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Part 15 ~ Mrs. Bennet's Talk
In which -
- Mrs Bennet prepares her daughters for marriage.
- Wicked Mary interferes.
While Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy were considering their routes to connubial bliss, Mrs Bennet was thrusting her own opinions on the brides-to-be and propelling them in exactly the opposite direction.
She had returned from the apothecary, armed not with Kitty's favourite cough syrup, but with another concoction, a malodorous suspension of salts, herbs and fish oil that could be used in the treatment of both fevers and colds. Kitty's fever had of course come down, but Mrs Bennet feared that it would return at any moment, and since the poor child also had a cold, she therefore administered twice the recommended dose. The rapidity with which Kitty's condition improved was quite remarkable - instantaneous in fact - but just to be sure, and staunchly overriding all of her patient's vigorous protestations, Mrs Bennet resolved to continue for a further week.
With emotions akin to maternal solicitude swelling in her breast, she next sallied forth to impart her wisdom upon her two eldest daughters. Sweeping down the staircase and into the sitting room, she found Jane and Elizabeth quietly embroidering.
What a charming picture they made! Mrs Bennet surveyed her two favourite daughters and sighed.
"My dear girls!" she said, and closed the door behind her.
Elizabeth leapt to her feet, flinging her needlework aside.
"Mama!"
Jane also rose, her eyes rounded with apprehension. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, backs to the wall, as Mrs Bennet slowly advanced.
"Mama, someone is coming!" said Elizabeth, pointing wildly to the window.
"Who can it be? We are not expecting anyone at this hour." Mrs Bennet tweaked the curtain aside, "Oh, Lizzy, it is only Mary! But it is just as well, for I should as soon get her over and done with, along with you and Jane, than go through the whole business again later - at my age one cannot be forever repeating oneself - and Mr Bennet has forbidden me to mention a word of this to Kitty until she is engaged to be married to a gentleman."
The two girls sank onto the sofa and clasped hands.
"Mary!" Mrs Bennet had poked her head out into the hall, "Come quickly! There is something that I need to tell you!"
Mary - for undoubtedly the first time in her life - entered a room and arrested the attention of all of its occupants. There was something peculiar in her air, an unusual lightness in her step and in the tone of her voice; she appeared to have taken possession of, or been possessed by, a certain je ne sais quoi. And besides all that, the left side of her face was twitching spasmodically in a rather disturbing fashion.
"Whatever is the matter with you?" said her mother, "But never mind, whatever it can be, I'm sure it is of no importance. Now, it may be a trifle early to talk to you Mary, but heaven knows someone should set you on the right course!"
Mrs Bennet looked at her third daughter severely, but to no avail. Mary's behaviour would have baffled the most discerning of observers, and her condition if anything appeared to be worsening. It was most vexing.
"Now girls!" Mrs Bennet pulled her chair forward a little and smiled strangely at them all.
"Mama," began Elizabeth, "If you mean to reassure us about... marriage, I think...I am certain... that there is no need! I assure you we are quite prepared, and to dwell needlessly on the subject would only..."
"Lizzy, don't talk such nonsense! There is no need to be shy - it is much too late for that! Delicacy, in a single woman of little fortune, is a virtue indeed, but once you are married you must learn, as I have done before you, to moderate your opinions! Certainly when it comes to matters of the boudoir, such modesty has driven many a respectable man into the embrace of a mistress! I have no intention of discussing the ins and outs...perhaps I should say, the particulars of the business - I know girls these days are quite well versed on such things, although it was not the way when I was young! And I'm quite sure that Mr Darcy will know perfectly well what he is about - he has that sort of look about him. I have an eye for these things...although we did misjudge him a little to begin with, did we not Lizzy? But great minds think alike!"
"And fools seldom differ," added Mary wisely.
"So Mr Darcy won't be needing any advice from me!" Mrs Bennet continued. "Although of course, if he...but perhaps not. Gentlemen always put a great deal of thought into these things; whatever they might have you believe! And as for Mr Bingley, Jane, well, he will benefit from the sweetness of your disposition...and I'll say a little prayer for you on the night!" She patted Jane on the knee, reassuringly. "But you cannot be fully prepared girls - you have no idea what lies before you!"
She laughed - and then stopped abruptly, "Have you?"
Elizabeth and Jane blushed and shook their heads firmly, looking fixedly at the floor.
"Merciful heavens! You gave me quite a turn!" Mrs Bennet fanned herself with her handkerchief. "How the neighbours would talk if...Oh, Mary!"
"No! No Mother, I have not!"
"Don't be silly child! Of course you haven't - I just wish you would not keep pulling such faces at me that is all! Whatever is the matter with you?"
"Mr Henry Allen has invited me to dance with him at the assembly next week - for almost the entire evening - and I have accepted him!"
No one could think of anything to say to this, so everyone said nothing - but at last the cause of her peculiar behaviour was apparent. Mary was experiencing an emotion of a wholly unfamiliar nature, and this emotion was manifesting itself on her face. She was happy - positively glowing with happiness, so much so that she was smiling, and smiling so broadly that her companions could see her teeth. Her facial muscles, unused to such performances, were under extreme duress, struggling to behave with consistency - and this accounted for the agitation of her features.
Mrs Bennet recovered herself quickly, for having received three bids for three daughters in a matter of months - one satisfactory and two exceptional - she felt that she had best deal with Mary before the tide of good fortune turned. She reappraised her third daughter, the runt of the Bennet litter, with a shrewd eye, and decided that although she had weak ankles and a skinny rump, her teeth, which had never before been seen, were uncommonly good. She would never fetch a good price in the marriage market, but if she learned to smile without frightening young men away, sooner or later an offer might be forthcoming. And there would be no haggling for a good price.
"You have accepted him? Is that so?" she said, with affection, "Then perhaps it is just as well that I asked you to join us. And he is a most charitable young man - I shall tell him so when I see him. And the Allens are a very agreeable family. I don't know why I ever disliked them - yes they are exceedingly agreeable! I shall add them to my list directly - and I am quite certain that Miss Bingley does not dine with five and twenty families, not even when she is in town! Now, what was I saying...oh yes, about being prepared! It would not do for you to be frightened out of your wits on your wedding night girls, and so you should be making good use of your private moments together before you are married - there will be ample time for conversation later on. But with all the walking you have been doing, I'm sure you have already taken care of the preliminaries, " she winked at them, "and dilly dallied in the woods a little!"
"No, Mother!" cried Jane.
Elizabeth looked appalled at the suggestion, but said nothing.
"Yes!" blurted Mary. They all stared at her. "Not I! Lizzy!" she pointed, oblivious to Elizabeth's glare. "I saw you!" she added cheerfully.
Mrs Bennet's fondness for Mary was certainly growing.
"That's enough Mary - you are upsetting your sister. This is hardly the time!" She whispered loudly, "Later on..."
"Do you often spy on people in the woods Mary?" enquired Elizabeth.
"No," beamed Mary. "It was quite by accident! But there is no need to concern yourself Lizzy, with regard to your very active participation, for at such times the gentleman is almost always to blame - indeed, I firmly believe that Mr Darcy was the chief instigator," she paused to reconsider. "Yes, I remember it perfectly - it was clear he could not have been easily dissuaded, although perhaps if you had refrained from putting your hands inside his coat...for he appeared to like that very much. That was when he began to squeeze your bottom."
"Mary!" gasped Elizabeth.
"Did he indeed?" enquired Mrs Bennet. "My, my...now that is a surprise to me - I would have judged him to be a breast man. Your father was always a breast man."
"Although I believe he was less pleased when you nibbled on his earlobe..."continued Mary.
"I most certainly did not!"
"Such is the fashion in town this season - if one believes what one reads. But really Lizzy, although I must admit that I was shocked by the wantonness of your actions, after considering the matter at length, I have concluded that you will not yet be cast into the Abyss of fire and brimstone. I have drawn some extracts on the subject, and it seems to me that this form of courtship ritual is advantageous to successful breeding, and to germination of the female seed."
Mary gazed dreamily out of the window, quite unaware of the diversity of feeling her words had provoked. Her three companions surveyed her - Mrs Bennet smiling tearfully, Jane shocked by her sister's wickedness - but she could not think ill of her; on the contrary, she could only blame herself - and Elizabeth debating on how one would inflict the most mischief on Mary's person with a sewing needle.
But there was more to come, for in Mary's daydream Mr Allen had now challenged Mr Darcy to a duel, and since she considered the incipient acts of violence to be an unsuitable tangent for a young lady's flight of fancy, she was reverting to the comforts of time worn morality.
"Lust," observed wicked Mary, who no longer piqued herself on the solidity of her reflections, " is a very common failing I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed, that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self complacency on the score of some amorous encounter or other, real or imaginary." She paused.
Mr Darcy had slain Mr Allen and was moving towards her, brooding and intense...
"Lust and love are different things..."
