by Leenie Brown
Darcy raised a brow but said nothing.
“It will be,” Richard repeated, “eventually.”
It was Darcy’s turn to shake his head. “I hope you are correct, for if you are not, the pain of separation I suffered after leaving Netherfield is not something I would wish on anyone, let alone you. You are my cousin and Georgiana’s guardian. I would see you happy even if it were to cause a rift in our family. And, as my wife’s sister, I would see that Mis Lydia was settled appropriately into a marriage. I know her father can only provide so much.”
Richard shook his head. “I could not accept such charity.”
Darcy smiled. “I know, that is why I will give it to her as a gift through her father.”
Richard chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I had forgotten you have delved into your scheming nature, but we speak of things that will likely never be.”
Darcy shrugged. He had attempted the same sort of arguments with himself before he left Netherfield, and he knew that Richard was no less stubborn than he himself was. Therefore, there was little use in debating the point with the man. He watched as his cousin took two more turns of the room before sitting down. “Not a word of this conversation leaves this room.”
“Not a word.”
“No matter how Bingley might taunt.”
“Not a word,” Darcy repeated.
“And no compromises.”
Darcy laughed. “None. Unless one becomes necessary.”
“She is lively and pretty,” Richard muttered before slipping into silent contemplation of his glass once more. “Charming,” he said breaking the silence. “She is charming.”
“And in want of instruction?” Darcy asked.
Richard nodded. “There is that.” He chuckled. “I shudder to think what she might say or do in the presence of my mother’s friends. And that is yet another reason why this is not a good idea.”
Again, Darcy was reminded of his own arguments against accepting his growing admiration for Elizabeth when he was in Hertfordshire. He had not feared her behaviour causing any raised brows, but he had feared the actions of her family would.
“I like them,” he said aloud.
“You like whom?” Richard asked in surprise.
“The Bennets. I had thought I would not. I thought I would merely learn to tolerate them, but the more I know of them, the more I like them.”
“Indeed? How so?”
“Mr. Bennet is indulgent, but he loves his family greatly. He knows his faults in that regard and admits them willingly. Only a man of true character would do so. And he is sharp. Such a keen mind!”
“But would not a man of character also take action to amend his ways.”
Darcy had considered that very thing. “He may take action once his leg heals.”
“And if not?”
That was a good question, and Darcy weighed it carefully. “Perhaps I could lend some aide? Just as you are with Miss Lydia?” He shook his head. “They have been exposed to a limited amount of good society here with you and Georgiana, and they have responded well to the setting. Granted it has only been a short time, and the setting is new, but if they were to experience society here in town…”
Richard nodded. “It could work. Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy could see that their sisters were given appropriate instruction and opportunity to be part of a finer society.”
“They are not as horrid as I had first thought.” Darcy’s mouth tipped up on one side. “But then, I was not in any mood to be pleased when I was in Hertfordshire.”
Richard chuckled as Darcy knew he would, for Richard had heard Darcy’s grumblings about leaving home and spending an extended amount of time with Miss Bingley in the country – country where he knew no one but his host.
“That covers the father and the younger Bennets, but what of their mother?”
Darcy blew out a great breath. “She is not astute, but I believe her heart is good. Do you not remember how she responded to learning about Wickham?”
“That was impressive.”
“She wishes to see her daughters avoid the trials she has endured.”
Richard’s brows drew together in question.
“I cannot say more than that. It would be wrong, but suffice it to say, Miss Bingley is not the only devious woman with whom Mrs. Bennet has been acquainted. In fact, Miss Bingley seems not so bad after hearing the tale Mr. Bennet shared with Elizabeth and me.” He shook his head again. “She was a tradesman’s daughter who became a gentleman’s wife.”
The comment was met with an understanding nod from Richard. They both knew how some could, and did, treat those whom they imagined to be their inferiors.
“Aunt Catherine will not be pleased,” Richard said.
“Indeed, she will not be.”
Their aunt was one who enjoyed feeling superior to all around her. She was the daughter of an earl and the wife of a baronet. Those two facts entitled her, in her mind, to a great deal of deference.
Richard drained the last of the liquid from his glass and rose. “You are getting married.”
“I am.” The joy that such a thing brought to Darcy’s heart and mind was overwhelming. Elizabeth would be his Mrs. Darcy.
“Come along, old man.” Richard motioned toward the door. “You and Mrs. Bennet have an exciting day ahead of you tomorrow. You’ll need your sleep.”
“I am not old,” Darcy said as he rose to follow Richard while he hoped, that in his happy state, he would be able to sleep.
“Married, old, are they not one and the same?” Richard teased.
“No,” Darcy said as they entered the hall. “They are not the same.”
Chapter 23
Elizabeth lay awake for some time after she and Jane had discussed, at length, their good fortunes in securing the affections of men such as Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. Jane was now breathing softly and evenly next to her, but for Elizabeth, the excitement she felt when she thought of this room being just one of the guest rooms in her home would not allow her to relax enough to join her sister in sleep.
She sighed and closed her eyes.
