Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 4

by Jennifer Lang

  She nodded.

  ‘Then you know I behaved abominably. You were generous enough to greet me politely when we met again after my wedding, but I was not mature enough to own my faults or apologise for them. I am now, and I am sincerely sorry.’

  He made her a bow and was about to take his leave of her when she said kindly, ‘That must have cost you an effort. Perhaps my sister did not make such a bad bargain after all.’

  He smiled; not a charming and duplicitous smile, the kind that had all too easily crossed his lips in earlier days, but a smile of relief.

  ‘That is very generous of you.’

  ‘How is Lydia? She is well?’ asked Elizabeth.

  ‘Yes. Very well, I thank you. And your family?’ he asked, heartened by her kindness and feeling he now had a right to enquire about the Bennets.

  ‘They are all well. My sister Jane is at present staying in the inn. I wonder you have not seen her.’

  ‘I have been out all day in the daytime and I have eaten in the public bar at mealtimes,’ he said.

  ‘I understand.’

  There was a little more conversation of a general kind and then George bowed and returned to his room in order to finish his packing. Now that Darcy had discovered his presence, he could no longer stay, for he did not want to embarrass his former friend, or add to his burdens. He strode back across the stable yard and disappeared into the inn, leaving Elizabeth to ponder their meeting.

  She was still pondering it when Mr Darcy finished his conversation with the innkeeper and joined her by the Darcy carriage. As he helped her in, she told him of it.

  ‘He apologised,’ she said, as she took her place in the carriage and settled herself back against the seat.

  ‘He apologised to me also,’ said Mr Darcy.

  ‘You have known him longer than I have. Do you think he is sincere?’ asked Elizabeth.

  ‘Yes, I think he is,’ said Mr Darcy, taking his place opposite her then rapping on the roof of the carriage to signal that the coachman should start moving forward. The carriage gave a small jolt and then it settled into a smooth rolling motion as it returned to Pemberley. ‘But I am not the person he has chiefly wronged.’

  ‘Nor I,’ said Elizabeth. ‘It is Georgiana who has suffered the most at his hands. But if he is not welcome at Pemberley, then he will never have a chance to apologise to her.’

  ‘And you think he should be given that chance?’ asked Mr Darcy.

  ‘I think it is Christmas,’ said Elizabeth. ‘It is a time of forgiveness, and a time for families to be together. He is an orphan with no siblings. You and Georgiana are the closest thing he has to a family.’

  ‘Which makes his behaviour to Georgiana all the more despicable,’ said Mr Darcy sternly.

  But even as he said it, he remembered George saying that he would have treated her like a sister and Mr Darcy believed it. It did not excuse George’s behaviour but it went some way to ameliorating it. And Elizabeth was right. It was Christmas. A time for forgiveness. A time for healing.

  ‘All I am saying is that you should consider it,’ said Elizabeth.

  Mr Darcy looked at her and thought how lucky he was to know her for she, too, had suffered at George’s hands and yet she was prepared to forgive him.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will speak to Georgiana and ask her if she is willing to meet him. Perhaps it is time that that unfortunate incident is consigned to the past.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  That afternoon saw them all skating on the lake. Mr and Mrs Bingley had joined the party, the ease and friendship between Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley now fully restored. With two newly betrothed couples in the house, there was an air of good cheer. When they returned to the house they warmed themselves with mulled punch and then set out for a carriage ride around the park, eager to make the most of the daylight while it lasted. They had not been long returned when the butler informed Mr Darcy that Mr Horrocks had arrived.

  Mr Darcy excused himself at once. Mr Horrocks was one of his London bankers, and if Mr Horrocks himself had come to Derbyshire then matters must be grave indeed. He had been trying to find out the extent of his difficulties since he had received the letter telling him of the failure of his investments, and his man of business had gone down to London in order to make enquiries. It seemed that Mr Darcy was at last to learn more.

  He went into his study, where he found Mr Horrocks waiting for him.

  After ringing for refreshments, Mr Darcy said, ‘If you are here, Horrocks, then things must be bad. Tell me the worst.’

  Mr Horrocks looked very upset and said, ‘Your man of business came to the bank recently to make enquiries into a certain letter you had received. We took the matter very seriously and set about finding out the full information. I am sorry to say you have been given some bad information. I believe you were informed that your investments had all failed?’

  ‘That is so,’ said Mr Darcy.

  ‘Forgive me if I check the details with you, but this is important. You were informed of it in a letter?’ asked Mr Horrocks.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mr Darcy impatiently.

  ‘So I understood. I am afraid you were misinformed. One of our partners, Mr Tranter, recently awarded his son a senior position at the bank, intending it to be a position in name only, for the young man in question has no aptitude for banking. But instead of taking a salary and amusing himself at his club, the young man took it into his head to involve himself in banking business. He did not understand the information he reviewed and I am afraid he sent several alarmist letters to some of our most important clients.’

  ‘Are you telling me that my investments have not failed?’ asked Mr Darcy.

  ‘I am telling you that your investments have suffered a downturn but that it is nothing out of the ordinary and that we expect the investments to regain their former position before very long. Unless you have a pressing need to sell any of them, then you will not suffer by this present downturn.’

