“Everyone is well.” Glancing at his sister, Darcy hesitated a moment, wondering how best to break the news to Bingley. “Georgiana, would you mind playing for us?” he said, not wishing to upset her by relaying the full story within her hearing.
“Oh yes, please do, Miss Darcy. I always enjoy your playing.”
Upon Bingley’s heartfelt appeal, Georgiana dutifully rose, opened the pianoforte, and began to play.
Darcy closed his eyes and listened to the music; unfortunately, that same dark cloud still hovered over him, preventing his enjoyment. Compounding his misery, the cheerful Scottish air reminded him of his dances with Elizabeth, which was particularly unhelpful in this situation. “My suit was rejected.” He could bear to say no more.
“Impossible—when I spoke to Sir William last week, he advised me that your offer was anticipated and, in every way, agreeable.”
“I believe it was, but I performed badly. I mentioned her lower circumstances…” He did not continue. As Georgiana played, each light and breezy note sank his spirits even further.
Bingley dropped his shoulders and shook his head. “I never understood that side of you, Darcy. I suppose it was in your upbringing to value rank and fortune above all else. I place more importance on a person’s sincerity and civility.”
“Yes, I suppose you are right.” Although Darcy had never considered anything other than rank and fortune, it seemed so inconsequential now.
“Surely, this is a mere misunderstanding that can be easily remedied.”
“Yes, I hope so.” Unfortunately, the only misunderstanding between them had been his own. Elizabeth had understood him perfectly well; she was an unsuitable choice, but he decided to marry her anyway. What a dolt you are, Darcy. You gave her no other choice but to reject you. His own conceit had been his undoing. However, after finally coming to this realization, he hoped he still had a chance to make amends.
Why had he never questioned his false perceptions before? Did he suppose Richard and Bingley to be naïve about such matters? He has no need for a generous dowry to increase his own coffers. Why would he place such importance on that requirement when its fulfilment would have given him no pleasure? Neither his father nor uncle had settled for a match against their wishes; why would he be expected to do any differently? Of course, now that he had insulted the woman of his choice, it made no difference whatsoever. The restrictions he had set on himself may well come to pass if he did not make proper amends to Elizabeth.
***
Two days after Elizabeth had rejected Darcy’s proposal, she sat near the fire, gazing out the window at the Longbourn meadow, once green and full of life, now brittle and dormant. She had enjoyed every morning ramble through that verdant grove; however, with winter fast approaching, no signs of life would be seen for many weeks hence. The return of spring seemed hopelessly out of reach, much like her matrimonial prospects.
She closed her eyes and listened to the fire crackle in the hearth. She doubted she could ever love another man enough to marry him. How could she have given her heart to a man who thought so little of her? Could she ever trust enough to fall in love again?
These past two days had been difficult; she had little appetite, nor could she sleep. Even her beloved books, which usually brought her joy, held no appeal. She had played the pianoforte last night, preferring sad, mournful pieces to her usual uplifting music. However, after thirty minutes, her mother had chased her away and instructed Mary to play something more cheerful.
Mrs Bennet claimed that if Elizabeth did not take care, she would lose her bloom of beauty and no man would want to marry her. She had to admit, she had allowed disappointment to seep into her heart and hamper her mood. But no more—she would resume her happy attitude and carry on as best she could. What’s more, nothing would prevent her from sharing in Jane’s happy anticipation of Bingley’s return.
“May I join you?” Charlotte Lucas entered the sun parlour and sat beside Elizabeth on the sofa. Although she had not seen her dearest friend in a sennight, she need not explain her subdued spirits; Sir William would have advised her of Darcy’s disastrous visit. “What can I do for you, Eliza?”
Charlotte knew she suffered from disappointed hopes. “Nothing, I fear. Only time will heal my wounds,” Elizabeth said.
“Are you absolutely certain you cannot marry Mr Darcy?” Charlotte inquired, gently squeezing her hand.
Elizabeth clung to her friend. “No, even you would agree, that would be impossible.”