His hands were reaching out for her...
"though the words are often used synomin-...s...s...synonymously. A p...p...person may be lustful without being loving. Lust relates more to what we desire for ourselves, love to what we would wish others to feel for us."
"Oh be quiet Mary!" interrupted Mrs Bennet irritably, her hopes for Mary wavering with every sentence uttered. "Let me get on with what I have to say - now, Jane, Lizzy, I know you will be very eager for the first night alone with your husbands - Lord knows I was impatient myself, as was your father - yes, we were young once too you know!"
"Really Mama," exclaimed Elizabeth, "I do not think that Father would wish you to - "
"I used to call him Captain Bennet! Oh, but he was the handsomest young man that ever was seen! We were in such a rush to be married - no long engagements for us; why we hardly knew each other! But the times we had! Your father was so charming - he wanted only regimentals to be perfect...and indeed I did once ask him to wear a red coat, by way of a joke of course, and I offered to sew gold buttons and braid onto it, but - well, it was not to be. Mr Bennet found that he had business to attend to," Jane and Elizabeth exchanged looks, "and in fact, in the days and weeks that followed I saw less and less of him. He was working so hard, and spending much of his evenings in his library! So unfortunate!"
She fell silent, and Jane began to reach for her hand in sympathy, but before she could do so Mrs Bennet brightened and cried out in excitement.
"Oh Jane! I have it! Mr Bingley in regimentals! How dashing he would be! And such an obliging young man! I will have the coat fitted up immediately, and you can surprise him with it! Mr Darcy might not be so amenable Lizzy, but do not upset yourself, for he is very rich!"
"And very handsome," said Mary dreamily, "but appearances can be deceptive!" she added.
Mr Allen, who after all was not dead, but only pretending, employed foul play to overpower Mr Darcy.
"One should never judge a book by its cover!"
She extended her hand to Mr Allen and addressed the fallen Mr Darcy with dignity, "I shalt not covet another woman's husband, and a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." He vanished.
"Yes he is very handsome!" Mrs Bennet giggled. "If I were young again I would have my eye on him, I must say! Now let me quickly finish what I wanted to say to you, for I want to call on your Aunt Phillips at once - I have so much to acquaint her with! In any case, I am satisfied that all will be well with you both. My advice to you is simply this; do not worry yourselves unduly, remember that if problems arise, do not on any account mention them to your husbands until you have consulted with me, and be sure to drink plenty of wine before you retire with your husbands for the night."
She rose from her seat, and beckoned to Mary to follow.
"Come along Mary! You may accompany me. You can tell us all about...I know your Aunt will be very pleased to see you!"
Taking Mary firmly by the hand, she bustled from the room and prepared to walk to Meryton.
Part 16 ~ The Officer and the Gentleman
In which -
- Jane and Elizabeth have a girly talk
- Mary's dark powers strike again
- Colonel Fitzwilliam is very heroic
- Mr Darcy goes to bed with Kitty. No typo. He does. ;-)
Jane and Elizabeth, left alone in the sitting room, spoke not a word for some time after their mother's departure. That lady had been perfectly satisfied with the outcome of her interview, for a cursory inspection of her offspring had shown her that an impression had been made - whether for good or for evil she cared not, and she had important gossip to impart to her sister. Having said so much that should not have been said, while avoiding with admirable consistency all of practical value, it is as well that her eldest daughters were sufficiently wise to ignore her advice, and to rely instead on their own judgement. Each continued with her needlework, and the room, but for the placid ticking of the clock on the mantel and the steady drawing of thread through fabric, was quiet.
"Two," murmured Elizabeth at last.
"Pardon Lizzy?"
Elizabeth emerged from her trance, somewhat bemused. "Excuse me, I...was counting the days."
"As was I," said Jane with a smile, "And I also made it two."
"Good. I was afraid I might be mistaken!"
"Two days."
"And two nights."
They continued working, but Elizabeth in particular found that Captain Bennet would persist in intruding on her thoughts, and since she could not be diverted from the subject, there was no choice but to be diverted by it.
"Father would not look well in red."
"Lizzy!" said Jane, and then smiled. "But I think you may be right."
"Perhaps that is why he withdrew from active service. And took up a more...administrative post."
"At least he did not resign his commission."
"Or resort to desertion. I might not award him any medals for valour, but he has put in many long years of service."
Jane nodded.
"But Lizzy, what has come over Mary? I have never heard her speak so; she is not herself!"
Elizabeth shook her head wryly, but made no comment.
"And she tells us that you have dilly dallied in the woods!" Jane slowly threaded her needle.
"Perhaps a little," replied Elizabeth gravely, "A very little!" She put her work down. "And you and Mr Bingley have not?"
"No, not at all." Jane turned to her sister. "Charles has behaved with the utmost courtesy towards me at all times, even when quite alone. But I wish - I am very much afraid Lizzy, that sometimes I would like him to be rather less well mannered. But I am not surprised - I would not expect him to - and I would not wish to upset him."
"Perhaps he is unsure as to his reception. For he has already given us ample proof of the strength of his attachment to you, and I am quite certain that he is sorely tempted - as Mama would say, gentlemen are all the same!"
"But I have not tried to conceal my wishes Lizzy - I encourage him as much as I can. My feelings must be plain to him, and still he does nothing. I am afraid to do more lest I offend him."
The irony of the situation was not lost on Elizabeth, as she proceeded to voice to Jane the very opinion for which she herself had once ridiculed Charlotte.
"Sometimes Jane, it is a disadvantage to be so very guarded. Of course, given the serious errors in judgement that I have made over the past twelve months I would not stake my reputation upon this, but I would suggest that your composure and cheerfulness, when combined with Mr Bingley's diffidence, have resulted in a misunderstanding. Father was right - you are both of you so complying that you will defer to each other forever and nothing will ever be resolved! I believe that Mr Bingley is concerned that by breaking with convention he might offend you, and that all he requires is some gentle reassurance. If you have helped him on as much as you can, then perhaps all that he now requires is a good example to follow."
Jane waited hopefully.
"When he calls this afternoon, why not tell him about Mary's observations in the woods - perhaps were he to know that his friend is not above the occasional bending of rules, he might feel rather less constrained!"
Jane looked horrified, then pensive, and then suddenly optimistic.
"Although I must trust to your discretion," Elizabeth added, "in acquainting Mr Bingley with the facts only as necessary. And I must defend myself on one count - I did not, at any time, pay such intimate attentions to Mr Darcy's ear!"
"You know I would not think ill of you if you had Lizzy! I would hope never to be hasty in criticism of anyone, least of all you and Mr Darcy. And if he were to...behave as Mary described, I am sure that he would only do so with just cause."
Elizabeth took up book and idly turned its pages.
"Yes, only in times of dire necessity."
"After severe provocation."
They began to laugh, but something in the sound was strangely reminiscent of their mother. They fell abruptly silent, and shortly afterwards parted.
* * * *
Georgiana arrived at Netherfield that afternoon, and although weary from her travels, scarcely had she been received into the house by her hostess, when she quietly made her inclinations known to her brother. She was eager to see Elizabeth and Jane, with whom, during her previous stay in Hertfordshire, she had developed a steady and affectionate friendship. An excursion to Longbourn was infinitely less tiring than the simpering pleasantries of Miss Bingley, and since Mr Darcy as always would do in a moment anything that would give his sister pleasure, the plan was soon fixed upon. Since the weather was fine, the prospects for a brief walk before dark were good. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Bingley readily agreed to the scheme, and within half an hour they reached their destination.
Upon their entrance, Mr Bennet emerged at once from his library with his wife trailing closely behind him. Mrs Bennet was not much given to paying him visits in his library, for the room had a studious atmosphere that set her poor nerves quite on edge. Fresh from her visit with Mrs Phillips however, she had invaded his den, and like a fox fleeing a hound, he quit the room, with a wild look in his eye. He was aware that in a matter of days, when the excitement was over, she would be calmer, more tolerable company, but it was now that the reality of the situation hit him with its full force, that the two daughters of whom he was most fond and truly proud, would shortly be leaving the house forever. He resolved to start as he meant to go on, and perceiving that the young people did not expect his company, and relishing their surprise, he announced that he would join them on their excursion.
* * * *
A peculiar sound was emanating from Mary's room. Kitty had been listening to it for almost an hour as she lay in her bed trying to read. First had come the strange clickety-clack sound, and shortly after that a neurotic humming. Disillusioned with her book, in which the Villainous Viking had reformed, married an intelligent, sensible young woman and become a schoolteacher, she clambered out of bed and tiptoed to Mary's door.
She peered through the keyhole. Mary was standing in the centre of the room, holding a pillow at arm's length in front of her and bobbing up and down rhythmically. Then, tutting discontentedly, she discarded the pillow and began to walk backwards and forwards with a book on her head, beating out the time with a pair of crochet needles. She was practising her dancing.
