Jump to new as of January 28, 2003
Seated comfortably in the parsonage parlour, Mr. Darcy had been content to allow the conversation to flow amiably among the ladies and the gentlemen for above a quarter hour without any interference from him. For once, Mr. Collins' society had been exceedingly beneficial, but not for any of the flattering comments or platitudes he had related. While the obsequious clergyman had talked unabated for above ten minutes, Darcy had ample time to gaze upon the bewitching Miss Bennet seated with his cousin across the room, while giving the appearance of attending to Mr. Collins's conversation.
She was lovely, he conceded. There were perhaps more handsome women among his acquaintance but her face when animated, particularly when she smiled and laughed, brought forth a warmth from within his heart that he had never felt before.
For the sake of propriety, Darcy spoke for the first time since he and his cousin were welcomed and invited to sit with the Collins' and their guests.
"After residing here for some months now, how do you find Kent, Mrs. Collins?"
"I find it much to my liking. Indeed, I have found my new home comfortable and the society of my new neighbours beyond my expectation," she replied.
Mr. Darcy, and surely everyone in the room excepting Mr. Collins, was no doubt aware that the latter was said to appease her husband rather than any real enjoyment of the society of his over-bearing and officious aunt. Her husband smiled and bowed at her compliment to his patroness. He seemed poised to pick up the conversation but to avoid any repetition of platitudes on the greatness of Lady Catherine and her relations, Darcy was quick to reply.
"You must be very happy with your new situation. Its advantages are many, it would seem," he said politely.
The disadvantages were as well all too obvious thought Darcy, glancing quickly at the simpering clergymen before casting his gaze back to a far lovelier vista. Miss Bennet and Fitzwilliam had been attending his conversation with the Collins' and he didn't fail to notice that the young lady's gaze quickly slid away when his landed on her.
She had been looking at him.
"Yes, I am happy, thank you," said Mrs. Collins. She paused and then with an arched brow and a sly look towards her friend said, "I may not be the only young lady from Hertfordshire to express the joys and felicity of her marriage come the summertime."
Mr. Darcy was struck cold by her words and stared while the young lady of question turned her head and pretended to admire a framed needlework, hanging on the wall. Shocked, a thousand thoughts flew through his mind. He thought he had been discrete, admiring Miss Bennet from afar and without particular attention while he considered and made up his mind about making her an offer. He had not wanted to entice hopes that would only lead to her disappointment should he decide against the match. Could he be mistaken? Could there be another competing for her suit? Impossible, he thought. There had been no one who had shown her any particular regard, other than himself, while he was at Netherfield. To be sure, it had been before Christmas since he was last in her company in Hertfordshire, but he did not detect that she held particular affection for any of his acquaintance there. No, it must be him Mrs. Collins was talking of. To think, that he had prided himself on acting with the utmost discretion, and to only now discover that he had been as conspicuous as a schoolboy mooning over his first love!
"What's this?" laughed the Colonel, who enjoyed the follies and embarrassments of his fellow men with good cheer. "Pray, Miss Bennet, to whom and when are we to wish you joy?"
His cousin seemed most perplexed at the venomous stare he received from Darcy, but applied to Miss Bennet for the information once more.
Her voice strained, she replied. "Mrs. Collins is mistaken, Sir. I am not engaged to anyone."
"Oh but even the most absurd gossip usually has within it a grain of truth. You cannot deny then that Mrs. Collins' information is entirely false? We will not ask you his name but do satisfy your friend by denying that the rumour is not entirely without foundation. Or is it?"
Miss Bennet blushed furiously and Darcy too, furious with anger, fought for his composure. It had been many years since he and Richard had roughhoused and scuffled in play when they were small, but there was nothing more Darcy wished at this moment than to call his cousin out and silence him forever. Indulging in gossip like a meddling mama! The idea struck him, that maybe Fitzwilliam had noticed his infatuation, as it could be called little else, with Miss Bennet and was persisting in the conversation to tease and make sport of him. He conceded though, it was unlike Fitzwilliam to be cruel, and he was not paying any attention to him as he would if the plan had been to tease him and delight in his reaction.
Still, he was angry with his cousin for pursuing the topic, but far angrier with himself. How could he have let his feelings become so obvious? Still undecided on whether he would make her an offer, Miss Bennet was now expecting it. For how could she have failed to notice his behaviour if her friend already had?
All the occupants of the room watched Miss Bennet, awaiting her reply, Darcy most of all.
"Sir, I must insist that I do not know of what you speak."
"Modesty is one of your many virtues I can plainly see," said the Colonel with a laugh, now content after Miss Bennet had been thoroughly embarrassed to let the subject drop.
The young Miss Maria Lucas piped up with a mischievous glint in her eye and said while looking around the company, eager for their reactions. "There is a red coat who will tell you of all her virtues, Colonel,"
'A red coat?' thought Darcy, confused. Unless Miss Lucas was mistaken then it was another suitor, not him, of whom they eluded? His feelings hovered between relief that he had not been discovered and dread that someone else might admire his beloved.
For indeed she was his beloved; the violent emotion he felt at just the idea she might soon belong to another confirmed in his mind what he knew in his heart. She was his last thought before he slept and his first when he awoke. She had found her way into his dreams last November, and despite his removal from her society, her ethereal nighttime likeness had followed him to town and taken up residence in the darkness of his bedchamber. During the winter he had met old acquaintances and new and, without even realising, had compared all the young ladies he had seen with his Elizabeth. Neither their wit nor their minds were as sharp as hers; their figures were not as pleasing and their smiles did not have the power to make his heart catch in his chest. They laughed and conversed with him well enough but their minds, he could tell, were more on his pocketbook than on his person.
She had teased him, provoked and argued with him at every chance during the previous autumn and was still as unashamedly bold in Kent. Ladies of the Ton spoke only to gain his approval while she seemed almost to seek his disapproval. Of this though, she had greatly miscalculated her chances of success, as there was nothing she could do or say which could, in his eyes, possibly warrant it.
After her sister's imprudent comment, Mrs. Collins steered the conversation, now carried mostly between herself and the Colonel, away to other subjects. Darcy watched as Miss Bennet, still too embarrassed to converse, examined her hands in her lap.
She had not looked over at him once since the business of her suitors had been brought up and Darcy was at a loss, unsure whether that was good or bad. She may not have looked towards him to protect him from the interests of the party or from her own embarrassment. Alternatively, she could have had no reason to look at him at all if her admirer was another man entirely.
Just the thought of another man wooing Miss Bennet was enough to make Darcy's stomach turn. It was then, while he was seated in the parsonage, that he vowed to have her. If Miss Lucas' information was right and it was a red coat of the militia currently stationed in Meryton who had formed designs on his future wife, then it was greatly to his advantage; he was sure to have met the man on one social occasion or another.
He, Bingley and Hurst had dined with Colonel Forster and his officers not long after the militia had arrived in Meryton. Darcy searched through the company of men trying to remember whom, if any, he had seen paying any regard to Miss Bennet. The list was fortunately small, but none of the officers on it seem likely candidates. Many of the officers were young, almost too young to think of marriage, and had happily engaged in minor flirtations with the young ladies of Meryton. He did, however, recall seeing Miss Bennet talking with Mr. Denny at the Netherfield ball. But, he remembered with growing frustration, she did not seem particularly inclined to his society and he seemed more than happy with the company of her younger sisters. Darcy tried to think; he couldn't ever recall seeing a tête-à-tête between her and any officer on any occasion, excepting Mr. Denny at Netherfield. Could it be him? He wasn't sure but attempted to think when they might have been in conversation with each other. There was Netherfield and he was sure he remembered them together at a party at Longbourn, though he was fairly certain that one or other of the youngest Bennet's were constantly at Denny's side during the party.
Darcy was dissatisfied with his line of inquiry. It didn't seem to be getting him any closer to the truth. Still he tried to recall seeing Miss Bennet and Mr. Denny in company yet again. There was Netherfield, Longbourn and then he realised he had forgotten the time when Bingley and he had met all of the Miss Bennets on the street in Meryton. They happened upon them while they were talking with Mr. Denny and. . .
Darcy drew a deep breath as the realisation hit him. It could not be true! It was in every way too horrible to believe! He felt cold, shocked beyond belief, and then hot, burning with anger. To think, that his most hated enemy, the man who had tried to destroy the life and happiness of his dearest sister for monetary gain could very well be the acknowledged suitor of Miss Bennet, his Miss Elizabeth Bennet!
He struggled to believe it, denying to himself that it could be true and then his own memory confirmed it. He recalled Miss Bingley declaring that she suspected an attachment between Elizabeth and that scoundrel. Miss Bingley had her own motives to be sure and he had not thought much of her communication at the time, but now when he was so certain of his own feelings and especially in light of the current circumstances he had no reason to doubt her good information.
