The Truth
About Mr. Darcy
Chapter One
Elizabeth had never been so happy to leave a place in her entire life. Surely she would always remember with fondness the rewarding occupation of nursing her dearest Jane back to health. Bingley, of course, had been nothing but his gracious, amiable, and generous self. He was an excellent host, forever solicitous of both her welfare and that of her sister. His sisters, however, had been everything that was ungracious and condescending, and the proud and haughty Mr. Darcy, in her opinion, had been little better.
It had not escaped Elizabeth’s notice that the man seemed to materialize everywhere she had happened to venture during the few moments she was able to leave Jane for any length of time. She had met him quite by accident in the library on countless occasions— and also in the conservatory, in the music room, in the morning room, in the garden, and on the grounds. If Elizabeth had not known better, she would have sworn he was deliberately throwing himself in her way, but she did know better. Whenever they were in company together, Darcy was usually cool and aloof, yet he chose to stare at her constantly and with a level of intensity that had begun to make her uncomfortable. Surely such a handsome, wealthy, and intelligent man, who was used to nothing but the very finest society, could not deign to look upon a woman of her inferior station and circumstances in life unless it was to find fault, and indeed, she knew he had found fault with her, almost from the very first moment of their acquaintance at the assembly in Meryton some weeks ago.
Elizabeth laughed as she recalled his disdainful comment. “She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me.” Yet, while she was at Netherfield, Darcy had paid her no insignificant degree of attention, even going so far as to engage her in several heated intellectual and philosophical debates while in company with the rest of their party, none of whom he had included in their almost-private verbal sparring. To Elizabeth’s amusement, such pointed notice of her often resulted in Miss Bingley becoming angered, and Elizabeth had found herself banished to the far end of the table during family dinners, with only the inebriated Mr. Hurst for companionship, while Miss Bingley fawned over Darcy and tried to monopolize his notice. Yet, even at these times, Darcy’s dark, penetrating eyes continued to seek her out. Whatever could it mean?
Charlotte Lucas had often told Elizabeth she believed Darcy admired her a great deal, but Elizabeth could not agree with such a notion. Her usual reply was to laugh it off and tell her, “That is simply not possible, Charlotte, for I know he dislikes me as much as I do him,” before steering the conversation to some other topic.
After a while, Charlotte no longer commented on such observations, but she did raise a speculative brow and cast a knowing look at Elizabeth each time she caught Darcy observing her friend, which was almost continuously whenever they were thrown into company together. Elizabeth found this occurred quite often.
The two gentlemen from Netherfield had just entered Meryton on their way to Longbourn when they chanced to notice the very ladies whom they were, indeed, intending to call upon, standing on the opposite side of the street. With great eagerness, Bingley urged his mount toward the object of his affection, Miss Jane Bennet, while Darcy remained several paces behind, struggling against the turmoil incited in his breast by the pleasing form and fine eyes of Jane’s sister Elizabeth.
It had been happening for many weeks now and, no matter how many times Darcy reminded himself of the unsuitability of her situation and the lowness of her connections, the lively intelligence, clever wit, and graceful yet unassuming manners of the lady never failed to impress upon him the very great danger he faced in spite of his disapprobation. He had tried every method within his power to rid himself of his overwhelming—and rather disconcerting—feelings for her, but the bewitching Elizabeth Bennet would not grant him reprieve. When Darcy was awake, she invaded his thoughts constantly, and in the late hours of the night, she ruled his subconscious, leading him to forbidden imaginings of passionate splendor. Darcy reined in his horse, his eyes fixed firmly upon Elizabeth.
She was engaged in conversation with an unidentified gentleman who appeared to be paying her rapt attention. After a few moments, their conversation waned, and in the next instant, she looked up to see Darcy staring at her. She acknowledged him with a small, polite inclination of her head, which caused the gentleman she had been talking with to turn.
Immediately, Darcy felt the color drain from his face as his mind reeled with painful recollections of Ramsgate and his sister, Georgiana… and Wickham! Good God! What the devil is George Wickham doing here? Anger spread like wildfire through his entire body, leaving him fighting to master his emotions. It was not a feat easily accomplished in the midst of Meryton. He was seething as Wickham touched his fingertips to the brim of his hat, his mouth curling into a smirk as he acknowledged Darcy’s glare. Darcy forced himself to look away toward Bingley, who was shrouded in happy oblivion as he smiled down from his horse at Jane Bennet. He had clearly missed the exchange between the two men.
This was not the case with Elizabeth, who had been appraising their interaction with some degree of concern on her face. Her gaze darted from Darcy to Wickham and back again. Without meaning to, Darcy’s gaze came to rest upon her just as a particularly severe look of displeasure spread over his handsome features. Elizabeth started at this, and Darcy, instantly regretting it, softened his expression, perhaps more so than he would have wished, providing Wickham with a private bit of information—information Darcy would never have wanted him to have at his disposal. Turning from Darcy with a sneer, Wickham focused all his charm on Elizabeth and proceeded to engage her, once again, in conversation.
Darcy’s blood grew cold. The idea of George Wickham gaining Elizabeth’s good opinion was more than he could stomach, but what could he do about it? Nothing! Absolutely nothing without laying his personal business open for all the world to scorn. He could not bear to put Georgiana through such humiliation and censure. But what of countless other young ladies? What of their honor? What of their respectability? And what of his Elizabeth? Darcy suddenly felt all the frustration of his position anew as a familiar ache in his breast reminded him she was not rightfully his to protect. Lydia Bennet’s wild laughter echoed through the street. Wickham’s easy manners and handsome countenance had most likely already recommended him to Elizabeth’s youngest sisters.
Darcy watched with resentment and alarm as Wickham conversed easily with Elizabeth. After several agonizing moments, her eyes turned up to meet his own tortured ones, and in their depths, Darcy could easily discern surprise, confusion, and curiosity. Surely, the witty and intelligent Elizabeth Bennet would not be taken in by the likes of George Wickham!
But what if he was in error? Wickham was charismatic and dangerous. Yes, she had no fortune to tempt him, but knowing Wickham as intimately as he did, would her relative poverty be enough to ensure her safety? She was certainly one of the handsomest women of Darcy’s acquaintance, and she had a multitude of charms to recommend her to any man. Darcy was agonizingly aware of each of them. Another alarming thought occurred to him then—should Wickham happen to succeed in imposing upon Elizabeth, what slanderous falsehoods might he fill her head with about him?
Darcy’s relationship with Elizabeth had always held an underlying level of anxiety. Even now, after nearly six weeks of being acquainted, including living under the same roof at Netherfield while she nursed her sister, it seemed tenuous at best, but any lies Wickham might now see fit to tell her could very easily cause irreparable harm to his suit. But why? he demanded in exasperation. Why should that be of tantamount concern? As deep a desire as I feel for her, could I ever sanction myself to act upon those feelings? Could I ever truly allow myself to form any real design on her?
He fought to repress the attraction he had felt toward her since the very first moments of their acquaintance. It had been a constant struggle, one he knew he was losing. Bloody hell! It was simply no use! Even the merest possibility of Elizabeth Bennet thinking the worst of him—and at Wickham’s hands—made Darcy’s present agitation all the greater. He could not leave his desire for her esteem to chance, and with an impulsiveness few who knew him in Hertfordshire would recognize, he leapt from his horse.
This action finally succeeded in rousing Bingley from his unabashed admiration of Jane, and he followed Darcy’s lead with enthusiasm. Blissfully unaware of the hostility radiating from his friend, Bingley greeted the assembled group, then turned his attention back to Jane. “It is a pleasure to see you this morning, Miss Bennet, and all your sisters! We were just on our way to Longbourn to call upon you when we happened to see you here. It is certainly an exceptionally fine day, is it not?”
Jane blushed becomingly before replying that, indeed, it was.
Denny, one of the officers under Colonel Forster’s command, stepped forward then to introduce Wickham to Bingley’s acquaintance, informing him that his friend was to take a lieutenant’s commission with their regiment, now quartered in Meryton.
Bingley received him with his usual unaffected good humor and, though he gazed at Jane every few seconds, somehow managed to maintain an intelligent discourse with the gentlemen.
Darcy silently noted Elizabeth’s continued observation of his thinly veiled hostility toward Wickham. He knew he must speak, or she would certainly think the worst of him for such animosity. With nothing short of a supreme effort of will, he forced himself to assume a semblance of composure and inquire after the health of her parents.
She met him with civility as she replied, “They are both in excellent health, I thank you,” and fell into silence.
“Um, do you often walk into Meryton, Miss Bennet?” he asked, failing to suppress a scowl at his adversary who, at that moment, dared to be smiling at his Elizabeth while attempting to speak convincingly with Bingley.
“Why, yes, Mr. Darcy. It is a pleasant enough walk, and as you can see, there are always an abundance of acquaintances to be met with.” Here, she glanced boldly at Wickham. Darcy wrestled most fervently to hide his displeasure. Elizabeth continued calmly,
“What think you of the village, Mr. Darcy?”
