Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Chapter 8
What a terrible thing to have lost one's mind.
Or not to have a mind at all.
How true that is.
~ Dan Quayle
Lucas watched the carriage roll away slowly as he stood on the drive beside Bingley. "Well?" asked Lucas. "Have you decided what to do?"
Bingley looked at his friend curiously. "Decided to do about what?"
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "About Miss Bennet, of course. She really is quite the angel, Bingley. She is sweet, even-tempered, and quite beautiful. Almost doll-like in her ethereal beauty."
Bingley stuck his hands in his pockets nervously, looking down at his shoes as he rocked backwards on his heels. "I don't know what I can do, Lucas. I'm not comfortable with marriage proposals or interviews, never having had one, of course."
"Of course."
Bingley looked up at his friend. "I really need advice, Lucas. But I cannot go to Darcy as I usually do. He does not approve of it, I know. He says that he has no opinion, but I can tell that it is not true."
Lucas sighed. "I can only say go with your heart, Bingley. Don't ever care what society says, even what your best friend says. If you believe that you will be happy with her, that this is the woman you love, ask her. Don't hesitate."
"Yes," Bingley said softly, then louder: "Yes! I'll do that. Now, let me go get my horse."
Lucas grabbed Bingley's arm before he could walk away. "Bingley, they just left. I think you might wait until at least tomorrow."
"Oh, yes," Bingley mumbled, disappointed. "Then I think I'll go upstairs."
He turned and went up the stairs and through the front doors. Lucas remained behind, staring down the drive to where the carriage was just disappearing from sight. A slight smile creased his face. This was going along swimmingly. His next conquest would be Darcy and the lovely Eliza Bennet. It would be trickier; Darcy was in love and wouldn't admit it without the aid of a bit of liquor, and Eliza was perfect for him, and she believed she hated him. Ah, but he could tell that there was an attraction between the two that neither could deny for much longer, especially with him involved.
He felt someone behind him before he even heard the voice. "We must talk, Lucas."
Lucas smiled without turning around. "About what, Darcy?"
A sigh. "Everything."
Lucas shrugged. "Shall we adjourn to the library? Since no one ever penetrates those hallowed walls, we shall be free from interruption, eh?"
He turned and walked past Darcy and up the stairs. The butler held open the door for the two gentlemen as they walked into the house and down the hall to the library. As Lucas went to sit down on the corner of the desk, Darcy closed the door behind them and remained there, leaning against it. He gazed down at his feet as Lucas reached into the box sitting on the table and pulled out a cheroot. He lit it, then looked up at Darcy. "Yes? You said we had something to discuss?"
Darcy looked up at his friend. He looked away almost immediately, and pushing himself away from the door, went to stand at the window. Gazing out of it, he said, "It was rather cruel of you to have that drinking party last night, and intentionally get us drunk."
"Your headache any better?"
Darcy turned and looked at Lucas for a moment. "Yes it is, thank you," he said in a flat tone of voice. He returned his gaze to the window. "How much did I say?" he asked softly.
Lucas shrugged, though the gesture was lost on his friend. "Enough."
Darcy slammed the heel of his hand on the windowsill before him, spinning around to look at his friend calmly smoking his cigar. "And what does that mean, Lucas?" he said, anger penetrating his tone. He took a step forward. "What is enough? What game are you playing this time?"
Lucas smiled lazily, smoke wreathing up to the ceiling. "Who said that I was playing a game, Darcy? You are always looking for conspiracies where none exist."
"There exists one here, I am sure of it."
Lucas raised an eyebrow, and pushed himself off the desk. He strolled over to the bookcases and began scanning the titles. "Perhaps there is, Darcy," he said, running his finger over the spines. "What are you going to do about it?" He stopped and pulled out a dusty tome. "Ah! A Vindication of the Rights of Woman." He held the book up for Darcy to see. "You ever read this, Darce? Very good. Laughable at times, I think, yet she's got great logic."
Darcy snorted. "A womaniser like you believes in women's rights?"
"Simply because I have fun with women," Lucas said tiredly as he put the book on the shelf, "does not mean I do not think that they have intellect. I believe that women ought to have the right to rule themselves. A woman rarely is allowed to hold her own property or funds. Do you know that many women are beaten by their husbands to near death? And there is no way for them to be prosecuted. And men can file for divorce from their wives, saying that their wife is an adulteress, yet a woman can do nothing-she can't say a word when her husband comes home with trollops; she can't argue when he set his mistress up in the house. You think that's fair?"
Darcy held up his hands. "I wasn't disputing that. I know that women have the worse part of the bargain in a marriage. It's just..." He paused and looked at his friend with confused eyes. "I just never realised you were so interested in this kind of thing. You've always had this care-for-nothing attitude, and even when we see your deeper side, I never realised that it was this...well, deep."
"Was that supposed to be an insult," Lucas asked wryly, "or did it just come out that way?"
"I'm sorry, Lucas," Darcy said apologetically, "It's just-"
Lucas stopped him with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it, Darce. I know what you meant."
There was silence in the room for a while as Lucas continued looking at the titles on the books, his cheroot still between his lips. Darcy stood meditatively looking at the floor at his feet at his place halfway between the window and the desk, his arms crossed over his chest. He dug at the carpet with the toe of his boot. He looked up as Lucas began speaking again. "So what do you think of Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"
"I thought we had this conversation before," Darcy said.
"I'm sure we did. But I must have forgotten what you told me."
"She's not for you," Darcy said slowly.
Lucas turned to look at his friend shrewdly. "What's that supposed to mean? I think we go well together. We've the same temperament, the same love of life, the same love of the ridiculous, strong intelligence-"
"Yes, but I don't think she'd fit well into your kind of lifestyle."
"What, the lifestyle of a bachelor?" Lucas laughed. "Of course not. I wasn't even suggesting it. I'd change, of course. I cannot be such a free man when I've been leg-shackled."
Darcy sighed and wandered to the window again, clasping his hands behind his back and staring out. "But you live in the city-"
"Only when I'm not in the country."
Darcy glanced over his shoulder at his friend, an annoyed expression on his face. "But you are a part of the ton, the high-and-mighty lords and ladies of the ton. They wouldn't accept her."
"They accepted Lady Windemere when she was only a governess, and he only an earl. Are you telling me that they wouldn't accept a gentleman's daughter from the country?"
"I don't know what I'm saying," Darcy said exasperatedly, throwing up his hands in frustration. "She simply isn't for you, Lucas. I know."
"No, you don't know," Lucas replied evenly. "You said it yourself. Tell me why she really isn't acceptable. Come, man, spit it out."
There was complete silence as the two stared at each other steadily. "I don't know what you are talking about," Darcy said coolly.
Lucas smiled knowingly. "Are you sure? I heard it from your own lips: 'She's handsome, and self-assured, and independent, and intelligent. She doesn't need someone like me. She's too good for me,'" he said in a tone nearly like Darcy's, only slightly slurred.
Darcy stepped backwards, then turned around, his hand on his brow as a memory tugged at the back of his mind of a brandy-induced haze. "Oh, my God. Did I really say that?" he panted. "I can't believe I was so...stupid!"
"Stupid?" Lucas asked softly. "Or merely truthful?"
"No!" Darcy said forcefully as he spun around. He pointed an accusing finger at Lucas. "This is all your fault." He threw his hands up. "And I'm sure you're going to tell me I also admitted to loving her."
Lucas shrugged and turned back to the bookshelf, but Darcy grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, his nose centimetres from Lucas'. "You will keep this to yourself." He stopped and leaned back for a moment, a look of incredulity on his face as he stared thoughtfully at Lucas. "That is what you talked to her about this morning, isn't it?"
"No, it isn't," Lucas replied.
"It is!" Darcy cried triumphantly. "You are such a liar, Lucas. You can't even own up to what you have done. And that is what you were smiling and laughing about wasn't it? Oh, Darcy is such a fool! He is so easy to catch, isn't he? Well no more, I tell you!" he said, slamming his fist down on the desk. "I will be immune to her wiles from now on. There will be no way that she will make a fool of me!"
Lucas's eyebrows had practically disappeared into his hairline. "Isn't this a bit drastic, Darcy?"
Darcy looked at his friend. "Oh, that's what you'd like to think, wouldn't you? After all, you are a party to this, aren't you? Well, you can tell your comrade that she won't be able to catch me. Not a chance. From now on, I am staying as far from her as possible."
"Then you won't mind at all if I court her?"
A short hesitation. "No," Darcy replied shakily, then a bit more steadily: "No, absolutely not. Do whatever you will."
Lucas smiled craftily. "Thank you for your consent, my good man. And I will relay your message to her."
Darcy watched Lucas walk out the door of the library, his arms still folded across his chest. When the door was closed, he breathed heavily and sat down on the corner of his desk, wondering if was doing the right thing.
Chapter 9
It is generally agreed that "Hello" is an appropriate
greeting because if you entered a room and said
"Goodbye," it could confuse a lot of people.
~ Dolph Sharp
To say the least, Mrs. Bennet was surprised when a carriage from Netherfield rolled up before Longbourn. She was out the door, running towards it when the carriage door was opened and Elizabeth descended. "What are you doing here?" her mother screeched.
"Very nice to see you again, too, Mama," Elizabeth said with a grin.
"And why did you come in Mr. Bingley's coach? Have they thrown you out?" She moaned dramatically and threw her hands in the air. "I knew it would come to this! I never should have allowed you to walk-of all things-over to that house and ruin poor Jane's perfectly good chances to receive a marriage proposal! Oh! My poor nerves! Now what shall I do?"
