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Part XXXII
As Wikham took his leave and retreated, Elizabeth continued to ponder his words, wondering whether she had mistaken his meaning. Certainly he had not been completely explicit, but she did not see how she could have misinterpreted his meaning, although she had been eager to stem his advances before she was put in a position of further awkwardness. But even if she had wronged him on that count, she could not but be irked at his continuing to cast aspersions on her husband's character. She paused for a moment to wonder how her opinion of Mr. Darcy had thus altered -- it was not so very long ago that she had encouraged Mr. Wikham's confidences. But as her closer association with Mr. Darcy had worn down her earlier prejudices, she had come to put a great deal of faith in his essential honourability. Certainly he had been nothing else in his dealings with her, if the impropriety in his manner of proposing were forgiven, and this Elizabeth had long since done. And Georgiana's testimony held no small weight for Elizabeth, who had come to regard her as a sister, and the affection in which she held her brother was quite transparent. Moreover, quite apart from her desire to see her husband in the right, other circumstances occurred to her, which undermined her faith in Wikham's story. She was now struck by the impropriety of his confidence in her so early in their acquaintance, and she had noticed also that he had not distinguished her particularly in this regard, and that the vast majority of his acquaintance had heard the story. While she was loath to think that he was engaging in a deliberate deception, she was now convinced that he had embellished to a great extent the story of his deprivation and used it as a means of gaining the goodwill and sympathy of his acquaintances.
She turned back to her letters, endeavouring to put Wikham and her own unhappiness out of her mind, but once again, she was interrupted in her task. A breathless Lydia burst into the parlour, not having waited to be announced.
"La, Lizzy! You look like you're under the weather this morning. I think I can guess the reason why!"
"I should imagine not," Lizzy replied, a bit shortly, resolving to address the issue of Lydia's unguarded behaviour with her, and steeling herself to some resistance.
"I dare say I can -- I saw Wikham leaving you just now!"
"Lydia!" Lizzy blushed involuntarily.
"There, I knew it! He told you everything, I'll warrant! La, and why should you be so uptight about it? He's not so rich as your Mr. Darcy, but he is ever so much more handsome!"
"Lydia, what did Mr. Wikham tell you?"
Elizabeth was seriously discomposed. Shocked as he had been when she had suspected Wikham's intentions for her, she was aghast to think that he might have confided them in her sister. And she could not imagine why he would have done such a thing. Surely he knew as well as the next person how utterly unguarded she was in her speech.
"What he told you, of course! I must look a sight, for I ran the entire way to come tell you, and I found at your door that he had been here before me. But can you wonder at my excitement, Lizzy? I shall go quite distracted!"
"Excitement?"
Elizabeth was frankly puzzled. Whatever her sister's response to such news ought to have been, there was surely no cause for such excitement on her part.
"Why should I not be excited, Lizzy? You have not been married so long as to think it such an everyday affair!"
"Lydia, what is it you are talking of?"
Her sister's face fell.
"He didn't tell you? Of course he did not, for he made me promise last night that I wasn't to say a word. But this morning I could think of nothing else but to tell you. Oh dear, what will he say now? I promised so faithfully not to breathe a word of it."
"Lydia, surely there is nothing you need keep a secret from you sister."
Lydia regained her spirits somewhat, and spoke eagerly once again.
"You are right, Lizzy. I am sure he did not mean that I should keep it from you. I dare say he wanted me to tell you, instead of telling you himself. Lizzy, we are to be married!"
"Married!"
Elizabeth did not know what to make of this. Her doubts as to whether she had wronged him just now came back to her, but she could not shake her conviction that she had interpreted his motives correctly, and that his advances to Lydia were likewise questionable. Moreover, it would hardly be a prudent match for someone in his financial position, and having witnessed his wooing of Mary King she did not think Wikham would be so disinterested.
"Has he spoken to Papa?"
"No indeed! Lizzy, you mustn't either! We shall away to Scotland, and surprise everyone at Longbourn when we return we return after marrying."
"What about his position in the regiment?"
"It does not signify. He said he would be looking for another position in the North."
"Why must you elope? Would you not rather marry out of Longbourn?"
"Aye, Lizzy, I would rather have Kitty for a bridesmaid, for she would be so jealous of me. But Wikham is determined to leave Brighton, and he said that he would not want to leave without me."
"When did he say you would leave?"
"Tonight we head for London, where he has business. We leave for Gretna Green in some days."
"You agreed to elope without an immediate marriage?"
"Surely it does not much signify when we marry? We will not be gone so very long, you know."
Elizabeth began to realize what Wikham was about. Evidently he was in some urgency to leave Brighton, and he had found in Lydia a willing companion. Elizabeth knew her sister well enough to realize that the novelty of the situation would be so exciting for Lydia that she would not stop to think of the consequences of her actions. Wikham's assurances would be more than enough to induce her to compromise herself, and Elizabeth knew that Wikham would be mercenary enough to abandon her after she had served her purposes for him, for undoubtedly he had not abandoned his intention of making a profitable marriage. She was at something of a loss as to why he had visited her that morning. Perhaps he had hoped for some financial assistance. Or perhaps he had come to see if she were willing to accompany him, so that he might have a choice of which sister to take.
"Lydia, how could you have agreed to such a scheme? Did it not occur to you that his secrecy must mean that he has something to hide?"
"I love him, Lizzy! And he explained everything. He is not rich enough that he can be secure that Papa will approve the match, and you know your husband would advise against it. He said that he would not allow such interference to part us."
"So you intended just to disappear, and leave the world wondering what became of you?"
"No, and that is why I came to you. You will tell everyone not to worry, won't you?"
"I will not allow you to give them a reason to worry!"
"Lizzy, you cannot forbid me!"
"Indeed I can, but I shall not. But I shall make sure that you remain here. If Wikham comes to get you, you may go, but I intend to have a word with him before you do."
"Lizzy!"
"Why should you object? If he loves you, surely he will have no objection in having a few words with me, so that we may all be secure of your well-being?"
"But he insisted on my secrecy!"
"That was inconsiderate of him; he could not but know that we would have been quite worried. No, Lydia, I am sure Mama and Papa would be displeased if I let you go without speaking with him. You will remain here until he comes to claim you. I will send for your things immediately."
"Very well, Lizzy. I will know when he comes for me, and I will not let you send him away without me."
"I assure you, Lydia, you will be informed of his arrival, if he should come. And if he should not, you will know that he does not love you."
"Of course he loves me! I am sure he will come for me tonight!"
Elizabeth rang for the maid, and asked her to show Lydia to the spare bedchamber. She then wrote to Mrs. Forster, thanking her for her hospitality to Lydia and asking that her things be sent over. She then turned back to her own letters, wondering what she would do with Lydia. She was convinced that Wikham would not come for her; she had created a situation in which his appearance would be entirely too uncomfortable. And Lydia would sulk for a few days, and her fancy would then probably be caught elsewhere. But Elizabeth knew that her behaviour was not likely to improve, and she worried about what might happen if she were not so fortunately placed to be able to rescue her from such a situation.
Part XXXIII
A few hours later, when Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley returned, Elizabeth told them that Lydia would be staying with them for a few days. She had earlier shared with them her concerns about Lydia's unguarded behaviour, and their only surprise was that Lydia had apparently consented to the scheme. Lydia sulked in her room for the remainder of the morning, and her mouth was set in a defiant grimace when she was summoned for dinner. Elizabeth was perversely glad to have some diversion from the worries that had been consuming her, and was quite amused at her sister's behaviour. Lydia was comporting herself with as much dignity as she was capable of, having seen that a voiced opposition that would have been so effective with her mother would be fruitless against Lizzy, who was not only able but also quite willing to out-argue her. Georgiana, who had so recently learnt to become comfortable around Elizabeth and her sisters, was now afraid of intruding on an awkward situation. Dinner was a silent meal, and the women observed each other a bit warily.
After dinner, as Lydia prepared to retreat to her room and await Wikham, Georgiana invited her to join her in the music room. Lydia, after a slight pause, agreed; Elizabeth would be with them as well, and she would know exactly when Wikham came for her. The two girls went on ahead of Elizabeth, who went up to her room momentarily to retrieve some needlepoint she was working on. Georgiana, seeking to discharge her role as a host, could not continue in silence; she hazarded an inquiry as to the length of Lydia's stay. Lydia, who had not a doubt that Wikham would come for her, replied only that she would be leaving very shortly indeed. Soon afterwards, Elizabeth joined them, and Georgiana commenced with a piece on the piano. She was not halfway through her opening selection when a gentleman was announced. Elizabeth said that she would receive him in the parlour, and excused herself.
