by Jann Rowland
“Because, Mr. Darcy,” said Wickham with exaggerated patience, “I would spare your son from the machinations of a temptress, if I could. I know he has no love for me, but I still feel loyalty to him for the friendship we once shared.”
Darcy regarded his godson and shook his head. “It is apparent to me that we must obtain your next situation as soon as may be.”
The amiable countenance Wickham usually supported was gone in the blink of an eye, the mask of an inscrutable man replacing it. Had Darcy not been watching Wickham, he might have missed it—instead thoughts he had never considered before began to worm their way into his consciousness.
“Do you not see how you are angering my son?” asked Darcy, shunting those thoughts to the side for the moment. “It would be best if you did not create difficulty for yourself, Wickham, as I cannot predict Fitzwilliam’s actions should he deem your behavior too forward.”
“I have no fear for anything he might do.” It sounded like so much bravado. “Even if he should make an attempt, I should think it a small price to pay for rescuing him from a most unpleasant connection.”
“That is not for you to decide,” said Darcy firmly. “For my sake, stay away from Miss Elizabeth for the rest of the evening. I would not wish to make a scene.”
“Of course,” replied Wickham. “I have no desire to cause trouble in this house. But let me ask you one question, Mr. Darcy.”
“Very well.”
“If you do not think Miss Elizabeth is a brazen flirt, why do you think she holds Collins in her thrall?”
“The parson?” asked Darcy, confused.
“Her cousin,” confirmed Wickham. “Surely you have seen how the man positively moons over her. I have heard in the village that Mr. Collins has been in love with her for many years, but she strings him along and teases him, though she has no intention of gratifying his desires. No, her sights are set rather higher.”
Having said this, Wickham bowed and moved away, leaving Darcy to his thoughts. Though he had not thought on the matter any great deal, Darcy had noticed the young man’s seeming infatuation with Miss Elizabeth. At present, he was standing in company with her, Fitzwilliam, the other two Bennet sisters and some others of the neighborhood. And while he thought Wickham might be overstating the matter, there seemed to be something of truth to his words.
For the rest of the evening Darcy watched her, wondering if this was something he could use to pry his son away from her. But more than that, Darcy questioned whether he even wished to.
Chapter XXX
Time was running out. Though determined to discredit his detested rival and set himself up in his place, Wickham knew he would have to do something, and soon. Within days, Mr. Darcy would receive reports back from London concerning his conduct there, and the uncomfortable questions would follow. Ever confident of his ability to talk his way out of difficulty with the gentleman, Wickham still knew his standing would suffer. If there was ever a time to act, it was now.
In the days following the party at Lucas Lodge, Wickham focused on his plans, perhaps more than he had ever focused on anything before. The first prong of attack was his continued attempts to charm Georgiana Darcy. That, however, Wickham was forced to acknowledge as a monumental failure, and it was all because of the actions of Lady Anne Darcy. Simply put, the girl could never be found out of her mother’s company. It was as if she was a mother bear, never more than a few feet from her cub, ready to lash out if anyone stepped between them. This was made evident by an exchange between them one day at Netherfield.
It had seemed perfect. Though the young heiress had avoided him and stayed with her mother, Wickham, quite by chance, had found her walking the halls of Netherfield unaccompanied. Eager to once again subject her to his charms, he bowed and approached her, showing her the winsome smile which never failed to dazzle his chosen conquests.
“Miss Darcy,” said he. “How are you this fine day?”
“Very well, Mr. Wickham,” said Miss Darcy. The smile she bestowed upon him stopped him for a moment, for it had a wry quality he could not quite like.
The moment passed, however, and Wickham proceeded, confident of his success. “It appears to me this little holiday in Hertfordshire has not affected your routine. Your dedication to your education is inspiring, my dear, for there are not many who would continue with such diligence as you.”
“Thank you,” replied she with a little curtsey and a giggle. “Your approval is positively inspiring.”
