“I would not say well acquainted,” said Mary. “In fact, I only remember seeing you at the Netherfield Ball.”
Darcy turned to Mary, his brows furrowing.
“May I present my wife, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Collins, laying a hand on Mary’s shoulder.
Darcy turned to look at Elizabeth. “But…”
She raised her eyebrows. After all this time, seeing him here, she did not know what to do with herself. She had warring desires. She wanted to embrace him. She wanted to slap him.
Darcy cleared his throat. “Mr. Collins married Mary Bennet.”
“Yes, in January,” said Mary. “It was a lovely ceremony.”
Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “And you, Miss Bennet? Were you ever engaged to Mr. Collins?”
“Unfortunately, no,” she said. “He met me coming home one morning and he was no longer interested in me.”
Darcy flinched. Then he lurched across the room to her. “But Miss Bennet, did you not receive my…?” He looked up at the others, clearing his throat. “That is, I now feel as though I have even more reasons to seek out Mr. Wickham, Richard, so if you have no objection, let us be off immediately.”
“Mr. Wickham?” said Elizabeth quietly.
“What about Mr. Wickham?” said a voice from the door.
Darcy whirled. “Georgiana.”
“Fitz,” Georgiana said, smiling. “What are you doing here?” She looked into the room. “Oh, Mrs. Collins, is this your sister that you said was arriving?”
“Indeed,” said Mary. “Miss Darcy, my sister Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth was feeling a bit confused and overwhelmed. She managed a curtsy to Miss Darcy, who curtsied back.
“How could you?” said Darcy to Georgiana. “Haven’t you any idea what he is?”
“What who is?” said Georgiana, who looked stunned.
“Hang it all,” said Darcy, and he tore out of the room without saying anything more.
Colonel Fitzwilliam winced. “Sorry about him. He’s been drinking for several months straight, I’m afraid. I’d better make sure he doesn’t do anything, er, rash.” He followed Darcy out of the room.
Elizabeth sat down heavily on a couch. She felt a bit as though she had been run over by a carriage. She had known that Miss Darcy resided at Rosings and prepared herself to meet Mr. Darcy’s sister, but she had no inkling that the man himself might be here. She had not thought he was reconciled to his relations.
She turned to Mary. “I’m ever so sorry, Mary, but I think I’m developing a dreadful headache. I couldn’t possibly remain. I must go back to the parsonage and lie down.”
* * *
“Ah, you’ve come at last,” said Wickham, standing up from the table in the tavern where he was nursing a tankard of ale. “I did wonder what it would take to get you to seek me out.”
Darcy closed the distance between them, hands clenched in fists. “Come outside with me. I don’t wish to smear your innards all over the walls.”
“Darcy, come now,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was right behind him. “I know you said that you were going to kill him, but I rather thought that was a figure of speech.”
“After what you told me, how could you go after her?” said Darcy to Wickham, ignoring his cousin. “Have you no shame?”
“Well,” said Wickham, “you see, I think I was mistaken. I don’t think he was my father after all.”
“What are you saying?” said Darcy.
“He left me out of his will, Darcy,” said Wickham. “I asked the solicitor when it was being read, and he told me that I needn’t be there for I wasn’t mentioned. He left no provision for me at all.” His expression clouded. “If I had been his son, he would have left me something.”
“Maybe,” said Darcy.
“He left you everything.”
“He had no choice,” said Darcy.
“No, I can’t think that it was anything more than a flight of fancy on my part.”
“You said he told you—”
“I lied,” said Wickham, laughing bitterly. “Is that so surprising? Can you not imagine my telling a falsehood?”
Darcy released his fists. He surveyed Wickham, and he felt his anger leaking away from him now. Why that was, he wasn’t so sure yet, but he welcomed it. “You loved him.”
Wickham’s face twisted. “He was the only person who ever really thought well of me. No one else did.”
“You’ve never deserved to be thought well of.”
