The Impulse of the Moment

by Jann Rowland

  “As he informed us himself when we were last in his company,” said Lady Anne. “This may be nothing more than Mr. Wickham’s usual practice of flattery for gain. But I want you to take care with him, Georgiana. He lusts after riches and would undoubtedly find your dowry an irresistible temptation.”

  “There is no need to worry for me, Mama,” declared Georgiana. “William’s word is more than enough for me to be on my guard in Mr. Wickham’s company. He will not charm me.”

  “That is good,” replied Lady Anne. “But remember that a man such as Mr. Wickham may not be content with simply attempting to woo you. Under no circumstances are you to be alone with him—a maid should attend you at all times, at the very least.”

  “I understand, Mama.”

  With her daughter’s agreement, Lady Anne allowed the subject to drop. But she continued to think of it for some time, worrying the matter of George Wickham over in her mind as they continued to walk. Whatever the man planned, she would not allow him to succeed, and as her husband would hear nothing against Mr. Wickham, it was her responsibility to ensure he was watched carefully.

  While Darcy was becoming fatigued at being constantly asked questions concerning his father’s likely reaction to his intentions with respect to Miss Elizabeth, he kept his countenance neutral. Mr. Bennet, whom Darcy had grown to esteem greatly, deserved to know the answer to his questions. When the assurance had been given and accepted, Mr. Bennet sat back in his chair, his scrutiny not comfortable in the slightest. Knowing he deserved the man’s hesitance and more, Darcy remained quiet, waiting for him to speak.

  “The other matter which we must canvass is, I suppose, this business between you and Elizabeth from your first visit to the neighborhood.” Mr. Bennet paused and considered Darcy closely. “If I was concerned at all about your character, I would run you off the estate at once. Do not allow my retiring nature to mislead you, young man, for I love my daughters very much!”

  “That was never in question, Mr. Bennet,” said Darcy, eschewing any further comment.

  “As it is,” replied Bennet, “I can readily see the esteem Lizzy holds for you, and it is quite similar to my own. While I would prefer you had acted properly, I can see where a man’s sense might be overcome by the reality of a beautiful young girl teasing him.”

  “I am not happy with my own behavior, Mr. Bennet,” said Darcy quietly. “When I examine my own memories, however, I can only say that it was nothing less than the impulse of the moment.”

  Mr. Bennet chuckled and shook his head. “It seems it was, sir. I trust there will be no more impulses of that nature? Now that you are courting my daughter, the time for such things is in the future. It may be closer than you think.”

  “That is my fervent wish, Mr. Bennet,” replied Darcy with a smile. “Having raised her, you can be in no doubt as to the extent of the enticement your daughter offers. But as to improper displays, I pledge to you that they shall not occur. I shall behave with perfect gentlemanly compartment.”

  “Excellent!” said Mr. Bennet. “I shall count on it. Now, I should appreciate your dispensing with this ‘Mr. Bennet’ nonsense. I suspect I shall be gaining you as a son-in-law, and in such a situation, I shall not countenance formality. Bennet will do excellently if you please.”

  Smiling, Darcy gave his assent and requested the same as Mr. Bennet. It was an auspicious start, and far more than he deserved—of this Darcy was well aware. If the younger Mr. Bennet still looked on him with wariness, Darcy knew he deserved that as well. In the future, his behavior would speak for itself, proving to the man he wished would be his future brother of his trustworthy nature.

  They left Mr. Bennet’s study soon after, joining the other members of the family and Bingley, who had accompanied him from Netherfield and was situated with the eldest Miss Bennet. Then Darcy found himself in the enchanting Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s company again, and his attention could not be spared for anyone else.

  Chapter XXIV

  Foreboding. It was a premonition of utter disquiet that spread through Darcy when the carriage carrying his family was sighted approaching Netherfield’s manor.

  But there was nothing to be done. The invitation had been offered and accepted, and while Darcy was not convinced his father would not offend his friends, the die had now been cast. The Bingleys were good people, and hopefully his father’s innate sense of politeness would prevent him from making a poor impression.