Conversation was carried on by those around him, but Darcy paid it no heed. He could not think of anything but Wickham and Miss Bennet. She has no dowry of significance he recalled, so he cannot be after her with mercenary intentions. So why then, had he paid her particular attention? He could only think that Wickham had figured out that he was enamoured of her and was determined to ruin her as revenge against him. How Wickham knew of his attraction he could not understand; they had never been in company. Wild possibilities flew though his head, ranging from the absurd to the more likely. Someone had noticed Darcy's regard for Miss Bennet, Sir William Lucas perhaps, and whispered it to another. Before long the rumour had spread wide enough to reach the officers and Wickham. Why though, did Wickham think injuring Miss Bennet's reputation, as he could believe his intentions to be little else, could hurt him after he had returned to London and the acquaintance seemed at an end? Darcy had no answer to this but still it seemed the most likely possibility.
He was determined to tell her of Wickham's true nature as soon as may be. If she returned to Hertfordshire with his good information, she would be able to tell Wickham off without hesitation and avoid whatever scheming design he planned. Darcy wondered then, why, if Wickham was supposedly Miss Bennet's favourite as Miss Bingley had said, she had left Meryton and his society for Kent? He hoped fervently that she saw through his artful nature and wished to be rid of him. His rational mind however supplied that it was more probable that the visit to Hunsford had been planned long in advance before her friend's going away and she felt it unable to be broken.
Still lost in thought, Darcy was surprised that so much time had passed when Fitzwilliam announced that it was time they were leaving. He took one long look at Miss Bennet as he said his good-byes and she stared back at him unabashedly and curtseyed before he quit the parsonage.
His thoughts stayed on the one lady throughout the evening and into the early hours of the morning while he lay awake unable to sleep. The time however was not misspent as Darcy made plans to rise early and walk out in hope of meeting her wandering the groves of Rosings Park. He would carefully discern his suspicions of Wickham being her favourite -- although he was sure they were correct -- and then he would relate to her that man's true character. She would be distressed to hear of Wickham's misdeeds and villainy and it pained Darcy to think that he would be the one to bring her news that would cause her pain. It would anger him to see the hurt that Wickham's faults would cause in her, but Darcy would be there to comfort and console her that although she had been misled, the scoundrel had been found out before he could cause any real damage. Miss Bennet would be upset but then he would cheer her by telling her of the true, passionate and ardent love he held for her. He would then make her an offer and they would rejoice in their happiness together.
For the first time since he visited Miss Bennet that afternoon Darcy was able to relax and he felt the tightness in his chest dissipate. He sighed and fell into sleep, content that by tomorrow afternoon, Wickham's vicious designs would be uncovered once more, Miss Bennet would be his and all would be well.
After making a quick circumference of the grove and then travelling all its paths, he found her not to be within. Though disappointed, he was not greatly surprised as it was still early for morning walks. Contented to wait, he sat down on an ornate stone bench concealed partly by a thicket of trees. Though the bench proved hard and uncomfortable to sit upon for long periods, it did have the great advantage of offering a clear view of the gravel path Miss Bennet would travel along from the parsonage.
With an unknown wait ahead of him, Darcy's thoughts centred on exactly what his communication to Miss Bennet would be. Although he trusted her discretion above anyone's, if possible he planned to avoid mentioning anything of the unfortunate affair that concerned his sister last summer. It was painful for him to even recall; his failings as a brother and guardian had been made all too clear to him and he did not wish to test his ability to relay the truth with any façade of calm or composure.
Precise and logical to a fault, Darcy, during the time he had been managing his large estate, was rarely without a rational plan or sensible argument to assist him in conducting business to his liking with any of his tenants or associates. In this ignorance, he believed he needed only to lay bare the truth and present a reasonable and rational argument to have things his way. He did not account at all for the irrationality and volatile nature of personal feelings nor the prejudice they caused. Although a great oversight indeed, he could not be faulted as the method of dealing effectively with the emotions of others was one subject that Darcy, though an extremely well formed man of sense and education, had not the faintest clue.
As an only son for many years with loving but reserved parents, Darcy was rarely exposed to raw emotion, save for the terrible night when he watched his father's world crumble at his mother's death. Years later, after the passing of his father, Darcy, with assistance from his cousin had been most caring and protective of his younger sister, Georgiana. Thus, her closest family were two steady young men who loved her dearly, but they were indeed young men and consequently, neither could be the confidante of such a timid young lady.
Hence, due to his inexperience in dealing with emotions, particularly those of the female sex, Darcy considered the method of communicating the unpleasantness of Wickham, and the marriage proposal he would make, no different in essentials to how he would settle any matter of business. He intended to present to her a rational and sensible explanation of both matters and did not doubt of his success.
The morning wore on and just as he was beginning to worry that she did not plan to walk in the Park before noon he saw her approach from some distance. A sudden thought struck him and he wondered if he should quickly retreat and then return, so not to look like he had intended on a private interview with her or that he had been waiting several hours. Deciding this the best course of action, he quickly abandoned the copse along another path and after waiting until enough time had elapsed for her to enter the grove he walked back along the path he had just come. Drawing near her, he called out.
"Miss Bennet."
Her surprise at seeing him was evident. Polite greetings were exchanged between both parties and inquires to the health of the occupants of Rosings and Hunsford Parsonage were made respectively. Silence fell upon them as he took up walking next to her and Darcy felt he should soon begin to relate the truth about Wickham, while he had her to himself. He faltered at first, she looked beautiful, though somewhat less lively and subdued than he had seen her in the past, and he could not bare to give her pain. She seemed not inclined to talk so they walked amiably for a short while listening only to the tunes of the songbirds nestled in the trees.
After a time, he remarked on the pleasantness of the walk and she responded by relating again, as she had done previously, that this particular walk had become a favourite of hers. A warm, heartfelt delight spread inside of him and a small smile tugged at his lips from her discrete implication that she desired his company.
Darcy longed to skip the exposition of Wickham's character and declare himself immediately at such encouragement, but he resisted. Instead, he attempted to start a conversation that would lead him to the opportunity of discussing Wickham without breaching decorum.
"Have you any news from Hertfordshire since you came away Miss Bennet?"
"No, I have not. Excepting Jane, who as you know currently resides in London, my sisters are not reliable correspondents."
Her idle comment did not fail to wound him. He questioned whether he had acted honourably to his friend in concealing the elder Miss Bennet's whereabouts, but still believed wholeheartedly it was for Bingley's own good.
"But when you quitted the neighbourhood, I trust all of your acquaintances were in good health?"
"I believe so."
"I am happy to hear it," he replied.
She seemed not inclined to continue their discussion and Darcy had no choice but to venture a little closer to his desired topic than he wished.
"Are the militia still quartered in Meryton?"
She turned her head, looking up at him and he didn't fail to catch the surprised look upon her face before it was quickly concealed. "Yes, until summer at least."
"When you return to Hertfordshire, please be so kind as to convey my regards to Colonel Forster."
Darcy had no particular regard for the Colonel, indeed he could not recall talking to the man but briefly on one or two occasions. His only desire was to keep conversing on the militia until an avenue to discuss Wickham and his affairs eventuated.
"I should be more than happy too. Are there any other officers I should send on your regards to as well?" She inquired with an arched brow and a smirk that would be considered impertinent to all not wildly and passionately in love with her.
"No," he responded, more stiffly than he wished. He paused to collect his feelings and then continued smoothly. "Colonel Forster is a very gentlemanly man. Not as much can be said for every officer under his command."
He looked to see how she bore such a poorly veiled insult of Wickham, hoping that her expression might divulge the depth of her feelings for her reputed favourite.
He had little time for study however as a smile twisted at her lips as she quickly replied. "Yes, I agree with your assessment of the platitude. Even though the term is used to describe many, some men are far more deserving of the title of a 'gentleman,' while others are less so."
With this statement Miss Bennet looked up and awaited his response. Although Darcy found it extremely hard to be displeased with anything about her, he could not, even in his biased state, fail to realise that the subject of her derision was undoubtedly him.
Oh how he wanted to strangle that deceiving, good-for-nothing, wretch Wickham! He hadn't realised Miss Bennet had such a low opinion of him no doubt caused by despicable lies he had told her. Wickham's plan to hurt Darcy could not have been aimed with better precision. And if he was privy to the extent of anguish his childhood friend was currently experiencing, Wickham would rejoice in the outstanding success of his efforts. For what could pain Darcy more than his beloved Miss Elizabeth thinking ill of him?
"Miss Bennet, Mr. Wickham may pose as a congenial and honourable man, but I can assure you that he is neither a gentleman nor a man to be trusted."
He stopped walking then and faced her, watching as a wide range of emotions tumbled across her face. She coloured in shock, concern and disbelief before her eyes narrowed in anger.
"No, I do not believe it. My acquaintance with the gentleman may be brief in comparison to your own but I find him pleasant, friendly and extremely agreeable." Her stare hardened on him. "And I must add that not once have I seen him display any great weakness of character such as vanity or pride, for instance."
"I agree," said Darcy coolly, hoping to convey composure in his voice that he did not presently feel. "His failings are far more heavy in nature. He is immoral, dishonest and a more scheming, vindictive person I have not had the misfortune to meet."
