“Miss Bennet, have I offended you in some way? If so, please tell me how I might rectify the situation. I must have you as my friend, Miss Elizabeth, it is vital to my being, that I may count you as my friend.”
To someone less acquainted with the gentleman, they would have noticed no change in his tone or his manner. To a bystander, he seemed as he had always been, softly spoken and clear in his address. But Elizabeth had detected a hint of desperation in his voice, panic even. Then there was the way he had presented himself, jumping out on her from behind the tree, as if making sure she could not alter her direction to avoid him.
Also, his question made her wonder, why, with so many admirers eager for his company, including Mary King, Lydia, Kitty and Harriet Forster, was her friendship so important to him.
In a barely civil but hushed voice, Elizabeth said,
“You will forgive me if I speak plainly, sir? My sister is not yet sixteen, an age of many transitions. She is neither a child nor a woman, still growing and learning how to act in a world full of expectations and pitfalls. Lydia is easily influenced by others, often by people who are older than she and who should know better. Too often, she does not foresee the consequences her action might bring about.”
The look of mortification on Wickham’s face did not fool Elizabeth. It seemed…rehearsed.
“My intentions toward Miss Lydia, and indeed any gentlewomen I have met since I joined the militia, is only one of friendship. I am mortified you would think otherwise, Miss Bennet,” Wickham said, in a tone of outraged indignation.
Wishing to bring their encounter to a close, Elizabeth tried to excuse herself.
“I am not prepared to discuss my sisters’ probity in the open street, sir. If you will excuse me…”
Wickham was unwilling to let Elizabeth go until he had her firm undertaking that they could remain friends.
Sidestepping to block her path again, he said,
“But you do, believe me, Miss Elizabeth, when I say that my intention is for us to just remain friends?” he paused, before adding, “with you and all your sisters?”
But Mr Wickham had miscalculated the strength of Elizabeth’s mettle. She would not be drawn into any further discussion on the matter
“If you are a gentleman, Mr Wickham, and your intentions are indeed what you say they are, you will step aside and let me pass.” Elizabeth moved to walk past him.
Wickham persisted,
“We are friends then?” and now Wickham made his biggest mistake. Overestimating the strength of his appeal, as Elizabeth drew level with him, Wickham shot out his hand and grabbed her by the elbow.
“I ask again, Miss Elizabeth, we are friends then…?”
He did not see the hand that struck his face, or the hand that rose him up from the ground and threw him several feet away from Elizabeth, but he heard the voice. The unmistakable voice, filled with contempt, loathing, and rage, of Fitzwilliam Darcy.
“If you ever, touch Elizabeth again, it will not be only your pride I will wound, Wickham. I have warned you in the past to stay away from what is mine.”
Darcy stood over the cowering form of his nemesis, quaking with rage. It took all his willpower not to give Wickham the thrashing he so richly deserved, here in the open street with dozens of onlookers.
Wickham, he was sure, had followed him and Bingley to Hertfordshire, with the sole intention of executing a plan to further embarrass and extort money from him, or even his friend Charles. Elizabeth, it appeared, had been Wickham’s next victim.
Darcy returned to Elizabeth’s side and putting a protective hand on her waist, asked,
“Did he hurt you, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth felt a myriad of emotions. Relief at having been saved from the distasteful encounter. Shock at the violent reaction of her betrothed. Awe at the prowess Mr Darcy had exhibited. Horror and embarrassment at being caught up in such a spectacle. Yet it was the feeling of excitement, as Mr Darcy came to her rescue, which remained with her the longest.
Quietly, but a little breathlessly, she said,
“I am not injured, sir,”
Darcy looked at her upturned face and felt the urge to kiss her. His brave and defiant, Elizabeth. Would she ever cease to amaze and delight him?
With no plans to visit Elizabeth until tomorrow, Darcy had decided to ride into Meryton and purchase a small gift for her. Knowing of her love of reading, he decided on a book.
The bookshop in Meryton was deceptively large. With a small front entrance, half-hidden by a tree, it gave the appearance of a small, one room establishment from the outside. But once through the portal, the interior stretched back to fill the entire ground floor of the property.
