Darcy and the Accomplished Woman

by Linda Phelps

  One can condescend in this fashion to people whom one expects never again to see. They have been invited to dine, but after the welcome they received today, I expect they will find a pretext with which to excuse themselves.

  After they had left, Louisa and I discussed Lizzy. Georgiana had little to say, but I have no doubt that she agreed with our observations. We three agreed that Lizzy is very brown with traveling, which makes her even less handsome than is her usual fate. She wore a muslin dress that was hardly suitable for a call at a house such as Pemberly. Perhaps it is the best she has. The aunt wore something suitable for her age but otherwise unremarkable.

  I mentioned her ‘fine eyes’, but Darcy seems to be no longer impressed by them, if he ever was. He says he considers her to be among the more handsome women he has known, of which, of course, I am first. He might have said more, but Louisa and Georgiana were present. Tomorrow I will encourage him to show me the lake. From the lawn I can see a pretty little bench just where the water curves around the bit of land. I will wear a hat made of straw trimmed with roses. He will recognize that I make an effort to keep my skin white. I will make a pretty picture seated on that little bench, with the lake on both sides. Perhaps the picture will encourage him to make me the offer.

  Darcy paced near the stable until he was sure it was not too early for him to call on Elizabeth. He had thought of her almost constantly since seeing her in his own home. How well she looked, sitting on one of his chairs with his lawn just outside the window. When he caught her eye, he saw no sign of the distain with which she had dismissed him at Rosings Park. As he mounted his horse, he surveyed his home and grounds. It needed only one thing to make it perfect.

  As he rode he rehearsed what he would say to her, and imagined what she would say to him. If fortune was good, the aunt and uncle would be elsewhere. He would continue to demonstrate that he was no longer the haughty, uncivil man who had so disgusted her at the rectory. Possibly he would find an opportunity to tell her that it was she who had bought about the alteration in his manners. They would walk in the gardens and perhaps visit a shop or two. It would be incorrect to make her a present at this point, but he might learn what type of thing she admired.

  Thus with an expectation of pleasure, Darcy followed the servant to her door. Before he could be announced, Elizabeth burst through it crying, “Oh! Where is my uncle?” When she saw him, she paused only a moment, and then said, “I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find Mr. Gardiner this moment on business that cannot be delayed. I have not an instant to lose.”

  “Good God! What is the matter?” cried Darcy. Then he recollected himself. “I will not detain you a minute, but let me, or let the servant, go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are not well enough—you cannot go yourself.”

  Elizabeth nodded and called back the servant. Once he had left, her legs failed her and she almost fell into a chair. Darcy, alarmed on her behalf, offered what comfort he could. “Shall I get you a glass of wine? You are very ill.”

  “No, I thank you,” said Elizabeth, and then burst into tears. “I have had some dreadful news from Longbourn.”

  Darcy thought immediately that a death had occurred. He pulled a chair up next to hers and waited in silence until she was ready to speak. If only he could think of a way to comfort her!

  At length she spoke. “I have just had a letter from Jane, with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone.”

  Not a death, thought Darcy.

  “My youngest sister has left all her friends—she has eloped—has thrown herself into the power of—Mr. Wickham.”

  “Wickham!” said Darcy. “How--?”

  “They are gone off together from Brighton. She has no money, nothing that can tempt him to—she is lost forever.”

  With an effort Darcy managed to keep his chair. He wished to stride about the room smashing the furnishings. Wickham and his dear Elizabeth’s sister!

  “If only I had explained some part of what I learnt to my own family,” said Elizabeth. “Had his character been known, this could not have happened. A wretched mistake.”

  “I am grieved, but is it absolutely certain?”

  “Oh, yes. They left Brighton on Sunday night and were traced almost to London. They are certainly not gone to Scotland.”

  “And what has been done, attempted, to recover her.”

  “My father is gone to London and Jane begs my uncle’s immediate assistance. I hope we shall be off in half an hour. But what can be done? It is in every way horrible.”