“Charming,” he muttered, his answer perfunctory.
“And have you had an opportunity to acquaint yourself with the various establishments, sir?”
“What? No, not well. I have been too much engaged since my arrival to have had that privilege.”
Though Wickham’s eyes appeared to be focused most diligently on the rest of their party, Darcy knew with certainty Wickham was paying very close attention to his conversation with Elizabeth.
The master of Pemberley desperately wished to say something—anything—that would communicate an appropriate warning to her in some small way, but he knew it to be impossible under the circumstances. His frustration was extreme. Relief, however, came from a most welcome quarter.
“As it so happens, Mr. Darcy, there is a particular item I was hoping to procure this morning in one of the shops, just there, at the end of the street. If you feel you can bear my company, sir, I would be quite willing to assist you in familiarizing yourself with all the attractions Meryton holds.”
Though Elizabeth’s offer took Darcy by surprise, the benefit of such a proposal registered immediately. He tore his gaze from Wickham’s profile long enough to offer her his arm, which she took after a slight hesitation. “Thank you, Miss Bennet,” he said sedately, “I am most obliged to you.”
He led her away from the group at a restrained pace, and Elizabeth nonchalantly pointed out various aspects of the town and certain shops.
Darcy offered distracted responses, contemplating how best to address her on the unsavory subject of Wickham. After walking far enough to avoid being overheard, Elizabeth startled him once again by inquiring, in a somewhat direct manner, how long he had been acquainted with Mr. Wickham.
Darcy overlooked her boldness and stated, “I have known him practically my entire life, Miss Bennet. His father was my father’s steward, and a very respectable man. We played together as boys, grew up together on my father’s estate, and, at one time, even looked upon each other almost as brothers.” He paused to observe her startled reaction before blurting out, in spite of his better judgment, “You seem to take an eager interest in that gentleman’s relationship with me, Miss Bennet. Why is that? Is it merely curiosity on your part, or something more?”
“Why, Mr. Darcy, I was concerned only for the gravity of your countenance. It appeared to me even more serious than usual, and I merely thought you could use a diversion. Seeing as you do so enjoy staring out of windows whenever something greatly displeases you, I thought, perhaps, you might appreciate the opportunity to stare into them instead.”
Darcy, who under normal circumstances and with any other lady would have deemed such impertinence offensive, found it, instead—and when coming from this particular lady—to be nothing short of enchanting. Oh, how he dearly loved it when she took it upon herself to tease him! The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as he said, “Yes, well, I thank you for your concern, Miss Bennet.”
He then cleared his throat and continued, “After the passing of Mr. Wickham’s father, my own excellent father supported him at Cambridge with the intention the church would be his profession, and a valuable family living would be his once it were to fall vacant. After my father’s passing, which was but five years ago, Mr. Wickham professed a desire to study the law. Knowing by that time his habits deemed him quite ill-suited for the life of a clergyman, I rather hoped than believed him to be sincere. He requested and was granted the sum of three thousand pounds in lieu of the living…”
If Elizabeth had not known exactly what to expect, Darcy surmised from her shocked expression it certainly was not this. Steadily and with no small degree of increasing agitation, he continued to give her a detailed account of Mr. Wickham’s rather lengthy history of disreputable behavior.
When he came to the events of the previous summer at Ramsgate, however, the pain was still too fresh, and Darcy found his pride would not allow him to utter the name of his beloved sister. Instead, he revealed only the attempted seduction and elopement of an estimable young lady of his acquaintance. At last, he had done.
Elizabeth’s gaze remained on Darcy’s face. She was sickened to think she, who had always prided herself on her abilities of discernment, had been so ready to tease and insult the taciturn man before her—a man whom she had known for many weeks now—in favor of a complete stranger whom she had only just met and was, even now, for the most part, still unknown to her. Wickham’s easy countenance and pleasing manners had, in the mere quarter of an hour she had spoken with him, managed to make quite a favorable impression upon her, but what a mistaken impression she had apparently formed! Elizabeth blushed with mortification. That it should have taken place in the presence of Darcy made her agitation all the more extreme. For some reason she could not quite explain or even fathom, Elizabeth could not abide Darcy thinking any less of her than he already did for having erred so greatly in her judgment of such a man as Mr. Wickham.
Elizabeth’s anxiety was apparent, and Darcy felt all the responsibility of it as he stopped and, in a low voice full of heartfelt concern, said to her, “Miss Bennet, I am sorry, exceedingly sorry if what I have just related has caused you such distress. Please believe me, my purpose in doing so was solely to warn you and your sisters of the very great danger to yourselves from Mr. Wickham’s society. It was not my intention to be malicious or to cause you pain, and I must beg your understanding and hope you will forgive me for having upset you.”
Elizabeth looked away. “No, sir, I am perfectly well, and indeed, you are mistaken. There is nothing to forgive, but I find
I must now confess to you how unprepared I was to hear such an infamous account of the same amiable gentleman with whom I have only just become acquainted. I find it almost beyond me to credit such dreadful accusations and such duplicitous behavior, yet, given what I have come to know of your character, and given it is also your intimate history with Mr. Wickham, I fear I must believe you and allow it is true.”
Darcy uttered an audible sigh of relief and ran the back of his hand across his mouth. “Yes,” he said quietly, “it pains me to insist it is true in every particular. Please believe my sincerity, Miss Bennet, when I say there is no one who wishes more than I that Mr. Wickham’s gentlemanly appearance would ever be more than just an appearance.”
By the time Darcy and Elizabeth returned to the rest of their party, Wickham and Denny had since taken their leave. Elizabeth went to Jane and requested they all return home without delay.
Jane readily agreed.
Bingley, who proclaimed he was not entirely prepared to part with the ladies so soon, begged leave to accompany them back to Longbourn—a proposal that was met with happy acceptance from Jane. Feeling the danger of spending more time than he ought in the disconcerting company of Elizabeth Bennet for one morning, Darcy declined to join them, saying he had some pressing correspondence he had long put off but now found required his immediate attention.
* * *
That evening, in the privacy of their room, Elizabeth disclosed to Jane the particulars of her conversation with Darcy. Never wanting to think ill of anyone, Jane insisted Wickham could not possibly be so very bad as Darcy’s account of him made him seem.
“But, Lizzy, are you certain, absolutely certain, he has such designs at this time? Perhaps he has come to regret his past actions and is anxious to reestablish his character in the eyes of the world. He seems to possess such an expression of goodness in his addresses.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, Jane. I would well wish to think as you do, but I cannot help but believe it unlikely. ThoughMr. Darcy’s countenance bespoke the most vehement dislike of Mr. Wickham, you did not notice the way Mr. Wickham looked at Mr. Darcy. His expression was one of such derision and insolence. No, I cannot so easily acquit him of the crimes Mr. Darcy has laid at his door. I feel most inclined to believe he is not a man to be trusted.”
“By this account, then, Lizzy, he appears to feel as passionately for Mr. Darcy as Mr. Darcy does for him. Something very bad, perhaps even worse than what Mr. Darcy has related to you with regard to their association, must surely have occurred to promote such strong feelings of aversion.”
“I confess I am of your opinion on this matter. Mr. Darcy was most disturbed, Jane. Even as he was speaking privately to me of Mr. Wickham, he remained visibly so. It is most out of character for him to reveal such emotions on any matter, and given this, I cannot help but wonder whether he may yet be keeping something further to himself.”
Jane was thoughtful for a long moment before saying quietly, “Lizzy, I do believe Mr. Darcy must be in love with you.”
Elizabeth stared at her and laughed. “Jane! Whatever makes you think such a thing? Surely Mr. Darcy feels nothing for me. You remember his comment at the assembly, do you not?”
“Indeed, it was very wrong of him to say such a thing at all, never mind in company, but, Lizzy, does it not strike you as incredible that a man of Mr. Darcy’s notoriety—such a proud, private man of much significance in the world—would speak with you so willingly and openly about his dealings with such a man as Mr. Wickham? I can hardly credit it. No, it could only be a compliment to you, my dearest sister.”
“Really, Jane, this is too absurd!” She laughed again. “You know just as well as I do, Mr. Darcy holds me in contempt for my decided opinions and my impertinent manner. He would never deign to pay his addresses to me, an unknown country miss with nothing more than fifty pounds and my charms to recommend me, not when he could have a fashionable woman with fifty thousand and a title.”
Jane smiled. “I beg to differ.”
Elizabeth made to protest, but Jane silenced her. “You forget, Lizzy, I, as well as Charlotte, have noticed the attention Mr. Darcy pays you, even if it is nothing more than staring at you from across the room. It cannot have escaped your keen observation that you are, indeed, the only lady he stares at.” Jane shook her head. “No, there is no other explanation for it. Mr. Darcy must be in love with you.” The discussion was continued in earnest, and half the night was spent in conversation.
