Darcy's Adventures

by Zoë Burton

  Elizabeth, always happy to meet new people, was at first charmed by Mr. Wickham. Within a few minutes, though, she began to be uncomfortable with him. She could not say what it was, but there was a quality to his interactions that gave her pause. His behavior was everything correct, but there was an undefinable air about him that bespoke danger; a look in his eye that was not so very proper. She resolved to avoid him as much as possible and to warn her sisters to do the same. I shall tell Papa, as well, she thought, and urge him to restrict their contact with the man. Perhaps I might also accompany them to Meryton from now on. Elizabeth felt she must do all she could to protect them. They may choose not to listen, but at least she will have done her duty by them.

  Mr. Wickham, on the other hand, was quite intrigued by the vivacious Miss Elizabeth Bennet. When she wasn’t looking, he raked his eyes salaciously down her form. With curves in all the right places, she was exactly the type of woman he preferred. His time here was sure to be enjoyable with such delicious-looking ladies in the town.

  His first opportunity to ingratiate himself with her came two days later, at a dinner party held at the home of Sir William Lucas. Seeing Miss Elizabeth sitting alone, Wickham made his way to her.

  “Miss Elizabeth, how delightful to see you here.”

  “Mr. Wickham,” she replied with a nod, hoping he would take the hint that he was not welcome and move on. Her hopes were dashed, however, when he simply sat in the chair beside hers and settled in.

  “I was hoping to see you this evening. You impressed me the other day as a woman of great intelligence and wit, and I hope we shall be great friends.”

  Not if I can help it, Elizabeth thought. Out loud she replied, “I thank you for your compliments, sir, though I cannot imagine your reasoning behind choosing me, of all the ladies in this town, to befriend. Surely I was not the only one you have met since arriving.”

  While she was speaking, her youngest sisters, Lydia and Kitty, arrived at her side. Remembering this new officer to their small town and how nice he seemed when she had met him before, Lydia immediately injected herself into the conversation. “La, Lizzy must be careful now about whom she befriends. Her betrothed might not like her making friends with such a good-looking man. Lizzy, what would Mr. Darcy say about it? Would he approve?”

  Wickham went immediately on alert, but forced himself to respond casually, “Mr. Darcy, you say? Where is he from?”

  “He is from Derbyshire, sir.”

  “Ah, interesting. Have you known him long?”

  “Long enough that when he asked, I agreed to marry him.”

  Sensing Miss Elizabeth felt his question impertinent, he retreated a bit, apologizing for his lapse in manners. When he felt she was once again relaxed enough, he began to weave his story for her. It was one he had told often, for various reasons. Usually he told it to garner sympathy for himself or to discredit his childhood friend, for that’s what Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire was—a childhood friend.

  The two boys had grown up together at Pemberley. George was the son of the steward and Fitzwilliam was the heir. They were months apart in age, with Fitzwilliam being the older, and both had lost their mothers in their thirteenth year. Both received the same education, for the elder Mr. Darcy paid for George, who was his godson, to attend school as a way to reward his steward for his faithful service. It was not until that first year at Eton that George began to see a difference between himself and his friend.

  George’s mother, when she was alive, had been a spendthrift, and her son inherited that tendency. Living on Pemberley as he had, with free access to the kitchens and pretty much anything he wanted, his style of living was not that different than had he been Darcy’s son instead of Wickham’s. However, at Eton he was made painfully aware that he was nothing more than the offspring of the steward. He no longer had access to whatever he desired, and his charm, which had worked so well at Pemberley, no longer was as effective. It was pointed out by all and sundry that he was a servant, albeit a blessed one.

  Fitzwilliam had done his best to shield him from the abuse he suffered as a result of his origins and to force his acceptance, but it was never enough. As the years of their schooling passed, the two grew apart, Wickham doing whatever was required to be accepted, ultimately becoming heavily involved in gambling, drinking, and consorting with the maids. Darcy, whose acceptance was guaranteed, withdrew more and more into himself and away from the pranks and carousing of his peers. By the time they entered Cambridge, their only connection was a tenuous one through Darcy’s father. Darcy stoically cleaned up Wickham’s messes during their university years, in order to preserve his family’s good name and his father’s fondness for his godson.