The proprietor, a bachelor in his late sixties, lived only on the upper floor.
Having selected the book, Lyrical Ballads, by Wordsworth, Darcy then walked to the window to inspect the condition of his choice. It was then he saw Elizabeth talking to Wickham. Not a fortnight previously had he been witnessed to another encounter such as this, only then Elizabeth had been laughing with Wickham. Two things had changed. Elizabeth appeared distressed by the encounter, and secondly, now she was his.
Mesmerised by the intensity of Darcy stare, Elizabeth could not pull her gaze away. Only the calling of her name broke the spell.
“Elizabeth, are you well? Are you injured at all?” asked Charlotte. “I cannot believe Mr Wickham accosted you in such a fashion, and in the street.”
A violent flush stained Elizabeth’s cheeks as she turned to her dear friend and replied,
“I am a little shaken Charlotte. I think I must sit down.”
Pushing through the large crowd that had gathered, came Mrs Phillips, Elizabeth’s aunt, who immediately took charge of the situation. Prising Mr Darcy’s hand from Elizabeth’s waist, she placed a guiding arm around her shoulder and steered her towards her home.
Once inside, Mrs Philips said,
“Come, Lizzy, and sit by the warm fire will see you right as rain in no time, and Cilla will bring us a nice cup of sweet tea.”
Scanning the throng of faces, Mrs Philips called to Charlotte.
“Charlotte, has someone sent for the constable? Mr Wickham cannot be allowed to assault a gentlewoman in broad daylight and go unpunished.”
Elizabeth just had time to cast a glance over her shoulder. Her eyes locking onto the receding figure of Mr Darcy, now standing alone, as she was bustled off by her family, friends, and well-wishers.
Darcy gave an almost imperceptible nod, and then turned on his heels and went back into the shop to pay for the book. Though, if he had his way, he would have swept Elizabeth into his arms, holding her tight, while promising to never let Wickham, or any man, harm her again. However, he was sure Elizabeth would have been just as mortified had he done that, as Wickham accosting her.
Fearing the severity of the situation was becoming exaggerated, Elizabeth repeatedly tried to explain that Mr Wickham had only held onto her elbow for the briefest of moments, and only to gain her attention, but no-one would listen. Charlotte and Mrs Phillips were adamant he had made a grab for her with intentions of who knew what, and the constable was sent for.
In all the chaos, Lydia had been totally forgotten. As she emerged from the modiste shop, with a length of ribbon in her reticule that her friend Harriet had purchased for her, she headed for the bookstore to meet Elizabeth.
Using the heel of his boot, Wickham loosened some of the earth from the hard ground, then, scooping up a handful of the black soil, he proceeded to rub it over his face and uniform.
Skulking from view in the shadows of the alley next to Mr Jeremiah’s bookstore, he watched and waited for Lydia Bennet.
Chapter Ten
After what seemed like the tenth time of explaining, the constable agreed, if Miss Bennet were quite sure that no assault had taken place, he would issue Mr Wickham with nothing more than a stern warning, this time. Though in truth, having received a number of complaints from the local
population about that very gentleman, he would have relished a chance to clap him in irons, if only for one night. The constable had discovered just what a wily character Mr Wickham was, always staying just within the boundaries of the law.
Having done all that he could at Mrs Phillips’, the constable then went in search of Mr Wickham.
It was about this time that Lydia was remembered. Charlotte, speaking in a hushed tone so as not to alarm Elizabeth, asked Mrs Phillips,
“Has someone been despatched to bring Lydia here from Miss Pearls? She should accompany Elizabeth home, in case Lizzy has a delayed fit of the vapours. I am surprised she is not here already?”
Elizabeth was mortified to think she had completely forgotten all about her young sister, and a wave of guilt washed over her.
It was only a few minutes after Charlotte's enquiry that Lydia arrived at her Aunt Phillips house.
Watching as everyone fussed over her sister, Lydia stood on the periphery of the room, with a sour pout curling her lips downwards.