It had not escaped Elizabeth’s notice that the man seemed to materialize everywhere she had happened to venture during the few moments she was able to leave Jane for any length of time. She had met him quite by accident in the library on countless occasions— and also in the conservatory, in the music room, in the morning room, in the garden, and on the grounds. If Elizabeth had not known better, she would have sworn he was deliberately throwing himself in her way, but she did know better. Whenever they were in company together, Darcy was usually cool and aloof, yet he chose to stare at her constantly and with a level of intensity that had begun to make her uncomfortable. Surely such a handsome, wealthy, and intelligent man, who was used to nothing but the very finest society, could not deign to look upon a woman of her inferior station and circumstances in life unless it was to find fault, and indeed, she knew he had found fault with her, almost from the very first moment of their acquaintance at the assembly in Meryton some weeks ago.
Elizabeth laughed as she recalled his disdainful comment. “She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me.” Yet, while she was at Netherfield, Darcy had paid her no insignificant degree of attention, even going so far as to engage her in several heated intellectual and philosophical debates while in company with the rest of their party, none of whom he had included in their almost-private verbal sparring. To Elizabeth’s amusement, such pointed notice of her often resulted in Miss Bingley becoming angered, and Elizabeth had found herself banished to the far end of the table during family dinners, with only the inebriated Mr. Hurst for companionship, while Miss Bingley fawned over Darcy and tried to monopolize his notice. Yet, even at these times, Darcy’s dark, penetrating eyes continued to seek her out. Whatever could it mean?
Charlotte Lucas had often told Elizabeth she believed Darcy admired her a great deal, but Elizabeth could not agree with such a notion. Her usual reply was to laugh it off and tell her, “That is simply not possible, Charlotte, for I know he dislikes me as much as I do him,” before steering the conversation to some other topic.
After a while, Charlotte no longer commented on such observations, but she did raise a speculative brow and cast a knowing look at Elizabeth each time she caught Darcy observing her friend, which was almost continuously whenever they were thrown into company together. Elizabeth found this occurred quite often.
The two gentlemen from Netherfield had just entered Meryton on their way to Longbourn when they chanced to notice the very ladies whom they were, indeed, intending to call upon, standing on the opposite side of the street. With great eagerness, Bingley urged his mount toward the object of his affection, Miss Jane Bennet, while Darcy remained several paces behind, struggling against the turmoil incited in his breast by the pleasing form and fine eyes of Jane’s sister Elizabeth.
It had been happening for many weeks now and, no matter how many times Darcy reminded himself of the unsuitability of her situation and the lowness of her connections, the lively intelligence, clever wit, and graceful yet unassuming manners of the lady never failed to impress upon him the very great danger he faced in spite of his disapprobation. He had tried every method within his power to rid himself of his overwhelming—and rather disconcerting—feelings for her, but the bewitching Elizabeth Bennet would not grant him reprieve. When Darcy was awake, she invaded his thoughts constantly, and in the late hours of the night, she ruled his subconscious, leading him to forbidden imaginings of passionate splendor. Darcy reined in his horse, his eyes fixed firmly upon Elizabeth.
She was engaged in conversation with an unidentified gentleman who appeared to be paying her rapt attention. After a few moments, their conversation waned, and in the next instant, she looked up to see Darcy staring at her. She acknowledged him with a small, polite inclination of her head, which caused the gentleman she had been talking with to turn.
Immediately, Darcy felt the color drain from his face as his mind reeled with painful recollections of Ramsgate and his sister, Georgiana… and Wickham! Good God! What the devil is George Wickham doing here? Anger spread like wildfire through his entire body, leaving him fighting to master his emotions. It was not a feat easily accomplished in the midst of Meryton. He was seething as Wickham touched his fingertips to the brim of his hat, his mouth curling into a smirk as he acknowledged Darcy’s glare. Darcy forced himself to look away toward Bingley, who was shrouded in happy oblivion as he smiled down from his horse at Jane Bennet. He had clearly missed the exchange between the two men.
This was not the case with Elizabeth, who had been appraising their interaction with some degree of concern on her face. Her gaze darted from Darcy to Wickham and back again. Without meaning to, Darcy’s gaze came to rest upon her just as a particularly severe look of displeasure spread over his handsome features. Elizabeth started at this, and Darcy, instantly regretting it, softened his expression, perhaps more so than he would have wished, providing Wickham with a private bit of information—information Darcy would never have wanted him to have at his disposal. Turning from Darcy with a sneer, Wickham focused all his charm on Elizabeth and proceeded to engage her, once again, in conversation.
Darcy’s blood grew cold. The idea of George Wickham gaining Elizabeth’s good opinion was more than he could stomach, but what could he do about it? Nothing! Absolutely nothing without laying his personal business open for all the world to scorn. He could not bear to put Georgiana through such humiliation and censure. But what of countless other young ladies? What of their honor? What of their respectability? And what of his Elizabeth? Darcy suddenly felt all the frustration of his position anew as a familiar ache in his breast reminded him she was not rightfully his to protect. Lydia Bennet’s wild laughter echoed through the street. Wickham’s easy manners and handsome countenance had most likely already recommended him to Elizabeth’s youngest sisters.
Darcy watched with resentment and alarm as Wickham conversed easily with Elizabeth. After several agonizing moments, her eyes turned up to meet his own tortured ones, and in their depths, Darcy could easily discern surprise, confusion, and curiosity. Surely, the witty and intelligent Elizabeth Bennet would not be taken in by the likes of George Wickham!
But what if he was in error? Wickham was charismatic and dangerous. Yes, she had no fortune to tempt him, but knowing Wickham as intimately as he did, would her relative poverty be enough to ensure her safety? She was certainly one of the handsomest women of Darcy’s acquaintance, and she had a multitude of charms to recommend her to any man. Darcy was agonizingly aware of each of them. Another alarming thought occurred to him then—should Wickham happen to succeed in imposing upon Elizabeth, what slanderous falsehoods might he fill her head with about him?
Darcy’s relationship with Elizabeth had always held an underlying level of anxiety. Even now, after nearly six weeks of being acquainted, including living under the same roof at Netherfield while she nursed her sister, it seemed tenuous at best, but any lies Wickham might now see fit to tell her could very easily cause irreparable harm to his suit. But why? he demanded in exasperation. Why should that be of tantamount concern? As deep a desire as I feel for her, could I ever sanction myself to act upon those feelings? Could I ever truly allow myself to form any real design on her?
He fought to repress the attraction he had felt toward her since the very first moments of their acquaintance. It had been a constant struggle, one he knew he was losing. Bloody hell! It was simply no use! Even the merest possibility of Elizabeth Bennet thinking the worst of him—and at Wickham’s hands—made Darcy’s present agitation all the greater. He could not leave his desire for her esteem to chance, and with an impulsiveness few who knew him in Hertfordshire would recognize, he leapt from his horse.
This action finally succeeded in rousing Bingley from his unabashed admiration of Jane, and he followed Darcy’s lead with enthusiasm. Blissfully unaware of the hostility radiating from his friend, Bingley greeted the assembled group, then turned his attention back to Jane. “It is a pleasure to see you this morning, Miss Bennet, and all your sisters! We were just on our way to Longbourn to call upon you when we happened to see you here. It is certainly an exceptionally fine day, is it not?”
Jane blushed becomingly before replying that, indeed, it was.
Denny, one of the officers under Colonel Forster’s command, stepped forward then to introduce Wickham to Bingley’s acquaintance, informing him that his friend was to take a lieutenant’s commission with their regiment, now quartered in Meryton.
Bingley received him with his usual unaffected good humor and, though he gazed at Jane every few seconds, somehow managed to maintain an intelligent discourse with the gentlemen.
Darcy silently noted Elizabeth’s continued observation of his thinly veiled hostility toward Wickham. He knew he must speak, or she would certainly think the worst of him for such animosity. With nothing short of a supreme effort of will, he forced himself to assume a semblance of composure and inquire after the health of her parents.
She met him with civility as she replied, “They are both in excellent health, I thank you,” and fell into silence.
“Um, do you often walk into Meryton, Miss Bennet?” he asked, failing to suppress a scowl at his adversary who, at that moment, dared to be smiling at his Elizabeth while attempting to speak convincingly with Bingley.
“Why, yes, Mr. Darcy. It is a pleasant enough walk, and as you can see, there are always an abundance of acquaintances to be met with.” Here, she glanced boldly at Wickham. Darcy wrestled most fervently to hide his displeasure. Elizabeth continued calmly,
“What think you of the village, Mr. Darcy?”
“Charming,” he muttered, his answer perfunctory.
“And have you had an opportunity to acquaint yourself with the various establishments, sir?”
“What? No, not well. I have been too much engaged since my arrival to have had that privilege.”
Though Wickham’s eyes appeared to be focused most diligently on the rest of their party, Darcy knew with certainty Wickham was paying very close attention to his conversation with Elizabeth.