"Lizzy, you cannot hide me from Wikham forever like this!" Lydia exclaimed, too vexed at her sister's behaviour to hold her peace.
"Lydia, I shall send for you if it should prove necessary," Elizabeth replied, shortly, and made her way out. Georgiana had faltered in her playing, but she assumed that it was simply the distraction of their conversation that had caused her lapse.
"Wikham?" Georgiana asked Lydia as Elizabeth left the room, wondering what possible connection there could be between them.
"Yes, he is to call here tonight."
"Why tonight?"
"Why, because he is leaving Brighton, of course."
Herself incapable of keeping a confidence, Lydia had assumed that Georgiana had been acquainted with the particulars of her intended elopement. She was a little surprised that Georgiana should fail to see the need for urgency, but it never occurred to her that Elizabeth should have concealed Lydia's shameful plan from her husband's closest relation.
"I do not understand why Lizzy should insist upon seeing him alone in the parlour," she continued, oblivious to the effect of this statement on Georgiana. She had by now given up on the piano entirely, and was absorbing Lydia's words. She was preparing to make her excuses and retreat to her own bedchamber, when Elizabeth returned, followed by her caller.
"Colonel Forster, may I present Miss Darcy. My sister, of course, you know."
"Delighted to meet you, Miss Darcy. Good evening, Miss Bennet. Mrs. Forster asked me to persuade you to return shortly. She misses your company already."
"Dear Harriet! I shall miss her too, but I cannot return to her soon!" Lydia replied. Disappointed though she was that the caller had not been Wikham, she was still convinced that he would arrive very shortly. If Colonel Forster was surprised at her slightly impolite reply, he concealed it quite effectively.
"Won't you join us for some tea?" Elizabeth asked.
"Thank you, Mrs. Darcy, but I shan't be staying long - I came merely to discharge my errand. Mrs. Forster and Miss Bennet have been most insistent on a ball, and I would like to invite you all to attend. It is to be a week from tomorrow."
"Thank you, Colonel, we shall certainly endeavour to attend," said Elizabeth, before Lydia could speak further. The Colonel stayed for a few more minutes, and then left. Lydia, who had fallen increasingly into a sulk at Wikham's continued absence, petulantly excused herself as well, leaving Georgiana and Elizabeth alone. This was precisely the opening that Georgiana had been looking for, for ever since she had heard Lydia's disclosure her thoughts came around always to the same idea that the the Wikham she alluded to might be the very one she herself had so narrowly escaped from. Were this the case, she must at all costs be protected, and Georgiana knew that if her brother had not recounted this story to his wife then it was only because he valued her privacy, and considered it her story to tell. It would cost her a mortifying disclosure, to be sure, but Georgiana thought too well of Elizabeth to think that she might hold it against her.
"Lizzy, when you left us alone just now, there was something Lydia said. I gathered that a Mr. Wikham is to call here this evening."
"She expects him to call, certainly. I cannot imagine that he will, Georgiana, so you need not be concerned."
"My brother has told you, then? I must confess I am more relieved than anything to hear it. It would be too much for you to be taken in as well."
"Your brother has never..." she broke off, wondering what exactly Georgiana was alluding to, and how much she had inferred about Elizabeth's own connection with Wikham, "...willingly spoken to me of Mr. Wikham, Georgiana; neither has he told me anything I did not already know," she finished. Understatement though it was, it did cover the facts. Elizabeth was convinced that there were details of the acquaintance between them that she was not privy to which would allow her to understand the behaviour of each man, and Georgiana's allusion told her that she knew something of these details. She wondered why it hadn't occurred to her earlier to ask her new sister, and was now determined to learn as much as she might.
"But I thought... that is to say... " Georgiana was in confusion. Her relief in thinking that Elizabeth was apprised of the facts already had been extreme. Now Elizabeth had professed her ignorance, and she would have to explain herself after all. It came home to her forcefully what the confession would cost her, and were it not for the urgency of her concern, she would have dropped the matter immediately. Still she hesitated, and it was Elizabeth who spoke.
"Georgiana, only this much can I say, and I beg you will keep the matter in your confidence. Lydia, foolish girl, is determined to elope with Wikham. I know that he cannot afford to marry her, and his affection is not so disinterested, so the elopement can only lead to her ruin, and I am determined to protect her. I know he has a closer connection with your family, but under the circumstances, I find it difficult to credit his own account of it, so I must have the particulars from you."
Elizabeth did not mention how long she had in fact credited Wikham's account, and how his story had come between her and her husband; at this point, she realized that those revelations would only undermine Georgiana's faith in her, and she needed to have her confidence.
Georgiana was by now more collected; now that the matter had come up, the entire history must be disclosed, and though she would have been more comfortable letting Fitzwilliam make the disclosure, she did not now shrink from it.
"Very well, Lizzy. I had hoped that you would learn of this from Fitzwilliam, but I will tell you the entire history myself; I dare say he expected me to make the revelation."
Taking a deep breath, she started the narrative, speaking almost in a sort of rehearsed monotone.
"Mr. Wikham's father was a very respectable man; he was steward to my own father. Mr. Wikham is my father's godson; he and Fitzwilliam played together as boys, and when I was a child he was very kind to me. My father supported him at school, and afterwards at Cambridge, and so for many years I saw him only when he and Fitzwilliam came home for their holidays. I had understood while my father was alive that he was to have had a family living, but after he died I learnt from Fitzwilliam that he had expressed a disinterest from the church and been compensated accordingly. He no longer visited at Pemberley, and I knew that he and my brother were no longer friends, though I had no idea what had transpired between them."
Elizabeth nodded. The story so far corresponded with Wikham's account as far as she was willing to believe it, and she had long inferred that Darcy had honoured his claims in some manner. But Georgiana, who was hesitating, evidently had more to say, and Elizabeth silently urged her to continue.
"I did not see him again until last summer. I was in Ramsgate with a Mrs. Younge, who was acquainted with him, and she introduced us again. I had not many acquaintances there so Mr. Wikham was with us a great deal, and Mrs. Younge allowed him to spend much of the time with me alone."
Georgiana faltered again; Elizabeth took her hand and held it compassionately in silent encouragement.
"Mr. Wikham was as charming as remembered him from my childhood. He told me that he loved me, and persuaded me that I loved him as well. He spoke but little of Fitzwilliam, but when I told him that he must break of our attachment with my brother, he told me that Fitzwilliam would never consent to his suit because of his poverty, and that it would be best that we came to him after we had married. I could not believe that my brother would be so mercenary, but I agreed to an elopement. Fitzwilliam visited me in Ramsgate a day or two before we were to have left for Scotland, and having him so near, I could not keep up the concealment. I told him of the plan, expecting him to be happy at my attachment. You can imagine how he acted. When Wikham realized that Fitzwilliam would not allow him to squander my fortune, he promptly left, and I was left with the mortifying discovery that he had cared for nothing more. And when Fitzwilliam disclosed to me the history of his debts and debaucheries, any regret I might have experienced was overwhelmed by my relief that I had not succumbed to his plans."
Elizabeth squeezed her hand, still unsure what to say. Though she had come to realize that Wikham was not as he had represented himself, she had had no expectation of receiving so personal a confidence. Now she realized what agonies she had inflicted on Darcy by her every allusion to Wikham, and how justly he had been incensed at her defense of him. She could not begin to conceive how she might make amends for a misjudgment on this scale, but she was saddened also that he had not seen fit to acquaint her with the actual facts of the matter. She could only think that he had not trusted in her discretion, and the mortifying thought that he might have assumed a closer connection between herself and Wikham also crossed her mind. But a calmer voice pointed out that they had never discussed the matter at any time after their marriage, when he might easily have assumed that Wikham was forever banished from all their lives, and seen no reason to revisit a painful past. Moreover, he was always and completely protective of his sister and might easily have considered this her story to disclose, and she acknowledged besides that he might very naturally have assumed after her outburst that she would be more likely to believe in Georgiana than in him. She looked up to see tears beginning to well up in Georgiana's eyes, and gathered her close in a compassionate hug, murmuring any words that might bring her solace.
"My poor darling! What you must have endured!"
"Then you do not blame me?"
"Dearest, he is a man to take anyone in, and you, at that age! Why, my own sister..."
"But Elizabeth, how come you to know him at all?"
