Courting Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

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Courting Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 19

by Renata McMann

Darcy wasn’t sure he wanted a full audience, but he didn’t protest. Returning his cue stick to the rack, he led the way to the library. When they arrived, Henry hung back, lounging in the doorway. Darcy wondered if Henry was ensuring none of the servants would listen in, or that Wickham couldn’t make a run for it.

  As they crossed the library toward him, Wickham grimaced, looking around at the four of them. True to what the butler had intimated, Wickham’s clothing was rumpled and he appeared not to have shaved. His usual attitude of insolent confidence was missing, as well. If Darcy had to guess at what was in Wickham’s face, he would say fear.

  His mouth pressed into a thin line, Wickham acknowledged them with a nod. “I take it this is as private a meeting as I’m to be allotted?”

  “It is,” Henry said from the doorway.

  Shrugging, Wickham pulled a folded piece of paper from his coat. “I’m putting my cards on the table, gentlemen. I wish I could withhold something, but I can’t. Read this.”

  Darcy took the proffered note, recognizing Lady Catherine’s stationery. A quick glance showed no signature, but he recognized his aunt’s handwriting. “It’s in Aunt Catherine’s writing, and on her stationary, though it isn’t signed.”

  Henry cast a glance up and down the hall. “Read it.”

  Richard was already doing so, over Darcy’s shoulder. Darcy read aloud for the benefit of Henry and Bingley. “Dear Mr. Wickham. It has come to my attention that my nephew, Mr. Darcy, has been spending time with Elizabeth Bennet. She is beneath him in every way; breeding, manners, wealth and appearance. Nevertheless, I am concerned she will use her arts and allurements to lead him away from my daughter.”

  “She’ll never let it rest, will she?” Richard muttered.

  Darcy read on. “If you use your charm or any other means to keep Elizabeth Bennet away from my nephew, I will be grateful. If you marry her, I will give you three thousand pounds. If you do something else that separates them, whatever it is, I will give you one thousand pounds.”

  Henry let out a low whistle. Bingley’s expression was shocked.

  “As you undoubtedly know, I am not to be trifled with,” Darcy continued. “If you refuse to do as I ask, I will be very angry with you and you will feel the full force of my wrath. I know your regiment is scheduled to leave Hertfordshire soon. That is no excuse for avoiding doing my bidding. I will find you, for your reward or just due, wherever you go. You know who I am and what I can do.”

  Darcy resisted the urge to crumple the note and toss it on the fire. Silence reigned in the library as he exchanged grim looks with his cousins. This time, Lady Catherine had gone too far.

  “How was this delivered?” Richard asked.

  “It came in a coach bearing Lady Catherine’s crest. If I recall right, I remember the driver as working for her from, oh, about ten years ago, but I can’t be sure, and there was a man with him, in her livery, who I didn’t know. I doubt she generally loans her vehicle to servants for long country drives, so they undoubtedly came here at her request.”

  “Did anyone else see this coach?” Richard was as grim as Darcy had ever seen him.

  Wickham shook his head. “They approached me when I was alone. No one else saw it delivered.”

  “Ensuring you knew who sent it without giving you any means to confirm it,” Richard said.

  “You can’t think she means . . .” Bingley’s voice trailed off. “That is to say, it sounds like a very grim request.”

  “Aunt Catherine has always been petty and vindictive, but now she’s crossed the line,” Henry said, his tone harsh.

  “I don’t have an out.” Wickham said. “What is she asking me to do, murder Miss Elizabeth? I don’t think Lady Catherine would have me harmed, but she’s quite likely able to pressure someone high up in the militia to let me go. They don’t pay well, but I’m making a living. I don’t have many other options.”

  Darcy nodded, still unable to set aside enough anger to speak. Wickham spoke the truth about himself. He didn’t have any skills to recommend him. He lacked the fiber to apply himself to anything remotely arduous. At least he wasn’t so low as to carry out Lady Catherine’s request.

  “I neither know nor care if you are going to marry Miss Elizabeth, Darcy, but she wouldn’t marry me under any circumstance, ever. I may have done a few things in my life that are unethical, but anything I could do to intervene in this case would be a hanging offense.”

