Designed for Each Other

by P. O. Dixon

  The thought of what he would do if given even the slightest bit of encouragement excited every fiber of his being, and he knew that if he did not address his aching predicament right then and there, he might explode.

  He leaned forward a bit. “Lydia,” he said, his voice lowered as though he meant to awaken her and yet pretend he did not. She snorted, compelling Wickham to lean back into his seat, feigning innocence in his scheme to arouse her.

  It would not do, for still she slept.

  “Lydia,” he repeated a time or two again.

  Young Lydia opened her eyes and not a moment too soon.

  “Lydia, my dearest, I am glad you are awake. Did you enjoy your nap? Pray come and sit next to me. I find I am quite desperately in need of you.”

  Chapter 26

  Supposed Happiness

  Lydia would always be the wild, untamed person she was reared to be. The rationale behind allowing her to go to Brighton was mainly for some semblance of peace at Longbourn. Now that she had returned any semblance of peace was once again impossible.

  Of course, Lydia’s propensity to make herself the center of the world had been all the members of the Bennet family’s constant companion for nearly sixteen years. The added disruption of a husband and all the lingering ill-will that his behavior had engendered among the Bennet family members was something else altogether.

  Mr. Bennet had been cautiously recommended not to sanction the newlyweds’ shameful behavior by allowing them to step foot inside Longbourn ever again. Even Mr. Collins had weighed in on how his cousin ought to feel and how he ought to act in view of such evidence of low moral standards, in strongly stated words to the following effect: “Let me then advise you, dear sir, to console yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy child from your affection for ever and leave her to reap the fruits of her own heinous offense.”

  Mr. Bennet would not hear of it, largely because his wife would never stand for it. Thus, the Bennets endured as best they could: some elated over Lydia’s newfound and much deserved felicity—namely Mrs. Bennet and Kitty. Others decided to make the most of a bad situation—namely Mr. Bennet, Jane, and even Mary. And then there was Elizabeth who feigned indifference, but deep down inside she was boiling over with deep resentment, disgust, and disdain, for the Wickhams had cost her more than either of them would ever know. Still, she suffered through the hours, the days and what seemed like weeks, determined to stay so far away from the happy couple as family obligations and proper decorum allowed.

  Elizabeth recalled with disappointment the moment she first made the gentleman’s acquaintance and how she thought he was exactly what a gentleman ought to be, having been endowed with all the best parts of beauty, a pleasing and amiable nature, and such happy manners that anyone would have to be a fool not to like him.

  Elizabeth scoffed. My, how the tide has turned.

  * * *

  Time passed, as it generally did, and the days of the Wickhams in their midst were nearing an end. Elizabeth sat alone in the little copse which by now had become a favorite escape from the happy couple, as well as a place to dwell at length on how her life might have been had everything not fallen so abruptly apart.

  Her sister’s supposed happiness in marriage had been the means of denying Elizabeth her own felicity. Her only solace was remembering what she had in the past and imagining what she might have had in the future. Time alone afforded her such a luxury, and she relished it.

  Having been so intimately involved with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth was sure she would never forget what it was like to be making love with him. The gentle touch of his hand, the excitement of their first kiss and then the next until such instances were too numerous to count, and his manner of making her feel as though she were the only woman in the world. She was equally sure she never wished to forget a single moment of their time together: the good times and even the bad times.

  A short while later, Elizabeth was roused from her seat, and thus her reflections, by someone’s approach. Before she could strike into another path, she was overtaken by the last man she wished to see: George Wickham.

  “I am afraid I have interrupted your solitary ramble,” said he, as he joined her.

  “You certainly have,” she replied, half smiling, half grimacing, but only on the inside. How I wish he would just go away—far, far away. This particular thought she dared not utter aloud. Until that point, there had existed a healthy measure of cool civility between them, at least on Elizabeth’s part. Why throw away all her hard work?