  Darcy nodded, and no longer able to sit, began to walk up and down the room, deep in thought. He did not realize Elizabeth watched him in growing despair. Finally he paused and said, “I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence. I will not torment you with vain wishes. This unfortunate affair will, I fear prevent my sister’s having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberly today.”

  “Oh, yes. Please give Miss Darcy our apologies. Say that urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as possible.”

  “It will be done,” said he. “I am sorry for your distress, but do not give way. There may be a happier outcome than you expect.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. He took one long glance at her tear-streaked face and closed the door behind him.

  Miss Bingley’s Journal (Pemberly)

  Lizzy Bennet is gone from Lambton! Louisa has it from Darcy himself that the wretched girl has left for Longbourn this very morning.

  “But why?” I ask. “That was certainly not her intention.”

  “Darcy says she has urgent business at home,” says Louisa.

  Such business, if it exists, is surely about the illness of a family member. I wish no one bad fortune, but if the patient cannot be Lizzy herself, let it be Jane Bennet. She has caused much trouble for us, and had there been sufficient time for Charles to consider it, she might yet cause more. One knows how sickly she is.

  My opinion is that Miss Lizzy found her pursuit of Mr. Darcy to be a failure. She has retreated from the scene, having just enough sense to avoid further embarrassment.

  I return from the library, where I ran across dear Darcy. I have never before seen him in such a state. He wrote on a sheet of paper, and then paced about the room, a scowl on his face. Then he repeated these activities again and again. When is Darcy ever distraught? I was almost frightened. How could I make him feel peaceful?

  “Mr. Darcy,” say I. “You are bothered. May I help you?”

  He stopped short. I think he had not realized I was in the room. “I thank you, but no,” said he. He added some words to the paper and called for a servant to convey it to his steward. “I must leave Pemberly for some days, but all will continue as if I am here. Please avail yourself of any convenience the house can offer.”

  Even in his state of agitation he thought of my comfort. Can anyone wonder that I have such warm feelings toward him? I only wish there was a way I could ease his distress. Soon after, he left the library, sending a servant to the stable to ready his horse. He pounded up the great staircase, calling for his man. In less than half an hour he had left the house. The rest of us stood some moments in a state of amazement. It subsequently became clear that no one knew why he had left in such haste or where he went.

  Soon Louisa beckoned me to another room. “He goes after Lizzy Bennet,” said she. “They have had some quarrel.”

  “And who is Lizzy Bennet to quarrel with Mr. Darcy?” said I. “They are not on such terms as that.”

  Louisa looked at me for a moment as if she wished to speak, but then she nodded her head.

  Poor Darcy, sacrificing time with me for the resolution of some urgent business. I can only hope he will soon be back at Pemberly. I have not yet sat with him on the pretty little bench.

  Miss Georgiana’s Journal (Pemberly)

  What has happened? Brother says that Miss Bennet and her aunt and uncle will not be dining with us. They have left Lambton for Lo
ngbourn on urgent business. “What business?” said I, but he merely took my hand and said that he too must leave for a few days. I am sure he had made no such plan. He goes to London on business. I had thought all business was settled before we came north.

  Kind as he was, I have seen his face take such a cast on only one other occasion; when I told him of the plan I had made with W. I thought then that he would have killed W. had he been anywhere near. Now as he readies himself to travel, I see that same expression, as if he would kill someone. How frightening to think of him urging his horse to London while in such a state.

  The sisters are relentless in their questions. Somehow they have come to believe that I have information about Brother that I am not sharing with them. I hold my tongue so that I do not share with them my additional grief at the departure of Miss Bennet. I can expect no sympathy should I voice it. Neither of them would pretend to contain their joy at that news. Caroline claims to believe the two departures have no relationship to each other, but when she says so, Louisa shakes her head. Louisa and I both know that Miss Elizabeth is a favourite of Brother. When will Miss Bingley realize it too?