“But you love him, and my father believes Darcy loves you. Is that not what you always wanted—to esteem your husband?”
“Indeed, it was, until I discovered that the man who loves me cannot abide my family and would consider our marriage a degradation.” Charlotte gasped. “Yes, those were his exact words. My inferiority is why he left me and kept him from declaring himself. I could not consider spending my life with such a man.”
Charlotte clucked her tongue. “Oh, Eliza, you have let your pride prevent you from making an excellent match. You would never have cause to worry about your future, or your children’s futures.”
Elizabeth stifled a sob. Although Charlotte was her dearest friend, their views of marriage were vastly different. “Yes, I understand that security is your reason for marrying, but I need much more. I could not bear to be forever indebted to a man for improving my circumstances.”
“No, I suppose not, but it grieves me to see you so unhappy. You must promise to visit me in Kent.”
“I will.” Although Elizabeth had no desire to visit her insipid cousin, especially after his awkward departure from Longbourn, she could not disappoint her lifelong friend. Besides, she had no other invitations and no prospects for her own establishment; she may as well become accustomed to relying on the generosity of her friends.
Chapter 18
Saturday evening, Darcy arrived at the Blue Boar, a small tavern on the seedy side of London. He followed the blaring sound of revelry to the taproom, where the locals engaged in riotous carousing. He understood why Richard had selected a place out of the way, but the smell of unwashed bodies revolted him. He spied his cousin at a corner table, dressed in a black coat and white cravat instead of his regimentals. Sitting across from him, and similarly attired, was George Wickham. As soon as Darcy sat at the table, Wickham confronted him.
“What have you done to me, Darcy? My commanding officer allows me no freedom, I am granted no credit in town, and all doors are closed to me. Mr Bennet even set his dogs on me.” Richard barked out a laugh. “I suspect you had something to do with my present circumstances.”
Darcy ordered a round of ale from the harried waiter.
“It seems no one likes you, George,” Richard said with a smug grin.
Wickham leaned forward. “Why have you set everyone against me?”
Although Wickham’s refusal to admit any wrongdoing infuriated him, Darcy kept his temper under control. “Need I remind you of Ramsgate?”
“So now you are determined to destroy me, your childhood friend, who has known you since infancy.”
Darcy was not fooled by Wickham’s attempt to divert the blame for his own problems elsewhere. “What was your intent, my good friend, when you spread the story that I had denied your inheritance? We negotiated that agreement in good faith. Is it my fault you wagered it away?”
The waiter dropped three tankards of ale on the table, accepted Darcy’s payment, and hurried to the next table. “You squandered not only my uncle’s inheritance but also the one your own father left you,” Richard said, then took a long swig of ale.
Wickham shrugged a shoulder. “I had a run of bad luck. Once I come about, I will do well enough,” he said, avoiding eye contact with Darcy.
Of course, Wickham had never taken responsibility for his misdeeds—running out on his debts in Lambton, squandering his inheritance, attempting to elope with Georgiana, or injuring Kitty Bennet. He may have broken Georgiana’s heart, but at least she had escaped
any physical harm. Darcy could well imagine that Elizabeth must be distraught that her sister had been hurt.
A clamour arose as a fight broke out amongst the revellers. Darcy rolled his eyes as the patrons gathered around the combatants, choosing sides and casting bets on the winner. “Thank you, Richard. I can see why you recommended this place,” Darcy said, raising his pint in mock salute.
Richard remained unfazed by the uproar. “You may as well admit it, George; you have no skills with games of chance. You have lost more money than most men make in a lifetime. You would be far better off in the regulars. At least the army can teach you to be self-sufficient and you will not need to solicit charity from your friends.”
Spouting obscenities, the hefty landlord rushed into the taproom and dumped a bucket of water on the rowdy fighters, putting an end to the hostilities. Rebuking the offenders, he and the waiter seized the two men and bustled them out the door, restoring the room to its previous frenzied but ordered state.
Wickham, too, was unaffected by the commotion. “I would like nothing better, but I am at point nonplus and cannot afford the commission.”