  ‘I cannot believe it,’ said Mr Darcy, passing his hand across his brow.

  ‘It is a bad business, a very bad business indeed, which is why I have come to see you personally, to explain matters,’ said Mr Horrocks. ‘The bank is sincerely apologetic for any distress this might have caused and would like to offer you recompense if you will overlook this lapse and not take your business elsewhere.’

  He outlined a generous sum and Mr Darcy’s eyebrows raised. He had gone from being almost ruined to being even richer within the space of a few minutes. He felt a huge cloud lifting from him. It had been weighing him down ever since receiving the letter and it had affected every aspect of his life, including his marriage plans. He had been reluctant to propose to Elizabeth when his finances were uncertain, and had only done so when he had become carried away by his feelings. But now he saw that it had perhaps been a blessing in disguise, for it had given Elizabeth a chance to accept him when he was not a wealthy man; when love had been the only enticement; and her acceptance in such circumstances added an even richer source of happiness to his forthcoming marriage.

  But he must turn his attention back to his guest, before it wandered down pathways of a future with Elizabeth and refused to return.

  ‘What has been done about this rogue son?’ he asked.

  ‘He has been removed from his position and his father has allowed him to join the navy, which was always his ambition,’ said Mr Horrocks. ‘If you would be so good as to forgive us we will redouble our efforts to give you good service in the future.’

  ‘Very well. I will overlook it this once,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘But make sure it does not happen again.’

  Mr Horrocks assured him of the bank’s determination to make sure that that was so, and then Mr Horrocks departed.

  Mr Darcy sat alone in his study, thinking. If none of this had happened – if the home farm had not been destroyed, and if there had not been a fire, and if he had not received a letter telling him that his investments had failed - then he would hav
e been spending this very evening making sure that everything was ready for the Christmas ball, for it had been scheduled to be held on the morrow.

  Instead, events had taken a dramatic turn and the winter had not gone according to plan. The ball had been cancelled and he was sorry for that, because his sister had been looking forward to it. But apart from that . . . he found himself smiling at the path the last few weeks had taken.

  Oh, it had all seemed terrible at the time, of course. If someone had told him, when he had learnt of the failure of his investments and he had been staring at the damage caused by the fire, that so much good would come out of so much bad, then he would not have believed them. But it was true. He had been wealthy and prosperous in October but he had been estranged form those who meant the most to him. He had been estranged from Anne, thinking he had treated her unfairly and that she must resent him for it. He had also been estranged from Mr Bingley, feeling that, there too, he had behaved badly and that Mr Bingley resented him for interfering in his life. He had been estranged from his boyhood friend, George Wickham, not because of his own behaviour this time, but because of George’s behaviour. And he had been estranged from Miss Elizabeth Bennet, because he had thought she must blame him for her sister’s disgrace.

  But with the disasters of the home farm, the fire and his investments had come corresponding blessings. He had discovered that his cousin Anne did not think ill of him for jilting her, in fact quite the contrary, she liked him even more than before because he had set her free to follow her heart. Charles Bingley had forgiven him for his interference, and had proved a true and generous friend in time of need. George Wickham had begged for his forgiveness, and most importantly of all, Miss Elizabeth Bennet had become a guest in his house. He had discovered that she did not blame him for her sister’s disgrace and that she was in love with him. How well it had all worked out. He wanted to savour the moment, for moments as sweet as this did not come along very often in life.

  His one regret was that his sister Georgiana would not be able to go to a ball. She had been looking forward to it for weeks. He could always reinstate it, but he had no wish to see his fair-weather friends, and fair-weather neighbours, ever again, and he would not have invited them, even if he could have notified them quickly enough for them to come.

  No. The only people he wanted to see and spend time with, and gather around him, were the people who really mattered to him; the people he loved.

  And then a new thought started to awaken in his mind. Why should he not hold a ball after all? Not an event full of people who meant nothing to him, and who had turned against him in his hour of need, but full of those he cared about. Everyone he needed was right here. All his true friends were gathered around him: the villagers who had given their time and skill to repair his home out of the goodness of their hearts, and the gratitude and kinship they felt for the Darcy family, with no thought of a reward; Georgiana, who had blossomed into a capable young woman before his eyes, helping him when his thoughts were at their darkest and summoning his friends to aid him; Charles Bingley, who had given freely of his wealth to help the repairs; Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had leant a listening ear; Anne who had travelled from Kent to be with him, and who had brought with her the twin of his mother’s writing desk; and Elizabeth – Elizabeth whose very presence had rescued him from his black despair and brought him into the light; who had teased him out of his melancholy and who had challenged him with a sprig of mistletoe and a glance from her fine eyes, setting free the man beneath the formal Darcy exterior and awakening him to a future filled with love and laughter.

  ‘I am going to hold a ball,’ he said to himself. ‘It will not be the largest ball ever held at Pemberley, or the grandest. But it will be the finest ball Pemberley has ever seen, nevertheless.’