Elizabeth glanced at Jane, and the two of them walked past their moaning mother and into the foyer, where Mr. Bennet was standing. "It is good to see you, Lizzy," he said, giving her a quick peck on her forehead. "It is good to see you, Jane," he said to Jane. "You cannot imagine what it has been here without your sense and wit in this house. I've had to hide in my library most of the time, only excepting for meals and sleep." He smiled wryly. "But I have news. I cannot wait to tell you." As he saw Mrs. Bennet coming towards them, he cleared his throat. "Shall we go to my library? It shall be much quieter, I assure you."
Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances, but followed their father to his library, where he closed his door quickly, then went around to sit at his desk. Jane and Elizabeth sat in front of his desk and waited. He took a letter from a drawer and held it up. "This is a letter from your cousin, Mr. William Collins. It seems that he shall be visiting us. He wrote a fortnight ago, and a few days ago I answered him." He paused and after a short hesitation, thrust the letter across the desk. "Read it to yourselves. I've already read it twice, and have no care to read it once more. There is only so much amusement one may draw out of an inanimate object. We'll have to wait for the rest."
Elizabeth took the letter and held it so that both Jane and she could read it. When they were both finished perusing the letter, she looked up at her father with a raised brow. "He does not strike me as the most sensible person, Papa. Do you think he shall appear better than his letter shows him?"
"I highly doubt it," Mr. Bennet replied calmly. "But I shall bear it stoically if I am disappointed."
Jane was holding the letter in her hands now, re-reading parts. "He seems kind enough, I think. He must be a good man to be trying to make amends for his father's wrongs."
Mr. Bennet chuckled. "You think that, Jane, if it makes you feel better."
Elizabeth smiled. "Perhaps he tries to be a good man-too hard. He is probably pompous, obsequious, and quite ridiculous."
"But do not making the mistake, Lizzy, of prejudging him," her father replied, "for you may be sorely disappointed. You may find that he is the most sensible, intelligent man you have ever met." The two glanced at each other and immediately began to laugh.
Jane shook her head slowly. "For shame. What if he is what you have just described, Papa? You will have prejudged him, and then you will not treat him as you should."
"How often does that happen, Jane?" Elizabeth asked. "I have never found a person that I did not judge correctly on my first meeting them. I feel quite competent of my good judgment in first impressions. And this letter is my first impression of him. So unless pigs begin to fly, I seriously doubt that I shall be wrong."
"Well said, Lizzy," Mr. Bennet said, clapping his hands slowly. "You are my most discerning daughter. Now, Mr. Collins shall be coming within the next few hours, I project. So, freshen up, if needs be, and be ready to greet our esteemed guest."
Jane had left the room, and Elizabeth was closing the door behind her when she heard her father call her name. She opened the door again and looked in. "Yes, Papa? Is there something you need?"
"Yes, actually, I do," Mr. Bennet replied, gesturing for her to come back in and sit down. "I had a question. I happened to be listening to your mother's bumbling yesterday, and she mentioned something about another gentleman coming to Netherfield. I think she mentioned the Quality, or some such thing. Said the rumour was going around he was an earl."
"A viscount, actually." Elizabeth grimaced. "And I am sure she thinks he will marry one of us."
Mr. Bennet's lips curled into a wry grin. "Actually, yes. She was talking about Lydia, though I doubt a man of such stature would even consider a wife of fifteen, much less a pauper from the country. Did you happen to meet him?"
"Well, yes," Elizabeth replied, somewhat guardedly.
"And what kind of man is he? The typical care-for-nothing titled gentleman? A London nabob?"
Elizabeth smiled. "All of that, I suppose, and yet not really. He is an inveterate rake-definitely not the dandy. He is quite handsome and charming, also. He casts the appearance of a devil-may-care attitude, but I think he is much deeper than that. Even when he is acting his flippant role, he is shrewd and manipulative. And I mean acting, for I believe I was given a glimpse of the true Lucas Harding, and he is very little like the superficial man he portrays."
"And is there any danger in him?" Mr. Bennet asked, his fingers steepled thoughtfully against his lips.
Elizabeth shook her head firmly. "None at all, Papa. He is helping me, in fact."
Mr. Bennet sat forward with curiosity. "In what way, pray tell?"
"He is helping me to rid myself of Mr. Darcy."
There was complete silence in the room as Mr. Bennet digested this information. "And how is he planning on doing this?"
"We have a plan, Papa," Elizabeth said with a grin. "He is going to court me, though I shall repudiate his advances. In that way, Mr. Darcy will see that I am unworthy of his scorn, for if a future duke thinks I am worthy of him, then I am worthy of a gentleman with no title at all."
Mr. Bennet's eyes had narrowed to slits as he gazed at his daughter, rattling off the plan with enthusiasm. "And why is he offering his services? Do you not think this a bit strange that he would be helping you, a veritable stranger, to...ward off Mr. Darcy's disapproval?"
Elizabeth looked pensive for a moment, then shook her head. "I do not question his motives. There is something-I don't know precisely what-but we are two of a kind, Papa. He is so like me in temperament, in interests. Well, in most interests," she said, two flags of colour appearing on her cheeks as she thought of one of the viscount's pursuits. "He is helping me because it relieves his tedium; because he, like both you and I, enjoys mocking the ridiculous, laughing at irony."
Mr. Bennet said nothing, but remained doubtful. He would have to investigate a little more, but he was sure there was another reason behind all of this. And he had a hunch that it had something to do with the relationship between his daughter and Mr. Darcy. He simply had to find out what. The best thing to do, he resolved, was to make the acquaintance of this viscount...and get in on the plan. "So I take it there shall be no marriage plans for the two of you?"
"No! Absolutely not," Elizabeth said, slightly horrified. "Lucas and I are too similar of temperament, too similar of tastes to make a good match. We would drive each other into Bedlam within a fortnight, I vow. We can be friends at best, but that is all."
He smiled. "Well, then. I shall not worry about making sure I have enough money for a new suit. Or shall I look into it for Jane's wedding?"
Elizabeth smiled. "I would if I were you. It seems to me that a proposal is eminent. Within the next few weeks, I should assume; perhaps even tomorrow, if Mr. Bingley had a slight push in the direction of Longbourn. And probably Lucas will be the one to supply it, for he seems to have the mind of a matchmaker."
A spark was suddenly lit in the back of Mr. Bennet's brain, and he nearly laughed with both his daughter's intentional blindness and the irony of what this Lucas was trying to do. It was a Herculean task, and yet would be-oh!-so much fun. Yes, he would have to meet this gentleman as soon as humanly possible.
"And shall I be meeting this gentleman soon?"
"Mr. Bingley? You've already met him, Papa."
Mr. Bennet shook his head. "Lord Harding, my dear. When shall I be meeting him?"
A puzzled look came over Elizabeth's face. "I'm not sure. I believe he shall be staying in the country for a while, so perhaps he will come to visit. After all, it will help the appearance of his courting me, no?"
Mr. Bennet nodded, and waved a hand in dismissal. "Now, go get yourself ready for your cousin's arrival. And practice trying not to laugh. You may need that skill."
Elizabeth hugged her father and impulsively kissed him on the forehead before flouncing out the door and up the stairs. Mr. Bennet watched her leave, and smiled to himself. This would be so much fun: not only to watch his cousin's antics, but the matchmaking of two people who insisted they hated each other. Oh, yes, this would be fun.
Lucas was just mounting his horse when Darcy came into the stables. The latter was wearing his riding breeches and held a whip in his hand. But when he saw Lucas on the horse, he turned and began to head out of the stables again. "Wait, Darcy," Lucas called. He squirreled and ran to where Darcy had paused in the doorway. "Look, I'm sorry," he said in as abject a voice he possibly could summon. Darcy simply looked at him, his expression not changing from the stormy one he had had since he saw Lucas. They stared at each other for a few moments, neither willing to break until Lucas finally looked away. He knew when it was time to lose.
"What do you expect me to say, Lucas?" Darcy asked softly, a voice which belied the banked anger in his eyes. "Do you think I want you anywhere near Miss Elizabeth?"
"So that's what this is about?" asked Lucas. "I wasn't sure."
"Then what were you apologising for?" Darcy replied. "If you didn't know what you were apologising for..."
Lucas shook his head. "I just knew that something was wrong, and if I didn't apologise, you would never forgive me for whatever transgression I might have made." He flashed a totally unrepentant smile, and Darcy just glared. "You know Darce, I've told you this more than a million times: you have to lighten up." He walked over to his horse and mounted again. As he arranged his reins, he paused to look at Darcy. "If you don't, you know, you'll never win Elizabeth's good opinion." Before Darcy could respond, Lucas had planted his heels in the horse's flanks, and rode off.
Lucas chuckled as he cantered away from the stables. He had seen the shocked and mutinous expression on Darcy's face before he rode away. He couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before his friend would finally admit to himself what Lucas-and probably more than a few other people-could so plainly see. That he was in love with Elizabeth Bennet.
And that's where he was headed off to right now: to visit the lovely Miss Bennet. He couldn't help himself. He was like a little boy, off on his imaginary adventure, ready to slay any dragons that might appear with his trusty wooden sword-even the one who didn't breathe fire, but mathematic principles. He got in big trouble for that.
But here he was again, riding off to slay dragons; still imaginary, but this time, the dragons weren't large and scaly, but the dragons of prejudice and assumptions. And this dragon could be tougher to slay than any of the imaginary ones he ever thought of-combined. It was going to take a lot of work. Perhaps he would even need an ally, because he sure didn't have a suit of armour.