  Darcy’s father passed within a year of his leaving University. Wickham’s followed a mere six months later. It was while he was at Pemberley for his father’s funeral that Wickham finally made application to Darcy for the legacy he knew his godfather had left him. His disappointment and anger were great when he discovered that other than one thousand pounds, the only other thing left him in the will was the gift of a living, the one at Kympton, near to Pemberley, and that only if he took Holy Orders. He refused the living, and charmed Darcy into giving him three thousand pounds in exchange. Telling his boyhood friend he was planning to study law, Wickham instead ran through the money in two years. When he heard the living was open, he wrote to Darcy asking for it, but Darcy refused. To avenge himself and get the money that he felt should be his, Wickham tried to convince Darcy’s younger sister, Georgiana, to elope with him.

  Fate was against him there, too, for while the fifteen-year-old girl was convinced of his undying love for her and that her brother would be thrilled to be surprised, when Darcy showed up unexpectedly, she told him everything. Wickham received a letter from him two days prior to their departure date, denying him Georgiana’s hand unless he met certain conditions and threatening dire consequences should he attempt to deceive them. Wickham’s response was to run.

  Of course, he did not share all of these details with Miss Elizabeth. He left out anything that might make her think less of him, and twisted other facts around to make Darcy appear the cad. From all appearances, she believed him, and he had hopes of ruining Darcy’s happiness further by taking his betrothed’s affections away from him. Of course, being the cold man Darcy was, he may not mind a broken engagement. Only time would tell, and Wickham had plenty of that. Having finished his story, he looked expectantly at his prey. He was left to wonder at his success when she responded.

  “That was quite a tale Mr. Wickham. Thank you for sharing it with me.” So saying, Elizabeth rose from her seat, curtseyed, and walked to the fireplace to join her father and some of the neighboring gentlemen.

  Elizabeth was neither taken in nor amused by his story. He couldn’t know, of course, that she was already wary of him when he began. It was the increasingly bizarre details of his story, that did not match up in any way with what she knew of her beloved’s character that put an end to her desire to maintain the acquaintance. She knew in her heart that he was lying, though she could not imagine why. It was apparent that he had some sort of grudge against Fitzwilliam. She determined to stay as close to her parents as possible for the remainder of the evening.

  Chapter 5

  At home that night, before the family retired, Elizabeth knocked on the door to her father’s bookroom and asked to speak with him. When he granted permission, she closed the door behind her and took a seat in her favorite chair, near his desk.

  “What is it you wish to speak to me about, my child? I noticed you remained close to me most of the evening.”

  “I did, Papa. I am not certain where to begin, so I shall just say it and if I am unclear, you will need to ask for clarification.” She looked questioningly at him, and upon seeing his nod, she told him about meeting Mr. Wickham in Meryton and her discomfort in his presence and then the unbelievable characterization he gave of Mr. Darcy. She ended with, “I cannot explain
why, but I am uneasy in his company. Even before the dinner party, I did not wish to maintain a connection to him.”

  Mr. Bennet, having listened intently and asked questions where necessary as she spoke, thought for a moment about all he heard. “If you are uncomfortable in his presence, then you should avoid him as much as possible. He is an officer and as much as the populace admires soldiers, their reputations are not spotless, on the whole. Do not be alone with him. In fact, I believe that you should probably take a groom or footman with you now that you have resumed your rambles in the mornings, for protection.”

  “As much as I dislike the idea, I will agree. But what about my sisters? Lydia in particular seems enamored of him. I worry for her.”

  Nodding, he replied, “I shall take care of the problem with them. I will make it clear that no officer is welcome in this home, and that Lydia and Kitty, especially, are not to venture into Meryton without you, Mary, or Jane in attendance.”