"Your brother never mentioned this to you, but he is an officer in the --shire militia under Colonel Forster, whom you met just now. They were quartered in Meryton while your brother was at Netherfield."
"And he is to elope with your sister now? I cannot... Does he love her, then?"
"No, Georgiana, do not think it. He is not worth your tears. And no, he does not love her. I think I can safely say that."
She was thinking back to the events of that very morning. There could be no mistaking his meaning now. To think that he should have made, at some time or another, the very same offer to each of the ladies living in that house; was such a thing to be comprehended? To be sure, she still could not fathom what he hoped to gain by compromising her or her sister. In the former case she could see how his mind might construe a motive of revenge, but for the latter, it could be nothing but the most idle fancy that had prompted that offer. She wondered anew how he would react now to knowing that she had taken Lydia into her care. She had not thought before that he would be so audacious as to call here again, but after Georgiana's confession she would put nothing past him.
As if in direct confirmation of her thoughts, the maid interrupted them once again.
"A gentleman to see you, Ma'am. He gives the name of Wikham."
Part XXXIV
Georgiana drew in her breath sharply at the announcement, and Elizabeth once again squeezed the hand she was still holding. She thanked the maid, and asked that the gentleman be shown to the front parlour, maintaining some semblance of normal behavior, seeing that Georgiana was too vexed to remember her usual restraint.
"What can he be wanting now?"
She had started to speak almost before they were left alone once again, so great was her agitation, but the maid was too well-trained to betray her curiosity and did not hesitate in her departure.
"Whatever it may be, he shall not receive it. I am well able to cope with him."
"But Elizabeth..."
"No, I will brook no opposition in this. Dearest, you must go upstairs. I will not have you see him. All shall be well, I promise you. We shall none of us succumb to him now."
"I confess, I have no desire to encounter him once again, but I cannot abandon you this way."
"You are not abandoning me. You have told me everything I needed to know not to be taken in by his manner. I will not have you discompose yourself any further over him."
"You are too good, to care for me in this fashion, Lizzy. I am so glad that Fitzwilliam married you. You are the sister I have always wanted."
There was nothing that Elizabeth could say to such a compliment, at such a time. She simply held the younger girl close, and kissed her gently on the forehead. Then she rose, with obvious intent.
"Upstairs, Georgiana. I will come to you directly as I am done."
Seeing Georgiana on her way up, Elizabeth headed for the front parlour.
"Mrs. Darcy."
He rose, smiling in the familiar ingratiating manner, and she was chilled once again by his presumption in coming to call in this fashion once again. Despite her expressed confidence to Georgiana, Elizabeth was apprehensive as to the outcome of this interview. Knowing what her sister did not, she was truly shocked to see him here, and she wondered what cards he held that could allow him to show himself here with such impunity after what had occurred that very afternoon. And she knew also that what she had not revealed about her own friendship with such a blackguard could be represented in the most damaging light to any member of her husband's family.
"Mr. Wikham, I am entirely at a loss to account for your presence here this evening. To what do I owe this honour?"
"Mrs. Darcy, you surprise me. I did not think an excuse was necessary between close friends."
"Friendship, Mr. Wikham, is subject to reevaluation, and I assumed this morning that you understood that you had forfeit any rights you may have had in that respect."
"Business, then, if you will not allow for the claims of friendship. I had hoped to conduct this interview in a more amicable fashion."
"Mr. Wikham, under no circumstances can any further interview between us be conducted in an amicable fashion. Please state your business so that we may dispense with it as rapidly as possible."
"Very well, then, Mrs. Darcy, I have no doubt that your sister has apprised you of our intention. I come to accompany her."
"To let you lead her to her ruin? How do you assume that I will allow her to leave with you under such circumstances?"
"I was afraid this might be your attitude on the matter. Believe me when I say that I have the means of persuading your sisters or yourself to come away with me."
"Lydia may be ignorant, and I am determined to protect her from her own folly, but you cannot possibly imagine that Miss Darcy and I can have anything further to do with you after the manner in which you have imposed yourself."
"So your precious Miss Darcy has finally confided in you? I wondered that your husband did not trust you enough. But if you know those particulars, let me tell you that I have every means of exposing her."
"Surely you were well compensated for your silence in the matter. What can it profit you to expose it now? And besides, the word of a discredited man so long after the purported incident is worthless."
"It is not merely my word. Did your precious sister tell you about the letters she wrote? Let me assure you that her charming correspondence makes for very enlightening reading."
"What correspondence? You were right in Ramsgate with her."
"That didn't prevent her from writing elaborate letters. Believe me when I tell you that she was most explicit about our situation."
"And what do you want for them?"
"I would be perfectly happy if Miss Darcy would make good on her promises and come away with me as my wife."
"It cannot profit you to marry her now. Her fortune has been secured in such a manner that you can never have access to it if she marries without the consent of her guardians, and that you will never receive."
Despite her confidence, Elizabeth did not know this for a fact, but she did not imagine that her husband would have neglected so elementary a precaution, and in any case, under no circumstances would she allow Wikham to prevail on Georgiana.
"I was afraid some such arrangement might have been made. In that case, I shall have to seek my fortune elsewhere. For the moment, Miss Darcy shall have her precious letters back if you allow your very willing sister to come away with me."
"And if I do not?"
"It will be very tedious for me to flee alone, Mrs. Darcy. If you will not allow Lydia to oblige me I must insist on your own company. In fact I might prefer it. But I leave the choice to you. I shall call tomorrow night to collect my companion. I'm afraid I really cannot remain in Brighton much longer. I hope you have a pleasant evening, Mrs. Darcy"
For several seconds after Wikham left, Lizzy just stood there, uncomprehending that he would even dare to make so audacious a demand. What had she been thinking. What could she possibly do now, to avert this horrible outcome? To sacrifice Georgiana was unthinkable. Undoubtedly, if Elizabeth were to tell her what had passed, she would feel herself culpable and sacrifice herself to Wikham's clutches. Yet that she, who already knew what a man he was should be exposed to him again in such a way was unthinkable, and more than that to Elizabeth it was a matter of her brother's trust. Georgiana was here under her care, and she would discharge this responsibility, no matter what the outcome. But what alternative did she have. Lydia, she thought dispassionately, would go willingly enough, but could she expose her fifteen year old sister to certain degradation and ruin in order to protect her own family? No, it must be herself. She reflected bitterly that as far as appearances were concerned the elopement of a wife would cause a far greater scandal than the elopement and marriage of a sister. There was a fair chance that Darcy would exert himself once again to rescue Georgiana, but the virtue of a fallen wife was beyond restitution. But what did she have to protect her virtue for except a public name? Her husband already thought of her as the worst sort of mercenary, having sold herself into marriage for material gain. Were his sister to be lost to him now she would sink still further in his estimation, for doubtless he would hold her responsible for allowing him such access. No, it were far better that she should be the one sacrificed. Georgiana would be safe, and Lydia would be safe. Darcy would more quickly overcome his regard for her, and she doubted not that with his connections a divorce would quickly be secured. He would marry again, and she would be forgotten. It would work out for the best in every way.
"Lizzy, are you still in here?"
"Lydia, what are you doing downstairs?"
"I came down when I heard Wikham come in. Oh, Lizzy, I heard everything. And to think I thought... Lizzy, whatever are we going to do about this?"
Part XXXV
"Whatever do you mean, Lydia?"
Lydia stared at her sister. She had grown up, if such a thing were possible, in the last fifteen minutes. Coming down the stairs, her only intention had been fling herself into her Wikham's arms and leave this tiresome house of her sister's forever. She had paused at the doorway when she had heard tell of Miss Darcy's letters. Even then she was willing to overcome her jealousy at evidence of this prior attachment and applaud his cleverness in using such a thing for her sake. It was when she heard him say of his own accord that he would prefer her sister that her infatuation was destroyed. Her feelings now were those of outraged pride; she was certainly not governed by the most mature of emotions. But for such a creature as Lydia, it was a considerable step.
"Lizzy, I know you must think me very silly, but I am not so stupid as all that. I heard what Mr. Wikham's threatens, and I could not possibly mistake his meaning. Oh, Lizzy, how can I have thought his regard to have been genuine? I did think that he truly wished to marry me! But what shall we do now? Shall I have to go with him regardless?"
Elizabeth was surprised to see this change in her sister's manner, but she was too clever to question it now that it had occurred. Nevertheless, she was struck by the irony of the situation, that Lydia, who would have gone perfectly willingly with Wikham not fifteen minutes before, had embarked on her reformation precisely when it was convenient for her to go. Still, the moment was too earnest for such reflections, and she rejoiced to see that on top of her other trials she would not forcefully have to protect her sister against her own will.