He had waited a day, though Heaven knew that he was impatient to start. Bingley had gone to Longbourn this morning, right after an early breakfast. If Lucas had been awake, he would have stopped him, but unfortunately, Lucas had spent a long night at the tavern, and hadn't been up in time to tell Bingley that it was too early to make a morning call. So now he was on his way to pay his own respects.
The moment he reached the drive to Longbourn, he realised that Bingley had asked Miss Bennet to marry him, for there was a great rejoicing inside the house, very audible to his ears. He rode on and finally reached the house. He went in after leaving his horse with a stable boy and was greeted by Elizabeth, who had seen him arrive. She smiled warmly and grabbed his hand, leading him into the parlour. As she opened the door, she looked back at him. "You knew he was going to ask this morning, didn't you?" She laughed as he smiled like a cat caught drinking from the cream jar, slapping him lightly on the wrist. "You could have at least told him not to call so early. We were not even finished with breakfast!"
As she opened the door, Lucas took in the scene. One woman, apparently Elizabeth's mother, was joyfully embracing her future son-in-law, then her eldest daughter, then a gentleman Lucas guessed to be Elizabeth's father, then Elizabeth, then finally, him. This last embrace made Mrs. Bennet finally stop, when she realised she had just hugged a complete stranger. "Oh, I am sorry, sir," she said, horrified.
Lucas smiled. "Think nothing of it, madam. I can imagine the joy having a daughter married would cause."
Mrs. Bennet smiled and attempted a laugh, but looked questionably at Elizabeth, who smiled with an embarrassed glance at Lucas. "Mama, this is Viscount Harding. He is a friend of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy."
This statement caused Mrs. Bennet to look even more horrified than before. "Oh, I'm sorry, my lord! I had not realised! Oh, my nerves! I am so sorry."
"Do not think anything of it, ma'am. I assure you, I do not mind." He sent a laughing smile at Elizabeth, who though embarrassed, managed a small smile.
"Lord Harding, let me introduce you to the rest of my family. This is my father, Mr. Bennet, and you know my sister Jane. This is Mary, and over here are Kitty and Lydia." She gestured to a greasy gentleman who had just come forward bowing. "This is my cousin, Mr. Collins, who has come visiting. He is the rector at Hunsford for Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Mr. Darcy's aunt." She sent him a significant glance, and he had to struggle to hold back a chuckle.
"I am pleased to meet you all. I had hoped to make your acquaintance, but Bingley had forgotten to inform me he was making a call earlier, so I followed him at my earliest opportunity."
"You are too good, my lord," said Mr. Collins. "I know my noble patroness would think the same thing, for you to deign to call upon our poor, humble selves."
Lucas nodded seriously, not even trusting himself to glance in Elizabeth's direction, for fear he would lose his self-control. "I believe I have met Lady Catherine, and a nobler person there has never been."
"You know Lady Catherine de Bourgh?" Mr. Collins with an awestruck mien. "And do you know her daughter, as well?"
Lucas smiled. "We have been introduced, yes."
Mr. Collins gasped. "Oh, then you are well-favoured, indeed. For you cannot help but agree that there is no more refined or gentle lady than Miss Anne de Bourgh."
A choking sound came from Elizabeth's direction, and Lucas smiled. "Indeed."
"Would you like something to drink, Lord Harding?" came a new voice. Lucas looked over to see Mr. Bennet, a smile on his face, standing near the fireplace, an eyebrow raised in query.
"Thank you, that would be nice," Lucas replied, slightly curious.
Mr. Bennet nodded, and began to walk towards the door. "Then come with me to my library. We will have a drink together there."
Lucas glanced at Elizabeth, but she shook her head slowly, confusion written plainly on her face. He smiled slightly, and she smiled guardedly in return. He followed Mr. Bennet down the hall and through a door into what was plainly Mr. Bennet's library. Mr. Bennet offered him a chair, then poured sherry into two glasses. As he handed Lucas one of the glasses, he looked at him squarely and said evenly, "I want in."
Chapter 10
There are only two truly infinite things, the universe and
stupidity. And I am unsure about the universe.
~ Albert Einstein
"Sir?" Lucas choked out.
Mr. Bennet smiled. "You heard me, Lord Harding. I want in on whatever you are planning to do. I have found out most of the details-at least those that my daughter was able to supply so unwittingly, and I have a feeling I know exactly what you are going to do. I want to be in on this. I have always loved a good, manipulative plan, and I would like to help. What can I do? The role of disapproving father is too mild, though, so don't even suggest that."
Lucas raised his eyebrows and laid his glass on the desk before him. He leaned forward and looked squarely at the other gentleman. "And who says that I am doing anything? Perhaps this is only a figment of your imagination, a plan, a conspiracy where none exists."
"Oh, no," Mr. Bennet said, shaking his finger at Lucas. "Don't even try that on me. I know exactly what is going on, and I know that you are trying to interest your friend Mr. Darcy in my daughter Elizabeth and likewise. Just like you suggested that Mr. Bingley come to ask for my other daughter's hand this morning."
Lucas smiled slowly. "You are quite discerning, Mr. Bennet. If I judge you rightly, you are also quite amused by the gentleman in your living room."
"Which one?" asked Mr. Bennet with a smile on his face.
Lucas nodded. "Exactly. Now, you want to be a part of my plan, do you?"
Mr. Bennet smiled. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away."
Lucas nodded. "That's exactly what we need."
Darcy quickly perused the note Caroline handed him. A slight scowl formed on his lips as he looked up at her. "What does this mean?"
"Exactly what it says, Mr. Darcy," Caroline purred. "My brother has asked the little garden snake to marry him, and now he and your titled friend are dining at Longbourn." She paused and glanced in the general direction of that estate. "Which reminds me. I do believe you ought to warn Lord Harding. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I believe, has designs upon him. She has been digging her claws into him and his wealth and title since they met. He cannot realise how poisonous country snakes can be."
"As opposed to city ones?" Darcy said coolly with a significant glance in her direction, which she failed to catch.
Miss Bingley laughed as if it were a joke. "Miss Eliza would not fit into our society, Darcy, even if she wore the finest clothes or had the grandest title. She shall always be a country nobody." She tittered. "Can you imagine her, presiding at Pemberley? Oh! What a joke!"
Darcy nodded absently, still staring at the letter in his hands, and Miss Bingley, finding this to be enough encouragement, continued in this vein until Darcy suddenly walked away without saying a word. She stopped, startled by his rudeness, but recovered quickly and chased after him. "Mr. Darcy?" she called as he walked towards the front door. "Where are you going?" She picked up her skirts and ran down the steps quickly. "Mr. Darcy!"
He continued to walk in the direction of the stables, not even acknowledging her. Miss Bingley followed him more than three-quarters the way, then stopped, defeated. She watched silently as he left the stables leading a sable-coloured stallion. She ran closer. "Mr. Darcy!" He looked at her now, with a nearly surprised expression on his face. "Where are you going?" she panted as she tried to catch her breath from running so far.
"Why, to Longbourn, of course," Darcy replied, his face stony. "If Lucas is going to be bitten, I might as well be there to save him."
Miss Bingley merely stared at him in horror as he mounted his horse and rode off. She remained there for a few minutes afterwards, a thoughtful expression on her face. At long last, she turned back to the house and walked slowly back to the front steps. When she reached the doorway, a slow smile spread across her features, and she chuckled to herself, not even noticing the odd look the butler was giving her. "Ah, yes, Darcy," she muttered to herself. "And I may have just the anti-venom needed."
Meanwhile, Darcy was riding across the fields, taking the shortcut to Longbourn. He wanted to make it there before dinner. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he nearly stopped his horse. He looked down at his clothes in fear, but then remembered that he had changed for dinner at Netherfield nearly a half-hour ago. He sighed in relief and continued on. At least now he would not be ashamed of his appearance.
He arrived at Longbourn and dismounted, handing the reins to a stable boy whom had run out to take the stallion. He then approached the door and knocked succinctly. It was opened by the housekeeper who let him in, her eyes round with surprise. She curtsied quickly and went to find her mistress. When she returned, she led him into the parlour, where the others were sitting. He glanced around quickly, noticing the startled faces. He merely smiled, bowed to his hostess and host. Mrs. Bennet, though somewhat reluctantly, extended the invitation to dinner for him as well, and he accepted. He bowed again, then offered congratulations to Jane before taking a seat beside Elizabeth, on the opposite side as Lucas.
He caught Lucas' eye as he sat down, lifting an eyebrow in challenge. Lucas merely shrugged and turned to his right to speak to Mr. Bennet. Darcy was about to speak to Elizabeth, when he was accosted from someone on his left. He turned to find a greasy-looking gentleman stooping over, smiling at him. "Mr. Darcy, I hope you will allow me to tell you that your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was in good health no more than three days previous."
Darcy felt repulsed and quite offended by this gentleman's appearance and proximity. He had opened his mouth to ask this gentleman's name, when Elizabeth laughed beside him. He turned to her with a raised eyebrow. She smiled in response. "This is my cousin, Mr. Darcy. Mr. William Collins, the rector at Hunsford, your aunt's parish."
A slight smile quirked his mouth as Darcy nodded in understanding. He sighed as he turned to the obsequious man, who was still standing quite close, rubbing his hands together. "It is good to know that, sir."
Mr. Collins smiled, baring all his teeth. Darcy grimaced inwardly and looked the other way. Perhaps this was some sort of punishment, he wondered, for being so stubborn and snappish with Lucas earlier. That was probably the reason why Lucas refused to help him, though he was having enough fun laughing inwardly from where he was sitting. It still would be more kind and Christian-like to help Darcy be rid of this barnacle.
