by Zoë Burton
“I am as well as can be expected, sir. I thank you for asking. Please accept my gratitude and additional thanks for helping my sister care for me while I was incapacitated. I would have been horrified to remain laid out in front of the entire population of Meryton in the manner I was.”
“Think nothing of it, I beg you. ‘Twas easily enough accomplished, and I would hope that if my sister were in such a situation, someone would have mercy on her in a similar manner.”
“You have a sister?” Elizabeth asked. “Do tell us about her.”
So began a visit that ended far earlier than any in the room would like. Conversation had flowed like a river between the four occupants of the room, never becoming awkward or boring. Darcy was left with a favorable impression of not only Miss Elizabeth, but also her father and eldest sister. The three Bennets were left with a desire to be in his company again, which was saying something for Mr. Bennet, as he was not a sociable man. An invitation to play chess the next day was extended and accepted, and Mr. Darcy left just minutes before the remainder of the Bennet ladies arrived home.
Chapter 3
Over the course of the next few weeks, Mr. Darcy made many visits to Longbourn. He learned that not only did Mr. Bennet play chess, his second daughter did as well. He found that he greatly enjoyed their company, as well as that of the eldest Miss Bennet. They were genteel, well-bred people with good conversation and, in the case of Miss Elizabeth and her father, in possession of a biting wit.
It had been quite a shock, therefore, when he was first exposed to Mrs. Bennet’s shrill voice and impertinent questions. He almost gave up the acquaintance when the three youngest daughters behaved more like their mother than their father. It was at this point, however, that he realized just how much he had come to admire Miss Elizabeth and enjoy her company. The thought of never seeing her again sent a pang through his heart and panic through his brain. He began to see that he had fallen in love with her. He determined to watch her more carefully in order to determine her feelings about him.
Elizabeth, unbeknownst to Darcy, thought equally as highly of him as he did of her. She greatly enjoyed the time spent with him and her father. Darcy was well-read and enjoyed debating. Indeed, he was skilled in the art. He was an excellent chess player. What she liked most of all, aside from his good looks and similar interests, was that Darcy treated her as an intelligent person. Too many times in her limited experience had men brushed her opinions aside simply because she was female. It was exciting to be treated with respect. Elizabeth began to wish, vainly she believed, that she might draw his interest as more than a friend. She began to see that she had fallen in love with him and desired his love in return.
It was a happy day when, six weeks after the Assembly and her injury, Mr. Darcy asked her father for a private audience with her. She looked to Jane, fear and excitement filling her eyes. Jane reached over to squeeze her hand, silently giving encouragement. The two were close confidants, and Jane was well aware of her sister’s feelings for this solemn young man as well as her fears that he would never choose her.
Almost before she knew it, Elizabeth was alone in the drawing-room with the object of her affection. She was half-afraid to look at him, but since her courage rose with every attempt to intimidate her, she bravely raised her eyes to his. Elizabeth could see from his stance that he was equally as nervous and that observation calmed her enough that she could smile at him in empathy.
“Would you like to sit, Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes, thank you, Miss Elizabeth.” The movement of sitting and the warmth in her eyes and smile gave him sufficient encouragement to go on. He opened his mouth and the words began to tumble out.
“I never imagined, as I picked you up off the floor that day, the day we met, that my life would be forever changed.” He flashed her a quick smile, continuing on, “But it has. I have come to know you and you to know me in a way I have not allowed with anyone else. You fascinate me. I am eager to hear the next words you say, and find myself often tucking ideas and events away in my mind in the hope that we will have time to discuss them, or debate them. Your beauty, inside and out, makes my heart race, and when I think of going home to Pemberley, I can no longer imagine it without you there. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much. What I am trying to ask, Miss Elizabeth, is will you spend the rest of your life making mine brighter? Will you marry me?”
Elizabeth was fairly trembling with happiness and excitement. She had hoped and dreamed of this day, with this man, but her rational mind had refused to believe it would ever happen. Now that it was here, she had difficulty remaining quiet until he finished. Finally, he was done.