Mrs. Darcy. It would be a wonderful name to wear, for with it came the love of Mr. Darcy. She pressed her fingers to her lips as she recalled his kisses and wrapped her arms around herself as she imagined being held in his embrace. Why had no one ever told her how lovely such things were? It was likely because once one knew…
Her thoughts trailed off as she heard something in the hall in front of her door.
She sat up in bed and listened.
Yes, there. That was a door, and if she was not mistaken, it was the one directly across the hall. Was her mother or one of her sisters unwell? She put on her slippers and robe before sneaking quietly into the corridor.
“Lydia,” she called in a whisper to the disappearing form of her youngest sister. “Lydia,” she called again as she hurried toward the staircase. “Where are you going?”
Lydia looked back at her sister and held a finger to her lip, indicating that Elizabeth should be quiet. However, there was no way Elizabeth was going to remain silent when her sister was sneaking around Darcy House in the middle of the night.
Elizabeth scampered down the stairs after Lydia. “Lydia!” she called in a louder whisper as Lydia moved toward the front door. Where was she going and at this hour?
“I will only be a minute,” Lydia called back.
She turned into the sitting room, and Elizabeth sighed in relief. Lydia must have left something in there.
“Lydia, you frightened…” Elizabeth did not finish the sentence as she took in the aspect of an empty sitting room with an open window.
“Lydia?” Elizabeth called through the window before exiting the house herself in hopes of finding her sister — which she did. However, Lydia was not just outside the window; she was running down the street. Elizabeth chased after her, turning the corner just after her sister had, but stopped short the sight before her.
“Lydia!” Elizabeth’s
heart leapt to her throat as a gentleman extended his hand from a carriage, and Lydia climbed in.
“Are you coming, too?” Lydia asked, poking her head out of the still open door.
“I am not getting into a carriage in the middle of the night dressed as I am, and you are getting out.”
“Oh, I will get out in just a moment. I only need to give my reply, and then we can return home,” Lydia assured her. “But you do not want to stand on the street in the damp night air, do you?” She put her hand out to her sister.
“You must get out,” Elizabeth demanded.
“I cannot. Not just yet,” Lydia replied.
Elizabeth sighed and accepted Lydia’s help into the carriage. As foolish as she knew it was to enter that vehicle, there was no way she was going to let her sister sit in there with some gentleman unchaperoned. Why what if the man drove off with Lydia still in the carriage? She would never forgive herself for not having attempted to see to Lydia’s safety.
“It is good to see you,” the gentleman occupant of the carriage said as Elizabeth settled into her place next to Lydia.
“Mr. Wickham?” Her shock was so great at seeing him that had a cat batted at her as it did a length of yarn, it surely would have knocked her over.
“At your service,” he pulled the door closed and tapped the roof of the vehicle.
“Where are we going?” Elizabeth demanded.
“Scotland,” Wickham replied.
Elizabeth clutched the top of her robe at her throat. “Scotland?” she squeaked, her eyes darting from her sister to Wickham in the dim light from the exterior lanterns that filtered through the windows.
“No, we are not going to Scotland,” Lydia replied. “That is what I have come to tell Wickham. We had intended to run away and marry. I thought it would be a great lark. However, I have changed my mind.”
“What do you mean, you have changed your mind, my dear?”
Wickham’s tone did not sound pleased to Elizabeth, and she sent a silent prayer heavenward that Providence would keep them safe.
“I do not love you.”
“One does not need to be in love to marry,” Wickham argued.
“But I should like to be, and while I do not love you, I think I might love another. And that would make being married very awkward, do you not agree?”
Elizabeth sucked in a breath. Lydia thought she was in love with Colonel Fitzwilliam?
“Has Darcy turned your head?” Wickham asked with a laugh. “He is rather old and dour for a pretty young thing such as you.”
“Oh, no!” Lydia swatted Wickham’s knee. “But he is not so terrible as you said. He has been very kind, although that might be because he is in love with my sister.”
Wickham threw back his head and laughed heartily. “I suspected as much when I met him in Hertfordshire.”
“You did?” Elizabeth pressed her lips together. She should not have said anything.
“You are surprised to know that I knew of his admiration for you, but you have yet to protest that admiration.”
“Only because she is as in love with him as he is with her,” Lydia explained, much to Elizabeth’s dismay.
“Indeed?” An unpleasant smile crept across Wickham’s face.
“But Mr. Darcy is not half so gallant as his cousin,” Lydia added dreamily.
Wickham’s head whipped from his observation of Elizabeth toward Lydia. “Fitzwilliam?”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Lydia said with a sigh.
“He is even older and more unpleasant than Darcy,” Wickham said.
“He is wonderful, and he is a colonel and the son of an earl.”
“After his money, are you?”
Lydia shook her head. “No. He does not have all that much, but it should be adequate.”
The carriage drove along silently for a time, making several turns, before Wickham tapped the top of the carriage signalling for it to stop.
“What are you doing?” Lydia asked as he opened the door.
“If you are not going to Scotland with me, then you should not be in this carriage.”
“But we are not returned to Darcy House,” Lydia protested. “I cannot just get out anywhere you choose.”
