Dearest Elizabeth, what do I not owe you? As a child, I was taught what was right; but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves, taught me to be selfish and overbearing and to care for none beyond my family circle.
It has been a hard lesson, but most advantageous. By you, I have been properly humbled. Before that day in the parsonage, indeed before meeting with your father, I had no doubt of my reception. Learning of your previous disapprobation showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased. And if not for this lesson, might my pride have suffered the same fate as my aunt’s? Would I have become devoid of every proper feeling? Was my attempt at arranging Bingley’s affairs any less officious?
Your uncle has informed me that the efforts of investigation against Wickham have been negative, and now it is clear why. Lady Catherine held him on retainer and supplemented his income. I truly have no notion how to rid us of him, for any amount of money I may give him now can only offer temporary relief. Anne and Richard’s wedding will be announced and made public nearly a week before the militia is to decamp, and this may spur Wickham into action. I pray your father remains steadfast in protecting your sisters against any plot Wickham may quickly arrange.
I await the day I may be in your company once more but still expect to be in Town for another week complete. London amusements have nothing to offer me, and I am certain you will not be surprised if I tell you I spent half of last night in the card room. I admit I played poorly; instead I was captivated by memories of a certain evening at Netherfield, while you visited. On that night Miss Bingley decided against cards and took it upon herself to invite you for a walk about the room.
I remind you again of my constancy and affection,
F. Darcy
Elizabeth had expected an account of his visit with Lady Catherine. She had expected it to be abundant in bitterness and anger directed at his aunt. Thus, her feelings upon reading the letter were scarcely to be defined. With amazement did she first understand the cause for Miss de Bourgh and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s hasty nuptials and the past scandal attached to the Fitzwilliam family. In astonishment, she read that Lady Catherine considered any apology to be in her power. When she read of Darcy’s mercy towards his undeserving aunt, she was proud of him—proud that in a cause of compassion and honour, he had been able to get the better of himself when every kind of pride must revolt at the action.
She could not place herself as his principal inducement, regardless of his words. It was painful, exceedingly painful, to recall her prior ungracious sentiments towards him. With a shock, Elizabeth realised that if he had not been truly amiable all along, he would have hated her for it. In spite of the pains he took to disguise himself, his feelings were always noble and just in his heart. Surely, he was the most generous of his sex, and every moment made his affection more valuable.
Next, she turned her attention to the letter from Lady Catherine:
Darcy House, London
Friday, May 8, 1812
Miss Bennet,
You can be at no loss to understand the reason for this letter. Your own heart, your conscience, must tell you why I write. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such a moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. You will soon be united with my nephew, to which I am now reconciled, and I am resolved on making my sentiments known to you. I have greatly wounded him, my niece, and even you and your family. You know the truth of my actions against Darcy, and I am ashamed to admit I have insulted you by every possible method. I have been an unfeeling, selfish woman. Darcy has offered forgiveness if I can but make amends with you and your family. And so I apologise and beseech you to overlook my offences. I assure you that I am determined now to only work for the good of the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families, including you.
I will only add, God bless you.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh
To say Elizabeth was astounded by such a letter was an understatement, but she recognised, with surprising compassion, that Lady Catherine had a difficult life and that her apology was humbling and sincere. It was scarcely the work of a moment for Elizabeth to grant the forgiveness and allow any resentment to give way. Her affection for Darcy persuaded her to reconcile with his aunt.
Chapter Fifteen
Friday, May 22, 1812
On the Wednesday following Elizabeth’s letter from Lady Catherine, instead of reading an account of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s marriage to Miss Anne de Bourgh, the whole county was distressed to read of the assassination of the prime minister, Spencer Perceval. For each successive day for over a week, there was more news to be consumed. Society interest stories were put aside for the time being, including marriage announcements.
Darcy was a faithful correspondent and assured Elizabeth that his cousins married without incident. He also assuaged any fears Elizabeth had over the accounts of rioting in London, although he admitted the uneasiness felt within Town. The disruption went so far as to affect his business matters, and he would need to delay his arrival in Hertfordshire by another week. He was not to be expected earlier than Monday the 25th, marking over a month since he left Hertfordshire.
On the very last day of the regiment remaining at Meryton, Wickham dined with several other officers, the Lucases, and the Bingleys, at Longbourn. Having been frequently in his company in the last several weeks, Elizabeth had learnt to detect his artificiality. His behaviour in the last week was a fresh source of displeasure, continually hinting at Lydia being welcome at Brighton. Her father had not the smallest intention of yielding, but her mother never quite despaired of succeeding at the plot.
The tea things had just been brought out when her reverie was interrupted by Lydia’s peals of joy. Heedless of all decorum, she raced across the room, her mother not far behind her, and nearly bounced into her father’s lap.
“Father! Now you must allow me to visit Brighton. For Mrs. Forster has invited me as her particular friend!”
Elizabeth watched as her father sat in stunned silence. It was clear he considered it as nearly a death warrant for the family but had never entertained such a possibility before.
