by P. O. Dixon
Darcy sat there in utter and complete disbelief. The prospect that he may have satisfied his baser needs with his cousin – even as an unwilling participant and even in a drug-induced haze – was unfathomable. It could not be true. He would not believe it unless and until confirming evidence presented itself, and then he would know how to act.
When they were alone, he stood and walked to the window. “How is this to be endured?”
His cousin’s response fell silent to his ears. At length, he brushed his hands over his face, wishing to block out whatever his cousin was saying. Only one thought consumed him.
He muttered aloud, “What must Elizabeth think when she hears of any of this?”
Lady Victoria’s mouth gaped. “Elizabeth—Elizabeth! Do you know how tired I am of hearing your every sentence begin and end with that horrid woman’s name?” She placed her hands about her waist. “How is this to be endured, you ask? Well, you might try closing your eyes when we are together as man and wife and pretend that I am Elizabeth. It seems to have worked for you before!”
With that, Lady Victoria turned and raced from the room.
~*~
Where Elizabeth had once found Mr. Wickham to be an amiable companion, now knowing what she knew about his true character, Wickham’s company only served to annoy rather than please her. How is such a man to be trusted?
Having no reason to doubt the veracity of Mr. Darcy’s charge against George Wickham, Elizabeth regarded him as calculating and duplicitous. She and Wickham were standing among a crowd when, one by one, the others took their leave, and then only the two of them remained.
“I understand my old friend Darcy finally saw fit to take his leave of Hertfordshire.”
“Indeed, family affairs dictated his return to Derbyshire.”
“I doubt his being called away met with any great disappointment. The Darcy I know could hardly be very contented in such a place as Hertfordshire. I suppose your being here must have been the inducement for his staying as long as he did. I know how much you like him.”
“I have never made it a secret how much I admire Mr. Darcy. With his having confided in me some rather disconcerting information about his young sister, I must say my admiration for him has increased one-hundred fold. Moreover, anyone whom he regards as his enemy I am inclined to regard as my own.” She looked at him pointedly. “I trust you take my meaning, sir.”
Having forced Elizabeth to say what gave no one any pain but himself, Wickham then departed.
Jane joined her sister immediately thereafter. “Lizzy, what have you done to Mr. Wickham? I do not recall ever seeing him so dispirited. Pray the two of you did not argue over his sudden interest in Miss King?”
“Oh, if that were only the case, Jane,” said Elizabeth, taking her sister by the hand. “Come and take a stroll in the garden with me. What I am about to convey requires the utmost privacy.” Elizabeth had not told anyone what Darcy had confided in her about his family’s history with George Wickham. Darcy had placed a great deal of trust in her discretion, and Elizabeth was not about to betray that trust. Still, she felt it incumbent upon her to share what she could about the exact nature of the lieutenant’s character with her closest sister. Thus resolved to omit every particular of Mr. Darcy’s account as it related to his sister, Miss Darcy, Elizabeth conveyed the history between the two gentleman in such a way that Jane would have no doubt that Wickham was not the epitome of goodness he pretended to be.
What a shock this was for poor Jane, who only meant to see the good in everyone. Should anyone falter in that regard, Jane was always the first to reason it away in the best possible light. “Poor Mr. Wickham! There is such an expression of goodness in his countenance and such openness and gentleness in his manner. However, I know Mr. Darcy to possess all those agreeable traits as well. You mentioned that they were raised together—that they were the best of friends at one time. Could this merely be a misunderstanding between them that simply wants a measure of forgiveness on both their parts?”
“Jane, I always supposed the same, and that is the reason I was willing to give both gentlemen the benefit of the doubt. It is more than Wickham’s repeated lies about Mr. Darcy’s denying him the living that he says ought to have been his—much more. I am not at liberty to say more, but you must trust me when I say that Wickham’s behavior towards Mr. Darcy and those closest to him is both shocking and appalling. Wickham is not to be trusted, and I wonder if I ought to make our acquaintances in general understand his character.”