The master of Pemberley desperately wished to say something—anything—that would communicate an appropriate warning to her in some small way, but he knew it to be impossible under the circumstances. His frustration was extreme. Relief, however, came from a most welcome quarter.
“As it so happens, Mr. Darcy, there is a particular item I was hoping to procure this morning in one of the shops, just there, at the end of the street. If you feel you can bear my company, sir, I would be quite willing to assist you in familiarizing yourself with all the attractions Meryton holds.”
Though Elizabeth’s offer took Darcy by surprise, the benefit of such a proposal registered immediately. He tore his gaze from Wickham’s profile long enough to offer her his arm, which she took after a slight hesitation. “Thank you, Miss Bennet,” he said sedately, “I am most obliged to you.”
He led her away from the group at a restrained pace, and Elizabeth nonchalantly pointed out various aspects of the town and certain shops.
Darcy offered distracted responses, contemplating how best to address her on the unsavory subject of Wickham. After walking far enough to avoid being overheard, Elizabeth startled him once again by inquiring, in a somewhat direct manner, how long he had been acquainted with Mr. Wickham.
Darcy overlooked her boldness and stated, “I have known him practically my entire life, Miss Bennet. His father was my father’s steward, and a very respectable man. We played together as boys, grew up together on my father’s estate, and, at one time, even looked upon each other almost as brothers.” He paused to observe her startled reaction before blurting out, in spite of his better judgment, “You seem to take an eager interest in that gentleman’s relationship with me, Miss Bennet. Why is that? Is it merely curiosity on your part, or something more?”
“Why, Mr. Darcy, I was concerned only for the gravity of your countenance. It appeared to me even more serious than usual, and I merely thought you could use a diversion. Seeing as you do so enjoy staring out of windows whenever something greatly displeases you, I thought, perhaps, you might appreciate the opportunity to stare into them instead.”
Darcy, who under normal circumstances and with any other lady would have deemed such impertinence offensive, found it, instead—and when coming from this particular lady—to be nothing short of enchanting. Oh, how he dearly loved it when she took it upon herself to tease him! The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as he said, “Yes, well, I thank you for your concern, Miss Bennet.”
He then cleared his throat and continued, “After the passing of Mr. Wickham’s father, my own excellent father supported him at Cambridge with the intention the church would be his profession, and a valuable family living would be his once it were to fall vacant. After my father’s passing, which was but five years ago, Mr. Wickham professed a desire to study the law. Knowing by that time his habits deemed him quite ill-suited for the life of a clergyman, I rather hoped than believed him to be sincere. He requested and was granted the sum of three thousand pounds in lieu of the living…”
If Elizabeth had not known exactly what to expect, Darcy surmised from her shocked expression it certainly was not this. Steadily and with no small degree of increasing agitation, he continued to give her a detailed account of Mr. Wickham’s rather lengthy history of disreputable behavior.
When he came to the events of the previous summer at Ramsgate, however, the pain was still too fresh, and Darcy found his pride would not allow him to utter the name of his beloved sister. Instead, he revealed only the attempted seduction and elopement of an estimable young lady of his acquaintance. At last, he had done.
Elizabeth’s gaze remained on Darcy’s face. She was sickened to think she, who had always prided herself on her abilities of discernment, had been so ready to tease and insult the taciturn man before her—a man whom she had known for many weeks now—in favor of a complete stranger whom she had only just met and was, even now, for the most part, still unknown to her. Wickham’s easy countenance and pleasing manners had, in the mere quarter of an hour she had spoken with him, managed to make quite a favorable impression upon her, but what a mistaken impression she had apparently formed! Elizabeth blushed with mortification. That it should have taken place in the presence of Darcy made her agitation all the more extreme. For some reason she could not quite explain or even fathom, Elizabeth could not abide Darcy thinking any less of her than he already did for having erred so greatly in her judgment of such a man as Mr. Wickham.
Elizabeth’s anxiety was apparent, and Darcy felt all the responsibility of it as he stopped and, in a low voice full of heartfelt concern, said to her, “Miss Bennet, I am sorry, exceedingly sorry if what I have just related has caused you such distress. Please believe me, my purpose in doing so was solely to warn you and your sisters of the very great danger to yourselves from Mr. Wickham’s society. It was not my intention to be malicious or to cause you pain, and I must beg your understanding and hope you will forgive me for having upset you.”
Elizabeth looked away. “No, sir, I am perfectly well, and indeed, you are mistaken. There is nothing to forgive, but I find
I must now confess to you how unprepared I was to hear such an infamous account of the same amiable gentleman with whom I have only just become acquainted. I find it almost beyond me to credit such dreadful accusations and such duplicitous behavior, yet, given what I have come to know of your character, and given it is also your intimate history with Mr. Wickham, I fear I must believe you and allow it is true.”
Darcy uttered an audible sigh of relief and ran the back of his hand across his mouth. “Yes,” he said quietly, “it pains me to insist it is true in every particular. Please believe my sincerity, Miss Bennet, when I say there is no one who wishes more than I that Mr. Wickham’s gentlemanly appearance would ever be more than just an appearance.”
By the time Darcy and Elizabeth returned to the rest of their party, Wickham and Denny had since taken their leave. Elizabeth went to Jane and requested they all return home without delay.
Jane readily agreed.
Bingley, who proclaimed he was not entirely prepared to part with the ladies so soon, begged leave to accompany them back to Longbourn—a proposal that was met with happy acceptance from Jane. Feeling the danger of spending more time than he ought in the disconcerting company of Elizabeth Bennet for one morning, Darcy declined to join them, saying he had some pressing correspondence he had long put off but now found required his immediate attention.
* * *
That evening, in the privacy of their room, Elizabeth disclosed to Jane the particulars of her conversation with Darcy. Never wanting to think ill of anyone, Jane insisted Wickham could not possibly be so very bad as Darcy’s account of him made him seem.
“But, Lizzy, are you certain, absolutely certain, he has such designs at this time? Perhaps he has come to regret his past actions and is anxious to reestablish his character in the eyes of the world. He seems to possess such an expression of goodness in his addresses.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, Jane. I would well wish to think as you do, but I cannot help but believe it unlikely. ThoughMr. Darcy’s countenance bespoke the most vehement dislike of Mr. Wickham, you did not notice the way Mr. Wickham looked at Mr. Darcy. His expression was one of such derision and insolence. No, I cannot so easily acquit him of the crimes Mr. Darcy has laid at his door. I feel most inclined to believe he is not a man to be trusted.”
“By this account, then, Lizzy, he appears to feel as passionately for Mr. Darcy as Mr. Darcy does for him. Something very bad, perhaps even worse than what Mr. Darcy has related to you with regard to their association, must surely have occurred to promote such strong feelings of aversion.”
“I confess I am of your opinion on this matter. Mr. Darcy was most disturbed, Jane. Even as he was speaking privately to me of Mr. Wickham, he remained visibly so. It is most out of character for him to reveal such emotions on any matter, and given this, I cannot help but wonder whether he may yet be keeping something further to himself.”
Jane was thoughtful for a long moment before saying quietly, “Lizzy, I do believe Mr. Darcy must be in love with you.”
Elizabeth stared at her and laughed. “Jane! Whatever makes you think such a thing? Surely Mr. Darcy feels nothing for me. You remember his comment at the assembly, do you not?”
“Indeed, it was very wrong of him to say such a thing at all, never mind in company, but, Lizzy, does it not strike you as incredible that a man of Mr. Darcy’s notoriety—such a proud, private man of much significance in the world—would speak with you so willingly and openly about his dealings with such a man as Mr. Wickham? I can hardly credit it. No, it could only be a compliment to you, my dearest sister.”
“Really, Jane, this is too absurd!” She laughed again. “You know just as well as I do, Mr. Darcy holds me in contempt for my decided opinions and my impertinent manner. He would never deign to pay his addresses to me, an unknown country miss with nothing more than fifty pounds and my charms to recommend me, not when he could have a fashionable woman with fifty thousand and a title.”
Jane smiled. “I beg to differ.”
Elizabeth made to protest, but Jane silenced her. “You forget, Lizzy, I, as well as Charlotte, have noticed the attention Mr. Darcy pays you, even if it is nothing more than staring at you from across the room. It cannot have escaped your keen observation that you are, indeed, the only lady he stares at.” Jane shook her head. “No, there is no other explanation for it. Mr. Darcy must be in love with you.” The discussion was continued in earnest, and half the night was spent in conversation.
Chapter Two
The next day saw the arrival of an unexpected addition to the family party at Longbourn: Mr. Bennet’s cousin and heir, the Reverend William Collins. With the intention of making amends for an on-going estrangement by his late father and the entail of Longbourn estate to himself upon Mr. Bennet’s death, Mr. Collins journeyed from Kent to choose a wife from among Mr. Bennet’s five daughters. If this did nothing to recommend Mr. Collins to the young ladies, it did at least add the promise of entertainment for their father, who was an enthusiastic admirer of the ridiculous. Mr. Collins did not disappoint.
