“Thank you. I would rather not see him. He will take the bribe. I am certain of it. But then we shall be short an actor. It will not be possible to postpone this performance after so many invitations have been given.”
“Our aunt would never hear of it,” Colonel Fitzwilliam agreed.
“I fear that we shall have to make do with somebody who will be dependent upon Miss Lucas’s prompting. Another of the officers perhaps. Or one of her brothers. Get Wickham to make his excuse as soon as possible, and then somebody may be found with all haste and perhaps he will be able to memorize some of the lines. I do hate to spoil the performance for everybody else.”
“It need not be spoiled,” Elizabeth said, coming into the room at that moment. “I presume you are discussing ridding our play of Mr. Wickham.”
“Yes,” Mr. Darcy said. “I mean to pay him to make some excuse and stay away, but then somebody will have to act his part without any practice, which I do not like; however, the alternative is a great deal of distress for my sister, which I dislike even more. Do you think that I am being selfish in putting her above everybody who has worked so hard?”
“No, I think you are a caring brother. But I have a solution to your worries. My uncle Gardiner is also among the visitors expected, and he is a capable actor with a great ability for learning parts quickly. He could step into the role and perform it reasonably well.”
Both gentlemen looked at her with relief and gratitude.
“But we would be asking him to forgo the pleasure of watching,” Mr. Darcy said.
“He will not mind,” she assured him. “My uncle is very fond of acting. If anything, he will be delighted to be included.”
“Then this will work very well,” the colonel said. “I shall rid us of Wickham as quickly as he may be found, and then we can approach Mr. Gardiner with enough time to give him a fair warning and a bit of a rehearsal. We are much obliged to you for thinking of it.”
“I did not want Mr. Darcy’s sister to suffer, and I thought you might be wanting to dispense with Mr. Wickham, although I was not certain how that was to be done. My ideas were more Shakespearean, but paying him off is the most sensible solution, even though he does not deserve a penny.”
“I prefer it your way,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “I shall go and offer him the choice of a dagger or an asp.”
They all laughed at this, and then Elizabeth excused herself to let them talk of money.
“You did not mention that you had told her about Ramsgate,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said after she had gone. “When was this?”
“The first day that it was raining. She asked me about Wickham, so I told her the truth of it. I knew she could be trusted.”
“She can indeed. I have no qualms about that. And it turns out to be providential. We need not worry about Wickham’s replacement now. I trust her word as to her uncle’s acting as well. But this is the uncle from Gracechurch Street. I hope that you will not be offhand with him.”
“Certainly not. I am looking forward to knowing him. I swear that all my pride is at an end.”
CHAPTER 48
…he is thrice a villain…
As you like it, act i, scene i
The Matlocks arrived, and while they were undoubtedly proud people, they did not have Lady Catherine’s arrogance. Lady Matlock had noticeably better manners, and she spoke to Jane and Elizabeth without interrogating or criticizing them. She did not seem impressed by Miss Bingley’s homage either. Lord Matlock had a lofty manner, which Elizabeth could imagine had been inherited through generations of Fitzwilliams, but he was not patronizing like his sister. Their son, Viscount Ashbourne, was a youthful copy of his father, rather self-important, but not unfriendly.
Miss Darcy and her companion arrived soon afterwards, and Elizabeth was surprised to discover that she was a quiet, shy girl. Miss Bingley’s commendation had painted a different picture – one of a young lady who knew herself to be extremely accomplished and superior in all respects. But now Elizabeth saw an uncertain lady who was nervous in the company of strangers.
Mr. Darcy made the introductions, and he did so in a very warm voice, afterwards saying to his sister that he hoped she would like his friends as well as he did. This was apparently all the recommendation that she needed. She sat down with Jane and Elizabeth, and although her conversation was infrequent and consisted mainly of short, hesitant sentences, she looked as though she wanted to know them better.