  “So you came to me.” Darcy was aware his tone was grating, but it was difficult to speak past the fury burning in his chest.

  Wickham shrugged. “Where else would I go? Look, if you aren’t planning to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet, please tell your aunt so we can put this behind us. Better yet, let me tell her and collect my thousand pounds. If you are going to marry the girl, well, if you are, I would like . . .” Wickham’s voice trailed off.

  “You would like protection from her,” Henry supplied.

  “You know we have no control over her,” Richard said.

  “You’re refusing to help me?” Wickham said. It was almost a statement rather than a question.

  “Yes,” Richard said as Darcy simultaneously said, “No.”

  The others looked at Darcy in surprise. Wickham’s expression became hopeful.

  “Frankly, I want you out of England,” Darcy said, hoping the stern look he leveled on Wickham would warn him not to ask why. Darcy saw no need for Henry and Bingley to know Georgiana’s secret.

  Greed replaced the fear in Wickham’s eyes. “I’m happy to go to Ireland, but paying my passage won’t be enough.”

  “I’ll pay more than your passage, but you’re going to Canada,” Darcy said. “Ireland is too close.”

  “From what I hear, Canada is practically a block of ice. I want passage to the United States, and two thousand pounds.”

  Henry let out a bark of laughter.

  “We’re at war with the United States,” Richard protested.

  “Darcy will make it work.” Wickham shrugged again, appearing at ease for the first time since they’d entered the library. “At least, he will if he wants me to go farther away than Ireland.”

  “If they profit from it, I’m sure there are bankers who will accommodate me in spite of the war,” Darcy said. He eyed Wickham, knowing the offer had to be generous. Wickham was well acquainted with how much Darcy was worth. “I’ll pay your passage to Canada. You can make arrangements to go to the United States. I’ll give you a hundred pounds to do that and to get you started. You will go to a large bank. They will arrange the details of your annuity with my bank in England.”

  There ensued a brief argument about amounts, but Darcy argued mostly for show, knowing Wickham would ask for more if he realized he could get it. In the end, the annuity they agreed upon would give Wickham a life, but he would be forced to find some form of employment if he wished to keep himself like a gentleman. Darcy thought the sum was well worth it to get Wickham out of the country. He proffered his hand, meaning the gesture both as concluding their negotiation and as good bye.

  Wickham shook it. He then bowed to the room at large, a jaunty grin on his face. “Gentlemen, my lord. It’s been a pleasure.” He strolled past Henry and out of the library.

  “Good riddance,” Richard muttered.

  Henry stayed where he was, looking in the direction of Wickham’s fading footfalls. Once they were out of hearing, he closed the door and crossed to where Darcy, Richard and Bingley still stood. Gesturing for them to join him, he took a seat in the far corner. Darcy dropped his aunt’s note on the low table they sat around.

  “Well, that’s half of our problem,” Henry said.

  Richard nodded. “Lady Catherine has obviously become convinced her rank allows her to do anything. She won’t give up.”

  “Why don’t you just make it plain you aren’t going to marry Miss de Bourgh?” Bingley asked. “Or is that still a possibility?”

  “I thought I made it plain,” Darcy said.

  “
Make it more plain.”

  Darcy looked at Richard, wondering how much they should reveal.

  Richard grimaced. “The details aren’t precisely mine to tell, but Darcy did make it quite clear he has no intention of marrying Anne. Frankly, she was just as clear on her lack of enthusiasm for the match. All that did was elicit an ultimatum from Aunt Catherine.” He cast a quick glance at Darcy, who nodded for him to continue. “Darcy proposed to Miss Elizabeth, giving her two months to make up her mind. We’d hoped that courtship would put Aunt Catherine off long enough for Anne to gain control of Rosings, which she will on her birthday. Anne then plans to use the threat of eviction to keep Aunt Catherine in line. Miss Elizabeth is fully acquainted with the plan.”

  Henry raised his eyebrows. “And here I’ve been keeping my distance from that delectable creature, thinking your courtship was sincere.”

  “It is,” Darcy said. “The only reason I agreed to the courtship scheme was because I intended to court Miss Elizabeth in truth, not just as a subterfuge.”

