by Nicky Roth
“Good grief!” Bingley exclaimed, deeply shocked.
“Well, he would not be the first man to father an illegitimate child, and had he learned to be more careful and show more responsibility I would have left it at that. But she was not the only girl he has thus ruined. It was after my father’s death I also found out he had left many debts behind him in Lambton, the small market town about five miles from Pemberley. Which presumably was one of the many reasons why he had no intentions to return to that part of the country. He is a gambler, a seducer and a mercenary.”
“Mercenary?” Bingley could not help asking.
His friend’s face grew ever so much darker as he pondered how much he could entrust to his friend, but in the end only said: “Yes, mercenary. As it not only concerns me I would rather not go into detail.”
After what had already been disclosed to him this could only mean that it involved the Darcy-family itself. Charles Bingley shook his head slightly as he thought about his friend’s younger sister. Could it really be...?
“And now he is here and has joined the militia.” he at last stated flatly.
“Yes. He must be truly desperate to have done so. A decent day’s work is not to his taste, and unless it cannot be avoided he would never take up on such a scheme.” Darcy replied wryly, a sad chuckle escaping his lips.
“And what do you intend to do?”
“I honestly do not know. What do you propose?”
“Me?” Charles Bingley looked astonished at this open declaration and the consequent question from a man he had till then always thought to know exactly what to do, and in every situation.
Thinking the matter over for a moment or two Bingley at last answered: “Taking into consideration what you have just told me I cannot help but think we should warn our friends. After all he has the appearance of a good and decent man, and if others have failed to recognise him for what he was, including your own father of all people, a wise and observant man, I would think it necessary to make his character known.”
“There is but one downside to this, Bingley.” Darcy said contemplatively.
“And that is?”
“It will fall on you to do so.”
Fitzwilliam Darcy knew all too well he was not in the good graces of Meryton’s populace, while his friend was the more so. He had not planned to stay as long as he had already, and as his spirits at the time of their arrival had been so exceptionally low that he had not made even the slightest effort to please. Now this neglectful behaviour came to haunt him. Had he behaved with more cordiality he, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, would not be in need of help in such a simple task as warning the inhabitants of a small market town. To warn them about the machinations of one of the greatest scoundrels in the whole of England.
“I will speak to Jane about it.” Bingley said at last.
“Speak to her sister.”
“Which one?”
“Miss Elizabeth.” Darcy answered with some impatience. “She will listen to you and will be listened to without making any excuses for the man, or even pity him once she has heard about Wickham’s perfidy.”
Bingley had to admit that this statement held some truth, Jane never saw any evil in anybody. And no matter how horrible a person had behaved, she would try and justify it somehow.
“There is one more thing, Bingley, I would like to talk to you about.” Darcy started hesitantly, his eyes cast to the ground.
“Yes?”
“Your attachment to Miss Bennet.”
A slight blush crept over the face of the younger man.
“If you are not careful, Bingley, you will raise hopes.” Darcy carried on, “Hopes of marrying her. Are you sure you are prepared for such an alliance?”
“I see you have spoken to Caroline.” The bitterness and exasperation in Bingley’s voice was hard to miss.
“No, I managed to avoid that.” was Darcy’s dry reply at which his friend could not help but snort.
“If you have any objections to her supposedly low connections, they do not matter to me in the slightest.” Bingley stated decidedly.
“Even though they might be objectionable, I could not care less about them. You have inherited money acquired by trade and seriously, I sell my produce on the market as well, which technically also puts me in trade, even though I keep an agent to do that kind of work for me. No, it is more about her and her mother’s attitude.”
“What is wrong with Jane’s attitude? She is perfectly amiable. - Oh yes, of course! She smiles too much...” Bingley replied testily, his mouth set in a firm line.
“It is not that, my friend. She can smile as much as she likes, but I can see she has captured your heart, but are you certain you have hers?”
At these words his friend began to smile broadly.
“Yes, I can feel it. You know, for a man who is guarding his own heart so carefully, I am quite surprised that you are unable to detect it in another person equally guarded.” he teased.
“What do you mean?”
“That I am very sure Jane loves me back is what I mean, old man. And as for your own heart, I do believe my sister has every reason to be jealous, has she not?”
“Absolutely not!” Darcy replied with vehemence, though adding in his mind: ‘Caroline Bingley has no reason to be jealous as I have never paid her any attention in the first place.’
They sat for a while longer, now that all the serious issues had been addressed, joking around like two schoolboys in a moment of carefree cheerfulness until going into the house could no longer be avoided.
It was no surprise to either of them to find Mr. Hurst idling on the sofa pretending to sleep so he could escape a conversation with his sister in law, a trick she, oddly enough, still had not figured out. But seriously, the man had the patience of a saint when it came to that, being not half as morose once they went outside for sports or went to one of their clubs in London.
“Oh Charles, what have you been up to?” Caroline cooed as soon as they entered, only to wrinkle her nose as soon as they had done so. “I thought I saw you return earlier, but I must have been mistaken.”
Neither of the men replied.
“You must be tired after such a long ride. Shall I order you some refreshment?”
