Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Part Five
Unable to endure more than an hour of her aunt's incessant lectures regarding propriety and familial duties, Georgiana Darcy had found escape in pleading a headache and requiring rest in her own chamber. Once there, she called upon Miss Bingley's maid to find her something suitable to wear so that she may venture downstairs and search out the comfort of her brother's presence. Despite her misgivings where his approval was concerned, she always derived reassurance when she was with him. The last few weeks had not been easy, while Darcy resided in Hertfordshire with his friend and Georgiana brooded about how she had displeased him. The wounds were too fresh for her to consider his forgiveness at all possible. She felt she had betrayed him, the brother who was more like a father, and for that she could not forgive herself.
Upon entering the room she immediately noticed that there were far more people than she had realised. In truth, she hadn't considered the others, focussed only upon rejoining her brother and avoiding their aunt. Georgiana was now faced with a roomful of strangers which was more than enough to stop her in her tracks. While she hovered in the doorway she was nearly bowled over by another young lady making her own entrance.
"Oh, I am sorry," Georgiana quickly, though quietly, began.
The other girl giggled. "I'm the one who should have been watching where I was going. Why are you apologising?" She looked Georgiana over critically. "I don't know you but... didn't you come in with that old lady a little while ago?" Georgiana was too shocked to reply. "Yes, that's where I saw you! Oh, don't worry. I won't tattle on you. She looks a right misery. I hope she's not your mother." She giggled again before sticking out her hand. "I'm Lydia Bennet, by the way."
Georgiana took the offered hand carefully. "Georgiana Darcy. I am pleased to meet you, Miss Bennet."
An unhealthy sound emanated from the other girl which Georgiana belatedly realised was a laugh. "Please! My sister is 'Miss Bennet'. Just call me Lydia. Wait a minute! Did you say Darcy? You aren't a sister to the Mr. Darcy?"
Shaking her head in some confusion, Georgiana confirmed Lydia's conclusion. "Yes, my brother is staying with Mr. Bingley. Am I to understand that you have made his acquaintance?"
"Not exactly," Lydia said with another of those strange laughs. "Practically nobody in Meryton has made his acquaintance although Mr. Bingley has been quite popular." She gave her new friend a wink. "That's my sister, Miss Bennet, sitting with him over there." She pointed across the room.
Georgiana's gaze followed the indicated direction where she was surprised, though relieved, to see her brother seated at the same table. "Your sister is beside Mr. Bingley? Who, may I ask, is the lady beside her?"
"Oh, that's my other sister, Elizabeth." Lydia looked more closely. "Whatever is she doing next to Mr. Darcy?"
That was exactly what Georgiana wanted to know. Fitzwilliam appeared to be genuinely interested in the young lady's conversation. Although Georgiana had rarely seen her brother in company, and only in the comforts of their own homes, he had never appeared interested in any particular lady's conversation. "I wonder what they are talking about?" she mused.
Lydia looked at her new friend with a bemused frown. "I cannot imagine but there is only one way to find out." She reached for Georgiana's hand and began to pull her forward.
"Oh, no!" she whispered sharply, pulling her hand free with not a little struggle. Her eyes were wide. "I couldn't. I mean, we shouldn't."
Shrugging her shoulders, Lydia dismissed the whole idea. "Whatever you wish. At least come and sit with me while we eat. I am so hungry! Look," she said, pointing at a table quite a distance from her elder sisters. "Denny and Saunderson are over there. We can sit with them."
Georgiana allowed herself to be led to the table of young officers. The young Miss Bennet greeted them all enthusiastically and the young men were equally brash, although their exuberance took on a more respectful tone when they beheld Miss Darcy. A few of them exchanged knowing glances upon introduction. The young ladies had arrived just as the soup bowls were being filled. Georgiana, who had been too unnerved to partake of the servings Miss Bingley had arranged to be sent to their rooms, was now grateful to see the hot food. It excused her from having to participate in the conversation at the table without being rude, for one could hardly speak while eating. She was dismayed to see, however, that this rule of etiquette was not strictly adhered to by her dinner companions. The choice of seating herself with her new acquaintance gave Georgiana the advantage of being able to observe her brother without him observing her. That he was unaware of his sister's presence was also a distinct advantage. She did not wish to give him cause for any further embarrassment. The company with whom she now found herself would certainly do that, she knew. However long she could remain undiscovered was to be seen. The young Miss Bennet and her friends were not above calling attention to themselves with their boisterous manners. Georgiana kept one eye on Darcy while attempting to appear interested in the chatter of her immediate party. Interest was not difficult to achieve when her brother became the main topic.
"Did you see the look on old lady Lucas's face when Darcy took to the floor with Miss Elizabeth?" Georgiana nearly dropped her spoon in surprise while the young officer continued. "I can well understand him choosing her over that prim and dull Miss Lucas, however better suited she is to his sour disposition. Ow!"
Denny sent the other man a pointed glare to accompany the kick under the table. "I'd say you're a bit jealous, lad."
"And who wouldn't be, I ask you?" another officer interjected. "Miss Elizabeth is delightful company and I'm sure I'm not the only one put out about him usurping a place on her card."
Lydia laughed, loudly. "I would gladly dance with you if it is such a travesty. As a matter of fact, I'd dance with Mr. Darcy if he'd offer." A giggle accompanied this last comment.
Georgiana did not need any time to think about the probability of that happening. She could well imagine her brother's grimace of distaste at the mere thought. That set her to wondering anew about this Elizabeth Bennet and how she had managed to garner Darcy's attention. How could a sister to the wild Lydia have attracted her own fastidious brother? She could not recall any particular lady inspiring his interest. Her gaze returned to the table across the room. Georgiana's practised eye detected the smile that he rarely allowed to show and that others even more rarely recognised.
"Whatever can they find to be talking about?" Lydia's voice was in her friend's ear. Georgiana quickly looked back to her companion. The other girl had a face that bespoke her confusion.
"Books?" The confusion changed to disgust and Georgiana quickly added, "Or perhaps music! My brother enjoys both. Does your sister like either?"
Lydia appeared to think about that for a moment. "I think she reads. I'm sure I've seen her with a book now and again. I know that Mary does, but she only has eyes for Fordyce's Sermons. I'm sure your brother wouldn't be discussing those!" She gave a snort as she poked an elbow in Georgiana's side.
"No," she admitted somewhat hesitantly. "You are probably right." Recalling the earlier remark about Darcy dancing with Miss Elizabeth, Georgiana made another suggestion. "They may be continuing with a topic begun on the dance floor, though."
Lydia was doubtful. "Such a serious and solemn dance it was, I'm sure no subject could have survived such a dull life. Although... immediately afterward Lizzy was positively surrounded by beaux. I don't know why my sister attracts all of the good young men while the rest of us have to suffer the likes of our cousin, Mr. Collins," she pouted. Georgiana, embarrassed for the young officers who must have felt offended with her slight, looked down at her plate.
"Oh, it's no mystery, Lydia," smiled Denny.
Lydia laughed. "But what would I want with the good young men, anyway?" Several pairs of eyebrows rose simultaneously. Lydia's hand flew to cover her mouth. Her eyes grew wide and then she laughed again. "You are such a bad influence on my poor impressionable mind, Denny." She turned to Georgiana. "I heard my Papa say that to Sir William one evening."
Eyes round with astonishment, Georgiana had no idea how to respond. Had Darcy believed anyone to be an undesirable influence upon her, he would have promptly had that person dismissed and ensured that no repetition of contact occurred. She did not think her brother severe or overprotective, however. Instead, Georgiana was grateful for his steadfast guardianship. Another glance in Darcy's direction confirmed his pleasure with the company he was keeping at present. His sister was now even more determined to discover the true nature of Elizabeth Bennet. If she was remotely like her young sister, Lydia, Georgiana had some grave doubts for her brother's sense. Despite his strong performance before their aunt, she harboured some fears that he had fallen victim to the charms of a pretty face. Was not every man allowed to deviate from the steady path of his life at one time or another? This might simply be a diversion but if Elizabeth was not as sincere in the return of his regard Miss Darcy would do her best to make sure that the detour was temporary. To this end she prepared to uncover more information from a close, and hopefully reliable, source. While contemplating discreet questions, she finished the last of her soup. A lively exchange between Lydia and two of the young men prevented any interruption with probing questions. Georgiana patiently waited until a suitable moment before forging ahead.
"Is your entire family here this evening, Miss ... Lydia?" she faltered, recalling at the last moment the request to call her new friend by her Christian name.
"Yes," Lydia nodded. "Even our cousin, Mr. Collins." Her face registered her feelings about this member of the family party. "Jane is fortunate to have been claimed by Mr. Bingley. Mama made sure to tell him that so I think Lizzy will have to marry Mr. Collins." Georgiana's attention was fully claimed with this disclosure. "I have never been so happy to be the youngest!" Once again she giggled, to Georgiana's growing annoyance.
"Lizzy is the one seated with my brother, you said?"
"Yes, and I can't think why." Lydia leaned forward, arms crossed and resting on the table. It was a most unladylike pose and only served to display her charms for all of the young officers at their table. "Is he always so dull?"
Georgiana was quite taken aback by this question. "Dull?"
"Yes, dull!" Lydia repeated. "Skulking about, not saying a word. I daresay you must be familiar with his behaviour. Does he stare out the windows a lot at home?"
Becoming more confused with the other girl's every sentence, Georgiana attempted to recall from memory if her brother had spent a lot of time peering out of the windows. This activity was not one she could remember, however, but added it to the list of things to question Darcy about. "That is not something I have noticed, no. Is the view here particularly picturesque?"
Unfortunately Lydia did not possess the intellect required to realise a polite response would be the discreet thing to do at this moment. Consequently, a loud snort prefaced her reply. "Not when it's dark."
Low chuckles rumbled from the officers beside them. Denny spoke up. "He seems to have found one view appealing this evening." He tilted his head to direct the others' gazes to where Darcy was still seated with Elizabeth. "She doesn't seem to mind, either."
"Well," huffed Lydia. "I shall not let her get away with such treachery! How could she cast dear Wickham aside just like that?" Georgiana gave a start at the mention of that name. "I'm sure when I tell him what little concern she showed for his absence tonight he will be suitably offended and bestow his attentions upon me, instead." Lydia seemed to think this quite amusing and her laughter began to draw looks from people throughout the room.
Georgiana was anxious lest her brother should also glance over and see the company she was keeping. The mention of Wickham was most unsettling. She now had a clue as to why Darcy may have been spending a great deal of time staring out at the countryside rather than engaging others in conversation. George Wickham had an unnerving habit of materialising when one least expected him. That is what happened at Ramsgate earlier in the summer. Georgiana felt her colour rise at the mere thought of that mortifying episode in her life. For a moment she considered the silly girl beside her and realised that Wickham might very well have set his sights in her direction. If not Lydia then perhaps one of her sisters. That must be why Fitzwilliam is lavishing attention upon Miss Elizabeth! He is trying to protect her and her family from George's clutches! Her heart warmed to think of him in such a noble light. To Georgiana there was now no question of her brother's intentions. She knew him to be the epitome of all that was good and honourable. Feeling much better about the situation she signalled one of the attending servants to bring more soup.
Part Six
Mr. Bingley had been assured that there would be white soup enough to go 'round but it soon became apparent that as much of the dish that was available, it was even more in demand. This was not necessarily noticed by the host of the Netherfield Ball, however. He had greater things on his mind at present. The lovely though quiet lady seated beside him was the happy recipient of his attentions. The bowl before him was full and cooling, completely disregarded in light of more pleasant occupation. The couple on his other side seemed equally oblivious, although their own soup had been appreciatively consumed. Their insides now warmed, it was time to return attention to their previous conversation.
Darcy found it maddeningly difficult to attend to Elizabeth's words. Instead, he remained fixated on the curving arch of her eyebrow, especially fascinating when it was raised impertinently at himself. Elizabeth felt equally lightheaded. She could not seem to prevent her tongue from betraying her amusement with Mr. Darcy's expression. He appeared as dazed as herself although it was hardly to be wondered at with the comments she was helpless to prevent escaping her mouth.
