Designed for Each Other

by P. O. Dixon

  “Indeed, it is a pleasure, Miss Elizabeth. It is almost as though it were only yesterday when we were last together at the ball. I must confess that I miss all my friends and Hertfordshire neighbors a great deal,” he replied, stealing a longing glance at Jane.

  “No doubt. It is rather uncommon for a man to let such a magnificent home and all but abandon it,” said Elizabeth, not entirely unaware that she sounded like her mother who was wont to pontificate on Mr. Bingley’s sudden leave-taking from Hertfordshire.

  Before the gentleman could fashion a response, Jane said, “Of course, you will recall Mr. Bingley proudly boasting that whatever he does is done in a hurry and should he resolve to quit Netherfield, he should probably be off in five minutes. Who among us should be surprised to learn he meant every word he said?”

  “Indeed, I do recall his expressing such a sentiment. I also recall being the one to repeat them to you. I rather suspected, as did you at the time, if I remember correctly, that he was merely speaking in jest.”

  What on earth is Jane about? Does she genuinely mean to chastise Mr. Bingley? Dare I tell her the reason for Mr. Bingley’s defection?

  Looking directly at Jane, Bingley said, “I confess I should never have left Hertfordshire when I did. I fear it is one of my greatest regrets.”

  Jane said nothing in response to what Elizabeth surmised was an apology.

  The colonel then said, “Come now, everyone. This is not the time for speaking of such weighty matters. We are all here now, are we not? Let us not spend a moment longer thinking and speaking of the past.”

  That is easy for you to say, Elizabeth silently considered. She nearly glared at the odd-numbered member of their party. Why are you even here? As it was not her intention to be rude to someone who meant something to her, she held her tongue.

  Still, her busy mind would not be so easily silenced. Surely the colonel knows that Mr. Bingley and my sister are intended for each other. He knows what lengths Mr. Darcy went to in keeping them apart, and now he is doing his best to carry his cousin’s purportedly relinquished torch.

  With that thought in mind, Elizabeth gave a sidelong look at Mr. Darcy—the one member of their party who had theretofore stayed silent. Has this been his plan right from the start? Did he go along with the scheme to reunite his friend and my sister solely to bring them both here and have the colonel prove his point that Jane’s attachment to Mr. Bingley is wanting and not nearly so strong as is Bingley’s attachment to her?

  Some thought as to what such a revelation would mean for the two of them was absolutely unavoidable. I do not know that I shall ever forgive him if that is indeed his intention.

  Darcy could feel the heat of Elizabeth’s stare. He immediately admonished himself for having paid so little attention to the debate among his walking companions.

  How can I when all I can think about is her? Her playful manner, her light and pleasing figure… the way her hair smells of fresh flowers. Indeed, whatever was being said by whoever was saying it meant nothing to him.

  How I wish it were only the two of us.

  By now, she was looking directly at him—expectantly. “Pardon, Miss Elizabeth?”

  Saying nothing to relieve his curiosity, she then looked away. What a stroke of luck that the path just up ahead allowed for only three. Darcy placed his fingers on the small of Elizabeth’s back, prompting her to direct her eyes to his.

  It was a stolen liberty, but one for which he suffered no regret. He did, however, remove his hand and offer his arm. She immediately, almost instinctively, accepted it. Encouraging a slower pace, he and Elizabeth fell into place behind Jane, Bingley, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, the former gentleman on Jane’s left and the latter on her right. Before very long, at Darcy’s contrivance, he and Elizabeth lagged some distance behind the others.

  He drew Elizabeth a bit closer to his side. “Now that we are alone, may I tell you how much I have missed you, Miss Elizabeth?”

  “Of course, you may.”

  “I have missed you—a great deal. I should like to believe you missed me as well.”

  “Pray tell me precisely what you wish for me to say, and it will be said, sir. I should hate to suspend any pleasure of yours,” Elizabeth said, thinking back to their dance at the Netherfield ball when he had spoken similar words to her.

