by Head, Gail
It was an ungodly hour for him, but necessary if he was to succeed. Moving swiftly through Meryton's deserted streets, he shook off the last vestiges of sleep; but he could not shake off the growing desperation brought on by Lady Catherine's recent communication. “Your failure to improve the state of my nephew's health as promised is a great disappointment. I expected more to be done by now. I shall not recompense a physician who cannot cure. Should you desire my continued patronage, you will give proof that my nephew is rid of this malady once and for all, with no chance of it ever returning.”
Wickham smiled to himself. Darcy was about to be cured of his “malady.” There was one last detail to finalize and his plan would be set. Elizabeth Bennet had slipped through his fingers last evening; but she would not do so again. Failure at this point was not an option. Wickham accelerated his pace, eager to secure his future. He would need to reach Pettigrew's Meadow before Elizabeth if he was to gain the advantage.
Approaching the meadow, Wickham slowed his pace and began scanning the wide glen for his quarry. Lydia had been more than cooperative in providing information regarding her sister's habits. He did not know the exact location, but he knew this meadow was her destination of choice. His gaze swept the wide expanse several times without finding any sign of her, but he was not giving up so easily. Selecting a spot that would conceal his presence while still giving a clear view of the entire meadow, he settled in the shade of a large split birch and waited.
* * * *
Feeling secure from the world, Elizabeth lay on a soft bed of grass, absently picking at the wildflowers in her hand. The ominous feeling that had been her companion since daybreak pressed a crease in her brow. She was stunned at Mr. Wickham's intimidating conduct exhibited the night before. Mr. Darcy's account had warned her of Wickham's true nature; but to experience it first hand was an unsettling experience. She shuddered involuntarily at the memory of his menacing nearness and her frown deepened in contemplation.
Wickham was a man of some intellect, and also one who needed to make his own way in the world. Were his intentions toward Lydia honorable? He must know there would be no fortune in marrying her. Surely he would not trifle with Lydia knowing she is not without friends; yet. . . she could not bear to consider the possibility his words had implied.
At least there was one bright spot in all this. Her face softened at the thought of Jane and Mr. Bingley. In spite of all the misery they had suffered, she was very hopeful they would soon find the happiness they deserved.
Sighing wistfully, she laid back with closed eyes, soaking in the warmth of the morning sun and wishing for the carefree days of her childhood. The past twelve-month had turned her life into a hopelessly complicated muddle. If only she had not overheard Mr. Darcy's careless remark to Mr. Bingley at the assembly, or had she been less swayed by Mr. Wickham's charms and good looks, or perhaps been more willing to acknowledge Mr. Darcy's attempts at civility when he danced with her at the Netherfield ball. There was any number of seemingly insignificant instances where the slightest change would have made the present so very different. What a fool she had been!
Re-examining the impromptu bouquet she had gathered on her walk, she inhaled deeply, allowing the fragrant blooms to dispel the melancholy that had crept into her thoughts. She could not do anything about the past; but she could do something about the present. She could prevent Mr. Wickham from destroying Lydia's reputation and that of the entire family.
Rising slowly, Elizabeth brushed at her skirt, considering what to say to her father. The resolve to speak to him as soon as she returned was edged with doubt. Through the years, her admiration for him had been moderated by his inclination to avoid anything troublesome. The unwillingness to stand by his convictions in the face of opposition was a weakness Elizabeth tried hard to overlook; a weakness she was certain would now be tested by her mother's blind eye to the faults of a man in a red coat.
Squaring her shoulders, she drew in a deep, fortifying breath from the solitude of her much-loved sanctuary, then turned to make her way back home.
Elizabeth moved slowly toward the split birch that marked the edge of the meadow, too deep in thought to be aware of the eyes that followed her progress. Coming out from the thick underbrush into the meadow, she was startled to see the very subject of her thoughts materialize in front of her.
“Mr. Wickham!” she cried, quickly covering her alarm with a lift of her chin.