"Of course not, Lydia. You know quite well that you brought you here to prevent that outcome."
"Did you know what he was, then? Why did you not tell me, Lizzy? What is this history of Miss Darcy's that he is holding against us?"
Elizabeth stumbled momentarily, not wishing to involve Lydia in her other troubles, or to admit that Miss Darcy had only just made her revelation. She improvised a plausible if not entirely accurate answer.
"I... I could not tell you about Miss Darcy because she mentioned the matter to me in confidence, and I could not betray her trust. And for the rest, I did attempt to dissuade you as best I could without revealing any of those particulars."
"Aye, but if I had known such a thing..."
"Lydia, you will forgive me for saying so, but I had no reason to believe that you would not think it a grand lark, and continue to believe that his regard for you was more particular."
"I suppose there is something in that. If I had not heard him admit it himself... But what now, Lizzy, if you do not mean to send me? Surely you cannot intend to go yourself? Lord, what a scandal that would make!"
Elizabeth flushed, hearing Lydia voice out loud what she had been considering in her head. When she heard it said out loud it sounded utterly preposterous to consider such a thing, yet Elizabeth knew that she had little choice in the matter. And it only made it worse to have Lydia guess her intent.
"Scandal or not, it would protect Georgiana, and I cannot allow her to be compromised in any way."
At one time Elizabeth would have suspected that Lydia would have approved such a plan for the sheer romantic cachet of it, but whether it was her new sobriety or some bent of practicality that she had always possessed, by the simple act of voicing them, Lydia managed to reveal her intentions as poorly conceived and ultimately futile. That much she realized, but what was the alternative? Was it possible to thwart Wikham's intentions in any other way, without taking such a grievous step?
"You cannot throw yourself away for her, Lizzy. I doubt that your Mr. Darcy would thank you for it either. If only we could send him away to debtor's prison where he belongs!"
Elizabeth turned around sharply, looking her sister in the eye. Here was an aspect of the matter that had never before occurred to her, and she began to think that there might be a way around her melancholy intentions of self-sacrifice.
"What do you mean?"
"Why, did you not know? It is the reason he must flee, of course. He has debts mounting with every local merchant, and he means to abscond before they come together and realize what a grand sum he owes in all."
"How grand a sum is it, to force him to resign a commission by absconding?"
"Why, I believe it is nearly a thousand pounds. I cannot imagine how half such a sum would be repayed."
Elizabeth's mind seized upon the possibility, working swiftly. If she were Wikham's creditor, she could surely extract the letters or send him to languish in prison, where he would be in no position to harm those closest to her. Perhaps she might even be able to compel him to leave the country.
"What if he owed us such a sum? I think he might oblige us with Georgiana's letters to keep out of debtor's prison."
"Do you mean to assume his debt, then? Where will you procure the money?"
"I can manage a thousand pounds, I think. And it need not be paid over immediately; if Wikham was able to procure credit on the strength of his uniform and charming manners then I think the tradesmen will be tolerant of Mrs. Darcy for somewhat longer. But tell me, do you know whom he owes the money?"
"I don't know, but I'm sure Denny and Saunderson will be able to tell you."
"We will have to request the Colonel's assistance, in that case. And I do not want word of any possible danger getting back to Wikham. We will tell the men that you two intend to marry, but I am concerned about his finances, and mean to make it easier for the young couple. I am sure they will oblige us by keeping it a secret."
"Oh, Lizzy, what a fine surprise it will be!"
Part XXXVI
Elizabeth spent the night in an anxious torment, mentally reviewing over and over the plan which she had formed based on Lydia's information, and attempting to determine what her strategy ought to be when Wikham arrived the next evening. In her mind she imagined a thousand different scenarios, some plausible and others utterly irrational. She could see Wikham utterly flummoxed and Darcy delighting in her success, but equally well she imagined Wikham revealing some unexposed trump card that would divide her from her husband forever. Thoughts of Darcy inevitably flooded her mind when she thought of the day ahead, and it was with an effort that she reminded herself that he was hardly concerned at all in the matter, and would never learn of it should she prove successful. It was enough that Georgiana should be safe, and she would not breach his trust on that count; a true reconciliation between them was too much to be sought for.
The following morning she had hoped to get an early start, but circumstances arranged themselves such that there was a slight delay. When she had found a letter from Jane awaiting her at the breakfast parlour, she had opened it with little expectation of finding within it any momentous tidings. In this she had been entirely mistaken; Jane's news was of the greatest significance, not only to her sister but also to herself. Mr. Bingley had returned to Netherfield once again, and he had lost no time in tendering a proposal that had been accepted. Jane was to be married. Elizabeth, who had not had the slightest expectation of so happy an outcome, wondered how it could have come about. She wondered whether Mr. Bingley had for once acted independently of his friend, but though Elizabeth had often hoped that he would show such initiative, and despaired that he would not, it now became a matter of anxiety for her to think the opposite. Here was evidence that her husband had not taken her bitter protestations to heart; she had to think that Mr. Bingley had consulted him, and he had evidently provided no objections. Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her, as a token of his good will, to show that he had not held words spoken in anger against her. She wondered if it were possible that, in spite of all that had transpired between them, he still held her dear. And though she acknowledged that in all likelihood this was too much to be hoped for, she was comforted by the knowledge that his honour had demanded that his error be rectified, despite the acrimony that subsisted between them. For herself she was humbled, but for him, she was proud. She saw how grievously she had wronged him in her accusations, and with a lingering sorrow, she acknowledged how little she deserved the affection and regard that she had so callously spurned.
Collecting herself, she shared the happy news with her sisters. Georgiana, despite her short acquaintance with Miss Bennet, was effusive in her enthusiasm; Lydia's bluntness had not been entirely cured by one night's earnest machinations, and her mind being principally occupied by the events of the day ahead, she commented shortly that Bingley had taken his time getting around to it. Georgiana did not know how to respond to this statement; flushing slightly, she stuttered her resolve to write her congratulations to Jane. Elizabeth felt equally the necessity of such a gesture, and was not sorry to have this further opportunity to collect her thoughts. She wrote Jane her most earnest congratulations and wished her every happiness with Bingley, but her mind was occupied by Wikham and Darcy. It could not fail to occur to her that her every point of contention with his behavior had been more than satisfactorily resolved, and she wondered if this could mean that a reconciliation were possible. But she was forced to remember that the breach was more on his side than hers, that he had every reason in the world to think ill of her, and no matter what her actions, she could not hope to justify to him actions that she could not forgive in herself.
The letters were finished and sent to the post, and Elizabeth and Lydia started on their intended outing. The first stop was at the Forster's home, where Lydia was to remain with her dear friend and gather what information she could about Wikham's affairs. Elizabeth was invited to remain as well, but she pleaded further engagements, and continued to the officers' mess hall. The officers were at their exercises, but the Colonel of the regiment was not today overseeing them, and was happy to give Mrs. Darcy the few minutes she desired. Elizabeth was determined not to reveal her full hand, and approached the Colonel with something of an assumed air of naiveté and all her usual cordiality.
"Mrs. Darcy! This is an unexpected pleasure."
"Thank you for seeing me, Colonel. I would not have interrupted you here, but I must see you on a matter concerning one of your officers."
"I hope they have done nothing to offend you. That would require the most severe of punishments."
"No such thing. It is about Mr. Wikham. I believe he and my sister have taken a partiality to one another."
"I have noted a partiality on her side, Mrs. Darcy, and to tell you the truth I was somewhat relieved when she removed to your home. I have reason to believe that he may not perhaps be entirely to be trusted."
Elizabeth was surprised at this response, never having heard him voice anything less than fervent praise for any of his men. She began to wonder how much he already knew, and what she would have to reveal.
"In what way, sir? I may tell you in confidence that my sister claims a definite engagement, and I must necessarily concern myself in her affairs. She did mention some trifling outstanding debts to local tradesmen that I would be happy to assume if it could secure her happiness."
"I'm afraid the debts are not trifling by any means, nor are they simply tradesmen's bills. I have heard talk of debts of honor upto a thousand pounds, and it was in any case my intention to follow up on the matter."
"A gamesman? I should not have guessed such a thing," said Elizabeth in manufactured tones of astonishment, although at this point very little could surprise her.
"Indeed, madam. I should advise you to keep your sister well away from the man until I can ensure that it is quite safe. It may well be nothing but the exaggerated rumour mongering of the mess hall."