Behind her Hurst grimaced, his eyes only opened wide enough to be closed the instance Miss Bingley would turn around again.
“And how is Miss Bennet? Is she any better?” Caroline carried on with undeterred falsehood.
“Yes, she is perfectly well and sends her regards and thanks for your kind hospitality.” her brother at last replied.
“Oh, it was nothing!” Caroline cried out, and Darcy could not help but agree.
Not only had neither of the Bennet sisters caused any inconvenience, nor had Caroline Bingley gone out of her way to attend to either of them. It had been Louisa Hurst who, time and time again, had proposed to sit by Miss Bennet’s bedside and who had made sure she would be properly cared for. Mr. Hurst, giving an inconspicuous snort, seemed to share his opinion.
Batting her eyes and smiling widely Miss Bingley squeezed in between the two gentlemen, linking her left arm with Darcy’s right and her right with her brother’s left to steer them out of the salon.
“Let us not wake up Mr. Hurst. You know how grumpy he can be when disturbed. I will make sure tea is served in an instant. You must feel rather cold. The weather is growing uncomfortable, is it not? Would you like to refresh before taking tea?” she enquired, ignoring the stony glare from the man on her left and the befuddled one from her sibling.
For a moment Darcy considered not changing into something not smelling of horse but then thought the better of it, as a few minutes to himself at this point were most welcome. The day which had begun so promising had turned foul and even though they had come up with a plan, he wondered if it would work. Miss Elizabeth already seemed charmed by the one man he would have dearly liked to forget and never meet again. This he could not even hold it against her, as,
like Bingley had pointed out, wiser people had been fooled by George Wickham. She had smiled warmly at Wickham, while she had looked at Darcy with nothing more than distant civility and some curiosity.
It had stung him somehow, though Darcy was hard pressed to even admit it to himself.
Chapter 3
♥♥♥
The next day a cold constant rain sat in trapping the whole Netherfield party at home, as unpleasant as this was. Caroline became even more persistent in her obnoxious attentions to Darcy, so much so that at last he once more sought refuge at the writing table. - Not that this would deter her from constantly nagging him with her good wishes and enquiries to his sister. He did not bother with informing Miss Bingley that he was not writing to Georgiana at all, but to his cousin. Still, this was better than having to converse with her. Perhaps he should adapt some of Hurst’s behaviour. It seemed quite tempting to pretend to be asleep on a sofa, had he not despised any kind of pointless idleness.
When the rain had still not ceased the following day, he and Bingley made their escape to ride over to Longbourn to call on the Miss Bennet’s properly, despite the weather. And Bingley, always true to his word would speak to Miss Elizabeth.
The rain was pouring down heavily and the roads were muddy and slippery, not exactly ideal weather for a ride cross country. They made but slow progress and were drenched through when they finally arrived at their destination. Their appearance caused something of a stir, and while Mrs. Bennet fussed over Mr. Bingley, Darcy was left in relative peace. Walking down the stairs with a spring in her step Elizabeth Bennet appeared, and seeing the hubbub her eyes lit up in amusement.
This sight alone was worth the wet ride and Darcy’s heart skipped a beat. Seeing him standing somewhat forlorn in the corner next to the entrance door she approached him, enquiring if she could be of any help. The look she gave him made it perfectly clear, that it was once again only out of common courtesy she cared for his comfort and nothing more. He was a guest at her family’s home and as such she would be as polite to him as she would be to any other visitor.
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth.” he smiled, feeling slightly foolish for admiring her as much as he did.
And yet it could not be helped, she was with no doubt the most enchanting woman he had ever met, with her lively manners, playful disposition and her captivating eyes.
“I – well yes, a cup of tea perhaps would be nice.” he at last managed to say, feeling even more foolish for his lack of words.
“And a towel?” she laughed, raising a challenging eyebrow before taking his hat and retreating to the back of the house.
“Oh, over to the fire, Mr. Bingley, you are soaked through. We cannot have you ill now, can we? Jane, Jane get a blanket my dear. Quickly!” Mrs. Bennet still fussed over his friend and her youngest daughters fluttered around like chickens, while only the eldest seemed truly concerned, her face clouded over with worry. Bingley indeed seemed to be right. Looking closely, and a bit beyond the surface, it did seem Jane Bennet cared for him deeply, and despite her relations she would suit his friend perfectly. - ‘As Miss Elizabeth would suit you...’ a soft voice in his head whispered, sounding suspiciously like that lady herself.
“Though it would be terribly funny if he got ill and had to stay!” One of the younger girls giggled as she skipped over to open the door to the sitting room.
“How can you say so, Kitty?!” she was promptly scolded by her mother, who all but shoved Bingley in the direction of the comfortable parlour. As soon as she had done so the door was closed and Darcy was left standing in the hallway all on his own, which was just as well, he mused.
“Where is everybody?” Miss Elizabeth had returned, handing him a towel which he gratefully took.
Darcy pointed towards the sitting room before taking a deep breath, deciding that, as it did not appear Bingley would get the chance to do so after all, he should try his luck and speak to Miss Elizabeth himself instead.
