Elizabeth Bennet's Deception: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary

by Regina Jeffers

  “Lydia,” Mr. Gardiner growled. “The foolish chit brought havoc to the Bennet household. What I do to right this wrong, I do for her sisters. If not for Jane and Elizabeth, I would allow Lydia to slip into oblivion. Mrs. Bennet permits her younger daughters too much latitude.” Another pause brought a second evaluation of Darcy’s personage. “May I inquire of your intentions toward our Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy? I cannot imagine a gentleman of your consequence interfering in a private matter without a personal inducement.”

  Darcy sipped his brandy before answering.

  “Once Miss Elizabeth’s duty to her family is resolved, I mean to propose to your niece.” Darcy paused before adding, “Again.”

  “Again?” Mr. Gardiner’s surprise spoke of Elizabeth’s keeping secret the truth of their relationship. “You offered your hand to Lizzy, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Twice.” Darcy regarded Mr. Gardiner with respect. “Of course, the second time was upon our recent journey to London. Making the spontaneous proposal was part of my ruse to prove Miss Elizabeth meant to protect her family at all cost. Needless to say, if she accepted, I would count myself blessed. Yet, as your niece assumes I believe Mr. Wickham ruined her, she had no choice but to refuse. Miss Elizabeth is well aware of my history with Mr. Wickham, and if she were truly subject to Wickham’s so-called charms, the possibility of her carrying his child would prevent me from claiming her to wife. What Miss Elizabeth forgets is Mr. Wickham is the beloved godson of my late father; therefore, I will never be truly free of him. All I can do is to shield the Darcy name by placing distance between my family and Mr. Wickham.”

  “Yet, if we are successful in saving Lydia, it would make Mr. Wickham Elizabeth’s brother in marriage,” Gardiner cautioned.

  Despite his best efforts, Darcy felt his features tightened. He weighed the negatives of having a connection to Mr. Wickham against the pleasure of having Elizabeth at his side: His love for Elizabeth Bennet easily won out. He reasoned that Wickham would always be a shadow in Darcy’s life. Therefore, it would be bacon brained for him to deny himself a contented life.

  “Do we not all possess relatives we never see or only encounter once every decade or so?”

  Gardiner chuckled with satisfaction.

  “I can think of a few of mine I would avoid if possible.” Darcy thought immediately of Elizabeth’s mother: He imagined Gardiner’s sister brought the man more than one regret. “What of your first proposal, Mr. Darcy?”

  “In Kent, I declared my regard for your niece, but Miss Elizabeth took me to task for my participation in separating Miss Bennet from Mr. Bingley, as well as the skewed history of our relationship, which Mr. Wickham provided her. In truth, her charges brought me to a better understanding of my nature, and I found her criticism apropos. I have since made pronounced changes in my dealings, including confessing my perfidy to Mr. Bingley. My friend returned to Netherfield and Miss Bennet.”

  Gardiner regarded Darcy with mild amusement.

  “Then you will be pleased to know that Lizzy recently described you as the one person she most trusted.”

  * * *

  A note from Mrs. Younge came late on the first day, and after Darcy confirmed the accuracy of the information, he dispatched a payment to the woman. He suspected Mrs. Younge did not want her particular friend to realize she betrayed him to Darcy. Keeping Darcy away from Edward Street would be to Mrs. Younge’s advantage for she catered to those on the fringe of disrespectability. Her boarders would not want a light shone on their activities.

  “Miss Elizabeth.” The maid showed Darcy into the morning room when he called upon the Gardiner household.

  She glanced up from her tea.

  “Mr. Darcy.” For a brief second Elizabeth presented him the most welcoming smile Darcy ever experienced, and his heart leapt with hope. “You are earlier than I expected, Sir.” She gestured to a chair across from her. “Join me. Uncle called in at his warehouse, something about a late shipment. I fear you must be content with my company.” Gardiner’s servant poured Darcy a cup of tea. “The gentleman prefers milk, but no sugar,” Elizabeth instructed, and he thought it ironic Miss Elizabeth took note of his preferences. “Did you hear from Mrs. Younge?’

  Darcy shot a quick glance to Gardiner’s waiting servants, and Elizabeth perceptively excused them. When they were alone, he explained, “Mrs. Younge supplied the directions to a tavern with let rooms above in St. Clement’s parish.”

