Elizabeth wrinkled up her nose. “Oh, are they? I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“Whatever you heard, you must understand that it’s not the way he made it out at all.”
“I do understand,” said Elizabeth. “I know the way he is.”
“He wore me down,” said Mrs. Fortescue. “I refused him a hundred—a thousand—times. I tried, but he would not leave me be. He had to have me, and he made it his mission to do so. The things he promised me!”
“I believe you,” said Elizabeth. “When he speaks, it’s easy to think you are the only woman he sees.”
Mrs. Fortescue’s eyes widened. “Then he has been at you too?”
“Not like…” Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Well, that is to say, I am not with child. There was nothing of that nature that passed between myself and him.”
“For your sake, I am glad,” said Mrs. Fortescue. “But then perhaps you are of a stronger character than me. Perhaps you could have resisted him.”
“I don’t know,” said Elizabeth, and she was being honest. She was fairly sure that she would never do anything outside the bonds of marriage. Well, she was utterly positive. But Mr. Wickham had undone her without even trying. He had been careless with her, charming but with no intention to use her. If he had, she was not sure she would have had the wherewithal to resist him after all. She could still recall how deeply she had wanted him only hours before. Why, her desire for Wickham had made her feel resentful toward Jane!
Perhaps he was not a man at all, but a demon.
“I feel certain that is some fault within me,” said Mrs. Fortescue. “I am a weak vessel.”
“We are all sinners,” said Elizabeth. “Doesn’t the teaching of our Lord Jesus tell us that we ought not to judge? I cannot cast stones at you, Mrs. Fortescue. I will not. In fact, if there is anything that I can do to help you, you must ask me. Anything at all.”
“No, do not be ridiculous. This is my own fault. I have got myself into this mess.”
“Mr. Wickham shares at least half of the blame, and I would venture to say more, knowing him,” said Elizabeth. “I am quite serious. If you need me, at any time, send for me. Find me. I reside at Longbourn, and there is a servant named Collingsworth who works in our kitchens. She can find ways to get letters to me secretively. Please, send for me if you need me.”
“I could never do such a thing. To drag you down into the mud with me? No.” She swallowed and squared her shoulders. “No, I shall simply leave. I must go.”
“Let me help you to get out without anyone seeing you,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Wickham is right about Miss Bingley. She and her sister wish you nothing but ill.”
* * *
“Lizzy,” muttered Jane, rubbing at her eyes. Her nose was looking red and swollen, and her eyes were bloodshot. “I have just gotten to sleep. What is the meaning of this?”
“I have to tell you something positively horrid about Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth. She was standing next to her sister’s bedside, having come straight from sneaking Mrs. Fortescue out of the house.
“Mr. Wickham? But I thought you fancied him.”
“No, not anymore,” said Elizabeth. And now, she was remembering her promise that she could not tell Mrs. Fortescue’s secret to anyone, not even Jane. Oh, dear. What was she going to do?
“Very well.” Jane yawned and then sniffled. “What horrid thing has Wickham done? And do you see a handkerchief there on the table?”
Elizabeth handed Jane the handkerchief. On the one hand, she could quite likely tell Jane the truth and swear her to secrecy and no one would be the wiser. After all, Jane was not the sort of girl who liked to gossip. But if Elizabeth did that, she would be breaking her word to Mrs. Fortescue, and she had promised very specifically to tell no one, not even Jane.
“Lizzy, for heaven’s sake,” said Jane. She blew her nose.
Elizabeth sank down on the side of the bed. “Oh, Jane, I realize I can’t tell you. I have promised someone that I would not speak of it to anyone, even you, and I feel I must not go back on my word. The person I promised does not have trustworthy people in her life right now, and I can’t betray her.”
“Lizzy, is this some sort of awful dream?” Jane gave her a miserable look. “Is that why you are making absolutely no sense at all?”
“Listen, you must promise me that you will cut off any further association with Wickham.”
“What? You wish me to snub him?”
“No, not snub him. Just… don’t encourage him.”