She gasped, "On what grounds can you substantiate these claims?! I have heard too much of your own cruel and selfish character to believe anything without proof!"
Even she seemed a little stunned that her condemnation of him was so violent. Darcy, not accustomed to his word being questioned could not help but grow in anger.
"I was not aware that Mr. Wickham had so sullied my character that I require hard evidence before anything I utter be accepted for more than a despicable untruth," he growled darkly, willing his voice not to rise in volume. "I know not of what Mr. Wickham has informed you madam, but if you will sit, I shall endeavour to expose to you the truth of that man's past dealings."
Miss Bennet sat down on the stone bench to which he gestured, while Darcy looked off at the surrounding shrubbery, gathering his thoughts and grasping for composure.
"Mr. Wickham was the son of my late father's steward who managed our family estates until his death. Wickham and I were best of friends for many years and my father was quite fond of him and gave him a gentleman's education that his family were unable to afford. Through adolescence and then university I found myself growing away from him as I became more and more intimately acquainted with the man Wickham was proving himself, time and time again, to be. My dear father, not privy to the behaviour and transgressions of Wickham, loved him as a son, until he died. Unable to pain him, I did not ever expose or relate any of Wickham's behaviour."
Darcy turned away from the shrubbery and finally looked on Miss Bennet. Her expression betrayed neither belief nor incredulity, only a keen interest that he continue.
"My father had always hoped that Wickham would make the church his profession, and in his will requested that a living may become his as soon as it fell vacant. I was much relieved when Mr. Wickham came to me and professed no interest in the church, as I knew too much of his character to be easy with him as a vicar. Instead of the living, he requested, and was granted, the sum of three-thousand pounds."
Miss Bennet's eyes widened at this and she shook her head in what seemed like disbelief. Her expression was a mixture of deep confusion and shock; she opened her mouth as if poised to refute his claims but her lips closed again without uttering a word.
Darcy waited at length before continuing, allowing them both time to gather their feelings. Remorse gripped him, the pain he had caused her was more than evident. Regardless of his assertions, to learn that her apparent favourite had been deceitful and purposely misled her must be shocking. To make matters worse, Darcy knew that his own anger for the man was influencing his address. Instead of being kind and compassionate, his words and manner had been harsh and completely unsympathetic to the turbulent emotions she must be feeling.
Attempting to speak in a softer voice he continued his narration, "I do not know of Mr. Wickham's activities during the intermittent three years, though I could hazard a fairly accurate guess. In January last year Mr. Wickham wrote to me repeatedly with increasing agitation growing to violent abuse that I abide by my father's wishes and allow him to be ordained post haste. I had no trouble believing his circumstances to be particularly bad, but refused to give in to his demands or assist him in any manner. I hope you will acquit me of cruelty towards him."
Deeply concerned about the state of her feelings he finished gently, "I have heard that Mr. Wickham was a favourite among many of the Meryton young ladies. I hope that their attachments were not strong and the pain is no more than fleeting."
Much to his surprise Miss Bennet replied quickly and with force, as soon as his last word had left his breath. "No, I do not believe it. I asked you to provide evidence Mr. Darcy and I have received none. Therefore, I must use other methods to decide which gentleman to believe and I justify my decision based on the actions and past behaviour of each I have witnessed myself."
Astounded that she still refused to believe him despite presenting her with the truth, he cried out with great feeling, "You speak of justice Madam, but you have been anything but! Your partiality for that rogue has coloured your judgement and completely prejudiced you against me!"
"Nay, it is not my partisanship that has sunk your assertions with me, but your own ungentleman-like manner."
Darcy started at this, completely stunned by her charge.
"Why should I believe the truth from a man who, since the very first moment of our acquaintance, has displayed nothing but arrogance, conceit and selfish disdain for the feelings of others? To this I must add another offence; can you deny that you have been the means of ruining the happiness, perhaps forever, of my dearest sister? Your actions have felled the most kind-hearted lady in the world with a most acute misery. Can you deny this?"
"I have no wish to deny it!" He replied with strong conviction, deeply offended by all her attacks on his character. "His affection was obvious and, I believe, far greater than your sisters'. I acted in Bingley's best interest."
"Not only do you have the audacity to presume to know dear Jane's feelings, you also decide what is in your friend's best interest, do you?" She asked, eyeing him haughtily.
To this he could think of no reply. On the first offence he had made an impartial conviction but on the second, he was not so innocent. Darcy knew he looked after Bingley more than he ought, however Miss Bennet saved him the trouble of finding any defence.
"Please excuse me, there is nothing more to be said." She stood, clearly wanting to leave his presence but Darcy moved quickly blocking her path. He could not let her leave like this, so full of hate and despising him.
"Please, Miss Bennet, I am not yet done."
"Sir, I can hear no more."
"Stay," he pressed. "I cannot let you leave just yet."
"I must!" She insisted, attempting to move past him but he blocked her path once more.
"You abhor me because I have apparently destroyed the happiness of your sister. We are not so dissimilar; I hate Wickham because he succeeded in ruining my sister's innocence and very nearly destroyed her own life and happiness forever."
She looked up at him, concerned. She seemed to waver over whether to stay or go but finally gave him her attention.
"Last summer Mr. Wickham, unbeknownst to me, met up with my sister at Ramsgate, where she and her companion were lodged, and persuaded her to believe herself in love with him. They planned to elope and it was not but for the grace of God I happened to join her there and she acknowledged the plan to me at once. His design was of course on her fortune of 30 000 pounds and secondly, I assume, to revenge himself on me. Georgiana was a shy and innocent girl of but fifteen years. The effects on her timid disposition were devastating; this past year has been exceedingly difficult for her. I ask that you consult with Colonel Fitzwilliam if you are unable to trust me. He can corroborate these events and is privy to all of Wickham's misdeeds."
Darcy's emotions were in such a state that he found himself no longer able to hold his composure. He turned and looked away from her; unable to bare the sight of the woman he loved so dearly looking on him with mistrust. A deep anguish burned in his chest and sadness welled in his heart. This was when he planned to propose to her, he recalled. He had meant to console her by offering his hand he thought, repulsed by his pride and ashamed and disgusted with himself. How blind and foolish had he been?! So thoroughly concerned with only himself he had failed to notice that the object of his passions detested him. Darcy's shoulders slumped as the full weight of his despair hit him; his dreams and hopes for a future with Elizabeth now lay tattered at his feet. There would be no proposal today or any day.
Just like Wickham had injured him, he had done the same to Elizabeth: destroyed her sister's happiness.
His struggles and concerns in considering her as a future wife these past few weeks were completely absurd. He was not so far above her station at all, he realised.
It was he that did not deserve her.
A soft weeping turned his head and he saw Miss Bennet crying quietly into her handkerchief. She almost buckled and sat back down onto the bench, but he could not comfort her. She was crying for the loss of another man.
A long time passed before he could speak, and when he did, his voice was raw, and it cracked with emotion. "It was not my object to hurt you today Miss Bennet. Indeed, nothing in the world has ever pained me so much than to have made you cry. I wanted to reveal him before he could hurt you but I have another reason for exposing him that is far more selfish. I did not want to see you as his wife, as I could not bear to think of you as anyone's but my own."
He could not meet her eyes, afraid that the shock and disgust, which must be evident, would tear him in two. Instead, he bowed gravely without taking his eyes from his boots and then left her, and all his hopes of their life together, within the copse of trees.
With great enthusiasm he devoted the afternoon to matters of business and correspondence from his estate. Afterwards he wrote letters to Georgiana, his uncle, the Earl of Matlock, Bingley and other acquaintances too numerous to mention. His dedication to writing lasted until it was time to dress for dinner and, after the meal, he quickly challenged his cousin to billiards and then chess. The competition was, as always, fierce and held his concentration well into the night.
At last Colonel Fitzwilliam begged off another match reminding Darcy of tomorrow's journey and they retired to their rooms. His last thoughts before succumbing to rest were not surprisingly of her, however the late hour and significant amount of brandy Darcy had consumed led him quickly and thankfully into a deep sleep. The few hours left before dawn granted him a desperately needed reprieve from the deep ache and heavy misery upon his heart. Misery that he had so studiously, but unsuccessfully, tried to ignore.
Mr. Collins, puffing with exertion trotted up to Darcy just as they were ready to enter the carriage and be off for town the next morning. He had come purposely to pay his respects to his patroness' nephews before they left and dwelled repeatedly on Darcy's genteel civility, the likes of which he had never seen before, save for of course, in the manners and style of the illustrious gentleman's Aunt.
The clergyman did offer one useful piece of information during his long speech thus preventing Darcy's impatience due to the delay and annoyance at Mr. Collins' superfluous and absurd toadying from growing resentful. The Colonel had given his cousin's regrets to the Collins' and their guests when he visited the parsonage to take leave of them yesterday afternoon. In truth, Darcy had completely forgotten about every inhabitant of that house, save one, and was much indebted to Richard for making apologies for him.