  “I have a sense that you are upset with me, although I am at a loss to understand why that might be. When last we were together, I promised to do everything in my power to reunite your sister and my friend. Have I not upheld my end of the bargain?”

  “And I suppose you think I ought to be grateful that you—a man with the means of directing the affairs of others with hardly a care on your part—did what you said you would do.”

  “Some gratitude on your part would be a nice start—”

  “I am grateful, sir. Truly I am.”

  “Yet, you seem upset—upset with me. What have I done to garner your displeasure?”

  “It is not that I am upset with you so much as I am upset by this unfolding situation.”

  “Situation?”

  “Yes—Jane and Bingley are together, but they have hardly reunited. What chance does your friend have to express his feelings for my sister if your cousin is afoot?” She looked at him pointedly. “Forgive me if I am wrong, but I cannot help but think this is precisely what you had in mind all along when you invited Bingley to Kent, instead of simply telling him that Jane was in Cheapside.”

  Darcy could not argue that he had ulterior motives besides his friend’s felicity in inviting him to Kent. He could not imagine courting Elizabeth in a manner that he wished should she have returned to Hertfordshire, or worse still, had she stayed in Cheapside. He certainly did not intend to elaborate on his reasons to that effect, especially after his disastrous marriage proposal when he had cited her family as being uncouth and desperately wanting.

  Responding to Elizabeth’s piercing accusation, he said, “The colonel is his own man. I do not tell him to whom he can or cannot speak and where he should or should not go. He arranges his affairs to suit his own convenience.”

  “That is not what he told me.”

  “What, pray tell, did my cousin say in that regard?” Mr. Darcy asked, his voice infused with a hint of exasperation he did not intend.

  “He said he is here in Kent at your disposal.”

  Mr. Darcy shrugged. “Be that as it may, the material point is that my friend and your sister have the second chance you so eagerly sought. You and I have done our part in bringing it about. The rest is entirely up to the two of them.”

  Her disappointment in being admonished, she did not repress. Seeing this, Darcy ceased walking, prompting Elizabeth to do likewise. Heedless of their surroundings, he moved in front of Elizabeth. Taking both her hands in his, he said, “Did we not agree that, regardless of how things unfold between my friend and your sister, this would be our time to get to know each other?”

  She nodded.

  Smiling a little, Darcy raised her hands to his lips and brushed a soft kiss across her knuckles. “Excellent, because I fully intend to court you during this time—the right way, in a manner in which you deserve to be courted. Indeed, the way I should have done from the start.” He gazed deeply into her bewitching dark eyes. “Pray you will let me—let the two of us grow better acquainted with each other, unimpeded by the affairs of others. Do I ask too much?”

  Suddenly demure, she swallowed. She was silent.

  Darcy wanted nothing more than to kiss Elizabeth at that moment so that she would know and appreciate the depth of his sincerity. How keenly he felt the irony of his dilemma, for had he not made such a mess of his first proposal, he would be making love to her at that very moment.

  Soon. Elizabeth means everything to me and before too long, she, along with the rest of the world, will know it.

  “I shall take your silence as acquiescence. I promise you that you shall have no cause for regret.”

  Chapter 10

/>   Her Perturbed State

  A week after her arrival in Hunsford, Jane received a letter from her sister Mary with news of all the goings on in Hertfordshire since the last time she wrote. For the sake of economy, Mary spared herself the time and expense of a separate missive to Elizabeth, assured in the knowledge that whatever she said to her eldest sister must undoubtedly be shared with her next eldest sister and rightly so.

  Once alone with Elizabeth in Charlotte’s parlor, Jane sat next to her sister and began reading Mary’s letter aloud, hastening through the opening felicitations and all such formalities, Elizabeth’s interest was particularly piqued with the mentioning of a certain lieutenant’s name.

  Leaning in closer, she read aloud Mary’s words for herself.

  “Our sister Lydia is overjoyed, for Lieutenant Wickham is no longer in danger of marrying Mary King. She is gone down to her uncle at Liverpool, never to return, purportedly. Though I can hardly be concerned for the gentleman’s safety, I mention this mainly at Lydia’s behest, for she is quite determined that all of her sisters should rejoice over the occasion, particularly Lizzy.”