Jane paused a little and then said, “He has given us no occasion for exposing him so dreadfully. Perhaps it ought not to be attempted.”
“You are quite right. Mr. Darcy did not authorize me to make any part of his communication public, and if I endeavor to make people aware of Wickham’s conduct without substantial proof, who would believe me?”
Jane nodded. “What’s more, to have his errors made public might ruin him forever. I contend he is anxious to re-establish his character. Surely his interest in Miss King, should it lead to an alliance, will go a long way in helping him in that regard. Let us do nothing that would make him desperate.”
Thus resolved, the two sisters headed back inside the house. What a mixture of chaos and heightened emotions greeted them upon their return. Mr. Collins had done the unthinkable. He had spurned all the Bennet daughters and offered his hand in marriage to Miss Charlotte Lucas. What Elizabeth found most disconcerting was the fact that her intimate friend had accepted the foolish man.
Mrs. Bennet blamed herself. “Oh, why did I pin all my hopes on that inconstant Mr. Bingley? My Jane might have been Mr. Collins’s wife by this time had it not been for my impatience to see her settled as the next mistress of Netherfield.”
Mrs. Bennet blamed Mr. Collins himself. “How dare he come around proclaiming his intention of choosing a wife from among his fair cousins and lapping up all of Longbourn’s hospitality when all he actually meant to do was to take a full and thorough accounting of his future home and make laughing stocks of us all. Oh! I knew there was a reason I always detested the man.”
Most of all, Mrs. Bennet blamed Charlotte Lucas. “That scheming conniver has always been an artful sort of girl. She and her family have always been all for what they can get. I knew she had a secret agenda for calling on Longbourn as often as she did; parading herself in front of a man whom she knew was destined to marry one of my daughters, and using her feminine arts and allurements to steal him away. And now I find out that such a woman is to be the future mistress of Longbourn.” Fanning herself profusely with her linen handkerchief, Mrs. Bennet threw herself on the sofa. “I believe I shall go distracted.”
~*~
Sitting in his study, slowly imbibing his drink, and staring at the fiery flames dancing about the fireplace, Darcy endeavored to piece together what might have happened during his recovery. What if his vivid dreams were not dreams at all, but events that had actually unfolded during his drug-induced state?
I have never supposed my cousin to be conniving and calculating. He then recalled that farce of a letter she gave him—the one that was meant to fool him into believing that Elizabeth never wished to see him again. It had indeed given him cause to know that his cousin was not above fabrication and deceit.
What if this is her final act of desperation? To accuse me of fathering her unborn child, which she may or may not be carrying? As he began to question whether she was indeed with child, but someone else was the father, the worst possible scenario conceivable came to his mind. What if what she is accusing me of is true? Then all my hopes and dreams for a future life with Elizabeth would be no more. He would stand by his cousin rather than allow her to suffer shame and derision, even if it were of her own making. He cared for her too much to do otherwise.
Thoughts of the light and pleasing figure of the woman who truly held his heart came to mind. Standing, he walked to his desk. He could no longer put off that which he knew he was obliged to do.
&nbs
p; Days later, what a surprise it was for Elizabeth to be receiving a letter from Miss Georgiana Darcy, especially after having gone so long with no correspondence at all between them. Her pleasure soon surrendered to panic that another tragedy may have befallen Mr. Darcy. Calmness ensued when, upon opening the missive, she saw that it was from Mr. Darcy himself.
She did her best to hide her joy from the rest of the family as she quickly made her way to her room to read his letter in privacy.
Each carefully written line disquieted Elizabeth. The missive was hardly written in the spirit of an absent lover’s hand. Indeed, the last part concerned her. Skipping the initial pleasantries that were to be expected in a letter from one whom she had known for so long a duration, she read the disconcerting part once more:
“Though disguise in any manner is my abhorrence, there are times when such desperate measures are the only means available. This is one of those times.
I am afraid there has been a grave misunderstanding, the importance of which has the potential to alter the course of my life forever. It has to do with my cousin Lady Victoria Fitzwilliam.