"If you please, Colonel, I should like to get to the bottom of these supposed debts as soon as may be. In truth I am somewhat concerned that my sister will do something very rash, and I should like to know how desperate his straits really are."
"I am sure I can oblige you, Mrs. Darcy. Let me just summon officers Denny and Carter. They are his closest friends in the regiment, and will certainly have the information you require."
He called for the man minding the door and asked him to summon the officers, and turned back to Elizabeth with another question.
"But may I ask what you intend to do about it?"
"I intend to assume his debt. If his intentions are honourable I have no doubt that we will be able to work out some plan of repayment without driving him to desperate schemes."
"I must ask you to consider the possibility that he is not so reliable."
Elizabeth was more impressed than she had expected to be with the Colonel's penetration, and began to see that she would be able to use his help. She decided to disclose some of her skepticism, but continued to conceal her actual certainty.
"In that case I will have legal recourse directly at hand, without having to rely on his creditors."
"That is true, Mrs. Darcy. It seems the most prudent plan."
"I must ask you, Colonel, not to reveal any such concerns to Wikham himself or his friends. They may not be entirely forthright in revealing his circumstances if they imagine that I inquire without the friendliest of intentions."
"Of course. You may rely on my secrecy. But here they come. Carter, Denny, I have just been speaking to Mrs. Darcy about Wikham. It seems he is to marry Miss Bennet."
The two men exchanged guarded looks, and Elizabeth could see that they knew something of Wikham's flirtations with her sister, and more importantly of his tale of Darcy's wrongs against him. She knew she would have to convince them of her sincerity.
"Indeed, I had never suspected an attachment. Mr. Wikham, it seems, is quite the romantic!"
"Indeed, Ma'am. He is most fortunate in that regard."
"But not so at the card table, eh? It seems Miss Lydia has heard talk of dreadful debts, and has taken quite a fright."
Denny laughed nervously, and attempted a response, but the Colonel forestalled him once again. Elizabeth was very glad for his intervention, and wondered how she could have extracted any information without his assistance.
"I know how it is, on a point of pride to get too carried away. I dare say the young ladies find it all the more thrilling. But we are among friends here, so do not be shy. It seems Mrs. Darcy is very ready to be generous on her sister's behalf."
"That is very kind of you, Ma'am."
"Wikham is an old friend of my family, Lieutenant Carter. I should be happy to do what little I can to secure my sister's happiness with him, and if there are any debts in the way I am well able to cover them."
"It is a capital offer of Mrs. Darcy's, but keep it a surprise for Wikham. I imagine his young lady will take pleasure in breaking the news. I imagine you will be able to supply us with a list of his debts without involving him in the matter."
"Of course, sir, directly."
Elizabeth returned to retrieve her sister after a full afternoon's work. Once the list had been procured, she and the Colonel had made the rounds of the city, visiting both respectable tradesmen and more unsavoury proprietors of gambling dens. There had also been a number of outstanding debts to other officers in the militia. The colonel's assistance had been invaluable, and Elizabeth was almost regretful that she had not trusted him with her entire plan of entrapping Wikham. But in such a matter she could not be too careful, and, on the whole, was happy that she had kept her own council. The hard work was done. The Darcy name was more than good enough to assume Wikham's debt, and she was armed with papers ensuring that Wikham owed her just under a thousand pounds. Men languished in prison for years for less than half such sums.
Lydia's day had, on the whole, been somewhat less productive. She and Harriet had spent it in their usual gossip and dissipation, but there was nothing new to be learnt of Mr. Wikham or his prospects. Elizabeth was determined to take this as a good sign. There was no contingency she had left unaccounted for. Now she had only to wait for the evening, and with it, for Mr. Wikham.
Part XXXVII
Darcy had settled with himself that his friend would know his destiny at the hands of the eldest Miss Bennet within a day or two of his arrival in Hertfordshire, and consequently, was unsurprised find the letter waiting for him. Bingley had sent an express; his wooing had not been in vain. He asked his friends to join him at Netherfield to share in his current happiness. Darcy was conscious of a sense of relief; despite his assurances to his young friend, he had not been quite so sanguine of a happy conclusion after his interference. And assured of a happy outcome for his friend, he allowed thoughts of self to intrude. Undoubtedly, Elizabeth too had already received similar information, and at the very least, she must suspect that he had played a role in ensuring it. But he could only guess as to whether such tidings could make her think the better of him, or indeed, if any tidings could ensure so happy an outcome. But though he had not been able to refrain from hoping thus when he had been in some doubt that this conclusion would come to pass, now it seemed but a hollow offering, designed to excite no stronger feeling than gratitude.
He wondered if the journey into Hertfordshire might be feasible under the current circumstances, but he could not see how such a thing would be possible. How would he and Elizabeth endure as guests together in another house, forced into a false impression of intimacy? For that matter, how would they endure the scrutiny of her nearest relations, given their current estrangement? Perhaps Elizabeth could go on without him, and he could plead business once again. He would make an appearance at the wedding, of course, but prolonging the visit could only bring him pain.
He went through his other letters, and started, as he saw the writing on one: surely it was addressed in Elizabeth's hand. Was it possible that she should be writing him after what had passed between them? Then he glanced back at the writing, and could not contain the disappointment that welled up when he discovered that it was addressed to the housekeeper.
Mrs. Harris was summoned to the study, and he handed her the letter, saying, "This found its way into my letters, Mrs. Harris. I believe it's one of yours."
"Thank you, sir. I'll have Adams be more careful when he sorts through the mail. I was wondering where this had gotten to."
"I noticed, that is, surely that is Mrs. Darcy's writing?"
"That it is, sir, and such an elegant hand it is. If I may say so, sir, you brought home a lovely young lady as your bride. She is all at ease and friendliness, no false dignity at all, and the most considerate mistress. There is not a thing that escapes her notice. Your mother would have been proud."
"Thank you, Mrs. Harris. Do you correspond often?"
"Why yes, Mrs. Darcy writes every week, and more often if there is something particular, and insists I do the same with her. There is so much for a mistress to look over in a house like this, and she is most careful that the menus and all the arrangements should suit your needs, sir. I believe she has written to Mrs. Reynolds as well, though she is not yet properly mistress of that house yet."
"Thank you, Mrs. Harris. That will be all."
As Mrs. Harris closed the door on her way out, Darcy sat back in his chair, absorbing what he had just learnt. He had absently remarked in his lethargy that the house was running itself, but he had never thought to realize that he seemed not to be needed in its running as he had been before he married. Now he learnt that Elizabeth had taken over those duties so completely of her own volition, for surely he would not have thought twice about it had she deferred them to him in her absence. But she was not a woman to shirk her responsibilities, and she was more than efficient in their undertaking. Mrs. Harris attested to it, but so could Darcy himself. He had not been required to examine the household books for months, but he looked now to find that Elizabeth had exercised admirable economy without compromising the liberality of his arrangements. The main rooms had always been kept in impeccable order, but the current project, he knew, was to air out the unused chambers one by one to ensure that they remained usable. He had been impressed by Mrs. Harris's foresight, but it was obvious now that such a thing was being done on Elizabeth's orders. And the menus -- Darcy almost smiled as he realized that it was his wife who was keeping track of his current diet, appetizing yet far from indulgent; how often had she gently teased him for his sweet tooth in happier days?
He left the study, and made his way to his chambers. Passing by Elizabeth's room, he paused, as he habitually did, and for once, he could not stifle the urge to enter. He was a little surprised to find that its furniture was not swathed in cloth; evidently the rooms were being kept in readiness for the return of the mistress. Though no piece of furniture had been added or displaced since the room had been his mother's, for Darcy, there were shadows of Elizabeth in every corner. The air, that had once hung thick with dust, now carried the lingering scent of Elizabeth's lavender water. But beyond this phantom presence, his wife had left her chambers unaltered, evidently by design; not a single personal possession of hers was anywhere apparent. The room quite lacked the cosy familiarity he had come to love it for, and that he now realized derived not only from her presence but also from her scattered mementos. Having come thus far, however, Darcy was overcome with the urge to find some concrete proof of her existence in his life. He realized with regret how little he had made the effort to understand her, and how little he knew of her likes and dislikes. He wanted to treasure what she cherished, and see her take pleasure in what delighted him.