“Perhaps not.” Wickham picked up his tankard.
“Why Georgiana?”
“Why not?” Wickham shrugged. “She’s got money, money he could have left to me but didn’t.”
“But there’s still a very good chance that she’s your sister,” said Darcy.
“What?” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “What in heaven’s name are you saying, Darcy?”
Darcy waved him away, focusing on Wickham. “It’s a crime against nature. I didn’t think even you would stoop so low.”
“I tell you, if I were related to you, he would have left me something.”
“You don’t know that,” said Darcy. “I can well attest to what flesh and blood meant to him. I was most assuredly his son, and did that mean he cared about me?”
Wickham hung his head. “Well, I… I twisted him against you.”
“If he’d loved me the way a father should, you’d never have been able to,” said Darcy. “No, he was wretched to both of us. Even though he doted on you, he did you no favors in the end. Left you as a man with no place in the world. You could not fit in amongst your own class, nor could you really be a gentleman.”
“I had an estate,” said Wickham. “I did.”
“Had?”
Wickham shrugged. “Lost it in a game.”
“I didn’t think you ever lost, Wickham, not unless it was by your own design,” said Darcy.
“Neither did I,” said Wickham.
“I’m not going to kill you,” said Darcy suddenly.
Wickham looked at him sharply. “You were seriously considering killing me?”
“I feel sorry for you,” said Darcy. “He never loved me, and it’s destroyed me. I’ve spent months in pain over it. But I see now that his loving you was evil in its way also. To hell with him. He’s dead. Good riddance. I’m not letting him, or you for that matter, ruin any more of my life.”
“Oh,” said Wickham. “I see.”
“I’ll even give you some money,” said Darcy. “On account of your being my brother. But I want you to leave, and I never want to see you again.”
“Money, you say?” said Wickham.
“No need to thank me or anything,” said Darcy dryly. “It’s more than you deserve. And it doesn’t mean I like you. Oh, and one more thing.” He balled his fist up again and drove it into Wickham’s nose.
Wickham shrieked, stumbling backward.
Darcy massaged his knuckles, swearing under his breath.
“What was that for?” protested Wickham.
“That was for telling me Miss Elizabeth was engaged to Mr. Collins,” said Darcy.
“Oh,” said Wickham. “That.” He rubbed his nose. “Yes, I suppose that was a bit petty.”
Darcy rolled his eyes and turned away.
“Darcy?” said Wickham. “The money you promised?”
“Yes, of course,” said Darcy, turning round. He pulled a purse out of his pocket and threw it at the other man. “Money is all you care about, isn’t it?”
“That and a tight, wet cunny,” said Wickham. “What can I say? I’m a simple man.”
Darcy turned away again, disgusted. He walked away, the colonel trailing after him.
“I really have no idea what just happened back there,” said the colonel. “You’re going to explain it all to me, aren’t you?”
“Don’t count on it,” said Darcy. “I am taking Georgiana back to Pemberley, though. She’s been gone far too long.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
&nb
sp; Elizabeth was not lying about having a headache, but when she returned to the parsonage, she could not lie down. Instead, she retired to the drawing room and determined she would write a letter to Jane. The letter would help her to gather her thoughts, because she was not at all sure how she felt.
She wasn’t sure what was worse, seeing Mr. Darcy like that with no warning, or having him leave just as quickly.
And what was it that he had been trying to say to her. Hadn’t she received his what?
She was likely going to go mad from all of it.
The worst was that seeing him brought everything back, all the memories of being close to him, of his lips on hers, his hands on her skin, their bodies pressed close. It made her feel dizzy, and it made her sad.
Mostly, it made her throb and ache. It was painful in a way that she couldn’t quite fathom, because it was tinged with the memory of pleasure and joy. She hated that co-mingling of emotion. She despised it.