Once Darcy had freed himself from Mr. Collins' undue praises and compliments they were finally away and not a moment too soon for his liking. As the carriage sped towards town and the miles separating him and Rosings grew, Darcy did not feel the relief he had expected. The Colonel attempted conversation on a number subjects, but Darcy, in no mood for idle talk, supplied only succinct answers and his cousin took the hint without comment.
Darcy tried to concentrate on his book, but with such inner turmoil he found it far beyond his present capabilities to pay it the attention it deserved. Instead, he found himself watching the green hills and valleys pass by, though if pressed he could give no accurate description of the landscape. His mind wandered to and fro but returned to her and their dreadful exchange in the woods with an alarming frequency. Immediately, he banished her from his mind and declared for the umpteenth time, in the space of half a day, that he would not think of her again.
On arriving in town, Georgiana's obvious joy in seeing him lifted his spirits like nothing else. She greeted him with a smile and a hug in the entrance hall as soon as he had deposited his hat and coat with the footman. At once she asked after her Kent relations and proceeded to chatter animatedly about her London friends and acquaintances in sharp contrast to her subdued, almost silent countenance of the previous months.
Their cousin stayed and dined with them and after dinner Georgiana played and sang the new sheet music she had purchased during her brother's absence. Darcy, who once, many years ago, had the great honour of being labelled quite proficient at the cello by Lady Catherine, knew something of the intricacies of music and listened with admiration to his sister's masterful command of the instrument.
She had grown so much in these last two years he hardly recognised the young woman before him. In his eyes, Georgiana would always be the little angel-haired girl he had watched grow from a tiny baby in his mother's arms. In a year or two she would make her debut in society; a moment that Darcy both anticipated with brotherly pride and feared with dread. He doubted if any man could possibly cherish and protect her the way she deserved, or be worthy of her kind and loving nature.
Before long Richard pleaded fatigue and said goodnight with a firm handshake for his elder cousin and a bow to both of them before departing for Lord Matlock's townhouse. Georgiana's spirits did not much outlast those of the Colonel's, as soon after she bid her brother goodnight and retired to her room.
Intent on finding something to occupy his thoughts lest they begin to stray anywhere near that particular young lady of Hertfordshire, Darcy visited the library for reading material before he too retired to his chambers.
But as he had come to learn in the past two days, banishing someone from your mind whom over the preceding few months was almost constantly in your thoughts was not easily done.
"Blast!" he swore, slamming the book shut and extinguishing the candle at his bedside. It was of no use; the more he tried not to think of her, the more often she popped up in his mind and the more vividly he saw her face, her hatred and disgust of him plainly evident. Finally, he allowed all the desolation and emotion he had been trying to ignore wash over him. With a wretched sigh, he lay down on his back and stared up into the darkness, wide-awake.
Her accusations resounded in his head: he was arrogant, conceited and disdainful of others. When he examined his past behaviour for the accuracy of her charges his mortification only mounted. Throughout his entire stay in Hertfordshire he had been full of pride; he had thought meanly of the country people's sense and worth and extended them only the barest scrap of civility. Then a realisation far more troubling arrested him, it wasn't just the vulgarity of this particular neighbourhood that had brought out the worst in him. With great repugnance, he realised that his manner had been fixed like that, at least in the company of those outside his intimate acquaintance, for many, many years.
How could she, how could anyone, think well of him if he had not bothered to exhibit anything but the worst sides of his character?
He ached. Both his heart and his mind mourned in anguish, deprived of her charming manner, sharp mind and stunning wit. It hurt him to recall how he had last seen her. The last image he would ever have of her in his mind was one with her face washed with tears and her back stooped from sobbing. He had thought at the time she was crying for Wickham's plunge in her esteem, but of that he had no proof. It was just as likely that despite his revelations involving Georgiana she did not believe him. She was so doubtful of his character that it was more than possible she did not believe a word.
Therefore, she might still be planning to go back to Hertfordshire and encourage Wickham's advances. For once Darcy was consumed with anguish at this thought not for the purely selfish reason of wanting her for himself, but because she would be miserable throughout her life once Wickham's true character revealed itself. And whose fault would that be but his very own? For if he were not so disagreeable she would have believed his assertions instead of Wickham's. It was his duty to warn her and it was his own actions had undermined his credibility.
While Miss Bennet was still taken in by Wickham's lies he had not done enough and he would not rest easy until Wickham was exposed to the world for what he truly was. With this resolve, exhaustion overcame him and a fitful rest, filled with images of his dearest, his loveliest Elizabeth, saw him through till the break of day.
Colonel Fitzwilliam's surprise at seeing Darcy the following morning, so soon after their return from Kent, was obvious. Although Lady Matlock was a genteel woman and, without a doubt, Darcy's favourite Aunt, he was glad to find her about to go out just as he arrived at her husband's townhouse. Thus he did not first have to sit and take tea before he could talk to her younger son in private. He spoke with his aunt briefly, learning that her husband was out attending to his business and that he could find Richard partaking of a late breakfast in the dining room.
"Hello there Darcy," the Colonel said jovially, but was unable to hide the look of curiosity in his expression. "Do sit down."
Darcy returned the greeting and took his invitation to be seated at the breakfast table.
"I know it has. . ." Fitzwilliam checked his timepiece, "gone ten and it is of no use inviting you to breakfast with me. Knowing you as well as I do cousin, you ate with the crowing of the roosters this morning. So then, please allow me to offer you some tea."
Darcy nodded in acquiescent and a moment later a servant set down an elegant teacup and saucer in front of him at her master's direction. No doubt inferring that Darcy's unexpected visit was of some importance Fitzwilliam dismissed the servants from the room. Darcy sat quietly, examining a large landscape painting on the opposite wall and ignored the weight of his cousin's eyes on him.
He had been eager to get to his uncle's townhouse this morning as soon as he had risen. Despite being well acquainted with the Colonel's usual habit of rising late, he found himself ready to leave his own house far too early -- unless he planned on rapping on his chamber door and ordering Richard out of bed before conferencing with him.
But now that he was in his cousin's company and had piqued his curiosity through his unexpected visit, Darcy was having difficulty deciding what exactly he should communicate, or rather, what he should not. The mockery and insult his pride had received from Miss Bennet was nothing compared to the humbling realisation he had experienced last night. Still though, he was not so totally devoid of pride that he did not wish to avoid exposing any of those ardent feelings, that he had been completely and utterly inept at showing the lady in question, to his cousin.
Indecisiveness did not sit well with him and he spoke, eager to begin before much time had passed.
"Do you remember teasing Miss Bennet about a suitor a few days ago in Hunsford?" He asked abruptly, breaking the silence that has settled between them.
The Colonel placed a forkful of food back down on the side of his plate, and replied with a slight frown, trying to recall the memory. "Yes, I remember."
Darcy nodded, and then paused. He took a sip of his tea and said, trying for an air of indifference that would in no way fool his cousin, "The man Mrs. Collins was referring to is George Wickham."
"No?" Richard gasped. "Are you sure of this?"
"Without a doubt. I met him quite by accident when I was with Bingley in Hertfordshire. He has joined the Militia. A regiment was stationed in a township very near to my friend's estate."
"What is the Colonel of the regiment's name?" he asked, placing his napkin on the table, the voracious appetite that was present only moments before seemingly gone.
"Forster. Do you know of him?"
"Not well. We have been introduced but briefly I believe."
Darcy said nothing in reply, preferring to wait until Fitzwilliam caught hold of his plan without having to explain.
They traded long glances and finally his cousin said, "You would have me write to a man I barely know and explain that one of his officers is not as amiable and honourable as his manners express. That despite appearances, he cannot be trusted and should be vigilantly supervised, although I can not possibly give any explanation why."
"What else is there to be done?" replied Darcy more gruffly than he had intended. "I refuse to sit here idly with the information I possess and wonder what his intentions are. That man should not be welcomed into polite society, let alone marry Miss Bennet."
He was afraid of Wickham's corrupt nature and what he might be capable of. Clearly, he had already used Miss Bennet for revenge against him and Darcy could not rule out that he might exact further vengeance and even go as far as ruining her completely.
"Why did you not say this in Kent? Your acquaintance might have allowed you to warn her of him."
Darcy met his cousin's eyes briefly and looked away. "Because she has been completely deceived by his good manners. She believes him to be all that is amiable. How could any kind of communication be well received? Any such plan would have been foolhardy in the extreme," he replied, dejection unwittingly seeping into his voice.
Fitzwilliam nodded, agreeing with Darcy's assessment. "It seems a foregone conclusion then. I will write to Colonel Forster at once as long as you satisfy my curiosity by answering one question." The Colonel slowed, as if testing his words in this mind before he spoke them to his cousin. "If it were anyone other than Miss Bennet who had caught his eye dear cousin, would you be in such a rush to involve ourselves in his dealings again?"
