Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy

by Abigail Reynolds

  Darcy watched as Bingley paced across the sitting room. He had never seen his friend in this sort of agitation. "What is the matter?"

  Bingley swung to face him. "I forgave you when you told me you had hidden Miss Bennet's presence in London from me. I forgave you for failing to tell me of your engagement until you were safely married, even if I did not understand how you could bind yourself to a family you said was beneath me. But now I see it all—you never intended to have anything to do with the Bennets, did you? I would never have thought it of you. Do you intend to cast me off too if I marry Jane?"

  "What in God's name are you talking about, Bingley?"

  "I am talking about my Jane, with tears in her eyes, asking me if I had any news of Elizabeth. How could you refuse to allow her contact with her family?"

  Darcy winced, all too aware that initially he would have been glad of such an outcome. Elizabeth had been right to despise him. "I do not know what Miss Bennet told you, but Elizabeth is perfectly free to communicate with her family. Why, I dined with her aunt and uncle in London not a week ago."

  "But she wrote her family and told them not to contact her! I cannot believe that Elizabeth, who walked three miles in the mud to be with Jane, is the one to desire this separation."

  "She did nothing of the sort!" Even as he spoke the words, his heart sank. Another one of her ridiculous attempts to please him. "At least, not to my knowledge, and certainly not on my direction."

  "But…" Bingley's shoulders slumped. "Jane would not lie to me. Perhaps she misunderstood."

  There he was, the old biddable Bingley, once again believing him without question. He did not deserve such a trust. "Perhaps Elizabeth can explain it. I cannot speak for her."

  Bingley shot him a odd look, as if questioning that his wife might act without his knowledge. But then, Bingley did not know the true circumstances of his marriage or how very little Elizabeth confided in him. He owed Bingley more honesty than he had given him. He rang a bell to summon a servant. "Let me send for her so we can resolve this."

  It was several uncomfortable minutes before Elizabeth appeared. She appeared in good spirits. Darcy hoped she would remain so after this discussion. After their night together, the last thing he wanted was to risk losing her good opinion.

  He cleared his throat. "Elizabeth, Mr. Bingley has a concern I hoped you could clarify. He thinks I have instructed you not to contact your family."

  She bit her lip and glanced at Bingley. "That is not the case. I made the decision myself after… recent events."

  So it was true. "Without discussing it with me?"

  Her cheeks grew pale and she looked down, her hands clasping and unclasping in front of her. Then, without a word, she turned and fled the room.

  ***

  It took him almost an hour to find her, and then he did so only with the assistance of Lucy, who informed him that her mistress often sat in the old grotto in the gardens. She was not on the stone bench there, as he would have expected, but just before giving up, he spotted a corner of sky blue fabric by the big elm tree. He circled the trunk to discover Elizabeth seated on the damp ground, her head tipped back against the uneven bark, her eyes closed. Her face was tear streaked.

  Once again he had made her cry, just when he had begun to think there might be hope for them. She did not love him; he knew that much. He supposed she must have developed some sort of affection for him. After all, she was naturally affectionate, as he had seen when she came to Netherfield to care for her sister, and there was no one apart from him and Georgiana for her to attach herself to now. But despite the night they had shared, she had shown no inclination for his company during the day. It ought to be enough for him to have Elizabeth in her former spirits and in his bed. Why did he always have to want more than he could have?

  He knelt beside her and took her cool hand in both of his. "Elizabeth, I did not intend to upset you." He did not understand her precipitate departure or what he had said to offend her. But after the solace of a night in her arms, he could not bear to see her troubled, especially when he was at fault. She would never have taken such a step with her family had it not been for the disapproval he had expressed earlier in their marriage.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him searchingly. "Did you expect me to lie on your behalf?"

  Now he was completely baffled. "To lie? Of course not. I wanted to know the truth."

  "The truth is that I did tell you about it, as you know well." A single tear made its way down her cheek. "It is true, I suppose, you did not agree to it, but you made no protest, either. Do not tell me you do not recall; you had not taken laudanum in days."

  He shook his head helplessly. "As God is my witness, I do not recall. I would not have agreed to it. I know what your family means to you."

  Her chin dropped, and he could see in her face that he had disappointed her yet again. Desperately he said, "When did this happen? Perhaps I did not understand."

  "It was the day I told you about Lydia's elopement. I gave you the letters from Jane and Lydia, and I told you I had written to my family and asked them not to contact me." Her voice was flat.

  "When I was reading the letters?"

  "Yes."

  He could not bear to see her tears, so he gathered her into his arms. After all, she had said that it comforted her when he held her. It did not matter that whatever affection she bore him was halfhearted; it was enough, at least for now. If only he did nothing to alienate her once more. If she forgave him this. "Then the fault is wholly mine. Many people, no doubt most, can attend to a conversation while reading or doing something else; I am not one of them. I thought you knew. You can ask Bingley; he will tell you many amusing stories of how oblivious I can be. But it is not always amusing, as you have discovered."