"You seem to be preoccupied, Mr. Darcy. What, may I ask, so holds your interest?"
"Where shall I begin?" Darcy heard himself reply. "To catalogue your charms would be a delightful way to spend the rest of this evening." He felt an irresistible urge to shake himself awake for he was sure this was a dream.... or a nightmare, rather, judging from the boldfaced statements he was making.
"Flattery, sir?" Elizabeth was astonished. How many more surprises were in store for her this evening? Mr. Bingley proposing to Jane, Mr. Darcy complimenting her and more than once, Mr. Wickham's true nature revealed and, most astounding of all, her own opinion reversing with regard to Mr. Darcy! "I had not thought you to be a man who would resort to flattery."
Darcy felt his own eyebrow rise in acknowledgement of the unspoken conclusion of her sentence. "You do not believe the truth heard with your own ears?"
That maddening eyebrow rose with deliberate sauciness. "I do not question the truth but the source, sir. For such a fastidious man as yourself I do not find it easy to reconcile tonight's admiration with the opinion of a similar evening where temptation was more effortlessly avoided."
"I had not the opportunity that evening of beholding the eyes which have held me spellbound ever since." Had he known those words were forming on his lips Darcy would have bitten them to prevent the escape. He could now only wait helplessly, knowing his fate was sealed.
Elizabeth had heard his words yet was unable to effect an appropriate reply. Against her will she was already speaking. "You may have been saved much unnecessary suffering if you had agreed to dance as your friend suggested."
"I dislike dancing, however," Darcy quickly replied. "Nothing short of an intelligent and bewitching partner could induce me to dance." His eyes implored her to not question his sincerity this time.
No argument could she offer in the face of this information. After all, had they not danced together that very evening? For some unexplainable reason Elizabeth found it difficult to accept what she had heard and seen, however. How could this man have come to admire her? "Did you not think to find any intelligent ladies at the Assembly?"
"I believe I have confessed my preoccupation that night and it had nothing to do with the company."
Elizabeth experienced a touch of remorse for pursuing this topic despite her apparent lack of control in the direction. "Indeed you have, sir. Please forgive my impetuous nature."
Darcy could not conceal the upward curve of his mouth. "It is your impetuous nature that so fascinates me."
"Cheek!" A smile of her own emerged, delighting her audience of one. "Is there nothing that motivates you to be spontaneous?"
"Miss Bennet," Darcy gravely replied. "Do you not consider my request for your hand in the dance as a spontaneous action?"
Elizabeth quelled her rapid pulse at the mention of his request for her hand. How silly of me! She was tempted to place a hand to her brow in order to ascertain the presence of a fever. I must truly be ill to think he would make a proposal of marriage after such a brief and awkward acquaintance. "You would have me believe it the work of an impetuous mind when it was more apt to have been the result of careful and precise planning?"
"You do me an injustice, sweet lady. I have not the military mind nor training to formulate such complex manoeuvring in order to secure a simple dance. You credit me with far more cunning than I deserve and I do not mean that in a complimentary fashion. I abhor the employment of such arts and would never debase myself to take advantage of them in order to secure the satisfaction of a few moments in your presence." Darcy's expression softened and his eyes held hers in a warm embrace. Her chest rose and fell with increasing regularity. "Honesty is far preferable to the games often played by lovers." Another wave of horror washed over him at the betrayal of his tongue.
"You imply that lovers are not honest with one another?" Elizabeth studied him from behind her eyelashes. "Is that not a harsh evaluation? Exaggeration of the admiration of each others' attributes I can believe but where there is a true affection can there be anything but honesty?"
"I am amazed!" cried Darcy. "You do not credit the perseverance of the rejected lover to win his heart's reward at any price? To bring himself to his knees in order to gain her acceptance?"
"Acceptance, sir?"she scoffed. "What comfort is acceptance when respect should be his goal?"
Darcy blinked in surprise. Respect? I am at your mercy and you speak to me of respect?! Speak to me of love, instead. "Should he be content with respect, then? Should he not persevere to obtain something more lasting?"
Elizabeth's brow furrowed. "What could be more lasting than respect? What is more valuable?"
"Love, my dear Miss Bennet. Is there anything more valuable than the essence of one's heart?" There was no stopping his mouth now. The words were said, the stakes were laid. "Respect must inevitably follow wherever the heart leads."
"Is that so? I must disagree." Her eyes flashed a challenge.
"I find that surprising." Darcy was genuinely puzzled. "With what, exactly, do you disagree?"
"The heart may be misled, even mistaken in its trust. Respect, therefore, has a weak foundation and is questionable in value, nor is it likely to last."
"Ah," Darcy nodded. "Then it is the emotion that you doubt. Do you not believe in the strength of love, that it can withstand the strongest discouragement and persevere?"
"Such faith, sir! I would not have thought it of you. For myself I can assure you that I have the deepest respect for the emotion of love and those who truly feel its forces." Caught in her own trap, Elizabeth waited with bated breath to hear his pronouncement.
Can it be that she has recognised my feelings even before I was aware of them myself? Darcy silently congratulated himself for falling in love with such an intelligent woman worthy of every kind of respect. He was prepared to offer her whatever her heart might desire of him. Unfortunately his mouth had other ideas. "If it is not love that you doubt then it must be the lover himself. What exceptional standard must he achieve in order to win your approval?"
Elizabeth's eyes widened. "I was under the impression that exceptional standards were your prerequisite, Mr. Darcy." Smiling sweetly she added, "Are there more than half a dozen that have crossed your path?"
A faint smile touched his lips. "On the contrary, Miss Bennet, I have been fortunate to meet but one lady who embodies all of the qualities that I value." His gaze never wavered from her own. Elizabeth felt her heart skip as she saw the warmth of emotion in his eyes. "You have not answered my query, however. What demands do you place upon the man worthy of your regard?"
Rarely was Elizabeth Bennet at a loss for words but this moment was unlike any other she had known. Her head was whirling with unspoken thoughts and feelings, confusion preventing her from forming any coherent reply. After what seemed to be an interminable period of silence she finally heard herself say, "Honour..... sir."
"Honour," Darcy repeated. "Only one demand?"
"Honour brings with it all manner of superior characteristics." Her eyes closed while her voice continued. "An honourable man is trustworthy. He feels just what he ought without any indelicate reference to those feelings. His love is based in truth and tempered with intelligent reasoning."
"All of this in one man?" Darcy could not resist the comparison. "I rather wonder at your knowing any, Miss Bennet."
To his surprise she laughed but only briefly. The twinkle remained in her eyes, however, and he at first did not comprehend her words. "I believe I can assure you that there is one gentleman of my acquaintance who has passed the test."
It was Darcy's turn to feel his heart leap. He had not thought it possible to experience such a reaction to mere words. What a change had been wrought in the course of a few short weeks! Upon first entering Hertfordshire with Bingley he had entertained no illusion of enjoying his stay there beyond the usual level of distraction offered by his friend. It hadn't been long before his interest had been aroused by a particular local lady, much to his own surprise. Confused by his conflicting emotions, Darcy had resisted the attraction, preferring to concentrate on the imperfections of her and her family, little realising that this focus only served to place her in a better light. All of this was irrelevant now, however. His heart was known, not only to himself but also to Elizabeth it seemed! His purpose was now clear.
"What test is that?" enquired a smiling Bingley. Elizabeth visibly jumped at the sound of his voice whereupon Bingley was instantly contrite. "Oh, I am sorry for startling you, Miss Elizabeth. I did not realise that you and Darcy were having one of your serious discussions."
"One of our what ?"
"Don't look so worried, Darcy," his friend quickly reassured him. "As serious as you look, I know that both of you actually enjoy your arguments. Very odd but as long as you leave me out of it then argue to your hearts' content!" Bingley turned his attention to Elizabeth. "It's a rare occasion to see Darcy bested in a debate and you are just the one to do it, Miss Elizabeth. So tell me about this test you mentioned? Have you been quizzing my friend?"
"Quizzing him?" She was still a little muddled from the sudden interruption.
Jane took pity on her sister and gently attempted to direct Bingley's attention from the other couple. He failed to take the hint, however, and continued after a moment's distraction. "Darcy is so close-mouthed most of the time. Do not feel discouraged if he's not forthcoming with answers to your questions."
Elizabeth had put that brief respite to good use and was now able to reply with admirable composure. "I can assure you that Mr. Darcy's modesty does not preclude his ability to parry a verbal riposte."
"Modesty!" Bingley grinned. "Darcy, I have never considered modesty as one of your stronger attributes."
"I'm sure you haven't," the other man responded in a voice that indicated neither approval nor disapproval of this topic. "Please do not feel you are obligated to arbitrate our discussion, Bingley. Neither of us will be offended by your desire to take advantage of this opportunity for private conversation with Miss Bennet, I assure you."
"That is quite decent of you," said Bingley in a lowered voice. "You know I would not hesitate to do the same for you. You need only to ask."
If you would return your attention to your lady I won't have to ask! Darcy was spared the pain of making a redundant reply by the sound of a piercing squeal which traversed the length of the room. Unable at first to comprehend what caused this noise he was stunned to hear Jane Bennet's soft exclamation of dismay while observing Elizabeth stare in alarmed incredulity over his shoulder. If this was not incentive enough to discover the object of their dismay, Elizabeth's next words ensured it.
"How did your sister end up sitting at Lydia's table?"
Part Seven
"Stop! Stop the carriage, I say!"
George Wickham peered out into the darkness. There was no sign of human habitation as far as he could see. He felt the hair stand up on his arms and the back of his neck, an instinctive reaction to a perceived threat. Covertly glancing over at Colonel Fitzwilliam, he relaxed minutely upon seeing nothing to alarm him. However, he remained alert to any possibility, experience having taught him that appearances, particularly where members of the Darcy family were concerned, were inevitably deceiving.
"Is there a problem?" he enquired in a steady voice.
The Colonel appeared not to have heard him. The carriage had barely come to a halt before he absented himself for a hurried consultation with the driver. Wickham studied them, attempting to determine Fitzwilliam's intent. The surrounding countryside offered no form of cover, open fields wet with the recent light snowfall would leave him an easy prey should he try to run.
The clatter of the carriage door drew Wickham's attention with a start. Colonel Fitzwilliam clambered inside, dropping into his seat just as the carriage moved forward once again. This time, though, it did not continue along the road. The driver brought the horses around and slowly reversed the vehicle's position to face the direction from which they had just come. Fitzwilliam was smiling, though more to himself it seemed, giving him the appearance of a moonstruck calf. It would have been laughable had Wickham not been preoccupied with the preservation of his own hide.
"Have we taken a wrong turn?" he eventually asked.
Fitzwilliam's eyes focussed on the other passenger. "No. No wrong turn."
Wickham frowned. These unenlightening answers were hardly reassuring but the thought crossed his paranoid mind that it may be intentional. "We are not going to Matlock after all? You've changed your mind?"
"We're returning to Netherfield." There was something left unspoken at the end of this sentence, as if the word Netherfield was not what he'd meant to say. "It was foolish to set off at this hour of the night. We can make better time if we leave in the morning."
Shaking his head, Wickham refrained from pointing out that they had already travelled a considerable distance in the dark and would be covering that same distance to return from where they started. He was certain that Darcy would vehemently oppose his cousin's decision but the matter was out of his hands. As long as they continued to conceal him from the Bow Street runners and he stayed warm, dry and fed, George Wickham would be satisfied to settle in wherever they chose. There was just the small issue of Lady Catherine de Bourgh's presence at Netherfield, if he correctly recalled the conversation between the two men in the study.