  Darcy’s Journal (traveling)

  I am the one to blame. I know what W. is, I should have discovered a way to announce to the decent people with whom he came in contact that he was not to be trusted with either their money or their daughters. I permitted my fear for G.’s reputation to rule me. And this is the result!

  I have never before felt as I did this morning when Elizabeth wept over this disaster. I wanted to take her in my arms and rest her head on my shoulder. I wanted to smooth her hair until she controlled her tears, but I could do neither. It was agony to hear her blame herself for the behavior of her sister and W. Had I not trusted her with my sister’s story? Had I not meant to warn her against him? Elizabeth and W! She could never be so foolish. But W. and Elizabeth’s youngest sister? I believe she is the sister who insisted to Bingley that he host a ball. She has some of the look of a woman, but she is still a child. What a simple task W. had. He has no trouble finding girls of fifteen years who will respond to his charms.

  I will find a way to right this atrocity. It is just the sort of thing that will provide scandal of which all of Meryton can speak. The entire family will be disgraced.

  I will find where W. has taken this girl. Once I have, I will decide whether this time I should call him out.

  Darcy handed his lathered horse to the stable hand and demanded that a fresh one be ready in a quarter hour. He exchanged his dust covered garments for fresher clothes and immediately began to search London for Wickham and Lydia Bennet. By the time the streets became dark, he had eliminated several taverns and dog fighting arenas. Wickham seemed to have vanished.

  He next thought of Mrs. Younge, the woman who had contrived with Wickham to encourage Georgiana to elope. She also proved difficult to trace, for women of her character did not have fixed addresses. After two days and a liberal giving out of shillings and pound notes, he managed to gain information that led him to her.

  He discovered that Mrs. Younge had taken a large house on Edward Street from which she received rents from a number of unsavory lodgers. She needed considerable persuasion to admit that she knew where Wickham stayed and next to offer the direction. Darcy controlled a desire to throttle her until she gave him what he needed, but as it happened, the matter was a financial one. Once the terms were agreed upon, she told him what he needed to know, took her compensation, and slammed the door, locking it loudly behind her.

  Darcy located the place, a lodging in a seedy looking building in a dismal quarter of London. He waited until after midnight to approach the place. Such a delay might have placed him in some danger, for the citizens of the neighbourhood stayed on the streets until the hour was late, and they gaped and muttered to each other at the sight of the prosperous appearing stranger. Surely he had items of value on his person, if only he could be made to unburden himself of them. However, so grim was Darcy’s countenance that none was willing to approach him.

  Wickham opened the door to his knock, stepping back when he saw who his visitor was. Darcy pushed his way into the room, never taking his eyes from the despised man. “Sit, if you please,” he ordered, and Wickham dropped into a chair.

  “Who is it, my dearest,” called a voice from a back room. When Wickham did not reply, Lydia Bennet came to see for herself, tying the sash of a dressing robe as she entered the room. “Mr. Darcy!” cried she.

  “Yes,” said Darcy. “Wickham, I demand that you send this girl back to her family immediately.”

  “Well,” said Wickham lazily, “I do not wish to do that. Not at this time.”

  “We love each other,” said Lydia, moving to sit in Wickham’s lap, “don’t we, my dearest?”

  Wickham smiled smugly at Darcy. “So you see, there is no purpose to your calling upon us. We are happy as we are.”

  “Miss Lydia,” said Darcy. “You must think of your family. You are causing them much grief and shame. You have harmed them all.”

  “What do I care when I have my dear Wickham?” she cried. “I am in London with the man I love more than any other. I have been to plays and operas that they will never see. What can they understand of that?”

  “How do you live?” demanded Darcy. “What is the source of the money that provides this lodging?” He looked around the dark room in disgust.

  Wickham leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out before him. “There are ways, Darcy,” said he.

  “Yes, gambling and false promises to merchants,” said Darcy.

  “Perhaps you would like to lend me a few pounds,” said Wickham.

  “I think not,” said Darcy. And placing his hat on his head, he let himself out the door.