  Her head rested against his shoulder as if she were exhausted, but he felt an enormous relief when her arms stole around him. He pressed a kiss against her forehead. "Please, Elizabeth, will you write to your family tonight? I do not want this misunder standing to persist."

  She shook her head. "It is for the best this way. Even without the scandal, there is your sister to consider."

  "Georgiana?"

  "She told me of her history with Wickham. I cannot expose her to the comments my mother and sisters might make."

  "She told you?" They must have indeed drawn closer while he was away for Georgiana to trust her with that information. "While your concern for her is laudable, the cost to you is too high. In any case, it is immaterial. Since this business with your sister required your aunt and uncle to cancel their tour, I invited them to join us here for Christmas."

  Elizabeth looked up at him, her fine eyes betraying her surprise. "You did?"

  "Yes, when I dined with them in London. So it is settled. I spoke to Bingley in London, too, about your sister. I assume that is why he went to Netherfield."

  She said nothing, but her arms tightened around him. It was enough.

  ***

  Georgiana gazed out of the window of the sitting room. The grey clouds looming over the hills matched her mood. Why had her brother left her alone with their guest? He knew how uncom fortable she felt acting as a hostess, even with someone she knew as well as Mr. Bingley. It was not like him to abandon her, especially with only a maid as chaperone. She hoped it was not because of any intentions he might have for her future. A shiver travelled down her back. She did not want to think of marrying anyone, even a pleasant gentleman like Mr. Bingley. After watching the discomfort between her brother and Elizabeth, she was not certain she ever wanted to marry. If the frowns and silences she had seen when she first arrived at Pemberley were what she could expect of a newly wed state, it held no appeal for her. At least they had seemed more friendly since his trip to London.

  She rallied herself to ask a question. "Will you be visiting family in Scarborough, Mr. Bingley?

  "My aunt and uncle. My cousin is to be married next week. My sisters are already there, but I had unfinished busine
ss I needed to conclude."

  "Do you intend to stay long in the North?"

  "Not long; I hope to be back in London inside the month." Mr. Bingley was staring off into the air, smiling as if he were thinking of something pleasant.

  At least Mr. Bingley seemed no more inclined to courtship than she was, if that indeed was her brother's intention. She turned her eyes back to the window, where she spotted two figures walking towards the house. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth. As she watched, her brother stopped to look down at his wife, his countenance serious, then touched her cheek. Elizabeth turned to him and said something with a smile. Fitzwilliam's face seemed to relax, then he bent to kiss her. Scandalised, Georgiana tore her eyes away. Marriage had made her brother so unpredictable!

  She searched her mind for something to make conversation. "Does Miss Bingley still favour the music of Mozart?" Inwardly, she scolded herself for asking such a pointless, foolish question.

  "I could not say. I am embarrassed to say I do not know the music she plays, only whether I like it or not," Bingley said ruefully.

  Oh, how could Fitzwilliam do this to her? If she had to marry, could it not at least be to someone who could recognise the works of Mozart? She felt completely tongue-tied. Fortunately, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth appeared in the doorway before the silence grew painfully long. Georgiana let out a sigh of relief.

  Her brother advanced into the room. "I have solved your mystery, Bingley. Elizabeth did indeed speak to me about the matter, but I was reading an important letter at the time."

  Bingley looked surprised then shook his head and laughed. "And you were completely oblivious, as usual! I should have known."

  Fitzwilliam looked down at Elizabeth, as if seeking confirma tion. She did not seem to want to look away once their eyes met, but finally Elizabeth said, "I had not realised my husband's atten tion was quite so difficult to obtain." Her warm smile mitigated any implied criticism.

  "I cannot believe you have only discovered this after all these months of marriage," Bingley declared.

  Elizabeth's smile slipped a bit, but Darcy spoke up before she had the chance to frame a reply. "She has had little occasion to, as Elizabeth possesses a natural talent for not interrupting, unlike many women of our acquaintance."

  "But now I have a good understanding of it." Her eyes locked with her husband's again. "I intend to put the knowledge to good use by waiting until he is deep in a book to confess any sins I have committed. Then I will have the pleasure of a clean conscience, and he will be none the wiser."

  Bingley said, "An excellent plan. Upon my honour, when Darcy is reading, Bonaparte and all his army could come charging through with sabres drawn, and he would take no notice!"

  Elizabeth laughed. "I hope we shall never have occasion to put that particular theory to the test."

  "Why, once at our club, I bet young William Dumbarton that he could not gain Darcy's attention when…"

  "Bingley!" Darcy interrupted.

  Bingley looked embarrassed. "Oh, very well. My apologies, Miss El… Mrs. Darcy. Forgive me; I still find it difficult to think of you as Mrs. Darcy."

  "That is very understandable, Mr. Bingley. It took me a time to become accustomed to it myself, but now I am quite comfort able with it." Then Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam were staring at each other once again as if no one else were present. Georgiana could not imagine why; in her experience, it was more common for them to avoid each other's gaze.