With only a momentary hesitation, he opened the bureau. Here her personal effects were more apparent. He glanced over several slim volumes she had left with some surprise; among them were some of his own favourite works, as well as books that he had been meaning to acquire but unable to locate. As he leafed through the pages, he smiled at her scribbles in the margins; he himself never wrote in books, but her witticisms and observations were an asset rather than a detraction from the text. He put away the books, trying to leave them in a stack in the corner as he had found them, when he found that she had in fact left something behind them, and in astonishment, he found that she had left a considerable sum of money. Counting it, he realized that it was the entire sum he had left at her disposal for her personal expenses; she had accepted none of his money. Remorse washed over him as he recalled the accusation that had been implicit in their argument; Elizabeth was no mercenary. And if she had admitted that she had not accepted him for love, it fell for him to be grateful that she had accepted him at all, rather than expressing outrage at her questionable motives. Along with the money, however, there was one other item she had concealed behind the books, and it was to this that he now turned. Elizabeth had left behind a letter addressed to him, and dated on the night of their argument. When he had had so many apologies to make, he had remained silent, but she had not, and as shame for his own reticence welled over, he opened her letter with unsteady fingers.
Mr. Darcy,I do not even know how I am to address you; this opening bespeaks the utterance of even the merest stranger, and yet it is the only address I feel at liberty to permit myself. Perhaps I ought to have prefixed a 'dear,' and if you will permit me the familiarity and take it as thus written, I will have expressed my meaning slightly better.
I cannot tell how you will regard this letter of mine; in light of our recent conversation I would not be surprised if you did not read it, and yet I appeal to your sense of justice that you will allow me some explanation. You may wonder what I have to say that I could not have told you in person just now; I can only plead that I was not then sufficiently mistress of myself, and I spoke in anger what I did not mean.
You have never concealed from me your scruples about our marriage, and I have never been blind to the disparity of our situations. But I have had scruples as well, scruples that I ought to have acknowledged much earlier, and that I ought never have revealed in anger. But now there can be no further concealment, and I must hope that you will be willing to credit my account even now.
Your offer of marriage took me entirely by surprise; I had no notion of your partiality, and I had always assumed that you noticed me more out of dislike than any other feeling. I was surprised at my own acceptance as well, and over the next few days I frequently contemplated breaking our engagement. I will not attempt to deny that the awkwardness of my situation was one reason that I did not pursue this course, but I hope you will believe me when I say that my primary motive was quite different. I observed your increasing openness with some wonder, and it reinforced my growing conviction that our marriage would be a union that would further the happiness of each. But even as I grew happier about the impending marriage, I had meant to acquaint you with my misgivings, and tell you that my affection for you was created after our engagement and not before; I can only have accepted you for the most mercenary of motives. Why I did not make this disclosure I cannot say; but certainly I feared that such a revelation would destroy your affection for me.
But two other matters threatened my expectations of marital felicity even as I was increasingly inclined to acquit you of any cruelty, one of which I mentioned tonight. I speak of your role in separating your friend from my sister. My outburst on that score I can only call guilt; my sister's affections have stood the test of many months' suspense, yet I was the one so fortunate as to marry first, though my affections were created much later, and are far more suspect, being as they were, created after my engagement. Regardless of what light you regard me in for my own actions, I hope you will believe that Jane's regard for Bingley is entirely sincere.
The other is the account Mr. Wikham gave me of his dealings with you. I once blamed you based on this account, as you may remember from our early acquaintance, and lately what remained of my anger came from my guilt, that despite his story, I liked you well enough to marry you. On this score, I know not what to believe; I feel almost as Jane would, that there is some explanation that will temper his accusations of unmitigated cruelty.
This is, I know, insufficient apology for my words this evening, but I have no other explanation to offer, and I will not trouble you with hollow protestations. Having said so little, I lay no claim to your forgiveness, but trust only in your generosity. And I remain
Yours,
Elizabeth.
Convinced as he had been that she held him in utter contempt, Darcy was wonderstruck at Elizabeth's revelation. After that fateful night, he had thought himself presumptuous to even hope that she might ever regard him with any affection. Now he learnt that affection had existed before it, and persisted after. And if he had not been too proud to approach her, they might have made amends almost immediately. Her apologies were particularly poignant; he certainly was in no position to exact them. If his affection for her dated back further than hers for him, it had been a pale shadow of the regard in which he now held her. He too had truly learnt to love much later. It was a miracle under the circumstances that they had married when they had, and now they were throwing away their every chance of happiness. He had so callously spurned Elizabeth that she was reluctant even to use his name; she had signed only her first. He shuddered to think of his coldness in his dealings with her. He could hardly wonder that after such behaviour she had been reluctant to give him this letter -- perhaps he had even alienated her affections entirely. And Wikham -- now that he could complete the thought without subjecting himself to the worst of his fears, he admitted that at least some of his reluctance to make amends with Elizabeth had come from a lingering jealousy that she might care more about his nemesis than for himself. But she had been receptive to an explanation: it was his fault that none had been forthcoming. Such a situation could not be allowed to persist; he had lost precious time already, and could hardly afford to squander any more. The chances were that he had lost Elizabeth's affection forever, but while there was any possibility that she might return his feelings he had to know it, and to make what amends he could.
Roused to action, he crossed over into his own chamber, where his man was clearing his morning things.
"When you're done with those things, Morris, could you prepare a trunk? Not too elaborate, just for one or two days this time. We're leaving for Brighton to bring Mrs. Darcy and my sister home. And after that we'll all be traveling into Hertfordshire together."
Part XXXVIII
One task that Elizabeth had ignored in all her preparations for Wikham that evening was to assuage Georgiana's anxiety over his reappearance, and to justify to her the necessity of his return tonight. Elizabeth did not want to worry Georgiana unnecessarily, and did not want to tell her anything about the letters she had written until they were safely in her possession, and perhaps not even then. She had cautioned Lydia of the need for secrecy, and although she knew her sister well enough to realize that she would not make the most reliable confidante she nevertheless thought that Lydia had enough to engage her interest to refrain from mentioning the matter for this one day. Her trust had not proved misplaced, perhaps in part because Lydia had entertained her own visitor, Harriet Forster, for much of the day, and had had little opportunity to trade confidences with Miss Darcy. Now that evening had come it would be necessary to prepare Georgiana in some way for Wikham's visit this evening, and prevent her from possibly interfering. Now that Elizabeth was holding so many of the choice cards, she wanted to play a sole hand.
Accordingly, after an early dinner, she took Georgiana aside in her room and told her a carefully prepared story. Some version of the truth would have to be told, and Elizabeth did not hesitate to give Georgiana a full account of Wikham's desperate straits, and his necessity to flee town. His proposal could only be referred to in the most sanitized terms, and Elizabeth forbore from mentioning any offer to Georgiana or herself, saying only that Wikham had chosen Lydia as his companion. This much corresponded with what Georgiana knew already. Elizabeth told her further that Lydia's infatuation with Wikham was now at an end, eliding over the fact that Lydia now knew the entirety of Georgiana's past. To explain Wikham's return on the present night Elizabeth dissembled, saying that he was holding hostage some compromising correspondence of Lydia's, to persuade her to now come against her own will, and that these were the letters that Elizabeth would attempt to extract from him. Georgiana was understandably concerned on Lydia's behalf, but applauded Elizabeth's quick thinking and preparation, in assuming Wikham's debt. She volunteered the sum of money necessary for their purchase, feeling that some of the responsibility of the present situation was hers, but did not press when Elizabeth declined, not thinking that her brother's wife would have any actual need for her money.
Elizabeth, for her part, could not accept such a sum from her sister, yet forbore from thinking how she would procure such money herself. The sum that her father had settled on her would only just cover the actual debt itself, leaving her practically penniless, but more disturbing was the thought that in all probability Wikham would require more. After her marriage she had access to far greater sums than would be required on the present occasion, but she was reluctant to use her husband's money for such a purpose. Truth be told, though she handled the finances of the London townhouse as well as the temporary Brighton establishment, she had not spent a penny of the sum that had been laid aside for her personal expenses. At first she had simply never felt the necessity, living in all the surfeit of an opulent household with the endless gifts and tokens of her husband and his sister, and now, in less happy times, she found that she could not spend that money without proving herself to be the mercenary she had called herself and did not wish to actually become.