Her companion spoke more and was a pleasant, friendly lady. Elizabeth thought Mrs. Annesley was a much better addition to the company than Mrs. Jenkinson who said almost nothing and mostly busied herself with screens and wraps for Miss de Bourgh.
Mr. Darcy was not talking to anybody, but he was looking on with a very happy smile, in which Elizabeth saw that his hopes and wishes had not changed. He wanted her to know and to like his sister, which was very easy to do. Georgiana Darcy was sweet, modest, and altogether likeable.
Miss Bingley was also looking on, but with a disgruntled expression, and eventually she interrupted the conversation to insist that her ‘dear Georgiana’ must come and sit with her so that they could exchange all their news since the last time they had met. The girl rose without looking very enthusiastic about this prospect, which gave Elizabeth to believe that those claims of great friendship had no substance behind them.
Miss Bingley was not to be satisfied, however. Her request drew Lady Catherine’s attention, and she directed her niece to sit with her daughter instead. Miss Bingley had to contend herself with intruding upon the pair, neither of whom appeared to be saying much to her.
This was the scene into which Colonel Fitzwilliam walked upon his return from Meryton. He greeted his family and asked Georgiana how she did in a jolly voice, to which she responded quite volubly. He had a few words with Mrs. Annesley, and then he sat down by Elizabeth and beckoned Mr. Darcy over.
“You will not believe what has happened,” he said quietly. “Mr. Wickham has eloped.”
“With whom?” Elizabeth asked, thinking with horror that her own sisters were probably capable of eloping, especially with a handsome officer. They had no money to tempt Mr. Wickham, but neither did anybody else in the neighbourhood, which made this elopement a puzzling thing.
The concern in Elizabeth’s voice caught the attention of Jane, who was sitting on her other side. “What is it, Lizzy?” she asked, and Mr. Bingley, who was sitting beside her, leaned closer, asking, “What has happened?”
“Mr. Wickham has eloped,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said again. “With a lady by the name of Miss King.”
“Miss King? To the best of my knowledge she has not a penny,” Elizabeth said.
“It must be a love match,” Jane said.
“I doubt it,” Mr. Darcy said.
“She has more than a penny now,” Colonel Fitzwilliam told them. “Apparently, she recently inherited ten thousand pounds.”
“That would be his reason for eloping with her,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Poor Miss King,” Jane said.
“Poor Miss King’s parents,” Mr. Bingley added.
“Perhaps she may yet be saved,” Mr. Darcy said. “Do you know if anybody has gone after them?” he asked his cousin.
“I understand that they have. We may hope that the lady will be rescued from her own foolishness.”
“But this means that we have no Borachio for our performance tomorrow night,” Mr. Bingley said.
“No, we do not,” Colonel Fitzwilliam agreed. “And without a penny wasted,” he whispered to Mr. Darcy.
“What is it that you are saying, Fitzwilliam?” Lady Catherine called out. “What is it you are talking of? Let me hear what it is.”
He looked at her with exasperation, and Mr. Darcy got up and walked over to his sister.
“We are short a performer for our play,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “It seems that we have no Borachio.”
“This is dreadful,” Miss Bingley cried. “Is Mr. Wickham ill?”
> Elizabeth saw Georgiana startle, but Mr. Darcy put a hand upon her shoulder.
“No, not ill.” Mr. Bingley said. “Apparently he has run away with Miss King.”
“I said that we should not have him in our play,” Miss Bingley complained.
“Are you saying that Mr. Wickham has eloped?” Lady Catherine asked. “My late brother’s godson?”
“Yes,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “with a lady who recently inherited ten thousand pounds.”
“How foolish of him,” Lady Catherine declared. “Ten thousand pounds is almost nothing.”
“In Mr. Wickham’s hands I expect it will soon be nothing,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.
“Never mind that,” Miss Bingley cried. “The play is the thing. What are we to do about his role? Who can play the part of Borachio?” She looked speculatively at the viscount, who hastily looked out of the window.
“I believe my uncle could act the part,” Elizabeth said.