Her mother broke the silence in a loud whisper, as the whole room watched the scene unfold. “My dear Mr. Bennet, now you must allow her to go! She is such an invaluable friend to Mrs. Forster, and now she may have her share of diversions with so little expense to us! Lizzy and Jane have had their share of amusements this year; you are always giving them the preference!”
Mr. Bennet now looked towards Elizabeth, and thus did the rest of the party. For the sake of saying something, she ventured, “Mama, nay, it cannot be so. For we had planned a surprise for you early this summer, and you will wish Lydia home.”
The astonishment of the room was just what Elizabeth wished, that of Mrs. Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest. When the first tumult of joy was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the while. “How good it is of you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should persuade you at last. I was sure you loved me and your girls too well to neglect such a scheme! Well, how pleased I am! And it is such a good joke, too, that you should have gone and made all the arrangements and never said a word about it till now.” She took a moment to breathe, then began again, “Now which resort is it? Where are we to go?”
Wickham just barely hid a smirk, and Elizabeth perceived an unusually evil glint in his eye for just a moment before his charming façade snapped back into place. Elizabeth was wild to silence or tame Mrs. Bennet and was just about to imagine some need for her mother to speak to the housekeeper when Miss Bingley drew her notice.
“We frequent Scarborough, but it is much too far for your family to travel, dear Jane. Perhaps Ramsgate is your destination. Miss Darcy enjoyed her visit there last year very much, and I should not be surprised if Mr. Darcy arranged to visit
again.”
At the word Ramsgate, Elizabeth’s head jerked and found Wickham staring at her with a calculating expression others did not appear to notice before slipping into his usual geniality. Smiling, he said, “Yes, I am sure Darcy would find pleasure at Ramsgate again, for he must be longing to visit Kent and see his betrothed, Miss de Bourgh.”
Caroline Bingley smiled widely as she happily announced, “Oh, you are wrong, Mr. Wickham! Miss de Bourgh has lately wed Mr. Darcy’s cousin, the colonel. It was in the paper this morning. They finally are through with all the tedious talk of Mr. Perceval’s death.”
There was a general outcry of astonishment at the announcement, but Miss Bingley was resolute that she always knew Mr. Darcy’s interest lay in a different quarter. The mistress of Pemberley must be very accomplished and well known in Society, and Miss de Bourgh was not. Caroline clearly triumphed at the defeat of one supposed adversary, and Elizabeth ventured her suggestion of Ramsgate was due to the likelihood of Mr. Bingley wishing to visit instead of parting with Jane. Miss Bingley would happily watch her brother court Jane if it meant an opportunity to see more of Mr. Darcy. Although before she seemed ready to give him up, his absence from Netherfield seemed to rekindle her admiration.
Elizabeth quickly discerned that Wickham had seen the paper this morning and felt truly assured of his scheme now. Perhaps he had suggested for Mrs. Forster to invite Lydia to Brighton, but now Ramsgate could prove just as ideal for him! Elizabeth relied on her newfound talent for subterfuge, and after the cries of disbelief on Darcy’s unattached state calmed, she glanced at her father. Confidently she replied, “Thank you for the suggestion, Miss Bingley, but we will be going to...Weymouth.”
She raised her chin and saw Wickham’s eyes widen. She intentionally selected a resort quite distant from both Hertfordshire and Brighton. She neglected to remember it was favoured by the Royal Family, although the King was too ill for visits, until her mother nearly fainted from the excitement.
“My salts! My salts! Can you imagine? We might even meet the King and Queen! I daresay, perhaps Lydia will marry a duke!” Elizabeth winced but also believed it unlikely due to the King’s poor health.
The idea of meeting with aristocracy drew the attention of Sir William Lucas, however. “Indeed! I was only just thinking that Lady Lucas would benefit from the sea air. Bennet, I say you, let us all travel together.”
The conversation then turned towards plans for their travels and comparisons of Bingley’s experiences at Scarborough, to what Colonel Forster knew of Brighton, to the now highly anticipated journey to Weymouth. Mrs. Hurst supposed the shopping may be better at Weymouth than resorts she had visited in the past. Her husband laughed that as long as the port was well stocked it did not matter where they summered. Elizabeth surreptitiously observed Wickham’s thoughtful expression for some time and felt beads of perspiration gather around her brow as dread filled her heart.
How came her family to fall into Wickham’s plot against all their best intentions? Her only consolation was the distance between Brighton and Weymouth and that her whole family was meant to go. Darcy might attend them as well. Surely Wickham would not be so stupid as to leave his regiment and attempt an elopement under the nose of her father and Darcy, and yet his countenance expressed security. Oh, how she longed for Darcy’s good understanding and knowledge in the face of this complication! She could scarcely wait the four days until he would arrive.
*****
Monday, May 25, 1812
As it happened, Elizabeth would not be able to acquaint Darcy with the Weymouth scheme before his arrival in Hertfordshire. She must wait for her aunt’s reply, not expected until Saturday, before writing again, and Darcy was to arrive the following Monday. Even if she did write out of turn, which might arouse the suspicion of others in her household, there was little hope of Darcy receiving it or replying before his arrival. The matter was not urgent; therefore, it would need to wait. In the interim, a much more pleasing report was to be made.
