Elizabeth Bennet's Excellent Adventure: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary

by Regina Jeffers

  Darcy looked upon his cousin with interest.

  “Odd, it is that even with your numerous conquests of some of the ton’s most delectable beauties that you possess no knowledge of a woman’s pride. Having to stand before friends and foes with a chin raised in defiance requires a special kind of woman. The questioning looks and the sniggers behind cupped hands create wounds more dangerous to the heart than any blow I suffered at the hands of my assailants. My ribs heal, and my scars and bruises disappear, but Elizabeth has yet to know that I would attempt to walk on water to prove my love for her.

  “My absence, though no fault of my making, wounded not only her pride, but also Elizabeth’s self confidence. She spent a lifetime with a mother who spoke of Miss Bennet’s beauty and Miss Lydia’s vivacious spirit. None of Elizabeth’s most charming qualities are among those her mother declares as what a man desires in a wife.

  “And although Elizabeth decries her mother’s lack of sensibility, Mrs. Bennet’s voice remains the small one in Elizabeth’s head that says, ‘No man will ever truly esteem you.’ It is no wonder my intended ran away. How could any person not flee from the idea that he is despised?

  “No, Fitzwilliam, it is I who require forgiveness for I denied my love for Elizabeth even from myself, for like her, I feared to be found wanting. While Elizabeth is under my roof, I plan to do all within my power to correct her misunderstandings.”

  * * *

  “You ladies should wait here until we all certain Mr. Wickham is not armed,” Darcy warned in a soft voice.

  They stood several feet removed from the room the tavern owner claimed occupied by Mr. Wickham and a young girl.

  “We understand,” Elizabeth whispered as she caught Mary closer to her.

  Darcy knew pride in how well Elizabeth kept control of her emotions. He realized how devastating it was for her and Miss Mary to witness how low Miss Lydia’s chosen alliance to Mr. Wickham brought the girl. Some of London’s most unsavory-looking residents populated the tavern’s common room.

  As Darcy turned to rejoin his cousin before the door, Elizabeth caught his arm to stay his steps.

  “Be careful, William,” she said with a bit of tremble lacing her words. “I could not bear it if…”

  She did not finish her warning, but Darcy heard Elizabeth’s breath catch when he caressed her cheek. He fought the urge to embrace her.

  With a knowing look of promise, he said, “I possess something for which to know care.”

  Reluctantly, he turned to the door. Darcy wished to be finished with this business with Wickham so he might turn his thought to a contented life with Elizabeth. With a nod of approval, he motioned Fitzwilliam to use the key they acquired from the tavern owner to unlock the door.

  He and the colonel and the ladies held their collective breaths as the bolt clicked its release, and then chaos erupted. Fitzwilliam shoved the door wide to send it banging into the wall. Bursting into the room, the colonel tackled Wickham as Darcy’s old chum reached for a gun upon the table. Furniture exploded from the weight of the men as they wrestled upon the floor. The vehemence with which the colonel pummeled Wickham’s body did not surprise Darcy. Fitzwilliam long desired to punish Wickham for Wickham’s attempted seduction of Georgiana.

  Meanwhile, Darcy caught a screeching Lydia Bennet and dragged her from where she attempted to pull the colonel from Wickham’s back.

  “Cease your protestations!” Darcy ordered as he gave the girl a good shake.

  Miss Lydia swung around to clip Darcy upon the point of his chin with a half open fist. Before Darcy could react, Elizabeth rushed into the fray to jerk her youngest sister upright.

  “Lydia Bennet, I shall thrash you within an inch of your life,” Elizabeth declared, “if you persist in this behavior.”

  Darcy wished he possessed the time to congratulate her. Elizabeth knew the exact tone to take the wind from the sails of a spoiled child. Their children would pray never to rile their mother so. Somehow, the idea pleased Darcy.

  Shoving his thoughts of sweet domesticity to the side for the moment, Darcy made his way to where Fitzwilliam and Wickham still struggled. Bending over the pair, Darcy cocked his Queen Anne pistol and pressed the nozzle into Wickham’s temple.

  “Move another muscle, and I will see your brains upon this floor,” he growled.

  Wickham went still, but the colonel presented his opponent another short punch to Wickham’s kidneys before ceasing his assault.