“Miss Bennet, what a pleasant surprise!”
“A surprise indeed; but to say it is pleasant is a matter of opinion,” she replied coolly and stepped back, remembering the unpleasant experience of the night before.
“I do consider it fortunate we should meet.”
“And I consider it peculiar that we should meet at all at such an early hour.”
Wickham flashed one of his most charming smiles. “Very well, then, I confess I have purposely sought you out. I should like to finish the conversation we started last evening.”
“And I do not. You, sir, have wasted your time in coming all this way. I have nothing more to say to you, and I pray you importune me no further.”
Without waiting for a response, Elizabeth spun away and started across the meadow.
“It is unfortunate our little meeting on the terrace was interrupted before I had the opportunity to fully explain myself. I have a proposal to offer,” Wickham called after her.
His astonishing words stopped her in her tracks and she turned back to him, staring in disbelief. “A proposal? Surely you do not mean marriage?”
“No, I am not speaking of marriage. Quite the opposite, in fact. I offer you freedom from that obligation which, given your recent experience, you seem to dislike very much.”
Elizabeth's temper flashed. “It is fortunate you do not speak of marriage, sir, for I fail to see where my interest in matrimony should concern you; especially in light of your obvious partiality for my sister.”
“Your sister? Oh, you mean Miss Lydia? She has nothing to do with this; at least not at present. My proposal refers to an opportunity for independence. Specifically, I offer you a most advantageous position with an acquaintance of mine. He is a respectable gentleman of good family residing in the north country. He has the care of a young ward who is preparing for her bow and he seeks young lady of your age and station as companion to her. It is an excellent opportunity. It would free you from any difficulties with your mother should you wish to refuse any additional offers of marriage in future.”
The whole neighborhood knew of her rejecting Mr. Collins; but she could not help wonder if by some strange occurrence Mr. Wickham knew of Mr. Darcy's offer. If he did, it made his appalling proposal all the more offensive. Barely able to control her mounting indignation, she faced him.
“How dare you, sir! You would stand in my father's place? My wedded status, or lack of it, is none of your concern. Above that, I am a gentleman's daughter, and for you to suggest that I accept employment is a contemptible interference!”
Wickham only smiled. “I am sorry you feel that way. I thought perhaps a young lady of independent spirit would welcome an opportunity to have independent means.”
“You are greatly mistaken, Mr. Wickham. I have no desire to be independent in such a way. Furthermore, your behavior gives me liberty to relate my true feelings in this matter. I do not like you. From the moment I was informed of your true character, I realized you have taken every advantage of our hospitality and used us all very ill. The manner in which you forced yourself upon me last night and again this morning has given proof to the ungentleman-like sketch of your character. I have nothing further to say. Good day, sir!”
Wickham's smile flattened into an inflexible line as he moved swiftly, reaching out and capturing her wrist in a crushing grip.
“I pray you stay one moment.” The tenor of his words betrayed his impatience. “I had hoped to appeal to your sense of independence; but I see you require additional persuasion to fully comprehend the adva
ntages of my offer.”
Wickham's brutal intimidation gave rise to Elizabeth's courage. His painful grasp warned her that any display of weakness could prove disastrous.
“You will release me, sir! There is nothing you could possibly say that would tempt me to accept such an offer!”
“Ah, that is where you are greatly mistaken,” he replied serenely. “You will recall our conversation last evening and how much I have enjoyed your sister Lydia's company. Have you not wondered why?”
His leering words halted Elizabeth's attempts to free herself, an ominous foreboding gripping her heart. Wickham released his hold and she stood motionless, waiting for him to continue.
“I observe you are a most devoted sister. I take it that you would not wish any disgrace to come to Miss Lydia?”
“Do not play games with me, sir. What is your meaning?”
“My meaning is this,” he responded lightly, “Miss Lydia thinks herself in love with me. It must be the uniform. Do you think? She does love a man in a red coat, you know. More importantly, she has professed that love quite eloquently.”