But Darcy's prayers were for naught. Lucas remained where he was, laughing and talking with both Elizabeth and her father (which made Darcy slightly curious as to the reason for their level of intimacy). He was forced to listen, though half-heartedly, to Mr. Collins' jabbering. At long last, the announcement that dinner was ready came, and Mrs. Bennet insisted that rank and file be observed. Darcy watched with amusement as Lucas, because of his title, was forced to escort the grinning Mrs. Bennet in to dinner. Mr. Bennet took his eldest daughter on his arm, and Darcy smiled to himself as he realised whom was next. He offered his arm to Elizabeth with inward glee, and felt a shiver run through him as she placed her hand tentatively on his arm.
He wished there had been more room between the dining room and the parlour, for he wanted more time with Elizabeth on his arm. He wanted to explore the sensation having her by his side created, a feeling that was foreign to him, so completely at odds with his independent, self-assured nature. He actually desired to delve into this mystery, this emotion. He shook his head inwardly, wondering if he was truly losing his mind. Or perhaps Lucas was right. Perhaps he was in love with this beauty by his side. Perhaps he simply didn't wish to acknowledge it...before now.
Yet as he pulled out her chair and then took one beside her, he realised that there was something in the way she became his every thought, in the way she backhanded every compliment, in the way she smiled at him that challenged him to love her. If that was her intention, she was prospering. He would be hers on a platter by the end of the week. His mind told him that he had to resist, that she was merely taking advantage of the situation. But his heart told him that she could love him, if given a chance; that the pleasure possible if he yielded to his feelings was worth anything. To have her by his side for the rest of his life was too great a temptation.
As the dinner proceeded, he pondered how he should go about wooing her, when he ought to ask her father's permission. He could not be called experienced in this type of situation by any means. By the time the dinner ended, and the three gentlemen were on their way back to Netherfield, Darcy had decided it within himself to ask advice from Lucas. After all, Lucas was the self-assured society gentleman, who would know of such proceedings, right?
What Darcy never realised-never even considered-was that he had started his courtship on a bad note; that the whole dinner with his intended fiancée by his side, waiting for some semblance of courtesy from him, was spent in silence.
Chapter 11
People are governed with the head; kindness
of heart is of little use in chess.
~ Sibastien-Roch Nicolas de Chamfort
Darcy and Lucas sat in the study at Netherfield across from each other over a chessboard. Bingley sat near the fire, half-asleep, a childish smile upon his face. Darcy looked over at him and shook his head. "Look at him; he's like a cat in a cream pot. I hope never to be so in love as he is."
"Why would you not wish to be as deliriously happy as he is at this moment? I would be. If the woman I love loves me in return, why should I be unhappy?" Darcy's eyes narrowed at the phrasing of his friend's question, but Lucas seemed so blasé, so nonchalant, that he brushed the nagging suspicion aside. Lucas went on: "Love is not the emotion of fools, Darcy, as I am sure you think."
Darcy scoffed. "Then what is it?"
A slight smile creased Lucas' mouth as he moved forward a black rook, capturing one of Darcy's knights. He held it up to the light, gazing at it thoughtfully as its sculptured marble edges caught the flickering candlelight. "Love is everything. Love is the reason we have life, Darce. Did you ever notice that everything we do is based on the emotion of love?"
"Or hate," Darcy said bitterly as he moved a pawn.
"Ah!" cried Lucas. "But hate is sometimes simply the lack of love. Other times, the avowal of hate is actually a deep love that a person will not disclose."
Darcy smiled wryly. "You are no philosopher, Lucas."
"I do not try to be," Lucas replied abruptly as he took Darcy's queen. He shook his finger lightly at his friend. "You are not paying attention tonight, Darce. What are you thinking?"
"I don't know," Darcy responded with a sigh, moving another piece. "I really don't know, Lucas. There are too many problems I have to deal with right now."
"On your estate, you mean?"
Darcy looked up at his friend in surprise until he saw the gleam of amusement in Lucas' eyes. His shoulders relaxed somewhat, and he shook his head. "No, not with Pemberley. There haven't been any troubles there, unfortunately. I wish it were only that. Estate problems I could deal with. This, I am drowning." He watched Lucas, waiting for a response, but the latter was intent on concentrating on his next move. He went on: "I know that this may be awkward, Lucas, but I need your help. It's about Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
A slow smile spread across Lucas' face as he trapped Darcy's bishop. "Elizabeth, eh?" he asked, not even bothering to look up. "You don't think I have a chance with her, is that it? I think I do. She has been quite warm to me lately."
Darcy's face darkened, and he looked across the room at Bingley, who had fallen asleep in his chair, his face still wreathed in smiles. "Perhaps I shouldn't have even said anything," he murmured.
"No, no," Lucas cried, waving a hand carelessly at him. "Go on, go on."
As he turned back to the game, Darcy sighed. "I don't think I can. If you persist in this façade that you have created, that you love Miss Bennet, I cannot speak with you. I had wanted your help; I had thought you were my friend."
Lucas could barely keep from laughing, as his friend sounded very much like a petulant little boy, deprived his favourite treat. But he managed it, if only to keep on good terms with Darcy. As it was, he was only two steps from the edge of the precipice. "Of course I am your friend," he replied soothingly. "Now tell me what ails you, and perhaps I shall have the remedy."
Darcy shot a dark look at his friend, and took his knight with a rook. Lucas only laughed and rebuffed the move by capturing the rook with his queen. "This is my favourite piece, by far. Have you ever thought of this: how funny it is that the strongest piece in the game is the woman? Of course the king is important-the centre of the game, in fact-yet he can do very little. The queen, in actuality, defends him. She's so independent, so intelligent, so beautiful, no?"
Darcy responded with a quizzical look. "Are you still talking about the chess piece?"
Lucas merely shrugged. "However you take it, Darce." He smiled as Darcy moved a knight into place to trap the queen. "And everyone wants her, too," he laughed as he moved the piece to safety. Lucas's laughing eyes flashed a challenge as they met Darcy's across the chessboard. Darcy held his gaze, his own expression threatening.
At last, it was Darcy who broke eye contact. He looked down at the pieces, and took in his crumbling defenses with a despairing look on his face. As he realised his quandary, he reached over and tipped over his king, saying, "I concede defeat, Lucas."
"No, you don't," Lucas replied steadily as he righted the white king. He picked up his queen and held it up between them, the light glinting off the polished stone. "This is my lady, Darcy. Catch her if you can."
A new sense of determination entered Darcy's expression as he understood the double meaning. His face became set in stone as he watched Lucas set the piece down again. He moved one of his own pieces, then waited for Lucas' next move. Their expressions became intense and their concentration became unwavering as this game became more than just that.
Suddenly, Darcy made a swift move, capturing Lucas' queen. He held it in front of his friend's face and crowed in triumph. "I have your lady, Lucas. She's mine now."
Lucas didn't respond. His face was purposefully expressionless, and his eyes were fixed upon Darcy's face. And as Darcy looked at his friend, his smile began to fade, and a dark shadow crossed it. "You cheated," he said softly, pointing an accusing finger at his friend. Then louder: "You cheated, Lucas. You let me win!" He shoved the chessboard aside in anger, and the pieces went crashing to the ground, awaking Bingley from his nap. He leaned on the table, the queen still clutched in his right hand and glared at Lucas. "You are playing a game that I don't think I like."
Lucas didn't respond. His expression did not waver, and his eyes didn't move, not even when Darcy slammed a fist on the table, and with one final stormy look, slammed out of the library, still carrying the queen. He didn't even respond at first to Bingley's worried question. But at last he turned and looked at that gentleman with a slight smile. "Nothing is wrong, Bings. Darcy has simply discovered the game. And I don't think he likes it. Yet."
"Papa?" Elizabeth peered around the door of her father's library. When she saw him sitting in a chair by the fire, a glass of wine on the table beside him, she slipped through the open doorway and closed it softly behind her. She walked over to the chair opposite his and sat down in it quietly. "Papa?" she asked again.
He looked up at her, a surprised look on his face. "Lizzy? What are you doing down here at this hour of the night?"
"I had to ask you a question." He waited for her to continue, and she buried her hands nervously in the folds of her gown. "What did you and Lucas speak of this afternoon?"
He shrugged. "I had to meet the fellow, Lizzy. We talked of common things: hunting, fishing, wine, you." He took a sip of his wine while she stared at him with wide eyes.
"Me? You spoke of me? Why?"
"I had to find out his intentions, my dear," her father replied.
She spluttered and turned red at this statement. "Oh, Papa, you did not embarrass me like that, did you truly?"
He smiled. "Of course I did. But the viscount was quite amiable about it all; it did not bother him in the least. In fact, he even permitted me to become involved in the plan." Elizabeth merely stared at him. He chuckled. "Oh, yes. I am to have a part in the play, too, my dear. After all, the more actors, the better the performance. Everyone shall be taken in by us now. You see, my dear Lizzy, I could never allow an opportunity of such great potential to pass me by. Your cousin is amusing, but not quite enough. This will be much better."
"I suppose so," Elizabeth muttered, more to herself than to her father. "But what role are you to take?"
"Ah, that is a tricky part," Mr. Bennet replied. "For the most part, I am to take whatever part is needed at the time. Most especially, I have to pass on observations to your mother, who is bound to gossip about it to everyone in the neighbourhood. This will help inestimably, you know."
Elizabeth grimaced. "I am not so sure I wish to have my name bandied about so much. And Lucas agreed with this plan?"
