Mr. Darcy's Indiscretions

by Valerie Lennox

  “Oh, is that what you think he said to me?” said Wickham. “Quite the contrary, Darcy. You know, it’s always strange to me how remarkably stupid you are. Of course, perhaps I shouldn’t be so hard on you. After all, I hadn’t worked it out either.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Yes, it was monstrous with Georgiana,” said Wickham. “And I must thank you for stepping in before anything happened. But not because I wasn’t worthy of her. Because she’s my sister too.” He gave Darcy a nasty smile and then turned his back on the man.

  Darcy stood there, too stunned to move.

  “Think about it Darcy,” said Wickham without turning round. “Why else would your father be so interested in lavishing all he lavished on his steward’s son?”

  “No,” muttered Darcy.

  “Maybe,” said Wickham, looking over his shoulder, “maybe because I was never the son of anyone named Wickham. Maybe because I was always your father’s favorite son. The one he wished was actually his heir.”

  Darcy’s jaw worked.

  Wickham resumed walking. In a moment, he began to whistle again as well.

  Darcy didn’t stop him this time.

  * * *

  “I just don’t think you have any room to talk is all,” Jane was saying. It was late. She and Elizabeth were in bed, both staring up at the dark ceiling while they clutched covers to their chest. “You came after me with Mr. Darcy. The two of you were alone. What were you doing?”

  “It’s not the same,” said Elizabeth.

  “I think it is,” said Jane. “I saw the way you were looking at him.”

  Elizabeth squirmed. “I wasn’t looking at him in any particular sort of way.”

  Jane sighed. “Oh, heavens, Lizzy, everything is so strange.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I feel…” Jane sighed again. “It’s as if there’s something within me, something that I’ve only brushed before, a secret thing, a powerful thing.” She was whispering.

  “Jane, what are you talking about?”

  “But when I’m with George, it’s more than brushing it. It’s as though it comes alive and takes me over. It’s almost frightening, as if it robs me of my wits.”

  “And that’s exactly why you should not be alone with Wickham.”

  “But it’s not bad, Lizzy. It’s… it’s wonderful. It feels good. I think it might be good to give into it. Indeed, I have no real earthly understanding as to why I’m fighting it.”

  Elizabeth could hardly believe words like that were coming out of Jane’s mouth. She would never have said anything like that, not even weeks ago. But now, things were different. And what was more, Elizabeth understood what her sister was saying. She turned over on her side. “We fight it because… it’s wicked.”

  Jane continued to stare at the ceiling. “But that’s what I’m saying. What if it’s not wicked?”

  “It is.”

  “You haven’t even felt it. If you had—”

  “I have felt it,” said Elizabeth quietly.

  Jane turned onto her side as well. “What do you mean?”

  “The waltz. It’s…” She didn’t finish the sentence.

  “What is going on between you and Mr. Darcy?”

  “Nothing.” Elizabeth was sharp.

  “Mmm,” said Jane.

  “Oh, stop, you’re jumping to conclusions. Mr. Darcy would never trespass on my…”

  “Your virtue?”

  Elizabeth rolled onto her back again, thinking of her body burned against Mr. Darcy’s, his strong arms crushing her close. How had they gotten so close? What had happened? “He is an honorable man, and he would not visit those sort of consequences on me.”

  Jane snorted. “It seems to me that he’s already visited them on Mrs. Fortescue.”

  “Jane!”

  “Oh, how does it feel to have aspersions cast on the man you are smitten with?”

  “I’m not smitten with him.”

  “Mr. Wickham has proposed. Has Mr. Darcy?”

  “Mr. Wickham has not proposed. He has not come to see our father. He has not made any real, formal declaration. It is your word against his, and he is going to take it all back as soon as he has what he wants from you.”

  “Oh, Lizzy, you sound like one of those dreadful novels. Life isn’t so dramatic as all that.”

  “Isn’t it? You were the one on about the powerful feeling within you. That sounded rather dramatic.”

  “What if I wanted to take what I wanted from him?” said Jane. “What if it were like that?”

  “You—you can’t.”

  “Because I’m a woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why does that matter?”

  “Because…” Elizabeth floundered. “It’s because women are the ones who end up with child. It’s because we have to pay the price, and men don’t. And that’s why we can’t simply throw caution to the wind and give in to whatever it is we’re feeling inside. We have to be smarter than that.”

  “Well, that’s not fair,” said Jane.

  “I know,” said Elizabeth.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The next morning, Jane had already set up a time to meet with Mr. Wickham, but Elizabeth wasn’t about to allow that to happen. She said that she would not accompany Jane on her walk, but Jane was intent on going. She told Elizabeth she would simply go on her own.

  Frustrated, Elizabeth tried to enlist Mary’s help again, but Mary was once again engaged in conversation about scripture with Mr. Collins, and she ignored her sister.

  So Elizabeth decided that she would simply go with Jane and stick close during the entire tryst, which would effectively stop anything untoward from happening.

  However, when they reached the house in the woods, Mr. Darcy was there waiting.

  And that was when Elizabeth remembered his promise to keep Wickham away from Jane so that they could have one more practice.

