“I hope Mr. Bingley was well?” she asked, and the question sounded silly, even to herself.
“He appeared to be fine, Miss Lizzy. He took the letter and thanked me. Then Mr. Darcy arrived and asked about the letter, and I informed him that it was from my master.”
“And what did he say?”
“Who, Miss Lizzy? Mr. Bingley or Mr. Darcy?”
She blushed at her own folly in front of the loyal servant. “Mr. Bingley.”
“He said nothing, miss. None of them did, in fact.”
“He did not give you any reply, did he?”
“No, miss. He sent nothing. May I go now? The master is waiting for me.”
“Yes, yes—of course. Thank you, John.”
Alone once again, Elizabeth returned to her distressing thoughts. Would Mr. Bingley not have read the letter and replied immediately? Most likely not. Perhaps, he was at breakfast yet. Surely, he will reply with something—anything. Even if he was upset by her mother’s inconsiderate behaviour, he could not possibly punish Jane for that. Or could he? What if they had misjudged the situation entirely? What if Mr. Bingley’s attachment to Jane was not as profound as they imagined? What if he only enjoyed her company and admired her beauty but never once considered a marriage proposal?
Or—even worse—what if his heart was truly engaged and he did intend to tie himself to Jane but the impropriety showed by their mother and younger sisters at the picnic made him reconsider? The expression of appal and disdain on the Bingley sisters’ faces was vivid in Elizabeth’s mind. She could read their disgust at being in the company of the Bennets—and even more so at the idea of being forever connected with the family. Without a doubt, they would use all their power to change their brother’s mind.
And Mr. Darcy—on what side was he? His behaviour to her had softened since they first met; his manners were almost friendly most of the time, and his acquaintance with her father had grown and deepened in only a few days.
But was that enough for him to allow his friend to enter into a marriage with someone with no connection, no wealth, and whose family possessed so little decorum? Could the sisters count on his support? Would he use the influence he had over his friend to convince him against his own desires?
Elizabeth realised that all her thoughts, wondering, and questions were to no avail. She did not know either of the people involved in that tormenting situation well enough to guess how they might act. She had only fears and assumptions—and hope. If only her fears were not stronger than her hopes. If only her heart did not constantly war with her reason.
If only Mr. Bingley would reply to her father’s letter.
***
That day, no note from Netherfield came, but Mrs. Bennet received a report from her sister Philips that both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had been in Meryton. She took the news as proof that they had business to attend that prevented the gentleman from writing. This piece of news threw Jane into a deeper sadness. It meant that they had been near Longbourn on their way but avoided being seen from the house.
“You must think me a fool, must you not, Lizzy?” Jane said later in the evening when they were alone in their room. I do not know why I am so affected by all of it. It is not as though Mr. Bingley has proposed marriage to me.”
“No, Jane, you are not a fool! It pains me to see you sad, and I wish I could help in some way. I am sure Mr. Bingley had good reasons not to respond yet.”
Jane smiled through her tears, and Elizabeth embraced her.
“I do not think I was mistaken when I said that Mr. Bingley loves you, Jane. Each time you were together, he had eyes only for you. He was utterly charmed.”
“I like him too, Lizzy! I do not know what I shall do if he…”
“Hush,” Elizabeth whispered softly. “This is of no use. We must hope for the best.”
Jane enjoyed the comfort of her sister’s arms, neither of them speaking. Then, finally, Jane asked her sister to tell her more about Mr. Denny’s visit and the Mr. Wickham that her sisters and her mother could not stop mentioning.
Happy to see a trace of interest and a slight relief in Jane, Elizabeth related the events with a light voice and great detail, insisting on her puzzlement regarding the new acquaintance.
“I cannot know what to think of him yet!” Elizabeth confessed while Jane looked at her surprised. “He seems open and charming and sincere…and yet…oh, Jane! I do not know what it is about him that bothers me so!”
“Do you have suspicions of his sincerity?”
“Yes…I have no clear reasons, but…it is not what he says but the way he says it. His eyes and his voice seem to contradict his words…I do not know, Jane.”