“I can see to that for you,” Darcy said, then drank a generous portion of ale.
Wickham narrowed his eyes. “Why would you?”
Darcy maintained an indifferent air. “Or I can leave you where you are and allow the good people of Hertfordshire to teach you how to conduct yourself in polite society.”
Richard snickered. “Colonel Forster will no doubt protect you from troublesome shopkeepers and outraged fathers.”
Wickham hesitated for a moment, glancing between them. “I will need funds of my own—five thousand pounds.” Again, Richard barked with laughter.
Under no circumstances would Darcy concede the upper hand to Wickham. “My offer is five hundred, plus your commission, which I will pay directly to the army.” When Wickham shook his head, Darcy tugged his watch out of his pocket. “You have five seconds to agree or the offer is withdrawn.”
“Agreed,” Wickham said before Darcy even opened his watch.
“I will have my solicitor draw up an agreement and send for you when it’s ready. We will meet here again to sign and complete the transaction,” he said, then left the taproom without exchanging the usual civilities.
He called for his carriage, and while he waited, Richard caught up to him. “Leave it to me. I will find a regiment out of the country and convince him to take it. He will be gone within a fortnight.” They shook hands, and Richard walked back into the tavern.
Darcy released a beleaguered sigh, relieved that Elizabeth would soon have nothing to fear from George Wickham. When his driver appeared with the carriage, he boarded and, during the ride back home, began to anticipate the day when he would set eyes on George Wickham for the last time.
***
In the sun parlour, Elizabeth flipped through the pages of Lydia’s fashion magazine. Normally after Sunday services, she would read or work on her embroidery, but since she could concentrate on neither, she passed the time by viewing the colourful fashions. Page after page displayed illustrations of beautiful women wearing stunning gowns accented with a myriad of lace and ribbons. Ball gowns, evening wear, promenade gowns, riding habits, carriage dresses and bonnets; these women obviously had somewhere to go. When had her own life become so humdrum? Casting the magazine aside, she stared into the fire. Did she have nothing better to aspire to? Christmas was only ten days away. Should she not be in eager anticipation of that joyful holiday?
Jane entered the parlour and sat next to her on the sofa. “You will be proud of me, Lizzy,” she said, wearing a teasing smile. “I answered Caroline’s letter and told her I look forward to taking a cup of kindness with her after the New Year.”
Grateful for her sister’s timely intervention, Elizabeth could not help laughing at her reference to “Auld Lang Syne”. “Brilliant! I hope she enjoys tasting a bit of her own medicine.”
Jane giggled merrily. “As do I, but since she will not return with Bingley, I will have no opportunity to witness her reaction to my triumph.”
“Untrue! Your paths are bound to cross at some point. She cannot very well avoid you on your wedding day.” The air glimmered around Jane as she breathed a happy sigh. “I have never told you, Jane, but I can see a glow around you when you think of Bingley.” When pressed for more details, Elizabeth disclosed the part of her gift that she had never told another soul. Everyone in her family and most of her friends knew that she observed a murky grey mist to indicate deception, but now confident of the meaning of the luminous light, she finally shared it with her trusted sister. “Until I observed it at Netherfield, I had never seen it before, but it only appears when the person is in love.” Indeed, since she had become aware of her gift, none of her acquaintances had ever displayed the phenomenon—not Mr Collins or Charlotte Lucas, or even her own parents.
“Do you really suppose that’s what it means?”
“I suspected so when we stayed at Netherfield, but when I saw it around Darcy, I could not account for it. He would glow one minute and ignore me the next. When he left without declaring himself, I was certain that I had been mistaken,” she said, recalling that confusing time. “But it was on full display when he proposed.”
Jane gasped with delight. “That means he truly loves you, Lizzy.”
“Yes, but at what cost? Must I be forever indebted to him for improving my inferiority?” Despite having no fortune or connections, she could not commit herself to a man who did not respect her.