  “You appear as if you fear the approach of the French army, Darcy,” said Bingley in his ear. “Do not concern yourself, for I am certain all shall be well.”

  Though he was not certain Bingley had the right of it—and his friend was altogether too prone to expecting the best—Darcy quelled his nervousness. It was the family’s largest and most expensive carriage, and Darcy could not help but wonder if his father had chosen it because it would impress his hosts with the extent of the Darcy family’s prosperity. Then the carriage stopped, the footmen opened the door, and Darcy witnessed a sight which changed his disquiet to rage.

  “Mr. Darcy,” said Bingley, as the only one of the Bingley family with whom they were acquainted, “welcome to Netherfield! And Lady Anne and Miss Darcy too!”

  The fourth member of the party stood just behind Darcy’s father, looking about with interest, not to mention the hint of avarice which was always present. Then he caught sight of Darcy and smirked, sending Darcy’s anger spiraling ever higher. Insensible to the anger the man’s presence had provoked, Mr. Darcy allowed the introduction to be completed between his family and the Bingleys—the Hursts were also present—and then turned to introduce the other member of the party.

  “Please allow me to introduce my protégé, George Wickham.”

  Darcy could not determine if Mr. Bingley had known of Wickham’s inclusion in the party in advance, for he welcomed them all with equal amiability, inviting the travelers into the house. Mrs. Bingley offered them some refreshment after they were shown to their rooms, to which Darcy’s parents agreed with alacrity.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bingley. It has been a long journey. An opportunity to refresh ourselves would be welcome, indeed.”

  When the family had made their way above stairs, Darcy lost no time in speaking to Mr. Bingley and his son. “I apologize, Mr. Bingley, but were you aware of the inclusion of Mr. Wickham in my father’s party?”

  “Only last night,” replied Bingley’s father. “Your father sent me a letter, informing me of his presence in their party. Is there some problem?”

  Incensed that his father would see fit to impose Wickham on the Bingleys when he was not even part of the family, Darcy remained silent for several moments, taking care to master his pique. The dilemma was what to do on the matter. It would reflect poorly on his father if he informed them exactly what kind of man Wickham was, but he did not wish to leave the Bingleys unarmed against the machinations of his detested former friend. At least Miss Bingley was now married, as was Mrs. Hurst—neither could be a target of Wickham’s schemes, though Darcy knew Wickham was not above wooing a married woman. The Bennet sisters were another matter altogether as they were all handsome, possessed impressive dowries, and were connected with Darcy himself. At least they did not reside at Netherfield.

  In the end, Darcy decided to give them an oblique warning to avoid shaming his father. “I have not associated with Mr. Wickham for some years. To be honest, the last I heard of him, Wickham was in the employment of a law firm in London. I am shocked to see him here.”

  “Is there something deficient in him?” asked Mr. Bingley. The man was as serious as Darcy had ever seen him, and he knew it was not wise to keep what he knew from his knowledge.

  “My father will hear nothing against him,” said Darcy, trying to put the other man on his guard with as much tact as he possessed, “but he has not had the opportunity to see George Wickham in unguarded moments as I have. Wickham will be on his best behavior with my father present, but that does not
mean he should be trusted.”

  It seemed Mr. Bingley heard what Darcy did not say and understood the reason for it. Rather than become angry or press further, the gentleman reached out and squeezed Darcy’s shoulder.

  “Seeing your father favor another man cannot be easy—I begin to understand some of the friction between you. I will have a word with the butler and housekeeper and have a discreet watch maintained on Mr. Wickham.”

  Then the elder gentleman turned and departed, leaving Darcy alone with Bingley. While in normal circumstances Bingley deferred to Darcy, in this instance his concern for what he was seeing overrode that tendency.

  “Now that my father has left us, shall you not inform me of what you know of Wickham? I know you and Fitzwilliam have made some uncomplimentary comments about the man in the past, but this is a little more serious than a simple rivalry.”