Again, Wickham paused, for it sounded almost like she was mocking him. Shaking it off, he extended his arm to her. “We have not spent much time speaking of late, and I miss the times we spent together when you were a girl. Shall we sit down together?”
“Ah, Georgiana—there you are.”
Stifling a curse, Wickham whirled to see Lady Anne smirking at him. A glance back at the mousey girl showed her shared connection with the elder lady, for their expressions were identical. Wickham almost scowled.
“Georgiana, dear, please wait in the music room for me. I must speak with Mr. Wickham.”
With another giggle, Miss Darcy curtseyed and entered the room behind her mother, a skip in her step which deepened Wickham’s inclination to glower. But then the lady stepped forward a little, regarding him, a pensive frown bestowed upon him. As women went, Lady Anne was as handsome as any Wickham had met, despite her more than fifty years. Wickham might have attempted to bed her, had she not been his patron’s wife.
“How may I help you, Mrs. Darcy?” asked Wickham when she did not immediately speak. The reference to her husband’s name was intentional.
Lady Anne delivered a faint smile, which Wickham did not like at all, and said: “Let us dispense with the servility, shall we, Mr. Wickham? I am well acquainted with what you want, and I have no intention of allowing it.”
“I am not certain to what you refer,” replied Wickham, feigning astonishment.
“Oh, I am quite sure you are,” rejoined she. “As long as you are living under the same roof as my daughter, I will be in her company. I suggest you find some other heiress to seduce, for you will not succeed with her.
“Furthermore,” said she, speaking over his protests, “you should consider what my husband would think of you attempting to seduce his daughter. While Robert finds you amusing for some reason I cannot understand, he is quite traditional and will not accept even a hint of improper behavior with our daughter. Do not test his resolve, for you will not like the result.”
Then Lady Anne turned away, without further acknowledgement, and disappeared into the music room, Wickham watching her with flinty eyes as she did so. A part of him was frustrated, but he knew he could bide his time with the younger Darcy. Discrediting the brother was the far more pressing concern, regardless.
With that quest, Wickham thought he had more success. Every chance he had, Wickham was speaking in Mr. Darcy’s ear, filling him with his observations of Miss Elizabeth, and as the man was already disposed to disapprove of her, Wickham thought his words were growing in fertile ground. That Darcy’s attentions to Miss Elizabeth were growing ever more ardent was a circumstance which suited Wickham’s designs. Wickham did not approach her much though he did on occasion. Not only did that provoke the younger Darcy to greater belligerence, but the elder Darcy still looked on him with suspicion.
“There she is again,” said Wickham during a morning visit a few days later. “I begin to feel sympathy for Collins, though he truly is a dull specimen.”
Mr. Darcy, though he noted Wickham’s words, said nothing. Wickham continued to regard the woman with distaste, his chin jutting out at her as she spoke with Mr. Collins, her eyes sparkling with delight. For his part, Collins appeared as silly in his adoration as he ever had.
“I wonder if she has yet given him a taste of what she is hiding under her dress.” Wickham’s eyes darted to the side to see how his patron was taking his words. “It would not be surprising—I suspect
there are many men hereabouts who have sampled her charms.”
“Silence, Wickham!” hissed Mr. Darcy. “Do you think you will remain in this house should you be overheard?”
“I offer my apologies,” was Wickham’s smooth reply, though not meaning a hint of it. “Perhaps I was overstating the matter. But she is a flirt—that you must confess.”
“I know nothing of the sort.”
The man’s short statement was belied by the frown he directed at Miss Bennet. Though Wickham knew he had not convinced Mr. Darcy in any way, still his calculated words had sown further seeds of disquiet in the elder gentleman. He turned away, unwilling to show Mr. Darcy a smug grin of satisfaction—how much in life would have been different had he not been able to secure such a man who doted on his every word?
“You claim she is a flirt,” said Mr. Darcy.
“Her brazen overtures are evident to anyone who cares to look,” replied Wickham.