  “Then Tobias Dungle had the right of it.”

  “Yes, your uncle would likely have learned something of Mr. Wickham without my assistance,” Darcy allowed.

  Elizabeth ignored Darcy’s graciousness.

  “But not with such speed of purpose,” she countered. “How may my family thank you?’

  Darcy shook off her suggestion.

  “There is no need.” Across the breakfast table was not the setting he wished to renew his proposal. “I mean to call upon Mr. Wickham this morning. Your uncle gave me permission to negotiate in behalf of your family.”

  A shudder of what appeared to be dread shook Elizabeth’s shoulders.Would this be the moment she would admit her perfidy?

  “You will act with honor, will you not, Mr. Darcy? I could not bear it if you and Mr. Wickham came to blows.”

  Tears misted her eyes, and Darcy could not stifle the question rising to his lips.

  “Do you fear for my well being or that of Mr. Wickham?”

  A single tear escaped before Elizabeth wiped it away.

  “It would grieve me if this matter brought either of you to harm.” Her diplomacy gave Darcy no comfort. He wanted Elizabeth to claim affection for him.

  Darcy stood to announce his departure.

  “I mean to call upon Mr. Wickham. As you hold a vested interest in what transpires, I thought you should accompany me. I would not wish to come to an understanding of which you did not approve.”

  Elizabeth’s eyebrow rose in challenge.

  “You thought of my company without my harassing you into serving as my escort?”

  “Allow me credit, Woman, for making the effort,” Darcy teased.

  Elizabeth placed her serviette upon the table.

  “I am proud of your progress, Sir.” Her easy taunt almost made Darcy forget Elizabeth must soon speak of her purposeful deception. That conversation would determine whether they would travel into the future, hand-in-hand, or separate forever.

  * * *

  He waited another twenty minutes for her return, but Darcy knew the minute Elizabeth appeared upon the Gardiners’ staircase, she arrived at a decision. He wished he read Elizabeth better while they were still in Kent, but something changed since her appearance at Pemberley. He recalled his illustrious father speaking of the late Lady Anne Darcy and George Darcy’s connection to his wife. It was a week after he and his father stood in a cold rain to watch Lady Anne laid to rest.

  “Your mother,” his father said wistfully, “was the only one who ever could anticipate my response before I spoke the words. And likewise, I with her. Lady Anne and I were often of one mind.”

  At twelve years of age, Darcy could not fathom of what his father spoke, but the way George Darcy spoke of his late wife made the silent exchange of ideas an intangible prize awarded only to a few. Was it possible he and Elizabeth Bennet would know such understanding?

  “Gwenie, Mr. Darcy and I have a matter of import to discuss before we depart. We shall only be a few minutes,” Elizabeth announced when Darcy rose to greet her.

  “Yes, Miss.”

  Without a word to him, Elizabeth strode into the nearby sitting room. Darcy followed, closing the door behind him before moving to intercept Elizabeth. Therefore, when she turned from what was likely anxious pacing, she walked into his embrace.

  “Mr. D…” she blustered, but Elizabeth permitted Darcy to wrap his arms about her. “This is not what I planned.” She sighed in resignation before burying her nose in his cravat.

  “I know,” Darcy whispered into her hai
r. Catching the bonnet she carried, he tossed it upon a table. Darcy stroked Elizabeth’s back and simply enjoyed the way she fit snuggly under his chin.

  “It is best you tell me what brings you such distress.” Darcy meant to lift her chin with his fingers, but Elizabeth shook off his tenderness.

  “I cannot.” Elizabeth’s voice caught on a stifled sob. “It will ruin everything.”

  Darcy leaned closer, the heat and scent of her fueling his desire.

  “What will be ruined?” he encouraged.

  “This!” she insisted. Elizabeth clutched at his lapels, nestling closer to him. “You and I.”

  Darcy’s smile held a bit of devilment.

  “Is there a ‘you and I,’ Miss Elizabeth?”

  Tears misted her eyes when Elizabeth glanced up at him, and her bottom lip trembled.

  “Of course there is no you and I, and after I confess my perfidy there never will be.”

  “Would you like there to be a ‘you and I’?” Darcy lifted his brows in challenge.