She got out paper to write, but she could not seem to set her pen to paper. There were not words to describe to Jane what she was feeling. Indeed, it would be indecent to even set it down in a letter that would go through the post. Letters like that were often read aloud to the entire household or passed about. No, no, it wouldn’t do.
She massaged her temples, wishing there was some way to ease the pounding behind her skull.
And then the sound of the door bell.
Someone was calling at the parsonage? At this time of the evening? That was highly irregular.
Moments later, Mr. Darcy was shown into the room by a servant, and her heart began to beat in time to the pulsing in her head, so that her whole body was one painful drumbeat.
What was he doing here?
He crossed the room in three steps and reached out for her hands.
But she pulled them away and moved out of his reach. “Sir!” was all she could manage to utter.
“Miss Bennet, I have suffered for some months now, and I have just been given information that means my suffering was in vain, for no purpose, and I wish to put an end to that suffering without delay. Tell me plainly, why do you look at me the way you do?”
“How could I look at you else?” she said. “I have not seen or heard from you in months, and when last we were together, you made me promises. Promises that were apparently empty ones with no meaning. Your actions threatened my reputation and the reputation of my family, and you offered no relief from such a consequence. Now, you are here, expecting to touch me again? I think not.”
“I wrote to you.”
“You wrote to me? To a woman to whom you were not engaged?”
“I send it by way of your kitchen maid, Collingsworth, as you instructed Amelia—Mrs. Fortescue. I see that somehow that missive went awry.”
Elizabeth furrowed her brow. “Well, now that you mention it, I did have a curious conversation with Collingsworth one morning several months ago in which she asked me if anything of consequence had come in the letter, and I did not know what she was speaking of. I told her that no, there had been nothing of consequence, for I was preoccupied with preparations for Mary’s wedding. I should have questioned her further, but I did not. And then it slipped from my mind, and I had not thought of it until now. What did your letter say?”
“Primarily, I asked you to break off your engagement with Mr. Collins.”
“But I was never engaged to Mr. Collins.”
“Yes, but I thought you were,” said Mr. Darcy.
“Why would you think such a thing?”
Darcy sighed. “In a word, Wickham.”
“He lied to you?” said Elizabeth. “But why would he do that?”
“To cause me discomfort,” said Darcy. “As revenge for when I punched him, perhaps. I can’t say. I don’t understand the workings of Mr. Wickham’s mind.”
Elizabeth clenched her hands into fists. “Are you a very good shot, Mr. Darcy?”
He was thrown by this. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“Perhaps you ought to duel him after all, but only if you can be assured of killing him.”
“No, I am not going to duel him,” said Mr. Darcy. “He’s not worth the trouble.”
“I hate Mr. Wickham.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Darcy. “He is rather wretched in every way.”
“Why didn’t you come anyway?” said Elizabeth. “If you wanted me to break the engagement, you could have inquired face to face.”
“I would have. In fact, I meant to. I had some jewels from Mrs. Fortescue I used them, together with what I had been saving up, to buy back my mother’s old estate. I thought that would make your father more likely to approve of me. And then, when I was in the process of doing that, I heard the news of my father.”
“Oh, I see,” said Elizabeth.
“That’s when I sent the letter,” said Darcy. “But I received no reply, and then I had word that the wedding had taken place, so I assumed…”
Elizabeth sighed. “What a dreadful mess that is.”
“Yes,” he said. “I must admit that I was in a bit of a bad way after my father’s death. Maybe I might have tidied up that mess and made my way to you sooner if I had not been so lost in feeling sorry for myself.”
“Oh, you were grieving. That’s not the same thing.”
“No, I was not grieving, because I had no real love for my father, and he none for me. I was grieving the loss of some man that I wished existed. I thought I needed him to approve of me in order to approve of myself, that earning his good opinion would somehow change me. But then he was gone, and before there had been any chance of reconciliation between us, and I…” He looked away. “I took it quite badly.”
She stepped closer, and now she reached out for him. She brushed his arm reassuringly. “Losing one’s father is a thing that we all must take badly.”