“You cannot be serious if you think to ruin my sister's reputation! You cannot succeed. The word of our family against yours would certainly prevail!”
“It would not be my word at all, but your sister's own words that will ruin her.” Smiling widely, he pulled a thick packet of letters from his coat and held them up for Elizabeth to see. “She has been very generous - and might I add explicit - in her affection for me. Here, you may examine one for yourself.”
Elizabeth took the letter he offered and immediately recognized Lydia's cramped hand. Reading the first few lines, she blushed furiously at the words and knew he spoke the truth. Her sister's obviously unbridled passion and boldness in expressing it would be her own ruin. This was bad – very bad – for Lydia, for Jane's hopes with Mr. Bingley, for their entire family. She raised her eyes to Mr. Wickham.
“Are you two engaged, sir?”
“Oh, no! Nothing of the kind!” he laughed scornfully.
Elizabeth drew a shaky breath. “Have you…has my sister been compromised?”
Wickham paused, enjoying the moment as he watched Elizabeth struggle with the reality of her sister's reckless behavior.
“Not yet; although I must say she is very persuasive.”
Wickham's amusement and lack of concern for Lydia's reputation or that of her family was obvious. The feeling of dread that had shadowed her since their conversation on the terrace now threatened to engulf her. What had Lydia done? Stupid, stupid girl!
“But, do not distress yourself so, madam. I offer hope for a brighter future. You see, I could be persuaded to part with the letters and discourage Miss Lydia's affection. It would only require your cooperation in the matter of my friend's ward.”
“I will not be blackmailed!” she replied coldly, pushing down her rising panic.
“Blackmail is such an ugly word. Let us call it a friendly persuasion. Do you not think it unfortunate that your sister would expose herself to ridicule, especially now that a certain gentleman has returned to the neighborhood? If these letters were to be made public, your whole family would most assuredly partake of Lydia's shame. Very unfortunate, indeed.”
“There is more here than you are telling, sir. I do not know what your purpose is, but I know what you are capable of, and you are sadly mistaken if you think for a moment that holding my sister's unfortunate behavior hostage will force my participation in whatever scheme you are constructing. It will not take long for you to be exposed for the rake that you are, and you will be called upon to answer for this despicable behavior!”
“And what would you do? Make known the letters? Expose your sisters – all of them – to public ridicule and disgrace? I won't marry her. With the estate entailed, do you think your father would be so foolish as to challenge me? Do not be so hasty in refusing my offer. You have until tomorrow evening to decide. If you do not choose to accept, I shall be forced to make public your sister's delicious letters. My fellow officers would rather enjoy the entertainment. Remember, tomorrow evening. I shall wait for your answer in the small garden on the east side of your grounds.”
With a smirk and a deep bow, Wickham turned and walked away, leaving Elizabeth staring after him. As he passed from view, she took several hard breaths to contain the crushing despair. This was much worse than she could have ever imagined. Think, Lizzy, think! There has to be another way!
Wickham could not be allowed to publish the letters. It would certainly dash Jane's newfound hopes with Mr. Bingley. In a love so new as theirs, all of Jane's goodness would not be sufficient to blot out the scandal of Lydia's misdeeds. It would take more time for a greater understanding to form.
Yet, she could not agree to employment either. Aside from the distasteful notion of subjecting herself to the will of an employer, Elizabeth could not help but think of what Wickham attempted with Mr. Darcy's sister. It was a very great possibility that Wickham's proposal involved some mercenary scheme regarding this young ward and she could not be any part of it.
If she were to disclose Wickham's deeds, it would force actions that could only end in misery. At best, honor would demand he marry Lydia, but he had already declared he would not. Elizabeth closed her eyes against the worst. If Wickham refused to marry Lydia, Mr. Bennet would be compelled to demand the satisfaction of a duel. Her heart ached at the very thought. She knew her father's age and sedentary lifestyle could never hope to triumph over the youth and training of a military man such as Wickham. With the agonizing loss of her father would also come the loss of life as they knew it. With Longbourn entailed, all her mother's fears of destitution would be realized. No, it was not to be attempted.
