He slumped in a chair with realisation. A regard stronger than friendship had influenced his decision. Separated by miles and days apart, and yet Elizabeth was his reason for staying.
She was also his reason for desiring to leave.
Darcy was quite aware of his danger with Elizabeth. He would not allow his heart to feel attached. He was just as determined when he had walked into the library to glare at the chair in which Elizabeth last sat. She had cast a spell on him with her dancing eyes and quick thoughts. She was dangerous, but he could not afford bewitchment. Then Bingley had entered, and like a week before when faced with the prospect of never seeing Elizabeth again—and in the very same room—Darcy had agreed to remain.
He must leave Hertfordshire. He had seen first-hand what happened when one believed themselves in love, especially to a woman of inferior birth. Many years ago, his cousin, very close to him in age, had believed himself in love with the daughter of a country attorney.
Richard had visited his old tutor after finishing at Cambridge. His family wished him to enter law, but he was partial to the church and visited the tutor, now in charge of a small parish, for a taste of country life before deciding on his career. He enjoyed it immensely and soon felt attached to a local girl in the village. When she was introduced to Richard’s family, the girl soon showed her true character by attempting to seduce Richard’s elder brother, a viscount. Richard’s depressed spirits were horrifying to witness. When the Treaty of Amiens was broken, Richard offered his services as an officer against all arguments from the family. They had spent the last eight years terrified of his possible demise.
As if he had conjured Richard by thought, Briggs came in with the post and a letter from Darcy’s cousin. It was postmarked from London! The papers had reported that Richard’s regiment, the Second Dragoon Guards—commonly called the Queen’s Bay’s—had fought valiantly at the Siege of Ciudad Rodrigo in Spain. It was a massive victory for the Allies, and many hoped it would allow greater access into Spain. Letters from the Peninsula were infrequent, of course, but writing from London could hardly denote anything good. Darcy ripped open the letter.
Dear William,
I am sure you are reading this with your brow furrowed and all the worry of a grandmother, so I will not make you wait for the news. Yes, I saw action at Rodrigo. If it were not for Jacob Truman, I am sure this letter would have very different contents. Even so, while he spared me from a French bayonet, he could do nothing to prevent an illness setting in. The regiment is due to return in January, and Truman and I were sent ahead to allow my health to recover and to facilitate arrangements. We lost Major-General Craufurd, and there is talk of perhaps Lieutenant-General Vyse taking his position. Father would be delighted, of course, to have one of his political allies so closely related to the man in “charge of my fate” as he puts it.
There is little more to say than that London never changes, and you know I can never be at ease here. Mother is matchmaking and pressing me to resign my commission. I have seen Georgiana. She seemed much altered since this summer and talked solely of letters from new friends of yours. Two ladies from Hertfordshire. What are you doing, man? It is unlike you to be captivated by a lady, and I gather she is without name or fortune. Beware, Cousin, I fear her desire to become Georgiana’s friend opens you to blackmail. Georgie may confide in this woman about her misadventure, or W— might seek her out somehow as he did with the governess. At least Georgie is now well settled with Mrs. Annesley and in London has the frequent visits of my mother and father. I had thought James might have called to check on her while I was away, but it seems he has not. Ah, but then we cannot expect viscounts to do our bidding, can we?
I trust I will see you ‘ere long. Either when you tire of Bingley or Bingley tires of the country.
Your cousin,
R. Fitzwilliam
Although Darcy was happy to hear of his cousin’s relative good health, he could not shake his anger at Richard’s blanket prejudice against Elizabeth. Looking at his hand, he tossed the now crumpled letter into the fire. He had already determined Elizabeth was unlikely to believe Wickham’s lies. If she could withstand him, then she was worthy indeed of his attentions. He did fear, however, that Elizabeth might believe Wickham’s slander of himself. Losing her good opinion and respect was something the honour in him cried out against. More still, honour had nothing to do with why he felt the need to pull Elizabeth from Wickham’s side. She was to be his and no one else’s, even for a minute.
He held his head in his hands. It was a weakness—it went against every piece of logic he was taught, against his character and reason—but his heart—traitorous thing that it was—battled with him to end its agony. His head throbbed, and he stared into the fire, seeking an answer until his eyes blurred. When Briggs came to assist him in dressing for dinner, chills racked him, and immediately he was sent to bed. Refusing to allow a physician to be called for what he insisted was a slight cold, he welcomed fevered dreams of Elizabeth.
At last, he awoke, drenched in sweat and his mind jumbled. Briggs was by his side and arranged for a bath and food. All told, he had spent nearly four days senseless and abed, and the ball was on the morrow. Taking a deep breath and slowly letting out an exhale, he came to a conclusion. “I will merely get to know her better—that is all. I will attempt to see her merits as a wife without prejudice.”
He spoke the words aloud to consider the situation resolved. Perhaps it might have been if Briggs had not entered the room to help Darcy dress after his bath.
“When you were ill, I could not tell you, but I put that piece of tatted lace from your pocket there on the table. Our Miss Georgiana is growing up rather nicely. So accomplished!”
