A Most Civil Proposal

by C. P. Odom

  “Why, it is George. George Wickham. Are you acquainted with him? Is he not the most handsome and amiable young man?”

  Kitty was thus completely unprepared as Georgiana broke down, bursting into tears and turning to flee, stumbling and tripping, toward the house. Kitty chased after her friend, calling her name.

  Elizabeth and Darcy had just left the house, planning to walk some of the yet unexplored paths of Pemberley when Georgiana burst around the hedge and ran past them, sobbing and crying as she fled into the house. Kitty came up at just that time, asking in concern, “What is wrong with Georgiana? We were walking when she suddenly started crying and ran into the house. She would not even answer when I called her.”

  Darcy turned around quickly to follow his sister, pausing only to say, “I will find Georgiana, Elizabeth, if you will speak to Kitty to see if we can find out what could have caused such distress.”

  Elizabeth instantly pulled Kitty aside to sit on one of the benches to discover what they were talking of when Georgiana became so upset.

  “I have not an idea, Lizzy,” said Kitty, wringing her hands. “I was telling her about how bored I have been since the regiment went to Brighton, when she ran off.”

  “The regiment has left? That is good news to me though you and Lydia might not find it so,” said Elizabeth.

  “Well, at least Lydia got to go to Brighton. I have been forced to stay at home with no officers, no parties, and no one except Mary for company.”

  “Lydia went to Brighton?” Elizabeth asked in shock. “And father allowed her to go? By herself?”

  “She went as the special guest of the colonel’s wife, Mrs. Forster. Mama tried to get Papa to take us all there, but he would not hear of it.”

  “But he allowed Lydia to go? That is deplorable!” Then she remembered what she was trying to determine, and came back to her object. “But why should that distress Georgiana? She knows nothing of this, and she only met Lydia briefly at my wedding.”

  Kitty wrinkled her brow, trying to remember exactly what she had said. “I was talking about how Lydia was becoming quite attached to one of the officers when she suddenly stopped dead still and asked me his full name. After that, she ran off.”

  “Who was this officer?”

  “Why, you know him, Lizzy! Mr. Wickham was quite your favourite for a while, was he not?” Kitty said with a smile.

  “Wickham!” exclaimed Elizabeth with a look on her face that made Kitty’s smile disappear instantly. “Quick”— she grabbed Kitty fiercely by her shoulders —“tell me exactly what you said to Georgiana.”

  “Lizzy, you are hurting me!”

  “Tell me, Kitty!” commanded Elizabeth sternly though she did release her grip.

  “Well,” said Kitty, rubbing her arms, “I told her that Lydia had written that Mr. Wickham had become her particular favourite and that Lydia was sure that they were going to be married. Georgiana asked if he had proposed, and I told her not yet, and then I mentioned his name, which I guess is when she fled into the house.”

  “Married!” Elizabeth exclaimed, grabbing Kitty again. “Lydia said Mr. Wickham was going to marry her?”

  “She said that she was sure that they were going to be married at some time or the other,” Kitty said, and Elizabeth instantly recognized that Kitty was holding something back.

  “Kitty,” she commanded, “you are hiding something. You know that I can always tell. Tell me what you are not saying!”

  “Lizzy, please!” pleaded Kitty, but seeing the determination on her sister’s face, she eventually admitted, “Lydia did say that Wickham had some business problems to take care of and that it would be much less expensive if they went to Gretna Green. She said it did not matter to her, as long as she could sign her name, ‘Lydia Wickham.’”

  Elizabeth released her sister and sat back in dismay. “Wickham! Will we never be free of that man?”

  “Why do you speak so?” asked Kitty in confusion, rubbing her arms again. “You always thought well of him, did you not? He is certainly the most handsome and amiable officer in the regiment.”

  “Wickham will never marry Lydia,” Elizabeth told her sister in irritation. “He must marry a woman with money since he has none of his own. Do you not remember Miss King? And he is, in addition, a most wicked man. Did my father not warn you of him?”