“Then why has she not attempted to work her wiles on you? From everything I have seen, she tends to withdraw from you when you approach her.”
With an uncaring shrug, Wickham said: “That does not concern me, for I do not wish to associate with a woman such as she. Her retreat I put down to her knowledge that I can see what she is about. It is understandable she would have no wish to put herself in my company when I may expose her.” Wickham turned to Mr. Darcy. “I suspect it is for that reason she also avoids you.”
“There is a much simpler explanation for that,” replied Mr. Darcy. Wickham turned to look at him. “It is because I have not been welcoming to her, and she has undoubtedly learned of my disapproval from my son.”
“That may play a part in it,” allowed Wickham. “But it is more than just that. But do not take my word for it, Mr. Darcy. I am certain you are as adept at spotting her inconsistencies as I.”
Even this bit of flattery did not affect the gentleman as much as Wickham might have thought. Though he had never considered the possibility, it seemed Mr. Darcy might be becoming more resistant to his manners. It seemed more drastic action might be required. As they sat there, watching Darcy and his doxy, the hate flowering in Wickham’s mind grew and strengthened. And one way or another, he was determined to ensure he received his due.
As this intrigue was surrounding Darcy, he did his level best to avoid being affected by it. After a few more days and threats, Wickham finally desisted, though he continued to watch Elizabeth. Those in Darcy’s circle, particularly Bingley and Bennet, who most loved her, watched Wickham along with him, Bingley even suggesting a solution.
“My father is also concerned for Wickham’s behavior. It would not take much persuasion to insist on Wickham’s removal from the house. Then he would have no choice but to return to London.”
The thought of the row which would ensue with his father should that happen caused Darcy to grimace. It may yet be required, but for the moment, Darcy thought Wickham had been sufficiently cowed.
“As long as we remain vigilant, there should be little to worry. Of course, your father may do as he chooses, and if he prefers Wickham to leave, I will do nothing but applaud. But I will not ask it of him at present.”
Bingley nodded. “Then we shall all watch over Elizabeth. And do not think she is incapable of defending herself. Should Wickham attempt anything untoward, he will discover how capable she is.”
On a certain day, Darcy and Bingley made their way toward Longbourn, talking and laughing, their high spirits affecting even their mounts, who pranced along, seemingly eager to gallop. To anyone who knew him, Charles Bingley was possessed of an irrepressible temper and enough cheerfulness for ten men. It seemed something auspicious was in the air that day, and had Darcy not been contemplating a similar action, he might have envied his friend.
The sense of expectation seemed to intrude on the senses of the family that greeted them at Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet made them feel welcome with an order for tea as they sat down with the family. As comfortable as he was with this family by now, Darcy spoke with the two Bennet men at length, noting that the younger man was now friendly and open, unlike his behavior upon their return from London. Though Darcy could not imagine thanking Wickham for anything, Bennet’s acceptance was almost certainly hastened by Wickham’s actions.
“The rest of your family have been a fixture in my sitting-room of late, Darcy,” said the elder Mr. Bennet. “I am surprised they have not accompanied you today.”
“Mother indicated a need for Georgiana to attend her studies. My father and Mr. Bingley were discussing a matter of the estate.”
“And you took the opportunity to depart while they were occupied,” said Mr. Bennet, observing Darcy over his teacup. Darcy did not respond, for that was exactly what they had done. “I suppose without the support of his patron, Mr. Wickham would not feel comfortable following you.”
“There are few places in the neighborhood Wickham would feel welcome without my father’s presence.”
Mr. Bennet nodded absently. “He seems well contained, then. Shall he return to London soon? A man in his position cannot ignore his profession long.”
“It is possible. My father has mentioned his efforts to find a new position for his godson. How long that search will consume, I cannot say. I hope he will leave soon.”
A nod was Mr. Bennet’s response, and their talk was turned to other matters. Before long, Darcy found himself once again in Miss Elizabeth’s company, her father having ceded his, and they sat for some time in that attitude, speaking softly.