  “Wickham? A rival?” Darcy snorted with utter disdain. “Perhaps if you were to sit at the gaming tables with him. Otherwise, the only competition for him exists in the worst of humanity, for I certainly do not consider him a challenge.

  “He is a gamester,” said Darcy, holding up his hand when Bingley would have spoken again. “When we were at Cambridge, he had little interest in his studies and much in every manner of vice known to man. To this day, I have little understanding how he managed to graduate, for I never saw him so much as open a book. The shopkeepers in Meryton should be warned to avoid extending credit, and you should speak with the housekeeper and insist she watch over the maids. While he might not attempt to seduce one with my father in residence, he is not above trifling with them. And when he is eventually introduced to the Bennets, you may wish to ensure he is not left in their company alone.”

  “That is not a flattering picture you paint of the man.”

  “If you doubt me, ask Fitzwilliam. His response will be much less complimentary and much more colorful.”

  Bingley shook his head. “Thank you, Darcy. I will second my father’s words to the housekeeper.” Then Bingley left, muttering to himself.

  “Are you telling tales again, Darcy?”

  “That would suggest I am relating falsehoods,” said Darcy, turning to glare at his nemesis, who was descending the stairs from the upper level of the house. “When I speak of you, there is no need to embellish, for the truth will more than suffice.”

  A snort was Wickham’s reply, and his eyes raked disdainfully over Darcy. Given the speed at which he had once again descended, Darcy thought it certain he had not changed and had only given the barest attention to making himself presentable. The only times when Wickham ignored such things—for he was vain, attempting to show himself an impeccably groomed gentleman at all times—was when he thought presenting himself with alacrity was more important. Or when he thought he could torment Darcy.

  “What is this I hear of you courting a young lady?” sneered Wickham. “I had not thought you had it in you, old boy. Then again, I assume there must be some woman in this world who is as dull as you. It is astonishing, however, you have managed to find her.”

  “And I am equally astonished to see you here, Wickham,” taunted Darcy in return. “Did your employers finally have enough of your affected manners and throw you out? If that is the case, it is not surprising you would return to Pemberley to leech off my family.”

  It seemed they were having two different conversations, for Wickham ignored him and continued in the vein of his previous statements. “I cannot wait to be introduced to the woman who captured the elusive Fitzwilliam Darcy. Of course, it may be better for you if she remained unknown to me. You know as well as I that no woman would continue to favor you when I am nearby.”

  Darcy smiled at his nemesis, and Wickham eyed him warily because of it. “Just remember, Wickham—I know exactly what you are. If you presume to step one foot out of line while you are here, not even my father will save you.” Darcy stepped close and hissed in his ear: “And stay clear of Miss Elizabeth. Depend upon it: I shall be relating to her exactly what manner of man you are at the first opportunity.”

  “I see you two are already in fine form.”

  Stepping back, Darcy noted the approach of his father, followed by his mother and sister. Mr. Darcy was peering at them, exasperation evident in his countenance and manner. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he put himself between them and glared at each in turn.

  “As we are now guests, I would remind you both your conflict cannot be allowed to continue. I will not have you staining the family’s name with this pointless contention. Cease it now, I say!”

  “Of course, Mr. Darcy,” said Wickham smoothly. “For your sake, I shall endeavor to forget Darcy’s offenses directed at me.”

  For his part, Darcy shook his head. “If you would have harmony between us, I suggest you send him back to whatever hole he inhabited in London. If you will not, then keep him from speaking to me and suppress his usual proclivities. Then I shall be pleased.”

  “Can you not bury your enmity as Wickham does?” asked Mr. Darcy with a rueful shake of his head.

  “It is a mark of your blindness with respect to this snake that you think anything he says is sincere,” retorted Darcy.

  How the situation might have escalated Darcy did not know. It had been apparent to him for some years that it was pointless to discuss Wickham with his father as Mr. Darcy would not hear. It was, perhaps, unwise to speak in such a manner to his father, but the sight of Wickham angered Darcy, and he knew he was not always rational when angry. It was for this reason he had always striven for calm before speaking.

  In this instance, however, his mother chose to intervene. “I believe it is best to refrain from further argument. Our hosts await us.”