  Bingley smiled broadly. "I do not intend to go to any great effort to accustom myself to it, since I hope someday to claim a brother's privilege."

  "Nothing could make me happier," Elizabeth said warmly.

  "Nor me," Fitzwilliam added with great firmness.

  Georgiana sat up straight, her heart sinking. So they did want her to marry Mr. Bingley. It was all planned, and she would have no say in the matter. She would have to leave Pemberley and live far away, wherever it was Mr. Bingley lived. Even Elizabeth, who would have been her hope for understanding, seemed to wish it. Georgiana clenched her hands together, willing herself to maintain her composure.

  Mr. Bingley looked ridiculously pleased, and at that moment, Georgiana hated him. Did none of them believe she ought to be consulted? If only she dared speak her mind, but she had never been able to defy her brother's wishes, and she doubted she could begin now. But she could not bear to hear another word.

  She rose to her feet, her palms damp. "Pardon me, but there is something I must attend to." Foolish, foolish, foolish. Could she not at least have thought of a suitable excuse? She hurried out of the room to the consolation of her pianoforte.

  It was only a matter of minutes before Elizabeth found her. Georgiana stopped playing but did not dare lift her eyes from the keyboard.

  Elizabeth stood beside the pianoforte, one hand resting on the top of it. "Is something troubling you, Georgiana?"

  Georgiana closed her eyes. Somehow she had to force the words out or there was no hope. "I do not wish to marry Mr. Bingley." Her voice squeaked on the word "marry."

  There was a long pause before Elizabeth spoke. "I am glad to hear that, since I believe he is planning to make my eldest sister an offer of marriage."

  Georgiana's eyes flew open. "Your sister?"

  Elizabeth smiled, then sat beside her on the bench. "Yes, my sister. He has admired her for some time."

  Her sister! Elizabeth must think her a fool for assuming their references were to her. Mortified, Georgiana mumbled, "It is just that once, long ago, my brother mentioned something… But it is no matter."

  "I expect he had different ideas once, but no longer," Elizabeth said briskly. "You need not worry."

  Georgiana struggled to slow her rapid breathing. "I will try, but I know it is only a matter of time until Fitzwilliam finds someone else suitable for me."

  Elizabeth took her hand between both of her own. "That is no doubt true, but I do not believe he would force you into a marriage. He would want better than that for you."

  A slight hitch in Elizabeth's voice made Georgiana look at her with sudden suspicion. The first time she had met Elizabeth, she had thought her a fortune hunter because she looked so unhappy about her engagement. But now she knew that her brother's fortune meant little to Elizabeth, and she had never considered why else Elizabeth would have consented to marry Fitzwilliam. Now it was clear. Her father must have made her marry him. No wonder she had seemed so wretched, marrying a man she no doubt barely knew. She felt a wave of sympathy for what her sister-in-law must have experienced at the beginning of her engagement, before she discovered what an exemplary man Fitzwilliam was.

  Perhaps there was hope after all. If Elizabeth had sympathy with her position, she might well convince Fitzwilliam to let her make her own choice if ever she wanted to marry. She had seen how carefully her brother listened to his wife's opinions.

  The idea that Elizabeth might try to help her was surprisingly appealing. Georgiana did not remember her mother well, but she could recall how she trusted that her mother would always be there to protect her. She straightened her shoulders and said, "I hope Mr. Bingley and your sister will be very happy."

  Elizabeth tightened her grip on Georgiana's hand then released it. "Thank you. I believe they will."

  Georgiana stayed in the music room for nearly half an hour after Elizabeth departed. She practised Bach, hoping the struc tured phrases of the fugues would soothe her nerves. Finally, she felt composed enough to return to the sitting room. Her brother and Mr. Bingley were there partaking of some refreshments, but Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen.

  It was easier to enjoy Mr. Bingley's company now that she was no longer worried about her future, but for the most part, the discussion centered on his days in Cambridge, about which she could say little. In any case, she was more comfortable listening than speaking.

  It was almost an hour before Elizabeth reappeared bearing a letter with a closely written envelope. She presented it to Fitzwilliam with a flourish. "There. You may post it
yourself."

  He glanced down at the direction then nodded in Bingley's direction. "Thank you."

  "You need not thank me for what I am happy to do!" Elizabeth said.

  Georgiana wondered what this business was about and why Bingley seemed to understand it when she did not. But at least they all seemed happy, which was a pleasant change.

  Mr. Bingley said, "I must say that marriage seems to agree with you, Darcy. Last winter I was beginning to wonder if we should ever see anything beyond a grim visage from you. Mrs. Darcy, I commend you on the change you have wrought in him!"

  "Thank you." Elizabeth spoke quietly as she sat and took up her embroidery. "Although I doubt the credit should go to me."

  Darcy smiled slightly. "It is difficult to persuade my wife to accept a compliment, no doubt because she is easily embarrassed."