*****
Darcy could not believe his eyes. What was Wickham doing here on the arm of Miss Elizabeth? He had recognized her light pleasing figure immediately before him and he led Calypso off the road and into the brush. They were walking his way when he soon recognized Wickham’s confident strut. Why was he here? And how did he know Elizabeth? How can it be? The last he knew, Wickham was still chasing women in brothels and recklessly gambling any money he found.
As they approached, he heard his name spoken. “Are you fond of Mr. Darcy?” was the question. . .Hmmm, yes, what does Elizabeth think of me . . . what? Proud? A certain degree of pride was appropriate for the Master of Pemberley! He listened closer. Oh, no, she had heard him at the assembly say that awful comment about not being handsome! He had regretted it the moment it had left his lips, but he never imagined that it would have made its way to her ears. He listened closer as Wickham said something he could not make out and it made her blush. No! First Georgiana and now his Elizabeth? He reminded himself that she was not his Elizabeth, and from the sounds of it she wanted nothing to do with him. He sat down on the moist ground. They were out of earshot anyway. My valet will not appreciate the grass stains on my breeches.He sat there contemplating for quite a while what this meant. How could she not like him? Hadn’t she enjoyed the time at Netherfield? Hadn’t she smiled at him while dancing with him? And those looks! The half-smiles with one eyebrow arched in that teasing manner. Surely she has some feelings for him! So much for offering for her! How could she not at least admire him? He was wealthy, and many young ladies had commented to him about how they thought him handsome. He knew he was well-read, as was she, and they had shared a few conversations about books at Netherfield. She seemed to challenge his every thought, which was such a refreshing tone as most ladies just agreed with him and offered little intelligence to the conversation. He stood up. Surely she must care a little about me.
Finally he got up and took his horse and walked it towards Meryton. His mood was low indeed. He must find a way to warn Elizabeth about Wickham! He led Calypso on and almost mounted her when he saw a book in the grass. It was titled Evelina. Is this not the same book Elizabeth was reading at Netherfield and tapping her foot so temptingly in the library? He picked it up and paged through it. Yes, he was sure it was hers. It had the same water stain on the front leather. He remembered it well because as he was “trying” not to look at her in that library and “trying” not to be seduced by the gentle tapping of those tiny slippered feet, and “trying” not to watch her lips move with the words of the book . . . he focused hard on the book. Yes, it was hers. He knew it was at best a flimsy excuse to pay a call at Longbourn, but perhaps he could return it to her. He told Calypso, “Looks as if we will get to see her today afterall.”
He had hardly turned his horse around when he caught sight of her coming around the bend humming a bouncy tune. He knew that tune. It was the same one they danced to! Could she be thinking of him and their dance together?
He spoke then, obviously startling her as she looked up in alarm, “Miss Elizabeth, if I am not mistaken, this is your book. I was walking and found it, you must have . . .”
She closed the distance between them. “Oh! Yes, I dropped it when I ran into an acquaintance. Thank you.” She reached her hand out for it.
He hesitated, keeping the book near his person. “Perhaps I might walk you to your destination? The sun is getting close to setting and I would hate for you to walk alone in the dark.” Please, please say yes!
“Oh, no, I just came back for my book.” She held her arm out again, but when he didn’t give it to her she raised her eyebrow and said, “Mr. Darcy, what do I have to do for you to give me my book?”
His breath caught as he smiled and thought of a few good ideas, but none of them involved her keeping her reputation intact.
She looked at him in as stern a way as possible and then bit her lip. Why isn’t he giving me my book? She dropped her arm and said, “Very well, if you insist, you may walk me back to Longbourn. But I insist you give me my book by the time we get there.”
“Agreed.” He let out his breath. She was teasing him. That was a good sign. He must warn her about Wickham! “There is something I would like to talk to you about.”
Oh no, not another man asking probing questions that I do not want to answer! She looked saucily at him and laughed. “This sounds a serious matter!”
Although he loved to hear her laugh, he was not in a laughing mood. “I will get right to the point, a Mr. Wickham . . . he is in town?”
“Yes, he is an officer stationed here; he mentioned that he knew Georgiana and yourself.”
He blurted out, “He is not to be trusted. You must avoid his attentions at all costs!”
“Mr. Darcy, it is not for you to decide who I am to be acquainted with. Is there a reason you have taken a dislike to him?”
He stopped walking and in doing so, so did she. She looked at him in that taunting look that said “defy me.” Could he reveal Georgiana’s near elopement with Wickham at Ramsgate? How much should she know? Would Georgiana appreciate him telling her new friend about her falling for such a mercenary man? All that man had wanted was her thirty-thousand pounds! He had not cared for Georgiana at all! Then he remembered Georgiana in her distress yesterday and how much it reminded him of that near-elopement. He still did not know the cause because Georgiana was still keeping to her room. “I must ask you a question first. Yesterday Georgiana came home from Longbourn prematurely and very tearful. Do you know what happened?”
Elizabeth had been so taken back by Wickham’s presence that she hadn’t had time to think about how suddenly Georgiana had left. “It was rather odd now what you mention it. I thought she was just being shy with strangers. No sooner had Lydia and Kitty came home that she left! I hardly had time to introduce her to . . .”
