For a man of his wealth and station, Mr Darcy has never been too inclined to follow the fashion in costumes which dandies or blood used to wear in his days. Ever since his engagement, however, and to his manservant's amazement, Mr Darcy became quite conscientious of his looks, taking more than the necessary care in his toilet, thus unnerving his poor valet who would no longer know which clothes to hand his master to suit his mood, for he seemed to have become unsure of every garment that belonged to his own wardrobe; the simple endeavour of picking out a coat thus becoming a fearsome enterprise.
When in Miss Bennet's company, he had eyes only for his beloved and not a minute was spent in which these would not rest on her own, his gaze roaming her neck and basking in her décolletage. He sought her opinion on every possible subject and wished to know all her tastes and favourite pastimes, as if he meant to spend the rest of his life entertaining her. In pursue of such knowledge, Mr Darcy would lead his fiancée to the woods around Longbourn where they would spend the longest time in deep recognition of their surroundings, and in perusal of this, more often than not, they would lose total sense of time; time that would be most pleasantly spent not only in a verbal quest for deeper knowledge of one's fiancée but also a more, shall we say… physical exertion, in which more than a caress was bestowed with the promise of more intimate closeness in the near future.
Hence, Miss Darcy's perturbation completely escaped his cognizance.
However, the girl's agitation soon became noticeable enough. The idea of her brother's nuptials to Miss Bennet had always been very appealing, yet, now, on the eve of the wedding, Georgiana's emotions betrayed her. What will become of her? Will she have to witness her brother's happiness in silent contemplation? If Colonel Fitzwilliam did not love her, no one ever would. Men out there were merely interested in her dowry, not her. Wickham's shameful lies had been painful proof of it. She would not dare try again. If Colonel Fitzwilliam would not have her, she would remain an old spinster…
When Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived two days before the wedding, Georgiana made a mental note to talk to him once more. She wished she could banish Mrs Bingley, because she was absolutely certain that her cousin's resistance to falling for her stemmed from this lady's influence. They were lovers. Whether the rest of the family did not notice or merely had chosen to turn a blind eye on them she could not tell.
Looking at Mrs Bingley, she tried to comprehend whence her charms derived. She was a blond with blue eyes and a rather plump though very becoming figure. But then again, so was she! Mrs Bingley had a sweet disposition and pleasant conversation. Georgiana knew she was also considered a sweet girl and her accomplishments excelled by far her shyness around strangers. Mrs Bingley dressed rather simply, yet her exuberant bosom was always generously displayed in her low décolletage. Georgiana, in spite of Fitzwilliam's admonitions to abandon the turn of fashion, had not failed to imitate the allurements of Mrs Bingley's gowns.
Mrs Bingley was always trying to capture Fitzwilliam's attention. Even now, in front of her husband, she was behaving quite… fetchingly towards him, sending those coy looks, blushing at every syllable he uttered.
Insupportable.
And then there was Mr Bingley. Why did the man not do something about it! Could he not see? Why, they have it written bluntly all over their faces (what kind of man could be so distracted as not to notice this?). The entire situation reminded her of something that had occurred a few years ago. Again in her memory was the romantic encounter her brother had had with Miss Elizabeth in London upon her coming out party. That had been a scandalous affair and yet, to that day, no one dared say a word about it.
How hypocritical. All of them!
But then again, so was she, was she not? Had she not wholeheartedly approved of her brother's actions? Had she not rejoiced in the idea of her brother having a love affair with Miss Bennet? It had seemed so romantic!
Yet Colonel Fitzwilliam was a different story. The sole idea of his being with the alluring lady was a despicable notion to her enamoured heart. Still Richard obviously preferred Mrs Bingley to her. It was she who kept him sleepless at night.