“Your uncle acts, does he? I am very glad that you have somebody useful.” Lady Catherine said, perhaps out of sympathy for her eldest nephew, who was still affecting the appearance of having seen something very interesting in the distance.
“Which of your uncles?” Miss Bingley asked, with a narrowed looked which displayed her willingness to dislike either of them.
“My uncle Gardiner, who has very likely arrived at Longbourn now.”
“That is an excellent idea, Lizzy,” Jane said. “He will be able to learn the part quickly.”
“Are you certain he will be at Longbourn?” Miss Bingley asked. “I did not receive any reply to my invitation.”
“It must have been lost in the post,” Jane said, giving her former friend a sharp look. “Fortunately, my aunt wrote to tell me that they would definitely be here.”
“Then we are very fortunate indeed,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.
“Jane and I shall go directly to Longbourn and make the request,” Mr. Bingley said, settling the matter, although his sister looked sulky.
“All is well that ends well,” Elizabeth said. “I wonder, Miss Darcy, if you would care to take a walk in the garden? And perhaps you would like to join us for some exercise and fresh air, Miss de Bourgh.”
Miss de Bourgh did not care for exercise, which suited Elizabeth well enough. Georgiana declared herself happy to go outside, and they were joined by Mrs. Annesley and Mr. Darcy, who gave Elizabeth a smile of gratitude. Mr. Bingley requested his carriage, Jane went to fetch her cloak, and Lady Catherine declared to her brother that she was astonished to hear that a man who was as a good rider as Mr. Wickham would do such a dreadful thing as eloping.
CHAPTER 49
This above all: to thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false…
Hamlet, scene I, act iii
Jane and Mr. Bingley returned with the news that Mr. Gardiner was more than happy to act the role and had the intention of spending the evening memorizing his part.
“Then he will come here tomorrow morning to rehearse. We went to see Colonel Forster as well, and he and the other officers will also be here in the morning since most of Borachio’s scenes are with them,” Mr. Bingley said. “Mr. Collins is also coming since he is in the interrogation scene.”
That last sentence was said apologetically. Mr. Darcy could well imagine that Mr. Collins would be more of a hindrance than a help, but perhaps he might benefit slightly from one more rehearsal.
“Colonel Forster was very apologetic about one of his men having caused such trouble,” Mr. Bingley added.
“He should be,” Miss Bingley said.
“It is not his fault, Caroline. I do not blame him, which I said to him. Anyway, it looks as though everything has worked out very well.”
It has indeed, Mr. Darcy thought. Except for Miss King. It was foolish of her to act so rashly, but I hope she will not suffer from having made that choice.
His sister had been feeling much calmer after that walk in the garden, and she was at that moment conversing with Elizabeth, which delighted him.
After dinner that evening, when his uncle’s presence dictated that the gentlemen sat longer than usual, Mr. Darcy hoped that his two favourite ladies were continuing to develop a friendship. When they finally rose from the table, he and Lord Matlock were the last out of the room, and as they walked together, his uncle made an observation.
“Mr. Bingley’s betrothed is a pleasant girl, but with his fortune, he could have done a great deal better. A match as advantageous as your father’s might even have been within his grasp. I am surprised that you did not advise him against making such an unwise choice.”
“Actually, I did, which I now deeply regret. Fortunately, he was too sensible to listen to my foolish advice.”
“It was very sensible advice. There is no good reason to regret having given wise counsel. You would not choose to marry somebody so lacking in consequence.”
“Yes, I would. In fact, I want the same as Mr. Bingley. I wish to marry for love as well, and to achieve that I will happily disregard all else.”
“But this is nonsense, Darcy. You were brought up to know better.”
“I was brought up to think too well of myself. But now I know better. What is pride compared to friendship? What is consequence compared to love? They are nothing, and if I were to make the meaningless sort of marriage which you advise, I would be nothing.”
“A proper marriage is not meaningless.”