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  Mr. Bennet smiled at his favorite child. “You are welcome, my dear. Is there anything else your old Papa can fix for you tonight?”

  Elizabeth laughed, “No, sir. That is all.”

  “Then off to bed with you.”

  Standing up and kissing his head, she responded, “Good night,” and left the bookroom to head up the stairs.

  ~~~***~~~

  The next morning, the Bennet ladies received a visit from those of the Bingley party. Caroline Bingley would have rather avoided the provincial Bennet clan, but her brother was convinced he was in love with Jane and insisted that his sisters get to know her better. At the prodding of their eldest sister, Louisa Hurst, Caroline finally agreed. With the upcoming nuptials between Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth, the sisters could not truly repine his choice, and would not, if it were not for the fact that Caroline wanted Darcy for herself.

  For weeks, Miss Bingley had tried to open Mr. Darcy’s eyes to the inferiority of the Bennets in general, and Miss Elizabeth in particular. She had pointed out every flaw, from the lady’s sharp, shrewish eyes, to the mother’s intemperate and uncontrolled behavior. But Darcy had been steadfast in his rebuttals, to the point of confronting Miss Bingley with her desires to have him for herself and making it clear that she would never have been his choice.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she pleaded, “surely you see the truth in my words! Miss Elizabeth has nothing to recommend her to a man such as yourself. Why, I am certain all your friends will reject her and then where will you be?”

  “Reject my wife? And lose their connection to me? I hardly think so. A connection to me is an important one. Few would risk losing it. And, to be honest, anyone who would dare raise my ire by rejecting Elizabeth is not someone I wish to associate with in the first place.” He paused, looking out the window as a thought entered his mind. Turning back to Miss Bingley with a gleam in his eye, he added, “What about you? Are you one of those who choose to reject my wife?”

  Caroline gasped. As much as she hated Miss Elizabeth for taking the place she coveted, she dared not reject a connection to such an important family. She would be ruined socially were she to do something so foolish. “Oh, no, Mr. Darcy, I did not mean to imply that I would do such a thing!”

  “That is excellent news! Let me be clear about one more thing, while we are having this conversation. You are not now, nor have you ever been, a candidate for the position of Mistress of Pemberley. While you are the sister of a gentleman, and that gentleman is my very good friend, you are not the daughter of a gentleman. That has always been the number one requirement for anyone desiring to be my wife. In addition, your behavior, while exactly that of every other woman of the ton is not endearing. Had I desired to marry someone who was conniving, gossiped about others, and put on airs, I would have married years ago. I chose Miss Elizabeth because she is everything you and all the other women of high society are not. She is sincere, she is kind, and she is intelligent and unafraid to show it. You never had a chance, Miss Bingley.” He rose from his seat, sketched a shallow bow to her, turned on his heel, and left the room.

  Caroline was speechless. She heard his words, but could not believe them to be true. Why would he say such things, she wondered. He cannot mean them!

  Now, with Mr. Darcy away, Caroline felt she had one last chance to break the couple apart. She had made the acquaintance of Mr. Wickham at last evening’s dinner. She recognized his Derbyshire accent and inquired of his connection, if any, with the Darcys. Before long, the conversation turned to Mr. Darcy’s betrothal to Miss Elizabeth, and the lieutenant had passed along to her an interesting piece of information that she was quite eager to share with her adversary. She wasted no time in doing so.

  “Miss Elizabeth, have you heard from Mr. Darcy?”

  “I have not. With him only being gone a few days, we decided against such a scheme.”

  “I am afraid, then, that I have bad news,” Caroline put forth, a patently false look of sadness on her face.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, I am certain of it. For you see, I have it on good authority that Mr. Darcy is already engaged to his cousin, Miss Anne De Bourgh.” She turned to Mr. Collins, who was sitting nearby, to ask, “You hold the living to the De Bourgh parish, do you not? Can you confirm or deny the report?”