  “Mr. Wickham won’t be coming today, I’m afraid,” said Mr. Darcy.

  “What?” said Jane. “Why not? What have you done?”

  “I had one of the men from the regiment go to call on him with a grievance. He’s very upset because he thinks Wickham cheats at cards, and he will be there, airing his grievance, for the entire morning,” said Mr. Darcy.

  Jane gave Elizabeth a withering look. “Oh, I see how it is. You won’t allow me to have mine, but you want to sneak off with yours.”

  “We’re only dancing,” said Mr. Darcy stiffly. “And you, of course, are welcome to join us, Miss Bennet.”

  “Yes,” said Elizabeth. “It would be good if you were there. I want you there.”

  Jane surveyed them both coolly. “What makes you think I won’t turn around and run home to tell our mother what you’ve been up to?”

  “Don’t,” said Elizabeth. “Please. I shall surely be punished for doing it, but you mustn’t prevent me from doing it. This is for Mrs. Fortescue.”

  “Yes,” said Jane, glaring at Mr. Darcy. “You have already done your damage to a young widow, and now you have turned your attention to an innocent like my sister.”

  “No, it’s not that way,” said Elizabeth.

  “She’ll think what she wants,” said Darcy. “Are you coming or not, Miss Bennet?”

  “Well, I suppose I have nothing else to do,” said Jane, shaking her head.

  * * *

  The waltzing went very smoothly.

  With Jane there looking on and Mrs. Fortescue at the piano, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth moved through the dance easily enough, with even movements and no mistakes, and no temptations to be closer than was advisable.

  They went through the dance several times, just to make sure they knew what they were about. The final time, they put on masks, as they would at the demonstration, not that Elizabeth had any hope that the mask would really conceal her identity. The mask did make it a bit harder to see, but she found she could still dance.

  After the final time, they spoke of how
it would be the following night at the ball. They would be doing the dance in the middle of the evening. Elizabeth could attend as normal with her family, but she must join Darcy just before the dance would be announced and they would prepare.

  Darcy had already spoken to the musicians engaged for the ball, and they were prepared to play for them. It would all be a very simple thing.

  After the discussion, they parted ways. Mr. Darcy offered to walk the sisters back to Longbourn, but Jane wouldn’t hear of it, so they went alone.

  As she went back, Elizabeth felt disappointed that there had been no more intimacy between her and Mr. Darcy but also relieved. It was a dangerous business, all of it. She was no match for her feelings when she was around Mr. Darcy.

  If even Jane wanted to throw caution to the wind, then how could Elizabeth ever hope of beating back her own desires?

  * * *

  “But what does that mean?” said Mrs. Fortescue. “How could he be your brother?”

  “I suppose he’s my father’s by-blow,” said Darcy. “The product of some affair with a mistress. I couldn’t say. It’s sometimes arranged certain ways by gentlemen. They’ll buy off some man to marry the woman, with the understanding of his cuckolding, simply to give their mistresses more propriety. I suppose if Wickham was a charity case from his household it looked better for the boy than if he was illegitimate.”

  “But some men lavish everything on their bastards,” said Mrs. Fortescue. “Some men don’t try to hide it at all.”

  “I suppose my father is not one of those men,” said Darcy.

  “Or perhaps Wickham is lying to you,” said Mrs. Fortescue. “He wants to take everything from you. All you had left was your identity as your father’s only son. Now, Wickham says this to you, and suddenly he’s usurped you there too.”

  Darcy considered. “It could be. He is a wretched liar. I suppose I can’t believe anything out of his mouth.”

  “There, you see?”

  “But if it is true, in some ways it makes me feel better.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” said Darcy. “Because then there’s a reason that my father was so preferential towards him. Listen, my mother and father did not have a happy marriage. It was arranged, and they rarely spent any time together. When they did, my father was very cold toward her. I never saw him treat her with any affection at all.” Maybe that was the true reason he was bungling things so badly with Miss Bennet. He had no idea how to treat a woman like her. He had no good example. Of course, what was he thinking? He wasn’t going to marry Miss Bennet. He couldn’t marry anyone. He had nothing to give a woman now.

  “That’s horrible,” said Mrs. Fortescue.

  “Well, if he preferred his mistress, it stands to reason he preferred his child by that woman to me. It still hurts to think so, but now I see why he cared for Wickham so much.”

  “And that makes it better?”

  “A bit, yes,” said Darcy. “I feel as if it’s not my fault.”

  “Oh, Darcy, it could never have been your fault.” Mrs. Fortescue gave him a look of sympathy.

  “Oh, stop that,” he muttered. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I can’t bear it, and I don’t deserve it. As bad as things are for me, they are nothing compared to your troubles.”

  Her face fell.

  “Oh, I apologize,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said it in that way.”

  “No, it’s all right. What you say is true.”

  They were both quiet.

  “What if…” He got up out of his chair and began to pace. “Perhaps you don’t have to go to your family. No one knows you are with child, and you only have what? Two months until you are delivered?”

  “About that,” she said.

  “Then could you not move to a smaller house somewhere, make the money from the dancing bequest stretch a bit? Then, when the babe is born, you could foster him somewhere, perhaps marry again?”