“Mama will be pleased on that score,” Jane said dryly.
“Since when do you care about Mama? You yourself said it was highly unlikely you would marry him, and he pays you no mind now that you are ill in this household. On the other hand, Mr. Bingley seems quite attentive to you, and perhaps if you shifted your designs toward him—”
“I have no designs,” said Jane. “It would be quite presumptuous of me to have any. We both know our station in life, do we not? At any rate, Mr. Wickham seems to be a self-made man, isn’t that what you said? That he had brought himself up from humble beginnings?”
“Yes, but the Bingley family is in trade as well,” said Elizabeth. “What do you care about this?”
“I am only saying that it puts Wickham and myself on somewhat of a more level playing field. I am a daughter of a gentlewoman. He might see that as an advantageous match. However, Mr. Bingley may wish to reach higher.”
“I don’t think he does. I think he is quite taken with you.”
Jane squinted at her sister. “Lizzy?”
“What?”
“You aren’t perhaps saying this because you want Wickham for yourself, are you? Because if that’s the case, simply come out with it, and I shall step aside for you. You are my beloved sister, and I could never let a man come between us, not even one with dimples.”
“No, that is not it at all. Mr. Wickham is a very awful man. He has done dreadful things.”
“Which you are sworn to secrecy about?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” said Elizabeth. “But I can tell you that he is a wretched flirt. He is complimentary to everyone, and he does not single out any woman for his affection, but gives them all elaborate praise. None of it means a jot, however.”
“You are saying that he is dreadful because he is nice to everyone?”
Elizabeth folded her arms over her chest. “He is not nice at all.”
“He has always been nice to me,” said Jane.
Elizabeth surveyed Jane. “You are defending him. You have formed an attachment to him already.”
“Oh, Lizzy, I am so very tired.”
“You must detach with all haste,” said Elizabeth. “He is a villain. I am not lying to you.”
“I have not accused you of lying.”
“You very nearly have. You have accused me of making things up in order to chase you off so that I might have him for myself.”
“I don’t think I really said that.”
“But you meant it.”
Jane suddenly went into a coughing fit.
Elizabeth felt chagrined. Her sister was ill, and Elizabeth was here, keeping her awake, upsetting her. “All right, well I suppose we don’t have to talk about it anymore tonight. You get your rest. I am sorry for waking you up.”
“Thank you,” breathed Jane, letting her eyes flutter closed.
Elizabeth eased herself out of the room. For the second time that evening, she began to make her way back through the house to her own room. This time, she made it there without any interruption.
* * *
“Where is Mr. Wickham?” Mrs. Bennet was saying, looking about the sitting room. She had come to Netherfield, along with her younger daughters, to see Jane. Kitty, Lydia, and Mary were seated next to her, all quiet for the time being. Mr. Bingley and Miss Bingley were present, as well as Elizabeth. But the rest of the occupants of the house were elsewhere.
“He and Mr. Hurst have gone for a ride, I b
elieve,” said Mr. Bingley. “At any rate, I think it is hardly advisable for your daughter to be moved, as you were saying.”
Mrs. Bennet pursed her lips, furrowing her brow. “Riding, you say? But has he not attended to Jane at all?”
“I have been to see your daughter on numerous occasions,” said Mr. Bingley.
“Indeed, he has,” spoke up Miss Bingley. “My brother is hospitable to a fault. He would not dare let a guest of ours be uncomfortable.”
“It is not simply because she is our guest,” said Mr. Bingley. “I do not go to see Miss Bennet out of duty only.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Mama, I think Jane would be much more comfortable at home. In truth, Mr. Wickham has not been to see her at all, not while I have been present.”
“Not at all?” said Mrs. Bennet, the furrow between her brows deepening.
“Well, Mr. Wickham is occupied,” said Mr. Bingley. “But I have been attending Miss Bennet many times a day, and I feel I am best acquainted with her condition. She must not be moved. She must stay here until she is quite recovered.”
Mrs. Bennet looked Mr. Bingley over appraisingly. “Oh, yes, Mr. Bingley, I do see what you are after.”