“Miss Bennet, could I have a word with you?”
“But of course.” her face was nothing but polite curiosity.
“Is there perhaps a quiet place not quite as public as this?”
Elizabeth’s eyes danced in amusement, her quick mind showing as well as her wonderful sense of humour. How different she was to the falsely complying Miss Bingley and her ridiculous, unnerving schemes...
“I am afraid that might be difficult in this household. The library is occupied by my father and my cousin, Mr. Collins, the living room by my mother and sisters. The dining room, perhaps?” she offered, still holding the teacup she had also brought in her hand.
“That would be just perfect.”
Leading the way they entered the vacant room and sat down at the empty polished table, where at last she put down his cup.
“So, what is it you would like to speak to me about?”
Now, how to begin? Taking a sip of his tea Fitzwilliam Darcy sighed and then began: “Miss Bennet, what I have to tell you is not pleasant, but it must be said nonetheless as it is of utmost importance. The day before yesterday I saw that you made the acquaintance of a young man who, as I have gathered, has taken a commission with the militia currently stationed in Meryton.”
“You mean Mr. Wickham, I suppose? I thought you might know him. So?”
Her expression of defiance did not escape him. He was too late! Wickham had already begun to spread rumours. The man was an idle scoundrel, but he was still a quick one.
“Well yes, Mr. Wickham indeed is the topic. Mr. Wickham you must know, is the son of a most honourable man who had the care of our estate under my father. One could say he was our steward, but that would only be true to an extent. In truth he was a trusted friend and I, being almost of the same age as the young Mr. Wickham, consequently grew up with him. We played as boys, enjoyed the same standard of education, and when old Mr. Wickham died my father made provisions for him, intending him for the church with a valuable living promised to him.”
He looked up and saw he had caught her attention, her eyes never leaving his face. But the usual sparkle of good humour was gone from her gaze to be replaced by an expression he could not make out. Was it anger? Or contempt? Or plain incredulity?
“And?” she enquired as he had stopped, wondering at how to proceed.
“It is not easy to put it into words without making it sound vengeful.” he admitted, taking another sip of the wonderfully hot tea.
“Oh, really?” she snapped, standing, her hands flat on the surface of the wide table between them, eyes sparkling with anger. “Then let me tell you something, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Wickham has told me all about your behaviour towards him and I am in no mood to hear any more of it! I cannot imagine that you can justify your unjust, cruel and contemptuous treatment towards him in any way. It was despicable and dishonourable to say the least.”
“And this is your opinion of me?” Darcy now flared up also, looking incredulous.
“Can there be any other opinion on the matter, Sir? Is it not true that you denied him the living he was promised by your father? Out of nothing but jealousy?! That you drove him away from his home, leaving him desperate and destitute?”
His mouth fell open at the accusations laid at his door. Accusations which bore just enough truth to make them sound perfectly credible, and yet were nothing but lies.
“You take an eager interest in that gentleman.” he managed to say through gritted teeth, unable to gather his thoughts properly.
“Who could not do so, knowing about his misfortunes? And all of them because of nothing but your jealousy!” Elizabeth Bennet replied, her indignation apparent.
“My jealousy, Miss Bennet? Pray, what jealousy are you talking about? Did he tell you I compensated him for the living, at his own request? No? What a surprise! Did he tell you about how he gambled away the whole of the three thousand Pounds that were given to him by me to pursue his studies that he had claimed he wanted to take up? As well as the one thousand Pounds my father has l
eft him? No? - I came here to warn you about a most conniving man, Miss Elizabeth. It will not be on me if any misfortune should befall you.” he had got up from his seat likewise and straightened himself to all his considerable hight before adding: “If anything should befall your family, do not dare blame it on me. Do not you dare blame it on me!”
Walking out of the door he stopped just long enough to add: “Tell Bingley I have gone ahead.”
A moment later Elizabeth Bennet stormed past him, as he stood there in the hallway once more, and back up the stairs, clearly very upset. Her handkerchief pressed to her eyes she stumbled upstairs and already his anger began to evaporate. He could hardly hold it against her that she had believed a man as convincing as George Wickham. He himself had done so more than once, and had been disappointed time and time again. She had trusted the man’s supposed goodness and now had to deal with the shock of having been deceived so. In a community as open and reliable as the one she was used to, she presumably had little experience with men, and women, of George Wickham’s kind.
Darcy would have left immediately, if only he knew where his hat had disappeared to. Sighing he waited in the hopes a maid would happen along. It was not a maid however who appeared, but the snivelling parson he had seen in the company of the Bennet girls before. A young man with a pasty face and greasy hair, stoutly built and with an air of conceited arrogance about him that was the more prominent as he gave the overall appearance of immense stupidity.
“Oh!” the morose man exclaimed. “How may I help you? Where is everybody anyway?”
“Never mind.”
“William Collins at your service, Sir.” he bowed deeply, so deep in fact, that Darcy would not have been surprised to see him topple over.
“You would not know where to find my hat?” Mr. Darcy asked at last, tired of lingering in the draughty entrance hall.