  “I won’t give up my child,” she said. “I can’t do that.” Her hands went protectively to her belly.

  Darcy stopped pacing. He nodded. “Of course not. Then, um, we can say it’s a foundling. Left on your doorstep. Probably some desperate mother with no resources left him behind. You have formed an attachment and have decided to take him in and raise him.”

  She considered. “It could work. But I should have nothing at that point. I can’t make the money stretch forever.”

  “Well, if I had two months, perhaps I could find some way to put together a bit more money—”

  “Darcy, you are saving up to buy back Hawthorne Abbey.”

  “Yes, but what does it matter anymore? What am I trying to prove to my father, anyway? He’s never going to love me, not the way I want him to. I don’t care what he thinks.”

  “That’s not why you’re buying back the estate, not truly. It is your mother’s final resting place. It means more to you than that.”

  “Yes, but my mother is dead and you are alive, and you need me.” He threw himself back down in a chair. “I could marry you.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t have much to live on now, but I will. My father won’t live forever. Everyone will think it’s my child anyway.”

  “But it’s not, and then you would be putting this child in line to inherit.”

  “Well, he’s a Darcy, is he not?” he said wryly. “If Wickham is my brother, then the child is my family.”

  “But you don’t love me,” she said. “Not like that. And I don’t love you.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “You can take a lover as you did with your last husband. I’ll take a mistress, like my father did. It’s what people do, isn’t it?”

  “That’s monstrous,” she said. She leveled a gaze at him. “Besides, I have seen the way you look at Miss Elizabeth.”

  He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “There’s no way that could work.”

  “Why not? She would be satisfied with a match with an officer in the militia, even if that’s all you were. Her grasp is not so high. She would be happy with you even if your father lived another twenty years and you and he never reconciled.”

  Darcy furrowed his brow. “You really think so?”

  “I do,” she said.

  He sat back in his chair.

  She smiled at him.

  “We’re not talking of me, though. We’re talking of you. How are we going to help you?”

  “I am going to go to my parents,” she said, sighing. “Really, there is no reason to keep up the dancing lessons. I should go home and give up on supporting myself. I don’t know why I can’t force myself to do it.”

  “We can find another way,” he said. “We’ll keep thinking about it. Something will occur to us. I know it will.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The evening of the Netherfield Ball, Elizabeth was alarmed when Mr. Collins announced his desire to dance the first two dances with her and to stick closely by her throughout the evening.

  She did not want Mr. Collins close to her, and she tried to think of some excuse for it all, but nothing came to her.

  It was only later, as she stepped into the drawing room at Netherfield, that she began to realize what Mr. Collins’s declaration meant.

  He was intending to marry her!

  She supposed it made sense. He knew that he would be inheriting Longbourn. To marry one of the Bennet sisters would keep the home in the family, and she would remain as mistress there for the rest of her days.

  He must have first set his sights on Jane. That was why he followed her around so those first days, speaking to her at length.

  But then that morning, when her mother and Mr. Collins had spoken in whispers, her mother must have indicated that she was sure Jane would soon become engaged to Mr. Wickham, and thus, Mr. Collins had moved on to Elizabeth.

  He likely would have spent every morning badgering her if she had not been absent.

  Oh, this was calamity. What was she going to do?

 
; She had to refuse him. She could not marry him. To do so would be to sentence herself to a life of misery and humiliation. To have that man as her husband! She would rather die.

  But if she denied him, well, what would that mean for the family? Her mother would say this was her duty. It secured everyone’s future after the death of her father, and it was quite neat and tidy.

  She sleepwalked through the first two dances with Collins, too horrified by her musings on the future to acknowledge much of anything that he said. This did not seem to have any effect on Mr. Collins. Indeed, he prattled away unencumbered, not seeming to notice that she was quiet.

  Finally, she saw Mr. Darcy, who had arrived at the ball but stayed in the corner, not partaking in the dancing. The sight of him made her feel raw somehow.

  He gazed across the room at her with his dark, dark eyes, and now she could not think at all. She was caught between her terrible future with Mr. Collins and her shameful desires for Mr. Darcy, with whom she had no future at all.

  And then he came for her, across the room, staring her down the entire time, and he offered his hand and asked if she would dance with him.

  Her voice was choked when she agreed.

  They danced, and it wasn’t like the waltz. It was a proper dance in which their hands only hovered close and never even touched, and in which they changed partners five times before coming back to each other.

  And yet, while it was going on, she was questioning everything. Why couldn’t she marry Mr. Darcy? He was not actually a terrible man with a gambling problem. He had been ruined by Mr. Wickham. In fact, someday, he should inherit a rather sizable fortune.

  She could love him. She knew it.

  But perhaps it was that sizable fortune that was the problem.

  How odd, she thought. I thought him beneath me, and now I think I am beneath him.

  After that dance, she danced with Darcy again, and then he quit the dance floor entirely, but he stayed near to her, only a few yards away, which was bothersome not only because his presence was distracting, but because now he could hear her mother, who was loudly proclaiming to anyone who would listen that Jane was going to marry Wickham, and that the association would be such an advantage to the other sisters.