The carriage rolled on through the darkness for some time while its passengers said nothing. Wickham entertained thoughts of roast lamb and pheasant for his suppers instead of the more frugal army fare. Fitzwilliam's mind was not cluttered by any images of food. His was more agreeably occupied with remembering the delicate fingers which had directed the provision of the soup he'd had prior to their departure. It had been the memory of those hands and the heavenly voice that accompanied them that had tormented him during the ride. How could you leave? whispered in his head. Go back..... Unable to withstand it any longer he at last called the driver to halt and was able to sit back, content in the knowledge that it would not be long 'ere he would see her again. What the lady may think of his return he could not hazard a guess. He did not foresee any great obstacle, however, for he was Richard Fitzwilliam, son of an Earl, Colonel in his Majesty's Royal Army and no woman could possibly present him with any campaign greater than he had encountered on the Continent in the course of his duties. Assured that success was guaranteed, he had no thoughts to spare in speculating on his cousin's probable reaction to their sudden reappearance. It was unimportant in the Colonel's eyes. There was a greater objective at stake.
Wickham, having imagined every one of his favourite dishes served to him in opulent fashion, was eventually forced to consider the very real possibility that Darcy may choose instead to lock him in the cellar. This was a far less appealing scenario and one which Wickham could not completely discard as unlikely to occur. Darcy's opinion had been made perfectly clear; he had no time nor patience for George Wickham. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that this was a very bad decision on Fitzwilliam's part. Darcy was not going to be happy and it would not be his cousin paying the greater price for this foolishness. Briefly, he wondered about the real reason for turning back. The Colonel did not appear to be a man afraid to travel by night and, truth be told, he should be more afraid of Darcy than any chance meeting with brigands. Each turn of the wheels brought them closer to Netherfield and with it Wickham's apprehension grew. His recollection of the events at Ramsgate took on a surreal quality. His life had been set, the path laid before him like an aisle in a church.
No. Bad analogy.
He could see the comforts that were ahead; a life filled with every delight a man could wish, or that money could buy. George Wickham could be quite happy with what money would provide. That a wife must necessarily accompany this fortune was a sad fact to be faced. There were far worse options than Georgiana Darcy, however. She at least would be quiet enough that he would be able to pursue his own interests and amusements without fear of feminine wrath.
It would have been perfect. The plan had been set in motion, the young Miss Darcy prepared to step out from under the protection of her brother's wing. Then Darcy had arrived. How could the fates have been so cruel? It had been so close, Wickham's security had been within his grasp, when it had been instantly and unceremoniously snatched away. Darcy had been barely able to contain his anger, Wickham remembered. Never had he seen his old friend so outraged. There was no question of his being sent away, far away from Georgiana. At the time he agreed, knowing that the more distance between himself and Darcy the longer he could safely survive. The decision did not sit well with him, however. Before many days had passed Wickham was regretting his retreat and cursing Darcy's high-handed interference.
Yet, here he was again, at the mercy of Darcy's whims. It was all well and good to propose hiding at Matlock, away from the Bow Street boys, but there was no assurance that Darcy would not turn him over to another authority to be left rotting in prison. Or, he shuddered, Australia.
Torn between fear and anger, Wickham's resentment grew until he realised the carriage had drawn up in the stable yard of Netherfield. This was truly representative of his life: to be relegated to the servants' entrance, cast off as unworthy despite his education and years of dedicated service in the Darcy household.
Colonel Fitzwilliam leapt eagerly from the carriage, impatiently signalling the other man to follow. The Lieutenant had little choice but to obey. At least Darcy's immediate wrath would be directed toward his cousin, perhaps providing him an opportunity to importune himself upon the evening's guests.
Yes, the situation was looking less bleak by the minute.
The two men entered the house through a side door. Fitzwilliam would never have entertained the notion of going through the kitchen. He might be unexpected, even unwelcome to some, but he was the son of an earl.
No servant came to meet them but the sounds of music floated down the hallway from the ballroom not far away. The Colonel hesitated. It was unquestionably bad form to appear in the ballroom in such a state in addition to being uninvited. This presented a dilemma, however. How was he to inform his hostess of his return?
Footsteps sounded on the tiled floor approaching from the opposite direction from which the music emanated. Fitzwilliam's hesitation was thrust aside as quickly as he grabbed Wickham by the arm and shoved him inside the nearest room, warning him not to make a sound nor attempt to leave. For his own part Wickham was inclined to hope for Darcy's appearance. It would be a treat to see the Colonel get an earful of Darcy's ire as well as a distraction so that he might manage a discreet exit. The door shut in his face, however, and he was left to contemplate the wooden surface as Fitzwilliam tried to assume a casual demeanour while inspecting his fingernails outside the closed door to the water closet.
A mere exhalation or two later the footsteps were revealed to belong to a pair of servants in an obvious hurry and appearing quite flustered. Their composure was further threatened with beholding the Colonel loitering in the hall. Before they could attempt an apology the air was disturbed with the sound of more footsteps and the two servants' complexions took on a sallow hue. In another moment Lady Catherine de Bourgh sailed around the corner and came to an imperious halt, her eyes narrowing considerably as her gaze travelled down the length of her great nose.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
The poor servants, quivering in fear, mistook her meaning. "Begging your pardon, m'lady -."
"Silence!" Lady Catherine glared at them and once again addressed her nephew. "Fitzwilliam, I asked you a question. Don't stand there like a fish gasping for air. There is something strange going on here and I demand to know what it is!"
"I am sure I don't know what you mean," the Colonel managed to reply with relative nonchalance. "What do you think is going on?"
His aunt was not distracted from her purpose. "That is what you will tell me after informing me of the reason for your presence here!"
"I should think that is obvious."
"Do not take me for an imbecile," she snapped. "It is not obvious or I would not ask."
Fitzwilliam sighed. "I meant no disrespect, of course. I was referring to the ball being held in the house this evening."
"Oh, that ," Lady Catherine sniffed. "I cannot imagine what would possess you to attend such a ramshackle affair."
"I invited him."
It was unclear just who was more surprised by this statement, Colonel Fitzwilliam or the young lady who had made it. She stood there wondering how she'd had the nerve to speak while he smiled broadly, his aunt completely forgotten the instant he'd heard that voice. That voice! Fitzwilliam thought he'd never heard anything more beautiful nor more welcome.
"He has come at my invitation," Miss Bingley said more firmly as if there had not been any doubt at all. She turned her attention to the gentleman. "I am so sorry I was not able to greet you personally, Colonel. I am very pleased that you were able to join us, though. I was afraid that your other obligations would keep you away."
"Some obligations are less pressing than they first seem." The Colonel took her hand and politely raised it to his lips in greeting. He may have lingered a second or two longer than strict propriety allowed but the lady did not object. "When it became apparent that my task could wait until morning I made my way to Netherfield forthwith."
"This is all quite vexing!" an exasperated Lady Catherine interrupted. "First Darcy abandons me to the mercies of a country household. Then Georgiana disappears from her room and finally I find you, the nephew in whom I had the greatest confidence in behaving rationally, wandering the back hallways of the very country house that -."
"What is this about Georgiana?" Fitzwilliam's attention was torn but his duty to his cousin won out. "What has happened?" He prayed that Wickham's ears were not so good that he could hear what was being said on the other side of the door.
"I warned Darcy about precisely this sort of behaviour occurring but he shrugged it aside," she replied with a disdainful sniff. "He has been far too lenient with that girl and I mean to put a stop to it. Tonight. You can assist me, Fitzwilliam. As one of Georgiana's guardians you will permit me to take her to Rosings and see that she is properly educated and supervised. No more of this nonsense in London and excursions to the seaside. This only leads to trouble and is of no benefit whatsoever. A girl of her age should remain at home until it is time to bring her out, to present her at court as befits her station."
Colonel Fitzwilliam was well aware of what his cousin, both of his cousins, would say to that suggestion. He was not about to point out what should be obvious to his highly opinionated aunt, however. She had still not given him any indication as to where she thought Georgiana had gone. This point needed addressing immediately. "All of that may be discussed later. The important thing to do now is to find Georgiana if she is truly missing. Where have you looked?"
"Oh, she hasn't gone far," Lady Catherine said with a wave of her hand. "It is this disrespectful behaviour in evidence as I told her brother. She'll be in the ballroom, I'm sure. Left me with some pretense of fatigue and then deviously changed her gown and slipped downstairs." She glanced at Miss Bingley, disapproval written on her face. "You must know something of this."
"I did not see Miss Darcy among my guests," Caroline stiffly replied.
"Of course not," interjected Fitzwilliam. "After all, there are so many people present that you would not notice one more face. Do not be alarmed, Aunt Catherine. I shall accompany Miss Bingley back to her guests and find Georgiana myself." He made as if to take the young lady's elbow to direct her.
"Just one moment," came the stern command from his aunt. The Colonel slowly turned to face her. "I will brook no opposition. You will find Georgiana and bring her upstairs to my room so that I may refresh her memory on the proper conduct expected of her. There will be no more of this insolent behaviour."
"Lady Catherine," Miss Bingley began, hesitating only slightly when the great lady turned her penetrating gaze on her. "If I may make a suggestion?" A very slight inclination of Lady Catherine's head bestowed permission upon Caroline to continue. "Miss Darcy may be with her brother as we speak. This could provide some difficulty in persuading him to relinquish her into your cont- care while she is safely in his."
"It is precisely her safety which concerns me. However," she conceded, "Fitzwilliam may have more success in winning Darcy's consent. He is unbelievably stubborn on this matter with me."
"Darcy is stubborn about a lot of things," the Colonel grumbled. "I make no promises but I shall locate Georgiana and deal with her brother as the situation dictates. There is no need to trouble yourself to make an appearance."
Lady Catherine visibly softened. "I knew I could rely on you, Fitzwilliam. There is always tomorrow if you cannot persuade Darcy this evening." Turning back to Miss Bingley, she said, "Please arrange for more soup to be brought to my room. It seems to have agreed very much with Anne. Her stomach is quite delicate, you know, and anything that settles well with her is very welcome."
"Certainly," Miss Bingley replied, nodding to the servants who still stood nearby. The maid needed no urging and quickly fled the hallway to retreat to the sanctuary of the kitchen.
Lady Catherine, satisfied with the arrangements, now shooed them away toward the ballroom and summarily dismissed the remaining servant. She could not abide wasting time nor did she feel the need to have someone watch over her every movement. Before returning to her room, however, she stood lost in thought for a few moments. Coming to some sort of decision, she was about to head for the main stairs when something caught her eye. It was a perfectly natural reaction and a perfectly normal choice under the circumstances. It would be a rather long walk back to the East Wing where her rooms were located.
Lady Catherine pushed open the door to the privy room, crossing the threshold and closing the door behind her.
Part Eight
"Georgiana!" Darcy looked down disapprovingly at his sister. Were it not for the fact that he knew incontrovertibly that Georgiana did not imbibe even the weakest of wine he would have been certain that she was foxed. He had never seen her so animated! To witness her thus in such a large gathering of strangers was nothing short of incredible. Darcy had the utmost respect for Elizabeth and Jane Bennet but he simply would not tolerate his sister keeping company with the likes of Miss Lydia! "Explain yourself."
Georgiana unsuccessfully stifled a giggle resulting in it sounding more like a sneeze. Lydia erupted into laughter while Darcy's frown deepened. "You look so stern, Fitzwilliam. Really, you've no cause for concern."
"Your behaviour indicates otherwise," he replied, the tone a warning in itself. Georgiana should have recognised it and perhaps she did. It did not seem to make any difference to her, however. "I believed you to be comfortably settled in your room and instead I find you in very questionable circumstances without so much as a word to me requesting permission to attend."
"I did seek you out," Georgiana said with wide eyes but a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. "You appeared to be too engrossed in a discourse with this lady." She indicated Elizabeth who stood just behind Darcy's left shoulder. "I was reluctant to interrupt when you were obviously enjoying each other's company."
Elizabeth's lips set in a firm line as she recognised the sly comment as something Lydia or Kitty would say. Darcy was clearly shocked by both his young sister's remark and the implication that his attraction for Elizabeth had been so vividly displayed in a public setting. Seeing he was at a loss for words, she took charge. "You are more than welcome to join us, Miss Darcy. In fact, I would like the opportunity to properly make your acquaintance." The emphasis she put on that word jarred Darcy to attention.