“Lizzy, I would say that you have every reason to be cautious in trusting a gentleman you only met for a few minutes. You are wise.”
Elizabeth laughed and kissed Jane’s cheeks.
“It is good to be the wise one for a change, dearest. For twenty years, I had my dear sister to be wise for me, and I hope to have her again. Now, let us try to sleep a little.”
“Very well.” Jane smiled back. “I have a good feeling about tomorrow, Lizzy. Perhaps all will be well and I worried for nothing.”
“Perhaps, dearest,” Elizabeth whispered, blowing out the candles.
***
Breakfast found the Bennets more at peace the next morning. Their conversation was lighter, as were their spirits. However, the room fell into silence when John entered, handing Mr. Bennet a letter from Netherfield. The messenger, he said, had already left without waiting for a response.
Under the family’s heavy scrutiny, Mr. Bennet unfolded the letter hesitantly. He put his glasses on and read silently for some time, then folded the paper and put it down. He looked at his family, and his gaze stopped on his eldest daughter while he cleared his voice.
“Mr. Bingley has informed me that urgent business calls him to London for an undetermined period of time. He is uncertain of his future schedule, so his family joined him. Jane, you have a brief note from Miss Bingley,” he concluded, placing the piece of paper in front of Jane. She stared at her father, then at the note, as though she could not comprehend the news.
Then she rose and hurried outside the room, and the door closed slowly behind her.
Elizabeth grabbed the note and ran after her sister while loud complaints burst from the dining room.
She found Jane in their chamber, staring out the window in a state of calmness that frightened Elizabeth more than her previous crying. She stepped slowly, not daring to intrude. Jane, however, turned to her with a serene smile on her face. Sadness was gathered in her eyes, shadowed by restrained tears.
“Jane...”
Elizabeth handed the note to her sister and watched as she looked through it with an unmoved countenance. At last, Jane spoke.
“Well, Caroline said the same—that they decided to return to London and that she is eager to meet their friends and especially Miss Darcy, whom she has missed dearly. Things are very clear, Lizzy.”
“Jane, Caroline’s note is useless and mean like her behaviour!” Elizabeth replied angrily.
“No, Lizzy, she is only being honest. I knew it all along. I feared it all the time. It was too much happiness too quickly. Like a dream! I only wish that I had not made presumptions of any kind and pained our whole family.”
“Oh, dear Jane, maybe everything is not lost. He might return…”
“I am sure he will not! There is nothing that can keep him here.”
“Nothing except his affection for you, Jane. Of that I am more certain than I have been of anything in my life.”
“Perhaps. But even so, it was not powerful enough. His ties to London are obviously stronger.”
“Only the future can tell, dearest,” Elizabeth concluded and embraced her sister tightly while her anger followed Mr. Bingley, his sisters, and his friend all the way to London.
Chapter Seventeen
Several days passed, and the news of Mr. Bingley
’s departure from Netherfield spread. The absence of such prestigious neighbours was met with endless suppositions in the small community of Meryton. Mrs. Bennet tried to appear unaffected, telling everyone who cared to listen that her family was not in the slightest affected by the unexpected departure.
Elizabeth’s thoughts were often occupied with worry for Jane and countless questions about Mr. Darcy. The degree to which she believed him guilty by the sudden departure of the Netherfield party varied from day to day. At times, she was convinced that the gentleman had no say in Mr. Bingley’s decision as she remembered his words at Netherfield clearly—that a man who is not capable of making his own decisions is not a man to be admired. But then, her trust in him—as fragile as it was—was shattered by a suspicion that Miss Bingley had managed to draw him to her side. Their mother’s behaviour at the picnic was likely the incentive he needed to finally turn as far from the Bennets as possible and take his friend with him.