“I think Miss Eliza may be right in her assumption that Miss Bennet would have more comfort in her own home,” said Miss Bingley. “Perhaps we might ask Miss Bennet ourselves what she would prefer.”
“She would like to go home,” said Elizabeth. “I am sure of it.”
“Mr. Bingley,” said Lydia, sitting up straight in her chair. “You must not forget that you have promised us all a ball. It is the most shameful thing in the world not to keep one’s promises, you know.”
“Lydia not now, for heaven’s sake,” said Mrs. Bennet.
“Oh, indeed,” said Mr. Bingley. “I have no intention of taking back my promise. We shall have a ball. When your sister is recovered, you shall name the day, if you please.”
“Well, that’s very good then,” said Lydia.
“We shall send word of that,” said Elizabeth. “But we must take Jane home today.” She had no wish to be an impediment to anything between Jane and Mr. Bingley, but she thought it best for Jane to be as far away from Mr. Wickham as possible, especially considering the fact that Jane seemed to have already formed some sort of attachment to Wickham. Taking Jane home was for her own safety.
“That might be the most prudent action,” said Miss Bingley. “I would hate for Miss Bennet to feel any further discomfort.”
“You say Mr. Wickham has not visited her at all?” said Mrs. Bennet to Elizabeth.
“Not at all,” said Elizabeth.
* * *
Later, in the carriage, Jane grimaced as they jostled along. She was wrapped in a blanket and her face was pale, her lips bloodless.
“I don’t understand what you were about,” said Mrs. Bennet. “How could you not have secured but one visit from Mr. Wickham? What good is it, I tell you, for you have been blessed with your beauty if you cannot ensnare an eligible young man of fortune?”
“Mama,” admonished Elizabeth. “Jane is ill. She has been doing nothing but blowing her nose and sleeping.”
“You have a cold,” said Mrs. Bennet. “A trifling cold. If you had done this right, you might have been engaged within the fortnight.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” said Jane. “I did hope he would visit.”
Elizabeth winced inwardly. More signs that Jane fancied Wickham. “Well, it wasn’t as though Mr. Bingley didn’t visit often.”
“That’s true,” said Jane. “He was ever so sweet to me.”
Elizabeth turned to Mrs. Bennet. “You were overjoyed when we learned Mr. Bingley was coming to the neighborhood. You were intent that he marry one of us.”
“Oh, certainly,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I suppose that’s true. But Wickham is so charming and dimpled and lovely. And Jane carries such a torch for him.”
“We don’t know anything about Wickham,” countered Elizabeth, who was realizing that her mother had fallen under Wickham’s spell as well. She could understand it. She had been charmed by him also. Oh, how she wished she could tell everyone what sort of man Wickham was. That would end all this. But she could never tell her mother about Mrs. Fortescue, not if she wanted to protect Mrs. Fortescue from gossip. Her mother would spread the story all over Hertfordshire within a matter of hours.
“I don’t,” said Jane. “I have no illusions about Wickham.”
“Yes, but what do you think of Bingley?” said Elizabeth.
“I don’t know why you’re trying to thrust me and Mr. Bingley together,” said Jane, sounding weary. “Really, I have a headache. Could we stop talking?”
“I can’t believe my well-planned scheme came to naught,” said Mrs. Bennet. “You must have done something wrong, Jane. Really, you are quite pretty, but you are not very vivacious, are you?”
“She is ill!” said Elizabeth.
“This is the fate of the family we are speaking of here,” said Mrs. Bennet. “One would think that Jane could find the fortitude within herself to rise to the occasion, as it were.” She clucked her tongue. “Sometimes, when I look at you older girls, I wonder who raised you. I see nothing of myself in you at all.”
“If I had been the one to be sick, Mama, I would have had Wickham proposing to me the second day,” said Lydia.
“Oh, yes, dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, smiling at her youngest daughter. “Well, your time will come. Don’t you worry.”
“I do wish Jane would hurry up and get married,” said Lydia. “How are any of us to find husbands if you won’t, Jane?”