  Though it was clear Mr. Darcy wished to say something more, he nodded curtly to his wife’s words and motioned Darcy to show them to the sitting-room. It did not escape Darcy’s notice that Wickham was watching him, self-satisfaction clear for all to see. But Darcy ignored him. When he offered his arm to Georgiana before the libertine could, he proceeded toward the sitting-room with his sister on his arm, noting with fierce satisfaction that Wickham was forced to walk by himself.

  The Bingley family proved themselves to be genial and welcoming—or at least those who bore the Bingley name did. Hurst was, as usual, uncommunicative, saying little, concentrating his attention on the refreshments Mrs. Bingley had ordered. Mrs. Hurst was a little more open, but Darcy thought he detected a hint of avarice in her manner, though he did not know how the woman thought she could profit from a distant acquaintance with his family.

  The elder Bingleys were, however, gracious and welcoming, and Bingley was his usual garrulous self. There was some brief conversation, especially between Mrs. Bingley and Lady Anne, who spoke of some domestic matters, Georgiana sitting with them. Darcy’s father spoke primarily with Mr. Bingley and his son, and while he appeared to listen to them closely and speak with perfect civility, Darcy, who knew his father, noted he appeared to be more than a little aloof and proud. For Wickham’s part, he sat and observed, a pose more troubling than had he attempted to charm them all.

  “I understand you have owned this estate for many years, Mr. Bingley,” said Mr. Darcy after they had been sitting together for some time.

  “Yes, before the turn of the century,” replied Mr. Bingley. “The former owners were to immigrate to the Americas, allowing me to purchase at a good price.”

  “Do you primarily produce wheat, or do you engage in crop rotation?”

  The next several moments were spent talking of estate matters, and Darcy was pleased that Mr. Bingley proved himself capable of speaking intelligently concerning the typical concerns of gentlemen everywhere. His father seemed to see this as his manner became a little less aloof and a little more interested the longer they spoke. Then the conversation turned, and Darcy felt his good humor dissipate because of it.

  “Since you have lived in this neighborhood for many years, I
must assume you are familiar with the families nearby.”

  “Of course,” was Mr. Bingley’s simple reply.

  “What can you tell me of them?”

  The attempt to learn more of the Bennets was transparent, but Mr. Bingley responded regardless. “The people are worthy. There is a preponderance of smaller estates, but they are good people, nonetheless. The only other family who are of our level of consequence are the Bennets, and we have been close to that family since we moved here. My youngest daughter is, you understand, recently married to the Bennet heir.”

  “Yes,” said Mr. Darcy with a short nod, “I had heard that. Please accept my congratulations.”

  “Caroline is happy,” interjected Mrs. Bingley. “We had long expected their union, and it would have occurred sooner, had it not been for Mrs. Bennet’s unfortunate passing. There is also reason to suppose our own son, Charles, will be united to the Bennets’ eldest daughter, Jane, before long.” Mrs. Bingley favored her son with a warm smile—Bingley appeared a little silly, seemingly immersed in a recollection of Miss Bennet’s manifold attractions. “Their inclination is plain for anyone of any wit to see.”

  “I have not yet proposed to Miss Bennet,” said Bingley, shaking off his introspection.

  “Perhaps not, Charles,” said Mrs. Bingley. “But we all anticipate it, regardless.”

  “The Bennets have other children?” asked Mr. Darcy.

  “Two more daughters,” supplied Mr. Bingley. “Elizabeth is the elder, Mary the younger. Both are good girls, lively and poised, though Elizabeth is the more open. Neither are a match for Jane, who is widely considered the most beautiful lady in the district, but both are lovely ladies in their own rights.”

  What his father hoped to learn from his discussion of the Bennet ladies, Darcy could not be certain. It may be that he doubted Darcy’s ability to speak of them with anything resembling impartiality, and Darcy supposed he was likely correct. The conversation persisted for some time, the Bingleys extoling the virtues of the Bennets, while Mr. Darcy subtly attempted to draw out more information.