Miss Bingley had supposed correctly: Mr. Bingley could not bear to part from his angel, and after six weeks of courtship, he asked for her hand in marriage again. This time, he was met with a favourable answer, and the entire Bennet household rejoiced. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief when Bingley mentioned during his call at Longbourn after church on Sunday that he planned on spending some time in Weymouth with his sisters and Mr. Hurst. The more people around her family, the better, in her opinion.
The calm in her breast was short-lived, as Mrs. Bennet cried out, “Oh, no, that will never do Mr. Bingley! For Jane must be married before Michaelmas, and you and she must be in the neighbourhood for calls and such.”
Elizabeth rejoiced at the newest whims of her mother. “Aye, Mama, let us all stay here to enjoy Jane’s engagement.”
Mrs. Bennet rolled her eyes and huffed. “No, you silly girl. Someone must shop in London, and you know I cannot abide the air and the heat of London in the summer. You are to go with your aunt and uncle to the Lakes in July in any case. No, I will send you...”
“And Lydia!” Elizabeth commanded more than suggested, and the entire room looked at her with uncommon interest.
Lydia cried in indignation, “Mama! What do I care for shopping for Jane and for London? Maria Lucas and I had so many fun plans for the travels. Let Kitty go. She has the better taste in lace. I am sure Sir William will not mind if I travel with them.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded at the scheme, as she could never refuse her favourite child a thing. “Yes, yes, excellent points, dear.”
Elizabeth bit her lip to keep herself from speaking out against the plan and resolved to talk with her father after Bingley had left. Mr. Bennet remained resolute that Lydia would not travel without her family. He had at last learned to be cautious. Elizabeth hugged her father tightly about the neck and left his library in great satisfaction. She had done her duty and was content that all should be well.
To recover from her recent agitation she went on a walk. Oakham Mount had always been a cherished retreat, but quite frequently in the last five weeks, she came and sat at the very place she had kissed Darcy. As she sat, she cast her eyes about and noticed looming clouds. She fervently prayed it was not raining near London and would not delay Darcy’s return. She expected him on the morrow, and Elizabeth was tolerably well acquainted with her feelings by this time and only wondered how to explain them. She closed her eyes and contemplated Darcy’s latest letter. He was becoming a true proficient with each additional chance at practising, and his reputation of writing charming long letters was saved. Elizabeth sat lost in thoughts for some time until interrupted.
“Elizabeth,” the most welcome voice said to her and gently squeezed her shoulder.
“William!” She nearly squealed in delight, and without thought, she launched herself into his arms.
*****
Darcy had finished his business early. He had to admit to himself, the chance of seeing Elizabeth a day early was excellent motivation. Desiring to make better time and loath to ride confined in a carriage as usual, he rode his favourite Arabian instead. His carriage, valet, and trunks would follow the next day as planned. He made excellent time. As he neared Meryton, something pressed him on. He did not stop at Netherfield or even call directly on Longbourn; instead he needed to visit the spot where he first felt Elizabeth’s lush lips on his, her pleasing form in his arms. Being away from her for five weeks, when it seemed she would welcome his attentions, severely strained his sanity.
His horse was tired, so he allowed it to rest at the bottom of the summit and climbed Oakham Mount on foot. The vision he beheld nearly took his breath away. Elizabeth —he was fairly certain she was not a phantom of his imagination —sat in the very spot that was the beginning of his favourite memories. He silently walked around to look at her. She had her eyes closed, and her face expressed contentment and peace, with a secret smile on her lips. He hated to interrupt whatever brought her to that state of bliss, but he needed
to hold her and taste her the way a starving man needed sustenance.
“Elizabeth.”
Darcy laughed in surprise and delight when she jumped into his arms, but she immediately silenced his mouth, and he was lost. Lost to time, lost to all reason, lost to anything but the amazing, joyous sensations of having his beloved in his arms, returning his affections and matching his fervour.
Their lips collided again and again in a frenzy, smiting Darcy with the utmost force of passion he felt for this woman. The only woman who had ever truly captured his admiration —the only woman who had bewitched him body and soul. At last, they paused to catch their breath, and he held her close to his chest, attempting to calm his racing heart.
“William...” Her voice was hoarse, and he smiled as he looked at her bruised and swollen lips.
“Shh, dearest. Please, just let me hold you.”
Elizabeth’s only response was to nod and nestle into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him as tightly as he clung to her. He nearly laughed in memory of the desperation he felt during their first embrace. He had barely entertained any hope that this moment would come, but now he could feel it. She was allowing him into her heart. He could feel their hearts beat in unison as their bodies melded together, and he dared to believe they were united, at last, in affection as well.
He tightened his hold around her before pulling back to look into her bright and shining eyes. His heart leapt to his throat when he saw the emotion in them.
“How I love you!” he declared and saw her eagerly nod, clearly struggling for words. He took her hands, kissed them, and began to pull her to the path. “Come, those clouds are worsening.”
Compromising Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Anthology Page 19