It is not something I am at liberty to discuss by letter, but please be assured I am more than eager to discuss it with you. I have been unable to return to Hertfordshire as soon as I had hoped, but believe me when I say I will come to you and explain everything as soon as I can. Yours, FD”
Chapter 18 ~ Ponder the Matter
Being surrounded by a household full of relatives was something that distinguished this Christmas from Christmases gone by for Elizabeth. In addition to her immediate family members, the Gardiners were visiting from town. If she had thought that her youngest sisters were silly before, they were even more so now, only this time the gaieties afforded by the Season perfectly allowed for it. Elizabeth’s little cousins, the Gardiners’ four children, brought out the silliness in everyone.
A relatively young woman in comparison to Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips, Mrs. Gardiner’s business, when she was not describing the newest fashions and various goings on in London, was listening. First, there were Mrs. Bennet’s fervent complaints of being ill-used by so many to sort through, which must surely command a great deal of time and a fair degree of patience. Then the younger girls demanded their fair share of their aunt’s attention. When, at last, it was Elizabeth’s turn, she and Mrs. Gardiner contrived to be alone in the east parlor.
Sitting next to her niece, Mrs. Gardiner said, “I understand from your mother, there have been any number of suitors parading about Longbourn of late.”
“No doubt Mama was lamenting her inability to land all of them as husbands for my sisters and me.”
“I believe what pained her most was that the heir of Longbourn chose a bride other than one of her daughters.”
“Ah, Mr. Collins.”
“Yes, I understand his express purpose in coming here was to choose a bride from his fair cousins and yet he chose Miss Charlotte Lucas.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Indeed, you can well imagine how much it pains Mama to have to endure such a prospect as someone other than herself being the mistress of Longbourn.”
“My sister affirms that the young lady conspired to steal him away and that her purpose in befriending you was merely to have a good excuse to always be at Longbourn.”
“It is true that Charlotte and I have become rather fast friends. I cannot ascribe such nefarious motives to her as does Mama. While I did not at first like the idea of Charlotte accepting my hideous cousin’s hand, I have been given to consider that Charlotte is practical. With so many younger siblings, she found herself a burden to her family and now she will be mistress of her own home. Besides all that, I am much relieved that Mr. Collins did not go through with Mama’s initial scheme and offer his hand to Jane or Mama’s second scheme to offer his hand to Mary. I fear either of the two of them would have accepted him, and I have always supposed both of my sisters deserve better.”
“I suppose we have Mr. Bingley’s visit to thank for sparing Jane such a prospect.”
“I fear that is one of the few benefits that arose from his visit. His coming was certainly a cause for anticipated hopes, but I am afraid his leave-taking was yet another means of disappointing Jane.”
“I am sorry to see Jane so disheartened once again over Mr. Bingley’s inconstancy. He seems like such an amiable young man, but I have only met him once when we were all at Pemberley. His brief stay allowed little time to sketch his true character.”
“I would say he is very agreeable. He is handsome and charming; indeed, everything a gentleman ought to be. When he was with Jane, he displayed every symptom of a man who is violently in love, but I have heard him boast that whatever he does is done in a hurry. This must certainly explain his repeated ability to separate himself from my sister without taking a proper leave.”
“I recall your last letter hinted of Mr. Darcy’s rather precipitous leave-taking as well.”
“Indeed, he had planned to remain in Hertfordshire longer but he was summoned to Derbyshire by his uncle, the Earl of Matlock. It had to do with the health of his daughter, Lady Victoria Fitzwilliam.”
“Pray the young lady’s situation is not grave.”
“I am afraid that I cannot say. I know this is rather untoward, but I received a letter from Mr. Darcy. I had hoped for some indication of when I might see him again, but the letter provided no such assurance.”
“Indeed, it is most unconventional for a single man and a single woman who are not engaged to exchange correspondence. I know how much you admire the young man. Is there something you are at liberty to share about the actual nature of your feelings?”