  “So you really do want to marry Miss Elizabeth?” Bingley asked, his tone touched with surprise. He blinked several times. “Does she know that?”

  “I don’t know, and it gets worse.” Darcy grimaced. “When we were all still in Kent, Lady Catherine abducted Miss Elizabeth. She had two of her footmen pick her up and force her into a carriage, where she waited. She then drove Miss Elizabeth to an inn about nine miles from Rosings and arranged for her passage on the stage to London. Instead, Miss Elizabeth walked back.”

  Bingley was staring at Darcy in shock once more. “Your aunt kidnapped Miss Elizabeth rather than permit you to court her? Is she mad?”

  “I don’t know how crazy Lady Catherine has become, but I think I’ll have to make it my business to find out soon,” Henry said in the same harsh tone he’d used earlier. He frowned at Darcy and Richard. “As for the two of you, you must realize the threat of eviction, or even casting her out, won’t stop Aunt Catherine. You have put Miss Elizabeth in a dangerous situation. A woman alone on the stage to London could easily be harmed. If Wickham was a violent man instead of simply a dishonest one, Miss Elizabeth’s body might have been found in a ditch long ere now. The next person Lady Catherine approaches might strike without warning. You’ve been lucky up to now, but a man can’t live on luck.”

  “There’s no way to know she hasn’t already approached someone else.” Richard’s expression was grim. “Or ten people, for that matter. She sent her coachman and a footman. They may have carried more letters than one.”

  Darcy stared at him, horrified by the thought. “She wouldn’t know anyone else here.”

  “Are you sure? Would that even stop her? Her coachman could hire someone she doesn’t know,” Richard said. “We have to do something.”

  “I realize that,” Darcy growled. “If we hadn’t made the courtship so public, I could tell Aunt Catherine it’s off and stay away for a time.” He knew staying away wouldn’t be easy, but it would certainly be preferable to Elizabeth being hurt. “As things stand, calling it off would impinge my honor and, worse, humiliate Elizabeth.”

  “You could ask her to decline you,” Henry said.

  “Or marry you now,” Bingley added.

  “Were I sure I could persuade her, I would marry Elizabeth now.” Darcy ignored the suggestion Elizabeth should refuse him again, though he resolved he would ask her to if he thought it was necessary to keep her safe. “Even Aunt Catherine would have to see she can’t make me marry Anne once I am wed.”

  Henry and Richard both shook their heads.

  “Won’t work,” Henry said.

  “If she’s willing to do Miss Elizabeth harm to stop a courtship, why should she draw the line at removing her once you’re wed?”

  Darcy frowned at them. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Lady Catherine would have Elizabeth killed, even after the abduction she’d staged and the letter. It was all such madness. Mad or no, though, he would prevent it. So long as he was breathing, no harm would come to Elizabeth.

  “Obviously, the only real solution is for Miss de Bourgh to marry,” Bingley said.

  Darcy turned to look at him.

  “It’s an easy thing for a gentleman to remarry, but once Miss de Bourgh is wed and the union consummated . . .” He coughed, looking embarrassed. “Not, of course, that widows can’t remarry, but marriage is a different sort of thing for a woman than a man, and Lady Catharine surely sees that. Even if she doesn’t, it’s a much greater crime to have a gentleman of means murdered than a country girl residing on the edge of polite society, begging your pardon, Darcy. I doubt even Lady Catherine would dare attempt to remove Miss de Bourgh’s husband if he’s a gentleman.”

  Silence filled the library. Darcy contemplated Bingley’s words, realizing he was correct. From their faces, Henry and Richard were doing the same.

  “So, we find Anne a gentleman,” Henry said, glancing at Richard.

  Richard’s eyes widened in surprise. “Not me.”

  “Well, I won’t do it,” Henry said. “When I marry, it will be to someone who enjoys the kind of life I’m living. I don’t need Rosings or more money. Anne is a pleasant woman, but there’s no reason I should shackle myself to her to free up Darcy.”

  Darcy raised an eyebrow. This was the first time he’d ever heard Harry suggest he might marry someday. Darcy generally thought of him as the young man who never grew up.