After Briggs had left once more, Darcy turned to look and saw with a feeling of mingled resignation and appreciation that Elizabeth’s bookmark had never left his side.
*****
Elizabeth stifled a groan. The oaf, Mr. Collins, came near her again. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and Elizabeth gulped in disgust. The cold weather had not abated, and it still rained. She pulled her shawl closer as she sat near the window for better light. She nodded mutely at whatever inane words he said and returned her eyes to her book.
“I see you are fond of reading, Miss Elizabeth. I have not seen you with anything but a book this entire week! Lady Catherine has a very impressive library but cautions against young ladies reading too much. I have often seen her tell her daughter and Miss de Bourgh’s governess to put down their books. She reads frequently, even when I call, but one of her maturity and station in life should constantly be reading so she may pass her wisdom on to others.”
Elizabeth hugged her book closer. Only a few days ago, she insisted she had many interests other than reading. At the moment, she was so tired of books that she was nearly crying and would gladly take up the most boring embroidery, but books provided a shield from her cousin. At some point, it had registered to even him that he ought to leave a person intent upon reading alone. She surmised that Lady Catherine had similar reasons for her frequent reading in his presence. Having never met the lady, she wondered how the more experienced woman got rid of the odious man in front of her. Elizabeth had no superior position to lord over him, however, flattery…
“Mr. Collins,” she said suddenly, interrupting yet more senseless prattling. “If Lady Catherine gains her wisdom via reading, I wonder if a man in your position ought not to follow suit. A knowledgeable minister must be of greatest importance to his parish.”
“Indeed! Why, before leaving I gave a sermon on—”
“Do you need to work on your next one? Will Lady Catherine not be unhappy if it appears you have neglected your duties to God and the parish for our company?”
He frowned. “I would hate to displease or disappoint her in any way. If you will pardon me, I will just go upstairs to retrieve my notes and return.”
He spoke loudly as though to the whole room, although no one spared him a glance.
Elizabeth gave him a weak smile, and he quickly bowed and scurried away as fast as his large body allowed.
“Mama, I have a headache. Might I be excused to my room?” She could think of no other way to avoid Mr. Collins. Her mother had made her stay with the family this week much more than usual.
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes narrowed and searched Elizabeth’s face intently. “Very well, but I will not allow you to spend all day abed. I need you to speak with Cook about dinner tomorrow.”
Elizabeth quickly agreed and took the servants’ stairs specifically to avoid Mr. Collins on her route. Once sitting in her room, it occurred to her that her mother had never before asked her to look over the dinner plans. She knew how to make menus, of course, but her mother took great pride in her role as mistress of Longbourn. As suspicion that her mother was grooming her as her eventual replacement entered her mind, Elizabeth cursed the rain; it was addling her senses.
She had received a new letter from Miss Darcy earlier and had yet to read it.
Dear Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth,
I hope that my frequent replies do not become burdensome. I have never had a sister before and have always longed for one. My brother is the very best of brothers, I know, but it is not the same. My female cousins are all much older than me. At school, I was too shy to make friends. Perhaps hiding behind a pen gives me courage?
Please tell me all about your family and Hertfordshire. William seldom allows me to travel. Our estate is in Derbyshire, you know, and I have been in school for many years in London but have always wanted to see more of the country. I did see the coast last summer. Somehow it was both exhilarating and disappointing at the same time.
Your new friend,
G. Darcy
Jane entered the room just as Elizabeth finished reading. She shared its contents with her sister. Before they could reply, they were called to the drawing room again. Mr. Collins had gone to the library, and Elizabeth sighed in relief. Mary played something gloomy on the pianoforte in the adjacent room, and her youngest sisters bickered over lace while Mrs. Bennet extolled on how admired she was in her youth and how much she looked forward to Mr. Bingley’s ball. What once would have irritated, Elizabeth now found tolerable. How quiet and empty life would be without sisters and silly parents.
*****
Georgiana opened her newest letter from Misses Jane and Elizabeth Bennet with eagerness. She had never had friends with such uninterested motives before. By the time she entered school, the other girls were old enough to recognise the benefit of being acquainted with a Darcy. As they aged, it was clear they preferred an association with Fitzwilliam Darcy rather than Georgiana. She also understood the friendship Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst displayed for her was out of preference for her brother. She had known females her whole life who desired to only use her for her name.
One day last spring, shortly before she left on a holiday with her companion to Ramsgate, Miss Bingley was bemoaning a suitor who, she was certain, only cared for her dowry. Georgiana had not considered before that men could be as manipulative as women; she had only truly been in company with her brother and cousins. Yet even with her eyes newly opened to such men, she still fell prey to a fortune hunter.
George Wickham had been her friend in childhood, as much as a boy ten years her senior could be. He was her father’s godson and had once been good friends with her dearest brother. She felt no need to be on her guard when she met with him again, by chance she had thought, in Ramsgate.
With encouragement from her companion and the worries of Miss Bingley’s concerns in her mind, she felt it better to snatch up Mr. Wickham’s declaration of love while she could. It was better to marry him, although of lower birth, than a young man who needed her money only to save his impoverished family. She had not known the details of her father’s will or anything that had passed between Wickham and her brother. When he claimed to be a barrister on holiday, she quite believed him.