Though none of Mr. Bennet’s daughters, with the exception of Mary, could receive Mr. Collins’s arrival or his attentions with genuine pleasure, the same could not be said for Mrs. Bennet, who welcomed him with open arms—as she would any gentleman of an eligible age and a good income. Mrs. Bennet introduced him to her girls with great cordiality and enthusiasm.
Being the most beautiful of the five sisters, Jane immediately caught his eye. Fortunately for Jane, however, her mother most dutifully pointed out to him that Bingley and his five thousand a year had preceded him. It was then only fitting for Mr. Collins to transfer his affections from Jane to Elizabeth—the next in age and beauty—and he did so with surprising alacrity.
“Lord, Lizzy!” her youngest sister, Lydia, laughed that evening after the gentlemen had withdrawn after supper. “I daresay you are becoming quite popular with all the pompous gentlemen in the neighborhood. First you are seen in Meryton talking alone with that dull Mr. Darcy, and now you have gone and caught Mr. Collins’s eye, as well! What a good joke if Papa were actually to force you to marry one of them! I could not imagine being shackled to such wretched bores!”
“Oh, yes!” Kitty joined in. “But really, Lizzy, you are being selfish. Will you not leave any eligible prospects for the rest of us?” she admonished before bursting into a fit of giggles.
Elizabeth folded her arms and scowled. “Lydia! Kitty! I would remind you both not to talk of such things, particularly when you know nothing of the circumstances.”
“Who shall be next then, do you think?” Lydia asked merrily. “Oh! I know! Mrs. Goulding has an old, incontinent relative visiting her. Perhaps he will do nicely for Lizzy, as well!”
Mrs. Bennet interjected. “Now, girls, that is quite enough. You know perfectly well Mr. Pritchard is far too elderly for your sister… although, he would likely leave her with a very pretty estate in Devonshire…” She frowned. “Now, Miss Lizzy, what is this I hear about your talking alone with that odious Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth blushed. “It is nothing, Mama. I was merely showing him some of the village. It was all quite innocent, I assure you. I have no interest in that particular gentleman, and I am quite certain Mr. Darcy has very little interest in me.”
“I do not doubt that one bit,” she agreed as she wrung her lace handkerchief. “I will admit there was a time when I would have been happy to see one of you girls so advantageously settled as mistress to that man’s estate—goodness! Ten thousand a year!—but he has since shown himself to be such a proud, disagreeable man that I would not have him near any of you for all the gold in the Kingdom! No, Mr. Collins will do very nicely for you, Lizzy. Mark my words. You are very lucky to get such a man… so affable! So promising! So fortunate in his patroness, the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh!”
Elizabeth, for all her protests, could not convince her mother she would not suit Mr. Collins at all, nor would he suit her. In the end, she only retired to bed, determined to avoid Mr. Collins as much as possible and to also avoid doing anything in the future that might incite any unwelcome speculation about herself and Mr. Darcy.
Over the course of the next few days, Elizabeth found herself often in the presence of Darcy. Though that gentleman continued to stare at her just as steadily as he always had, Elizabeth was startled on several occasions to have him approach her as well, with the obvious intention of engaging her in conversation. Elizabeth did everything in her power to quickly extract herself from his company and to avoid him whenever possible, making a point to speak politely with every officer or gentleman, save Lieutenant Wickham, who paid her even the slightest attention. She had no intention of speaking with Darcy, either alone or in the company of others.
Each evening Darcy now passed in Elizabeth’s society, saw him become brooding and withdrawn. He could hardly like her friendly attentions to others, not when he wished for nothing more than her eyes, her lively teasing, and her smiles to be directed at him. He could not understand what could have occurred to make her wish to avoid him now, for it was quite clear to him Elizabeth was avoiding him. Though Darcy felt a great deal of pain over her inexplicable actions, he could at least rejoice in the fact she did seem to take his warning about Wickham to heart. She avoided prolonged contact with that gentleman, as well.
The following evening, the Bennets were all to dine at the home of their Aunt and Uncle Phillips in Meryton. Mr. Collins was delighted to find himself included in the invitation. He had been loath to part from Elizabeth, to whom he had been attentive since he had decided upon her several days earlier. Mrs. Bennet wasted no time by publicly proclaiming her immense delight with the match and encouraging it in whatever way she could.
To Kitty and Lydia, this continued to be a ceaseless source of amusement, especially since they considered themselves most fortunate to have escaped any such notice by the stodgy Mr. Collins.
After all, in the opinion of Mrs. Bennet’s two youngest daughters, what woman could ever be bothered to give two straws about a droll clergyman when there were far more satisfying prospects to be had parading themselves about the countryside of Hertfordshire in regimentals? They delighted in making their sentiments known.
With immense relief, Elizabeth managed to slip away from Mr. Collins’s attentive and somewhat overbearing society while he spoke with great enthusiasm to her Aunt Phillips about the grandeur of Rosings Park and the condescension and affability of his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. In her aunt, Mr. Collins was sure to find a most obliging listener and, in Mrs. Phillips’s guests, an audience eager to hear his raptures on his favorite topic for the greater part of the evening.
She soon found herself uneasy, however, as she recognized Mr. Wickham standing slightly apart from the other officers and guests in her aunt’s home, an insincere smile gracing his face, and his gaze resting upon her. She had not spoken with him at any length since their first meeting in Meryton, when Darcy had cautioned her not to be taken in by his easy manners. Elizabeth had imagined any association with Darcy would have been enough to deter Wickham from wishing to renew their slight acquaintance, but in that she had been mistaken. He had taken every opportunity, on the few occasions when their paths did cross, to attempt to engage her in conversation. She could see by the determined look in his eyes that tonight would be no different, and indeed, no sooner had she left Mr. Collins than Elizabeth found herself being addressed with a low bow and an ingratiating smile.
“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth. I must say you are looking lovely this evening.”
She returned his compliment with guarded civility. Wickham was far from discouraged. “I must confess I had hoped to have become better acquainted with you by now, but alas, I have not had the pleasure of seeing you in Meryton with your sisters these six days at least. I can only imagine this is due to some far more rewarding pursuit of yours, which must, undoubtedly, have a prior claim on your time.”
Elizabeth did not know whether or not she trusted his words and, with a raised brow, replied, “I engage in many pursuits I find to be rewarding, Mr. Wickham.”
“Do you indulge yourself in these rewarding pursuits daily, then?”
“Yes, I suppose I do, whenever I find I am at leisure.”
“I see. And which pursuit, if you do not mind my asking, brings you the most pleasure, Miss Elizabeth?” Wickham inquired.
Elizabeth hesitated. “I am partial to any form of exercise that might afford me an opportunity to be out-of-doors, particularly when the weather is fine.”
“You enjoy taking your exercise out-of-doors, do you? How interesting. Tell me, Miss Elizabeth, would I be correct to assume you also enjoy taking your pleasure indoors whenever you can?”
Elizabeth observed him with a puzzled expression. “Indoors, Mr. Wickham? I am not certain whether I understand your meaning. Certainly, when the weather is uncooperative, one will find pleasure in one’s needlework, at the pianoforte, or in a good book, but you must own that one can hardly compare taking a turn in a stuffy drawing room to the satisfaction of a leisurely ramble in the fresh air of a wooded path.”
Wickham’s voice took on a tone she could not like. “Oh, come now, Miss Elizabeth, there is no need to be coy. I have noticed your intimacy with a certain gentleman from Derbyshire… or, to be more accurate, his marked preference for you. I can imagine it must be rather gratifying for a young lady such as yourself to be singled out by such a wealthy and distinguished man who has lived very much in the world.”
Elizabeth gasped as comprehension dawned on her. Wickham lowered his voice in a disturbing manner and said in a throaty whisper, “Does his… society satisfy you, Miss Elizabeth? Because I, for one, would be most obliged to step in and instruct you myself whenever you may feel the urge for far more superior companionship. I assure you, I have never been known to disappoint a beautiful woman.” He took a step closer while his gaze roamed over her form. A smirk began to tug at the corners of Wickham’s mouth, and the same insolent sneer he had worn for Darcy appeared for her.
Elizabeth was appalled and sickened by the vulgarity of this man, and before she could stop herself or recall where she was, she raised her hand to slap him hard across his face. To her further horror, Wickham caught her hand roughly in his and forced it, instead, to his lips as he let out a soft, derisive laugh. “Of course, I knew you and I would soon come to an understanding of sorts.”