Kitty would have laughed at her sister, but Mary suddenly turned and walked towards the door. Kitty fled, but alas, she found that she had somehow overlooked the door to her own room and was instead standing at the top of the staircase in her nightgown, her untamed hair falling about her shoulders, and caught, transfixed, by the impenetrable gaze of Mr Darcy.
Now Mr Darcy had little interest in Kitty Bennet. She was a silly girl, possessing neither a pair of fine eyes nor a lively mind, and he had no desire to look upon her in her night attire. It was fortunate therefore, that he was staring into space, utterly oblivious to her presence, when she made her improper display on the staircase. Perhaps if she had been modelling her corsetry he would have given her a second glance - purely for research purposes - but as it was, he was merely attempting to stand unobtrusively in the hallway so that Mrs Bennet would overlook him and fawn over the Colonel instead. The curtains were the same colour as his coat, so he had carefully placed himself in front of them.
Kitty, whose heart had ceased to beat, was lost for a moment in the intense darkness of those eyes. Feeling faintly delirious, her condition was worsened by lack of food and surfeit of cough syrup, and the room began to spiral about her in an intoxicating fashion. She decided that she must retrace her steps immediately, but before she could do so she heard a humming noise in her ear, then a malevolent clickety clack! and she was tumbling forward to her death.
Mrs Bennet, for perhaps the first time in her life, did one of her daughters a great service, for if she had not been talking incessantly to Colonel Fitzwilliam, he would not have been driven to distraction, and if he had not been driven to distraction he would not have been glancing around in search of escape, and....he was therefore the first of the company to see Kitty's limp form hurtling down the stairs. He ran forward, pausing only to make his apologies to the mistress of the house with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man, his arms outstretched, to save the young lady from striking her head violently upon the stone floor.
And such were the peculiar circumstances surrounding Miss Catharine Bennet's first swoon - not only was an ambition accomplished, but with such success that the lady in question awoke to find herself in the arms of no mere private or captain, but a man of no less distinguished rank than that of colonel. Had he been in his uniform, the fairytale would indeed have been complete, but an unknown effect of Mr O'Donnell's cough syrup - aside from loss of appetite - was blurring of the vision, disorientation, and spots before the eyes - in Kitty's memory therefore the Colonel was perpetuated in red, and no one had any reason to inform her otherwise.
The rest of the company did of course rush to his aid, except for Mary, who descended the stairs at a discreet velocity, disposed of her crochet needles before they could instigate any further mishaps, and reflected on the moral of this cautionary tale, that it is imprudent conduct in young ladies to loiter aimlessly at the head of a staircase.
When Kitty awakened she was able to tell them that she was not seriously injured, although the same could not be said for the Colonel. Mrs Bennet had been searching his face for signs of admiration of her daughter, and had caught sight of a wound in his neck, almost concealed by his clothing. She began to declaim that his throat had been cut, that he was mortally wounded, and that the Bennet family was indeed marked out for misfortune, but finding that the Colonel had been entirely ignorant of his injury, her wailing was curtailed and she calmed herself.
Further examination revealed that the wound was merely a scratch, or rather three scratches in parallel, suggesting that a wild animal had recently mauled him. The Colonel had no recollection of any such attack, but as his gaze met Darcy's and took in the latter's startled and appalled expression, a ghastly pallor overspread his face. Confronted by such indisputable evidence of his worst fears, he trembled and then staggered - it must be allowed however, that his gallantry extended so far as to not drop Kitty unceremoniously on the floor, thus allowing Darcy to step forward to assist him.
And such were the even more peculiar circumstances in which Kitty, having the most wonderful afternoon of her life, found herself being carried up to bed by Mr Darcy. Many a lady might have envied her good fortune, but solace may be drawn from three facts: firstly, they were accompanied by Mrs Bennet, who recounted to the gentleman the entire story of Kitty's fall from a tree at the age of thirteen, and how she had landed on her head. Secondly, that the satisfaction of this wondrous event was such that Kitty never again felt the need to peruse a novel of such dubious quality, that Lydia's exploits paled into nothing by comparison, her influence on Kitty was eradicated, and Kitty was left to follow the example of Elizabeth and Jane, and to become a wiser and less insipid young woman. Thirdly, her wits were thrown into such disarray, that as Mr Darcy laid her down on her bed, she bid him good night - it was mid afternoon - and then without warning she hiccupped loudly.
It is fortuitous indeed that gentlemen of Mr Darcy's standing come fitted with selective hearing - he merely expressed his hope that she would soon recover, read the title of the book by her bed, read it again, repressed a derisive snort, and moved to the door to take his leave. As he turned the handle however, something possessed him, and hardly knowing what he did, he turned around and smiled at the two ladies. Mrs Bennet's cheeks turned pink, Kitty's became much less white, and he closed the door behind him. He paused briefly to listen to the giggles, and then descended the stairs at a recklessly brisk speed.
The party then left for their walk.
Part 17
In which -
- Mr Darcy puts his foot in it.
- Passion is awakened between Jane and Bingley.
- Mr Bennet has some fun.
Elizabeth could scarcely contain her irritation, as she observed her father joining Jane and Mr Bingley at the head of the party, and falling into conversation with them. As the moments passed, discussion between the two men in particular became increasingly animated, and Jane slowly fell silent. With little time remaining till dusk and the return to Longbourn, Elizabeth's hopes for her sister's happiness were dashed. How unlucky that on the rare occasion when privacy was required, her father should choose to be sociable!
Behind Elizabeth and Georgiana, Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were also singularly uncommunicative. The Colonel was still reeling from shock, daring not to imagine what had taken place in the darkness of his room the previous night. Darcy, understanding his cousin as he did, had patted him on the shoulder, but offered no words of sympathy, only the assurance that he would do whatever was necessary to aid his cousin in his plight - for he felt himself to be in part responsible for Miss Bingley's disordered state of mind - and then walking quietly by his side. That the subject of his own ensuing reflections had little to do with his cousin was, he hoped, of little matter - he was ready and willing to listen if required, and in the meantime, as his days of bachelordom drew to a close, he found his thoughts drifting inexorably, in more cheerful directions. With the same blitheness of spirit that had bestowed a smile on Mrs Bennet and Kitty, he now observed Elizabeth, who walked in front of him. He endeavoured to do so in a more discrete manner than was his wont, for although in general such feasting of the eyes might be construed in a romantic light, from his present vantage point, it could only be suggestive of baser instincts.
His efforts were not entirely successful however, as she had a most enticing walk, and the pleasure of following her movements was such that a newly observed failure of perfect symmetry in her form - he estimated that her left leg was perhaps one quarter of an inch shorter than the right - was cast from his mind without remorse. In fact, so preoccupied, so entranced was he by the light spring of her step and the provocative swaying of her hips, that he failed to take note, as others had done before him, of the path under his feet. Had he done so, he would have deduced that horse riders had recently made use of this path, he would have altered his course as necessary, and all would have been well. Sadly, it was not until his foot fell onto an unusually soft, raised area of terrain, that he looked down and saw the horrible thing that had come to pass.
He continued walking without hesitation, for it was of paramount importance to conceal this error. It was a fitting office for his betrothed, to prune his pride to more manageable proportions, but to be seen by Mr Bennet dislodging clods of horse-dung from his shoe would be insufferable. Such was a humbling he was not prepared to undergo. How he had allowed this to happen he could not conceive, as stepping in such repugnant substances was utterly beneath his dignity. He could not in good conscience blame Elizabeth; he was as ever, very cautious in allowing his resentment to be created, and it could hardly be held against a lady for becoming not only handsome enough to tempt, but handsome enough to make a gentleman forget himself and trample in horse-droppings. He was forced to conclude that there were, after all, certain dangers in staring so much at his fiancé, and to direct his resentment, which once created was unappeasable, at the cursed four-legged fiend that had slopped its evil business so liberally in his path.
Action however was required at once, as an appalling warmth penetrated to his foot. The horses had apparently passed by very recently. He drifted slightly to the left, and in so doing was able to brush the offending foot in the undergrowth several times, before Colonel Fitzwilliam's attention was fleetingly drawn by the lolloping gait of his companion.
The worst of the atrocity had been removed, and after several minutes of quietly walking through puddles (which were few and far between - it had been the driest December for several years), Mr Darcy was feeling more optimistic, when yet another cruel stroke of ill luck befell him. Negotiation of a narrower section of the path had resulted in a rearrangement of the group, and as the path forked and came together again, he found himself walking next to Mr Bennet
"What is that noise?" Asked the Colonel, from behind them.
At this Darcy felt it necessary to utter a slight falsehood, and then to continue talking without pause, lest anyone else notice the squelching of his wet shoes. The first subject that came to his mind, was not surprisingly, the wedding preparations.