Mr. Bennet nodded with a smile. "Of course. In fact, he was really the one to come up with the idea in the first place. After all, the rumours will help to create a sense of the real, of fact. Otherwise, the two of you are simply floating around, hopefully being taken notice of by Mr. Darcy."
"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth scoffed. "That gentleman is so enigmatic sometimes. Did you see him at dinner tonight? He sat next to me the whole time, and did not say a word, even when I asked him a question. I at least attempted to be civil. But he simply sat there, glaring at his food as if it would run away if he removed his eyes from it."
Her father did not respond at first. He, too, had seen Darcy in his fit of abstraction. But he, unlike his daughter, had noticed the surreptitious glances that gentleman had been making at Elizabeth during the dinner, glances of both confusion and another, more tender, more passionate emotion. The thought made him smile. The plan was working better than either of them could have hoped. "Of course he is not going to act towards you as is our goal. We have barely begun our plan. It will take a few weeks, at least. You cannot expect his opinion to change in the course of a day."
Elizabeth looked thoughtful. "I suppose you are correct." She shrugged. "I don't know what I was expecting. I suppose I simply wished him to be a bit more...kind at least." She paused in thought, then: "No, I don't wish him to be kind. Of course I do not." She laughed at herself as she continued, "I do not know what I am saying. I do not wish him to be kind to me. He has already shown me that he is proud and haughty, and now completely rude. I only wish him to leave me alone."
She laughed as she kissed her father on the forehead and slipped out of the room. He gazed after her, his eyes slightly unhappy. "Be careful what you wish for, my dear. Be careful what you wish for."
Chapter 12
You possess a mind not merely twisted, but actually sprained.
Lucas and Mr. Bennet were not the only ones to have a plan, though. Another gentleman here in Hertfordshire had one of his own, as well. His renowned and noble patroness had suggested it to him the day before he left. She told him to marry, to find a young gentlewoman that was pleasant, pretty, and a credit to his profession and marry her. So he was ready to marry. All he had to do was find the right young lady.
When he first came to Longbourn, he had looked at all five of the Bennet sisters. They were all of them pretty enough, and genteel, and quite amiable. He had decided, though, on the eldest. After all, she was very pretty, very pleasant, and a very great credit to his profession, being very quiet and unassuming. And her being the eldest, she ought to be the one to marry first. Yes, the eldest would do perfectly.
But then the gentleman from a neighbouring estate had come and ruined his plan by proposing first. So he had had to choose another. He only had to change them slightly, though, for he realised that the next eldest would do just as well. She was nearly as pretty, somewhat pleasant, and could learn to be a credit to his profession, he was sure. Yes, Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be perfect.
While in a discussion with Mrs. Bennet, he hinted at his plan. This plan was immediately met with disapprobation. Elizabeth, Mrs. Bennet declared, recalling the marked attentions paid by the viscount to that daughter, was decidedly off limits. She was certain that a certain gentleman was quite interested, and she was expecting a proposal soon. No, Elizabeth Bennet would not be a good choice.
So, with a sigh, he tried to decide what to do. There were only three Bennet sisters left to choose from. The youngest two, he decided, were too flighty by half. They were definitely not the kind of wife Lady Catherine would approve of. They were pretty, it was true, but would not be a credit to his station. The third Miss Bennet-a Miss Mary Bennet-seemed quiet enough. And though she was not decidedly pretty, she had a few good qualities. She read a lot, and not just novels; he had seen her reading Fordyce's Sermons the day before. She would be a very good credit to his profession. Yes, Miss Mary Bennet would do wonderfully.
So he set about his duty. Whenever he saw her, he would bow and smile kindly at her. He often came to listen to her practising at the pianoforte, and when he saw her out walking in the gardens, he would inevitably find himself desirous of a walk, as well. He was joyous when an opportunity came for him to spend a long period of time with her. A few days later, when the three gentlemen from Netherfield-Mr. Bingley, Lord Harding, and Mr. Darcy-arrived at Longbourn, they suggested a walk. Lydia and Kitty declared their wish to walk to Meryton, and the gentlemen agreed with this idea, saying it went directly with their plans.
So Mr. Bingley offered his arm to his fiancée, Kitty and Lydia ran ahead, Lord Harding and Mr. Darcy glared at each other over Miss Elizabeth's head, and Mr. Collins was left to escort the lovely Miss Mary. He walked quickly besides her, wiping the sweat from his brow, and talked to her of his parsonage, Lady Catherine, and Rosings. She seemed to listen to him rapturously, and nodded and agreed in all the right places. Did he dare to hope that he had a chance?
But of course! For who would refuse Mr. William Collins of Hunsford parsonage? Especially one in such debilitated circumstances. And with such a noble patroness as Lady Catherine, his chances were astronomical. No, Miss Mary Bennet would not refuse him. In fact, she would be so grateful, that she would bless him prodigiously.
When ought he to ask her? Perhaps tomorrow morning would be good. He could ask her first, then receive permission from her father, who would be bound to bless their union. After all, he was the heir to Longbourn, and by taking the hand of one of the daughters of the house, he would be connecting himself forever to the Bennets. It was like an olive branch, as he was fond of saying. An olive branch; yes, that was it exactly.
He smiled smugly to himself, and walked with a slight swagger. Oh, yes, he was the most fortunate gentleman, indeed. He was to be engaged to a beautiful, intelligent gentlewoman, and was the heir to a large estate. What else could be better?
When the group entered Meryton, Lydia and Kitty stopped and looked in shop windows. Bingley and Jane strolled the streets, smiling and talking to each other and greeting acquaintances. Lucas and Darcy were still trying to capture and hold Elizabeth's attention, and Lucas seemed to be winning, much to Darcy's chagrin. Mr. Collins and Mary were slightly behind, and Collins seemed to be dominating the conversation, though Mary threw in a few intelligent words here and there.
They had been walking down one side of the street, though spread apart, when Lydia gave a small shriek and pointed across the street at two gentleman walking there. She whispered something to her companion, and the two crossed with the stated purpose of seeing something in an opposite shop. When the three behind them looked to see what had attracted the two girls' interest, two of the three stopped dead in their tracks, one turning white, the other glancing warily at the first. Elizabeth turned and looked at the two in confusion. "What is wrong?" she asked.
Lucas was the first to recover. "Nothing," he replied quickly-almost too quickly-with a wary glance at Darcy, who was still staring at the opposite side of the street in shock.
She put her hands on her hips and looked at them in annoyance. "You expect me to believe that? If it were truly nothing, would it have warranted such a reaction as Mr. Darcy here seems capable of?" She paused and glanced across where her sisters were now in conversation with an officer she had met before-a Mr. Denny-and one on whom she had never laid eyes before. "All I see is an officer and a well-dressed, handsome gentleman." She blushed as she realised what she had just said to two gentlemen. Darcy only directed a sudden glare at her.
"Miss Bennet," Lucas started, but Darcy cut him off with a wave of his hand.
"This discussion is not meant for the street, Lucas," Darcy said curtly. "Perhaps we might take it elsewhere?"
Lucas nodded in agreement and looked questionably at Elizabeth. She thought for a few moments, then said, "Perhaps we might go to the inn? We could request a private chamber."
"But the proprieties..."Darcy murmured.
"Could Jane and Bingley hear?" Elizabeth asked quickly. "I could ask my cousin to chaperone my sisters until we return. Then I shall not be a lone female with two gentlemen."
Mr. Darcy's lips thinned, a myriad of emotions traversing his face, but he nodded. They caught up with Bingley and Jane and relayed their plan. The two looked somewhat curious, but agreed nonetheless, and the five retired to the inn and requested a private chamber. They were granted one immediately with no raised brows, and shown in. It was not a particularly lush chamber, but was decent. Jane and Bingley sat together on a sofa near the fire and Elizabeth chose a chair a short distance away. Lucas sat down in a chair opposite her. Darcy declined a chair. He instead walked to the only window and looked out. He remained there for a few moments as Elizabeth, Jane, and Bingley looked at each other in confusion. Lucas merely slouched in his chair and stared at his clasped hands. At last, Darcy turned and walked forwards a few paces. He looked up at them and began:
"I suppose you are all wondering what this is about. Well," he said nodding to Lucas, "except for you, for you already know every detail. This is about the gentleman to whom the two youngest Miss Bennets were talking. His name is George Wickham. He was the son of my father's steward at Pemberley. We grew up together, as we were very near in age, and I had no other playmates at the time. Wickham loved to get in trouble as a child, and as a young man, loved it all the more. Despite this, my father was his godfather, and was very fond of George. My father never knew even half of what Wickham did.
"My father provided the funds to put Wickham through Cambridge at the same time as me, and also Lucas here." He paused and looked at that gentleman for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice held a bit of irony in it: "Lucas and Wickham got along nicely, for they had many interests in common. I will not state these interests, for there are ladies present, but suffice it to say that they were not within the bounds of propriety, and definitely not within Wickham's means, though they may have been for Lucas. He was constantly asking me to bail him out of the River Tick and of course, I did.
"When my father died, he stipulated in his will that a valuable family living was to be held in trust for Wickham as soon as it became vacant, in addition to a legacy of one thousand pounds. But Wickham declared that he had no interest in the church whatsoever, and instead stated a preference for law. I hoped, rather than believed this to be true, and compensated him for the living by granting him three thousand pounds. I had hoped that this would be enough, but not three years later, I heard from him again. He was in dire circumstances and requested my pecuniary assistance. You cannot blame me for refusing, for I knew that any assistance I gave would only help for a few months, perhaps. I would not be like one blackmailed-once one gives in, it never ends. I ignored all requests, and after a while, the letters stopped coming. I had thought that to be the end."