So taken aback by the Colonel's astute assessment of his interest in the affair, for one of the few times in his life, Darcy was completely at a loss for words. He wished to deny it vehemently but feared his good friend, as close to him as any real brother might have been, would see through his feeble attempts at once.
Fortunately, his cousin took great pity on him.
"Please excuse me Fitzwilliam," said the Colonel solemnly. "Where ever your motivations lie, they are none of my concern, save the strengthening of my faith in your honour. You would consider it your duty to prevent any lady of polite society falling prey to that cunning villain, regardless of her name, I am sure. Not many gentlemen would do so much."
Darcy nodded but was uncomfortable with the level of faith his cousin placed in him. He could not be so sure that if it had been any other lady but Miss Elizabeth would he have already done as much. No, there was little doubt. He was acting for her happiness he believed, and indirectly his own. Despite understanding, but not reconciled to the fact that there could never be a union between them, his own happiness had become so unintentionally linked to hers that unless he believed her totally secure in her happiness, his own would never rise above that of a most gloomy nature.
And he refused to believe that she could ever be truly happy with such a man as Wickham.
Darcy watched as a sly grin slid across Richard's face as his cousin rose from the table having completed his meal. "I will abide by my promise not to pry into your affairs but you must allow me to say this," said the Colonel trying to fight off a grin. "I do not think you could choose a better lady to be the champion of Darcy. It is the lot of a second son to be envious of his older brother's position, or cousin's in this case, and I shall endeavour to conceal my jealousy tolerably well."
"No, you misunderstand. I, that is-"
The Colonel laughed at his inarticulate response and beckoned Darcy to follow him to his study.
A letter was written and posted from the Matlock's house for Hertfordshire that very morning. His cousin gave his word that he would contact Darcy as soon as he received a reply from Colonel Forster and that he would keep him updated on any events. Bidding his cousin good day, Darcy returned home.
Despite succeeding in his task of establishing a method of monitoring Wickham, he felt restless and dissatisfied. He knew he had done all he could for the moment, save returning to Hertfordshire himself and calling the man out, but Darcy still struggled with the helplessness of his present position. Oh, if only his explanation to her in Kent had not been so totally incompetent, if he had approached with more caution and diplomacy, rather than allowing his own hatred to colour his assertions, she might have believed him!
No, he recalled, the manner of his conversation had very little to do with it. His actions so full of pride, self-importance and in every way disagreeable had destroyed his chances of convincing her long before he had begun the subject.
All of the dejection and sorrow he presently felt was squarely his own doing. Darcy knew he may not have the happy manners that enable some to effortlessly make themselves agreeable to all, but his decision to offer only the barest civility to those he thought beneath him, was a far greater blow to his manner than shyness.
Although he had only seen them together once for but a moment, based on his knowledge of Wickham and the time he had devoted to studying her, he could imagine the way Miss Bennet had responded to his unassuming and cordial nature. Wickham was easy and welcomed into any society, where he was uncomfortable in a roomful of strangers and barely tolerated in Hertfordshire. To his advantage, Darcy's old friend could engage anyone in conversation and appear interested in his or her concerns while Darcy was more often than not awkward around people who he was not intimately acquainted; his shyness rendered his manner and conversation forced and unintentionally cool.
Wickham had every skill and affability at his disposal to make oneself completely agreeable: Darcy did not. And Wickham had used his talents and lively arts to garner Miss Bennet's affection, while on every occasion they had met, Darcy's actions had done nothing but strengthen her opinion of him as proud and ill mannered. Of that he was sure.
With a sigh, he settled back and attempted to relax in his favourite wingback chair of his study. The soft leather was today hard and uncomfortable and his mind was in such turmoil as to make reading intolerable. Restless and irritated he poured himself a snifter of brandy to relax and forcibly reminded himself many times that afternoon, that for the moment he had done all that was possible. He had, however inept his delivery, personally disclosed all of Wickham's misdeeds to Miss Bennet and now taken it upon himself to get word of Wickham's true character to Colonel Forster, but without mentioning any of the particulars.
There was nothing that would please Darcy more than to see that man publicly exposed and shunned from society, but while he desired to keep Georgiana's youthful folly a secret, so must Wickham's attempts to ensnare her be as well. His hands were tied. While he kept silent about Wickham in all probability Elizabeth was falling more and more in love with him. But if he exposed Wickham then Georgiana's reputation would be blackened before she even made her debut.
However disturbed and restless from inaction, Darcy was forced to be content that for the moment, he had done everything in his power to expose Wickham before it was too late. If he had any hope that she might lessen her ill opinion of him when the facts came to light, he did not admit them to himself, but desired only to ensure that she was no longer deceived. Her actions and feelings towards that scoundrel after he had been revealed were then, Darcy told himself, none of his business and none of his concern.
On his second evening returned to town, Darcy slept more hours than he had in the preceding two nights combined. Although decidedly less fitful, the time between midnight and dawn were still filled with visions and imaginings of Elizabeth smiling, laughing and loving him. When he woke, those almost tangible dreams flitted away in the dull morning light of his room, leaving him unable to muster his usual energy and eagerness to rise quickly and begin a new day. Instead, lethargy had settled deep in his bones and he spent several minutes absently staring up at the canopy of his great bed.
With quiet reflection he noted that his regrets and dull spirits had not dissipated overnight and, if anything, he had become well settled in his discontent. A period of disappointment was to be expected after such a resounding dashing of his wishes and he hoped that it would pass before long. He prayed it would, it had only been three days hence and the anguish he held in his heart was like nothing he had ever felt.
He had spent too much time thinking and dreaming of her since autumn; imagining her at Pemberley and by his side always. Playing with their children in the nursery by day and by night he dreamt of her curled up in his arms. Groaning, he rubbed his sleepy eyes and yawned, extremely fatigued despite the youth of the day. He had to stop thinking about her.
He had spent all of winter trying to banish her from his mind and failed miserably. Even now when all of his desires of a match between them were lost, he hoped but doubted, that this latest effort to forget her would have greater success.
Since last November she had quietly and effortlessly secured herself a prominent position in his mind he found himself thinking of her for long moments before he even realised the nature of his thoughts. Countless times he had found himself reading a novel or a poem, attending a concert or listening to the conversation of others and wondering what she would think, of what her opinion would be. Did she prefer Donne to Wordsworth or enjoy Shakespeare's sonnets above all? With her musical ear, would she think the violinist's performance was as perfect as less talented members of the audience proclaimed? Or were their opinions fundamentally flawed, tainted by inferior understanding and ego?
He sighed, and resigned himself to the fact that he would never know.
If he could not control the unintentional wanderings of head than he could at least cease indulging in extended and now completely unrealistic flights of fancy of her as his wife. This resolve brought new energy and he quickly rose from his bed and began the day.
After spending much of the morning shut up with his secretary and his business affairs, Darcy looked forward to his and Georgiana's dinner engagement at the Bingley's with more enthusiasm than the invitation usually lent. Not that he was ever disinclined to his good friend's company, but that such evenings were often so meticulously mastered by the hostess that in the end, he would spend more time with Miss Bingley than her brother. No matter how large or intimate the party, Darcy was assured a place at dinner within distance for easy conversation with Miss Bingley and frequently a seat at her card table.
It had been above a month since he had last seen Bingley and he was anxious to discern for himself whether his friend's spirits had improved. Since December Bingley had been quiet and far less lively than Darcy had ever known him. Attributing it to a disappointment that was natural in the circumstances and knowing his friend as he did, Darcy felt it would soon lift.
By January Bingley had not improved and when Miss Bennet came to town Darcy concealed it, hopeful that his friend had only a few more days of sullen spirits left in him. Convinced that if Bingley was kept away from the young lady he would soon recover, Darcy congratulated himself on his good judgment and worth to his friend when he departed for Kent. If the concealment was beneath him, he comforted himself in thinking that before long, Bingley would be eager to go out in society and fall quickly in love again, just as he had seen many times in the past.
The ride to the Bingley's was not long, but Darcy was able to discern some discomfort in his sister's countenance while the carriage slowly traversed through light rain along the wet streets of London.
"Georgiana, is something the matter?"
She looked up at him sharply. The deep worry etched across her features caused his heart to jump, alarmed by her grave expression. She broke their eye contact and she looked down again shaking her head unwilling to say.
Darcy was about to entreat that she tell him at once so he might fix whatever was the matter but she blurted out her troubles, before he was given the chance.
"Will Miss Bingley have many guests tonight Brother?"
Relief washed over him, thankful that nothing was truly wrong and, having had this conversation with Georgiana several times before, he got to the crux of the matter without delay.
"I do not know. I hope that the size of the party will not discourage you from playing, should Miss Bingley invite you to perform."
The girl visibly shuddered. "Shall I have to? I do not think I can in front of strangers."
For not the first time Darcy wondered if he had tried to begin easing Georgiana into society before she was ready. She would not be out for at least another two or three seasons but Darcy had taken to allowing her to dine with him and his guests when he occasionally hosted a small party in town and also to accompany him to dinner at Bingley's. She was on the most intimate terms with Miss Bingley, yet she was still frightened at performing in her friend's house. He looked across the carriage at his sister; her brows drawn in concern and her eyes, large and fearful in the pale light, made her seem so very young.