Elizabeth half smiled and remained silent.
Mrs. Gardiner placed her hand lovingly upon her niece’s. “You may keep your secrets. I know that you and Mr. Darcy have been intimate acquaintances for a long time – much longer than the brief span of our relationship – so I dare not council you in that regard. I trust you know what you are about.”
The Gardiners stayed a week at Longbourn, and what with the Philipses, the Lucases, and the officers, there was not a day without its engagement. Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the entertainment of her brother and sister that they did not once sit down to a family dinner.
~*~
Lady Sophia was much too mindful of the inconvenience her being at Longbourn had caused the Bennet family. Although it would be her first Christmas apart from Elizabeth since they came into each other’s lives, she had removed herself to London. Doing so had ensured there would be ample room for the Gardiners to spend Christmas in Hertfordshire, which had long been a family tradition. However, her ladyship did return to Longbourn in January. She immediately detected the gloomy cloud of despair that had fallen over the manor house while she was away. Elizabeth, whose spirits were generally high, seemed pensive and reserved. Jane was nursing a broken heart, and Mrs. Bennet was aggrieved that the heir of the estate, that supercilious Mr. Collins, had chosen to marry Charlotte Lucas.
Lydia was merciless in her teasing of both her older sisters, for, once again, Jane had failed to garner a proposal from the amiable Mr. Bingley, and Elizabeth, with all her wealth and supposed status, had failed to turn the head of the haughty Mr. Darcy. The silly young girl loudly boasted to everyone who would hear that she was certain to be the first Bennet daughter to be married, which pleased her exceedingly, even though it did nothing to heighten her sisters’ spirits.
Lady Sophia offered the perfect remedy for everyone’s despair. “Why don’t all of you join me in town for the Season?”
Mrs. Bennet’s pleasure in hearing this was immediate. “Oh, we shall be delighted. What a wonderful thing this will be for my girls.”
Indeed, there was but one voice elevated in protest of the scheme—young Lydia’s. “Were this any other time, I should be delighted to go to town, for I know London can be quite diverting, but I have more than my share of fun right here in Meryton. Hardly a day goes by that I do not
garner the approbation of one officer or another, and I do so adore a man in a red coat.”
Mrs. Bennet uncharacteristically admonished her younger daughter. “What nonsense! There shall be many rich gentlemen in town—rich gentlemen, who shall render the officers quite inconsequential.”
“Oh, Mama! I would much rather spend my time with the dashing officers in Colonel Forster’s regiment. His new wife and I are the dearest of friends. Indeed, she is my closest friend in the world. I should hate to be parted from her.”
“For heaven’s sake, Lydia, do have some compassion for my nerves. I shall not sacrifice the prospects of all the rest of my daughters just so you might have the pleasure of staying close by your new friend. You are going to town and I will not hear another word to the contrary!”
Persuading Mr. Bennet to accept Lady Sophia’s invitation would undoubtedly prove a challenge as well. The one thing he hated more than spending time in town was the notion of doing so in the late duke’s home. The prospect of being beholden to such a vile man even if he was dead was abhorrent.
Elizabeth accepted the task of changing her father’s mind. Nothing she said, however, seemed to matter. At length, she said, “Papa, how can we heal as a family if you refuse to let go of the past?” Others might try to pass the shame of the late duke’s crime onto his daughter-in-law and his grandson and heir all they would, Elizabeth would never be a party to it, and, to the extent that it was within her power, she would not allow others to do so either. “None of what happened in the past was Avery or Lady Sophia’s doing, and surely you know they mean the world to me.”
“My dearest, Lizzy,” he said in response to her plea, “you shall have your Montlake family, which leaves you in the enviable position of having two families, I suppose. I shall never try to persuade you to think meanly of the Montlakes, but they are your family—they are not mine. The truth is these people mean nothing at all to me except to serve as my constant reminder of what might have been. Feeling as I do, it is best I do not prevail upon their hospitality. Surely you will agree.”