Truth be told, Colonel Fitzwilliam was suffering the consequences of being the object of desire of two beautiful women, and he wished his cousin would stop her little game. At the same time he was concerned regarding his awkward situation with Mrs Bingley. Bingley's presence was disturbing and distracting to say the least, and the fact that they were all dwelling under the same roof was deterrent enough for amorous emotions to flow. Yet, scarcely had he entered the breakfast parlour, when the two blondes surrounded him, both of them seeking his attention, one clinging from each of his arms for a turn in the garden.
Mr Bingley did notice but he became not a bit unquiet.
"My, my. The charms of a uniform!" was his only comment.
But soon, both ladies were compelled to assume composure. Much as her lover was definitely irresistible, Jane restrained her emotions to avoid suspicions (no doubt Colonel Fitzwilliam himself had called her down). Georgiana, for her part, was called to composure by her stern brother.
Not long after the Colonel's arrival, Georgiana tried to find an instant to be left alone with her cousin. He had been behaving quite out of sorts ever since he had dismounted at Netherfield. Georgiana had been spying upon all his movements until she saw that he took his mount again and left towards the river that separated Longbourn from Netherfield.
On seeing him leave on horseback, Georgiana instantly called the groom and asked him for a horse. Before long she was following the Colonel's trace at a safe distance until she saw him standing with his broad back to her, leaning against a tree by the river. He was in the grove where many a time Colonel Fitzwilliam had spent the most pleasurable moments with Lizzy.
Whatever was he doing there?
Richard was beginning to feel restless, knowing that Darcy's wedding was only a few hours away, and that he would have to endure the impossible while he witnessed how his beloved Elizabeth was handed over to his cousin, for good.
He walked the footpath which so many times he had walked with her, his horse grazing behind, and his eyes immediately welled with unshed tears.
"My love. My sweet lady. May you be happy," he whispered while he gave way to unmanly sobbing. Then, while he stood with his back to Netherfield, a powerful convulsion shook his body with unrelenting crying. Never in his life had he had such feeling of loss. His eyes directed to Longbourn, his mind wherever Elizabeth might be in the house, he imagined her excitement over the wedding, her dedication while preparing her pristine dress to be worn at church, her flushed countenance at the moment of relinquishing herself to her husband's appetites, and he immediately recalled their night at Rosings. How would he bear it all?
Inhaling profoundly, he wiped his tears of frustration and turned round to go for his horse, muttering to himself, "I shall conquer this. I shall."
'Twas then that he realised he was being observed by Georgiana.
"Richard!" she whispered in distress. "Are you unwell?" Running to him, she kissed him on the cheek.
Colonel Fitzwilliam became really upset. He sincerely wished she would have left him alone with his grief.
"I am well, Georgie. You must not worry."
"But you are crying! I had no idea you cried."
"I don't as a general thing."
"But why? Have I upset you? Is it my doing? Oh Richard! I could not bear to hurt you."
"Georgiana. You have not hurt me. Please, girl. Let me be," he said not a little annoyed, unable to contain his emotions.
Georgiana looked at the view from where they stood. She saw Longbourn. What was there that had caused such wretchedness in her cousin?
Richard took a leave so brisk, a small sheaf of leaves scattered in his wake. He stalked towards his horse and mounted without a word. Then he looked back at Georgiana, catching her eye for a brief moment before he spurred his horse and was gone. Had he looked the opposite direction, he might ha
ve seen the gentleman standing just beyond the grove, and the expression on his face of profound disorder. One remarkably similar to the one he bore.
~•~
On seeing the Colonel was at a safe distance, George Wickham stepped forward, and clearing his throat to make his presence evident to Georgiana, he spoke thus,
"Miss Darcy" said his deep voice from the other side of the grove. "What a pleasant surprise to see you."
Georgiana's heart gave a jolt. She had not expected to see the gentleman there, or any gentleman for that matter. He did come out of the blue. Had he witnessed her kissing her cousin?
"It is a pleasure that is yours alone, sir," she said with a dismissive tone in her voice. "Pray, do not come any closer. I do not wish to see you, sir." She whirled around and began to walk in the opposite direction towards her horse.