  Soon enough he will be gone far, far away. Indeed, those exact words had become her favorite companions of late.

  “Are the others coming out?” Elizabeth inquired. Pray they are, for I have no desire to be alone with you.

  “I do not think they are. I hope they are not, for I have longed for the chance to be alone with you like this—just the two of us. You and me—all alone, engaged in the most stimulating intercourse.”

  Again, she grimaced deep down inside. There was a time when she might have been flattered hearing Wickham utter such words—words that now sounded utterly sickening to her ears.

  She made no reply which he, no doubt, perceived as encouragement to continue his speech. “Indeed. I have been meaning to ask you about your recent time away from Longbourn. Did you enjoy a pleasant visit with Mrs. Collins?”

  “Exceedingly so. Thank you for asking, sir.” Now go away.

  By now he was standing within inches from her—far too close for her comfort.

  What part of go away do you fail to understand? Elizabeth wanted to ask him, and she would have had she uttered her previous edict out loud. Instead, she sped up her pace, thinking she might escape him.

  She did not. With long strides, soon enough he was right back by her side. “I imagine it was. I understand you stayed longer than you originally intended. I understand Darcy was nearby in Kent, and he happened to extend his visit as well.”

  “I believe he did. Of course, he has the means to do whatever he wishes, whenever he wishes.”

  “That he does. Did he happen to mention anything about me?”

  “Why would he?”

  “It is not uncommon for two people to discuss mutual acquaintances.”

  “I suppose you are correct. I would say that Mr. Darcy and I discussed any number of things on any number of occasions. You will pardon me if I do not elaborate further. It is not as though Mr. Darcy is one of your favorites. I daresay you harbor a strong dislike for him. Am I right?”

  “Any resentment I may or may not suffer toward my former friend is entirely of his own doing. You will recall my telling you how he denied me the living that ought to have been mine. And then there is the matter of his haughty aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh and even his sister Miss Darcy. All of them hate me, and I can only attribute it to the fact that they resented me. You will recall my telling you that old Mr. Darcy was my godfather. He loved me better than he loved all of them, and they simply could not abide it.”

  Her patience nearing its end, Elizabeth said, “Indeed, I remember. I remember it all too well, but if it is all the same to you, sir, I would much rather not speak of Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy, the de Bourghs, of Kent, of Kymptom and the living that was meant to be yours. What I know now and did not consider in the past is there are two sides to every story.”

  As though taken aback by her abruptness, Wickham said, “It is painfully evident to me that your attitude toward my former friend has undergone quite a drastic change in his favor since you and I were last together. One can only wonder how such a transformation occurred.”

  “Having spent so much time in Mr. Darcy’s company in Kent and having gotten to know him better, how can I help but reappraise my former opinion of his character?”

  “Perhaps there is more to your improved opinion than you are willing to confide in me, which is a shame for you and I have always been such good friends.”

  “What exactly are you implying, Mr. Wickham?”
/>
  “Mr. Wickham?” he asked, feigning injury to his sensibilities. “Is such formality really necessary, especially between the two of us when we are all alone at times such as this? I would much rather you call me by my Christian name. And if I am allowed, I should much prefer to address you by your Christian name, Elizabeth. Whenever I think of you—think of us, I always have done so, and I always will.”

  She scoffed inside. Of course, we would not be alone at such a time as this had you not stalked me so relentlessly as you have and finally found the perfect opportunity to approach me. I most assuredly have gone out of my way to avoid you. All this she contemplated in silence.

  Looking at him pointedly, she said, “Sir, address me however you wish. As my sister’s husband and thereby my brother, I believe such a right is conferred onto you. However, I shall refer to you as Mr. Wickham. Again, Mr. Wickham, I ask you what precisely you are implying regarding my improved opinion of Mr. Darcy?”