  Not at all pleased that her past opinion of George Wickham had been so favorable that her youngest sister would single her out in such a manner vexed Elizabeth more than a little. Jane must have noticed her perturbed state.

  “Lizzy?” Jane questioned. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes—yes, of course.”

  “I cannot help noticing you do not seem as relieved by Mary’s news as Lydia supposed you would be.”

  “Trust me, Jane. I am relieved. More than you know.”

  Relieved Mary King is safe from a connection imprudent as to fortune, she thought but did not say. The remembrance that she had even defended Wickham’s blatantly mercenary pursuit of that young lady after she inherited a fortune of ten thousand pounds would not be repressed.

  “Pray, my dear aunt,” Elizabeth had argued when speaking with Mrs. Gardiner at Christmas, “what is the difference in matrimonial affairs between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where does discretion end and avarice begin?” She shuddered a little deep down inside. Was there nothing I would not do or say at the time to justify my belief in Mr. Wickham’s supposed goodness?

  I have always fancied myself an excellent studier of people’s character, and yet I willfully allowed myself to be deceived by a man of Wickham’s vile nature.

  “My hope is there is no strong attachment on either side,” said Jane.

  Not wishing to spend another second feigning sympathy for Wickham, Elizabeth asked, “Let us return our attention to our sister’s letter.”

  Jane continued reading aloud.

  In consequence of being the only plain one in the Bennet family, Mary worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments and never was her impatience to display her purposely honed prowess more evident than in her propensity to craft long letters. Half listening, half wool-gathering, as Jane commenced reading the third page, Elizabeth’s attention was drawn once again on hearing a topic having to do with their youngest sister.

  “Pardon, Jane? What did Mary say about Lydia?”

  Looking up from the missive, Jane said, “She said the militia will encamp near Brighton, and Colonel Forster’s wife has invited Lydia to join them. She regrets to add that Lydia has cajoled our mother and father into agreeing to the scheme.” Jane paused a moment in reflection. “I can easily fathom the reason Kitty would object, for apparently she is not invited, but I am not certain why Mary would be concerned one way or the other. Imagine how peaceful Longbourn will be in Lydia’s absence.”

  Jane’s saying that, as uncharacteristic of her inherent nature as it was, matched Elizabeth’s sentiments exactly, for surely there would be no peace in Longbourn if Lydia were denied such a pleasing prospect. Although she was not yet sixteen and possessed an unguarded mixture of untamed, unabashed, wild, and noisy fearlessness about her, she was brought out into society all the same.

  “I know Mary has a tendency to be overly zealous where matters of a young lady’s strict adherence to proper decorum and etiquette are concerned, but in this particular case I have to agree that her misgivings are well-founded.”

  “In what respect?”

  “Oh, Jane, you know Lydia’s temperament.” Elizabeth went on to espouse all the improprieties of Lydia’s general behavior, the little advantage she could derive from the friendship of such a woman as Mrs. Forster, and the probability of her being yet more imprudent with such a companion at Brighton, where the temptations must be greater than at home.

  “True, Mrs. Forster may not be the ideal companion for Lydia, but we must not discount the tremendous advantages derived from her husband’s stewardship. He is the head of the regiment, after all, which must certainly mean a great deal. Let us not forget that Mr. Wickham will be in Brighton as well. He has been a trusted friend of our family. No doubt he can be relied upon to help keep Lydia away from any real harm.”

  “Mr. Wickham’s presence is what worries me most.”

  “How can you say such a thing, Lizzy? Has Mr. Wickham not always been your favorite? Who among our circle of acquaintances has been a stauncher defender of the gentleman’s character?”

  “Jane,” Elizabeth cried, “I am afraid I have been such a fool where Wickham is concerned.”

  “How so?”

  “I totally misjudged him and worse than that, I did so at Mr. Darcy’s expense. I am so ashamed of my behavior where the two of them are concerned, for I am now convinced that one of them possesses nothing but goodness and the other nothing but indecency.”