  Bingley cleared his throat. “A possible solution is that I marry her, assuming she would have me. She’s wealthier than I have a right to expect, but I would try to be a good husband to her.”

  Silence descended again as Darcy and his cousins turned to study Bingley. Richard looked thoughtful. Henry seemed vaguely amused, much of his good humor finally restored.

  Darcy found himself nodding. Bingley would be a good husband to someone, so why not Anne? True, Darcy wouldn’t have given Bingley permission to court Georgiana, not after his friend’s revelations about himself, but Anne was different. Out from under her mother’s thumb, she was stronger. Definitely strong enough to deal with Bingley. After all, she’d put him in his place when he’d lamented Miss Bennet’s lack of misery upon seeing him again. “She may not want you.”

  “I can ask.” Bingley turned to Henry.

  “Be my guest,” Henry said, much as he’d done in jest in the billiards room.

  Richard nodded.

  “Right, then.” Bingley stood. “No time like the present, is there? Especially not if your aunt is to be speedily put off.” He marched from the room.

  They all watched him go, then Henry turned to Richard. “And what about your situation, Richard?”

  “My situation?”

  “Are you going to offer for Miss Bennet? You’re clearly in love with her.”

  “I’ve thought about it.” Richard’s expression was glum. “I don’t feel I can. You know how little I have beyond my pay. She deserves more. She’s used to more.”

  “Perhaps,” Darcy said. Remembering how he’d erroneously assumed Elizabeth’s answer the first time he proposed to her, he added, “But she deserves the right to decide for herself. Explain the situation to her. There’s no point in going through life wondering whether she would have agreed to marry you.”

  Henry leaned forward in his chair, frowning. “That’s excellent advice, and all well and good, but the more I think on it, the more I feel we haven’t resolved the original issue.”

  Darcy turned to his cousin questioningly.

  “Even assuming Anne accepts your friend Bingley’s offer, Miss Elizabeth will be in danger until Aunt Catherine recognizes the marriage. If she has already recruited others, Miss Elizabeth may be in danger even after that. There may be no way to retract offers already made.”

  All of the tension Darcy had shed in the past few moments returned. “You’re right. Elizabeth isn’t safe. I’ll have to speak with her father.” Though what he would say to Mr. Bennet, Darcy didn’t know.

&
nbsp; Chapter Nineteen

  Darcy wished they didn’t have a party to attend that evening, or that they’d spent less time conversing in the library. As it was, he had no opportunity to ride to Longbourn before the festivities, or even to speak privately with Bingley to ascertain if he’d indeed asked for Anne’s hand. Darcy found having so much uncertainty in his life was trying to his patience. At least, he reasoned, he’d be able to keep watch over Elizabeth while they were together. He also doubted she was in danger inside her home. All he needed to do was contrive for her to be either in Longbourn or with him at all times.

  The carriage he and Richard shared with the Hursts was quiet on the journey over. Darcy kept most of his attention out the window, looking for anything suspicious. He didn’t believe he’d see anything, but it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye out. As they took their place in the long line of vehicles meandering up their host’s drive, he idly marveled at the level of collusion in the community. It was obvious the locals were conspiring not to have conflicting events, even though someone held a gathering nearly every night.

  His party reached the front and disembarked. As they made their way inside, Darcy was unsurprised to hear music. Though not billed as such, each gathering inevitably included a dance. He smiled slightly, realizing he didn’t feel his once typical dread for the idea. By following Elizabeth’s advice and dancing with more different ladies, he’d become better practiced at engaging them. He hadn’t shed his taciturn nature, for to do so would be dishonest, but they seemed to accept that he seldom spoke. Now, when he asked a woman he’d danced with at a different event to dance again, he was met with genuine smiles. He was surprised how little effort it took to please.

  Seeing Elizabeth already had a partner for the set about to begin, Darcy followed his now customary pattern, asking the first wallflower he saw to join him. It took him only a few moments to realize how difficult it was going to be to safeguard Elizabeth while he partnered anyone but her. Even though logic said she wasn’t at risk in the middle of a party, his heart took up a frantic beat each time the steps drew her from view. Halfway through the set, he was strongly considering bowing out, frantically searching his mind for a plausible excuse.

 

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