  Crawling off Wickham’s back to stand, Fitzwilliam straightened his uniform. Other than his hair and clothing in disarray, there was not a mark upon the colonel.

  “Not felt so hearty after a round of fisticuffs in many a year,” Fitzwilliam proclaimed.

  Mr. Wickham could not say the same. The side of Wickham’s face and neck were red and bruising where the colonel rained down blows upon Wickham’s head. There were numerous cuts upon his face and knuckles, likely from where Wickham attempted an escape.

  “Stand,” Darcy instructed.

  As he stepped back, Fitzwilliam bent again to catch Wickham by the scruff of the neck to haul him to his feet before slamming Wickham into a chair.

  “Such good cheer.”

  The colonel grinned with satisfaction.

  A whimper caught Darcy’s attention. He looked up to observe Elizabeth wrapping one of the blankets from the bed about her sister. It surprised Darcy to realize he did not notice the girl’s state of undress when he and the colonel entered the room.

  Sidestepping the broken furniture, Darcy moved to Elizabeth’s side.

  “Escort your sister to the room next door,” he said softly as he pressed the room key into her hand. “Make certain she is dressed properly.”

  Elizabeth nodded her understanding.

  “Mary, assist Lydia to the next room along the hall. I shall follow with her dress and brush.”

  As Mary Bennet placed an arm around a sobbing Lydia Bennet to lead the girl away, Darcy caught Elizabeth’s arm.

  “I realize this is awkward, but I must know if Mr. Wickham stole Miss Lydia’s innocence. You must press your sister on this matter and then bring me the news. It is necessary to know whether to insist that Mr. Wickham marry her or to pay another to claim her,” he whispered for Elizabeth’s ears only.

  She stared up at him, her eyes widening from the magnitude of what Darcy asked.

  “I shall not fail you,” Elizabeth said, at length, and then she followed her sisters from the room.”

  * * *

  Elizabeth set her shoulders before entering the room Mr. Darcy let at an exorbitant cost for the facility in order to protect her sister. She glanced to Mary and willed her sister to silence before approaching Lydia.

  As was typical, Lydia hiccupped her way through accusations against Mr. Darcy and the colonel.

  “I will hear no more of your allegations,” Elizabeth chastised as she shove a handkerchief into Lydia’s hand.

  “But, Lizzy,” Lydia began; however, Elizabeth caught her sister’s chin and lifted it roughly so Lydia might better view Elizabeth’s determination.

  “The man you defame is my intended, Lydia. If you expect sympathy from me you will speak of Mr. Darcy with a civil tongue.”

  “Mr. Darcy is not your betrothed,” Lydia charged. “Mr. Wickham told me Mr. Darcy traveled to Brighton because your affianced thought you with Wickham.”

  Elizabeth schooled the shock from her expression. The fact that Mr. Wickham tossed her reputation about struck another blow to Elizabeth’s pride.

  “Mr. Wickham exaggerates his appeal,” she bluffed. “Think upon it, Lydia. If Mr. Darcy were not meant to be my husband, why would he seek you out? Why would Mary and I accompany him? Do you think Papa would permit Mr. Darcy to act in his stead if Mr. Bennet did not consider Mr. Darcy as family?”

  Lydia shot a glance to Mary, and Elizabeth prayed the third Bennet daughter would not betray the ruse Elizabeth practiced.

  “Elizabeth acts with Mama’s permission,�
�� Mary assured.

  Elizabeth smiled at Mary. She knew it would go against Mary’s strong faith to speak an untruth, so Mary chose the next best option: She told Lydia the truth and left the insinuation to Lydia’s interpretation. Mrs. Bennet encouraged Elizabeth and Mary to bring Lydia home.

  Lydia’s bottom lip protruded in frustration.

  “Even so, what business do Mr. Darcy and his cousin have with Mr. Wickham? It is none of Mr. Darcy’s concern if George and I elope.”

  “It is my concern,” Elizabeth accused. “And Mary’s. And Jane’s. And Kitty’s. Your foolishness marks all your sisters. Do you think Mr. Bingley will marry Jane if your wanton actions become known? And how could the entire neighborhood not learn of your shame? You did not even have the good sense to choose someone unknown to all of Meryton.”

  “Mr. Wickham will marry me,” Lydia argued. “Then all will be forgiven.”