"Please forgive my lapse in manners. Miss Bennet, my sister Georgiana. Georgiana, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet." He fixed the former with an icy eye. "Miss Bennet is perfectly correct in saying that you are welcome to join us at our table, Georgiana." Darcy extended a hand to assist her in standing. "Please do."
The meaning could not be ignored this time. Georgiana smiled at her new friends as she left her seat and walked to her brother's table, one arm linked through his. Elizabeth followed, keeping a discreet distance to allow Darcy's low voiced comments to his sister to remain private. Lydia was now free to giggle as she chose.
"You realise that you have just substantiated aunt Catherine's concerns," Darcy scolded Georgiana. "How can I honestly say that your behaviour is beyond reproach after this?"
"Have I done something so terrible? I only wanted to find you. Aunt Catherine was so severe with Ann and myself." She peered up at him shyly.
"You are not a little girl anymore, Georgiana." Astonishment warred with a sense of melancholy as Darcy wondered where his young sister had suddenly acquired this repertoire of arts she was employing upon him. "After the years invested in the finest education I am amazed that you seem unaware of the import of your actions."
"But you would not let her take me to Rosings."
"You assign more authority to me than I possess. Please bear in mind that I am but one of your legal guardians." He pulled a chair out for her to sit. "Should our cousin share Lady Catherine's view I would be a fool to argue otherwise, especially with the proof of tonight's actions before me." Darcy let her think about his words as he turned his attention to Elizabeth's comfort. "How can I thank you, Miss Bennet? I fear I am at a loss when it comes to countering the peevish moods of a young woman such as Georgiana."
Slightly amused by his confession, Elizabeth smiled. "I have three younger sisters of my own, Mr. Darcy. This is something I practice daily. There is no need to feel that your own skill is lacking." She studied the young woman seated beside her. "Miss Darcy, am I right in thinking that the allure of the music and dancing was too much that it drew you here despite your better judgement?"
"I would not be entirely truthful if I said yes, Miss Bennet," Georgiana replied, attempting to avoid her brother's watchful gaze. "I was also somewhat perturbed by the sudden and unexpected journey that we took here. I was hoping to receive some consolation in my brother's understanding and, having Miss Bingley's maid at my disposal, I directed her to find me something suitable to wear that I may look for him amongst the crowd without disgracing him."
"I find it difficult to believe that you could disgrace him. I must caution you, however." Elizabeth's sidelong look at Darcy caused him to discreetly turn away. "My youngest sister is not the best example from which you could learn. It saddens me to say this but she has been indulged a bit too much and does not always know when she has gone too far."
"Oh."
There was genuine disappointment in the girl's voice. Elizabeth was struck with the thought that Miss Darcy had probably not much opportunity to meet girls her own age. Her brother seemed quite protective and in light of the incident with Mr. Wickham it was perfectly understandable for him to keep her closely guarded. Once more Elizabeth recalled Lady Catherine's words in the library and wondered what sort of relationship Miss Darcy would have with Miss de Bourgh as a sister. "I suppose that because you have no sisters it would be somewhat lonely for you when your brother is away. Of course, you would have friends to visit and your cousins. Do you have any cousins close to your age?"
Georgiana shook her head. "My cousin Anne is nearest my age. Aunt Catherine seems to think that my brother is going to marry Anne. That is why she is always wanting me to come and live at Rosings, I think. It would mean Fitzwilliam would be there more often."
"I see."
The younger woman was pleased to think that she could detect a hint of curiosity in Elizabeth's expression while remaining too polite to enquire further. "Not that it would make a difference. My brother doesn't want to marry Anne."
"You shouldn't presume to speak for him," Elizabeth gently reminded her.
"Of course, but...." Biting her lip, Georgiana lowered her voice. "I wouldn't want you to think it hopeless to win him. His heart is not promised to anyone else."
If Elizabeth had any lingering doubts about Darcy's feelings for herself they were melted away in the recollection of their quiet moments together in the library. Georgiana's words could not have been better phrased to remind her of the intimacy of his expressions.... and the pleasure in his touch. Elizabeth felt the colour rise in her cheeks and could not help stealing a glance at the man himself. He was not aware of her brief admiration of his features although his sister did not miss the significance. Elizabeth quickly brought her attention back to Georgiana. "There you are presuming to know my mind as well as your brother's. Do not be alarmed. I am not offended. I am flattered by your consideration for my feelings but are you sure your brother would look as kindly upon your encouragement of me?"
"But I thought...." Georgiana's words trailed off as her eyes flitted back and forth between Elizabeth and her brother. "I'm sorry, I just assumed that Fitzwilliam's feelings were known to you. The way he looked at you while you were conversing earlier I was sure he had.... I mean, I've never seen him so openly interested in a lady so I knew he must be very much affected."
Elizabeth didn't know how to reply to this candid observation. Georgiana couldn't have been more right if she had stood beside them in the library an hour earlier. Although Elizabeth had questioned Darcy's words and motivation at the time, she had since come to the conclusion that all he had said was not meant to deceive her. On the contrary, she believed in his honesty and her own heart was deeply touched by the strength of his feelings. There was something about the man that defied explanation. How he could be so tight-lipped one minute and warmly speaking of love the next was as intriguing as it was baffling and Elizabeth found her own response to his tender words willfully contradicting her previously held beliefs about his character. Strangely, this did not trouble her at all. She was more than happy to cast aside the prejudiced opinions nurtured in her breast since the Assembly and embrace the far more pleasant feelings invoked by the declarations of a man such as Mr. Darcy. This change of heart did not, however, permit Elizabeth to freely indulge in revealing her vulnerability to Miss Darcy. There was more to consider than irresistible attraction. Only fools pursued a blind course such as that.
Elizabeth's silence was so prolonged that Georgiana reconsidered her words. Perhaps she had spoken out of turn? It was time to bring her brother back into the conversation. "Fitzwilliam?" He turned to face her, a faint apprehension detectable to both ladies. "I am sorry that my behaviour displeased you. I truly did not mean for it to happen."
Darcy nodded, relieved and grateful for Elizabeth's intervention. "This has been a trying day for you, Georgiana. I realise that our aunt has subjected you to demands that have left you feeling quite distressed. They have surely tried my patience! I hope you understand exactly why I reprimanded you. You were behaving in an unbelievably rude manner."
Georgiana's chin raised imperceptibly. Elizabeth recognised the sign of defiance but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. What a varied mix of emotions was this girl! Darcy certainly had his hands full but Elizabeth was sure he was perfectly capable of managing his sister without the dubious assistance of their aunt. The formidable Lady Catherine would strike terror into even the most rebellious of young ladies. Well, perhaps not Elizabeth Bennet. That young woman was beginning to mentally prepare herself for the resistance she suspected would arise from that quarter should Darcy decide to make his feelings public. It may not even come to that if Georgiana's perception of his attachment was indicative of how easily it may be detected. The shrewd old bat may see it for herself.
"I believe that my own sister deserves some of the blame for that," Elizabeth politely offered. "She is hardly well behaved at the best of times. It is a shame that Miss Darcy did not join us right away but it cannot be helped now." She leaned closer to Darcy to add in a quieter voice, "Please tell me to mind my own business if you think I am being impertinent but I believe your sister is truly repentant for her transgression. It is a very trying age, believe me."
"If I thought you impertinent, Miss Bennet, I would never put an end to it." A gleam twinkled in his eye although his expression remained serious. "A lively mind is quite attractive." Before she could reply Darcy shifted his gaze to Georgiana and brought her into their discussion. "My sister is as fond of lively discussions as much as you appear to be, Miss Bennet. Unfortunately I seem to be a trifle intimidating to her and this inhibits her performance. Perhaps you might have better success?"
A smile lit up Georgiana's face. "I would very much enjoy the opportunity for discussions with you, Miss Bennet. Fitzwilliam is correct. I find his talents in debate far surpass my own but he also has such a broader range of interesting topics from which he can choose and I cannot match." The shy expression returned. "Will you return to visit with me while I remain at Netherfield? I truly would like to get to know you better."
"I would be honoured to further our acquaintance," Elizabeth sincerely replied. She also reflected that her own sister was likely to be an oft invited guest and it would be necessary for her to accompany Jane on these excursions. Everything appeared to be falling into place quite tidily. "You are more than welcome at Longbourn, as well. Are you fond of walking? There are many paths hereabouts that I would be happy to show you. I always enjoy a good walk and the fresh air stimulates the mind. Many a good discussion may be had on the paths around Meryton."
Georgiana looked to her brother for confirmation before replying. He nodded quickly in affirmation of the scheme. "It is settled, then. We shall be inseparable companions wherever we appear."
Darcy's sense of satisfaction was not to be outdone. He was already planning for that first appearance and would be quite pleased to simply follow behind the ladies, listening to their discussions in contented silence. "Is that your way of asking my permission to stay?"
A smile as mischievous as his own thoughts appeared on Georgiana's face. "I thought it suited your intentions, dear brother. If I would be in the way, though....." She giggled as his face slowly changed colour and quietly whispered, "Well, it suits my own purposes to help you along, Fitzwilliam. I'd never get a sister, otherwise."
Elizabeth wisely kept her own counsel.
Part 9
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam quite happily trailed along just behind Miss Bingley through the hallways of Netherfield. Every step which brought him closer to the ballroom put him that much more distant from his aunt, a state not to be undervalued. The urgency of his current mission remained although the edge was somewhat dulled. Nevertheless, his mind was sufficiently occupied that Miss Bingley grabbing his arm and pulling him through a doorway to their left was a shock, to say the least. He stared at her in bewilderment.
"Is this the way to the ballroom?"
She did not answer but merely glanced at him while continuing to lead him down this new corridor. "Of course not," she finally said, her voice breathy from either the exertion of the pace or from excitement.
"But we should be looking for Georgiana," Fitzwilliam weakly protested, slowing his own pace and resisting her pull just a little.
Miss Bingley looked back at him. "Georgiana is in no danger. Trust me. I met her on my way out of the ballroom. She was looking for her brother and I informed her of where to find him."
"You are certain she intended to join him?"
Miss Bingley fixed him with a puzzled gaze. "Is there some reason you would expect otherwise?"
"Er... no. I just need to be sure since my aunt expects me to locate her." What he could not admit aloud was how much more grief to which he would be subject should Georgiana not be safely under Darcy's wing once Darcy discovered that Wickham was once again underfoot.
"Colonel, there is something I must ask you." Miss Bingley's tone was earnestly sincere. Fitzwilliam's eyebrows rose in query; he could form no words. "What prompted your return? Surely you must have been halfway to London before you turned back."
"London," he repeatedly mindlessly before giving himself a mental shake. "No, not quite. I realised that our progress was too slow in the dark and it would be best to attempt it in daylight, instead."
"I see," she said, obviously not seeing at all. Her eyes were focussed entirely upon his. "A wise decision."
"Not really. Darcy won't be pleased with the delay but some things are more important than Darcy's convenience." The Colonel drew a breath and studied the line of the curls in Miss Bingley's hair. "That exquisite colour for instance."
The lady self consciously raised a hand to touch her hair, ensuring that the mass was securely in place. "I beg your pardon, sir? I do not understand your remark. What has this to do with your change of plans?"
"I....um..." The Colonel paused. He didn't know the answer to that question, either. Or rather, he did know but he thought he wasn't quite prepared to voice it yet. He wondered if a man was ever prepared speak of his feelings aloud. Miss Bingley was looking at him, patiently waiting for him to continue. Fitzwilliam felt the pressure to say what needed to be said; to tell her the truth. And why shouldn't he? After all, he'd thought of little else, almost nothing else, since making her acquaintance that evening. "Miss Bingley?"
"No, you are not."
He gave a start. "I beg your pardon?"
With a slight frown and a sigh she said, "I am Miss Bingley."
"Yes, I know that." A frown was forming on the Colonel's brow as well. "What am I not?"
"I beg your pardon?" She took a step away from him.
"You said I am not. What did you mean?"
"You," she said slowly, enunciating each syllable, "said that you were me. I said that you are not."