"I am sorry to hear that," he said in a raised tone. "It seems those were not your sentiments towards the other gentleman."
Georgiana could not help the temptation to answer back. She turned around, and coming back in an infuriated manner, she said, "Have you been there watching us! Sir, you are no gentleman!"
"I was too overwhelmed by the scene in front of my eyes to dare interrupt it. Pray, tell me. Have you arrived at an understanding with the good colonel? Is he good enough for your brother's expectations for you? I imagine he is now. He has come into some money, I suppose," he said bitterly.
"And who are you to expect me to answer to such intimate questions? My life and my future have never been in your hands. It was my brother who rescued me from your greedy hands. For that I shall be grateful to him for life!"
For a person who had declared not wishing him to come any closer, she had come pretty close herself.
"Rescued you! If I do not recall wrong, you were quite reluctant to be 'rescued'."
"That was because I was too young and naive and had believed in your lies! You took advantage of me!"
"I have not done such thing! I never laid a finger on you!"
"You wanted my money!"
"I never wanted your money!"
"If that was not the case why did you not marry me when brother denied you my dowry? You certainly found the inducement of a dowerless bride quite undesirable!"
"Because I was too poor! What was I suppose to do? Take you to live in the slums?"
"You did not love me!"
"You are mistaken. I have never loved any other!"
Georgiana became a bit restless before such a formidable declaration and that state was evident in her hesitance. All of a sudden such a possibility dawned on her and the likeability of the honesty of his words warmed her heart and washed her soul. He had always loved her? "But you married someone else," she stammered.
"I know it is hard to believe, but it was all a mistake."
Her fury rose again. "A mistake! How can you say so? Do you think me irremediably stupid? You said you did not marry me because you had no money, and yet you all of a sudden found enough money to marry someone else! What was it? Sheer luck?"
"No. No luck. Quite the contrary, Miss Darcy. It was all your brother's doing."
"My brother's? What has he to do with all this?" She was shouting. Why was she so angry? Why did she keep so much bitterness in her soul for a man that had never really loved her and at any rate was no longer allowable.
"He had refused me a living and your dowry to marry you, yet he gave me those very same things to marry Lydia."
Georgiana gasped. She squinted and muttered between her teeth. "You… Is there no end to your lies? What will it be next?"
"If you do not believe me, ask your brother," he said defensively. "Better still, ask the Colonel. He helped him to persuade me into matrimony. Yes. Ask him. You seem to rely on that gentleman."
"But… but, why? Why is he doing this to me? To you?" Wickham cleared his throat. She was right. He comprehended it was high time she knew the whole truth. A bit nervous, he shifted in his place and began his confession,
"Your relatives were acting under the influence of what I have allowed them to believe of me with my shameful comportment in the past. You see, before I fell in love with you, I had been a rascal and an opportunist. I deserved to be refused your hand."
"I do not understand."
"I had led a life of dissolution in Cambridge, making a career of being devious, untruthful and irresponsible. I cannot blame your brother for believing me unscrupulous, too. He thought I was after you dowry, and persuaded you to think alike. But you must believe me when I say, Miss Darcy, I have always loved you, and my intentions had never been mercenary."
"But why did they force you to marry Miss Lydia?"
"Force me? They did not force me, I assure you. It was my decision. One I came to regret as soon as I took my wife into my house."
"If you were not forced… why… why did you marry her at all?"
"A sense of duty. Darcy was enamoured of Miss Elizabeth. A false report of Miss Lydia having eloped with me reached him at Pemberley and, in his prejudice, he thought I had taken advantage of her and came to her rescue. In fact, Lydia had followed me. You do not know Lydia. She is… she was… very persuasive and tenacious. I was… was attracted to her… she… I am not made of stone, Miss Darcy. I am merely a man. When your brother and cousin found her in my apartments they, of course, jumped to the conclusion that I had seduced her."
"I cannot believe this."
"Ask your cousin Fitzwilliam. He, of course, will tell you his own version. The version of my taking advantage of an innocent."
