point out that your second daughter was involved in the conversation you mentioned, so it appears Darcy is not the only one who appears concerned for Georgiana’s state of mind.”

  Though Fitzwilliam’s tone was teasing, Mr. Bennet refused to rise to the bait. He only shrugged and said: “That is because Lizzy knows her sisters well. I am not surprised that she would attempt to protect your charge.”

  It was true, Darcy decided, and since the man was aware of the imperfection of his youngest daughters—and seemed, unaccountably, to be unwilling to attempt to correct them—it appeared to be safe to discuss such subjects.

  They made good time to London, and once they arrived in the city, the Bennets were conveyed to Gracechurch Street, where they were to stay with the Gardiners for the night, while the combined Darcy and Bingley party pressed on to Darcy’s town residence, where they were to stay. The unloading and loading of the carriages were tedious, to be certain, but everything proceeded apace, and there was little fussing to be done. Once this was all accomplished, Darcy’s party retired early that night.

  The next morning, the company awoke and met to break their fast at an hour earlier than most town dwellers would rise. The inn at which they had arranged to spend the night was an easy distance away, and even with the late departure, they would arrive late that afternoon. Had Darcy been travelling alone, he would have arranged his schedule to complete the entire journey to Brighton that day.

  It was while they were sitting at the breakfast table, enjoying a last bit of tea, when a commotion out in the hallway caught Darcy’s attention. Wondering what it could be—and afraid he knew, as they had not heard from Lady Catherine in some time—he rose, intending to restore order to his home, when the door opened, and in floated Caroline Bingley, followed at a more leisurely pace by her sister and her sister’s husband.

  “Oh, Mr. Darcy, I am so happy to see you. London is dreadful at this time of year, and I could not be happier that we are to leave it.”

  With a raised eyebrow, Darcy looked at Hurst, but the man only shrugged in response, and looked heavenward in exasperation. Now that Darcy looked a little closer, he realized that Miss Bingley was dressed in traveling clothes, though the fabrics were finer than Darcy might have thought appropriate for a day in a carriage. By contrast, the Hursts were dressed in their typical day clothes, and even Mrs. Hurst, who had generally supported her sister in the past, was looking at her with barely concealed exasperation.

  “When shall we depart?” prompted Miss Bingley, favoring Darcy with what she must have thought was her most seductive smile. “I cannot wait to sample the famous beaches and go sea bathing. I am certain I should like nothing better, in fact!”

  “I am sorry, Caroline,” said Bingley, rising and glaring at his sister. “But of what are you speaking?”

  Miss Bingley looked at him with an expression that suggested he should hold his tongue. “Why, our journey to Brighton for the summer, of course. The Bingleys have been invited to spend the summer with Mr. Darcy and his sister and cousins.”

  “I regret to inform you, Caroline,” said Bingley, through gritted teeth, “that the Bingleys have not been invited anywhere. I have been invited to Brighton, but nothing was said about my sisters or my sister’s husband accompanying us.”

  “As I tried to tell you, Caroline,” said Hurst, his voice laced with disgust. “Of course, you should never have even known anything at all of the invitation your brother received, if you had not pried into my correspondence.”

  Miss Bingley colored in anger and embarrassment, and she shot a dark look at Hurst before she turned back to Darcy, her voice and demeanor all sweetness. “I apologize if I have misconstrued the situation, Mr. Darcy, but you can hardly blame me. In the past, your invitations to my brother have generally included myself and the Hursts. Is this not the same situation?”

  “At times, I have included you,” replied Darcy, enjoying the way the unwarranted confidence fled from her face, “but not always. In this instance, your thinking is laced by fallacy, Miss Bingley, for I, myself, am a visitor in this instance. I am but a guest, as my uncle owns the home in which we will stay. Fitzwilliam will be our host on this occasion.”

  A sudden consternation came over her, but she hid it quickly and focused her appeal on Fitzwilliam. But before she could speak, Bingley spoke up, and by his tone, he was less than pleased.

  “No, Caroline, I will not allow you to impose upon Fitzwilliam’s hospitality, even if he is inclined to offer it.”