Elizabeth struggled to pull her hand from his grasp, but he gripped it tightly—almost painfully—his gaze boring into her in a most offensive manner before he finally released her, but not before muttering in her ear, “He is a very lucky man, Miss Elizabeth. Please be sure to give him my best compliments when you are next with him. And if you should ever change your mind…”
In alarm and disgust, Elizabeth broke away and fled from Wickham. If there had been any doubt in her mind about the credibility of Darcy’s information regarding Wickham’s character, the offensiveness of his address and his repulsive behavior had just removed it completely. She saw Jane in avid conversation with Charlotte Lucas on the other side of the room. Bingley, she was certain, had very likely been attending them, though at this moment he was moving quickly and deliberately in her direction with a frowning countenance. Elizabeth found herself extremely grateful that, for once, Jane had not succeeded in monopolizing his attention. When he reached her, Bingley drew her quietly aside into an unoccupied corner and addressed her with great concern. “Miss Elizabeth, are you well? Forgive me, but I could not fail to notice your distress as you were speaking with Mr. Wickham. Did he impose himself upon you in any way? Did he insult you?”
Elizabeth struggled to regain her composure. After a minute, she was able to find her voice and said shakily and with revulsion, “I believe, Mr. Bingley, were you to reveal to me at this very moment prior knowledge of Mr. Wickham’s intent to come here with the express purpose of insulting me in a most vulgar and offensive manner, I would not be at all surprised to hear it.”
Grimly, Bingley then asked her to relate to him the entirety of her conversation with that gentleman, but Elizabeth, feeling far too mortified to think upon all that had been said, let alone repeat it to Bingley, adamantly refused. Wickham’s disgusting manner and offensive implications of an intimacy between her and Darcy made her agitation extreme.
Offering Elizabeth his arm, Bingley scanned the room. Wickham had been observing them before sauntering over to Mrs. Phillips to take his leave. Once he was out of the house, Elizabeth visibly relaxed. Bingley was most solicitous as he steered her to Jane’s side before politely excusing himself to speak privately with Colonel Forster.
Though none of Mr. Bennet’s daughters, with the exception of Mary, could receive Mr. Collins’s arrival or his attentions with genuine pleasure, the same could not be said for Mrs. Bennet, who welcomed him with open arms—as she would any gentleman of an eligible age and a good income. Mrs. Bennet introduced him to her girls with great cordiality and enthusiasm.
Being the most beautiful of the five sisters, Jane immediately caught his eye. Fortunately for Jane, however, her mother most dutifully pointed out to him that Bingley and his five thousand a year had preceded him. It was then only fitting for Mr. Collins to transfer his affections from Jane to Elizabeth—the next in age and beauty—and he did so with surprising alacrity.
“Lord, Lizzy!” her youngest sister, Lydia, laughed that evening after the gentlemen had withdrawn after supper. “I daresay you are becoming quite popular with all the pompous gentlemen in the neighborhood. First you are seen in Meryton talking alone with that dull Mr. Darcy, and now you have gone and caught Mr. Collins’s eye, as well! What a good joke if Papa were actually to force you to marry one of them! I could not imagine being shackled to such wretched bores!”
“Oh, yes!” Kitty joined in. “But really, Lizzy, you are being selfish. Will you not leave any eligible prospects for the rest of us?” she admonished before bursting into a fit of giggles.
Elizabeth folded her arms and scowled. “Lydia! Kitty! I would remind you both not to talk of such things, particularly when you know nothing of the circumstances.”
“Who shall be next then, do you think?” Lydia asked merrily. “Oh! I know! Mrs. Goulding has an old, incontinent relative visiting her. Perhaps he will do nicely for Lizzy, as well!”
Mrs. Bennet interjected. “Now, girls, that is quite enough. You know perfectly well Mr. Pritchard is far too elderly for your sister… although, he would likely leave her with a very pretty estate in Devonshire…” She frowned. “Now, Miss Lizzy, what is this I hear about your talking alone with that odious Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth blushed. “It is nothing, Mama. I was merely showing him some of the village. It was all quite innocent, I assure you. I have no interest in that particular gentleman, and I am quite certain Mr. Darcy has very little interest in me.”
“I do not doubt that one bit,” she agreed as she wrung her lace handkerchief. “I will admit there was a time when I would have been happy to see one of you girls so advantageously settled as mistress to that man’s estate—goodness! Ten thousand a year!—but he has since shown himself to be such a proud, disagreeable man that I would not have him near any of you for all the gold in the Kingdom! No, Mr. Collins will do very nicely for you, Lizzy. Mark my words. You are very lucky to get such a man… so affable! So promising! So fortunate in his patroness, the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh!”
Elizabeth, for all her protests, could not convince her mother she would not suit Mr. Collins at all, nor would he suit her. In the end, she only retired to bed, determined to avoid Mr. Collins as much as possible and to also avoid doing anything in the future that might incite any unwelcome speculation about herself and Mr. Darcy.
Over the course of the next few days, Elizabeth found herself often in the presence of Darcy. Though that gentleman continued to stare at her just as steadily as he always had, Elizabeth was startled on several occasions to have him approach her as well, with the obvious intention of engaging her in conversation. Elizabeth did everything in her power to quickly extract herself from his company and to avoid him whenever possible, making a point to speak politely with every officer or gentleman, save Lieutenant Wickham, who paid her even the slightest attention. She had no intention of speaking with Darcy, either alone or in the company of others.
Each evening Darcy now passed in Elizabeth’s society, saw him become brooding and withdrawn. He could hardly like her friendly attentions to others, not when he wished for nothing more than her eyes, her lively teasing, and her smiles to be directed at him. He could not understand what could have occurred to make her wish to avoid him now, for it was quite clear to him Elizabeth was avoiding him. Though Darcy felt a great deal of pain over her inexplicable actions, he could at least rejoice in the fact she did seem to take his warning about Wickham to heart. She avoided prolonged contact with that gentleman, as well.
The following evening, the Bennets were all to dine at the home of their Aunt and Uncle Phillips in Meryton. Mr. Collins was delighted to find himself included in the invitation. He had been loath to part from Elizabeth, to whom he had been attentive since he had decided upon her several days earlier. Mrs. Bennet wasted no time by publicly proclaiming her immense delight with the match and encouraging it in whatever way she could.
To Kitty and Lydia, this continued to be a ceaseless source of amusement, especially since they considered themselves most fortunate to have escaped any such notice by the stodgy Mr. Collins.
After all, in the opinion of Mrs. Bennet’s two youngest daughters, what woman could ever be bothered to give two straws about a droll clergyman when there were far more satisfying prospects to be had parading themselves about the countryside of Hertfordshire in regimentals? They delighted in making their sentiments known.
With immense relief, Elizabeth managed to slip away from Mr. Collins’s attentive and somewhat overbearing society while he spoke with great enthusiasm to her Aunt Phillips about the grandeur of Rosings Park and the condescension and affability of his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. In her aunt, Mr. Collins was sure to find a most obliging listener and, in Mrs. Phillips’s guests, an audience eager to hear his raptures on his favorite topic for the greater part of the evening.
She soon found herself uneasy, however, as she recognized Mr. Wickham standing slightly apart from the other officers and guests in her aunt’s home, an insincere smile gracing his face, and his gaze resting upon her. She had not spoken with him at any length since their first meeting in Meryton, when Darcy had cautioned her not to be taken in by his easy manners. Elizabeth had imagined any association with Darcy would have been enough to deter Wickham from wishing to renew their slight acquaintance, but in that she had been mistaken. He had taken every opportunity, on the few occasions when their paths did cross, to attempt to engage her in conversation. She could see by the determined look in his eyes that tonight would be no different, and indeed, no sooner had she left Mr. Collins than Elizabeth found herself being addressed with a low bow and an ingratiating smile.
“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth. I must say you are looking lovely this evening.”
She returned his compliment with guarded civility. Wickham was far from discouraged. “I must confess I had hoped to have become better acquainted with you by now, but alas, I have not had the pleasure of seeing you in Meryton with your sisters these six days at least. I can only imagine this is due to some far more rewarding pursuit of yours, which must, undoubtedly, have a prior claim on your time.”
Elizabeth did not know whether or not she trusted his words and, with a raised brow, replied, “I engage in many pursuits I find to be rewarding, Mr. Wickham.”
“Do you indulge yourself in these rewarding pursuits daily, then?”
“Yes, I suppose I do, whenever I find I am at leisure.”
“I see. And which pursuit, if you do not mind my asking, brings you the most pleasure, Miss Elizabeth?” Wickham inquired.
Elizabeth hesitated. “I am partial to any form of exercise that might afford me an opportunity to be out-of-doors, particularly when the weather is fine.”
“You enjoy taking your exercise out-of-doors, do you? How interesting. Tell me, Miss Elizabeth, would I be correct to assume you also enjoy taking your pleasure indoors whenever you can?”
Elizabeth observed him with a puzzled expression. “Indoors, Mr. Wickham? I am not certain whether I understand your meaning. Certainly, when the weather is uncooperative, one will find pleasure in one’s needlework, at the pianoforte, or in a good book, but you must own that one can hardly compare taking a turn in a stuffy drawing room to the satisfaction of a leisurely ramble in the fresh air of a wooded path.”