The idea of Darcy’s having such a poor opinion of her and her family was painful and disturbing, throwing Elizabeth into a state of distress she had never felt before. But even worse was her suffering on Jane’s account. Her dear sister was grieving in silence, hiding her broken heart from everyone. She smiled, her manners were implacable, and her voice was calm and gentle, but the sorrow that devastated her soul was only visible to Elizabeth. Yet, there was little she could do, as Jane pretended she was fine and refused to discuss the subject. Only during the night, when tormenting dreams made her sigh and move restlessly in her bed, were Jane’s true feelings betrayed.
Elizabeth thought incessantly of any hope there could be for such an unfortunate situation, but she found none. More than once, she considered asking for help from her aunt and uncle in London, but sending Jane to the same city where Mr. Bingley resided was hazardous.
When an invitation for a little party came from Mr. Phillips, Jane declined to attend, and she could not be persuaded to the contrary. Elizabeth offered to remain with her, but Jane refused; she asked to be left alone, and Elizabeth complied with a heavy heart.
Mr. Bennet and Mary took the opportunity to follow Jane’s example. Mrs. Bennet opposed and argued with them but soon declared herself defeated and resigned herself to the misfortune of having only half her family in attendance. In truth, she was also in little disposition for entertainment, but the prospect of meeting officers eligible for her daughters and the curiosity or knowing what people were saying about Mr. Bingley’s departure were too strong.
On their way to Mrs. Philips’s, Mrs. Bennet pleaded with Lydia not to say a word to anyone about Jane or the problems she had encountered at home. Lydia declared herself uninterested in the matter and predicted that she would find more interesting subjects at the party in the company of officers, for surely there would be many.
As Lydia guessed, there were several Meryton families as well as a few officers, including Colonel Forster—the leader of the regiment—and his wife.
The party was animated, and the laughter and loud voices were overwhelming for Elizabeth, whose spirit remained low and whose disposition was unfavourable for a large gathering.
She startled when she heard someone greeting her over her shoulder.
“Miss Bennet—how delightful to see you here. I was hoping to meet you again.”
“Mr. Wickham—I did not expect to see you,” she said absently.
“Yes,” he said, his face opening in a smile. “It seems I am always where I am not supposed to be.”
“I did not mean it to sound that way, Mr. Wickham. I did mention that the surprise was a pleasant one.” She tried to put a little warmth in her distant voice.
“You did, indeed. As I said, it gives me much pleasure to be in your lovely company again, Miss Elizabeth. May I ask how your sister does, the lovely Miss Jane? I have not yet had the pleasure of making her acquaintance; I hope she will be here tonight.”
“My father, Jane, and my sister Mary decided not to come this evening. As pleasant as my aunt’s parties are, they were indisposed.”
Mr. Wickham looked at her with interest and then, without an invitation, sat next to her, startling Elizabeth.
“Miss Elizabeth, If you will allow me to be so bold, I think it is better that your sister has not become engaged to Mr. Bingley.”
The impertinent remark left her speechless for a moment.
The idea that the man next to her—and perhaps the rest of the party—was aware of Jane’s state of mind was unbearable, and the thought that he dared open the subject to her on such short acquaintance was astonishing.
“Pardon me, sir?” Elizabeth was mortified and not sure what to reply to such words.
“I dared coming here to speak to you because I perhaps may be of help. I might be in possession of facts that would help clarify…certain events.”
Elizabeth was silent, angered by Mr. Wickham’s audacity but also curious about his meaning. Her common sense told her to put an end to the discussion immediately, but her perplexity was stronger.
“I know it is highly irregular to approach you in such a fashion on such a subject, but I heard your youngest sister, Lydia, mention your sister’s frail state and her weaknesses. Of course, she spoke in the strictest confidence, and I can assure you of mine by my honour.”
Elizabeth was livid, but before she had time to reply, he continued.
“I can almost assure you that Mr. Bingley was not at fault in breaking your sister’s heart—not willingly at least.”
Mr. Wickham did not dare to pronounce Mr. Darcy’s name, and Elizabeth needed only a moment to understand that the officer was referring to him. And the manner in which he seemed to know more was too powerful to resist. Elizabeth looked at Mr. Wickham, aware that she could not trust him. And yet, there he was, promising to reveal something she longed to know. Could she refuse him when she had no reason to distrust him? She had to know the truth, however cruel that truth might be.