It seemed Bingley was not to be denied, for it was some few minutes later that he spoke up, looking at Miss Bennet with obvious intent. “The day outside is quite fine for November. Shall we not walk out, Miss Bennet? Darcy? Miss Elizabeth?”
“I have no objections,” said Miss Elizabeth, as her sister nodded, unable to speak because of emotion. Darcy gazed at her fondly—he had become quite attached to this mild creature, and he hoped that she would soon be his sister.
“Mary, shall you walk out with them?” asked Mrs. Bennet, a sly smile on her two sisters.
Miss Mary, however, demurred. “There is no need for me to accompany them. I am sure they can provide chaperonage for each other. It would be my preference to stay and play for a while.”
The sound of Mr. Bennet snorting from behind his cup was heard by everyone and acknowledged by no one. The open grin Mrs. Bennet showed the company informed them all of her opinion, as was the affectionate smile Thomas Bennet bestowed on his sisters.
“That is an excellent idea, Mary dear,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Would you like some company?”
It was astonishing to Darcy how quickly the room cleared after that, and he wondered if a little of the late Mrs. Bennet’s matchmaking tendencies had been absorbed by her family. Mrs. Bennet and Miss Mary soon departed to the music room, and the Bennet men excused themselves to look after some estate business, leaving the two couples in each other’s company. Bingley shot a look at Darcy, which he confirmed with a nod, and soon the ladies were donning their outerwear for their walk.
It is a commonly understood truth that couples make poor chaperones. Once out of doors, Darcy found he had little attention to spare for Bingley and Miss Bennet, for Miss Elizabeth consumed all of his focus. They walked for a time in the back gardens before choosing at random one of the paths which led around the park. By this time, Bingley and his lady had disappeared, leaving them quite alone. It was quite a contrast to the one occasion, foremost in his mind, when they had engaged in similar activities, just before Miss Elizabeth had gone to London. Then, Miss Bennet had been determined to keep him in her sight!
Shaking himself free of Miss Bennet, Darcy looked to his own Miss Bennet, noting how her bonnet covered her face as she walked beside him, revealing only her profile. What a lovely woman he had found! There could be no man so fortunate as he, for no woman could possibly combine a handsome countenance with such a keen mind and playful disposition. It wo
uld undoubtedly lead to argument when they were married, but Darcy would not have it any other way—there could be nothing like having an intelligent, passionate wife to share his life!
The thought of marriage filled Darcy’s mind, every hint of his ruminations focused on his need for her, on how he must find a way to make her his. The receptive hints she had been giving as his attentions grew more ardent, and though he had thought to wait, a sudden impatience overtook him. Stopping in the middle of the path, Darcy turned her to him, taking her hand, noting the arch look she was giving him. The curve of her lips told Darcy she had been expecting this. Expecting it! All doubt was washed away by that knowing look, allowing Darcy to proceed with confidence.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said he, “it seems like I will forever be required to stay on my toes, for you seem to anticipate me at every turn.”
“Forever?” asked she with an arch of her brow. “That seems like an awfully long time, Mr. Darcy.”
“It is, indeed,” was his sage reply. “But it is exactly how long I would wish to have you in my life. I have never been an eloquent man, as you have had occasion to see for yourself. But I am an honest one. The regard I felt for you as I considered what happened between us during our separation is nothing compared to what I feel for you now. There is little doubt you are the most incredible woman of my acquaintance, and I would be eternally happy if you would consent to marry me.”
“Well,” said Miss Elizabeth, “if it be for your eternal gratitude, then I suppose I shall be required to accept.” Then she paused and laughed, catching his hand in her own and pressing a kiss against it. “Perhaps you do not know, but my sister, Jane, and I, have always pledged to marry for love alone. I find, Mr. Darcy, that my heart is quite full of you, the best man I know. There is nothing that would make me happier than to become your wife forever.”