  Mr Darcy lost no time in telling his friends and family his good news. Just as he had at first been doubting and then delighted when Mr Horrocks had told him what had happened, they too took some time to adjust to the new situation. But once they had fully taken it in, they were all as delighted as he was. He thanked them all for their constancy and there was a tremor in his voice as he did so. He quickly moved on to his idea of holding a Christmas ball after all.

  ‘It will not be populated by lords and ladies. It will be populated with something better: all the people who stood by me in my time of need.’

  He saw Elizabeth’s warm smile and cherished it. She had always known the true worth of people, and she had always known that that worth had nothing to do with their possessions or titles. Now he knew it, too.

  His sister, Georgiana was particularly excited about the ball and he was pleased to have given her pleasure. When the general buzz of conversation had died down, and when the others had gathered in small groups to talk about it, he took Georgiana to one side and told her he had seen George Wickham. He told her about George’s help in repairing the fire damage, and he told her about George’s apologies to himself and Elizabeth.

  ‘But the person George really needs to apologise to is you,’ he said, looking down at her seriously. ‘If you are willing to give him that chance, I will invite him to the ball. But if not, I will not send him an invitation. It is up to you.’

  Then Georgiana showed her growing maturity and her genuine goodness by saying, ‘Invite him. It is time we made our peace. George was always good to me when I was a little girl. He often played with me when I was lonely, and even though he did me a great wrong when we met in Ramsgate, he was respectful and treated me kindly, even then. It is Christmas, after all. It is a time to let bygones be bygones.’

  ‘A time for forgiveness. A time for healing,’ said Mr Darcy, remembering Elizabeth’s words.

  ‘Yes. That is my feeling exactly,’ said Georgiana. ‘If he is sincere in his remorse, and from what you have told me then I think he is, it is time for us all to be friends again.’

  ‘Then will you help me to write the invitations?’

  ‘I will. And as the time is so near, we will begin at once.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  George Wickham looked round his attic room to make sure he had not forgotten to pack anything. He intended to make an early start the following morning, for he wanted to be off at first light because he had a long way to go.

  He went downstairs to pay his bill. There was a time when he would have sneaked out without paying and he was ashamed to remember it. But he had changed dramatically since those days, and so he sought out the innkeeper, paying him in full and thanking him for a congenial stay.

  ‘I want to be away at first light, so I thought it better to settle with you this evening,’ he said.

  ‘It’s been a pleasure to have you here, Mr Wickham. I hope we’ll see you again soon?’

  George said, ‘Perhaps,’ but privately he thought it was unlikely.

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ said the innkeeper. ‘A letter came for you a few minutes ago. I was going to send it up to your room but you might as well take it with you.’

  ‘A letter?’

  ‘Yes. Here it is.’

  The innkeeper reached under the bar and handed him the letter.

  George saw at once that the handwriting was Georgiana’s and he stared at it before taking it and thanking the innkeeper. Then he went upstairs, where he opened the letter in the privacy of his attic room, only to find that it was an invitation to a ball.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed in surprise.

  A ball at Pemberley? And he had been invited? And the invitation had been written by Georgiana? What did it mean?

  He did not dare hope it meant he had been forgiven, but he must find out. He would go to the ball and he would speak to her. He would apologise to her for all the unhappiness he had caused her and then he would decide how to act. If she forgave him, he would remain at the ball and give thanks for the healing of the breach. And if she was embarrassed or upset then he would apologise, bow and leave, so that he would not spoil her enjoyment of the evening.

>   Elizabeth, Georgiana and Anne chattered and laughed as they dressed for the Pemberley ball. They had grown closer since spending time together at Pemberley and were now good friends. Anne had the most splendid clothes, befitting her status as the granddaughter of an earl. Her red silk gown added a glowing touch of colour to the dark evening, for as a woman approaching thirty she was allowed to wear a wider range of colours than younger women. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head and the whole style was softened with curls around her face. She was not a beauty, but her love for Colonel Fitzwilliam had brought a glow to her cheeks which was most attractive.

  Elizabeth was dressed in a creamy satin, the colour matching the berries on the mistletoe that decorated the house. It set off the creamy colour of her skin and formed a striking contrast to her dark hair and red lips. She had more beauty than Anne and tonight she was in her best looks, so that she looked positively radiant.

  Georgiana was like a bud between two flowers. Her dewy youth was accentuated by her pure white gown, which had a demure neckline and pretty puffed sleeves. Its high waist was adorned with a band of white ribbon, which was matched with a trim of white ribbon around the hem.

  Together the three of them looked enchanting as they descended the magnificent sweeping stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, in the marble-floored hall, Mr Darcy was standing with Colonel Fitzwilliam, waiting to receive their guests, who would shortly be arriving. They were talking together and Elizabeth thought how splendid they looked in their evening attire. Both men were imposing and carried themselves well. Mr Darcy was the taller of the two and Colonel Fitzwilliam was the broader. Mr Darcy’s dark hair had a natural wave that framed his face, reaching to his collar and matching the dark sideburns that drew attention to his finely moulded cheekbones and velvety brown eyes. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s hair was of an indeterminate colour, somewhere between brown and black, and it did not have the thickness or the natural wave of Mr Darcy’s hair, but its sleekness accentuated the contours of his head and suited his more angular face.