  “Father? Certainly not! He spoke quite well of Mr. Wickham, and I remember at the party before the regiment went away, Mr. Wickham told father that Mr. Darcy would soon make you rue the day that you ever married him, that his cold manner and pride would soon make you dreadfully unhappy.”

  “He said that?” Elizabeth asked, shaken again. “And did my father say anything in my defence to this outlandish statement?”

  Kitty only shook her head miserably. “He only said that bad results come when daughters refuse to heed their father’s advice.”

  “Do I look unhappy to you?” asked Elizabeth in exasperation. “Does Uncle Gardiner think my husband a cold and proud man? Does Aunt Gardiner? Cannot you see that he is truly the best of men? Oh, how silly can you be? Do you not have the wit to see anything other than officers and red coats? Oh, you and Lydia are the two most foolish girls in the world!”

  With that, Elizabeth jumped up and ran into the house, heedless of Kitty, who promptly burst into tears at her sister’s harsh words.

  * * * * *

  Elizabeth met Darcy coming down the stairs, and the look on his face told her that Georgiana had informed him of what Kitty had said, and they quickly compared notes

  “We must talk, Elizabeth. I would suggest that you ask your aunt and uncle to join us in my study. I value their advice and sense, and they are more familiar with your family than I am, though I am far more familiar with the character of George Wickham than I desire to be!”

  Quickly, Elizabeth found them, and she and Darcy informed the Gardiners of what they had learned.

  “Mr. Wickham?” asked Mrs. Gardiner in confusion. “I would no more wish Lydia to marry him than I did you, Elizabeth, but the reaction of both of you tells me that there is much that you know that your uncle and I do not.”

  Elizabeth realized that she had never related even a part of the story that Darcy had told her in Kent of his history with Wickham, and she looked at her husband questioningly, seeking to know how much she should reveal.

  “We must tell them everything, Elizabeth,” said Darcy. “I have tried to keep the details quiet to spare Georgiana, but I now believe that was a mistake. I should have made his character known years back. It might have saved much trouble.”

  Between Elizabeth and Darcy, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were soon made aware of the history and background of George Wickham. Both were shocked at learning the full tally of the man’s iniquities, and this knowledge made their concern for their niece much greater. Lydia had never been one of their favourites, but they had no desire to see the family scandalized by a possible elopement. However, Darcy was quick to dissuade them of that thought.

  “I assure you that the idea of having Wickham as my brother is enough to make me ill, but please believe me when I tell you that there is no fear of that happening. Wickham will never marry a girl like Lydia Bennet because he must marry for money in order to solve his problems. I believe that he has probably run out his string at the regiment and must soon disappear as he has done before in order to evade his debts and avoid debtor’s prison. I know that, for I have paid off his creditors twice before both in Lambton and at Cambridge. Despite his pleasing manner, the man has no trade, no source of income, and is always in search of a match with a woman such as this Miss King that Elizabeth mentioned.”

  He looked soberly at the other three, wondering whether he should mention his suspicion, and decided there should be no more concealment.

  “I must make you understand what I truly fear. I believe that Wickham is preparing to disappear again, and when he does, he may well take Lydia Bennet with him for . . . for idle diversion.”

>   Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner gasped in shock, but Mr. Gardiner’s expression only became graver; he had been working toward the same conclusion though he had not the same experience with the man as Darcy.

  “He will deceive her into thinking that they will be married, he will take his pleasure with her, and one morning, she will wake up to find him gone. Then she will just be one more young girl, alone and friendless and without funds, left ruined and hopeless in a situation that will lead to only one result: she will be forced to use her only possession, herself, merely in order to eat.”

  Elizabeth tried not to cry, for she was so offended by Lydia’s foolishness, but the tears that flowed down her cheeks could not be stopped. They would have been the same as occasioned by any young girl caught in a similar situation by a single, foolish mistake. At least, that was what she told herself . . .

  Mr. Gardiner at last broke the brooding silence. “I believe you have the truth of it, Mr. Darcy. I would suggest that we immediately dispatch an express to inform my brother of what we have concluded. He can then immediately travel to Brighton and bring her home.”