Wickham’s voice took on a tone she could not like. “Oh, come now, Miss Elizabeth, there is no need to be coy. I have noticed your intimacy with a certain gentleman from Derbyshire… or, to be more accurate, his marked preference for you. I can imagine it must be rather gratifying for a young lady such as yourself to be singled out by such a wealthy and distinguished man who has lived very much in the world.”
Elizabeth gasped as comprehension dawned on her. Wickham lowered his voice in a disturbing manner and said in a throaty whisper, “Does his… society satisfy you, Miss Elizabeth? Because I, for one, would be most obliged to step in and instruct you myself whenever you may feel the urge for far more superior companionship. I assure you, I have never been known to disappoint a beautiful woman.” He took a step closer while his gaze roamed over her form. A smirk began to tug at the corners of Wickham’s mouth, and the same insolent sneer he had worn for Darcy appeared for her.
Elizabeth was appalled and sickened by the vulgarity of this man, and before she could stop herself or recall where she was, she raised her hand to slap him hard across his face. To her further horror, Wickham caught her hand roughly in his and forced it, instead, to his lips as he let out a soft, derisive laugh. “Of course, I knew you and I would soon come to an understanding of sorts.”
Elizabeth struggled to pull her hand from his grasp, but he gripped it tightly—almost painfully—his gaze boring into her in a most offensive manner before he finally released her, but not before muttering in her ear, “He is a very lucky man, Miss Elizabeth. Please be sure to give him my best compliments when you are next with him. And if you should ever change your mind…”
In alarm and disgust, Elizabeth broke away and fled from Wickham. If there had been any doubt in her mind about the credibility of Darcy’s information regarding Wickham’s character, the offensiveness of his address and his repulsive behavior had just removed it completely. She saw Jane in avid conversation with Charlotte Lucas on the other side of the room. Bingley, she was certain, had very likely been attending them, though at this moment he was moving quickly and deliberately in her direction with a frowning countenance. Elizabeth found herself extremely grateful that, for once, Jane had not succeeded in monopolizing his attention. When he reached her, Bingley drew her quietly aside into an unoccupied corner and addressed her with great concern. “Miss Elizabeth, are you well? Forgive me, but I could not fail to notice your distress as you were speaking with Mr. Wickham. Did he impose himself upon you in any way? Did he insult you?”
Elizabeth struggled to regain her composure. After a minute, she was able to find her voice and said shakily and with revulsion, “I believe, Mr. Bingley, were you to reveal to me at this very moment prior knowledge of Mr. Wickham’s intent to come here with the express purpose of insulting me in a most vulgar and offensive manner, I would not be at all surprised to hear it.”
Grimly, Bingley then asked her to relate to him the entirety of her conversation with that gentleman, but Elizabeth, feeling far too mortified to think upon all that had been said, let alone repeat it to Bingley, adamantly refused. Wickham’s disgusting manner and offensive implications of an intimacy between her and Darcy made her agitation extreme.
Offering Elizabeth his arm, Bingley scanned the room. Wickham had been observing them before sauntering over to Mrs. Phillips to take his leave. Once he was out of the house, Elizabeth visibly relaxed. Bingley was most solicitous as he steered her to Jane’s side before politely excusing himself to speak privately with Colonel Forster.
Chapter Three
When Bingley arrived home that evening, Darcy was engrossed in a book in Netherfield’s library. “How was your evening, Bingley?” he asked absently as he turned a page. “I hope Mrs. Phillips’s society was to your liking.”
“An excellent question, Darcy,” he responded heatedly as he threw himself into a chair by the fire, “but perhaps you might do better to inquire after the pleasure of Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s evening, of which I can most heartily assure you there was none.”
Darcy closed his book immediately. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet? To what do you refer, Bingley?”
“I refer, Darcy, to the disturbing and insulting behavior I witnessed toward her this evening at the hands of your so-called friend George Wickham!” Darcy’s blood ran cold. Had he heard Bingley correctly? His Elizabeth accosted by Wickham? Bingley’s expression told him all. Darcy leapt to his feet as his anger took a firm hold over his senses. “What in God’s name did he do to her? Damn it, Bingley! You must tell me you protected her! Please tell me she is unharmed!”
Darcy was incensed and, in his rashness, took several threatening steps toward Bingley, a maneuver that caused his friend to jump from his seat and retreat several paces. Raising both hands to Darcy’s chest, he replied in earnest, “Yes, she is safe! She is safe, Darcy! Calm yourself, man! She was only in conversation with him and not long, though I must tell you it was most distressing to watch. I believe he must have said such things to her that would never bear repeating in polite company, for she refused even to tell Jane—er, I mean Miss Bennet—what they were. At one point, she actually attempted to strike the libertine.”
Darcy looked at Bingley with incredulity. “Elizabeth struck Wickham?” His unguarded use of her Christian name was lost on his friend.
“No,” Bingley stammered. “He caught her hand before she could make contact, and that scoundrel kissed it, not at all inclined to release her, I might add. It was then when I went to her.”
Darcy raked his hands through his hair, utterly sickened by the prospect of Wickham touching any part of Elizabeth’s person. He began pacing the length of the room, praying for some modicum of control to return. “And what of her father? What of her uncle? Colonel Forster and the other officers? Did no one else do anything in her defense? Surely, you could not have been the only person to go to her aid? I find it impossible to accept an entire house full of people, including members of her own family, could be blind to such a scene!”
Bingley shook his head. “I could hardly believe it myself, but
I was absolutely the only person aware of the nature of the exchange between them. Mr. Bennet was not present, her mother and sisters were engaged, and not even that half-wit of a clergyman, who has all but glued himself to her for the last five days, had any knowledge of the insult. I did happen to speak to Colonel Forster, though. He was most disturbed when I informed him of the incident and has promised most faithfully to personally look into the matter. I plan on riding to Longbourn tomorrow to speak to Mr. Bennet. I feel he should be made aware of the events that have transpired.” He hesitated a moment. “I have been thinking, Darcy, perhaps it would be best if you were to accompany me, given your past dealings with Wickham and your insight into his character. I believe Miss Elizabeth’s father has a right to know of what he is truly capable.”
Darcy strode to the window and leaned his forearm against the casement, staring out into the night. Several minutes passed in silence before he finally spoke, his voice ragged with feeling. “I should have been there with her. This never should have been allowed to happen. She would not have left my sight for a moment.”
Bingley shook his head. “Darcy, it was only by chance I caught the exchange between Miss Elizabeth and Wickham. I fail to see how you could have prevented what you may not have noticed yourself.”
It was simply too much. All the frustration he felt from his endless struggle against his overpowering feelings for Elizabeth caused Darcy to explode. “I would have been aware of it, Bingley! I, who am most excruciatingly conscious of her every movement when I am in her company! I see every smile she bestows, every expression of tenderness, every breath that fills her lungs—none of which is ever for me!” He swallowed hard and tried desperately to compose himself.
Bingley’s mouth dropped open. After a moment, he closed it and said, “I must confess I am at a loss. I had no idea you had tender feelings for Miss Elizabeth. Pray, how long have you felt this way?”
Striving to collect himself, Darcy muttered, “Forgive me. It has been so for many weeks now. I am only surprised you failed to notice it, because it was most easily discerned the other day in very little time by George Wickham.” He let his forehead rest against the glass, allowing its coolness to soothe him.
“Does Miss Elizabeth know?”
Darcy sighed. “That I am in love with her? No, and I would be most grateful if it were to remain that way.”
“But surely you mean to tell her?”
“No, Bingley, I assure you I do not.”
“But why, Darcy? Why would you endeavor to keep such extraordinary feelings hidden from her? What could ever be gained by it? Do you not think Miss Elizabeth would welcome your addresses?”
“No,” he said evenly, “she would not. She does not return my regard, and I would be lying to myself if I believed differently. Even if, by some stroke of exquisite good fortune, Miss Elizabeth were to love me, it would in no way change our circumstances. I cannot make a fortuneless country beauty the mistress of Pemberley, no matter how desperately I may desire it. Duty to my family—to my position in society—strictly forbids such a union between us.”
“Duty to your position?” Bingley cried. “Duty to your position be hanged! What about your duty to yourself, Darcy? Would it not bring you incredible joy and comfort to make Miss Elizabeth your wife and to see your children running through the halls of Pemberley? Would you not truly be content to grow old with her by your side? Do you honestly expect me to believe your family and your friends—all those who most desire to see you happy in life—would wish instead for you to spend your days alone and in misery, or worse, married to another in a loveless union, simply because the one woman you happened to fall in love with does not move in the same social circles as they do? I cannot accept it. Elizabeth Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman, and she is in every way a lady. You are equals; no one can deny that.”