"Ah yes," smiled Mr Bennet, "Mrs Bennet was imparting her wisdom on Jane and Lizzy only this morning. I'm quite sure you will experience the benefits yourself before many days of your marriage have elapsed."
He looked at Mr Darcy with so odd a mixture of sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice that the other gentleman was at a loss for words; he could only clear his throat, and cough and beg pardon, before inarticulately expressing his gratitude. Then he dragged his walking stick along the ground loudly.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, was feeling increasingly cheerful. Jane and Mr Bingley had become separated from the others by a short distance, Jane appeared to be walking rather slowly, and the gap was increasing. Leading the walkers briskly onwards, with a few sharp turns through the woods, Elizabeth soon left her sister behind, with very little chance of encountering her again until they reached the lane, and turned for home.
In addition, while carrying on conversation with Georgiana, she could hear that Mr Darcy was conversing with her father with a surprising degree of enthusiasm; indeed, on two occasions he had been heard to laugh, causing the ladies ahead to abandon their own topic in favour of eavesdropping. Georgiana, more accustomed to listening than speaking, had particularly sharp hearing, and could supply Elizabeth with whatever snippets of the dialogue that she could not make out by herself.
Elizabeth's pleasure however, was short lived. Glancing back at Mr Darcy, she observed such a look of jollity in his countenance, as told her at once that something was seriously amiss.
Mr Bennet was saying, "And it seems that, of all people, Mary has ensnared a young man, and she too was offering up her thoughts on the subject of romance, for the enlightenment of her sisters. I know not what - or who - has inspired this change in my most studious daughter, but I suspect no harm will come of it. She has been spending less time in the house lately, and a young lady may do worse than indulge in the occasional solitary walk in the woods."
Mr Darcy, who had been attending but little to his companion, but searching frantically for a topic on which he could speak at length and with a high degree of fluency, was horrified at this turn of the conversation. He had a very good idea what Mary's observations in the woods had been, and it was a matter of course that if those observations came to the knowledge of Mrs Bennet, they would be well known all around the county in a matter of days. Mr Bennet, whose keen eyes even now were fixed upon his face, had, no doubt, already been acquainted with the facts. He, Darcy, would normally respond to such treatment with the utmost hauteur, but with wet and stinking socks, he found that he could not meet the eye of his tormenter. He was saved from the trouble of responding by Elizabeth and Georgiana, who had fallen back and - rather rudely it might be said - surrounded Mr Bennet. Mr Darcy rejoined his cousin, in silence.
The problems of Jane and Bingley, now at a safe distance from the others, were much closer to resolution. Jane had described the morning's distressing events, expressing her genuine surprise at Mary's tactlessness, and the revelations that had been made. She looked up at Mr Bingley shyly, to see how he received the news.
"I am not in the least surprised." He said, and unknowingly caused the faintest of ripples in Jane's serenity. Those who knew her well might have sensed her surprise.
Bingley looked at her, and frowned with effort.
"You are surprised!" he concluded. "Why should you be surprised that I know something?"
Jane murmured that she did not know.
"I would have expected such behaviour from Darcy - he has never been a man to beat around the bush, and is accustomed to getting his own way when he wants it! Besides, I saw Darcy up to mischief in the grounds of Netherfield, as did both of my sisters, the gardener, the stable boy, and two of the maids. In broad daylight; he was hardly discreet! And I suspected that there was some tomfoolery going on, the other evening, when we played charades. What's a fellow to think when he finds two lovers behind a locked door? I heard a giggle - and when Darcy opened the door, he had a smug look on his face. I can always tell when Darcy looks particularly pleased with himself that he has done something ungentlemanly."
Waves of emotion rose within Jane's bosom, and her eyes were round with wonder.
"Well, may the devil take me!" cursed Bingley, "why does every soul upon the face of this earth take me for a fool? Darcy may be clever, but I am by no means deficient!"
He would have begun to squeak, for his voice had a tendency to rise in pitch with emotion, but this afternoon he had a bit of a sore throat. The effect, therefore, was rather more restrained, and infinitely more dignified. Jane squeezed his arm, and her heart fluttered.
"Charles, do not upset yourself! I do not underestimate you, but I did not think for a moment that you would question the morals of your closest friend!"
Bingley scowled.
"Morals? Why would I question his morals? If a man wants to kiss the woman he is to marry in two days time, and she has no objection to put to him, then who the devil should care, or criticise him for it? Must he spend every moment of his engagement in suspense, buttoned up to the neck with good breeding until he forgets what is to be a man?"
He brought his walking stick down on the ground with force, and turned to Jane, and there was passion in his eyes.
"Jane?"
"Yes Charles?"
"I didn't ask you before now, because..." he cleared his throat, which was now very sore, "...well...d'you think...would you mind terribly much... if I kissed you?"
Jane smiled.
"My dearest Charles!"
Without further hesitation, she removed his walking stick from his hand, and dropped it to the ground. They moved closer, and then a bit closer still, and although they began with caution, they quickly found that between them lay sufficient strength of feeling to vanquish any further embarrassment or restraint. It was much later and twilight was upon them, when they parted and began their walk back to the house. Had Mr Bingley been able to observe himself, he would have concluded that he was looking particularly pleased with himself, and had probably done something very ungentlemanly indeed.
They met the others at the gate. Mr Darcy looked exhausted.
"Well, thank you, one and all, for the pleasure of your company!" said Mr Bennet. "I feel quite refreshed." He paused, and frowned slightly. "Your cologne, Mr Bingley...is it the same as Mr Darcy's?"
Bingley looked at him blankly. "I don't believe I am wearing any sir." He replied. Darcy groaned.
Mr Bennet leaned slightly closer, and inhaled thoughtfully. "Yes, I believe it is the same as Mr Darcy's - I commented on it the other day. Very pleasant, very pleasant indeed, but with a feminine quality that surprises me - but obviously it is in vogue at the moment. I am sure you like it though, Jane - and Lizzy too - for you often wear something very similar. What next, I cannot guess - but I am too well on in years to think much of these things!"
Mr Bennet smiled with great fondness at Jane, who was looking fixedly at the ground. His last remark as he entered the house was, "Now, I shall call Hill to your assistance Mr Darcy, or you shall have a most unpleasant ride home in the carriage. Lizzy, be a good girl and see that Mr Darcy's shoes are cleaned for him, would you?"
With a sigh of deep satisfaction, he entered his library and closed the door.
Part 18
The next day saw the arrival of the first of the wedding guests. The Gardiners were joyfully welcomed into the Bennet household, Mr and Mrs Collins were received at Lucas Lodge, and other relatives and friends settled themselves nearby.
It was an exhausting day of calls and introductions. Trunks were packed and arrangements finalised, so that the following day, the last before the ceremony, might be left as free as possible for celebrations, including a grand ball and supper at Netherfield.
Miss Bingley was overseeing the arrangements for this, but her initial enthusiasm had dwindled. No longer anticipating Mr Darcy's approval, to be won through a lavish supper, and music and entertainments of the highest calibre, she had abandoned many of her more elaborate plans. In addition, Mrs Bennet was reluctant to dispense with tradition entirely, and desired that the brides' family should be involved at every stage in the planning of the event. With this in mind, she had had the temerity to call at Netherfield on several occasions in the last fortnight, and in consequence, a despairing Miss Bingley, after many a tête-à-tête with that infuriating woman, was beginning to talk with a degree of seriousness of handing the whole business over to the local inn.
As for Mr Darcy, he spoke of the affair with unprecedented good humour, realising as he did that as this was one of those rare occasions where an assembly of well wishers must be endured, then a fair portion of the evening might be most pleasantly whiled away by dancing - exclusively - with Elizabeth. And if the company chose to refer to him once again as the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world, and to hope that he would never come there again, he felt that he could bear it very well. Moreover, he would be hard pushed not to smirk at them brazenly.
The only issue on which he was at all troubled was that of the seating arrangements for supper. Here he was at the mercy of Miss Bingley's uneven temper. She would have no option but to seat him near to Elizabeth, but as the evening was to be an informal one, he might well find himself pinioned between Mrs Bennet and Mrs Phillips, with Elizabeth left to flounder under the slavering jowls of Mr Collins.
He mentioned his concern to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who after a restful night's sleep, was restored to his usual optimism and good humour, and eager to reaffirm his valour.
"I share your sentiments Darcy. I myself would not wish to be -... but perhaps if...."
"If?"
"Hm...leave it with me Darcy. I shall take care of it."
Later that afternoon, Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy called to pay their respects to Mr and Mrs Gardiner, and then, with Jane and Elizabeth, spent a pleasant half hour strolling around the gardens. The Gardiners, who remained indoors seated near the window, noted with a quiet exchange of smiles that the two couples drifted apart shortly after leaving the house and then made for the most secluded areas of the grounds.