He ran a hand through his hair and looked at the ceiling, the pain evident in his eyes. He looked down again and walked forward through the gauntlet of their gazes and stood before the fireplace. After gazing at the dusty ashes for a few moments, he turned and looked at them all. "I was proved wrong last summer. My sister, Georgiana, who is more than ten years my junior, was left, after my father's death, to the guardianship of my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam and myself. About a year previous, we had taken her from school and placed her in London in the charge of Mrs. Young, a lady whom we all believed to be of exemplary character. We apparently had been deceived. Last summer, she and my sister went to Ramsgate, and thither also went Mr. Wickham. It was undoubtedly arranged, for there had apparently been some prior acquaintance between Mrs. Young and George Wickham, which I will not speculate upon. Wickham imposed upon my sister, and she was persuaded to be love with him and to consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen years old, and I might offer this as an excuse for her behaviour.
"But the elopement was never to be. Lucas happened to be passing through Ramsgate with...a lady friend and saw my sister with Wickham. He was immediately suspicious, and sent me an express. I was able to come to stop the elopement immediately, much to my relief and Wickham's distress. If not for my sister's reputation, I would have called him out on the spot, but I had to suffice with threatening Wickham of the revelation of his debts, which might cause legal ramifications, and discharging Mrs. Young from my employ.
"I believe the chief object of Wickham's attempt on my sister was her dowry of thirty thousand pounds, but I believe a strong inducement also may have been the opportunity of gaining revenge upon me." He stopped there and ran a hand through his tousled hair. He looked up at Elizabeth, the pain evident in his eyes. "You can see, Miss Bennet, why I felt this was needed to be said. Few know of this painful episode in my life, and I wish it to remain that way. I have never done before what I have just done, and believe me when I say that I hope it is never again necessary. But I trust you all, and I believe in your circumspection. I will do my best to rid Meryton of his presence, but please, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, keep close watch on your sisters. Though I do not believe he would pursue them for their lack of dowry, that same fact might induce him to pursue them for other less desirable matters."
Elizabeth was staring at him in shock. She couldn't move for a while, but then swallowed and said hoarsely. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy, for the warning. I...I am amazed. Shocked and grieved. I thank you for your trust in us to impart such close and private knowledge. It must have been painful..." she trailed off as she stared into his pained eyes, her heart reaching out to him in pity and compassion.
Elizabeth was the first to look away. She had been uncomfortable with whatever had just passed between them. It had been palpable, almost; it had been heart-rending. She felt as though she had just been torn apart and re-assembled. And she didn't know why. She liked him more than she had before, it was true; he had shown a more sensitive, vulnerable part of himself this afternoon. And she didn't know what to do with that knowledge. She pushed it away, unwilling to think on what it all meant.
But Lucas had seen the look that had passed between them. He had seen the emotions in her eyes, the transformation that had been occurring, even though she did not know it herself. And he smiled, knowing that his job would soon be over.
Chapter 13
When in doubt, use brute force.
-Ken Thompson
The three gentlemen accompanied Elizabeth and Jane to their aunt's house in Meryton, where their sisters and cousin were waiting. The Netherfield party was immediately invited to the small dinner that evening, and much to Mrs. Phillips' delight, they accepted. They departed soon after, and were escorted to Longbourn, where the gentlemen took leave, promising to see them that night.
Elizabeth dressed very carefully that night, adding finishing touches for nearly an half-hour. She told herself that it was merely for Lord Harding and their plan, but a corner of her heart whispered that it was for something-for someone else. She sighed at her reflection and finally went down to the waiting carriage. They set off for Meryton.
The Netherfield party had not yet arrived when the Bennet sisters and Mr. Collins arrived. Most of the officers were, though, and Elizabeth was much chagrined to note that Mr. Wickham was one of their numbers. If she had known that he would be coming, she would have dissuaded Mr. Darcy to appear. But now it was too late. Much too late.
For at that moment, the Bingleys, Mr. Darcy, and Lord Harding arrived. All eyes turned that way, but Elizabeth was able to gauge the reaction of Wickham to Darcy's presence. He turned a bright red, then a ghastly white colour. Then he began to slowly retreat.
Darcy had not yet spotted him. He had seen Elizabeth, and stared in her direction the entire time he was making his courtesies to the hostess. As soon as he was able, he approached her. He bowed over her hand and smiled at her somewhat hesitantly. "You are looking in good health since I saw you last. In fact," he hesitated, then said hastily, "you look breathtaking." He flushed, and she took pity on him.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Darcy." She lowered her voice somewhat. "There is a slight problem, though. Look to your left."
He did as he was told, as nonchalantly as possible, but when he saw whom she was indicating, his face suffused with colour, and his muscles tensed in anger. He cursed under his breath, and looked back at her, his eyes seething with fury. "This just had to happen, didn't it?" he bit out.
Lucas approached just then and whispered to them. "A certain someone has come."
"We know, Lord Harding," Elizabeth said quietly with a light hand on his arm, preventing him from saying anything else. "There is nothing we can do, though, other than avoid him as much as possible. It would look very bad if you were to leave immediately."
On the other side of the room, a certain person was watching this exchange with interest. His eyes narrowed shrewdly as he caught the emotions between the Elizabeth and Darcy, then her hand upon Lucas Harding's arm. He quickly asked a neighbour who the young lady was, and was rewarded with the answer that it was Miss Elizabeth Bennet from Longbourn. He smiled slightly and nodded. He would have to gather more information.
He soon discovered that Miss Elizabeth was the niece of the hostess, the sister of the two young ladies he had met that afternoon. Her older sister, the tall, beautiful blond he had seen come in with them, was engaged to the young man with whom she was speaking-a friend of Darcy's. He had recognised Lucas Harding at first sight, but then grew suspicious when he had heard of the rumours about Lucas and Miss Elizabeth. He decided to do a little observing himself.
He wandered over, a glass of wine in hand, to where Miss Elizabeth and Lucas were standing talking. He watched them closely yet surreptitiously. They seemed to be quite close, yet not as intimate as the rumours implied. They seemed to be only friends, yet friends with a secret, if he judged correctly. He wondered idly what that secret was. If he had enough time, he would have to discover it.
He was startled when he became conscious that someone was standing beside him. He looked over in surprise and nearly dropped his wineglass when he realised that it was Darcy. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and smiled artlessly. "Good evening, Darcy."
"You will stay away from her," Darcy replied evenly. "Both her and the rest of her family."
Wickham only raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, but I do not follow, Darce. Whom exactly did you wish me to stay away from?"
"Miss Bennet."
A low chuckle erupted from Wickham's throat. "You're quite blunt, you know. Why do you not simply hang a sign on her that says 'Darcy's property?' After all, that is what she is, am I right? I'm surprised you're even allowing Harding to flirt with her like that. You haven't grown tired with her so soon, have you? If so, I am always available to occupy her lonely ni-"
He was suddenly cut off by the force of a hand on his neck as he was slammed against the wall behind him. The sound of his wineglass shattering on the carpet mingled with the collective gasp of the room, followed by shrieks and screams and men's shouts of alarm. His hands flew to the iron grip on his neck as he struggled to take in air. "You will not speak of her like that," growled Darcy in a low voice. Wickham couldn't have responded if he had wanted to. His face grew bright red, then began to turn purple. And still Darcy didn't let go. Couldn't. He was too angry; all he could see was the red haze that misted his eyes. It wasn't until he felt the frantic tugging on his arm, and the pleading voice that he relaxed his grip somewhat. Then two strong pairs of hands pulled him away from Wickham. He shook his head free of the angry red fog and looked around. Elizabeth was still standing beside him, her hand on his arm, but she pulled it back suddenly, as if it were scalding hot. His gaze collided with hers and he saw the censure there. He suddenly felt ashamed of himself, of his lack of self-control. With her one look and action of disgust, his whole world crumbled. He turned and saw the disapproval in everyone's eyes, and felt lower than mud. He shoved Lucas aside and stormed out of the room. Everyone's eyes were upon him as he left.
Lucas caught up with Darcy as he stood in the rain outside the house. Lucas stood beside him in silence in the down-pouring rain, waiting for it: "I am a fool," Darcy said quietly.
"Yes, Darcy, you are," replied Lucas.
"I have only made him a martyr. I have only made things worse. And Elizabeth..." his voice broke, and he covered his face with his hands in shame.
Lucas laid a hand awkwardly on Darcy's shoulder. "Look, Darce, don't beat yourself up about it. We all do dim-witted things once in a while. I've had my share of them, to say the least."
"But did you see what I did?" Darcy cried, turning on his friend. "Did you see what I just did?"
"I think everyone did," Lucas remarked wryly, but his voice softened when he saw the despairing look in his friend's eye. "You've been having a rough day, Darcy. Emotions have been running high. And I heard what he said-you had every right."
"No, I didn't, Lucas. No, I didn't. If it had been you...perhaps it might have been fine, but I am nothing! Look at me! Who am I? I am no lord; I have no title. If he were to take me to court..."
"He'd have a lot of witnesses."
Darcy's face fell even more. "And Elizabeth...she'll never forgive me." Lucas didn't know how to answer. For once, he had nothing to say. So he stood silently in the rain beside his friend, one hand on his shoulder, gazing out into the street. Darcy spoke again, quietly and painfully: "It was not right, what I did. And I regret doing it. I do. But I can't be sorry that I did. If he said it again, I would do the same thing. Does that make sense?"