“Yes, oh, yes! I will marry you, Mr. Darcy. I love you, as well.”
The expression of delight on Darcy’s face matched her own. Instantly he rose, reaching for her hand and pulling her up when she gave it. He kissed first her hands and then, pulling her closer and after tenderly wrapping his arms around her, her lips. Just the softest, gentlest brush of his, but it was enough to thrill her and induce her to respond. When he did it again and again, she learned how to mimic and match his movements. Finally, hearts pounding, they pulled away from each other. With a final kiss to her forehead, he said, “Thank you, my love, for your acceptance of my hand and your kisses. Let us find your parents and announce our news.”
Leaving the room was unnecessary, though, for he had no more than stopped speaking when the drawing-room door opened and the entire Bennet family entered, having listened at the door.
“Well,” Mr. Bennet began, “I have managed to keep my wife and youngest daughters under control for the past few minutes, Mr. Darcy. What have you to say?”
“I am pleased to tell you, sir, that I have asked for Miss Elizabeth’s hand, and she has consented. With your permission, we are to be married.”
“Of course, he gives his permission!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “Why would he not? Oh my darling Lizzy, what jewels you shall have!”
Rolling his eyes at his wife’s effusions, Mr. Bennet replied, “You do indeed have my permission, Mr. Darcy. I have for many weeks now considered you a perfect match for my Lizzy, and I could see that she favored you. Welcome to the family, Son.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Mrs. Bennet chose this moment to intrude upon their conversation. “Mr. Bennet, I am sure you and Mr. Darcy have important matters to discuss. Why do you not take him to your book room and leave us ladies,” she gestured to her daughters, all gathered in a group loudly congratulating Elizabeth and pleading for visits to town during the season, “to discuss wedding details.”
Mr. Bennet agreed with her plan with alacrity, and within minutes, the two men were deep in discussion over wedding dates and marriage articles.
Ultimately, the couple decided on a date one month hence. Mrs. Bennet moaned and complained, declaring she could not possibly plan a wedding for a date that close, but neither Elizabeth nor Mr. Darcy would be moved. Her husband was no help, either. He simply stated he was not the one getting married, and that those who were would make their own choice without regard to him and any opinions he might have.
“But, Mr. Bennet, surely you cannot expect me to plan a grand celebration in only four weeks! Mr. Darcy’s status deserves far better than any paltry affair I could arrange in that small amount of time.”
Wearily, Mr. Bennet responded, “I am sorry, my dear, but the couple themselves chose the date. It is their wedding, after all.”
“But-“
“No, Mrs. Bennet,” he cut her off before she could continue to berate him about it. “I am not the one getting married, and neither are you. Lizzy and Darcy have made their choice, and you will have to live with it. I cannot force them to change it, nor will I attempt to.” Seeing that she was not ready to give up the fight, he tried something else. “Come now, Mrs. Bennet, with your skills at entertaining, I am certain you will plan the most elegant wedding breakfast ever seen in Meryton. Lady Lucas can have no
thing on you in that area.”
Appealing to her vanity was always successful when her husband tried to convince Mrs. Bennet to give up an idea. This time was no different. In the end, she gave in, determined to do the best she could in the few weeks she was given.
For Darcy and Elizabeth, their engagement period had a few ups and many downs. The morning after their announcement, he sent an express to his solicitor outlining the settlement he wanted for Elizabeth. One week later, he was required to go to London to meet with the man and check on his work. He waited in London for a se’ennight, completing other business and choosing a ring for Elizabeth from the Darcy jewels, before heading back to Meryton to bring copies of the papers to Longbourn for Mr. Bennet to sign. He missed Elizabeth deeply. He carried a token, a lock of her hair, but it was not the same as being in her ever more intoxicating presence.
For Elizabeth, the separation was equally wrenching, and it was made more so by the entrance into Meryton society of both her father’s cousin and heir apparent, and one Lieutenant George Wickham.