  The next day he watched until Wickham left the house. Then he knocked until the day servant opened the door. “I will see your mistress,” he said.

  Lydia Bennet, not in the least abashed by her plight, welcomed him into the shabby sitting room. Upon glimpsing her face, Darcy knew she would resist his words. Still, he felt he must make an attempt to send her back to her family, if they would accept her. “Miss Bennet, I ask you again to think of those whom you harm by this unspeakable act of disobedience to all you have been taught.”

  “I have been taught, Mr. Darcy, that what is unspeakable is a woman without a husband.”

  “You have no husband,” said Darcy. “Do you expect Wickham to marry you?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Lydia. “We will be married some time or another.”

  “My dear, Miss Lydia,” said Darcy. “You have put yourself in considerable peril. I offer myself as intermediary with your family. I will do all possible to convince them to receive you back at Longbourn, and I will see you there myself.”

  “Leave my Wickham?” said Lydia. “I will not do so. None at Longbourn are as important to me as he is. He is my dear husband in all but name.”

  Darcy took a breath. “I must implore you to consider your fate if he does not give you his name. What will become of you when he tires of you and searches for a young woman who can provide him with the money he needs to maintain himself? You cannot offer that. He will abandon you as soon as a richer girl appears. I have known Wickham my entire life. He is not a man of honour.”

  “That is a falsehood,” said Lydia. “He loves me with all his heart.”

  “I have discovered that he has left his regiment,” said Darcy. “That is not entirely because of the scandal he has caused with you. That is because of gambling debts and unpaid tradesmen. How do you expect him to support himself without a post in the army? How do you expect him to support you?”

  “I have an hundred pounds each year,” said Lydia. “We will use that.”

  She was yet a child. In a gentler voice than he had used before he asked, “What amount do you spend in a year on bonnets and dresses?”

  This silenced her for a moment while she ran the figures through her head. “It does not matter.
He will find something for us.”

  Darcy shook his head and made his farewell.

  Darcy’s Journal (London)

  It will come down to money. W. is, as always, in debt. I will offer to pay his debts when he marries Lydia Bennet. What a shabby life she will lead with such a husband, but she has forfeited all chances of a better one.

  If only there is another way to right the wrong I have brought about. I have decided to settle a sum upon him, and a sinecure upon her, constructed so that he cannot touch the principal. He will be bored by her in a few weeks, but at least she will be able to call herself a married woman. These negotiations may take some time, but to relieve the fears of my dear Elizabeth, I will call upon the Gardiners and tell them I have located Lydia. They will immediately inform the Bennets, which will ease much of their sorrow. I will insist that they write not a word of my involvement in this situation. If there is anything I do not deserve it is gratitude.

  Tomorrow I will take Wickham to my attorney and offer him a sum to marry the girl. He will accept my offer. He is a practical man and will realize he has no better choice. I foresee that I will be badgered by him for money for the rest of my life, but that penalty is a small price to pay when I consider the harm I have done.

  In the meantime, the girl must be got away from him until the wedding. Her reputation is already in ruins in Longbourn, but I will not accept her living as his wife until she is one. I will speak to the Gardiners and pray they take her in. Tomorrow is Sunday, so the banns can be posted for the first time. Luckily, the parish is which they now live does not have the sorts of parishioners that are likely to have any curiosity about the couple. I have accomplished this much in a few days.

  Neither of them demonstrates the least feeling of shame for what they have done, and I expect they will never feel such shame as long as they are together.

  Miss Bingley’s Journal (Pemberly)

  The house is quite dull without Darcy. We have not yet had a letter from him explaining where he has gone and why. How tedious it must be for men to be always at the call of their businesses. Darcy writes so well—that is, his penmanship is so superb—that he can manage much of his business through the mail. I have continued to offer to mend his pens, but like any man, he wants no help. Charles is happy for me to help him with his pens, although his subsequent writing is not so handsome as Bingley’s.