"It makes the most sense in the world," Lucas replied seriously.
The two stood in companionable silence for a moment, both wondering how they were to escape this tangle. It was a long time before Lucas looked down at his clothes and said, "My valet will have a fit. This was my best suit by Weston, and these Hessians are definitely gone to shot. I don't think we can return inside, either, for she'd throw us out immediately. We'd get water stains on her carpeting and furniture. Why don't we take the carriage, then send it back for Bingley and his sisters."
Darcy didn't respond. He simply allowed Lucas to take control. He stepped into the carriage without saying a word, then sat in his seat and stared at his trembling hands. He said not a word the whole ride back to Netherfield; did not look up once. He sat silently, dying inside.
Elizabeth stared at the doorway where she had last seen Darcy, running from his actions. She had been surprised, to say the least, of his sudden flare of temper, but she and Lucas had been close enough to hear what the exchange had been about. She was puzzled, though. Why should he have defended her like that? Was their plan working that well-that he should respect her so much that he would defend her? But no, that was too implausible, too illogical. He would not have lost his temper like that, disgraced himself so foully for mere respect.
You haven't grown tired with her so soon, have you?
'Darcy's property?' After all, that is what she is, am I right?
Her heart caught in her throat as the realisation came to her. He wanted her-perhaps not loved her, but he wanted her. And though Wickham had probably been simply taunting him, there had to be some truth to it, or Darcy would not have become so furious. And was he incensed...
She had turned in anger when she heard Wickham's insulting words, but the sight that had greeted her shocked her to the core. Darcy had put a hand around Wickham's neck and slammed him into the wall. Elizabeth had flown forwards immediately upon the realisation that Darcy wasn't going to let go. She had pulled on his arm, begging him to let go. And when he finally did, she had been so relieved. Not for Wickham, but for Darcy.
When she realised she was still holding his arm, she recoiled. Not out of disgust, but out of surprise. Her skin where she had laid it on his arm tingled with an odd warmth. She looked up at him, and their eyes met. She saw the self-condemnation in his eyes, the self-disgust. There were no traces of anger left in his gaze, just despair. A hopelessness that crept into his expression until he looked away. And as the pain in his eyes became even more evident, she reached out to him, but he was already moving away, out the door at which she was still staring.
What did she feel for this man who had just so viciously defended her character? What did she feel for this man who had looked at her in such abject apology? She didn't know. She didn't love him, of course. She couldn't.
But why? her heart argued. She had seen that his pride and haughtiness was only to those whom he did not know. He had a temper, to be sure, but he was also sweet and at times could be somewhat humorous. He was also quite handsome and so protective. So why didn't she love him? She didn't know. She simply did not know.
Chapter 14
Get your facts first and then you can
distort them as much as you wish.
~ Mark Twain
"My dear, the whole town is abuzz!" cried Mrs. Bennet to her husband.
Mr. Bennet looked up from his newspaper to regard her curiously. "What about, may I ask?"
"Why, about Mr. Darcy! My dear sister Phillips told me about it as soon as possible this morning. I am surprised none of my daughters told me first." With this she sent a glare at those five young women whom she blamed for not being the first with the news.
Mr. Bennet sighed impatiently, and Mrs. Bennet tittered. "It seems Mr. Darcy not only is proud, but believes that he can simply throw anyone he wishes around the room!"
"My dear, of what are you talking?"
Mrs. Bennet leaned forward and said in what was supposed to be a confidential whisper. "It seems Mr. Darcy became upset with an officer whose name is Mr. Wickham. Mr. Darcy picked up this officer and threw him against the wall, then began to punch him as if they were commoners at a fair!"
Elizabeth sighed. "That is not how it happened, Mama."
Mrs. Bennet glared at her, and her husband looked amused. "Then what did happen?" asked he.
"Mr. Wickham uttered some rather obscene and insulting things about me, maligning my reputation. Mr. Darcy simply took offence in my name and nearly choked Mr. Wickham. There were no punches thrown, Mama, and Mr. Wickham was fine after a few minutes."
The rest of the room was silent until Mr. Bennet asked, surprise evident in his tone, "Mr. Darcy defended you?"
Elizabeth looked at her hands sadly. "Yes, he did. But he has now been so maligned and I know he feels horrible about it-all for my sake."
"Well then, my dear Mrs. Bennet," her husband said, "you must be the one to set the record straight. Think of it this way: you are the one to know the true facts, and will be the first to tell them."
A proud and triumphant look came over Mrs. Bennet's face, and she stood up proudly. "I shall tell everyone!" She cried, and walked quickly out the door in order to spread the gossip, followed by Kitty and Lydia, who loved the excuse to visit Meryton and the officers.
Mr. Bennet looked at his daughter. "Why did he defend you, do you think?"
Elizabeth looked up in surprise, realising that someone was talking to her again. She had been thinking about the same thing that her father asked about, and she didn't even hesitate when she answered, not even needing to break her train of thought. "I don't know Papa. I had thought that perhaps it wasn't defense. I think that perhaps the reason Mr. Darcy became so upset was that Mr. Wickham's remarks were so close to what the actual truth is."
"What is the truth?"
"I don't know," Elizabeth said quietly, anguished confusion plain in her voice. "I thought I knew, but I now realise that I do not."
Jane offered a gentle question. "What were Mr. Wickham's remarks? If you do not feel comfortable saying..."
Elizabeth shook her head and smiled at Jane. They were quite vulgar, but if you wish to know..." she sighed and looked down at her hands as she repeated the words that Wickham had uttered. She heard her sister's gasp, and looked up to see her father regarding her shrewdly. "What are you thinking, Papa?"
Mr. Bennet only raised an eyebrow in response. "I can see why Mr. Darcy became so irate. Not only was your reputation maligned, but he was impugned as the cause. In my days, if someone had said that of me, I would have called them out immediately."
Elizabeth was silent. Jane put a tender hand on her arm. "I think it was very sweet that he rescued you, Lizzy," she said softly. "You know, I think he has a tender spot for you. So does Charles. He said that he and Lord Harding got in a big argument about it."
"Has anyone seen Mary and Mr. Collins?" Mr. Bennet asked quickly.
"I think they were in the garden," Jane replied.
"Wait, Jane," Elizabeth asked curiously. "What about Lucas and Mr. Darcy?"
"Perhaps we ought to go out and find them, shall we?" Mr. Bennet asked, beginning to rise from his chair.
"One moment, Papa. Now, Jane, what did Mr. Bingley say?"
Mr. Bennet sat down with a sigh. Elizabeth hardly noticed. Her eyes and ears were for Jane alone. "Charles said that this whole week they have been at odds. Over you, it seems. Mr. Darcy is extremely jealous, or so Charles thinks, of the attentions Lord Harding has been paying you. He says that Mr. Darcy even threatened Lord Harding to a duel if he found out that Lord Harding had taken advantage of you," Jane blushed at this last part.
Elizabeth sat back, stunned. But the best part was yet to come: "He also told me last night that a few days before, the two had been playing chess in the library, and there had been quite a violent fight. Charles' chessboard was broken because Mr. Darcy threw it on the floor."
"What was the fight about, Jane?" Elizabeth asked impatiently.
Jane's forehead wrinkled in thought. "That is what I didn't understand. Something about Lord Harding's queen, or 'lady,' as he had called it, and when Mr. Darcy captured it, he had accused Lord Harding of cheating, of allowing him to capture it on purpose. Charles' thinks all of it is due to another of Lord Harding's plots. You see, he likes to matchmake friends and play pranks on people."
A slow look of dawning realisation passed over Elizabeth's face. With it came self-annoyance and criticism. But that emotion was short. Next came the anger. Her face darkened with the rage of being cheated, of being betrayed, of being played for a fool. She stood up, her face set in determined lines.
"Where are you going, Lizzy?" Mr. Bennet asked, worry evident in his tone.
She turned to him with a false smile. "I am going to visit a friend. Would you like to come with?"
Mr. Darcy was packing his things when both Lucas and Bingley walked through the door without knocking. Darcy looked up in annoyance. "What do you want?"
"Well, that's particularly rude, don't you think so, Bings?" Lucas asked as he began unpacking Darcy's valise.
Darcy sputtered in indignation, and began re-packing everything Lucas was taking out. Bingley only nodded his head. "Quite impertinent, Darcy."
Darcy paused in his packing and looked up at his friend. "Perhaps this will be less rude: would you be quiet and leave me in peace?" Lucas had pulled out four things while Darcy was otherwise engaged, and Darcy simply took them and dumped them all into the valise. Lucas stopped and placed his hands on his hips. "Now, Darce, that was quite untidy of you. What would your valet say if he saw this?"
Darcy shot him a look of irritation, and put the last of the things he needed in his valise and closed it. He straightened and would have taken it with him out the door if Lucas had not taken it out of his hands, put it on the bed, and begun unpacking it again. Darcy stood stunned for a moment before his face darkened dramatically, and he shouted, "OUT! Out, I say. Take your filthy bodies and get out of here!"
Lucas sniffed himself. "I just took a bath last night. I couldn't smell already."
"Just out!" Darcy said, his scowl deepening. "I am leaving Hertfordshire, and you will have nothing to say on the matter. I am finished with it all!"
"Now, Darce," Lucas began.
"No!" Darcy said with a quick swipe of his hand, cutting off all objections. "I will not hear it. There is nothing left for me here. I shall simply take myself off, and leave these people to wallow in their own self-righteousness."