"No my dear, you needn't play if you do not wish, though I would take great delight in hearing you. If the party is small I hope you will choose to play; you have played wonderfully for Mr. Bingley and his sisters at Pemberley. Do you recall?"
"Yes, but at home I am comfortable. At another instrument I fear I will make simple mistakes," she bit her lip and then spoke, her voice raw with feeling. "I would do anything rather than disgrace you again brother."
Without a moment's hesitation Darcy stood and quickly swapped seats so that he was now beside his sister in the carriage rather than facing her. He took her hand in his.
"Dear sister, oh my sweet girl, you have never disgraced me, never. I am so proud of everything that you are. Your accomplishments are without equal for a girl your age but even if you could not play a note or carry a melody, my heart would still be filled with pride. You are a kind, loving and generous girl beyond measure."
"No, you are too good. Did I not already very nearly ruin us both? You saved me, yet you have never again censured me. I do not deserve such a wonderful brother as you," with this she began to cry a little and Darcy begged for her to stop before she began to weep in full.
"Hush, hush Georgiana. I fear that no matter what I may say, you will not absolve yourself. But understand it is I who am to be blamed. You were so young and that must be your excuse while I must feel it in its entirety. I did not care for you as I should have. If I had done my proper duty as your guardian and brother I would have been wary of Mrs. Young and not employed her. It is my fault."
"But you could not have known!"
"But I should have," he replied softly. As he took his sister in his arms and hugged her to him the carriage came to a stop.
Smiling gently, he bent his head and kissed her cheek and then said, "Let us quarrel no more but enjoy a pleasant evening."
Darcy was gratified to see Georgiana reply with a small smile, her worry temporally defeated.
He touched her cheek with his thumb and then exited the carriage. A moment later he handed her out. Gone was the delicate and troubled girl, replaced by a softly spoken and graceful young lady with shy, though pleasing manners and a serene smile.
When inside, the large smile Darcy bestowed upon his hosts was not born of necessity or politeness but from love, pride and the joy he received in escorting his sister, a most excellent and elegant young woman, on his arm.
A Mrs. Henrietta Dwyer and her daughter Miss Adelaide occupied two extra places set at Miss Bingley's table that night. The Hursts made the party an intimate eight and Darcy could not help but be relieved that it was not any larger, preventing both the incitement of unease in his sister and discomfort in himself.
Miss Dwyer was a new friend of Miss Bingley's and her design in inviting her young friend and her mother to dine was obvious. Fashionable, wealthy and exceptionally pretty Miss Dwyer would undoubtedly, in Miss Bingley's opinion, be an ideal match for her brother.
Darcy, in his mind, had often likened Miss Bingley's strategic arrangement of guests at her table to a masterful battle plan. He was, of course next to Miss Bingley who was at the foot of the table, and on her other side was Georgiana. He assumed that to his hostess, this had several advantages. Firstly, as they were seated adjacently her conversation must always include him, and his her. Secondly, she knew that he did not want to be seated far from his sister and finally that by conversing with Georgiana and promoting their friendship she was anything but injuring herself to him.
In the middle were Hurst and Mrs. Dwyer successfully kept away from the head of the table where Mrs. Hurst did her best to promote conversation and further the acquaintance between Bingley and Miss Dwyer.
It was in design, an excellent scheme.
But as is all too commonly found reality will often defy even the most logical theory. Darcy took great interest in observing his friend and Miss Dwyer before and during dinner. Bingley was polite and gentlemanly to a fault but to those of his intimate acquaintance it was clear that he was lacking in both his good humour and his usual engaging manners.
Darcy looked away from his friend and contemplated the meal before him. The venison was exquisite, but he had no taste for it while his friend's worrisome behaviour troubled him.
Bingley was not happy. Before last autumn, Bingley would have been all too delighted to spend an evening in such company as Miss Dwyer. Darcy had caught a little of her conversation before and during dinner; her opinions were informed and her manner graceful. As she was Miss Bingley's friend some airs and stateliness were to be expected but they did not override her good qualities. Still, from what Darcy observed, Bingley did not seem at all inclined to extend her any attention above that he would normally supply to any of his guests.
It was with a sinking dread that Darcy now acknowledged what he would not before. After the passing of four months he could hardly continue to deny that Bingley's attachment to Miss Bennet was ephemeral in nature. Much to his chagrin, it seemed that his friend's affection was far greater than he had assumed. Or hoped.
When he anticipated that Bingley would quickly fall out of love on his return to town, it was an assumption based on his friend's past behaviour and previous minor flirtations with young ladies. If he did wish to leave Hertfordshire for his own interests, Darcy reassured himself that any of those feelings did not influence his decisions in Bingley's affairs. He hoped.
Looking back on his ill-judged conference with Elizabeth, had she not said that he had single-handedly destroyed Miss Bennet's happiness? Had he been wrong in his assessment of the lady's feelings as well as his friend's?
All of his reasons for separating the couple were now called into question. Miss Elizabeth's information, assuming it was correct, and how, as the lady in question's closest confidant, could she be doubted, undermined his belief that Miss Bennet had not been in love with Bingley. Had he only seen what he had desired? The thought did not sit well with him but he had no time to consider it.
Bingley's steady affection could not be doubted and Darcy himself had completely disregarded the concerns he had of the family's impropriety and their low connections. If he could condescend to consider connecting himself to the Bennet's then how could he, but with the greatest hypocrisy, now refuse his friend to do the same? Every point of sense and reason that he had used in convincing Bingley not to return to Hertfordshire was now faulty. And he conceded, that if his reasoning was correct than despite his beliefs last November, he had acted in anything but his friend's best interests.
This realisation rocked Darcy. So upsetting was it to his equilibrium, he became plagued with self-doubt and ate only the barest amount of the remaining courses. His judgment, which he had for so long prided himself on as being impartial, judicial and sound, had now been proven woefully defective twice in less than a week. Only days ago he had thought that Miss Bennet would be anticipating his proposals while her true opinion of him had been quite the reverse. And now, his realisation that he had caused nothing but pain to his friend for the last four months hurt him greatly and slashed his self-confidence to shreds.
If he had been so dreadfully wrong about the feelings of the woman he loved and his best friend, things that should have been evident as he had engaged in the office of determining them both, then what else had he so foolishly blundered? The possibilities were endless. With this gloomy knowledge, Darcy suffered through the rest of dinner.
Darcy knew that his mistakes must be rectified, but the present evening was not appropriate for such a serious disclosure and in any case would not provide the necessary privacy.
Bingley had been uncommonly reticent with him and Hurst after the ladies departed from the dining room. Of all the times the three men were alone, Bingley had always acted as the common denominator between Darcy and Hurst; two men who could not be of different characters or have less to say to one another for so many reasons.
Tonight though, Bingley abandoned his duties as host after serving his guests port and offering barely a few words as a necessary propriety for conversation. No longer able to bear being alone with his thoughts bent on self-flagellation, Darcy made attempts at drawing Bingley out. After receiving only necessary replies to his inquires and nearly at his wit's end, Darcy asked Hurst about the quality of shooting when he was lately in Scarborough.
Hurst managed to report favourably on the shooting, though Darcy was a loss as to how the man had even heard his question; so full with food and good wine he had appeared almost asleep at the table.
When it appeared that the conversation would lapse between them once more, Darcy told them idly of his trip into Kent. His relations were in good health, his cousin Fitzwilliam was, as always, in good humour and he added that while staying at Rosings he had renewed his acquaintance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who was also visiting that part of Kent.
While he did not wish to give his friend pain by reminding him of that family, Darcy did want final assurance that one member of the Bennet's was the reason for his depressed spirits. If it were true, than news of her younger sister could be only second to news of Miss Bennet herself.
The effect of his words on Bingley was extraordinary. His whole countenance changed and he regarded Darcy with the utmost interest.
"And was Miss Bennet in good health?" Bingley asked with more real eagerness than politeness.
"Yes," he replied. Darcy could not help but remember as he had last seen her: lively and vigorously telling him what for. "She appeared in excellent health."
Bingley seem poised to further his inquiry, but when his eye met Darcy's he seem to change his mind. Darcy wondered if he had intended on asking if he knew anything about Elizabeth's family, particularly Miss Bennet, but suddenly lost his nerve.
Darcy, feeling something very close to contrite, offered the information himself and was hardly uninterested in seeing Bingley's reaction.
"She mentioned that all of her family and every one of our Hertfordshire acquaintances were in good health on her last occasion of seeing them," said Darcy.
Bingley thanked him quite heartily for passing on the news of their Hertfordshire friends. He noted that it had been quite some time since they were in that part of the country and before much longer suggested that they rejoin the ladies.