“So it was your sisters after all! I should have known.” He started walking quickly again, torn between poor Georgiana and his dear Elizabeth. He hadn’t taken but a few steps when suddenly he realized Elizabeth had not started walking also and he turned around to face her. She had her hands on her hips and her jaw was set. He knew that look. She had it in a more subtle form after every snide comment Miss Bingley made about the Bennet relations. Remembering “Oh your uncle is in trade, that must be nice,” then that look. “Oh they live in Cheapside; at least they are in London,” then that look. He was going to get it for sure. He reminded himself that her family’s poor manners meant little to him now that he knew of his feelings for her. It was a new conviction, just days old, but he needed to be better about accepting her family for who they were. He recommitted himself to look past her poor relations and lack of connections. “Miss Elizabeth, I am sorry I interrupted you. Forgive me for what I said, I have just been so worried . . . wait, who did you introduce Georgiana to?”
“Mr. Darcy, you are unbelievable! You mock me and my family, are mortified by any public interaction with them, nearly throw me into the carriage to avoid any other humiliating occurrences, and you think you can just apologize? I think not! Now give me my book, NOW!” She reached for her book and snatched it away but in doing so her bookmark fell out. It was a white crocheted bookmark that Jane had made for her two years ago. She reached down for it at the same time Mr. Darcy did, but he was quicker.
“Your bookmark, Miss Elizabeth. But please, do not take my thoughtlessness as any sign that you should not head my warnings about Wickham.” The way he said that bastard’s name was more like a curse. He recalled himself and stiffened. “Pardon me, Miss Bennet. I truly apologize for any offense I may have caused you.”
She was taken aback by this level of disdain from even Mr. Darcy. Was there really some reason to be careful around Mr. Wickham besides Darcy’s pride? What had he said? “He is not to be trusted. You must avoid his attentions at all costs.” She had had quite enough of Mr. Darcy! Who was he to determine that Wickham was not worthy of her attention? All her previous confusio
n abated as she gazed at him. In spite of any kind attention he had given to his sister, Mr. Darcy remained as prideful as ever. Especially when it came to his so-called social inferiors, she thought. She was biting her lip, but even that couldn’t hold back her next remark. “Well, perhaps Mr. Bingley should not invite the officers to the Netherfield Ball he promised next Tuesday! Then I would not have to choose between a man that has a selfish disdain for others and a man who is charming and handsome.” She snatched her bookmark and marched towards Longbourn.
The look of scorn on Elizabeth’s face was grave indeed. Selfish disdain? Charming and handsome? It didn’t take him long to figure out which man was who. She hates me.
*****
I must do something! But what? Elizabeth will not listen and I have already tried to warn her. Remembering her words, “It is not for you to decide who I am to be acquainted with,” he knew she was right. He had tried to warn her but it was not his place to do so. Perhaps I could warn Mr. Bennet. But not in person— a letter would have to suffice. But could he trust Mr. Bennet to keep the story of Georgiana in confidence? It was a story that, if widely known, could ruin Georgiana. Darcy did not know Mr. Bennet well, and although he looked like a sensible man, he was still married to Mrs. Bennet. An anonymous letter would be best. He sat down on his writing table and started writing out the most painful memory of coming upon Georgiana and Mr. Wickham a mere day before their planned elopement. As he wrote, the pain became fresh all over again. It hurt to think he had procured the services of Mrs. Younge without truly looking into her references. It pained him that he had been so impressed with outward manners that he did not recognize the special needs of Georgiana at the time. It pained him that Wickham, who was one of his closest friends growing up, could be so inherently bad. Even his own father had been deceived by the charming ways of Wickham. There were several times since his father died that he felt that each experience with Wickham would be the last, but he was always wrong. He doubted that this time was any different. Somehow he felt that Wickham was up to something. At least this letter would help protect Elizabeth. He continued writing until he was spent. He couldn’t quite figure out how to close the letter. He had decided to make it anonymous, but how should he sign it? He decided that “a concerned observer” would suffice. He sealed it without his usual crest and sent it by way of express.
He then pondered all that had happened in the last two days. Miss Bingley said that the Bennet sisters came home with officers. Wickham was an officer now stationed here in Meryton. Both Miss Bingley and Elizabeth mentioned an introduction of some sort. The level of distress Georgiana had was great indeed. It suddenly hit him. Wickham must have been one of the officers at Longbourn! That would surely explain Miss Bingley’s description of how quickly and “nearly rude” Georgiana had left. Yes, poor Georgie ran into that blasted Wickham! He now understood why Georgiana was so distraught. Wickham! How could one man bring such turmoil in his life? And now he was influencing Elizabeth! Charming and handsome indeed!