“Oh, Lizzy! Why must you be so stubborn? Did you not doubt that a man of his station would admire you? Why do you fault him for harbouring that same thought?” Jane said, shaking her head in disapproval.
Although Elizabeth could not disagree with Jane’s harsh truth, she refrained from responding when Mrs Bennet entered the parlour with Mary. “I hope your father will not keep Kitty and Lydia confined to their room much longer. I suspect they have learned their lesson in the past five days.”
Mary pulled her mending from her workbasket. “Perhaps, but Kitty’s ankle still pains her. Besides, I rather prefer the quiet.”
Elizabeth silently agreed that the absence of Kitty’s and Lydia’s incessant giggling had been a refreshing change at Longbourn. While she dearly loved her sisters, this reprieve from their silliness had not been altogether unwelcome. Unfortunately, Elizabeth had enjoyed no lack of questions from her relentless mother.
“Did Mr Darcy really object to my speculation about the two of you, Lizzy? As you know, I did not say anything untrue. Everyone at the ball saw him pay particular attention to you, and he favoured no one else with two dances.” Elizabeth had spared her mother from the insulting details of Darcy’s proposal, convinced that no good could come of sharing them. “He loves you, Lizzy, and ’tis unlikely that such a man will come your way again.”
Elizabeth rubbed her temples, exhausted by her mother’s constant references to Darcy. “Can we please discuss something else?”
Mrs Bennet clucked her tongue. “Your aunt Gardiner will be here in a sennight, and she will talk some sense into you. The Lord knows, I have tried and failed.”
Elizabeth groaned in protest. Mama talking sense? There’s a new twist. However, she had to admit that her mother had been correct about Darcy and Bingley; they had both declared themselves as she had predicted. If only she would stop mentioning the dreadful proposal.
“Refusing a man like that as if you cared nothing for your family. Who will take care of you when your father is gone?” she said, repeating the same question she had raised every day for the past five days. When Elizabeth swiped away an errant tear, her mother offered no comfort. “If you have a broken heart, you have no one to blame but yourself.”
No—Elizabeth blamed no one else for her decision, but had she been selfish to reject Darcy when she could have helped her family? Losing their home upon Mr Bennet’s demise was the source of her mother’s constant worry. With the exceptio
n of the Bennets, every other family in the community had sons to inherit their estates; none of those mistresses feared losing their homes or being reliant on the kindness of the male heir. Indeed, if Elizabeth were to face the same position with five daughters, she might easily develop a case of nerves herself.
Later, she contemplated her brief discussion with Jane, who had made an astute observation she had not yet considered; she had indeed doubted that Darcy had matrimonial designs on her, due to her lower standing. Yet, when he mentioned his own doubts on that same score, she had taken offence. Even though he should not have spoken of their different circumstances, the fact remained that her fortune was far less than his and her family’s unruly behaviour had often put her to the blush. Why had she expected him to ignore those issues as though they did not even exist? Should she not have discussed their differences rather than finding fault with him for speaking the unpleasant truth?
Of course, there was no use lamenting what she should have done at this point. Darcy had left the house immediately after her refusal, and with just cause. Why would he remain after receiving such an unreasonable set-down? No man could want a nonsensical, disagreeable wife.
However, a tiny voice in the back of her head continued to insist that she had been justified in her reaction to his address. Was it too much to expect a suitor to use his charm to woo the woman he claimed to love? Should he not at least have attempted to entice her with sweet endearments and promises of everlasting affection? Instead, Darcy had mentioned her inferiority and his degradation. No, nothing could have tempted her to accept that horrid proposal. Perhaps a woman desperate for a rich husband would have done so, but Elizabeth Bennet would never compromise her principles for a fortune.
Chapter 19
Tuesday night, after Georgiana and Bingley had retired, Darcy withdrew to the library with Richard. He did not mean to exclude his friend from this discussion, nor did he wish to embarrass himself any more than absolutely necessary. He and Richard intended to rehearse his next address to Elizabeth, and knowing Richard, this exercise was bound to be humiliating in the extreme.
A Certain Something Page 16