  Realizing what she admitted, Elizabeth shoved free of Darcy’s loose embrace.

  “My wishes are of no concern of yours, Sir,” Elizabeth huffed. With her knuckles, she dashed away the remaining tears. “Mr. Darcy, I thank you for your intervention in this matter. My family is deeply in your debt, but at this juncture, it is best if Uncle Gardiner and I handle negotiations with Mr. Wickham.” Her chin rose in customary defiance.

  “No.” Darcy declared. “You will not send me packing again, Elizabeth Bennet. Not after your confession of only a few moments prior. We will settle this now.”

  “There is nothing to settle, Sir,” Elizabeth snapped.

  Darcy closed the distance between them.

  “There is the matter of your sister’s ruination,” he hissed.

  “You know?” A look of bewilderment crossed Elizabeth’s features before indignation arrived. “Yet, you allowed me to exact a pretense. Did you think to claim pleasure at my expense?” She turned her back on him. “Just leave, Mr. Darcy.” A treble of embarrassment marked her voice. “You know enough glee from my foolhardiness.”

  Darcy ignored her protestations; instead, he placed his hands upon her shoulders and edged her return to his arms.

  “You of all people know I would never claim joy from your mortification.” He caressed her shoulders when Elizabeth attempted to shrug off his touch. Darcy bent to speak to her ear. “I admit to permitting my worst fears to claim my tongue. I meant to lash out at you for the thought of you–of the most magnificent woman of my acquaintance–choosing the man I abhor above all others drove me to Bedlam.” He nuzzled Elizabeth’s cheek. “Yet, by the time I settled into your uncle’s carriage, my heart knew your tale impossible. You are too clever to succumb to the likes of Mr. Wickham.”

  “To whom should I succumb?” Elizabeth asked on a hiccup. Beneath his fingertips, he felt her anger fall away. Darcy wrapped his arms about her to line her back with his front. “You deserve a man who would cherish you above all others–one who would cater to your whims–one who values your intelligence as much as he does your beauty–one who wants you as his life partner and not simply the mother of a required heir. My revered father would often catalog things he loved about my mother. The way Lady Anne would straighten his collar before they entered a room full of guests. The odd manner in which she held a pair of scissors. The elegant style in which she snipped flowers for a bouquet. That is the type of man you deserve.”

  A shudder of regret shook Elizabeth frame.

  “Your portrait is enticing, Mr. Darcy, but it is as futile as my attempt at deception. Lydia’s flight from Brighton colors the future of all her sisters. The most I can hope is we save part of her reputation, but I ask myself why would any man choose a foolish wife with only a share of her mother’s portion as dowry? Even if Mr. Wickham performs his duty to Lydia, a stain will follow the family.”

  “And you believe I cannot overlook this stain?”

  “When I consider,” Elizabeth lamented, “that I might have prevented this madness? I, who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of what I learned to my family–had Mr. Wickham’s character been known, this could not happen. But it is all, all too late now!” Her sobs intensified. “You opened my eyes to Mr. Wickham’s real character, but I held my tongue. Oh, had I known what I ought, what I dared to do! But I knew not–I was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched mistake!”

  “This business is not your fault to claim. It was I who begged your silence. I should have made Mr. Wickham’s true nature known to those he meant to deceive.”

  “The truth cannot be denied: We both agree Mr. Wickham would not marry a girl whose lack of a substantial dowry would make it impossible for him to better his situation. How Lydia could ever attached him is incomprehensible.” Darcy had his opinions, but he kept silent. “Although it grieves me to say so, for such an attachment as this Lydia might suffer charms. I do not suppose Lydia deliberately engaged in an elopement without the intention of marriage, but I hold no delusions that either my sister’s virtue or her understanding would preserve her from falling an easy prey. Wishes are vain, and I possess no hopes of the connection you and I have claimed to remain after this matter knows a conclusion.” Elizabeth sighed in acceptance of her words. “Gwenie has waited long enough for our return. Let us see the end to this farce. I am anxious for Mr. and Mrs. Bennet to know relief.”

  Darcy held different ideas, but Elizabeth was too upset to accept reason. Now that Elizabeth admitted she considered becoming his wife, Darcy was not inclined to permit her to walk away from his life.