  “Darcy is every bit a man of the world, for lack of a more apt description in mixed company. Perhaps he exposed you to something more than mere friendship during your time together in Kent. No doubt, your propensity to enjoy long solitary rambles afforded ample time for the two of you to be thrown in each other’s paths.”

  “I resent your insinuations, sir.”

  “I meant no disrespect, Elizabeth. Truly, I did not.”

  How she now hated the sound of her name coming from his lips. How could I have been so blind to this man’s true character?

  “I would be remiss if I did not point out that resentment is not quite the same as a denial. Being married to your sister and knowing what I know about her, it is not entirely unreasonable to suspect some semblance of the younger’s true nature in the eldest. All I am saying is any desires that cad Darcy may have awakened in you, I am more than willing and most ardently desirous of satiating. Just give me a sign.”

  “A sign!” Elizabeth exclaimed with energy. “A sign! How is this for a sign? You are the last man in the world capable of, as you say, satiating any desires I may or may not have. The last man!”

  “The last man?” he repeated, half smiling. “Then what you are saying is there is a chance?”

  “You—you, despicable man! I hate you.” Livid, she said, “Pray add my name to your long list of people who never wish to be bothered with you again.”

  She really did despise the gentleman, and she would not be satisfied until he fully comprehended the depth of her disdain. “How my sister tolerates you is none of my concern, and for her sake, I shall endeavor to forget what has transpired this afternoon. But hear me well when I say should you ever approach me again with such a vile and disgusting proposition, I shall ... I shall—”

  Elizabeth knew precisely what she wanted to say, but being a young lady, she held her tongue. “You really do not want to know what I will do to you, but just in case you are foolish enough to risk finding out, here is a hint. Being unfaithful to your wife shall be utterly beyond your capability.”

  Chapter 27

  Encouragement Enough

  In the days immediately following the Wickhams’ departure for New Castle, Elizabeth had the pleasure of receiving a more-welcomed guest: her intimate friend Charlotte. Amid all the turmoil of Lydia’s hasty marriage, Elizabeth had been remiss in her letter writing. Seeing Charlotte face to face was such a balm for her spirits.

  “Dearest Eliza, I hope I do not presume too much in thinking that your Mr. Darcy will soon join you here in Hertfordshire.”

  “Charlotte, I know you too well to suppose you would ever harm me intentionally, and thus I find myself at a complete loss as to how to understand why you would say such a thing.”

  “I do not understand. When last you and I were together, you and Mr. Darcy were very happily engaged to be married. Has something happened?”

  “I would say so.”

  Her expression aghast, Charlotte cried, “What has happened?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “My sister Lydia is what happened. Owing to her recklessness, her foolishness, her failure to consider anything beyond her own supposed happiness, my family’s reputation is in shatters. I would be a fool to expect Mr. Darcy to honor his offer of marriage now, especially now that my sister is married to his worst enemy, George Wickham. In what world would he ever suffer the likes of such a vile man as his brother?”

  “I fear I do not understand. It is because of Mr. Darcy that your sister and Mr. Wickham are married—rather it is because of Mr. Darcy’s actions.”

  “His actions. Pray what are you saying, Charlotte? What did Mr. Darcy do?”

  “Do you mean to say you do not know? It is my understanding that the Wickhams stayed at Longbourn at least a fortnight before going away to New Castle. Knowing Lydia as I do, I am amazed she did not tell you everything.”

  “Tell me what, Charlotte? I implore you, do not keep me in suspense? What did Mr. Darcy do? Moreover, what does it have to do with the Wickhams?”

  “The better question, I suppose, is what Mr. Darcy did not do. Oh, my dearest Eliza, how could you not know? Has something happened between the two of you that the gentleman did not feel it appropriate to tell you all this himself? Of course, knowing Mr. Darcy’s nature, it is not surprising that he might want his part in Lydia’s recovery to be kept a secret. I have little doubt he did it all for you, but why he chose to keep it a secret from you is beyond me.

  “But as you no doubt have been kept in the dark about all the particulars, I shall enlighten you.”