  “I do not believe my father is likely to act quickly enough in this matter,” Elizabeth said regretfully, “for I fear that he will not take our warning with the seriousness that is required. From what Kitty said, he is inclined to regard Wickham favourably in order to maintain his disapproval of Mr. Darcy. There is also this — despite our warnings, he allowed Lydia to accompany the regiment to Brighton in the first place, and if he had taken us seriously, it would make the foolishness of that decision crystal clear. But not only did he ignore these warnings, it is obvious that he never cautioned my sisters to beware of Mr. Wickham. That is assuming he ever read my letters; certainly, he has never answered any of them.”

  Mr. Gardiner was unhappily forced to agree with her. “Certainly, my experience has been little different than yours since none of my letters have received the courtesy of a reply,” he said slowly. “For these reasons, I fear you are correct, and my brother might ignore our warning altogether.”

  “Still, we must send word, for Lydia is his daughter,” Elizabeth said. “But is there not something else that can be done? An express to Colonel Forster, perhaps?”

  “I have another idea,” said Darcy. “I think an express to my cousin Fitzwilliam might bring more immediate results. He is with his regiment near London, and he can be in Brighton the same day after receiving it.”

  “But will he be willing to simply go immediately to Brighton?” asked Mr. Gardiner. “And would he be able to do anything once he arrived? Lydia is not even a particularly close relation, and she certainly will not listen to his advice.”

  “As I told you, my cousin is very well acquainted with Wickham’s transgressions with regard to my sister. I assure you that, once Colonel Fitzwilliam reaches Brighton, Lydia might do any number of things, but she will not do them with George Wickham. My cousin will make sure that any attempt by Wickham to flee before we arrive, with or without Lydia, will result in his urgent need for a surgeon. My cousin, you see” — he smiled grimly — “is not a particularly forgiving man, and it took considerable effort on my part to convince him to allow George Wickham to continue breathing our air after the affair at Ramsgate. I am not disposed to go to that effort again.”

  “Before we arrive?” Elizabeth asked. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Our first task, of course, is to notify Mr. Bennet and my cousin immediately. Fitzwilliam will be on his way within the hour of receiving his letter. He can talk to Colonel Forster as a fellow officer and thus ensure that Wickham makes no sudden departures. As for ourselves . . .” He looked at Mr. Gardiner. “The express will not arrive at either destination until tomorrow evening. If we leave within the half-hour and push hard, we can be in Brighton early on the day following. Even if Mr. Bennet acts immediately, he could not be there sooner.”

  “I agree, Mr. Darcy. It is exactly this kind of bold, forceful move that could possibly thwart Wickham’s plans, and I am gratified that you would involve yourself to save the honour of my family.”

  “My family now also,” returned Darcy, and Elizabeth’s uncle nodded gravely in agreement.

  “I will go as well,” said Elizabeth. “I will be needed for Lydia. She will be hard enough to handle even for the two of us.”

  “It will be a hard trip, Elizabeth,” warned Darcy. “It might be better if you stayed to attend to your sister and Georgiana.”

  “But sir,” answered Elizabeth impudently. “What is fifty miles of good road? And is not the Darcy coach up to the task?”

  “Touché,” said Darcy with the hint of a smile curling his lips. “Though in this case, it is closer to two hundred miles than fifty.” He paused then smiled in defeat. “I shall have to be more careful of what I say in the future, my dear,” and he and his wife shared a look of both humour and understanding.

  “Very well, Elizabeth,” he continued decisively, “it shall be as you wish. In a half-hour, then?” he suggested, and the travelling party nodded agreement. Seeing that all minds were in accordance, he rang for servants to prepare his coach and to pack a travelling kit of clothing and provisions for the three of them.

  Chapter 31

  Thursday, July 30, 1812

  It was somewhat beyond the half-hour before the travelling kits, provisions, blankets, and cloaks were stowed into the coach and the travellers were ready to begin their journey, but it was a testament to the efficiency of Pemberley’s staff that all was accomplished as soon as it was. After saying their goodbyes to a still-pale Georgiana, a tearful Kitty, and Mrs. Gardiner, they boarded the coach.