  “Then let us be about it,” Darcy declared as he placed Elizabeth’s hand upon his arm. He meant to grow old with Elizabeth Bennet by his side, and damn any obstacle placed in his way.

  Chapter Six

  “You are to remain close,” Darcy whispered as he escorted Elizabeth into a bustling inner city tavern. Their appearance brought a hush to a busy room.

  The beefy-built innkeeper hustled forward.

  “Yes, Sir.” The man attempted a bow, but his girth kept him off balance.

  “The lady wishes to speak to her sister. I believe she is in the company of a dark-haired gentleman of a comparable height and build to mine.” Darcy slipped a coin into the man’s hand.

  “Mr. Wiseman,” the innkeeper confirmed. “Be there something amiss, Sir?”

  Darcy shook off the suggestion. He did not want the innkeeper to drive Wickham from the inn and to force another search.

  “The lady has news of a personal nature for Mrs. Wiseman. We will not remain long, and I promise no trouble will come your way. Now, would you kindly provide me Mr. Wiseman’s directions?” A second coin earned the man’s cooperation.

  “Upstairs. Third door upon the right.”

  “Is there an empty room the ladies might use for their conversation?” One more coin produced a spare room key.

  “Last room on the right.” The innkeeper nodded his gratitude.

  Darcy did likewise before directing Elizabeth’s steps across the room to the stairs. He glanced back to make certain Gwenie followed. He knew from the stiffness in Elizabeth’s form the degradation in which Lydia Bennet sank ripped at Elizabeth’s sense of justice.

  “I have you,” Darcy whispered as they mounted the stairs. “Trust me. Mr. Wickham is a scoundrel, but he would never permit another to harm your sister.”

  Elizabeth nodded her understanding, but she walked as in a trance. When they reached the upper storey, Darcy halted her steps.

  “Tell me you will not have a fit of the vapors.” He bent to speak to her pale features.

  As Darcy hoped, his words of challenge did the trick.

  “I am not Mrs. Bennet,” Elizabeth declared testily.

  Darcy permitted himself a bit of a smile.

  “Certainly not. You are the incomparable Elizabeth Bennet.” He traced a gloved finger down Elizabeth’s cheek to capture her chin in the palm of his hand. Li
fting her chin where he might look upon Elizabeth’s countenance, Darcy asked, “Are you prepared to encounter your sister? It is likely you will not approve of what goes on here.”

  “Yes. Yes, I am composed,” Elizabeth assured.

  “Then take this key. Last room on your right. I will send your sister to you.”

  Darcy waited outside of Wickham’s door until Elizabeth entered the room. He noted her shudder of disgust, and as foolish as it sounded, her reaction only confirmed her as the one woman who would best complement his existence: Elizabeth Bennet would go to any lengths to defend their family. He knew no other woman who would even enter the premises.

  Before approaching Wickham, Darcy placed Gwenie in the hall between Wickham’s room and the one Elizabeth entered.

  “If you hear anything unusual or someone attempts to enter Miss Elizabeth’s room other than her sister Miss Lydia, you are to set up a caterwaul no one in these parts has ever heard before.”

  The maid sniggered.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  With a deep sigh of satisfaction, Darcy rapped on Mr. Wickham’s door. Within seconds, the door swung wide to reveal a half dressed Wickham.

  “Darcy? What brings you to this fine establishment?” His former friend appeared surprised to see him. Evidently, Mrs. Younge did not warn Wickham of Darcy’s inquiries. He worried that Mrs. Younge might tell Wickham of Darcy’s claim of a bride–one Wickham would recognize from Mrs. Younge’s description. Although Darcy enjoyed the idea of Elizabeth playing the role of wife, he did not want Wickham to thwart Elizabeth’s efforts to save her family name.

  “We have business,” Darcy replied in cold tones. Over Wickham’s shoulder Darcy spotted a disheveled Lydia Bennet. The fact the girl showed no shame at being caught in an intimate setting proved the power of Mr. Wickham’s “charms.” Darcy knew immediately Elizabeth’s hopes of whisking Lydia away to the safety of her uncle’s household would prove futile; therefore, it would be Darcy’s task to force Wickham to marry the girl. With that purpose in mind, he said, “Tell Miss Lydia to don a wrapper and then go to the last room on the right. Miss Elizabeth awaits her there.”