“It is in my eyes. A happy marriage is what I seek. A marriage of true minds.”
“I think you have been reading too much poetry. And spending too much time with some unsuitable companions. Come back to London with us, and you will soon throw off this dreadful influence.”
“I would sooner throw off my pride. And I have no desire to throw off the dearest friends I have ever had.”
“Family should come first. You must think of how your actions reflect upon us.”
“Family is important. I will grant you that. Even as we hold different opinions, I shall never be without affection for my relatives. But my choices must be my own, guided by the dictates of my heart and not by what others think best for me.”
“If you act according to these rash ideas, I fear that you will end up with great regrets.”
“I believe that I will end up with the greatest happiness. And I am confident of having no regrets.”
They went into the drawing room, where Mr. Darcy was disappointed not to see his sister with Elizabeth; however, she was speaking with Jane, which pleased him almost as much. The future Mrs. Bingley was just the sort of friend he wanted her to have. But where was Elizabeth? He wanted very much to sit with her himself, and he did not care if his intentions were obvious to his uncle or to anyone.
But Elizabeth was just behind him. Having briefly gone to her room, she had been on her way downstairs when she heard the gentlemen in the hall. Mr. Bingley had been speaking with Lord Ashbourne about the shooting at Netherfield. Mr. Hurst had been saying something to Colonel Fitzwilliam about their dinner. And then had come Mr. Darcy and his uncle, who thought that marrying for love was nonsense. Elizabeth had heard the man she loved declare that pride and consequence were nothing. She had heard him speak firmly in defense of his choice.
She went back into the drawing room, where Mr. Darcy had not taken a seat. He turned, and his face lit up with joy upon seeing her approach him with swift decisiveness. He guessed she had heard that conversation, and that his part in it had satisfied her perfectly. There was no more doubt, no uncertainty, no obstacles in their way. She went directly to him, and they sat down together, each of them knowing that all was going to end well.
CHAPTER 50
Give thy thoughts no tongue.
HAMLET, ACT I, SCENE III
Miss Bingley came downstairs the next morning in an exultant mood. Never had such illustrious guests slept under her roof. She was hostess to an earl and a countess, and the evening would b
ring her moment of glory. Everybody would congratulate her on a fine performance, and Mr. Darcy’s relatives would congratulate him on having such an elegant and accomplished friend.
If this did not bring him to his senses, then their inevitable advice would. It mattered not that he had spent the previous evening tête à tête with Elizabeth. Her circumstances would not pass his family’s scrutiny. Having heard from Mrs. Hurst that Lady Catherine had no great opinion of Elizabeth, Miss Bingley had high hopes of yet being able to announce her own engagement to Mr. Darcy.
The thing about announcements is that they require being able to make oneself heard. So does acting a role in a play.
When Miss Bingley said, “Good morning,” to her noble guests, only a croak came out. Her eyes flew open, and she clutched her throat.
Everybody stared at her. She looked back at them in dismay.
“My voice,” she said, but all they heard was a crackle.
“I shall summon Mr. Jones,” Mr. Bingley said. “But I very much doubt that you will be able to act this evening.”
She looked angrily at him and made some squawking sounds, which conveyed no meaning, but they supported his point.
“Our performance will have to be cancelled,” Mrs. Hurst said.
“Cancelled!” Lady Catherine cried. “After I came all this way to see my nephews act. This is unacceptable. The play must go on.”
“Unfortunately, my sister is vital to the performance,” Mrs. Hurst said. “There is no alternative but to cancel.”
“There must be another lady who can play her role,” Lady Catherine insisted.
“I believe there is,” Mr. Bingley said, looking at Elizabeth. “Do you suppose that you could do it?” he asked her. “You already know the part fairly well.”
Miss Bingley made another squawk, but nobody paid her any attention.
“I do not know it perfectly,” Elizabeth said.
“I think you could do it,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “I noticed that you are very quick at learning lines. And it should not be too difficult for somebody else to play Margaret.”
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