However, when her aunt deemed Elizabeth recovered enough to travel home, Lydia refused point blank to ride in the carriage with her. Only when her Aunt Phillips threatened to exclude her from her next supper party, where all her favourite officers would be in attendance, did she capitulate and climb in next to Elizabeth.
As the borrowed conveyance rumbled along the half frozen, half mud track back towards Longbourn, Lydia finally found her tongue.
“I know what you did, Elizabeth,” Lydia said, her voice loaded with venom.
“I did nothing, Lydia. It was Mr Wickham who stopped me. If he had let me pass instead of trying to press his point with me, none of this would have happened. Besides, I thought you were in the shop with Mrs Forster. How can you know what occurred?” Elizabeth asked.
“Wickham told me. And what that brute did to him.”
Exasperated by Lydia’s theatrics, Elizabeth said,
“And whom might that be, Lydia?”
“Mr Darcy, of course. His brutish behaviour has ruined poor Wickham’s uniform, and his eye is already swelling where Mr Darcy struck him. But I am glad, for now, everyone will see him for what he truly is, Lizzy, a bully and a liar. You might be blinded by his wealth and position now, Lizzy, but you just wait. Wickham said he wanted you to know you had a friend in him, for when Mr Darcy shows his true colours, you will need all the friends you can get. No wonder he had reached eight and twenty with no wife. No woman will have him!”
“Lydia! That is quite enough. Remember, one day, when Papa is no longer here, it will be Mr Darcy who will provide for us and protect us, including you, Lydia Bennet, who is the most undeserving of sisters. Unless of course, you marry before papa’s demise.”
Elizabeth waited, expecting Lydia to refute her claim, but she did not. Instead, a sly smile spread across her face as she turned to look out the carriage window. This action concerned Elizabeth more so than if Lydia had continued to shout at her and malign Mr Darcy.
“Lydia?” Elizabeth said, in a questioning tone.
But they had completed the short journey back to Longbourn, and before Elizabeth could question her further, Lydia jumped down the moment the vehicle stopped and ran into the house.
Elizabeth watched as her sibling disappeared inside the house, calling for Kitty as she went.
Elizabeth was torn. Should she tell her parents now what had occurred in town today, or wait until Mr Darcy arrived tomorrow and let him explain?
In the end, Elizabeth decided she would consult with Jane before taking any action.
Sitting on her bed, with Jane at her side, Elizabeth recalled the incident in its entirety, even her conversation with Lydia on their journey home.
Jane pondered for a moment, then said,
“Speak with, Mr Darcy first, Lizzy.”
“Why do you say that, Jane?”
“Well,” Jane paused, “There is a possibility that it will show Mr Darcy in an unfavourable light. You mentioned he struck Mr Wickham first, did you not?”
Elizabeth mulled over Jane’s words for a moment.
“Yes… though he only sought to rescue me from Mr Wickham’s unwelcome attention. And Jane, Mr Darcy only hit Mr Wickham once, regardless of what Mr Wickham told Lydia. It is just one more reason for Mamma to voice her dislike of Mr Darcy. Oh, Jane, what if I relay my fears to Papa and then nothing happens, or worse, I say nothing and something awful happens.”
“Come, do not fret about mamma, Lizzy. Her dislike of Mr Darcy disappeared the moment you two became engaged.”
Confused and perplexed, Elizabeth decided on the former line of action and duly went down to speak to her papa.
Tapping twice on the door, Elizabeth then waited for her father to bid her enter.
“Come in, Lizzy,”
Pushing the door open, Elizabeth was surprised to see Mr Darcy already standing next to her father.
“Mr Darcy!” she exclaimed. “Forgive me; I was not aware you had returned to Longbourn.”
Darcy looked at Mr Bennet.
“Yes, well, you two get along now. Fear not, Darcy, I will send a note now and get thing moving on that other matter,” said Mr Bennet in an unusually determined tone.
Once the door was closed behind them, Darcy said,
“Is there somewhere we may speak privately, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth led the way to the music room. After checking that Mary was not occupying it, she said,
“We will not be disturbed in here.”
Elizabeth sat on the piano stall, and turning to find another seat, Darcy retrieved a particularly stylish chair that was hiding behind the door.