  “Has he said so?” Elizabeth demanded. “I wonder why he would. It is not as if Mr. Bennet can provide you a hefty dowry. Do you forget how Mr. Wickham abandoned us all when Miss King received her inheritance? We were nothing to him. I admit at the time I justified Mr. Wickham’s desertion, presenting him credit for acting to secure his future; yet, nonetheless, the truth is Mr. Wickham requires a wife with a substantial dowry. He cannot think to marry for love.”

  “Perhaps you are jealous that Mr. Wickham chose me over you–that it is I that he loves.”

  Lydia flipped her hair across her shoulder in a gesture of dismissal.

  “Has Mr. Wickham professed his love?” Elizabeth pressed.

  “Has Mr. Darcy professed his?” Lydia retorted. “You possess no more dowry than do I.”

  Elizabeth found her youngest sister’s naiveté frustratingly amusing.

  “Unlike Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy does not require a fortune to marry, but to answer your question, Mr. Darcy has most eloquently described his affections.”

  The thought of Mr. Darcy’s letter brought a slight blush to Elizabeth’s cheeks. The color added to the truth of her assertions.

  Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and set her chin in an act of defiance, which Elizabeth recognized from previous experience with her younger sister’s tantrums.

  “I do not care if Mr. Wickham is not as wealthy as your precious Mr. Darcy. George owns my heart. I will have him to husband.”

  “But he cannot choose you,” Elizabeth countered.

  “And why ever not?” Lydia snarled. “If we marry, any shame I brought to Papa’s name will be forgotten.”

  Elizabeth knelt before her sister to capture Lydia’s hands.

  “Even if Mr. Wickham loves you, another will be his wife. Have you not considered why Mr. Wickham avoids the calling of banns or a journey to Greta Green? It is because another woman carries his child, Lydia. The woman’s brother means for Mr. Wickham to marry her.”

  Tears misted her sister’s eyes.

  “You speak an untruth,” Lydia half pleaded. “You cannot know this.”

  “I can,” Elizabeth insisted.

  Although Mr. Darcy did not share the identity of the woman, it was obvious the woman’s brother was the one who attacked Mr. Darcy before our wedding day.

  “The reason Mr. Darcy did not appear at the Meryton church was because this woman’s brother mistook Mr. Darcy for Mr. Wickham. The man’s hirelings attacked my intended and left him for dead. The brother means to force Mr. Wickham to make an honest woman of his sister.’

  Silent sobs shook Lydia’s shoulders.

  “But Wickham loves me,” she said through trembling lips.

  Elizabeth doubted that possibility, but she said, “Who would not love you, for you are all that is sunshine.”

  Elizabeth wrapped her arms about her sister to rock Lydia into soothing acceptance.

  “Before this situation becomes more problematic, dearest one, I must know one thing: Did you permit Mr. Wickham intimacies?”

  Lydia shook her head violently in the negative.

  “Not at all. When George consumed too much ale, he pressed me, but I hid from him under the bed until the drink lulled him to sleep,” Lydia admitted. “Mama would not approve of my succumbing to the man before we spoke our vows.”

  Elizabeth could not help but release the breath of anxiousness she held. Thank Goodness her sister practiced a bit of sense, and thank Goodness Mrs. Bennet taught Lydia a bit of propriety.

  “I am proud of you,” Elizabeth whispered in Lydia’s ear. “Permit Mary to assist you in dressing. You will return to Darcy House with your sisters, and between us, we will discover a spectacular future for you.”

  * * *

  “Why are you here, Darcy?” Wickham groaned as he buried his face in his hands. “If I lost everything else, why can I not lose you?”

  Darcy sat across from his former friend.

  “Because you continue to make me part of your business by using the Darcy name in your dealings.”

  Darcy sighed heavily: How often had he “saved” Wickham from ruin? More times than Darcy cared to consider.

  “What did you hope to accomplish by bringing Miss Lydia to London?”

  Wickham responded only with a shrug of shoulders.

  Darcy meant to wait Wickham out, but Fitzwilliam, was not so patient. The colonel jerked Wickham backwards.

  “Sit straight and answer your betters,” Fitzwilliam growled.

  Darcy raised his hand to stay his cousin’s actions.

  “I understand if you were desperate,” Darcy said in encouragement, “but why ruin Miss Lydia?”