Chapter 4
Elizabeth and her sisters met the officer one day soon after Darcy had left for London. They had walked into Meryton as a group, accompanied by their cousin, Mr. Collins, who was visiting in an attempt to “heal the breach” that had existed between his late father and Mr. Bennet.
Mr. Collins was a large, heavy man. He was at the same time obsequious and condescending, lavishing praise on those around him on the one hand while proclaiming his superiority on the other. These conflicting mannerisms rendered him ridiculous to those inclined to see such things.
One of his goals for the trip, and his desired way of making amends for being the heir, was to offer marriage for one of his cousins. His first choice was the eldest Miss Bennet, but he was assured that she was expecting an offer any day from their neighbor and frequent visitor, Mr. Bingley. He then set his sights on Miss Elizabeth, the second oldest. With no evidence of a suitor, he was positive he would be welcomed. His disappointment was acute upon learning that she was already engaged. When he pointed out that he had not seen anyone calling on her, he was informed in what he considered a rather forceful manner that her betrothed was currently in London, arranging her settlement. He was not to consider her as the companion of his future life.
“But Mrs. Bennet, surely you wish your daughter to have a secure future. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, you know.” Collins followed Mrs. Bennet around the drawing room. This was the third time he had used this argument, and his hostess was losing her patience.
“Mr. Collins. I have said to you repeatedly that Elizabeth is unavailable to you. She is betrothed to a man who has several thousand a year. Your paltry parsonage is nothing to his great estate. You may not, under any circumstances, ask my second daughter to marry you.”
Drawing himself up, Mr. Collins drew on the last resource he felt he had left. “Then I shall speak to your husband, who will surely see the value of my offer over this imaginary gentleman you speak of.” He turned on his heel and left the room, Mrs. Bennet’s imprecations ringing in his ears.
He gained no satisfaction from his conference with Mr. Bennet.
“But Cousin, surely you do not mean to reject me!” exclaimed Collins for the tenth time since he entered the room mere minutes ago.
Mr. Bennet sighed, closing the book in his hands and laying it on the desk. He removed his spectacles, placing them on top of the book before folding his hands over the lot and raising his eyes to his absurd cousin.
“Sir, I will repeat this one time more, and it will be the last time. Elizabeth is engaged. Just because you have not seen her betrothed does not mean he does not exist. You will choose one of my three younger daughters or someone from the neighborhood. I care not which. I am finished with this conversation, Mr. Collins. You may take your ludicrous manners to another room of the house. Would that anyone else were my heir!” When Collins did not heed his words and leave the room, Mr. Bennet stood, pointed his finger to the door, and loudly proclaimed, “Out!”
Mr. Collins left the room in a hurry and with a dilemma. He was left with three options for a wife, none of which were terribly appealing. He decided to take more time to observe, not just his youngest cousins, but the other ladies in the area.
Later this particular day, Mr. Collins accompanied his fair cousins on a walk into Meryton. As they approached the home of Mrs. Bennet’s sister, Mrs. Philips, Cousin Lydia engaged an officer and another gentleman in conversation. When introduced, the party learned the other gentleman’s name was George Wickham and that he was there with the intent of purchasing a lieutenancy in the militia stationed just outside of town.
Mr. Wickham had the kind of dark good looks that drew the eyes of many young women. He was tall, with brown eyes and dark hair that was just long enough to touch his collar. His smile brightened his entire face, making him even more attractive. Lydia Bennet, Elizabeth’s youngest sister, was not immune to appealing young men. Mr. Collins observed her flirtatious behavior and struck her off his list of potential wives. He required a spouse who was demure and would remain faithful to him. It was plain to him that she was neither of those things.