Sitting to face her, he said,
“I know you were not expecting me until tomorrow, Elizabeth, but my conscience would not let me stay away. I felt your father had the right to know what happened in Meryton this afternoon. As a gentleman, I could do no other than give him the opportunity to rescind his consent.”
Elizabeth gasped. Without breathing a word of his intention, Mr Darcy had gone to her papa and offered to break their engagement. Elizabeth was appalled and surprisingly…hurt by his actions.
“Oh, fear not, my love. He is still prepared to give us his blessing, but it was my duty, to be honest with him.”
Elizabeth's spine stiffened, and her eyes flashed.
Before she thought it through, she had said,
“And Mr Darcy, do you afford me the same courtesy?”
Darcy looked at Elizabeth, first with raised brows, then with drawn brows. He had given no thought to Elizabeth changing her mind. Why should she even consider breaking their engagement when he had merely been protecting what was his?
“I don’t understand, Elizabeth? Why would offer you the same courtesy as your father?” he said with incredulity.
Elizabeth resisted the urge to tap her foot in frustration, but nevertheless, her proverbial hackles were up.
“Is it my father you intend to spend the rest of your life with, Mr Darcy, or me? Because listening to the statement you just made, I am no longer sure.”
Darcy was confused. If he had done or said something amiss, he was unaware of it, but Elizabeth was clearly upset about something.
“I fail to see why you are grieved, Elizabeth. Would you care to explain?”
Feeling the need to let off some steam, Elizabeth stood up and paced back and forth a few steps.
“Unless I am mistaken, Mr Darcy, it was I, Mr Wickham accosted this afternoon, and it was you who assaulted, Mr Wickham. My father was not involved in either incident, yet you ask him, rather than I, if he still gives his content to see us married?”
By now, Elizabeth’s bosom was heaving with disgruntled assertion.
Darcy stood in Elizabeth’s path, forcing her to stop her pacing. Taking hold of her hands, he gently pulled her closer to him.
“I was merely protecting what is mine, Elizabeth, you cannot reproach me for that? Would you rather I had not intervened?” then his mood and ex
pression visibly darkened. His grip on Elizabeth’s hands became more pronounced, as he said in a guttural tone, “Or perhaps is it because you preferred the company…the touch, of Mr Wickham, to that of your future husband?”
Elizabeth realised that as a mere woman, Mr Darcy did not see her as his equal, and so she was not, but he had hurt her feelings. Had he hurried over to Longbourn, expressing concern for her well-being, she might have been flattered, but he had not. So, in an unusual display of temper, she had insulted him, questioned his morals and yes, acted like a child. At this moment, Mr Darcy must think her more akin to Lydia that the Elizabeth he admired and loved. And to add insult to injury, Darcy had interpreted her speech as a declaration of her partiality for Wickham. But nothing could be further from the truth. If he hadn’t done so in the past, Mr Wickham had certainly revealed his true character today. Sighing, Elizabeth realised it was her duty to make amends and smooth Darcy’s ruffled feathers. She had no intention of breaking their engagement. She had accepted Mr Darcy Proposal, and there was no going back. Though, if Darcy could learn to consult with her, to trust her to be his ally, to give her a voice and ask her advice and opinion as her father did, then their future might run more smoothly than it was at present.
Full of remorse, Elizabeth was about to offer him an apology, when Darcy suddenly seized her by the shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“We are to be married, Elizabeth, you are to be my wife. I will not tolerate flirtations of any kind. If it’s a man’s lips you crave, then they are to be mine, and mine alone.” Darcy lowered his head and claimed her lips in a harsh and demanding kiss, covering her mouth with his own until she was gasping for air.
As quickly as he had seized her, so he thrust her away, leaving Elizabeth momentarily disorientated. His kiss had been so harsh, that Elizabeth raised a shaking hand to her bruised and swollen lips.
“There is no damage, Elizabeth. You are not the first woman I have kissed,” Darcy spat with contempt.
For a few moments, they stood silently together in the room, yet there was a chasm of misunderstanding between them.
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