He shook his head, frowning more deeply. "I said what?" Fitzwilliam did not want to believe that Miss Bingley may be a bit ..... deranged. The fact remained, however, that she was still unmarried and nearing the age where her shelf life on the marriage market would come to an end. That thought did little to comfort him, either.
"Do you deny saying it?" Miss Bingley wondered if Darcy's cousin was entirely normal. That would be such a shame for he seemed to be quite a nice gentleman when she'd met him in the halls earlier that evening.
"Of course I deny it. Why would I claim to be you?" He spread his arms out to emphasise his next point. "Does this look like a ball gown?" The unfortunate side effect of his words was that his own attention was drawn to admiring Miss Bingley's ball gown and with it, her figure.
A side effect of his gesture was that the lady was able to better admire his figure in his uniform. "Hardly," she managed to say without sighing. "Although I will admit that you look rather fetching in it." She tittered.
A foolish grin spread across his face. "And you are very handsome, if I may say so." Fitzwilliam attempted to curtsey but ended up with his boot heel caught on the tails of his coat. As he tried to straighten his leg, the coattail was pulled downward and his shoulders pulled back so that he lost his balance and tumbled unceremoniously onto his posterior region.
"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, one hand straying to her mouth to cover her laughter. It would be most unladylike to derive amusement from the undignified predicament of her guest. Fortunately, not only was the Colonel not offended but he was also laughing, having a potent sense of humour of his own. "You are not hurt, are you?" An odd question considering the mirth he was expressing.
"Only my pride, dear Miss Bingley," Fitzwilliam replied, getting to his feet and brushing imaginary dust from his clothes. "What sort of fool have I appeared to you? Surely you must think me completely inept."
"Not completely, no," she quietly said between stifled giggles.
"Oh, now I am mortified! You do think me inept!" Raising a hand to his brow in a melodramatic gesture, he rolled his eyes and sighed. "How can I face another day after such humiliating exposure?"
"Oh, shut up and kiss me"
Fitzwilliam froze and his eyes opened wide. "I beg your pardon?"
"I believe you heard me." Miss Bingley's hand trembled with the shock of her own recklessness.
The Colonel had always been taught to never argue with a lady. This situation put him in something of a dilemma, however. She evidently wanted him to kiss her. He was in no doubt of his own willingness to do just that. However, what if she changed her mind? What if, at the most crucial second, she decided that a kiss was not desirable but it was too late to stop his lips from meeting hers? There was a very real risk here that Fitzwilliam was loath to take. There was too much to lose!
Miss Bingley was watching the gentleman as he stood motionless for several seconds. Was he going to kiss her? Why did he not do something? Was she that repulsive? She had never thought of herself as unattractive but a niggling doubt was now making itself known. There had not been a man whose opinion she had valued, apart from Darcy, until this evening. How strange that this Colonel, this cousin of her brother's friend, should inspire such thoughts and feelings in her where none had previously existed. These sensations were quite strong, too; stronger than anything she could recall experiencing. Whatever had prompted her to demand, yes demand, a kiss from a man whose acquaintance was fleeting at best was a mystery. Yet, despite the fact that she should feel ashamed by the expression of her bold words, Caroline Bingley was neither ashamed nor repentant. She was, however, growing impatient with his continued silence. Just as her patience neared its limit his lips moved.
"Yes, I heard you." He took a step closer. "There are but the two of us here."
She nodded, more puzzled by his remark than intending to imply agreement to anything unspoken. "Of course. Did you think I would speak thus with an audience?"
"My apologies. I meant that should you wish to retract your words, I would not resent you for it. There are no witnesses here besides ourselves. Your honour is safe with me."
His eyes expressed the sincerity she longed to see. Miss Bingley moved closer to him. "Nothing could make me retract my words." Her voice was breathy in a way that was foreign to her ears. The effect on the Colonel was immediate. He closed the distance between them, cupping her chin in one hand and lowering his face towards hers.
No interruption is ever pleasant and at this precise instant it was even less welcome. The intimacy of the moment was shattered by the sound of heavy breathing and a rush of cold air; the window behind Colonel Fitzwilliam had obviously, and noisily, opened. The drapery billowed outward, slapping him smartly on the ankles with the weighted hem and what was evidently the form of a determined man was wildly batting at the length of material in an attempt to escape its confines. It was fortunate that imprisonment in the folds allowed the necessary moments for Miss Bingley to regain her deportment, tidying her hair and smoothing her skirt. The Colonel interposed himself between the lady and their unknown assailant. It was certain that no reputable guest would gain entry to the house through a closed and covered window! Alas, he had not worn his sabre, leaving it with his man and the carriage. This was no deterrent to his willingness to protect Miss Bingley, however. Fitzwilliam drew himself up straight and tall, thrust out his chin and waited.
"Who is it?" Caroline whispered over his shoulder.
"We are about to find out," he replied, also in a whisper, extending an arm to grasp the curtain firmly and fling it to one side. The wide eyed figure this action revealed was no more nor less surprised than the couple now staring at him. The Colonel, accustomed to taking control of the unexpected, cleared his throat and spoke in an authoritative voice. "Explain yourself."
"Sir," croaked the startled man as he snapped to attention.
Fitzwilliam slowly paced a circle around him, regarding him warily. "I left you with explicit orders not to leave that room. Is this the way you were trained to obey your superiors?" This angle of interrogation had been unanticipated, judging from the lack of response it garnered. "Lieutenant?" he said very slowly and evenly, fixing the junior officer with a steady gaze. Wickham's eyes darted from the Colonel to Miss Bingley and back again. He was apparently reluctant to speak in front of the lady. Fitzwilliam's curiosity was piqued as well as his devilish streak. He placed himself directly in front of Wickham, impeding his view of Miss Bingley.
"The room became occupied by another, sir," the lieutenant stiffly replied.
"Occupied by another?" The Colonel's brow furrowed. "How exactly did this present a problem?"
"Water closets are not very.... er... commodious, sir." Wickham was looking decidedly uncomfortable discussing this.
Fitzwilliam grinned inwardly. He'd had no idea that he'd shoved the other man into such a room. What exquisite punishment! "Yes, yes of course. Why did you not lock the door? That would have kept others out. You are a soldier, man! You are trained to think on your feet."
Unwilling to admit to a lapse on his part, nor to having had his ear to the door to hear what was going on outside of it, Wickham attempted to change the direction of the Colonel's thoughts. "Lighting in these rooms leaves something to be desired, as well. Too bright in some respects and too dark in others."
Curiosity got the better of Fitzwilliam. "What do you mean?"
"It was dark enough that my uniform was mistaken for servant's livery." Distaste crept into his voice.
"And too bright for....?" Miss Bingley could keep silent no longer.
Wickham merely looked at her in silence for a moment. He then turned back to the Colonel and said in a less controlled voice, "I could take no more of it when she said to me 'it would be nice if you fanned me, please. It would feel very good on my back'. Do with me what you will but I cannot go back to that room."
Both Fitzwilliam and Miss Bingley were hard pressed to control their amusement at the image this conjured. The gentleman managed to maintain a dignified demeanour, however, as he assured Wickham that he would not require a return to that particular room. "As long as you stay put this time, behave yourself and don't go climbing in and out of windows, I see no reason why you may not remain here instead." He looked to their hostess for confirmation who nodded in agreement. "Very well, then. Here you will stay until you are sent for by either myself, Miss Bingley or Darcy. Is that clear, Lieutenant?"
Reverting to the formality of their military positions gave Wickham no choice but to comply. Not that he wished to hazard another meeting with the imposing Lady Catherine. He'd seen enough of her to last a lifetime. "Perfectly clear, sir," he responded with enthusiasm.
Satisfied, the Colonel offered his arm to Miss Bingley and together they left the room. Once outside the closed door, however, the lady turned to him with a look of chagrin. "My absence from the Ball will soon be noted."
A soft, warm smile curved Fitzwilliam's lips. "I think we could spare another few minutes before the troops are sent to find you. Now, where were we before being so rudely interrupted?"
"I believe your honour was being put to the test." Caroline's voice was almost a whisper. "Sir," she added while her heart began to beat more rapidly.
"Ah, yes." There was no more time for words as he brought his lips to hers and sealed their fates.
Part Ten
If one were to count the number of Meryton residents who held Longbourn's mistress in high regard for her intellectual prowess it was likely to be a futile effort. Granted, there would be one or two, perhaps more, with less sense to recommend them and they were the few who nodded their agreement with each rapidly changing opinion of Mrs. Bennet.
Such it was that evening of the Netherfield Ball as the mother of five eligible daughters beheld the pleasant Mr. Bingley, attractive in more ways than one, pay special attentions to her eldest daughter. This was hardly unexpected. Close observation of the gentleman and his interactions with Miss Bennet implied no conclusion other than matrimony. Surely it was obvious to everyone! Still, a few jealous matrons held out hope of the young man's interest being a passing fancy, one which would benefit their own daughters and much more deservedly.
The evening was not devoid of surprises, however. Mrs. Bennet soon came to realise that another of her daughters had attracted an impressively eligible young man. There could be no mistaking the look in his eyes as he gazed longingly upon Elizabeth, no matter the physical distance separating them. She had seen that look in more than one man's eye in her own younger days. Mrs. Bennet was not so foolish as to think the daughter known for her stubbornness would be immoveable on the issue of Mr. Darcy. Even Elizabeth could not be so senseless as to refuse an offer from a man with so much to recommend him despite her professed dislike of him. Her mother was sure that all dislike would vanish once Lizzy realised the power she held.
Yes, two daughters well married before the year was out would be quite a coup. Mrs. Bennet was not about to let such an opportunity slip away. Her first task would be to redirect Mr. Collins' attentions. Of course, the original dilemma still remained. Despite Jane and Elizabeth's promising futures there was no reason to throw away a perfectly eligible young man, particularly when he was the heir to Longbourn.
Putting her mind to this task Mrs. Bennet observed her three youngest daughters. After considering each one she concluded that it was fortunate that Mary was next in line after Lizzy for neither Kitty nor Lydia would suit Mr. Collins. Mary seemed ideal material for a clergyman's wife. This matter was of sufficient significance to consult Mr. Bennet. At any other time, a week earlier, an hour earlier, she would have never considered seeking her husband's counsel where their daughters' marriages were concerned. At this moment, however, there was nothing more pressing than to have his ear. To this end Mrs. Bennet set out to find him amongst the diners, being rewarded with the sight of his person, happily situated between Sir William Lucas and Mr. Hurst. The latter appeared quite bored, eyeing his empty soup bowl while the former attempted to engage him in conversation. Mr. Bennet watched both men, interjecting a comment here and there whenever Hurst's reply failed to rise above a grunt. Sir William rarely needed any encouragement to continue any dialogue but even he was hard pressed when faced with a succession of monosyllabic responses. The spectacle was highly entertaining and well worth the effort of an occasional comment to keep it going, in Mr. Bennet's opinion. This diversion was interrupted, however, by the arrival of his wife at his elbow, breathless and excited. Not that this was unusual in itself. On the contrary, had she been calm and composed her husband might well have become alarmed.
"Mr. Bennet!" predictably cried his wife. "I must speak with you on a matter of vital importance."
This was also unsurprising; everything was a matter of vital importance to Mrs. Bennet. Steeling himself for another round of raptures over Mr. Bingley and his obvious affection for Jane, Mr. Bennet politely turned his attention in her direction. "Yes, my dear. To what end may I serve you?"
This was clearly a subject not to be openly addressed in the presence of the other two gentlemen. Mrs. Bennet therefore graciously acknowledged them while excusing the need to remove her husband from their company. Mr. Bennet took the hint, smiling at Sir William and Mr. Hurst, both men well acquainted with the peculiarities of silly wives, and allowed his own to draw him away to a more private location. Once safe from attuned ears he again spoke. "What is troubling you, my dear? I should have thought that such a night as this would have you busy making matches for our daughters."
"It is precisely that I wish to discuss with you." Mrs. Bennet had her most serious expression upon her face. There was no melodramatic handkerchief waving which in itself was almost enough to incite alarm. "It is Mr. Collins."
"He is not one of our daughters," her husband patiently pointed out.