Lucas glanced at Bingley in blinking surprise, and Lucas lifted his hands in confusion. "Where did that come from, Darce?" he asked.
Darcy looked his friend in the eye. "Do you know what they are saying about me?" Lucas shook his head, and Darcy smiled bitterly. "I happened to be in the stables this morning and heard some grooms chattering about the gossip going around the village. It seems not only am I a proud, disagreeable man, but am a barbarian savage as well."
Lucas looked even more confused. "What? That doesn't make any sense."
"You wouldn't get it, would you, Lucas?" Darcy said with disdain. "They hate me. No one here likes me. I couldn't even buy their approval. I am disliked by everyone."
"That's not true, Darcy," Bingley offered. "We like you. And my Jane likes you. And I'm sure Elizabeth does, too."
Darcy snorted and picked up his valise again. He pushed past Lucas and went out the door. Lucas followed him, trying to make him see reason. "Now, Darcy, you can't just leave like this. That will only worsen their opinion of you. You'll be a coward in their eyes, not just a boor."
"What will I care of their opinion once I leave?" Darcy shouted over his shoulder. "I'm never coming back."
Lucas grimaced. "What about us, Darcy? Are you simply going to leave us here?"
"You may come if you wish," Darcy snapped.
"What about Elizabeth?" Lucas cried. "Won't you ever come to see her again?" Darcy didn't respond and began to descend the stairs. Lucas was running out of options. As Darcy reached the doorway, held open by a footman, he tried one more tack. "Elizabeth loves you!"
This halted Darcy in his tracks. He didn't move for a few seconds, then looked over his shoulder. His eyes were sad and hopeless. "I thought so, too, once," Darcy replied quietly. "But not anymore."
With not a word more, he left Lucas standing stock-still in the middle of the foyer. Lucas hardly even saw him leave, he was too stunned by the strong emotions in his friend's eyes and voice. How could he ever fix this?
Chapter 15
What makes us so bitter against people who outwit us is
that they think themselves cleverer than we are.
~ François Duc de La Rochefoucauld
"Good afternoon, Lucas." The voice was flinty hard, and the cold timbre in it made Lucas dread turning around to greet the lady who had, just the day before, spoken with him in friendly, confidential tones. But turn around he did because frankly, he didn't have another option.
"Good afternoon to you, also, Elizabeth," he replied breezily as he stepped forward to greet her. He took one look at her father, who stood uneasily by the door, shaking his head in forewarning, and felt a twinge of misgiving. But his smile didn't falter, and he offered them seats. Elizabeth declined.
Instead, she stood before the desk he had seated himself behind, and leaned upon it, catching his eye intently. "I wish to speak to you about Mr. Darcy." She glanced towards the doorway. "Is he here? For I would rather he was a part of this, as well."
Lucas shook his head slowly. "That would be impossible, Elizabeth. He has just left, not fifteen minutes past."
Elizabeth faltered, her lips falling into a frown, but she shrugged nonchalantly and smiled without humour. "Well then, I shall have to speak to you alone. What did you think you were doing?"
"When? Just now?" he asked with complete innocence. "Well, I had just come down to search for a book, and-"
"Not now, Lucas," Elizabeth said with slight exasperation. "I am talking about our plan-or ought I to say, your plan?"
Lucas looked bewildered. "My plan is your plan, Elizabeth. We are trying to change Darcy's opinion of you, am I right? That is what I have said from the beginning. Can you explain it any better?"
She stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment. "That's a lie! You couldn't have! I-I was under the impression..." She put two fingers on her temples and began to massage them slowly. She sighed gustily. "I had believed-no, you had led me to believe that we were changing his opinion from disdain to respect, no more."
Lucas wagged a finger at her. "Now, now. I believe it was you who said that. I, on the other hand, said that we were changing his opinion."
Elizabeth glared at him in frustration. "Yes but-but-you lied!"
"No I didn't."
"Yes, you did."
"No I didn't."
This continued on for a few minutes until Mr. Bennet finally stood up and slammed a fist on the desk to get their attention. "Enough! You two are acting like children. Now, this is quite a simple concept: Lord Harding here proposed a plan to you, Lizzy. You simply heard what you wished to, and therefore assumed what wasn't the exact truth. It is true that Harding is guilty of purposefully deceiving you, but you were the one that was gullible enough-"
"Papa!"
Lucas chuckled, and Elizabeth glared at him. Suddenly, she looked back at her father. "You were in on this, too!" she cried accusingly. "You were a part of this...conspiracy against me, weren't you?" She held up her hand when he began to speak. "No, don't even deny it. It would only make it worse for you to lie." She faced them both, her hands on her hips. "You can't even imagine how betrayed I feel. I had thought I could trust both of you. Apparently not." She turned and walked to the door.
"Where are you going, Elizabeth?" Lucas asked, rising from his chair.
"I am going home," she replied. When her father began to rise, she shook her head. "Don't bother," she said bitterly. "I'm walking. Anyway, I'm sure you two have more plans to discuss." And with not a further word, she slammed the door on him.
The two men stared at each other for a few moments. Lucas was the first to react. He bounded out from behind the desk and walked quickly to the door. He opened it and looked out. "I'm going after her," he said to Mr. Bennet. "She cannot walk all the way to Longbourn all alone."
"She's done it before," Mr. Bennet replied sadly. "When Jane was sick."
Lucas raised an eyebrow, but shook his head. "Not when she was this angry." He turned then and went quickly from the room, nearly running out the door and down the hall, where he ran into a maid coming around a corner. As she was profusely apologising and crying heartily, he was picking up the tray and cursing his luck, which only made her cry harder, thinking it was she at whom he was swearing.
Finally, the butler came, and Lucas abandoned his post and went running off again. He stopped on the drive, looking around, trying to spot Elizabeth. At last he saw a figure off in the distance, running across a field. He cursed and began to run after her. A second later, he began to actually think, and turned around, running in the direction of the stables. He yelled at the grooms, and they ran as fast as their legs could carry them to obey his shouted orders. His horse was ready in minutes-though to him it was like hours, and he mounted quickly and rode off.
He rode hard across the fields, jumping over any fences in his way, cutting straight for the figure he was slowly gaining on. At last he was only a few hundred metres away, and he called her name. He saw her stumble slightly, then stop. She turned to see him bearing down on her atop his black stallion. She stepped back in fear when he halted his horse not a metre from her. He leaned over and looked at her, his eyes blazing. "What did you think you were doing?"
"I was going home," she replied, tilting her head up in defiance.
"No, you are coming back to Netherfield so that we can talk about this like civilised people."
Her lower lip stuck out. "You cannot simply drag me back to Netherfield. I wish to go home, and home I shall go."
Lucas' lip twitched in a half-smile, and Elizabeth stepped back slightly, an unnerved expression on her face. He moved towards her on his horse, and when he was abreast of her, he leaned over and whispered, "You don't think I can make you return to Netherfield?"
She suddenly felt herself being lifted from the ground, his hands around her waist. She was startled to find herself sitting sideways in front of him on his horse, his hands around her, grasping the reins again. She put her hands on his chest and tried to push away from him, but to no avail. He even had the temerity to laugh at her efforts.
By the time they finally arrived at Netherfield, Elizabeth had given up. She sat passively in his arms and when he dismounted and held his arms up for her, she simply slid off the horse and allowed him to catch her and put her on her feet. She wasn't too passive, though, to send him a dark glare that would have made a lesser man quake in his boots.
He merely smiled in response, and, handing the reins to a groom that had come running, put a hand on her back and propelled her up the stairs and into the foyer, where her father was waiting. "Now," Lucas said, "shall we continue our discussion?"
The neighbourhood, after so readily changing their opinion that it was truly Wickham who was the wicked character in this whole plot and not Mr. Darcy, as was previously believed, was shocked and grieved to discover that the latter was gone from their midst (though hardly took notice of the disappearance of the former). They had been ready to hail him for a hero when reports of debts from high gambling and debauchery left in Wickham's wake began to surface, and the turn of their affection landed on Darcy, because of his brave and courageous action of defending the honour of one of their own who had no brothers to do the duty.
But now he was gone, taken from their midst, and they had no one else to venerate, so they decided instead to celebrate the nuptials of Mr. Collins and Miss Mary Bennet. Everyone in the town had seen it coming-they could tell it from the beginning. No one was surprised in the least, except perhaps over the fact that it was concluded so quickly. It was a five-day wonder, they all declared, and Miss Mary was the toast of the town for snatching up such an eligible bachelor.
The wedding was to occur in three-weeks' time, only a fortnight before Jane Bennet was to marry her fiancé. The two weddings were both to be held at Longbourn parish, and preparations were underway for both. The trousseaus had to be ordered and completed, the wedding gowns to be made. Mrs. Bennet insisted that there was no other place but London for this to be done. Mr. Bennet agreed reluctantly, and allowed her to travel to London with her two daughters. Lydia and Kitty begged to go, but he refused his consent. He had no intention of unleashing his two daughters on an unsuspecting London.
Elizabeth was another matter. He suggested that she go, but she only shook her head. She had this unreasonable fear that while in London, she would see Mr. Darcy. It was not as if she blamed him for what his friend and her father did, but she was still unsure as to her odd reaction to him, her irrational feelings for him. She wanted to see him again, but she refused to acknowledge that. Didn't want to delve into those kinds of feelings; they were too dangerous, too volatile. She would rather stay away from them, and him, for as long as possible.
But Jane was her undoing. Jane refused to go to London without her favourite sister and best friend. And Elizabeth could not hold out long against Jane's pleadings. So she agreed. She just hoped it wouldn't be the worse choice.