On entering the drawing room Darcy made his way to the settee and sat down by his sister. She smiled on seeing him and the two sat quietly without a word until Mrs. Dwyer sat down next to Georgiana and engaged her in conversation on the season's latest fashions. Luckily, Mrs. Dwyer was a talkative woman and so was neither offended nor pitiful of the quiet and short responses of her companion.
Talk of lace and hemlines could offer no interest to Darcy and so he adopted the occupation of observing his companions for the evening.
Hurst had taken up residence next to the fire with a large decanter of wine. He seemed fairly alert but Darcy knew from experience that his eyes would soon start to lower in tandem with the receding level of alcohol.
After she had finished serving her guests tea, Miss Bingley sat with Miss Dwyer. Soon after Mrs. Hurst rose and switched seats to place herself nearby and then called her brother to join them.
Darcy knew that while perhaps not as clever as himself, Bingley's mind was in no way deficient and he could hardly fail to notice that his sister's were doing all they could to forward the acquaintance between him and Miss Dwyer. To his credit, Bingley showed Miss Dwyer every civility and did not once grow impatient with his sisters' efforts.
After the tea things were taken away Miss Bingley invited Miss Dwyer to open up the instrument. Darcy could not help the smile that twitched at his lips upon hearing Georgiana's sigh of relief.
A veteran of drawing room performances, Darcy had heard many young ladies of society play. Most were proficient and skilled musicians but unless there was truly something unique about their performance one blended into another. He remembered only a handful of young ladies' particular exhibitions. Most he recalled for their exquisite and masterful command of the pianoforte or harp; truly talented musicians whose performance gave him real pleasure. And then there was another young lady, whom he remembered not for her musicianship, though she did play well, or her voice, despite it being as beautiful as he had ever heard, but that because he had never been so enraptured, so bewitched by any woman as he had been by her.
When she had sung, he had heard not the voice of an angel, but the call of a siren, luring him to her with a power he was unable, nay unwilling to fight.
Miss Dwyer's performance was not memorable but her talent was by no means limited. When she had played and sung twice, Miss Bingley offered the instrument to Georgiana.
At first she declined, but when Miss Bingley pressed her a second time, and she accepted without hesitation, Darcy had scarcely ever been more surprised.
She played only one song and did not sing, but twice this evening his young sister had impressed him with her grace and courage. Georgiana was growing to be a remarkable young woman and though it would be sometime before she could make her debut, Darcy wondered if it was at all possible that he would be more proud of her then, than he had been tonight.
The following morning Darcy visited Bingley and quickly communicated all that he had done to prevent him from making an attachment to Miss Bennet. Bingley's surprise rendered him speechless and so after confessing that he had participated in keeping Miss Bennet's presence in town a secret, Darcy could do nothing but wait in silent agony for his friend's response.
That he had acted dishonourably was now beyond doubt in Darcy's mind. When he had believed Miss Bennet to be indifferent to his friend last November and tried to prevent Bingley from making an unfortunate mistake, his actions had been misguided but not deceitful. However, when he knew of Miss Bennet having come to town and then purposely concealed it, he had been dreadfully high handed. He had been wrong to interfere; both in town and in persuading him not to return to the country.
Darcy did not know whether to expect a vehement reproof or silent contempt from his friend but in the end neither came about. Bingley was at first only confused and scarcely able to believe what Darcy had said. He then requested that his friend repeat himself in an irked and incredulous manner which, Darcy supposed, was probably as close to angry that Bingley had ever found himself.
He was sincere in his apology and, with a few reassurances that while Darcy was in Kent Miss Elizabeth herself might have mentioned something that made him wonder if Miss Jane Bennet did still think of him, Bingley heartily forgave him. Needing only the slightest encouragement from Darcy, he then penned a short missive to his housekeeper. Netherfield was to be reopened as its master would be returning as soon as may be.
Bingley invited Darcy to return to Hertfordshire with him but he was quick and definite in his refusal. Although, if he returned he could keep a watchful eye upon Wickham himself, his acquaintanceship with the Bennet's and Miss Elizabeth could not be ignored. But the idea of them meeting regularly in company after all that had happened was absurd in the extreme. She had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing more to do with him while they had quarrelled, and then, adding insult to injury, he had foolishly blurted out that he had intended to propose to her. Thus, any polite interaction or discourse between them was completely impossible.
Rather than betraying anything that had happened between him and Elizabeth, Darcy spoke about it being so long a time since he and his sister had been at Pemberley to remove any doubt that he might be persuaded to visit Netherfield.
Before Darcy left for home, he invited Bingley as well as his sister and the Hursts to dine with him and Georgiana the following evening. The invitation was accepted and the two friends parted on good terms.
On his return home he could think of little but his very good fortune in having a so forgiving and unassuming friend that he did in Bingley. Another man could easily have not been so understanding and but for Bingley's exceptionally good temper, their acquaintance might not have overcome his absurd and impertinent meddling.
If Darcy had hoped to see his friend's melancholy gone and him returned to all his usual good spirits when the Bingley's and the Hurst's dined at his home the next evening, it would have been a half victory. Bingley had improved; he was more attentive than he had been and readily participated in the easy conversation that flowed about the room. Despite this, however, it was obvious to Darcy that his lively enthusiasm and high spirits had by no means fully recovered.
In truth, he had felt it too much to hope that Bingley would be markedly improved just at the prospect of seeing Miss Bennet again within days while so much was still left in doubt. Darcy wished to believe what Elizabeth had implied: Miss Bennet was still greatly attached to Bingley. But despite her good information, his rational side must wonder if any lady's feelings could survive intact through several months of complete abandonment.
For Bingley's sake he hoped they had not altered and now wished Miss Bennet's attachment to be the exact opposite of what he had desired last November: strong, steady and lasting.
Speculation on Bingley's chances of successfully renewing his suit with Miss Bennet could, after a time, only lead Darcy to recall his own failed courting of Miss Elizabeth.
He inwardly laughed at his own stupidity. Courting? It had been no such thing. He had been so self-assured, so proud in presuming that with every circumstance in his favour he needn't have bothered to woo her at all. He had felt that the only particular attention he owed Elizabeth was to ask for her hand, and in even that his pride had not abandoned him, as he did not doubt that he would succeed.
Their conversation in the shrubbery of Rosings Park most certainly did not go as he had planned. After the extent of her disgust and contempt of him was fully revealed and their tête-à-tête seemingly at an end he, sick with heartache, exposed his prior intention of proposing just as he walked away.
The confession had been impulsive. His hopes severely trodden on by Elizabeth's accusations and harsh looks, he felt wretched. And with the crushing realisation that his dreams and fantasies of sharing his life with her could never occur, his fervent but now impossible desire to have her as his wife flowed uncensored from his lips.
By admitting his feelings, emotions that were so incredibly unrequited, he had removed the last of his pride, and was humbled. If he had remained silent he would have retreated with the last of his remaining dignity, but he did not regret what he had said. He hated disguise of every fashion and conducted his own behaviour to what he would expect of others.
That afternoon at Rosings he had been in a foul mood, consumed with anger, bitterness and spite. He imagined her in a wretched state but rather than nursing a severely wounded ego as he was, he saw her painfully regretting her abuse of him now knowing that she, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, with her low connections and little breeding could have been mistress of Pemberley! He did not let his rational mind intervene and doubt the veracity of these thoughts until his bitterness passed and disgust at his own behaviour rose the next day.
The morning after the Bingley's and the Hursts dined with himself and Georgiana was the first of three tedious days of waiting. None of his books or usual pastimes could hold his attention and with Bingley having gone off to Hertfordshire he was not in humour to entertain or seek the society of others, excepting of course for his sister's.
The letter to Colonel Forster had been posted from his cousin's residence on Wednesday morning and thereby making its arrival in Meryton on Friday, assuming his majesty's post-office was swift and reliable in delivery.
When a reply would return was all in the hands of Colonel Forster, but Darcy hoped, seeing it was a matter of such importance, that he would be prompt.
So, for three days he waited in a considerable ill humour, and then at last on late Tuesday afternoon Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived on his doorstep bearing a letter. Darcy's relief on seeing his cousin was great and so was his housekeeper's as the finely woven rug in the study would, for the moment, bear no more of her master's incessant pacing.
When the Colonel was shown into Darcy's study he produced the letter before his cousin could even offer him a brandy.
Richard accepted his cousin's hospitality and while Darcy was pouring the liquor offered, "I suggest a drink for yourself too old friend, I dare say you'll need it after reading this."
Darcy poured two snifters and after handing Fitzwilliam his, took the letter and sat down.
An unpleasant feeling, the kind he long associated with dealing in anything to do with Wickham washed over him. He took one glance at his cousin, who had something between a grimace and a resigned smile across his face, and then lifted the broken seal to review the letter.
Dear Colonel Fitzwilliam,It is my wish to confirm to anyone who has inquired after the integrity of any of the officers in my regiment that they are, without exception, gentlemen in breeding, manner and activity. You, as a military man yourself, know the great pride one places in the officers under their command and, as an extension, the loyalty that their faithful service inspires.