"Did you…"
"My wife was no innocent when… you must forgive my words, she climbed into my bed. I had not been her first lover, and certainly neither her last."
Georgiana turned her head a bit, her countenance coloured in embarrassment.
"Forgive me. I should not have disclosed this. You are a true lady and do not deserve to be enlightened on the wrongdoings of those who had not led a chaste life."
"Oh, no. I… I am… I am a bit confused I must confess, but at the same time… relieved. I had thought you…" she breathed deeply and closed her eyes. The tearing memory of her young fifteenth year, hopelessly enamoured of a man who had not only lied to her, but neither loved her. All the pain, the tears, the difficulty of those years came back. "I thought you the worst of rogues," she finally said. "When you walked out on me I was left heartbroken. I loved you so. To think that you have been merely toying with me was devastating! I suffered so much… I took me a long time to recover."
On hearing her confess her suffering, Wickham's pain doubled. He could hardly contain his sorrow. "I am so, so sorry," he said, the words coming almost inaudible which betrayed the painful moment he was undergoing. "It was my entire fault. I wish things would have been different."
"Yes. So do I."
There was an awkward pause. Neither knew what to say. Georgiana's heart had been decidedly touched. She had been wrong. All these years, thinking he had slighted her… and no. He had not. On the contrary, he still loved her. Her self-esteem had been so badly hurt for so long… and all for nothing.
"But there is nothing we can do about it now, is there?" she blurted out.
"No," he said timidly. "No, of course not."
She remained pensive for a while, and then spoke again, a torrent of words escaping her lips rapidly, as if she was not thinking what she was saying. "You are a married man, are you not?"
He raised his visage and eyed her, a bit disconcerted at her obvious rhetorical question. "I am."
She then turned around to go and walked a few steps towards the horse. Wickham looked devastated. He felt even worse now after delivering those last painful words. "I am married. Damnation, I am". On looking back from over her shoulder, however, she noticed his wretchedness. He was still nailed to the spot where he had been standing, his head bent in deep disconcertion, and her heart betrayed her resolution to abandon the dangerous arena. She came back and boldly touched his face with the back of her
small hand.
Wickham looked down at her incredulously. Their eyes, glistened in sorrowful longing and yearn, locked for what seemed to be an eternity. "This is wrong," she said.
"It is," he said, a pinch of desperation in the tone of his voice. Grabbing her hand he detached himself from her and begged her. "You must go. Go, go now."
"No. I did not mean this is wrong," she said while cupping his face with both her hands. "What I mean is that we should not have been subjected to other people's opinions and prejudices. You are right when you said that my brother was acting in my best interest, but look at how much pain he has inflicted on us both."
"I once blamed him, Miss Darcy. But not now. I reckon I would have acted very similarly had I been in his shoes."
"You are too forbearing."
"No. I am saying it in earnest. Indeed, Darcy has wronged me, I know. But I cannot blame him for acting like that. I deserved both the reputation and the sentence. But I am a new man. I dare not inflict pain on any other. So, please, madam. Leave me. Go home. I can barely restrain my heart from… Go now, before I do what I know I should not. I must not."
She looked into his blue eyes, as if trying to discern the real meaning of his words. Could she trust him?
"Enough," he said painfully. "Go, go, go now."
"When will I see you again?" she managed to gasp, her whole countenance flushed with every word she uttered.
"We cannot. Miss Darcy, we must not."
"Why not? I am no longer afraid of you."
"You were a few moments ago," he said with a thin smile on his lips.
"Indeed I was. But perhaps my mind was full of prejudices. Others' prejudices."
"Still, we cannot see each other. It will not do."
"Mr Wickham, we are merely old acquaintances, not to mention that you will soon be my brother, will you not? As such we can meet to have a turn in the grove or go for a ride, can we not?" she sent him a meaningful look.
Wickham smiled. Then he took her hand and before kissing it with great civility and respect, he whispered. "I will let you know."
Love Calls Again Page 49