“You can, and you will. Out!” He pointed toward the door. “I shall have you removed if you do not remove yourself.”
Lydia gasped.
“Out!” he shouted inches away from her face.
“You are not nice,” Lydia said with a flip of her head before poking Elizabeth in the side. “It seems we must walk home.”
“I do hope you can find it,” Wickham said with a sneer. “And I hope your colonel and his cousin will still accept you when it becomes known you were walking the streets late at night dressed as you are.”
Elizabeth wrapped an arm around Lydia’s shoulders.
“They will!” Lydia shouted at the carriage as the door closed. “They are gentlemen unlike you!”
She stamped her foot.
“Oh, of all the rotten things to do!”
“Shhh,” Elizabeth said, trying to calm Lydia even as her own heart and mind raced. “We do not need to attract undue attention.” She was not exactly certain how one got to Scotland, but this did not look like it was the correct direction. She looked up and down the unfamiliar street. There was a light in a window not far down the road, and people seemed to be moving about at the door. Perhaps she could inquire as to where they were and from that find her way back to Mayfair.
“Do not tell anyone where we are staying,” she hissed in Lydia’s ear. “And do not use your name.” This did not appear to be an affluent neighbourhood, and she feared what some of the people here might do if they thought she and Lydia had any money of their own.
“Then who shall I say I am if someone asks?”
“You are Grace — it is one of your names — Grace … Gardiner — after Mama, and I am your sister Ann.” Elizabeth’s mind whirled as she concocted their story. “We are staying in Gracechurch Street. If we can get there, we can get home.” How she longed to be safe inside Darcy House at this moment! “Our carriage broke down three streets back,” she whispered. “But I do not know how to explain the way we are dressed. Why did you have to go out at night, Lydia?”
Lydia pursed her lips and glared at Elizabeth. “I am Grace.”
Though Lydia’s expression was defiant and her chin lifted, Elizabeth could see the sheen of tears in her sister’s eyes.
“I am sorry,” Elizabeth replied. “I should not lecture at present.”
“I did not think he would toss us out on the street.”
Elizabeth could hear the trembling in her sister’s voice. Those tears were likely to start falling at any moment.
“That is understandable.” She rubbed her sister’s arm soothingly while her own heart hammered in her chest. “All will be well,” she murmured as comfortingly as she could. “All will be well.” She only hoped her words were true.
Chapter 24
Elizabeth and Lydia trudged a distance down the road before Lydia asked quietly, “Why would he do such a thing?”
Elizabeth could hear the hurt in Lydia’s voice and responded gently, “Because, he is not what he appears. The stories he told about Mr. Darcy are lies, and, well…” She paused and pulled her sister closer as she considered how Darcy’s sister Georgiana had been duped by Wickham. “I must know something, Lydia.”
Her sister nodded.
“Was it your plan to elope or his?”
There was a long moment of silence during which Elizabeth thought perhaps her sister would not answer. However, she did.
“I am not entirely certain.”
“What do you mean?”
“I joked with him and his friends once about how I would likely be the first of all five of us sisters to marry. I was only flirting. But then, one day sometime later, Wickham suggested that I could ensure that I was the first to marry if I were to marry him.”
“Did he make you an offer o
f marriage?”
Lydia shook her head. “Not in so many words. It was more of a suggestion and not a request.”
“When did this happen?”
“Oh, it was when I was telling him all about the ball at Netherfield. He was very sorry to have missed it and the chance to dance with both you and me and doubly sorry that you had been forced to dance with both Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy. He laughed for some time about that actually.” Her head ducked. “I did, too. It was not nice of me.”
“I felt sorry for myself for having had to dance with them both,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “I had no idea just how wonderful Mr. Darcy was at that time.”
“Nor did I,” Lydia said with a small smile. “He is quite nice, is he not?”
Elizabeth squeezed her sister close and agreed before urging her to continue telling her about Wickham.
“Wickham was surprised at Mr. Darcy dancing with you at first. ‘What?’ he said, ‘Old, high and mighty Fitzwilliam Darcy condescended to dance with someone not in his circle? That is rich,’ and then he dissolved into peals of laughter. Then he said, ‘Do you know what would be an even better joke than Darcy dancing?’ Of course, I did not, and that is when he said we should run away and marry because that would truly be something about which to laugh.”
“Marriage is not something about which one should jest.” Elizabeth kept her voice soft but firm.
Lydia sighed and rubbed the corner of one eye. “I know that now.”
“Do you?” Elizabeth demanded.
Lydia nodded as she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. “I did not know one could feel anything more than a thrill of being admired until I came to Darcy House.”
“Are you saying you love the colonel?”
Lydia’s shoulders lifted and lowered. “I think I love him. He… he cares for me.” A small silly grin tipped the corners of her mouth. It was an expression Elizabeth recognized, for she often wore it when thinking of Mr. Darcy. Her youngest sister was well and truly besotted.
“And I wish to please him.” Lydia shook her head, her smile fading. “And I do not just wish for his admiration of my hair or clothes or anything. I want him to think well of me.” She brushed tears from her cheek and once again lifted and lowered her shoulders sadly. “He will not after this.”