Elizabeth and Darcy had much to speak of, as in recent days moments of privacy had been scarce. After making polite enquiries after Kitty, and hearing of Mary's budding romance with Mr Allen (this news he received with great relief), Mr Darcy acquainted Elizabeth with the latest occurrences at Netherfield, notably the nighttime exploits of Miss Bingley. Oddly, he seemed reluctant to dwell on this subject for long, and soon steered the conversation in another direction.
"I hear that your mother spoke to you yesterday, on...the trials of marriage," he said, smilingly.
"Oh," said Elizabeth, suddenly downcast. "Yes, she did."
There was a long pause before Mr Darcy spoke again, with rather less assurance.
"I'm sure she had much to say on the subject." He looked at her intently.
"Of course. But I must admit, the whole business was something of a revelation to me; I will not soon forget anything that was said."
She now looked up at him with such an expression of pained resignation, that Mr Darcy slumped visibly and sank onto a nearby bench, still wet from a recent shower of rain. He noted the progress of the water, as it soaked slowly through his coat and into his trousers, with perfect indifference.
"A revelation!" he repeated, with a wry smile.
There seemed to be nothing more to say, for if her mother's information had been a cause of embarrassment, any further enquiries on his part could only make matters worse. He was disappointed, all the more so with the realisation that yet again he had misjudged Elizabeth. Their lovemaking had of course been greatly limited both by sense and by circumstance, but in all her responses he had rarely detected a trace of self-consciousness, and recently, far from imposing himself on her, her behaviour to him had often been, as she playfully referred to it, bordering on the impertinent. The liveliness with which she had first enchanted him had certainly not fallen shy in their few moments of physical intimacy; her assurance was such that she had often wholly forgotten to seek his approval, and it was precisely by this lack of deference and attention that he had been roused and interested!
He looked up at her, searching her face for the signs he had missed, of this fragile feminine delicacy, but he could see none. He was bewildered by the inconsistency of her behaviour; in fact, as she moved towards him, lowered herself gently onto his lap and drew his arms around her waist, she had all the appearance of profound satisfaction. Could this be because he was sitting on a wet seat and she was not?
The answer came to him in the lowest and softest of whispers, her cheek resting against his own, her breath warm upon his neck.
"You forget, Mr Darcy, that I have pledged to tease and quarrel with you as often as may be."
He digested this for a moment, whilst staring at a tree. Then his gaze shifted in her direction, and a slight frown could be perceived.
"And my good qualities are under your protection and you are to exaggerate them as much as possible," she finished, ending rather hastily and placing a series of little kisses around his temple, as if to bring certain good qualities to his immediate attention.
He could not help but smile, just a little; his desire for vengeance quashed - for a moment at least - by relief, and as her kind devotions made their way across his brow and wandered slowly down towards his neck, he concluded that there was, after all, a lot to be said for officious attention from a lady, and that it should not be dismissed out of hand.
"So," he said stiffly, "may I conclude that no revelations of a startling nature have been made to you, and that our prospects have not been blasted to oblivion by the all-accursing harpy that is your mother?"
Elizabeth giggled, resulting in the raising of an eyebrow.
"I believe that description would be more aptly applied to your aunt Catherine, but you should assume no such thing sir, for although my mother had nothing of importance to say, Mary was also present, and her powers of discernment should not be underestimated!"
Mr Darcy would have snorted, but he was being haughty. However, since in a matter of days he would be displaced from Elizabeth's family by several hundred miles, he was prepared to be amused, and allowed her to continue. She omitted certain elements of the previous morning's discussion - the memory of Captain Bennet, she felt, would be better laid to rest - and she said nothing of Mary's most embarrassing disclosures. When she had finished, he sighed.
"Well, I had expected worse. I was aware that Mary had been telling tales; your father implied that much to me yesterday. But you have not told me all - so it is fortunate that I am already acquainted with the freshest intelligence from the village. How did they put it? I would like to do their eloquence justice. Apparently, I am not..."a breast man"."
He paused, and when no answer came, with a gentle touch of his fingertips he closed Elizabeth's mouth, which had fallen open.
"I believe that Margaret, a maid at Netherfield, had it from the maid of Mrs Long, who had it from Mrs Ingram - no, forgive me, in fact I believe it was Mrs Long who told Mrs Ingram - I would not wish to do her a disservice, for she heard it first - and Mrs Long from Mrs Phillips, who was called upon by your mother and Mary yesterday afternoon."
Elizabeth was still incapable of speech.
"Margaret and her friend seemed to be quite put out by the news. I know that the good ladies of the neighbourhood do not like to be surprised by eligible bachelors - it makes the business of marrying them off to the most appropriate lady much more difficult to judge. As I have already surprised them on several occasions, to be deceived yet again at this late stage must indeed be a blow to their confidence. They were more diverted, however, by an additional piece of news - responsible, no doubt, for the stifled laughter that I left in my wake when I rode through Meryton this afternoon -" He paused for effect, "the news that I, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, had been seen to squeeze Miss Elizabeth Bennet's bottom."
Elizabeth groaned, and covered her eyes.
"Perhaps for their benefit I should take pains to do so more often, but although I endeavour to be a charitable man, I do not consider their cause to be a worthy one. With that in mind, Elizabeth," he removed her hand from her face and addressed her earnestly, "I would like to emphasise that any further incidents of this nature will occur purely for reasons of selfish gratification, and not for the entertainment of your mother or her friends."
He smiled, seeing the confusion his long and peculiar speech had caused; and as he pulled her closer, Elizabeth at last began to smile in return.
"Perhaps," he suggested, with more than a hint of complacency, "as I have been teasing you, it should now fall to you to exaggerate my good qualities?"
This was too much.
"My faith in your good qualities had been somewhat shaken!" said Elizabeth. "You seem to think nothing of eavesdropping on the private conversations of servants."
"I am heartily ashamed of myself, I confess. In fact, I cannot think of it without abhorrence. It was a moment of weakness - I was reading A Vindication of the Rights of Woman*, but when I heard such wild accusations being made against me I found it rather difficult to regain concentration."
He tried to look repentant, and failed.
"It is a remarkably tedious book!" he protested.
"But you surprise me Fitzwilliam. To bear all of this with such good humour, without resentment...I am -"
"All astonishment?" He toyed with her fingers, and took her hand in his own. "There was a time - before responsibility - when I was able to laugh at myself and at others, although perhaps not as often as I should. In recent years I have found little occasion for humour. But your efforts have not been ineffectual - and your companionship has been a relief to my weary existence. Even I cannot abide in a state of perpetual disgust. For months I have borne with obsequious civility, inane chatter and...with Mrs Phillips. Against it all you have struggled ceaselessly to defend me - and all of this has served only to add to my hopes for the future. With only one full day in Hertfordshire remaining, I choose to be happy. I shall not be swayed by idle gossip."
Elizabeth smiled with gratitude and relief, and leaning forward, she rested her brow gently against his and closed her eyes.
"I must say," he said, a moment later, "that I find their logic rather primitive." He kissed her softly on the cheek. "A gentleman's tastes cannot be divined from one instance - my preferences are yet to be decided."
"So the allegations made against you are unfounded?"
"I assure you that nothing could be further from the truth."
"Well of course," replied she, "you have insufficient evidence from which to draw any reliable conclusion."
"I would not like to be rash."
"And you never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"
"I hope not."
With this they tired of banter, and moved on to other quieter pursuits. Elizabeth satisfied herself that he was not at all narrow minded, and that like herself, he could take pleasure in many things, and he, by the time he joined a pink cheeked and excessively cheerful Bingley in the carriage, had reassured himself that she had lost none of her impertinence, and that she would continue to treat him with as little respect as ever.
Barely an hour after falling asleep, Elizabeth sat up abruptly in bed and stared, unblinking, through the darkness. She waited, but nothing stirred. Something had disturbed her, of that she was sure. She got out of bed, wrapped herself snugly, and stepped out onto the landing.
Her first thought was of Mary, but that young lady was sound asleep, her meagre fire long since burnt out, and she did not appear, on this particular night, to pose a threat to anyone's safety.
Kitty likewise, was sleeping peacefully, and after listening for a few moments in the hallway, Elizabeth returned to her room.
Then she heard it; the noise of footsteps outside, on the stony path beneath her own window, moving slowly away from the house.
She pulled her curtain aside cautiously, and peeped out just in time to see the tall figure of a man, dressed in a long grey coat, stepping off the lawn into the shadows of the trees beyond. There he remained, as if watching the house and waiting. Elizabeth shivered - she was afraid, undeniably so - and then berated herself, for the curtain had moved with her hand and she had been seen. The intruder stepped forward and raised his hand in a wave - tentatively, as if not certain whom he addressed.
She all but cried out in relief, and at once began to make her way downstairs. As she fumbled her way through the blackness to the garden door, dreading lest a careless movement should arouse some member of the household, some minutes passed. She was now calm, but a new doubt assailed her - for she was sure that Mr Darcy was not calling on her at ten minutes to midnight in the guise of a lover. He did not lack passion, of that she had ample proof, nor was he a patient man, but his feelings were at all times governed by reason, and he would not risk bringing ill repute to them both should they be discovered. Why then had he come?