But that was a bridge she would have to cross when she came to it. For the moment, her name was enough to hold any creditors at bay, and she needed to concentrate on dispatching Mr. Wikham. With a final hug, she excused herself from Georgiana's room to head downstairs. She was intercepted in the hall by Lydia, who wished to have her own part to play in the evening's events, but she was firmly dispatched back to her own room. Elizabeth had quite enough to worry about for this one night without adding Lydia's loose tongue to the list. She finally made her way downstairs to the sitting room. Glancing at the piano bench, she acknowledged wryly that in all her current anxiety she had been putting in even less practice than was usual for her, but decided for the moment that she was simply too nervous to try her hand just now. It would certainly not do for Wikham to realize how violently her fingers were quivering. She took a seat on the sofa, instead, wondering how she should attempt to occupy herself while she waited. It was then, as though on cue, that the maid came in to announce Mr. Wikham.
He entered, suavely, with not the slightest trace of any embarrassment, and Elizabeth found herself wondering at his brazen manners, before recollecting to herself that he had not probably the slightest idea of what was to befall him.
"Mrs. Darcy."
His smirk was only too apparent, as though he particularly enjoyed giving her that particular appellation at such a moment, and her blood boiled over at what he implied by that tone of voice. She forced herself to remain calm in the face of his provocation, reminding herself that she was the amateur here and he the professional, and anger could only cause her to misplay her hand.
"I see you are all alone this evening. I take it that it is just to be the two of us, then? I may say that I rather happen to prefer it this way. Shall we away? Our carriage awaits, and I see no reason to tarry."
"A moment, Mr. Wikham. Aren't you forgetting something?"
"These, you mean?"
He extracted a bundle of letters from his breast pocket, but continued to hold on to them as he spoke.
"I thought you might have forgotten about them. You have had a good deal on your mind, I dare say. But not so easily, I'm afraid, my dear. Let us be on our way and I shall send them by post to your precious husband, or to dear Georgiana, if you prefer."
"I need them now. What guarantee do I have that you will send them if I come with you?"
"Only this, that with Darcy's wife by my side I shall hardly need his sister's letters. If I give them to you right now, I'm fairly confident that you'll send me off on my journey all alone, and that would never do. One has to think of all these things, unfortunately."
"I think I can give you something else to think about Mr. Wikham. Quite a different sort of journey, I'm afraid."
He looked at the piece of paper she handed him, and blanched for a second as Elizabeth brandished her own bundle, which he could recognize as the various promissory notes he had furnished to merchants and such at one time or another. Then he collected himself, and seemed to regain his habitual manner as Elizabeth continued to speak.
"I think you'll find that that will serve you well for a free journey to debtor's prison, and a lengthy stay there as well, if I'm not mistaken."
"And I think we both know that that will give you very little comfort if I drag the Darcy name down with me," he said, brandishing his own pile, "I'm sure we can come to some understanding."
"Nothing could be simpler, to my mind, Mr. Wikham. If you will give me your letters you may take your debts as forgotten, and we will each go our separate ways."
"I think not, Mrs. Darcy. You must be aware that even without those debts my situation with Colonel Forster will not allow me to continue in his regiment. I must quit Brighton in any case, and if you will not come with me I'm afraid I have very little inducement not to sully Miss Darcy's name."
"What did you have in mind, then, Mr. Wikham?"
"It's very simple. There is a regiment of the regulars in the North that I may join if I am able to put up the price of a commission. It will cost you less than ten thousand pounds. I assure you that your husband is willing to spend a good deal more to clear his sister's name."
"That is absurd, Mr. Wikham, as I'm sure you realize. I've spoken to Colonel Forster, who is waiting as we speak to have you removed to prison. It is a very remote possibility that you will be able to compromise my sister's reputation in any way even if you do retain the letters."
"That, Mrs. Darcy, is a risk you cannot afford to take."
"Do you really think I rate Georgiana's reputation so much above my own?"
Wikham started. This was an admission he was not ready to hear. He had assumed, ever since he had seen Elizabeth's first protective pose, that she would do anything to save her family, and that he could get away with his most outrageous demand. Now it appeared as though she too was primarily concerned with protecting herself. It was an attitude he should have expected, but somehow hadn't, in her. Now he sought to salvage an agreement that would keep him out of prison at the very least, realizing that she had next to nothing to lose in sending him there.
"Come, Mrs. Darcy, it needn't come to that. I would be more than happy to let you have the letters, if you will only be reasonable."
"Let's hear it. What do you want?"
"I must have some security of making my own fortune, Mrs. Darcy."
"I fail to see what security you could have with your expenses, Mr. Wikham. Let us just hear what you want."
"I must go abroad. The prospects there..."
"...for wooing unwitting heiresses cannot be much different from here, but I'm sure you know better. A channel crossing, then."
"A little further than that, I think. Italy has always caught my fancy."
"Italy it shall be, then. But in that case I will retain a copy of the debts I have assumed in case you should ever return to these shores."
"I don't anticipate the need to return."
"Then we are agreed, Mr. Wikham. I will just write up our agreement, and then if I could have the letters..."
"Not so fast, Mrs. Darcy. We will sign on it now, but I cannot give you the letters until I have my crossing confirmed."
"Very well, and you may have these at the same time. Where am I to find you?"
"I shall leave you with my London address. I think you will find, Mrs. Darcy, that I am a man of my word."
"When it comes to matters of your own benefit, Mr. Wikham, I do not doubt it."
They signed the paper that Elizabeth had been writing up in the meantime, and then Wikham prepared to take his leave.
"Farewell, Mrs. Darcy. It's been very pleasant doing business with you."
"Of some pleasures, I believe, a very little may suffice."
Elizabeth's biting response was more for her own satisfaction than for Wikham, and he seemed not to remark on it as he left. Elizabeth sat back, reflecting on what had passed. Certainly, she felt, it could have gone a lot worse. Had Wikham realized that there was no way that she could have allowed Georgiana's reputation to be compromised, he would have held out at least for his original demand. As it was, a hint that she might be callous of her sister's reputation had allowed her to buy him off far more cheaply, and, as a double surety, had secured against his ever returning to the country. But it was the matter of expense that troubled her. The original debt, when she repaid it, would take up most of her meager personal fortune. She simply did not possess the funds to buy Wikham his passage to Italy. Or rather, she knew exactly where the money was to be had, but she recoiled from using it for such a cause. She sighed. She would have to worry about the money later. For the moment, her uncle Gardiner would be able to tide her over, and she would have to leave the actual purchase to him in any case. She would worry about repaying him after all was done and settled with Wikham. She roused herself prepared to head upstairs, to give each of her sisters an appropriately edited account of the events of the night. But she had hardly stood up when she heard the knocker sound, and she stayed in the drawing room, half in panic that Wikham could be returning for something else yet again, for she could think of no one else to visit them at such an hour, when the drawing room door opened, and she saw, ahead of the maid who would have come in to announce him, the striking figure of her husband.
Part XXXIX
Elizabeth stood in unconcealed shock as her husband was shown into the room. For a second or two she could not look away from him, but then she suddenly recollected herself, and she could hardly look up to meet his eye. She knew somehow that he had entered the room, had looked around, and was presently approaching in her general direction, but how she knew this she could not have said, since she certainly was not looking at him, or in any way towards him. Eventually she gathered her wits so that she might be able to offer a greeting, but despite the time she took to prepare herself in offering it she could not keep out a sharp note of surprise.
"Mr. Darcy!"
"Mrs. Darcy."
It was the most formal of addresses from a husband to a wife, and yet that was not what she heard in it. It was a validation of her right to the name, and more than that, it was a possessive gesture. Or at least it was those things for a few magic moments, before she recollected herself and attempted to subdue her agitated heart.
"Is there anything I can get you? A glass of wine? Your journey must have been very tiring."
"Thank you, but please, do not trouble yourself. I am perfectly well."
She could find nothing further to say along such lines, nor yet could she meet his eye, so she busied herself in taking the seat she had just vacated, and entreated him to do the same. He did so, but though there were many chairs conveniently situated across the room he appeared to prefer the space on the sofa beside her at a proximity that was equally as delightful as it was disconcerting. She made to rise, not quite able to absorb all the flutter of emotion that this unexpected tête-à-tête had raised in her.
"Let me get Georgiana. She is resting upstairs, but I know she will be delighted to see you."
He caught her wrist, not forcefully, but firmly enough to prevent her escape. He was looking at her still directly. She remained unable to meet his eye.
"Georgiana can wait, Elizabeth. I came here to see you. To talk to you, really, although just looking at you is more than a privilege."
She fought valiantly to calm herself against such a declaration as this. As an overture it was unmistakable, but more, far more, remained to be said, mainly on her side. But most importantly she had to respond to him now, and she had no idea how such a thing was to be done safely, nor how exactly one introduced the subject of one's own blatantly unacceptable past behaviour.