"Well, I know that, of course!" She clucked her tongue. "We must decide which of our daughters he is to marry, though."
"I have not the pleasure of understanding you. Why are we to decide? Is Mr. Collins unable to make up his mind?"
Mrs. Bennet frowned in the unique way that amused her husband. "You know perfectly well that these things cannot be left to chance. If it were not for that horrid entailment I would not have to worry at all about who Mr. Collins chooses to marry. He has, however, come to choose from amongst our girls and we must decide who it is he will have."
"Would it not be better if we first determine who will have him ?" Mr. Bennet could not imagine any sensible woman truly wishing to wed his cousin but upon more sober reflection he knew that Jane could be prevailed upon to accept an offer from Mr. Collins if her mother insisted. The thought of his Lizzy plagued by her mother's insistence to marry for the sake of keeping Longbourn and herself comfortable was enough to turn his stomach. He could entertain no further contemplations after that. With great reservations he enquired of his wife what she had in mind.
"You know he would choose Jane if he could. Who wouldn't since she is the most beautiful? But she's already got Mr. Bingley."
"She does?" Mr. Bennet shook his head slightly. "Oh, yes. You would then suggest Lizzy?" He was prepared to counter any argument she put forth.
"Of course not. Lizzy is spoken for as well. That leaves us with Mary, Kitty and Lydia. Now," Mrs. Bennet began to count on her fingers the attributes of the remaining daughters. Her husband, however, was fixated on this surprising bit of news about his favourite offspring.
"One moment! What is this about my Lizzy? With whom have you paired her?" He was genuinely confused. "Lizzy has no particular suitor." His eyes widened. "You cannot mean Lieutenant Wickham! The man is not worthy of her in the least!"
His wife felt the familiar annoyance with the obvious preference shown for their second daughter, the one whom she considered would be the most difficult to marry off. "Certainly not," she clucked. "He is a handsome young man to be sure but has not even prospects enough to compete with Mr. Collins. No, although Mr. Wickham is by far a much more pleasant man it is Mr. Darcy who wants to marry her."
"How is it that you know his intentions?" This information did not sit well with Mr. Bennet. It was not the identity of the man in question that caused him distress, although Darcy's dour disposition did not recommend him. No, it was the thought of losing his favourite daughter so suddenly that gave Mr. Bennet a start. This was not expected and he disliked such ideas being sprung upon him. "I'm sure you are mistaken. Besides, Lizzy has no interest in him."
"That is where you are wrong," his wife assured him. "One look at the two of them at table together would show you that Mr. Darcy is completely ensnared and that Lizzy welcomes his attentions quite happily. I observed them myself, very closely. There is no doubt about it. We shall see Jane and Mr. Bingley wed before the year is out and Lizzy and Mr. Darcy soon afterward."
"It cannot be true." Mr. Bennet was beginning to feel faint. He reached for a nearby chair and sat down heavily. "It is all too sudden. There must be some mistake. My Lizzy could not find such a disagreeable man acceptable and I will not believe her capable of succumbing on a mercenary level."
"Would you rather she marry Mr. Collins?"
"Heaven forbid!" cried her husband, experiencing the strangest desire to fan himself. "The thought alone is torture!" His eyes sought his daughter's face amongst the diners still seated. "Where did you see her?"
His wife was pleased to point out the location of Elizabeth and Darcy. "As you can see, the gentleman is overflowing with admiration. Lizzy is a trifle coquettish with her lowered eyelids and fluttering lashes but I don't believe she is entirely aware of what she's doing. The effect on Mr. Darcy does her no harm, though."
Mr. Bennet was even more disturbed by the sight of Elizabeth openly flirting with a man of Darcy's status. His heart performed some odd palpitations. "This is all quite vexing." The words caught him by surprise as much as they did Mrs. Bennet. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. Slightly abashed, her husband tried again. "It is disconcerting to have two daughters so quickly accounted for yet having to rely on a third to marry Mr. Collins to keep Longbourn." He hoped that sounded like a reasonable explanation.
"I understand completely." She patted Mr. Bennet's hand comfortingly. "Shall I get something to help calm you?"
"Thank you, yes," he gratefully replied. "I could use some tea to settle my nerves." He shook his head, certain that what he was hearing was not his own voice but a bad dream. "I don't know what has come over me."
"Do not fret, my dear," Mrs. Bennet soothed. "I'll find you a nice cup of hot tea and then we can discuss Mary and Mr. Collins."
Mr. Bennet watched her bustle away, unable to think of a reply. Mary? Why Mary? Why should any of them become Mrs. Collins? There must be some other solution. His gaze travelled again to where Elizabeth sat with Darcy. He had to admit that the two seemed happy in each other's company. When did this begin? What sort of man is he, really? Is he worthy of my Lizzy? What little he knew of Darcy did not inspire confidence in the match.
It was time to find out the truth.
The walk across the room was short. Mr. Bennet's determined strides brought him to stand beside his daughter so quickly that his appearance startled the preoccupied pair. Darcy looked up, further surprised by the grim expression on the older man's face. Despite a sudden sense of foreboding, Darcy stood with dignity, greeting Elizabeth's father politely.
"May I also introduce my sister to you, sir," he added, directing Mr. Bennet's gaze toward Georgiana. "Georgiana, this gentleman is Miss Bennet's father." He was pleased to see his young sister's acknowledgement was impeccable.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Darcy." Mr. Bennet turned his attention back to her brother. "Mr. Darcy, may I have a word with you please?"
"Papa...." Elizabeth's voice faded away under her father's unusually stern look. It did not intimidate her, however. She merely needed to gather her thoughts together in order to address him. "Has something happened? What is it? Is there something I may do to help?" Her words had the effect she sought.
"Do not be alarmed, Lizzy. It is simply some imaginings of your mother."
This was what she had feared. Distracted in the delight of her time with Darcy, Elizabeth had neglected to remember that her mother would be watching with sharp eyes and a lively talent for speculation. She must have informed her husband for why else would Mr. Bennet be standing there now, asking for an audience with Darcy? "Mama's imagination can be quite wild at times. I beg you would not put too much faith in her suggestions."
"Would you not?" Mr. Bennet pursed his lips. He could have sworn that his daughter truly welcomed this young man's attentions. Was there more to this than met the eye? "Despite some of her more fanciful notions there is more often than not a base of truth."
Elizabeth sharply drew in her breath. "I would not wish to excite Mama precipitately," she quietly said, leaning toward her father with a covert glance at Darcy. "However, something important did happen this evening and will please her immensely." She sat back in her chair again, smiling smugly until she realised the ambiguity of her statement. "Oh!" she cried, eyes widening in alarm.
"Indeed." Mr. Bennet's eyebrows furrowed. "There is a tradition of requesting consent before one makes further plans. That is, unless one is predisposed to forego the formalities."
Darcy was a little confused by their wordplay. There was one thing of which he was certain, though; Elizabeth would not be made to stand up to her father alone. "Excuse me, sir," he interrupted. Mr. Bennet turned a patient eye on him. "I do not believe Miss Bennet was implying anything other than our mutual regard for the happiness of her sister and my friend. As impulsive as Bingley may be there is no reason to be concerned about him not adhering to tradition in such a situation." Darcy hoped the matter would be put to rest with his reassurance.
"Bingley, is it?" Elizabeth's father subjected Darcy to further scrutiny. An attractive young man, there was no doubt, but the air of superiority which clung to him like a second skin was something he was sure his daughter would not appreciate. There was some feeling of gratitude for the attempt to deflect his disapproval from Elizabeth. How could he not feel something akin to warmth for a man who would step in under these circumstances, knowing so little about the relationship between father and daughter? "Then it is Jane who is to be receiving congratulations soon? I must say that I am surprised that both of you are putting stock in your mother's fancies, Lizzy. And Mr. Darcy, you appeared to me to have more sense than to assign credit to the imaginings of a silly woman."
"Papa!" whispered Elizabeth, aghast.
"Lizzy, there is no use in denying it," her father stated, shaking his head. He crooked a finger at Darcy. "Come with me, young man. I will enlighten you as to exactly what your friend may expect upon marrying my daughter."
Darcy was thoroughly amused though he knew not why. This sort of behaviour more often disturbed him than entertained. There was something about Mr. Bennet, however.. or perhaps it was really himself? Then again, that delicate pout on the lips of Elizabeth indicated, he hoped, her disappointment in their separation, however brief it may turn out to be. Darcy dutifully followed her father away from the table.
"What was all that about?" exclaimed Georgiana when the gentlemen were out of earshot.
Elizabeth was discomfited. "It was very unlike my father. I know not what has come over him."
"Well, I must say that my brother isn't behaving as his normal self, either." A sly smile appeared on Georgiana's face. "Of course, I attributed that to your presence."
"Miss Darcy!" Red swept up into Elizabeth's cheeks. "You must stop putting thoughts like that into my head."
"Why?"
"It's ... well... I...." She surrendered all pretense of objection. "I could be very disappointed if you are mistaken. I seem to have developed a fondness for him that would be grieved if it were not returned."
The words brought satisfaction to both young women in equal degrees. Elizabeth had undergone a dramatic change in opinion in a few short hours. Voicing her newly discovered feelings for Mr. Darcy to his sister had required a forwardness which surpassed even her usual tendency to impertinence. Miss Darcy, wary for her brother's sake, was thrilled to find Miss Bennet appreciative of Darcy's seldom exposed tender emotions.
"My brother is the best of men," she quietly confided. "His admiration of you is the highest recommendation of your superiority to any other woman of our acquaintance. I trust his judgement. He has never failed me."
"You honour me with high praise."
"If you are to be my sister then you must be worthy of it." Georgiana's smile was warm.
Elizabeth marvelled at how quickly she had gone from believing Darcy unworthy of her company in the dance to wondering if she was worthy of him.
Part Eleven
The room felt confining. It was spacious, of course. No doubt about that. Just the idea that it was a prison was making Wickham squirm. He began to investigate his surroundings. The window through which he had entered he closed but did not lock, just in case he had need to use it once more. The curtain was drawn shut to forestall any betrayal of his presence should someone be looking in the direction of the window.
The room was sparsely furnished; two chairs, a side table littered with books, a tea cart bare of china and a modest chimneypiece under which a small fire burned. The room was not cold but it could not be called warm. To the left of the window was a large desk. The surface was clear but for a single book which lay open as if someone had been interrupted while reading. Wickham was bored enough that it fired his curiosity and he walked around the desk to peer at the page, smiling when he read the words.
They made what haste they could into the Tuilleries; and D'elmont having plac'd her on one of the most pleasant Seats, was resolv'd to lose no time; and having given her some Reasons for his not addressing to her Father, which, tho' weak in themselves, were easily believ'd by a Heart so willing to be deceiv'd as her's, he began to press for a greater Confirmation of her Affection than Words; and 'twas now this inconsiderate Lady found herself in the greatest Strait she had ever yet been in; all Nature seem'd to favour his Design, the Pleasantness of the Place, the Silence of the Night, the Sweetness of the Air, perfum'd with a thousand various Odours, wasted by gentle Breezes from adjacent Gardens, compleated the most delightful Scene that ever was, to offer up a Sacrifice to Love; not a Breath but flew wing'd with Desire, and sent soft thrilling Wishes to the Soul;
Wickham inspected the introductory pages; Eliza Haywood. Love in Excess. Chuckling to himself, he left the book as he'd found it, imagining that the Colonel and Miss Bingley had been reading it together. There was nothing but books to entertain him while waiting for Fitzwilliam's return. Reading had never been one of Wickham's preferred activities. He considered stoking the fire and reached for the poker when a sound from the hallway stopped him. The door suddenly moved as someone opened it very slowly from the other side. Wickham quietly darted behind the curtain, pulling it closed behind him and holding his breath that whomever was about to enter the room would not see the folds gently waving. There was a tiny sliver of light peeking through where the two curtains met with just enough room for Wickham to put one eye to the gap and witness the entrance of Miss Bennet. She slipped into the room and gently closed the door behind her. After a moment during which she appeared to be listening for signs of being followed, the young lady walked across the room to finger the small selection of books on the side table. Apparently nothing struck her interest for her head rose, a frown formed on her face and her eyes began to take in the rest of her surroundings.