However, even the staunchest loyalties originating between men on the battlefield are not blind to everything, and as the greatest skirmishes that my officer's have partaken in while stationed in Hertfordshire has been in parlours and ballrooms, my vision has remained exceptional. I have said that it is my wish to confirm the integrity of my officers; indeed it is my greatest wish, but I cannot.
The contents of your letter (though far from explicit) did greatly surprise me. But while I read and re-read your communication I felt something of an echo of my own suspicions.
Mr. Wickham did not long have a place within my regiment before I noticed a disapproval of him from some quarters. Many of my men were all too delighted with his happy manners and were keen to call him friend. Others I noticed seemed eager to do without his society entirely. I allowed for differences of temper and liveliness and thought nothing of it.
I was entirely without suspicion up until recently when I heard some worrisome accounts of his behaviour one evening at the local tavern: a high stakes card table with accusations of cheating, some impropriety with a Meryton woman and a near brawl.
I consider it my duty to uphold the honour of serving under His Majesty and make it my business to see that my officers do as well. I made some inquires which led to nothing more than my concluding that the officers reportedly involved experienced unfortunate and convenient memory lapses.
To be blunt sir, I thought him a drunkard, a gamer and possibly a cheat but the charges you have hinted at in your letter are grave in comparison.
I have since kept an ear to the ground and a watchful eye over the man in question and several of his friends. Your information has only strengthened my resolve. I thank you and Mr. Darcy for acquainting me with your suspicions and knowledge.
I have left my response to the most delicate inquiry of your letter for the last because, in frankness, I wondered how to answer. I shall be blunt as you were in asking. I understood that there was a young lady, a daughter of a member of the local gentility, whom had caught Mr. Wickham's eye. I observed them to be quite attached to each other and had it gone on longer than it did, expectations would have arisen of their soon forming an understanding. The lady however left Hertfordshire some weeks ago and their particular attachment no longer arouses the speculation it once did.
Since that lady's departure Mr. Wickham has found other favourites. He has become particularly partial to an heiress' company and I shall endeavour, with the utmost discretion, to warn her guardian of his, at best, dubious character.
Please convey my regards to Mr. Darcy and I shall write again to inform you of Wickham's actions should anything cause me suspicion or concern. I hope that in time, the delicate matters that involved Wickham in the past are sorted so that he and his shady character may be permanently excluded from polite society.
Yours etc,
Colonel Henry Forster.
Darcy sighed in either relief or frustration he knew not which. A glance at his cousin who sat in a large leather armchair facing the fire, a seat identical to his own in appearance and position, taught him nothing: his expression of distaste was gone. Richard's features had been long schooled in the military and betrayed none of his thoughts. Darcy looked down and skimmed the letter over again.
He knew himself to be relieved that there was not a public expectation of a marriage between Elizabeth and Wickham, yet cold, firm disquiet refused to budge from within his chest.
"I know you are not a blockhead Darcy; you cannot pretend to be still reading. What have you to say?"
"It is what I expected."
"Then he has neither impressed nor disappointed you? I cannot say the same," the Colonel's passive expression broke into a thundering scowl, his voice dropping the charade of flippancy and ease. "I shall add cheating at cards and bribery to his long list of despicable behaviour. Should he be under my command, I would skin that man alive."
Darcy appreciated the sentiment but didn't comment directly. Instead, he began reviewing the letter once more.
The Colonel continued his condemnation, unfazed by his cousin's silence. "He is not fit to sleep with the pigs but partakes of tea and sweet biscuits in good society while we sit here, unable to act. What is to be done?"
There was a world of difference between what could or should be done and what he wanted. He wanted to mount his horse and ride back to Meryton that instant, confront Wickham and expose him for what he really was. He wanted Elizabeth to see him clearly, not veiled in Wickham's deceit. And he wanted her to love him so dearly as he did her.
He sighed and let his eyes close for a moment. Yes, he wanted that above all.
But he could not follow Bingley back to Hertfordshire and risk exposing Georgiana's folly while revealing Wickham's malice. And, even if he were to go back, Elizabeth would never believe him based only on his word against Wickham's. He already had ample proof of that.
"Well cousin? What is to be done?" Asked the Colonel again with more than a hint of impatience.
An unpleasant feeling he recognised as helplessness overcame him and he sighed once more. "Nothing."
From the look of extreme agitation on Richard's face, this was obviously not the answer he had wanted. Darcy himself was calm; nothing in the letter had shocked or angered him. He, unlike Fitzwilliam, had already experienced the injustice of seeing Wickham roaming unchecked in society with his own eyes.
Each man sat quietly with his own thoughts until the Colonel, now somewhat more subdued spoke again. "There is good news though. Miss Bennet is safe at least. She is very sensible and I'd wager even saw through the scoundrel herself before leaving to visit the Collins'."
A wry smirk and a derisive chuff escaped Darcy, but the irony of his cousin's assertion was quickly tampered by his own grim disappointment and painful recollections.
"That is not the conclusion I came to when talking with her. She has been completely deceived."
"So you did discuss Wickham with her then?"
Darcy chided himself for giving too much away. He did not want to talk about the conversation he had with Elizabeth. It wasn't for the sake of preserving his dignity or pride; he just didn't want his cousin knowing the extent of his arrogance. He had expected only to ask to have, and allowed his conceit and his selfish disdain dictate his behaviour even to the woman he loved.
Richard, he knew, would not be cruel. He would only pity him for his ungoverned pride and great disappointment. But Darcy knew he deserved no sympathy and could not bear to hear anything of the kind.
Instead, he ignored the Colonel's pointed question and replied, "I cannot agree. She is not safe. By now she has returned from Kent to Hertfordshire and may desire to renew the attachment between them."
"But he is hunting an heiress."
"And as soon as Colonel Forster talks to her guardian he, if he has any sense at all, will remove the lady from Meryton as soon as may be."
"Darcy there is one thing I don't understand. What is Wickham's interest in Miss Bennet? She has many fine qualities about her but none of them would make a spot of difference to him. He is only interested in someone else making his fortune for him and, from what I understand, she has very little money to speak of. Wickham is not a half-wit. He will not give up his chance on a poor lady, no matter how remarkable she is," Richard's gaze lingered on him, no doubt he was interested to see how the compliment of the lady, whom he knew Darcy to harbour feelings for, rested with him.
While Richard paused, Darcy wondered if his cousin was yet another that had been drawn like a moth to the burning flame that was Elizabeth. He may admire her, Darcy could not fathom a man who would not, but no one could love her so wholly, so completely as he did.
"Do you think it is possible we are concerned over nothing? That it is nothing but a passing flirtation?"
At once Darcy's cool demeanour vanished and his anger swiftly rose. "Miss Bennet is being lied to by the most self-serving, unscrupulous dog in all of England. He cannot be trusted and when his motives cannot be easily deduced, it causes me more concern, not less. I do not know what that man is capable of."
"Darcy tell me, you know him best. Do you seriously think he is planning to ruin her? Surely not! He would be caught and - - it is madness!"
"No, not by design. But Colonel Forster is suspicious, some of the officers are against him, and he is probably in debt to a card shark and half the tradesmen in Meryton. If he needed to flee and the opportunity presented itself I would wonder indeed."
"Then there is only one thing that can be done. You must go back to Hertfordshire."
Darcy felt as if he had been pushed off a ledge. Fear, dread and longing to see her again rose up and warred within him just at the very possibility of returning to Netherfield. These feelings clung to him for a moment and then he was struck by sudden clarity.
"I cannot expose him," he said. "I cannot hurt Georgiana. They are both innocent, but Georgiana is too dear to me. She believes that she has already disgraced herself and will not let me acquit her of the blame. She is all that I have and is my responsibility; I must protect her in every way. I could not expose him, not even for Elizabeth."
Darcy noticed his slip-up immediately and if the Colonel did as well he was a good enough friend to let it pass unnoticed.
"Darcy, relax. I did not mean for you to expose him. I wish I could do it myself but it is impossible, it cannot be publicly known. But you must return to Hertfordshire and make your presence known to him. If he does not quit his commission immediately then he will be too afraid to try anything with you nearby."
Darcy's options were few and they weighed heavily on his mind. If he stayed in London and returned to Pemberley as planned, then Elizabeth was at risk. If he returned to Netherfield then he could watch Wickham himself. Otherwise, he would be as good as two days behind any moves that man made once a letter from Forster or Bingley reached him in Derbyshire and he rode the many miles back from the north.
In all of his eight and twenty years, Fitzwilliam Darcy had been called many things. He was said to be proud and disagreeable by those who did not know him, generous and kind by those who did, but by himself he was rational and logical above all.
And so, despite all the mortification it would cost him, the pain he would suffer in seeing her but knowing that she would never be his, and that not three hours ago he would rather have been strung up by his thumbs in the Tower of London than suffer the deep shame that would humble him again in her presence, it would be against his very character to choose an irrational solution over good sense.
To Hertfordshire, therefore, he was to go.