"I am happy to see you as well."
"Have you seen me? I was beginning to have my doubts on the subject. You've managed to look about everywhere in the room save in my general vicinity. I do wish you would let me look at your eyes."
At which she had no option but to raise her eyes to him, blushing furiously as she marveled at his ability for good-humoured banter at such a time. For her part she had to concentrate every fibre of her being just to be able to speak.
"I have seen you. I couldn't exactly say how, since I was trying to study the pattern on the rug. It's very disconcerting when you stare at me like that."
He laughed slightly, and turned slightly towards her on the sofa. She realized then that he hadn't let go of her hand. He wasn't holding on to prevent her escape anymore, yet just the warmth of his hand on hers felt more intimate, somehow.
"I don't think I've ever managed to disconcert you before, just by looking at you."
"No, you did disconcert me, from the very beginning. I had no notion of what you were about."
For the first time he looked away, perturbed. Something of his assurance left had him and she realized he had interpreted his statement as a rejection.
"I had no idea that you didn't like my looking at you. You're so beautiful that I'm hardly able to look away, when you're in the room."
He was looking at her again, with a sort of entreaty in his features. It was disconcerting, still, but in an exhilarating sort of way. Yet much remained unresolved between them, and her exhilaration was fully tempered by her apprehension. Her shame at her previous conduct and her continuing insecurity as to the current state of his regard threatened almost to overwhelm her, but she knew that it was her turn to offer reassurance.
"I did like it, when I thought that might be what you were about. For a long time I thought you looked only to find fault."
She knew as she said it that she had not said enough, and wished for the courage to be able to say more as he chastised himself once again.
"I have never given you much reason to like me, have I?"
Looking into his eyes she made a sort of desperate resolution to say whatever she needed to say to him, for she knew well that despite his overtures the burden of apologies and disclosures fell to her.
"More reason than you have to like me. I have imputed the worst of motives to your every action, when you have not done anything that is not honourable and just."
"There was nothing honourable in the manner in which I proposed to you, nor any justice in the needless suffering I inflicted on my friend and your sister."
"You had every reason to think as you did. Judging from what my actions have been, your qualms were in every way justified. I must thank you again and again for securing her happiness in spite of every thing I've done."
"You have nothing to thank me for. I was shamefully lax in making the confession. Indeed I had observed the change in your sister's demeanor some time before our own marriage, and attributed it to Bingley's loss, but I was too wrapped up in my own happiness to make the necessary amendment."
"That may be, but I gave you every reason to discredit such a view. I thank you again and again for her happiness."
"You give me too much credit, Elizabeth. My motive was entirely selfish. I thought only to improve myself in your estimation."
"But it is I who owes you a thousand apologies! I have wronged you in every way."
"You have done nothing wrong, Elizabeth. The fault is mine for putting the worst construction on your actions."
"I have done nothing right since I accepted your proposal!"
"I do not think I would have preferred a refusal. I would have been sooner acquainted of my own faults, it is true, but I would have lost all hope of marrying the only woman I could ever love. I could never regret your acceptance."
She forced herself not to make too much of his declaration, intent on completing her apology.
"But I ought to have told you much earlier in a more temperate manner. I should never have concealed anything from you."
"Perhaps not, but no matter how temperate your manner, I would not have taken kindly to your disclosures. I am a selfish being, very accustomed to having my own way. Do not apologize, Elizabeth; I have treated you so boorishly that I cannot begin to earn your apologies. It is only my pride that prevented me from speaking to you earlier. I could not be sure of my reception, and I was afraid, though I did not admit it to myself. Then I found a letter you wrote to me, which gave me reason to hope."
"That is another instance of my cowardice. I ought to have had the courage to give it to you, but there was nothing that I could explain, even to my own satisfaction."
"It was I who made it utterly impossible for you to give it to me. I cannot think of my conduct without abhorrence. I found it just last morning. I could not stay out of your room, and I had to find anything that was yours. Then I saw the letter, and I knew that I had to see you. I did not come here to hear your apologies. It was shameful of me to have allowed you to leave without sorting this all out between us."
"Can you ever forgive me for having been so mercenary?"
"You are not a mercenary, Elizabeth. You did not take a penny of my money, as you well know. Why did you leave it all?"
"I had no need of half such a sum."
"Then you should have taken half such a sum. You have nothing to prove to me on that count."
"And I took Mr. Wikham's part. That is another matter where I thought the worst, without ever asking you for the truth of it."
"Oh, God, Elizabeth. I should have told you so long ago. When I think of how he might have importuned you. You must know the truth of it now."
"I do know. He did importune me...." she saw the stricken look on her husband's face and edited her disclosure: "that is to say, he promised my poor sister Lydia marriage in Gretna Green. I thought it best to remove her to this house to prevent an imprudent elopement, and Georgiana told me the whole of it when she learnt of it."
"I blame myself, Elizabeth, for leaving him in a position to make such an offer. I was too concerned for my sister's honour, and it never struck me that there might be others in the world whose sisters might be equally vulnerable. I had not the slightest idea that the militia were in Brighton, or I should never have allowed you or Georgiana to come."
"It is all for the best, and Lydia is safe now."
"I thank God for that, but I am selfish enough to wish that you had never been near him."
"There is something more that I must tell you..."
"No more explanations, Elizabeth, no more apologies. What was it you once said to me? Think only of the past as its remembrance brings you pleasure."
"An easier philosophy to espouse, I find, when one has not so much to regret."
He pulled closer to her, and taking her both her hands, earnestly made her eyes meet his.
"Truly, Elizabeth, you have nothing to regret."
She shifted uncomfortably, but did not shrink from his nearness.
"One thing, I think, I must regret, unless I correct it now."
"And that is?"
"That I never told you that I loved you. I have known it now for so long, but somehow I never found the words to tell you."
He brought her closer still, until she was well and truly in his arms.
"And do you love me still?"
"I think I will love you always. I cannot imagine not loving you."
His happiness was such as he had probably never experienced before, and Elizabeth marveled at how well the expression of heartfelt delight became him.
"You cannot imagine how I have longed to hear you say it."
Her happiness was equal to his, which is to say that it was unbounded, and she surprised even herself by proving capable of mirth at such a moment.
"I think I can, actually."
"Do you?"
"Yes, for I long to hear you say the same."
"Can you doubt that I love you? You will hear me say it everyday of our lives."
He kissed her, lightly, lingeringly. She smiled and drew him closer for another, when the maid entered with a discreet cough. Elizabeth blushed, but her husband, although releasing her from his embrace, would not allow her to retreat to any great distance.
"Begging your pardon, ma'm, but I thought you'd want to know. I've had the master's things taken upstairs, and cook was wanting to know if you'll be supping as usual in an hour."
"Yes, we will. Could you tell my sisters to join us downstairs then? And there will be an extra place, of course."
"Yes, ma'am."
She left the room, drawing the door behind her, as Darcy drew his wife close once again.
"We are liable at any moment to be interrupted here, sir. The girls will have heard by now that you are in the house, and Georgiana at least will want to see you."
"In that case, Mrs. Darcy, I wonder if you might direct me to my chamber? I find I am somewhat fatigued and in need of some rest before supper."
"I am afraid, Mr. Darcy, that I have no chamber to offer you in this house. Mrs. Annesley, your sister and I have one each, and my sister has taken the last available."
"Do you mean to banish me to the inn, in that case?"
"We might be able to reach some understanding. I do have a chamber that I might be persuaded to share, under the right circumstances."
"And those might be?"
"I would be happiest sharing with someone charming and considerate by the name of Darcy, but since it is hardly fair to ask Georgiana to give up her room I shall have to make do with you instead."
"I hope I am able to persuade you of the merits of that decision. In fact, if you will point me in the right direction, I might begin to persuade you right now."
"Up the stairs and the second door to your left, Mr. Darcy. Georgiana will be sorry to hear that she missed seeing you before supper."
"She will miss seeing us both, I'm afraid. I'm hopeless with directions, Mrs. Darcy, and I was hoping you'd be able to accompany me."
"You have just admitted to being ridden with fatigue and hopeless with directions. I'm afraid I'm not particularly persuaded as to your merits as a companion."
"I might offer one or two compensations for all that," he said, drawing her close for an ardent kiss.
"If that is how you mean to persuade me then I believe I must accompany you."
"I knew you'd come around to seeing things my way, my love."
He kissed her again, and it was some little time before they made it upstairs to the room.