Elizabeth paced in a circle, searching desperately for a means of solving her dilemma. What was she to do? Her father had always been her anchor in stormy seas such as this, but she could not go to him with Lydia's disgraceful letter…or could she?
A plan of her own now beginning to form in her head, Elizabeth set out for Longbourn with a determined stride.
Chapter 5
Touching the two letters hidden in the folds of her dress, Elizabeth offered a fervent prayer for success and then rapped lightly on the door to her father's library. At his invitation, she quickly turned the knob and entered. Looking at the affectionate expression with which he greeted her, her heart contracted painfully at the thought that it was something she would not see again for some time; but there was no turning back. Her whole family would feel the devastating effects if she failed now.
“Lizzy, my dear! What do you think? We have all survived the madness of last night's dinner party and it looks as if your sister is in a fair way of recapturing her young man.”
“Yes, it seems very likely; but, if I may, sir, I have another matter I wish to speak of.”
“Of course, my dear. What is it? You look a little troubled.”
“I am, very much.” Elizabeth's resolve waivered for an instant and then rallied in an ardent rush. “I am sorry to be so direct, Father, but you cannot be unaware of Lydia's reckless behavior.”
“I will admit she is very silly, but no more than most girls her age; although I will say you and Jane were an exception,” he smiled tenderly.
“You must see that if you do not take the trouble to check her wild behavior, it will end in shame for the whole family. Last night's exhibition at Lucas Lodge is proof enough. Did you not see what a determined flirt she made of herself with all the officers?” Elizabeth was careful not to single out Wickham.
“Come now, Lizzy. She does no real harm. I am convinced she will not be satisfied until she has made herself ridiculous; and it would be better for her to do so now, when her age allows for some indulgence. Take heart, my dear; her follies will fade and be forgotten soon enough.”
“I am sorry, sir, but there are some things that will not fade, and I must tell you she has already done more damage than can be forgot.” Elizabeth stopped,
her courage wavering once again at the pain she was about to inflict. Taking a deep breath, she began. “I have just received a most disturbing letter. It was written in Lydia's own hand and expresses her affection for a gentleman in such unspeakable terms that, if made public, would bring disgrace and ruin to us all.”
Drawing the first letter out, she placed it on the desk in front of her father, being careful to keep the second one in its place. It would come later.
Mr. Bennet's amused smile faded into a curious frown as he took up the letter. Anxiously she watched as each line passing beneath his eyes engendered an even greater degree of passionate abhorrence until he finally threw the letter onto the desk in disgust.
“This is outrageous! That a daughter of mine would write such a letter is unbelievable! It is a revolting piece of nonsense and I should like to meet the man who has encouraged this!” he cried, his face flushing to an alarming shade of crimson as he leaned back in his chair. Elizabeth started at his high color and trembling hands.
“Father, you look very ill! Please calm yourself!” she exclaimed and reached out for the decanter sitting near his desk. “Let me get you a glass of wine and we can discuss this with some degree of reason.”
“Reason? There is no reason in someone taking advantage of an ignorant young girl!” His indignation brought him to his feet with such violence that he was obliged to steady himself before peering intently over the desk. “What do you know of this, Lizzy?”
“No more than you,” she lied smoothly. “And, as you can see, the name has been torn off, leaving us no clue as to who this man is.”
“He shall not be nameless for long. I will speak to Lydia and get to the bottom of this immediately! He will be found out and made to marry her or give me satisfaction.”
“No, Father. That is not sound! You must know you cannot fight him. It is strictly prohibited; and even if you managed to arrange it and prevail, you would only be trading one scandal for another. Worse than that, if you should not prevail…oh, Father, I could not bear to lose you! The entail of Longbourn would be nothing to losing you!”