She had thought, too, at the time that she was in love with him.
Now, months later, it was not that she had believed herself to love him that caused her to doubt herself. The heart could be fickle and silly, she knew well enough from poetry alone. No, it was that she had thought she used logic and reason to come to the conclusion to not only accept Mr. Wickham’s proposal but even agree to an elopement. In the end, it was her heart—which could not grieve her brother—that saved her from a terrible fate.
However, she need not fear the Miss Bennets were insincere in their friendship. Her brother had selected them to correspond with her and assured her of the goodness of both ladies. She was now seeing so for herself.
Miss Elizabeth’s portion was most amusing.
It has not ceased to rain in four days! With four sisters in the house and a nervous mother, you may imagine how I feel. Then, knowing your brother, perhaps you cannot. Allow me to summarise the last half hour.
Jane, you know, is the eldest and my closest confidant. I could never break that confidence, but allow me to tell you that she is particularly looking forward to the ball on the morrow. I have never known her before to simply stare out a window and gaze at the rain. It is as if her mind—and I am certain her heart—is three miles away. Such serenity she has! While I am about to tear my hair out in frustration, she has a satisfied and even grateful smile upon her face. Grateful to the rain! Imagine that!
Mary is next to us in age. She applies herself very diligently to the pursuit of accomplishment, especially the pianoforte. You have expressed a fondness for the instrument, and if you two ever meet, I am certain you will have much to discuss. Perhaps you might even suggest lighter tunes to her? The ponderous and discordant notes she is fond of do nothing for the dreary atmosphere of the home. With the ball coming, she is practicing very constantly. My mother will interrupt her for some instruction on her gown or hair, which vexes Mary and makes her play all the more furiously until Mama is driven upstairs in need of powders.
Kitty and Lydia can talk of nothing but officers and how many dances they expect to enjoy, which is all of them. Do not say I shock you when I confess that at the last ball we had, I sat out twice due to lack of gentlemen. My youngest sisters have no idea how to enjoy themselves without exertion and attention. At this moment, they are in an intense argument over which one is most suited to a certain blue ribbon, which I believe actually belongs to Jane.
My father has stayed in his library, which is not so unusual, except when our current guest joins him there. The estate is entailed on a distant cousin’s line, and my father had quite the disagreement with the last heir before his death. His son has now arrived to make amends—I tremble in thought as to what that means to a household of five daughters—and is the most ridiculous man who has ever drawn breath. If he were only ridiculous, he would be a source of amusement. Instead, he is an odd mixture of humility and conceit due to his placement at a rectory abutting his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, whom he cannot praise enough. He has little of sense to say and says it constantly.
And now, my new friend, you may pity me. For we are all a very silly lot if a mere ball can send us on our heels. I will be sure to write after this most formidable event occurs, and you may laugh at the foibles and follies of the family Bennet once more.
Indeed, Georgiana did not laugh at them. It was refreshing to befriend someone who could laugh at themselves and their loved ones. Her own upbringing was much more serious, and she frequently condemned herself for having taken little heed of it in the face of her near elopement with Wickham. It was reassuring to see that censoring yourself and your family was not first nature to all the world. That as much as she knew she pained her brother for not thinking of the Darcy legacy, it was not exactly natural for it to be of the utmost concern to her either. Her brother encouraged her to write to the ladies, Miss Elizabeth in particular, but Georgiana needed no such advice. Dipping her pen in ink, she eagerly began her reply.
*****
George Wickham grinned as he gra
bbed his purse and stuffed it in his coat pocket. The rain of the last several days had loosened his fellow officers’ lips and purse strings. He was having an unprecedented stream of good luck at the tables.
The scheme he began with his old friend Denny, which was only that Darcy was in Meryton and he could try to profit from him somehow, was developing very nicely. He was rather certain Darcy was entangled with the country miss he had met.
“Wickham! There’s space over here; we are just beginning,” Carter called to him.
As he sat, Denny sent him a sly wink.
“What do you think of this ball tomorrow?” Denny began.
“Bingley is a good chap. His sisters believe they are superior to the area, so the food and drink will likely be excellent,” Carter answered.
“And the company?” Wickham asked with a roguish grin.
Carter smiled. “Those Bennet sisters are stunning. The youngest two are incorrigible flirts, eager for the attention of any man. But their mother is too marriage-minded for my taste. Best to stay clear.”
“It’s not just her scheming; it’s her voice. Mr. Bennet is a saint to put up with it.” Saunderson shuddered.
“He declares he has a fondness for fine port.” Carter grinned.
“What do you think, like mother like daughter?” Wickham asked.
“You are thinking to saddle yourself with one of them?” Carter asked.
Wickham frowned. “They have no fortune, I have heard. It would be imprudent, but then when is love prudent?” He needed to sound believable.
Saunderson leaned towards Wickham. “We saw you looking quite cosy with Miss Elizabeth at her aunt’s house.”
Sufficient Encouragement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (When Love Blooms Book 1) Page 6