  “Yes—tell me all I need to know.”

  “Your Mr. Darcy is the one who discovered Lydia. She was living in sin with Mr. Wickham in the worst part of London. He is the one responsible for her safe delivery into the care of your relations in Cheapside: Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.”

  Having been spared those particular details by none other than the two parties Charlotte cited, Elizabeth knew not how to think or how to feel, and thus she said nothing. This was encouragement enough for Charlotte to continue.

  “Indeed, Mr. Darcy is the one who paid all of Wickham’s debts, thereby forcing the gentleman to marry Lydia. He even paid for Wickham’s commission in New Castle.”

  “Heavens, the entirety of Mr. Darcy’s efforts must have cost him a fortune.”

  “At least ten thousand pounds,” Charlotte replied, nodding. “Wickham would be a fool to have settled for anything less.”

  “Pray how did you learn of all this?” Elizabeth suspected she knew the answer to her question, but she needed confirmation from her friend.

  “Why, Lady Catherine, of course. The grand lady invited us to Rosings under the guise of having tea. Yet, from almost the moment we sat down in the parlor until it was finally time for us to take our leave, all she could talk—rather complain—about was her nephew’s foolish sacrifice.”

  In her best imitation of her ladyship, which she had honed during Elizabeth’s visit, Charlotte said, “How is such a travesty to be borne? My nephew, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the brother of the vile George Wickham—the son of his own beloved father’s steward.

  “Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted? It is a blessing that my sister Lady Anne did not live to bear witness to any of this.”

  Elizabeth would have laughed if it were not for the fact that her own sentiments were not entirely different from Lady Catherine’s. She too felt that as a result of the Wickhams’ marriage, Mr. Darcy was lost to her forever. Not wishing to dwell on her other reasons for fearing Mr. Darcy was lost to her, Elizabeth said, “I can only wonder how her ladyship became so knowledgeable about Mr. Darcy’s private affairs. I cannot imagine him confiding in her, given the strain on their relationship because of his proposal to me instead of her daughter.”

  “I am sure her ladyship has a host of cohorts to keep her abreast of all matters pertaining to her family. What I am wondering is why this is the first you have heard about Mr. Darcy’s private affairs.”

  Charlotte posed a valid question and one whic
h Elizabeth was quite ill-prepared to answer. Besides, she had questions of her own, starting from the beginning of the entire sequence of events. By the time the others joined Charlotte and her in the drawing room for tea, Elizabeth’s mind was thoroughly engaged in concocting possibilities as well as probabilities to explain Mr. Darcy’s purposes.

  Elizabeth could have no reason to doubt her friend’s account of how Mr. Darcy had been the one who saved Lydia, but with it being so wholly contradictory to what the Bennets had been taught to believe by her own relations, she needed answers.

  Who better to answer my lingering questions than my aunt Mrs. Gardiner? Thus resolved, as soon as her guest was gone, Elizabeth promptly composed the inquisitive letter.

  On the day she was due to return to Kent, Charlotte arose particularly early in the morning and set out on the path from her father’s home, Lucas Lodge, to the neighboring village of Longbourn. She had more to say to her friend than their conversation in the company of all the Bennet family members allowed. She was not surprised to espy her friend walking alone in her direction.

  When the two ladies were face to face and all the usual civilities were exchanged, Charlotte said, “I can tell by your family’s complete silence on the matter of your engagement to Mr. Darcy that you have yet to tell them about what transpired between the two of you while you were in Kent.”

  “You are correct, as always. Allow me to thank you again and again for going along with the scheme and saying nothing to your family as well. I suppose I also owe a debt of gratitude to Mr. Collins. Pray thank him on my behalf.”

  “Surely you know you may always count on me to honor your wishes, and as for Mr. Collins’s silence, I believe you have Lady Catherine to thank for that, for he would never willingly do or say anything that might garner her disapprobation.”