Wickham shrank back from the curtain. The determined gaze of this young lady unnerved him. He felt as if she could see right through the heavy cloth to where he was hidden. He continued to watch through the tiny opening, however, observing her slim form slowly navigate the room until stopping at the desk with its open volume resting upon the surface. This certainly captivated her interest since she settled into the chair and began a serious study of the page before her. From their respective positions Wickham was able to perform a study of his own. While Miss Bennet was occupied with reading he appraised her. Surprisingly, there was little to criticise. This was not a reflection upon her attributes so much as wonder at his own reluctance to find fault. There was always something that could assist in keeping his distance. This in itself Wickham found worrying. He was unused to considering a woman as perfect.
Perfect!
That was frightening indeed! Just the thought that she might be perfect may lead to..... matrimony; and matrimony was something that must be avoided at all costs. Ladies without fortune were not for marrying no matter how beautiful the face or melodious the voice.
Pages rustled as they turned, drawing Wickham's attention to the stray curls that fell across her brow. A tiny bead of perspiration appeared which she quickly wiped away with a lacy handkerchief. The man behind the curtain was grateful for his lost opportunity to increase the heat in the room; it was getting warmer by the minute. He saw her lips move, heard her voice. Soft but clear, it reached him.
"What now could poor Amena do, surrounded with so many Powers, attack'd by such a charming Force without, betray'd by Tenderness within: Virtue and Pride, the Guardians of her Honour, fled from her Breast, and left her to her Foe, only a modest Bashfulness remain'd, which for a time made some Defence, but with such Weakness, as a Lover, less impatient than D'elmont, would have little regarded. The Heat of the Weather, and her Confinement having hindered her from dressing that Day, she had only a thin Silk Night-Gown on, which flying open as he caught her in his Arms, he found her panting Heart beat Measures of Consent, her heaving Breast swell to be press'd by his, and every Pulse confess a Wish to yield; her Spirits all dissolv'd, sunk in a Lethargy of Love; her snowy Arms, unknowing, grasp'd his Neck, her Lips met his half way, and trembled at the Touch;"
Rising suddenly from the chair, Miss Bennet turned and pulled aside the curtain, her purpose to open the window and enjoy the cool night air upon her face. In shock stood Wickham, mouth agape to be discovered. His feelings were nothing to hers; mortification in knowing she had been overheard, her indiscretion realized and by a man, no less!
"Sir!" she managed to utter, the only word able to make it beyond her treasonous lips.
Wickham recovered himself more quickly, having had practice in this sort of escape. "Miss Bennet," he said with a slight bow of his head. "Are you quite alright? You look a bit flushed. May I get you something?"
"Certainly not!" She backed away quickly.
"Please," he smoothly countered, extending a hand. "Do not be alarmed. I shall not harm you."
"It is not my physical safety which concerns me. I am sure that Mr. Bingley would not invite guests of a questionable nature."
Wickham nodded, comprehending her meaning. "A lady should always take care in choosing the company she keeps."
Her gaze did not waver as her chin came up. "A gentleman should be equally concerned if he values his own reputation."
A smile turned up one corner of his mouth. "Am I in some danger?"
Her eyebrows rose disdainfully. "Do you not know?"
Wickham knew only too well. He was in grave danger the longer he stayed in her presence. There was no choice for him, however. He had been forbidden from leaving this room and as long as Miss Bennet stayed the risk grew ever greater. "A lady's reputation is far more fragile, however. I would not wish to be the author of your ruin." He stepped out of the window's alcove and glanced ruefully at the barren teacart. "Unfortunately there appears to be no source of refreshment to fortify your nerves."
"I do not imbibe." Her statement was succinct; her chin rose even higher.
"I meant tea."
"Oh." The single syllable signalled the deflation of her courage. There was some period of silence while both contemplated what to say next. Finally she spoke. "I did not see you in the Ballroom earlier. Did you arrive late?"
"You noticed my absence? I am flattered." Intrigued by her short sentences and steady gaze, Wickham could not look away.
"Who would not note the absence of a young and handsome officer?"
"You think me handsome!"
Miss Bennet's lips parted in an impatient sigh. "I have seen that many of the young officers are handsome. I am not blind."
"Do you prefer handsome men to reading, then?" Wickham cringed inwardly. What had possessed him to make reference to that?
She blanched. "Reading?" Her eyes betrayed her this time, darting to the open book on the desk. Regaining her courage, she faced him with as composed an air as possible. "Handsomeness and an informed mind do not necessarily go hand in hand. I prefer the informed mind."
"Books provide a fountain of information to which we may otherwise never be exposed." I did not just imply that she would be an old maid, did I? He watched her carefully for any sign that he'd offended her sensibilities.
She was not affronted, however. Eagerly, she replied, "That is precisely what I tell my sisters! How refreshing to find another with the same love for learning. Have you any favourite authors or subjects?"
Wickham's mind drew a blank. He had spent so little time cultivating any interest in authors and the only subjects he'd studied were hardly suitable to discuss with a lady, especially this lady. "I would much rather hear of your preferences. Are you a lady who likes to read historical chronicles or do you favour the lighter fare, as many ladies often do?"
Her cheeks flushed a deeper red. "I did derive great satisfaction in studying the works of Fordyce in the last year. Lately I have discovered a great interest in reading a variety of authors that are not to be found in my father's library."
One eyebrow rose on Wickham's forehead. "Is that so? Where, pray tell, do you find these books then?"
Mary leaned forward and spoke in a heightened whisper. "I believe that Denny has been passing them along to my younger sisters who, of course, cannot comprehend them in the least." She giggled. "I found one quite by accident when it was left on a table in the drawing room. Thank goodness Mama didn't see it first!"
Wickham frowned. "Am I to believe that my friend Denny is leading young ladies into temptation with writings of a dubious nature? Surely they are not authored by his own hand!"
"No, no. They are genuine books. Nothing so very dreadful but certainly not what our father and mother would approve for our consumption."
"Is that so?" His eyes twinkled. "Why is a nice young lady, fond of Fordyce, reading such disreputable writings?"
Defensively, she took a step backward and her chin rose. "You would label them disreputable without having seen them. What does that mean for your opinion of my character?"
"Forgive me, Miss Bennet." Wickham performed a penitent bow. "My choice was a harsh one. Please be assured that your character is safe with me."
"Safe? What an interesting choice of words again, Mr. Wickham. Here we stand, alone in a quiet room while a large crowd is gathered just down the corridor. Yet if discovered together my character would be anything but safe with you." The serious nature of her remark made it sound like a rebuke, Mary realised. She was not adept at softening her style of address, however.
"We must then take precautions not to be discovered, hadn't we?"
"I have no reason to disguise my presence. It was you who was hiding behind the draperies when I entered the room. What exactly is your purpose here?"
There was that look again; the one that went straight through him. Wickham felt exposed. "I was waiting for.... someone." He grimaced at how feeble that sounded.
"Are you attempting to alarm me?" At his puzzled expression she continued. "Am I to believe that this someone may walk in on us at any moment, to the detriment of my character?"
"No. Oh, no. That was not what I intended." The young officer began shaking his head in a combination of amusement and frustration. "Although it is true that I am waiting for someone to return, I have no idea when he will."
"Ah, so it's a man."
"Yes." He met her gaze squarely, despite his misgivings. It was a mistake.
"Yes. Not a woman. I would have thought you were meeting a woman. Is that not what handsome young officers do?" Mary refused to release him from her scrutiny.
"Yes. I mean no!" Taking a deep breath, Wickham tried again. "I did not plan to meet a woman but I have nonetheless. Does it not disturb you to be here alone with me? You seem to be under the impression that I am less than honourable."
"I am sure that you are. However, it will do me no good to worry about what I cannot change and since only we two are aware of the situation there would be no merit in inviting trouble."
His eyes narrowed. "I think you would like some trouble."
Mary was aghast. "That is a very rude thing to say!"
"But accurate, is it not?" For a moment, Wickham let her fret in silence. "Come now, Miss Bennet. You spend your days wrapped up in the words of James Fordyce interspersed with dedication to improving your performance on the pianoforte. What better example of a morally upstanding young woman could there be?"
"You are mocking me, sir." Mary's expression was tight lipped.
"I am not." Shaking his head, Wickham contemplated reaching for her hand but curbed his impulsiveness. "You are to be admired for your faithfulness but cannot expect saintly devotion. Not even the most steadfast can be that faithful."
Doubt was written on her face. "You would have me believe that you admire me? Do you take me for a fool?"
"Nothing could be further from my thoughts." He wondered how long he could keep his feelings to himself. They were gathering in strength with each remark she dubiously countered. "I do not think you a fool, nor am I mocking you. I have not met any woman with your diligence and purpose. There is no shame in veering from the ritual of your days."
Her eyes flitted to the book on the desk. "I didn't put the book there. I just found it."
"I know."
"You were reading it!" The tone was more surprised than accusing.
"Not I," he laughed. "Although I will admit to being as curious as yourself when I saw it laying open there."
Now she blushed a bright pink. "You heard me reading," Mary said in a faint voice.
"Yes," Wickham nodded. "A more appreciative audience you would be hard pressed to find. It is not the selection to which I refer but the orator herself." He could see that she did not believe him, an experience he had seldom encountered. What was even more frustrating was that this was the first time he was sincere in his compliments, without an ulterior motive. He was at a loss how to proceed.
Any course of action he may have chosen was taken out of his control, however, for Mary suddenly said, "Did you hear that? Someone is coming."
"We cannot be found here together," Wickham stated, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the window alcove beside him. Drawing the curtain closed again, he quieted her protests by placing a hand over her mouth. "I will not be the one to ruin your reputation. It is not my intention nor will I allow it to happen accidentally under these circumstances. Now be quiet until we know who is coming and I figure out a way to extricate you from this mess."
She nodded underneath his hand which he promptly removed, cautioning her again with one finger raised to his lips. Then they both turned their attention to the sounds from the other side of the curtain. As the door opened a voice could be heard in mid-sentence.
".... no objection from Bingley. He is most accommodating."
Wickham's eyes widened upon recognising the voice. A second man spoke in reply to the first.
"It is unlikely that we will be disturbed here, as well."
Mary's eyes widened even more. She looked at her companion, suddenly grateful for his insistence that she conceal her presence. Here was the one person she would least want to have found her in possession of a questionable work of literature and in the company of a rogue.
"Shall we get right to the heart of the matter, Mr. Darcy?" requested Mr. Bennet.
Part Twelve
Mr. Bennet had utilised the few moments during the walk to this room to compose his thoughts and settle his disturbed feelings. His wife could not have possibly managed to correctly interpret two sets of lovers. His distraction at first had been her fantastic story of Mr. Darcy being enamoured of Lizzy. However, upon confronting his favourite daughter with this tale he was surprised to hear her claim that Jane and Mr. Bingley were as good as engaged. A father prefers to learn these things in the proper form. Mr. Bingley should have come to him first. Thus it was with equal, or perhaps greater, annoyance that Mr. Bennet considered the second young man said to be interested in his second daughter. Since Mr. Darcy was not held in high esteem by many, or any, of the Meryton folk, this particular father could hardly be expected to exhibit elation with the possibility of one of his offspring becoming legally bound to him, particularly his favourite.
The room into which Darcy led him was sparsely outfitted and the fire was low in the grate. A definite chill was in the air prompting Mr. Bennet to cross to the hearth and stoke the glowing embers until a satisfying lick of flame appeared. Turning his back to the warming fire he now faced the younger man with a feeling of confidence. This Mr. Darcy would have to prove himself before Lizzy would be permitted to leave Longbourn in his company.
"Well then, young man," said Mr. Bennet in a clear voice. "Does your friend understand the situation and the expectations surrounding his actions?"