  “Oh, Charles, do not speak hastily.”

  “I do not,” replied Bingley, his tone implacable. “You have not been invited, Caroline, and you will not go. I am as disgusted by your behavior as I was before I went to Netherfield, and I will not allow this imposition. You deceived me about Jane Bennet being in town, you sent her letters, doing your best to lead her to believe we were severing our acquaintance with her, and you are unrepentant for having done it. As everyone in this room thinks highly of Miss Bennet, you will find no allies here.”

  “But Charles!” exclaimed Miss Bingley. “I did nothing that was not for your own good.”

  “It was not for my own good,” snapped Bingley. “Rather, it was for nothing more than your own selfish designs, and had nothing to do with my happiness.

  “Either way, it matters little. You have not been invited, and I will not allow you to impose. Now, you will return to Hurst’s townhouse, and there you will stay. Fitzwilliam will not house you in his family’s home.”

  And with that, Bingley strode forward and grasped his sister by the arm, escorting her from the room. The woman protested and squawked as they walked, but Bingley did not allow her to persuade him, and soon they were gone, the Hursts following behind. For a moment, silence reigned in the room.

  “Would it be unkind of me if I were to confess to enjoying Miss Bingley receiving a set down?” asked Georgiana.

  The other three in the room looked at one another before they burst into laughter. “If it is unkind of you, I believe that we are all to be censured,” chortled Fitzwilliam.

  “The lady is deserving,” added Anne.

  When Bingley returned, the company attempted to suppress their laughter, but he only looked at them and laughed himself. “You need not hide your merriment,” said he. “In fact, I rather enjoyed it myself.”

  It was a company in high spirits which left Darcy house that morning, and it had nothing to do with hopes for courtships, the anticipation of good company, or any other such concerns. Of course, it might also be due to those things.

  Chapter XXI

  When Elizabeth heard of the spectacle Miss Bingley had provoked, all she could do was shake her head. Though she had always known of the woman’s high opinion of herself, she could not but be shocked at Miss Bingley’s behavior, nevertheless. For her to act in such a way before people who possessed a valid claim to the circles to which Miss Bingley aspired, was nothing short of idiocy. Miss Bingley was fortunate that Mr. Darcy and his relations were not inclined to gossip, or she might find herself laughed from London.

  It was from Mr. Darcy that Elizabeth learned of the matter. The party had departed after a leisurely morning, knowing the day’s journey would not take them all the way to Brighton, and after t
raveling some distance into Kent, they had stopped to refresh themselves at an inn along the way. It was there that Mr. Darcy approached her and asked Elizabeth if she would walk with him for a short time. As it was still some fifteen minutes before they were to depart, and Elizabeth did not enjoy being confined in a carriage for several hours, she agreed, if only for the opportunity to stretch her legs.

  They walked in silence for several moments, directing their steps toward a little wilderness of trees and shrubs behind the inn. Mr. Darcy, to Elizabeth’s eyes, looked as if he wished to say something to her, but whether he lacked the courage or simply did not know what he wished to say, Elizabeth could not quite determine. So she waited for him to speak, preferring to focus her attention on the greenery, reveling in the warmth of the sun and the sounds of the vibrant landscape which encompassed them.

  “Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy when they had walked for some minutes. He stopped and turned to her, prompting Elizabeth to do likewise. “I wished, Miss Bennet, to apologize for my actions, both in Kent and in London.”

  The man fell silent, but Elizabeth, sensing he had not said all he wished to say, refrained from answering. She turned out to be correct, as he spoke again after he darted a quick glance in her direction.

  “I wish you to understand that there was nothing untoward in the way I . . . sought your company. In fact, I was attempting to discover some way in which I might change your opinion of me. For you see, I discovered it quite by accident soon after I arrived in Kent, and it did not take long before I realized that I wished to change it. Of course, I did not go about it in a manner which did me credit, and I apologize for that.”

  Elizabeth nodded, considering her answer before she spoke. “I quite understand that, Mr. Darcy. Our confrontation at the menagerie confirmed that, though I had already known. I also wish to apologize for my own behavior. I had not intended to be so caustic. I should have held my temper under better regulation.”