She opened the door, but even before the bitter air reached her she was trembling, and clutching her shawl tightly around her shoulders. As she walked across the frosty grass she could only conclude, with what sparse logic she could muster, that he had a communication to make to her, of an urgent but clearly private nature, and to her tired and bewildered mind, only one idea came.
"Are you there?" she whispered, for he was nowhere to be seen.
"Elizabeth!" said a low voice.
An arm reached out and drew her into the bushes, out of sight, but as she moved forward she caught the scent of alcohol, and startled, pulled herself free. Moonlight fell at last on his face and Elizabeth gasped aloud in horror - for it was not Mr Darcy who stood before her.
It was Mr Wickham.
* A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, Mary Wollstonecraft, published in 1792.
Part 19 ~ The Bachelor Party, Part One
In which -
- The plot thickens...."What plot?!" I hear you cry...
- Something is bugging Mr Hurst.
- Almost everybody gets drunk. Hurrah!
"Elizabeth!" repeated Mr Wickham. "Don't be afraid - it is only I, your brother."
He stepped forward with a smile. "I'm sorry I startled you. I was trying not to make any noise - and then I tripped over something in the dark. I had not intended to wake anyone."
Elizabeth said nothing, but cast her eyes over his dirty, travel-stained clothes.
"You must be surprised to see me - unexpected business brought me here from London. Lydia's last letter would have mentioned my trip to Bath, and then on to London, yes?"
She nodded.
"As I had not had time to inform your father of my impending arrival, I planned to find lodgings in Meryton and to call here tomorrow, but I came off my horse some ten miles off - when it bolted, I was forced to walk the distance across country. By the time I reached the village the inn was closed for the night. My last hope was to come here and find shelter in one of your farm buildings - or perhaps to wake a servant. I apologise for disturbing you."
It was a rather far-fetched tale, but she might have believed him were it not for the fact that he was obviously drunk. His movements were sluggish, his speech uneven and indistinct, and he lacked his normal good-humoured assurance - as might be expected after the misfortunes he had described - but he also seemed ill at ease. Clearly he was in no state to be addressing a lady, even in the hours of daylight.
"Of course, you must come into the house," she said coldly. "I shall wake my father, and we shall see that you are made comfortable."
"No!" he cried, with sudden emotion, and he made to clutch her arm again. "Please! Do not wake your father."
Elizabeth hesitated no longer. She had easily eluded his clumsy attempt to restrain her, and insisting that her father would not hear of him sleeping in a barn and that he must come inside at once, she hurried back to the house.
He followed.
"Elizabeth, wait! I need to speak to you. Alone."
She hurried on.
"Why do you run from me?" his tone was now reproachful. "Will you not trust me, sister? I know that I have done much wrong in my life, but is it be held against me forever?"
Elizabeth had now reached the door, and opening it, she stood in the doorway and turned to face him.
"What is it that you want, Mr Wickham?" she asked with obvious contempt.
"I wish only to be a good husband," he exclaimed, "to look after Lydia, to make her happy! I only ask for a little help - you may easily guess that her spending habits are beyond my power to support!"
Elizabeth laughed scornfully, for she knew now what was coming.
"I suspect that your situation in Newcastle is no longer to your liking, Mr Wickham! No doubt the demands of your commission and the commitments of marriage have proved too much for you, and rather than shoulder the burden of responsibility, you have chosen to flee from it. You apportion some blame to Lydia, but there is little to be gained from that - perhaps there is someone else at whom you would care to point your finger?"
Open sarcasm was something that Wickham had rarely experienced, having till now avoided all those over whom he did not hold the power to charm, but his situation was indeed now desperate and he was forced to continue. His voice was unsteady with anger when he spoke.
"You hold me in such contempt, dear sister! To think that once I delighted you above all others, that you believed whatever off-the-cuff story I chose to tell you without question - how you used to hang on my every word! But you will make Darcy a good wife, for you are as stuck-up and sanctimonious as he! You are right in one particular respect however - I would care to point my finger at another, at he who coerced me into my present sorry predicament, knowing as he did that his paltry offers of financial assistance would prove to be too little!"
"Well if you wish to take issue with Mr Darcy then I suggest that you talk to him!" cried Elizabeth impatiently.
"Not necessary!" he said, with a sardonic smile. "Darcy would do anything for you - or for Georgiana."
Elizabeth inhaled sharply, a new and unpleasant idea forming in her mind. She stepped backwards
"I have kept Georgiana's little secret for so long!" he smiled. "But I confess to feeling a touch of resentment - my efforts have been taken for granted. I would appreciate a small demonstration of gratitude for my discretion."
"Your discretion!" cried Elizabeth, incredulous.
"What harm would it do me Elizabeth, were it to become widely known? My reputation in Hertfordshire - and beyond - is already in tatters! Word of my disgrace has already reached some of my acquaintances in London, thanks to the chain of gossip that extends from this village! Lenders will give me no credit; inns withhold their hospitality - why else do you imagine that I would consider sleeping in a barn! My fortunes in London were not favourable - I have debts to pay."
Elizabeth felt suddenly afraid and unsure of herself. Should she placate him, at least for the moment? She felt that she had no right to make a decision on Mr Darcy's behalf, especially where Georgiana's future was at stake. She could not believe however, that Wickham would wish to publicise the whole affair - for there must be those, certainly in the north, who would still be unaware of his character and willing to support him.
But her hesitation was misinterpreted - he was reckless and impatient, and he mistakenly took her silence as refusal.
"Darcy will hardly be happy to hear of our moonlit encounter - do you also take my discretion for granted?" He stepped forward rapidly, and leaned against the door, preventing Elizabeth from fully closing it. "If Georgiana means nothing to you, perhaps you will act on your own behalf!" He stroked her cheek.
Fury overcame Elizabeth - she released the door suddenly, causing him to stumble, and with all the force she could muster, pushed him backwards off the step. She closed the door and bolted it, and quickly but quietly hurried up the stairs to awaken her father. As she passed a window she looked out and saw him hurrying from the grounds, pausing only to lift a bottle from beneath the hedgerow on his way to the gate. He continued across the fields and vanished into darkness.
The early part of the evening had passed quite uneventfully at Netherfield. Some elderly relatives of Mr Bingley had come for dinner and had regaled them all with many charming anecdotes of Mr Bingley's childhood exploits, to the great amusement of all but the unfortunate host. Some tales were told more than once - and Mr Bingley's discomfort revisited - for his great-aunt was rather forgetful. Aside from this it was observed by all but the guests that Mr and Mrs Hurst were still at odds, for reasons unknown. Not only did the lady persistently speak to her husband without either fair warning or consideration for his feelings, but on two occasions attempted to draw from him an opinion with regard to the current subject of discourse, and to actually expect to be supplied with an answer. Mr Hurst bore this ill treatment with some semblance of composure, but was clearly troubled by it, for he was quite unable to finish his pudding.
The guests stayed for supper and cards, and then took their leave. Barely had they risen from their seats when Mr Hurst excused himself, professing great weariness, and retired to bed. His wife, who had spent the last quarter hour playing vacantly with her jewellery, was so surprised by his sudden departure that she snapped her bracelet open - tiny beads scattered themselves in every direction about the room, and many minutes elapsed before she, her sister, and a sullen footman had retrieved them. She then bade them goodnight and left almost as hastily as her husband had done. Shortly afterwards her sister and Georgiana followed.
The gentlemen lingered a little longer before deciding to do the same, but their progress was halted in the hallway by a sound from the billiard room. Within they discovered a depressed looking Mr Hurst, skulking in the dim light of an almost burnt out candle, a decanter of brandy on the side table, finishing off a solo round of billiards.
Looks were exchanged between the three, but they judged it unwise to seek an explanation. If camaraderie were required it must be supplied at once, but as there were no ladies present, enquiries that might lead to talk of emotional well-being were strictly out of the question. And to be perfectly honest, none of them were particularly fond of Mr Hurst anyway.
"Mr Hurst! Do you mind if I join you?" said Mr Bingley, employing the very same grin that he reserved for Mrs Bennet, Mrs Phillips and Sir William Lucas. It never failed him, and he could do it even when exhausted. "I must say, I am not at all tired and would like nothing more in the world than a good round of billiards!"
Mr Hurst looked like he would prefer to drink himself into a stupor and pass out on the billiard table, but he grunted acquiescence.
"Shall we join them Darcy?" enquired Colonel Fitzwilliam. Darcy made no reply, for an outbreak of yawning had overpowered him, but when he attempted to cover his mouth with his hand, he found that he was holding a billiard cue. "You might stand a half a chance with a competent partner!" added his cousin.