  “Mr. Wickham is the latter, no doubt. But what happened to cause you to reconsider your firmly held contentions? Does it have to do with Mr. Darcy’s being here in Kent and having delayed his return to town time and again? Does it have to do with all the time you two spend in each other’s company?”

  Elizabeth took her sister by the hand and cradled it in hers. “Jane, I fear I have been terribly remiss when it comes to sharing my deepest secrets about Mr. Darcy.”

  “Lizzy?” Jane began. “Has something happened between the two of you?” Half smiling, she asked, “Are the two of you engaged?”

  “No!” Lizzy quickly responded. “No, we are not—not really.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “We are not engaged; however, he did offer his hand to me in marriage.”

  “You rejected the hand of a man like Mr. Darcy? How could you do such a thing? Wait—did your rejecting Mr. Darcy have anything to do with Mr. Wickham?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “There was that as well as a litany of other reasons which I deemed important at the time, but I do not wish to speak of any of that at the moment. I feel I do need to share with you what Mr. Darcy told me about Wickham and why I fear he is the worst person in the world whom either of us should rely on to protect our sister.”

  “I am listening.”

  “Before I confide in you what Mr. Darcy told me, I must have your promise the secret goes no further than the two of us. That is to say that Charlotte knows—at least she knows part of it. However, I know I can rely on her discretion.”

  “And you may rely on mine as well.”

  Elizabeth smiled knowingly. Of course she could rely upon her sister to keep such a delicate matter to herself, but such reassurance must be sought. “No doubt you will recall to what lengths Wickham went through to poison the minds of whoever would listen to him against Mr. Darcy, particularly after the latter left Hertfordshire.”

  Jane nodded, encouraging Elizabeth to continue.

  “Everything he said was a lie. Well, almost everything. The part about him being the late Mr. Darcy’s godson was true, but most everything beyond that was pure fabrication.”

  “But what could have been his purpose, especially once Mr. Darcy had gone away?”

  “He likely did so to garner sympathy. It is no secret that Mr. Darcy had left an unflattering impression of himself among all our acquaintances.”<
br />
  Here, Elizabeth silently reprimanded herself for her own part in sketching such an unfavorable view of Mr. Darcy’s character.

  Having acknowledged her mistake to herself, she continued her speech. “Wickham liked to boast that Mr. Darcy hated him—that he was jealous of him. I now realize that Wickham was jealous of Mr. Darcy. He hated him, and as a consequence of his deep-seated resentments, he fancied himself the aggrieved victim, and he fabricated his own version of their history to mollify himself.”

  “I am astounded,” Jane cried. “How could he have deceived so many into believing in his goodness? His amiability? His respectability?”

  “I fear there is nothing amiable, nor respectable about him, for he has proven himself to be more than a consummate liar, he is also a duplicitous opportunist.”

  “What else did he do?”

  “He attempted on more than one occasion to dupe Mr. Darcy into giving him large sums of money after Mr. Darcy had already compensated him most generously instead of granting the living in Kympton, which Wickham declined stating that he had no wish to take orders. When all subsequent attempts to get more money failed, Wickham tried to elope with young Miss Darcy in order to control her dowry of thirty thousand pounds. When Mr. Darcy arrived in Ramsgate in time to thwart the elopement by making it clear to Wickham that he would never receive a single shilling of Miss Darcy’s dowry, he absconded leaving the young lady devastated and broken-hearted.”

  “Poor Miss Darcy. No young lady should have to endure such callous treatment—such heartbreak.”

  “Indeed. So, you understand my change in sentiments toward Wickham.”

  “I do. However, as heartbreaking as Miss Darcy’s treatment at Wickham’s hand was, surely we can have no such fear in that regard where Lydia is concerned.”

  Her brow arched, Elizabeth said, “How so?”

  “It is simple. In the cases of both Mary King and Miss Darcy, Mr. Wickham proved himself to be entirely mercenary. With Lydia’s fortune being practically nonexistent, she must certainly be completely safe in that regard.”