He looked up at her. “You are too kind, Miss Bennet. I do not deserve your forgiveness.”
She tried to pull her hand back.
But he seized it and covered it with both of his own. “That is, will you forgive me?”
“I don’t think it was your fault, Mr. Darcy.”
“I have behaved abominably to you from the start,” he said. “I know not why, but you have always robbed me of my very sense. I have been driven to all manner of despicable behaviors in your presence, and I could not seem to find a way to school myself. I am quite a disaster when I’m around you, I’m afraid.”
She shook her head. “No, you must forgive me.”
“You have done nothing wrong.”
“Well, I have thought all manner of horrid things about you. I have denounced you to my family and said that you were a blackhearted villain.”
“But there is no reason you would have thought otherwise,” said Mr. Darcy.
“But you were not that villain. It was a misunderstanding. It was all brought about by Mr. Wickham, and now… now…” She looked up at him.
“Now, will you marry me, Miss Bennet?” he said.
She smiled. “After all this, I could hardly say no, could I?”
“You would be well within your rights to refuse me,” he said.
“I will not, though. Of course I will marry you. I had not thought it likely you would ever ask.”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it fervently.
She smiled and stepped closer to him. She offered him her mouth.
“Ah, Miss Bennet,” he breathed.
And then their lips met, and that ache inside her throbbed once more painfully before being soothed into bursting joy.
* * *
Not two days hence, Elizabeth received a letter from Lydia. It must have crossed her letters home, because she was preparing to journey to Hertfordshire later that afternoon along with Mr. Darcy. He would formally offer for her hand to her father, and then their impending union would be sealed.
Lydia’s letter was cryptic, but not nearly cryptic enough. She wrote that one of the maids had foun
d a letter when cleaning behind Elizabeth’s bed.
Truly horrid, isn’t it? To think she has not moved the bed to clean in all this time? Lydia wrote. Why, I would have told Mama to have her let go but then I would have had to reveal the contents of the letter to Mama and she would have been quite put out by them, so I settled for chastising the maid myself.
She went on to say that she would not reveal the contents of the letter here, for Mr. Darcy had alluded to all manner of scandalous things that had passed between himself and Elizabeth.
This made Elizabeth quite curious to read the letter, and when she saw Mr. Darcy next, she asked him what exactly he had said, and he assured her there was nothing particularly scandalous in the letter.
Lydia went on to say that she would keep the letter safe until Elizabeth returned, but that it was quite evident from the letter than Mr. Darcy wanted to marry her, though he had some wrong-headed idea that Elizabeth was engaged to Mr. Collins. She urged Elizabeth to find some way to communicate with Mr. Darcy in order to sort it all out.
After all, isn’t his sister residing at Rosings? Lydia wrote. Surely you could prevail upon her to write to her brother about you, telling him that you were never engaged to Mr. Collins. That might set everything right.
In the meantime, Lydia would do her utmost to keep all that she had discovered secret.
Elizabeth had her doubts that her younger sister would be capable of such a thing, but she could not but help hope Lydia was in earnest. She had skirted enough scandal in these past few months. She would rather not weather anything else.
When Elizabeth and Darcy arrived back at her home, at her first opportunity, Elizabeth got her hands on the letter to read it, and later, she had to give Mr. Darcy a bit of a tongue lashing.
“Nothing scandalous?” she said.
“No, I don’t think so,” he said.
“‘When we fell asleep in each other’s arms’?” she read aloud. “‘If I cannot touch you again, I may lose my mind’?”
“Oh, yes, well… I did not think your sister was going to read it,” he said.
“Lydia now thinks me a wanton,” said Elizabeth. “But it is no matter. I think she likes me better because of it.”
“You will be nothing but respectable from here on out,” said Mr. Darcy. “Beyond reproach.”
Mr. Darcy's Indiscretions Page 37