"Right!" frowned Bingley, at whom this taunt had been directed. "Mr Hurst, come along - we'll take them down!"
He called for more light and they began the game, halting only for Mr Hurst, who disappeared at one point without a word and returned several moments later with not one but two additional bottles of brandy
A remarkably short time later, the game was over.
"Excellent!" exclaimed the Colonel - displaying very poor gamesmanship - as Bingley missed a shot, "Victory is ours Darcy!"
"Another game?" suggested Bingley, for reasons that were not entirely charitable. He began to set up the table.
"Why not make it the first pair to win ten rounds?" said Colonel Fitzwilliam. He looked at Mr Hurst. "Or more perhaps?" He topped up the glasses. "This will cure what ails you Mr Hurst!"
"Hrumph," huffed Mr Hurst darkly.
Several games later, the situation was somewhat altered. Mr Hurst had been disgruntled by the rate at which the three Good Samaritans were consuming his brandy, and had taken to furtively topping up his own glass when no one seemed to be looking. His actions, however, had not escaped the attention of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had taken it upon himself, with all the wisdom and assurance of the pleasantly inebriated, to dispense what remained between the other glasses as rapidly and efficiently as possible, thereby protecting Mr Hurst from his own evil propensities.
In this way, the two teams soon drew level. The Colonel instantly vetoed Darcy's suggestion that this might be a judicious time to call it a night.
"Come now Darcy! It may be quite some time before we have another opportunity such as this!" he cried. "Enjoy it! Tomorrow night should perhaps be an early one for you and Bingley - you will need your beauty sleep, and to conserve your strength for...whatever the rest of the day might throw in your path!"
Bingley emptied his glass.
Darcy decided that his cousin was still feeling somewhat abashed in consequence of his - albeit short-lived - fear of Miss Bingley and that he was attempting to prove himself to be a man of mettle by staying up late and drinking too much. In all likelihood he wished to achieve the age-old objective of plying a bridegroom with liquor and luring him into activities of a ribald nature. Hurst and Bingley were oblivious; the former indifferent, and the latter's desire to triumph at billiards fast becoming a personal vendetta against the Colonel. They were therefore at his mercy, so it was up to he, Darcy, to hold them back within the realms of decorum.
But he did not. He was too tired, and he had already partaken of much more than his habitual quantity of spirits that evening. His mind was full of Elizabeth and his time with her earlier that day. If he went to bed, in the repose of darkness and solitude, his thoughts at first would ramble about pleasantly here and there, but somehow, soon enough, always finding that well-trodden path...he was neither troubled nor ashamed by it, but it was clearly no ecclesiastical pilgrimage. To leave his present company and situation would hardly be to redeem himself. Faced with a decision, and bereft of faith in his own judgement, with all his instincts crying out for caution, he responded in the only way he could - namely, striking a happy compromise between being reserved and fastidious whilst also drunk, by sitting down unobtrusively and speaking only when spoken to. If yawning threatened to end his subterfuge, he stifled it. In this fashion he avoided, for the present at least, all the common pitfalls of the drunken state, and succeeded in missing many turns at the table, which no one noticed.
Mr Bingley, on the other hand, was completely absorbed by the game, and although in general play had deteriorated and progress slowed almost to a standstill, it was he who finally ended the match with a succession of shots the like of which he had never performed before. He was drunk, three sheets to the wind - the force within him had been unleashed, and with his intellect brought to this advanced stage of pickling, the curious world of little shiny balls had been rendered down to a charming simplicity. He claimed the final victory from a crestfallen Colonel Fitzwilliam, with a triumph that bordered on the downright obnoxious.
It was only when Darcy observed that he was looking exceedingly ill that Bingley's jubilation was brought to an end. His face blanched.
"D'you know Darcy," he quavered, "now that you come to mention it, I think you might be right." And suddenly finding that his legs were very ill equipped to support his weight, he wobbled off in search of the nearest chamber pot.
"I believe he is casting up his accounts," reported the Colonel, after brief investigation.
Darcy looked disgusted.
"Oh come now Darcy! It's tradition! Every prospective bridegroom should have a good send off - bachelor parties have been customary since the Viking age!"
Darcy was unmoved. Mr Hurst on the other hand, looked hunted, as if expecting a horde of busty young wenches to burst forth from the under stairs closet and overpower him in a flurry of petticoats. He decided to go for a walk outside, and letting himself out by a side door, he left them, muttering something about never coming back again.
It was at this mature stage of their inebriation that a footman entered the room with an urgent letter for Mr Darcy.
"It is from Mr Bennet!" Frowned Darcy. He read it, and then sat down heavily and read it again. "Elizabeth!" he exclaimed.
Part 20 ~ The Bachelor Party, Part Two
In which -
- Wickham comes to Netherfield
- Hurst springs into action
- Underwear is inspected, and many cakes are eaten.
Mr Darcy handed the letter over to Colonel Fitzwilliam:
Mr Darcy,
My sincere apologies for disturbing you at such an hour, but I have grave news to communicate, which, as you will see, cannot be delayed till morning.
Elizabeth was awakened a short time ago by movement in the garden. Believing that it was you whom she saw through the window, and that you must have urgent need to speak to her, she went outside to meet you. And here we come to the crux of the matter, by which I have no doubt you will be as shocked as she; the gentleman who appeared before her was none other than Mr Wickham!
I will not try your patience with all that he had to say; suffice to say that he was drunk, and his intentions were as foul as we have come to expect. Do not fear for Elizabeth; she escaped him unharmed, but threats were made that have led her to fear that he might even now be making his way towards Netherfield on foot to attempt further mischief.
I know not the particulars of his history with you and your family, and you may rest assured that I make no demands to be acquainted with matters that, Lizzy assures me, would, for the happiness of several dear to her, be best left alone. However, she has impressed upon me that Mr Wickham's audacity in his current state should not be underestimated, and that I should advise you, most emphatically, that his heed for his own reputation is much weakened by distaste for his current situation and by desire for material gain; with this in mind, you should take every precaution to ensure your own safety and that of your sister.
Yours,
Edward Bennet.
The two gentlemen hurried upstairs at once. Clutching the banister rather more firmly than usual, they strove to shrug off the seductive haze of alcohol, and to the Colonel, who was rather more affected than his cousin (for he had been rather less restrained in his carousing), there was a sense of progressing down a dark and narrow tunnel with slowly rotating walls, following not one leader but many. Fortunately each Darcy appeared, for the moment at least, to be going in the same direction. However, as disorientating as this might be, he began to prepare himself mentally for conflict. Should he come face to face with Wickham (and he sincerely hoped that he would be so fortunate), he might find himself in the tricky dilemma of having to select the correct face for punching from a choice of many. Should this prove to be the case, the tactically superior method of locating the real Wickham would be to hit out at each and every face until his blow made contact with solid matter. He released his hold on the banister and clenched his fists in preparation - and so, when he found that the top step of the staircase was not exactly where he thought it should be, he fell over with a crash. The multiple Darcys glared at him from amongst a host of twinkling stars, and merging, as gracefully as apparitions from the spirit world, into one looming, forbidding entity, the hand of the collective grasped him impatiently by the arm and hauled him to his feet.
They reached Georgiana's room, and Darcy entered. She was sleeping, undisturbed. He peered out through the window for a moment, and then checked that it was securely fastened, before carefully closing the curtains. Pausing only to look briefly at his young sister, and to pull her bedclothes around her shoulders, he left the room.
His cousin was seated near the door.
"Do you truly believe that he would try to gain entry to the house?"
Darcy shrugged. "I do not know," he sighed, "but it seems that several months of marriage to Lydia have taken effect. Mr Bennet's letter is clear on one issue; we cannot rely any longer on his fear of exposure. He has much to gain, and little to lose. The desire for revenge, to taint my good fortunes, will have spurred him on. Were he only to find his way into Georgiana's room...."
He stopped, and neither spoke for a few moments. Before long Darcy left Colonel Fitzwilliam to keep watch, and went downstairs. He checked on Bingley, who had returned in their absence to the billiard room and had evidently chosen to fall asleep there in an armchair, over searching for his errant companions. Darcy hesitated to wake him, but knew that it should be done. Then he heard footsteps outside.
Letting himself out through a side door and locking it securely, he made his way cautiously around the perimeter of the house. Someone was moving ahead - treading heavily and noisily on the gravel. The figure came into sight, and Mr Darcy released his breath slowly. It was Mr Hurst.