“It is not that I’m opposed to a husband,” said Jane. “But it is not entirely up to me, Lydia.”
“Nonsense,” said their mother. “Take control, Jane. Use your god-given beauty for the good of others. It’s your duty.” She lifted her chin.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I am sorry to see Miss Bennet go so quickly,” said Bingley, leaning against the mantle in his study. “I had thought she might need to recover for a bit longer. It seems sad for her not to be here.”
Wickham was leaning back on a couch, surveying the other man. “Well, if it means there will be no more visits from that mother of hers, I’m happy enough about it.”
“The mother is… loud,” said Bingley.
“Amongst her many sins, that is not even the chief of them,” Wickham chuckled. “But I will say that the eldest Bennet girl is quite nice to look at, at least when she isn’t sick. And the other one, Miss Elizabeth, she’s not bad either. She’s got a quick wit. I like that about her. But it is a pity, I suppose. Wit is wasted on a woman.”
“Oh, that’s not true,” said Bingley. “Why, marrying a dull-witted woman would be frightfully, well, dull, wouldn’t it?”
“Who said anything about married?”
“Then you have no designs on either of them?”
“I thought I had explained this to you. If I’m going to marry, I need to marry for money, and those Bennet girls don’t have any.”
“I hardly think they’re destitute. Their father is a gentleman. He was quite a capital fellow, I thought, when he came to introduce himself.”
“Yes, perhaps. Being a capital fellow has very little to do with how much money he can give to his daughters.”
“You’re such a mercenary, Wickham.”
Wickham shrugged. “I have to be. I can’t afford to be idle about these things. My financial future is in no way secure. I just want a better life for myself. For my future children. All of that.”
“I can hardly imagine your sharing anything with anyone, even your children.”
Wickham considered. “Maybe not.”
“At any rate, if I were interested in pursuing Miss Bennet, I wouldn’t be stepping on your toes?”
“No, of course not,” said Wickham. “I shan’t marry her. That would be utterly impossible.”
“Well, good, then.”
“On the other hand, she is very pret
ty. I imagine she might be a good bit of fun.”
“Fun? What do you mean? You don’t mean that you would treat a woman of gentle birth like Miss Bennet the way you treat common women. Which, may I say, Wickham, is rather abominable.”
Wickham snorted. “You’re just jealous you can’t get away with it.”
Bingley considered. “No, no. That’s not it. I wouldn’t. Although I would say that you have an unfair advantage with those dimples of yours.”
Wickham threw back his head and laughed.
“Anyway, promise me that you will leave Miss Bennet be.”
“Oh, I doubt that I could convince Miss Bennet to do anything wicked,” said Wickham. “The reason I can charm common women is that they are a different sort of breed than a gentlewoman. A woman like Miss Bennet would never succumb. She would guard her virtue to the end.”
“Indeed she would.”
Wickham sat up. He made a tent with his fingers. “Would you care to make a wager, Bingley?”
“Is everything a wager with you?”
Wickham shrugged. “I just thought it might be a bit of fun. A competition of sorts. You can attempt to get Miss Bennet to agree to marry you, while I shall attempt to convince her to agree to let me have my way with her.”
“No.”
“I wouldn’t.” Wickham spread his hands. “I would not actually go so far. But if I could, that would be something you would wish to know, wouldn’t it? What the true character of your intended was? I might even be doing you a favor.”
“She would never, ever yield to you.”
“How much money are you willing to put on the line to support that statement?” said Wickham, grinning.
Bingley shook his head. “This is the most dreadful sort of thing to be betting on. I couldn’t possibly be party to it.”
“Maybe I shall do it anyway, whether you bet me or not. If you truly mean to pursue her, I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t make sure she was as honorable a woman as you deserve. After all, we are the very best of friends, Bingley. What else are friends for?”
* * *
Jane continued to rest at home, and she was feeling much better within a few days and was up and about with no fever and only a few stray sniffles.
Mr. Darcy's Indiscretions Page 22