“What could you possibly mean, sir?” she finally inquired, inviting him to speak further.
Mr. Wickham’s gaze roamed around the room as though making sure he would not be heard, and then he continued in a low voice.
“As I said…Mr. Bingley did not make this decision. And by saying that, I dare presume you know the person responsible for such a heartless departure.” Mr. Wickham paused, expecting a reaction; Elizabeth looked at him, intrigued yet unwilling to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Her torment was increasing.
“I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth, I did not mean to upset you; I should not have said a word. Please accept my deepest apologises for my imprudence.”
He stood up, ready to retire, then bowed and turned.
“Mr. Wickham!” Elizabeth said, defeated. “Speak your mind. Whatever you have to tell me, I want to hear it.”
Smiling, Mr. Wickham acknowledged her request and sat again. Elizabeth looked at her mother, who sat at the card table in an intense discussion with her sister Philips, then turned to Mr. Wickham expectantly.
“As I told you in a previous discussion, Mr. Darcy and I know each other well. To tell you that he and I were raised as brothers I hope will give you an idea of the bond we had. Darcy”—Elizabeth closed her eyes as Mr. Wickham pronounced his name with such familiarity—“was my childhood companion, and there is no one I knew better. The late Mr. Darcy was my godfather. He was a most excellent gentleman to whom I shall always be in great debt; he loved me as though I was his own son.”
Mr. Wickham’s confession was of a deeply intimate nature; she felt moved, but her distress and curiosity only increased.
“However, Mr. Darcy—our mutual acquaintance—never felt the same; as the late Mr. Darcy’s heir, he had always been taught to believe that he was superior to anyone else. As I reflect on those times now, I can see signs of the young Darcy’s jealousy of me and my bond with his father, but being so young, I chose to ignore them. As we grew up, I began to feel his rejection of me, but even worse was that he even rejected his
own father. Miss Elizabeth, I do hope you will believe me when I tell you that the poor man suffered immensely due to his son’s cold treatment. He barely heard a good word from him—a son against his father!”
Elizabeth’s attention was now caught entirely by Mr. Wickham’s story; his voice sounded affected by the narration, trailing away at the end. Elizabeth’s heart felt torn in pieces while her mind was stirred by the new information. Could she have been so entirely wrong? Could his real nature be so vicious?
“My godfather even put me in his will. He left me a generous sum, and he expressed his wish that I be given a living as soon as one was available. I confess I have always wanted to become a member of the church, for I think there is no greater purpose in life than to serve God.” Mr. Wickham’s voice broke again. Elizabeth barely dared to breathe, waiting for him to continue his confession.
“Darcy handed me the money in the presence of his solicitors, but when the living became available, he refused to offer it to me, disobeying his father’s wish. He claimed that, since I had been given that money and did not use it for my education, his family owed me nothing else. He was very persuasive, making everyone believe that he was right and I was wrong. Needless to say, he convinced even his family.”
“Miss Darcy?” Elizabeth whispered.
“You know Miss Darcy?” Mr. Wickham asked with a trace of panic in his voice.
“No, no—I am more familiar with the name than with the lady herself.”
Mr. Wickham grimaced as if a painful memory had taken sudden possession of his mind.
“She is a charming young lady—very talented at the pianoforte. Everyone who knows her speaks favourably of her character. But I dare say she is too young to stand up to Mr. Darcy’s influence, and she became too much like him—too proud, too cold to the people who had once been her friends.”
Mr. Wickham turned to Elizabeth, and said in an even more grave tone of voice, “Miss Elizabeth, when I decided to dare approach you and tell you what I am telling you now, I did it for Miss Bennet’s sake. Darcy is a master at making decisions that harm people around him. I know for a fact that Miss Darcy had her heart broken by one of Mr. Darcy’s decision—as has happened with your sister now! The situations were similar, and their only fault was that they hoped to enter into an alliance that was not to Darcy’s liking.”
Meant to Be: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 20