That gentleman, once he had determined that it was not Mrs Hurst who awaited him, as he had at first feared, was clearly quite exasperated to encounter someone during his moonlit stroll. Had he been forced to choose someone for the purpose, he would without hesitation have picked Darcy, for out of his lamentably large circle of acquaintance, Darcy was the one who paid him the least attention, and therefore the one for whom he felt the most affection. In fact, if Darcy were a woman, he would have made some lucky chap an exceedingly good wife. Nevertheless, he felt that a fellow damned well ought to be able to find solitude in the garden at one o'clock in the morning, and so, in bold expression of this belief, he offered only a curt nod by way of acknowledgement and tramped off into the night grumbling loudly. Darcy followed his progress in bemusement. The grumbling faded, but he remained, listening and watching. After a few minutes he heard Mr Hurst's voice again, but from a distance of some hundred yards from the house, this time crying out in belligerent, blustering tones, "What in the name of all that is holy.... you damned filthy lout! What the dickens do you think you're doing? You...why, why you stinking barbarian swine! Upon my word, I'll see you beaten to within an inch of your life!"
Darcy soon reached the scene, and discovered that Mr Hurst's constitutional had once again been interrupted upon his stumbling across Mr Wickham, who had been attempting to relieve himself of urgent business behind a tree. As can easily be imagined, the results of one rather robust gentleman blundering in the dark over another at such a delicate time are unlikely to gladden the hearts of those involved, and would almost certainly be considered wholly catastrophic. Mr Hurst was disgusted. "You impertinent idle-headed scoundrel! Who the devil are you? "
He did not wait for an answer, for he was not of an inquisitive nature, finding that newly acquired information had a tendency to give him peculiar dreams. He could see that Darcy was sporting a look that heralded murderous intentions (an enviable look, of the kind that would fend off one's wife), so he puffed back to the house to dispose of his trousers, leaving Darcy to give the villain a good basting.
At last Darcy faced Wickham, and they were alone.
Wickham was talking, rapidly and incoherently, but his audience was not entertained. Darcy looked around slowly, taking in the surroundings, the trees overhead, large and interlacing, the open farmlands beyond the borders of Netherfield, the house itself, distant, dark, sleeping. He caught snatches of Wickham's babbling, his protestations, reproaches, and accusations, and finally, his insinuations. He spoke Georgiana's name, and Elizabeth's...but it was all as nothing. Darcy felt no anger. He felt little but relief.
"I should have done this a long time ago," he said.
"Done what?" cried Wickham.
"This!" said Darcy.
There was a whirring sound, a jarring impact, and then to Wickham, for an instant, the earth seemed to sway and tilt, before plunging away from him at speed. Something crashed against him from behind, and he knew nothing more.
Mr Hurst, meanwhile, had for once been busy. He had changed into his night attire, and had entered his bedchamber quite unencumbered by further ambition. If lofty deeds of heroism were required, Darcy would perform them quite adequately. He was on the point of clambering into bed, when he discovered that another already occupied his room; with the sight of his wife, asleep in the chair next to his bed, where she had clearly been waiting for him for some time, came a fresh and violent surge of resentment that sent him marching off downstairs on an errand of an angry but auspicious nature. He was as cross as two sticks, and since he dared not challenge his wife, there remained only one satisfactory outlet for his temper.
Entering the kitchen, where a low fire was still burning, he found Mr Bingley's dog Caesar, possibly a Great Dane, certainly the size of a small horse. He roused it from sleep by presenting it with a bowl of some foodstuff or other from the kitchen table, and when it had eaten, he led it out through the kitchen door and guided it forward resolutely until he caught sight of Darcy and the trespasser, who was now lying motionless, flat on his back in the mud.
"Go Caesar!" said Hurst, shoving the beast forward with his foot.
The dog wagged its tail happily, and looked up at him with an amiable expression, which, aside from its dangling tongue, was remarkably similar to its master's.
"Cursed mongrel!" grumbled Hurst, and led it on a bit further. Now within twenty yards of the others, he picked up a stick and hurled it with all his might at the stranger. "Fetch!" he bellowed. "No, Kill!"
Off bounded Caesar, barking with all the booming resonance of a huntsman's horn. He covered the distance in three momentous leaps, planted his great bear-like paws on Wickham's chest, and foraged excitedly for his stick. However, like his master, he was prone to a rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which if not estimable, was, in this case at least, highly interesting. Tearing aside the human's coat and ripping off two of its buttons, he splattered the underlying waistcoat with muddy prints, leaving it in a state that resembled one of Mr Bingley's blotted letters. He soon discovered the stick - he much prized the power of locating a stick with quickness - but once it was in his possession, he paid little attention to the imperfection of his performance; that is, he neglected entirely to return it to he who had thrown it. No sooner was it clamped within his jaws, than he tossed it aside and directed his curiosity with panting enthusiasm to the foreign smells wafting from the clothing of the human beneath him. Perhaps believing that a strange dog had invaded his territory, he began to attack Mr Wickham's wet trousers with a vengeance.
Until this point, Wickham had been drifting in and out of consciousness, perhaps confused between dreamless sleep and existing nightmare, but he was now restored to full comprehension, and thus able to experience his terror without restraint.
His ordeal did not last long - those with a cruel streak might have wished it to last longer - for his trousers, though tailored in the latest fashionable style, were of flimsy fabric and shoddy stitching, and soon surrendered to the dog's teeth. He was forgotten; the dog bounded off, shaking its spoils like a rat between its teeth, leaving him to the triumphant guffaws of Mr Hurst, and, a moment later, a few quiet, carefully chosen words from Mr Darcy. Whatever was said by that gentleman, it may safely be assumed that when Mr Wickham left Netherfield, stripped of his hopes, his dignity and his trousers, it was with the desire of never showing his face there again. Ever.
Entering the house through the kitchen door, Darcy and Hurst passed an awkward few moments together. Having so rarely exchanged words, even on trifling subjects, over the course of their long acquaintance, it was much too late to begin a friendship, yet polite reminiscence over their mutual lapse into violent and bloodthirsty misconduct was rather beyond them. Darcy's only wish was for the entire affair to be forgotten, and was greatly relieved to find that his accomplice's mind was in accordance with his own. Mr Hurst received from him the solemn promise that he would on no account make information public that might be of interest to Mrs Hurst, and cause him to be the butt of her infernal questioning. That settled, they then elected to separate; Hurst went off to bed, so Darcy did not.
And so he found himself all alone in Mr Bingley's kitchen. It had been almost twenty years since he had last set foot in a kitchen, so he decided to enjoy the experience to the full. Tired now, and no longer enjoying the warming effects of brandy, he lit a candle and looked around. Under a cloth he discovered a basket of small freshly baked cakes - undecorated, and clearly destined for the celebratory supper, but whose wedding was it anyway? He helped himself to a few of them and settled himself in a comfortable chair by the fireplace, his chilled feet resting on the warm stones of the hearth. Coffee would have been nice, but was beyond his skill to make.
A few minutes passed, during which he debated with himself just what such a comfortable chair was doing in the kitchen, where Mr Bingley's loyal staff travailed long and untiringly in his service, but he decided at last that he did not care. For while slumped in this chair, in an attitude that was uncharacteristically slovenly, his gaze fell upon a door, slightly ajar, from which a starchy smell was wafting. It was the laundry.
He finished eating his second cake, brushed the crumbs from his shirt, and considered the door gravely. Some modicum of sense still governed his actions, and hinted that although the most immediate danger had been repelled, more insidious perils might be close at hand. An idea had occurred to him that, if sober, would immediately have been dismissed as madness. But he was not sober, and the idea, now that he was cosy and well fed, seemed merely rather amusing. So he carefully weaved his way across the kitchen and propped himself in the doorway, where the contents of the room might be viewed from a safe and, he fondly imagined, dignified distance.
"Good Lord!" he said, and stepped backwards shakily.
The ladies' undergarments currently on exhibition were (to his relief) not those of Mrs Hurst or Miss Bingley, but clearly those of a woman of more imposing stature, and expansive enough to enclose the superior sisters simultaneously. They were heavily reinforced, with many large and robust fastenings of various types and combinations, most likely designed by the inventor of the chastity belt. He prayed that they represented the worst possible case by which he might be confronted, and began to study them carefully.
To someone who did not know him well, his actions at this time might be dismissed as ridiculously out of character, bearing little resemblance to the dignified personage familiar to society at large. Such persons, however, would be wrong. The most important day of his life was approaching, and with it, the most important night of his life. He was a gentleman who liked to be prepared, and to make his preparations thorough and all encompassing. And although the concept of bodice ripping might be well accepted in the romantic novel, he suspected that in practice, it might not be such a simple manoeuvre, and might provoke annoyance in the lady. In short, he required an alternative.
After two or three minutes he decided to go to bed, but as he reached the foot of the staircase, he suddenly remembered Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Bingley was no longer in the billiard room, having apparently given up hope and taken himself off to bed. The Colonel however, was still at his post, sitting bolt upright in an effort to stay alert. He was bitterly disappointed to hear of the dramatic turn of events that had taken place without him, but returned to tolerably good spirits when Darcy gave him his last cake.
After munching together in companionable silence for a moment or two, they brought the impromptu bachelor party to an end, and quietly went to bed.