  “Heigh-up, Stephens,” called Darcy, and the coach rattled off down the road, attended by the stares of the three ladies in the rear courtyard. They watched silently until the coach drew out of sight, and then, equally silently, turned and entered the house, made so much quieter by the departure of the rest of their party.

  * * * * *

  In the coach, the travellers tried to make themselves as comfortable as possible. Though the coach was well sprung, Darcy had ordered a pace that would maximize their speed with changes of drivers and teams arranged accordingly along the way. Thus, even the springs of his coach were not equal to the task of smoothing all the bumps and jerks of the road.

  Though their bags were tied out of the way on the top of the coach, Darcy had kept one satchel with him. Elizabeth said nothing as he opened it to disclose a brace of pistols, inspecting each one in turn to make sure they were loaded and primed but not cocked. Elizabeth did not know Wickham to be a dangerous man or prone to violence, but if it came to a choice between his life and the infinitely more precious life of her husband, she would much prefer Darcy to be armed than otherwise.

  When he finished checking the pistols and secured the satchel in a pouch on the door, Darcy put his left arm around his wife and drew her close. He looked over to see the smile on Mr. Gardiner’s face as she rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, and he smiled back, both men joined in their love and concern for her. Darcy knew that Elizabeth had planned to tell her aunt and uncle of her pregnancy, but with the events of the day, there had not been time. The paternal look of affection on her uncle’s face, however, made Darcy believe that Mr. Gardiner, or perhaps his wife, had already surmised her condition. He held her tightly as he felt her breathing slow and deepen, and he prayed for her safety, wondering anew if he should have allowed her to come.

  As if you were going to stop her, his common sense told him dryly, and he smiled at that as he closed his own eyes. On a trip like this, he knew, it was advisable to sleep when possible before the accumulation of aches and pains made it impossible.

  The long miles passed slowly. Darcy passed out food from the baskets—bread and cheese and fruit, washed down with warm wine in thick mugs. About every two hours, the coach stopped to change teams, and the passengers were able to get out, stretch out the kinks, and relieve and refresh themselves before cl
imbing back in to return to the bouncing journey. Elizabeth napped off and on well into the night, waking once to find the others asleep. It was dark in the coach though the moon was bright, lighting the roads and passing fields so that the driver was able to guide the coach easily. They were travelling more slowly than they had done during the day, which was only sensible, and she could occasionally hear the voices of the driver and his assistant. She knew that her uncle and husband had kept their own conversation to a minimum so that she could sleep, so she sat silently and watched the moonlit fields pass by until they stopped at the next coaching inn.

  So the long journey continued with the passengers conversing when they were awake, discussing what might be done at Brighton or moving on to lighter topics such as the theatre or books they had read. When Darcy and her uncle fell to discussing the war news from the continent, Elizabeth listened with interest though she could contribute little. Dawn broke, and the day stretched on, but the unending monotony continued as the miles crept past. It was after dusk when the coach finally clattered into the courtyard of Darcy House, where lanterns were lit and the staff was prepared to assist them. The hot baths awaiting them were a particular delight after the dust of the journey had worked its way into every part of their clothing and skin. When she was clean, Elizabeth joined Darcy in his bed and fell asleep instantly in his arms, only to be roused while it was still dark for the last leg of their journey.

  The coach rattled through London and onto the road to Brighton as the sun began to come up, and the routine of the day before continued. It was just short of noon when the driver called, “Mr. Darcy, sir! Brighton ahead!” The passengers became more alert at the signal that their excruciating journey was nearing an end. But shortly afterward, the driver called out again, this time with a note of urgency in his voice. “Mr. Darcy! There be a red-coat up ahead, a’wavin’ to us! Do we stop or ride on?”

  Darcy reached into the satchel on the door and pulled one of the pistols out then leaned out the window to take a look. “Pull up!” he called suddenly, replacing the pistol as the coach came to a halt. “It is Sergeant Henderson, my cousin’s man. He must have been sent out here to intercept us.”