Darcy had been similarly engaged in thought as they had made their way to this private sanctuary. Although no father himself, and having had no experience in requesting permission to court a lady, he relied upon his limited practice as Georgiana's guardian to anticipate possible responses from Elizabeth's father. He was already familiar with the reaction to deceitful and underhanded methods of romancing; Wickham had acquainted him with that feeling. It was not a method he would have applied under any circumstances, anyway. Darcy abhorred disguise. For this reason he considered how to phrase his responses to Mr. Bennet's inevitable questions and knowing what he would and would not like to hear from any potential suitors of his sister was not as helpful as he'd thought. He came to the disagreeable conclusion that there was little any man could say that would give him pleasure to hear. He hoped that Elizabeth's father was not as difficult to satisfy. The only possible approach, in Darcy's view, was straightforward honesty. Unfortunately, his natural reticence to expose his deepest feelings so openly was not likely to recommend him. Feeling a bit trapped, Darcy weighed his options. If he approached the subject from a practical point of view, emphasising his good character, solid family reputation and secure income from a sizeable estate, he was sure that Mr. Bennet was sensible enough to see the benefits of his interest in Elizabeth. However, if he spoke of his inexplicable attraction, emotional confusion and undeniable desire for Elizabeth, Darcy was sure he'd look the complete fool and what father would willingly pair his daughter with a fool? He could not see himself having any respect for a man who bared his soul when asking permission to court Georgiana. There was simply no need for that sort of exhibition.
This brought him full circle to a contemplation of Bingley's position; having already made an offer and been accepted before preparing the lady's father for the inevitable. Darcy, intimately familiar with his friend's sometimes impulsive behaviour, was brought up short by Mr. Bennet's words. "To whose expectations do you refer? I assure you that Bingley would in no way encourage unrealistic expectations on the part of Miss Bennet. As for what others, outside of their moments of privacy, may think of his intentions I can say only this; my friend is motivated by his own heart and I know of no man more kind or considerate of others' feelings than Charles Bingley. He is not unaware of how the minds of other interested parties work."
Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows. "I may then trust that what you and Lizzy said in the other room is true. Am I to expect a visit soon from Mr. Bingley?"
"That would not be for me to say, sir."
"Come now, Mr. Darcy. We are not playing a game here. I am the young lady's father and as such I need to know Mr. Bingley's intentions."
Darcy frowned. It had not been his aim to speak of Bingley's plans. He was much more interested in discussing his own. "I respectfully suggest that Bingley would be better able to inform you of that. Sir," he added, softly stressing the syllable. Mr. Bennet did not appear ready to reply. "Was this the reason you wished to speak with me?" Darcy continued. "I am sorry I cannot help you any further."
The older gentleman inhaled deeply. "Well, this puts me in something of a dilemma, you see." He crossed to the fire and began stoking the flames once more, his back toward Darcy. "My cousin, Mr. Collins," Mr. Bennet turned and waved the poker in the other man's direction. "I believe you have met him. Well, as it happens," he continued, placing the poker back in its place by the hearth. "Mr. Collins has expressed an interest in marrying Lizzy and, of course, should Mr. Bingley express a similar interest in Jane then all would be well. However, if Jane is not to be married then Mr. Collins will be forced to wait until the proper protocols are met; my eldest daughter will not be upstaged by her younger one marrying first."
Darcy felt as if he'd been struck a blow across his face. Collins marrying Elizabeth? It cannot be! "I was not aware that Miss Elizabeth was to be engaged." He nearly choked on the word.
"Nothing has been formalised yet, naturally. It is merely a matter of time. Once Jane is settled there will be nothing preventing a public announcement." Mr. Bennet slyly watched the younger man to gauge his reaction to this information. He still needed to be convinced that Darcy deserved the affection of his daughter before he would consider consenting to give this man her hand.
The image of Mr. Collins rose forcefully in Darcy's mind. "Is the gentleman willing to wait indefinitely?" He was not of the opinion that the clergyman would welcome the idea.
"Indefinitely?" Mr. Bennet asked. "Is there something you have neglected to tell me? I was of the impression that Mr. Bingley was intending to make an offer for Jane, later if not sooner, but your information has left me with a feeling of ambiguity. Now this use of the word indefinitely is not encouraging at all. Mr. Bingley did not strike me as the kind of man who toys with a young woman's affections. I could, however, be mistaken."
Darcy's alarm grew. Not only were his chances for a future with Elizabeth in jeopardy but he seemed to be dashing his friend's hopes as well. "I did not intend to convey that impression, Mr. Bennet. Believe me when I say that Bingley is the kindest and most good-natured fellow it has been my privilege to call friend. My mind was occupied with one aspect of your predicament when I asked if Mr. Collins would be willing to wait for Miss Elizabeth to be his bride."
"Do you doubt his respectability to adhere to the rules of etiquette, Mr. Darcy? As a clergyman I am fairly certain he would raise no objection to the request. On the contrary, I believe he may take offense if asked to disregard propriety in such an important matter."
A chill ran down Darcy's spine, prompting him to take a turn at urging the flames in the fireplace. "It is not for me to judge the appropriateness of your daughters' suitors."
"I do not recall asking for your opinion about Mr. Collins but your questioning of his inclination to wait for Lizzy until Jane is wed certainly seemed like you were offering it." Mr. Bennet considered his fishing would be rewarded with a strike at any moment.
"That was not my intent," replied Darcy, still facing the fire. "It was, perhaps, distraction."
The other man appeared puzzled. "I am at a loss to understand you. What could be occupying your mind that could distract you from the essence of our conversation? Please do not think I am prying into what is not my business if there is a personal matter concerning you."
Darcy inhaled sharply. "Quite frankly, sir, I was shocked to learn of an understanding between your cousin and your second daughter."
"What could possibly concern you there?" Mr. Bennet took this opportunity to make himself more comfortable by settling into one of the armchairs. "Is there something about Mr. Collins, as well, that I do not know? He is, after all, in the employ of your noble aunt. If I'm not mistaken, the lady who earlier interrupted the proceedings here was none other than Lady Catherine de Bourgh, am I right?" Darcy nodded in acknowledgment. "If we are being frank with one another I would appreciate it if you would inform me of any objection your aunt may have with this match."
"I have not discussed it with her," said Darcy, finally putting the poker back in its resting place. The fire was roaring, heating the room quite efficiently. He turned to face Mr. Bennet once more. "Her opinions are irrelevant. I am curious, however, why you would think Mr. Collins a good match for Miss Elizabeth and what the lady herself has to say about it. The pairing, in my opinion, is completely unsuited."
Mr. Bennet was grateful for the chair under him as it prevented him from falling backward in amazement at this young man's arrogant presumption. That his own opinion coincided with Darcy's was of no consequence. He knew nothing of Lizzy. For him to think that he knew Lizzy's needs better than her own father smacked of great arrogance or.... "Forgive me if my ignorance is showing but what are your qualifications for drawing this conclusion? You are unmarried, yourself. Are you sure that you are an apt judge?"
"My sister, for whom I am guardian, is nearing the age when she will be attracting serious suitors. I have spent considerable time evaluating the necessary requirements for such a man taking into account her particular strengths and needs." Darcy paused to draw a breath but Mr. Bennet spoke before he could begin again.
"You do not know my Lizzy, though. What will suit your sister may not be best for my daughter."
Determined, Darcy stated, "I know what suits your daughter and that is not Mr. Collins." It will never be Mr. Collins.
"Is that so?" The lady's father was more surprised than offended. However, he managed to appear outraged. "Mr. Darcy, I am beginning to dislike what I'm hearing. Pray tell, how came you to know my Lizzy so well!"
The younger man did not seem to notice his companion's tone. "We have attended several social gatherings and I've had the pleasure of conversing with Miss Elizabeth at most of them. Her wit is sharp, her disposition lively and her mind enlightened. She would be wasted on a fool like Collins."
"Arrr hmmm," spluttered Mr. Bennet, exerting great control over his mirth. "I would remind you that this fool is my heir and will be master of Longbourn upon my death."
"The whim of an ancestor and an accident of birth does not change the fact that he is a pompous fool." Darcy began to cross the room on long strides as he spoke. "You are perfectly aware of that for you are no fool. Elizabeth did not come by her wits from her mother."
"You are a harsh taskmaster, Mr. Darcy!" The words of Mr. Bennet caused Darcy to stop in mid stride and sharply turn around.
"Harsh?" he questioned.
Rising from his chair, the older man walked over to the younger, shaking his head. "You cannot offer me compliments on my daughter and myself while in the same breath you fling an insult about my wife's intelligence."
"I meant no insult, sir. Forgive me if my choice of words offends you. I prefer honesty in all of my dealings."
"This is not a business deal, young man, or are you intending to make an offer of some sort?"
A bead of moisture trickled down the back of Darcy's neck as he met the unwavering gaze of Mr. Bennet. The room suddenly felt stifling. "Do you find it hot in here?" he mumbled, moving toward the curtains which hid the window alcove. Thrusting the fabric aside he stepped forward and pushed open the window. The cool night breeze wafted in, drying the dampness around his collar. Filling his lungs with the fresh air, Darcy turned to answer the question. "My intention was to gain your approval that I may court your daughter. If the understanding between her and Collins has already been arranged, however..." His head lowered while he sought the words to express himself. "I am an honourable man, Mr. Bennet, but this sorely tests my ability to remain so. I simply cannot remain silent in the face of such an injustice. Miss Elizabeth deserves better."
"And you believe that you are the better man for her?"
"I believe us to be ideally suited for one another," Darcy nodded.
Mr. Bennet dealt his final card. "What if she is not of the same opinion?"
This possibility had not occurred to Darcy and he stood for a moment in stunned silence. In his mind he could hear every conversation he'd had with Elizabeth, the playful tone of her voice and the witty repartee in her words. Suddenly he was assailed by doubts he'd never before experienced. What if I have misunderstood her intent? It cannot be possible that she has no interest in me as a potential husband, can it? He replayed her words but could find no indication of anything but polite and ladylike behaviour. At once scornful of himself for letting his imagination lead him to conclusions that he desired to see, Darcy faced the very real prospect that he had allowed irrational emotion to cloud his judgement. Still, the question was before him; what would he do if Elizabeth did not share his opinion of their suitability and preferred that he bestow no attentions upon her? The answer was not simple but the choice was clear. "I would respect her decision, of course." Darcy quickly continued to make his point. "Whatever her opinion of me does not alter the situation as it stands. Collins is not a good match for her and I cannot believe that she would consent to such a marriage. I would be honoured and pleased beyond comprehension for Miss Elizabeth to accept me but if it is not her wish... I ..."
Mr. Bennet interrupted to spare the man what pain he could. "I do not honestly know her opinion, Mr. Darcy. The question has never come up. I was under the impression that you were not one of her favourite people but these things may change. Who really understands a woman's mind?"
Darcy thought of his sister and could only agree. The two men stood in silence for some minutes, looking out at the night sky and enjoying the cool breeze. At length they could hear the musicians warming up in the distant ballroom and knew it was time to return. Darcy was hesitant. What he had learned in this room held more influence over his next actions than he wished to consider. Mr. Bennet was mildly disconcerted with the result of his jest, not having believed Darcy capable of true affection for Lizzy. The young man was visibly affected by the idea that Mr. Collins would be welcomed into the Bennet household as Lizzy's husband. The sad fact was that Mr. Bennet was not only in complete agreement with Darcy's assessment of his cousin but that he had gained an excellent understanding, and liking, for this gentleman from Derbyshire.
"There is no understanding between them."
"I beg your pardon?" Darcy gaped.
"Mr. Collins has expressed interest in marrying Lizzy. That is all. He approached me first," Mr. Bennet explained, "as befits the proper conventions. I am reasonably certain that he has not asked Lizzy yet."
Darcy's mouth closed and a faint smile turned up the corners. "Mr. Bennet," he began in a formal voice. "May I request the honour of courting your daughter, Miss Elizabeth, for the purpose of marriage?"
Unable to hide his own smile, Mr. Bennet replied with another question. "Are you prepared to wait until my eldest daughter is duly wed before expecting Lizzy to become your wife?"
"It will not be a long wait, sir." Darcy grinned. "Of that I am sure."
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