No matter the degree of anger he felt for Wickham, he could not stop the heartbreak he felt upon hearing how Elizabeth thought him prideful and how he had a “selfish disdain” for others. Selfish disdain? He had never had the ease that Bingley or his cousin Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam had in meeting new people. He never seemed to smoothly grasp the importance of a conversation when he was not familiar with the other party. He wasn’t witty and rarely even teased his own sister! Yet he was drawn to these types of people. Richard, Bingley, Elizabeth, and if he was being honest, at one time, even Wickham. They all seemed to have the social ease to talk freely and without restraint. It seemed to him that their confidence was far greater than his own. But how could she interpret his lack of confidence and social shyness as pride? It didn’t make any sense to Mr. Darcy. No easy answers came to him, no matter how long he thought on it. One thing was for certain, Elizabeth didn’t know him well enough; she needed more time to get to know him. Perhaps the better explanation for her interpreting his behavior as prideful was that he didn’t know her well enough to feel comfortable and be relaxed. It was so much better at Netherfield. He felt more comfortable in a small setting and especially with Georgiana there. Perhaps a small setting was the answer to this problem. If he was going to show Elizabeth that he was indeed pleasant he would have to have more interactions with her. Now that he had admitted his feelings for her, thanks to Calypso, he wouldn’t avoid her anymore. Fighting the feelings that were stirring in him was the only reason he didn’t seek her out as often as he would have liked at Netherfield.
*****
Mr. Bennet didn’t usually get letters by way of express. It came late in the evening and he went to his study. No identifying marks or crests were on it which made him all the more curious. Who could be sending something of an urgent manner at this time of evening? He opened it and read:
Dear Mr. Bennet,
It has come to my attention that a certain officer named George Wickham is stationed in Meryton. I have a long standing relationship with the man and I feel I must warn you on behalf of your daughters. It pains me to reveal an incident that occurred in spring this year, and I must impress upon you my strong desire for your continued secrecy on the matter.
I had employed an older lady to be a companion for my fifteen year old sister. It was not long before the two took a holiday to the beach at Ramsgate. Mr. Wickham schemed with this companion to encourage private meetings and unchaperoned walks, which led to my sister feeling very much in love. Mr. Wickham then enlisted the companion’s help in convincing my sister to elope, all the while promising the companion a handsome share of the thirty-thousand pound dowry given upon said marriage. I happened to surprise her the day before the proposed elopement and she confided in me. If I had been just one day later he would have succeeded! Mr. Wickham had only mercenary motives as he left her heartbroken as soon as I made it clear that he would not get a farthing. He is not to be trusted! I cannot emphasize this enough!
I recognize that this may be difficult to hear, but I am under the impression that he has been calling on your daughters. I pray you will be prudent in your decisions on this matter.
From a concerned observer
Mr. Bennet folded the letter back up. He placed it carefully on his desk and wondered about this man Wickham. If Wickham truly was mercenary then there was no harm to his daughters as they had little dowry and all of Meryton knew that! The masculine handwriting never mentioned any other motives or dangers besides financial ones. He had heard his Lydia mention Mr. Wickham, but only about how charming and handsome he was. Perhaps he had better look into Mr. Wickham and meet him himself. He picked up his book and relaxed back into his chair. Perhaps another day.
*****
“Well, Denny! I think Meryton has many prospects that will be quite the source of, shall we say, entertainment? I can think of a few muslin skirts around here I would like to be raised,” and then as an afterthought as he saw the barmaid was near enough to hear, “in dance, that is.” Mr. Wickham smirked and brought the whiskey back up to his lips. He knew he was well into his cups but his heart was light. Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, here in Meryton!
Mr. Denny said, “To the young, beautiful ladies of Meryton!” He raised his glass and heard the crack of glass against glass as they toasted. Denny wasn’t raised the son of a steward of a wealthy land owner like Wickham, nor did he go to Cambridge like Wickham but he had seen his fair share of “society.” He had been raised in a shady inn along the road to London since he was six years old. Although born to a gentleman, his mother was widowed early on and none of his “gentlemen” relatives took them in. His mother was forced to work as a barmaid just to have food on the table. And growing up with a mother as a barmaid meant he’d been drinking whiskey almost since he could remember. This was why he could keep his head about him during high stakes card games like this. Not with Wickham, however, for that man could keep his wits about him when he drank.
Growing up, De
nny had seen gentlemen come in their fine clothes on their way to London and stop at the inn and “accidentally” brush up against his mother or outwardly grope her as she served them. He saw her place coins in her breasts and sneak out to the alley where soon enough, so did the said gentleman. No, he did not have any respect for those who called themselves gentlemen. He chose the militia so eventually he could give them their marching orders! So far his six months had been time well served. It seemed the red coat was quite useful with the ladies and he’d met many friends that seemed to have the same taste for women that he had.
“Denny, I feel my luck is changing!” Wickham looked at his cards in his hands and the last few coins he had in front of him. Well, maybe not at this game tonight, but it is changing.
Denny was a little nervous as he looked at his own hand; it was good, but not a sure bet. He had already bet quite a bit hoping for that ace or jack to come along. His winnings were substantial and Wickham already owed him six months’ salary! If he didn’t know where Wickham was day and night, he would certainly be demanding payment. Wickham must have a pretty good hand to feel his luck was changing. “Luck? Who needs luck? It just takes knowing your enemy’s weakness to make your own luck!”
Mr. Darcy's Promise Page 4