  Darcy prayed Wickham did not use Elizabeth’s sister as a means to inflict more punishment on Darcy.

  Wickham closed his eyes in what appeared to be exhaustion.

  “I thought when I reached London, I could borrow enough to book passage to America, but Sloane was always one step ahead of me.”

  “Did you plan to take Miss Lydia with you?” Darcy pressed.

  Wickham shook off the idea.

  “Lydia had a few coins, enough for the hackney and this room, but I do not mean to spend a lifetime saddled to the chit.”

  Darcy glanced up to note Elizabeth’s return to the room. A nearly imperceptible shake of her head indicated Wickham acted with the resemblance of honor. Darcy nodded his understanding.

  “Then the colonel and I will leave you to your manipulations. Miss Lydia will come with me.”

  Unfortunately, before Darcy stood to gather Elizabeth to his side, a figure filled the still open door, and Darcy’s plans for a quick retreat changed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Who are you? And what business have you within?” Fitzwilliam demanded of the stranger.

  Darcy’s cousin held a gun pointed at the man.

  Making certain Elizabeth remained from harm’s way, Darcy announced, “Although our acquaintance was of short duration, I believe, Colonel, this is Mr. Sloane.”

  Wickham groaned his displeasure and closed his eyes again to block out the reality.

  Darcy did not possess enough information on Sloane to know whether the man was dangerous or not, but he meant to protect Elizabeth at all cost, and so he shifted his weight to block Sloane from noting where she stood along the wall.

  “How came you by this place?” Darcy demanded of the man.

  Sloane’s shoulders indicated the man was uncomfortable.

  “Invention is a key component of desperation. I suspect Mr. Wickham could teach us both something of desperation, Mr. Darcy.”

  Sloane gestured with an open palm.

  “Once I possessed a clearer head, I sent my men to return you to London, but you managed an escape. I know enough of your type to realize you would soon seek out Wickham. If the scoundrel used your family name, a previous connection existed between you. It was only a matter of time before you tracked down my soon-to-be brother in marriage.”

  Darcy held no use for Wickham in his life, but he was sore to permit Sloane to berate the fellow.

  “As I
arrived prior to you, it would seem I have first claim on Mr. Wickham’s future,” Darcy said with a hint of a warning in his tone.

  Sloane turned to take note of Elizabeth.

  “Did the dastard ruin another?” Sloane said with a snarl of disapproval.

  “If Mr. Wickham dared to touch my betrothed,” Darcy said boldly, “there would not be enough of him left to make a meat pie.”

  Darcy knew the instant Elizabeth determined Mr. Sloane’s identity as the man who disrupted her wedding day. Love her heart! His lady possessed a quick mind, but she was no actress. Her emotions were on display for the world to see, and Darcy knew from experience that her temper boiled over. Mr. Sloane was in for a set down.

  “Your betrothed?” Sloane’s eyebrow rose in curiosity.

  “Yes,” Darcy hissed, adding fuel to Elizabeth’s ire. “The woman for whom I purchased a ring at Rundell, Bridge, and Rundell upon the day your hirelings kidnapped me.”

  “Rundell, Bridge, and Rundell,” Elizabeth whispered on a tearful gasp. “You were to have a ring made special for me?”

  Darcy nodded his agreement.

  “If I knew…” Sloane began, but the man did not anticipate the assault: not from Darcy, but from Elizabeth.

  “How dare you? You call Mr. Wickham a cad!”

  She stormed forward to slap Sloane’s cheek before pounding upon his chest with her fists.

  “Because of you I stood before a congregation to be rebuked as undesirable!”

  Elizabeth punctuated each of her accusations with a punch or a jab.

  “I never saw my wedding ring! A ring from His Majesty’s royal jewelers! Nor did I enjoy the wedding breakfast! My wedding dress lies in rags! You ruined it all!”

  Sloane ducked his head, and Darcy laughed as he moved in close to capture Elizabeth about the waist to drag her from striking distance of the man. As unladylike as were her actions, Darcy suspected it did Elizabeth well to strike out at something. Keeping her emotions under cap was not to her benefit: Elizabeth Bennet was too passionate for meekness.

  “Do you possess no control of your intended?” Sloane grumbled.

  Darcy turned Elizabeth into his embrace. Another woman would be in tears, but his future wife still fumed over the injustices she suffered. He was in for a life of ardor.