Darcy turned away from the window and faced him. “But what of her mother, Bingley? What of her younger sisters, her aunts and uncles? Certainly you must recognize their behavior and low connections must materially lessen the chances of one’s marital felicity. Anyone who chooses to align themselves with such a family would be shunned in London society. Her family would never even be acknowledged, never mind accepted. I would not wish that upon Miss Elizabeth. I would not wish it upon anyone whom I hold dear.”
“And this should be of significant consequence? The insipid opinions of the London ton, whose favor and disfavor, approval and censure, are so easily bought and sold like tradeable goods? No one who conducts themselves in such a manner could ever esteem a man of your impeccable character and intellect in the first place, Darcy! And, surely, your family would not be so insensible and unfeeling as to follow their example. Would you have me act in such an irrational manner? Would you have me make myself unhappy—expect me to give up my Miss Bennet—for no better reason other than Caroline’s and Louisa’s selfish disdain for the connection?”
Darcy did not respond.
“Do you not approve of my relationship with Miss Bennet, Darcy?”
Darcy winced. He had not wanted it to come to this, especially tonight. “I am sorry, Bingley, but I cannot. You clearly do not understand the consequences and the disgrace you will suffer should you continue in your endeavor to align yourself with such a family. It would be your ruin. I cannot speak any plainer than this.”
Bingley was angry; Darcy had never seen him more so. “You are correct, Darcy, I do not understand anything of the sort! I do, however, comprehend the wretchedness Miss Bennet and I would suffer were I to allow myself to be so disgracefully persuaded from following the counsel of my own heart on such a matter! No, Darcy. That is a consequence I am most unwilling to suffer for any person, be they relation or friend, and most especially for any damned, misguided notion of duty!” He turned then and stormed from the room, leaving Darcy alone with much to consider.
Reproduction or redistribution of the above text in any form without the written consent of the author is strictly prohibited. Copyright © Susan Adriani, 2011. All rights reserved.
“An excellent question, Darcy,” he responded heatedly as he threw himself into a chair by the fire, “but perhaps you might do better to inquire after the pleasure of Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s evening, of which I can most heartily assure you there was none.”
Darcy closed his book immediately. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet? To what do you refer, Bingley?”
“I refer, Darcy, to the disturbing and insulting behavior I witnessed toward her this evening at the hands of your so-called friend George Wickham!” Darcy’s blood ran cold. Had he heard Bingley correctly? His Elizabeth accosted by Wickham? Bingley’s expression told him all. Darcy leapt to his feet as his anger took a firm hold over his senses. “What in God’s name did he do to her? Damn it, Bingley! You must tell me you protected her! Please tell me she is unharmed!”
Darcy was incensed and, in his rashness, took several threatening steps toward Bingley, a maneuver that caused his friend to jump from his seat and retreat several paces. Raising both hands to Darcy’s chest, he replied in earnest, “Yes, she is safe! She is safe, Darcy! Calm yourself, man! She was only in conversation with him and not long, though I must tell you it was most distressing to watch. I believe he must have said such things to her that would never bear repeating in polite company, for she refused even to tell Jane—er, I mean Miss Bennet—what they were. At one point, she actually attempted to strike the libertine.”
Darcy looked at Bingley with incredulity. “Elizabeth struck Wickham?” His unguarded use of her Christian name was lost on his friend.
“No,” Bingley stammered. “He caught her hand before she could make contact, and that scoundrel kissed it, not at all inclined to release her, I might add. It was then when I went to her.”
Darcy raked his hands through his hair, utterly sickened by the prospect of Wickham touching any part of Elizabeth’s person. He began pacing the length of the room, praying for some modicum of control to return. “And what of her father? What of her uncle? Colonel Forster and the other officers? Did no one else do anything in her defense? Surely, you could not have been the only person to go to her aid? I find it impossible to accept an entire house full of people, including members of her own family, could be blind to such a scene!”
Bingley shook his head. “I could hardly believe it myself, but
I was absolutely the only person aware of the nature of the exchange between them. Mr. Bennet was not present, her mother and sisters were engaged, and not even that half-wit of a clergyman, who has all but glued himself to her for the last five days, had any knowledge of the insult. I did happen to speak to Colonel Forster, though. He was most disturbed when I informed him of the incident and has promised most faithfully to personally look into the matter. I plan on riding to Longbourn tomorrow to speak to Mr. Bennet. I feel he should be made aware of the events that have transpired.” He hesitated a moment. “I have been thinking, Darcy, perhaps it would be best if you were to accompany me, given your past dealings with Wickham and your insight into his character. I believe Miss Elizabeth’s father has a right to know of what he is truly capable.”
Darcy strode to the window and leaned his forearm against the casement, staring out into the night. Several minutes passed in silence before he finally spoke, his voice ragged with feeling. “I should have been there with her. This never should have been allowed to happen. She would not have left my sight for a moment.”
Bingley shook his head. “Darcy, it was only by chance I caught the exchange between Miss Elizabeth and Wickham. I fail to see how you could have prevented what you may not have noticed yourself.”
It was simply too much. All the frustration he felt from his endless struggle against his overpowering feelings for Elizabeth caused Darcy to explode. “I would have been aware of it, Bingley! I, who am most excruciatingly conscious of her every movement when I am in her company! I see every smile she bestows, every expression of tenderness, every breath that fills her lungs—none of which is ever for me!” He swallowed hard and tried desperately to compose himself.
Bingley’s mouth dropped open. After a moment, he closed it and said, “I must confess I am at a loss. I had no idea you had tender feelings for Miss Elizabeth. Pray, how long have you felt this way?”
Striving to collect himself, Darcy muttered, “Forgive me. It has been so for many weeks now. I am only surprised you failed to notice it, because it was most easily discerned the other day in very little time by George Wickham.” He let his forehead rest against the glass, allowing its coolness to soothe him.
“Does Miss Elizabeth know?”
Darcy sighed. “That I am in love with her? No, and I would be most grateful if it were to remain that way.”
“But surely you mean to tell her?”
“No, Bingley, I assure you I do not.”
“But why, Darcy? Why would you endeavor to keep such extraordinary feelings hidden from her? What could ever be gained by it? Do you not think Miss Elizabeth would welcome your addresses?”
“No,” he said evenly, “she would not. She does not return my regard, and I would be lying to myself if I believed differently. Even if, by some stroke of exquisite good fortune, Miss Elizabeth were to love me, it would in no way change our circumstances. I cannot make a fortuneless country beauty the mistress of Pemberley, no matter how desperately I may desire it. Duty to my family—to my position in society—strictly forbids such a union between us.”
“Duty to your position?” Bingley cried. “Duty to your position be hanged! What about your duty to yourself, Darcy? Would it not bring you incredible joy and comfort to make Miss Elizabeth your wife and to see your children running through the halls of Pemberley? Would you not truly be content to grow old with her by your side? Do you honestly expect me to believe your family and your friends—all those who most desire to see you happy in life—would wish instead for you to spend your days alone and in misery, or worse, married to another in a loveless union, simply because the one woman you happened to fall in love with does not move in the same social circles as they do? I cannot accept it. Elizabeth Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman, and she is in every way a lady. You are equals; no one can deny that.”
Darcy turned away from the window and faced him. “But what of her mother, Bingley? What of her younger sisters, her aunts and uncles? Certainly you must recognize their behavior and low connections must materially lessen the chances of one’s marital felicity. Anyone who chooses to align themselves with such a family would be shunned in London society. Her family would never even be acknowledged, never mind accepted. I would not wish that upon Miss Elizabeth. I would not wish it upon anyone whom I hold dear.”
“And this should be of significant consequence? The insipid opinions of the London ton, whose favor and disfavor, approval and censure, are so easily bought and sold like tradeable goods? No one who conducts themselves in such a manner could ever esteem a man of your impeccable character and intellect in the first place, Darcy! And, surely, your family would not be so insensible and unfeeling as to follow their example. Would you have me act in such an irrational manner? Would you have me make myself unhappy—expect me to give up my Miss Bennet—for no better reason other than Caroline’s and Louisa’s selfish disdain for the connection?”
Darcy did not respond.
“Do you not approve of my relationship with Miss Bennet, Darcy?”
Darcy winced. He had not wanted it to come to this, especially tonight. “I am sorry, Bingley, but I cannot. You clearly do not understand the consequences and the disgrace you will suffer should you continue in your endeavor to align yourself with such a family. It would be your ruin. I cannot speak any plainer than this.”
Bingley was angry; Darcy had never seen him more so. “You are correct, Darcy, I do not understand anything of the sort! I do, however, comprehend the wretchedness Miss Bennet and I would suffer were I to allow myself to be so disgracefully persuaded from following the counsel of my own heart on such a matter! No, Darcy. That is a consequence I am most unwilling to suffer for any person, be they relation or friend, and most especially for any damned, misguided notion of duty!” He turned then and stormed from the room, leaving Darcy alone with much to consider.
Reproduction or redistribution of the above text in any form without the written consent of the author is strictly prohibited. Copyright © Susan Adriani, 2011. All rights reserved.