  “Unfortunately, no, my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine De Bourgh is too important to share such personal details about her family with a lowly, though cherished, clergyman such as myself.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her cousin’s ridiculous answer. Why can he not just say no and leave it at that, she wondered. She was relieved that he was unable to confirm the report of the obviously jealous Miss Bingley, but Elizabeth admitted to herself that the whole thing made her uneasy. After being subjected to Mr. Wickham’s incredible and obviously false tale last evening, she wanted nothing more than to be in Mr. Darcy’s arms as he assured her of his love, and his availability. She was forced to turn her attention away from her introspection when Miss Bingley spoke again.

  “Well, I am quite certain it is true. Why would Mr. Wickham lie about it? Surely, Miss Elizabeth, you would not want Mr. Darcy to break his cousin’s heart and go against his family’s wishes to marry you?”

  Eyebrows raised and head tilted, Elizabeth’s reply was delivered sweetly but firmly, “Indeed not, but then, Miss Bingley, you would also be required to give up your hopes in that direction, were your statements in fact true.” No other words were needed as Caroline paled and quickly tried to change the subject.

  Mrs. Bennet, who had spent the majority of the conversation attempting to make sense of it, finally added her two pence when she understood that Mr. Bingley’s sister had her eye on Mr. Darcy for herself. In her typical loud fashion, she interrupted her guest and declared, “Oh, no! Mr. Darcy is far too honorable a man to ever offer for our Lizzy if he were engaged elsewhere! And why should he offer for a sickly, thin woman—which is how Mr. Collins has described Miss De Bourgh to us—when he can have a healthy, voluptuous wife like Elizabeth? She is everything a man desires!”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bennet, that will be enough,” Mr. Bennet boomed from the doorway. Having heard his wife begin after being quiet so long, he knew what was coming and so rushed to the drawing-room from his study next door to try and stem the flow. “I should like to speak to you in my bookroom, if I may?”

  “Now? I have guests! I cannot speak with you now, you will have to wait.”

  “Yes, now, Mrs. Bennet,” her husband thundered.

  With a squeak, she rose and hurriedly left the drawing room. Mr. Bennet closed the door behind them, leaving his daughters to their guests.

  After a pause, Elizabeth said, “As indiscreet as my mother’s words were, I have to say that I agree with them. Your purpose, Miss Bingley, is thwarted. I have come to know my betrothed very well, and I know he would not offer for me if his honor were engaged elsewhere. I do not know who the source of your information is, but I should be very careful to whom I ga
ve credence, were I you.” She looked purposefully to her guest, noting the lady’s pale features and shocked eyes. “Now,” she continued, “what say you of the weather?”

  Miss Bingley and her sister did not stay much longer before they took their leave. The Bennets were relieved to have them out of the house, even Jane, who could not understand why her friend would say such things.

  Caroline spent the entire three mile ride back to Netherfield complaining to Louisa about the visit and her lack of desire for a connection to such a common and ill-bred family.

  Chapter 6

  The day before Darcy was scheduled to return to Meryton, Elizabeth decided to walk to the stable to visit the barn cat, which had recently given birth to kittens. Being so close to the house, she did not ask a maid to accompany her. In addition, Longbourn had a coachman and a groom in their employ, and both could usually be found at work in the building, so she would not be truly alone.

  She cheerily greeted the horses as she walked past their stalls, and when she reached the last compartment on the left-hand side, she quietly opened the door to let herself in. She pulled it closed before she knelt in the straw to pet the cat and admire the month-old babies. Her attention was so focused on them that she was unaware of the stall door opening again, until the mama cat let out a hiss. Startled, Elizabeth dropped the kitten just as a hand clamped over her mouth.

  An arm then snaked around her waist and pulled her to her feet. She was held with her back against her assailant’s chest. She clawed at his arms and then his face. When she made contact with his cheek, scraping her nails across it, he quietly cursed. Letting go of her mouth, he spun her around and slapped her, hard, stunning her and causing her to fall to her knees. The man hauled her up by her arm and gripped her face with his free hand.