Elizabeth, always happy to meet new people, was at first charmed by Mr. Wickham. Within a few minutes, though, she began to be uncomfortable with him. She could not say what it was, but there was a quality to his interactions that gave her pause. His behavior was everything correct, but there was an undefinable air about him that bespoke danger; a look in his eye that was not so very proper. She resolved to avoid him as much as possible and to warn her sisters to do the same. I shall tell Papa, as well, she thought, and urge him to restrict their contact with the man. Perhaps I might also accompany them to Meryton from now on. Elizabeth felt she must do all she could to protect them. They may choose not to listen, but at least she will have done her duty by them.
Mr. Wickham, on the other hand, was quite intrigued by the vivacious Miss Elizabeth Bennet. When she wasn’t looking, he raked his eyes salaciously down her form. With curves in all the right places, she was exactly the type of woman he preferred. His time here was sure to be enjoyable with such delicious-looking ladies in the town.
His first opportunity to ingratiate himself with her came two days later, at a dinner party held at the home of Sir William Lucas. Seeing Miss Elizabeth sitting alone, Wickham made his way to her.
“Miss Elizabeth, how delightful to see you here.”
“Mr. Wickham,” she replied with a nod, hoping he would take the hint that he was not welcome and move on. Her hopes were dashed, however, when he simply sat in the chair beside hers and settled in.
“I was hoping to see you this evening. You impressed me the other day as a woman of great intelligence and wit, and I hope we shall be great friends.”
Not if I can help it, Elizabeth thought. Out loud she replied, “I thank you for your compliments, sir, though I cannot imagine your reasoning behind choosing me, of all the ladies in this town, to befriend. Surely I was not the only one you have met since arriving.”
While she was speaking, her youngest sisters, Lydia and Kitty, arrived at her side. Remembering this new officer to their small town and how nice he seemed when she had met him before, Lydia immediately injected herself into the conversation. “La, Lizzy must be careful now about whom she befriends. Her betrothed might not like her making friends with such a good-looking man. Lizzy, what would Mr. Darcy say about it? Would he approve?”
Wickham went immediately on alert, but forced himself to respond casually, “Mr. Darcy, you say? Where is he from?”
“He is from Derbyshire, sir.”
“Ah, interesting. Have you known him long?”
“Long enough that when he asked, I agreed to marry him.”
Sensing Miss Elizabeth felt his question impertinent, he retreated a bit, apologizing for his lapse in manners. When he felt she was once again relaxed enough, he began to weave his story for her. It was one he had told oft
en, for various reasons. Usually he told it to garner sympathy for himself or to discredit his childhood friend, for that’s what Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire was—a childhood friend.
The two boys had grown up together at Pemberley. George was the son of the steward and Fitzwilliam was the heir. They were months apart in age, with Fitzwilliam being the older, and both had lost their mothers in their thirteenth year. Both received the same education, for the elder Mr. Darcy paid for George, who was his godson, to attend school as a way to reward his steward for his faithful service. It was not until that first year at Eton that George began to see a difference between himself and his friend.
George’s mother, when she was alive, had been a spendthrift, and her son inherited that tendency. Living on Pemberley as he had, with free access to the kitchens and pretty much anything he wanted, his style of living was not that different than had he been Darcy’s son instead of Wickham’s. However, at Eton he was made painfully aware that he was nothing more than the offspring of the steward. He no longer had access to whatever he desired, and his charm, which had worked so well at Pemberley, no longer was as effective. It was pointed out by all and sundry that he was a servant, albeit a blessed one.
Fitzwilliam had done his best to shield him from the abuse he suffered as a result of his origins and to force his acceptance, but it was never enough. As the years of their schooling passed, the two grew apart, Wickham doing whatever was required to be accepted, ultimately becoming heavily involved in gambling, drinking, and consorting with the maids. Darcy, whose acceptance was guaranteed, withdrew more and more into himself and away from the pranks and carousing of his peers. By the time they entered Cambridge, their only connection was a tenuous one through Darcy’s father. Darcy stoically cleaned up Wickham’s messes during their university years, in order to preserve his family’s good name and his father’s fondness for his godson.