On the very evening of his return, Mr Gardiner was visited by Mr Darcy, who had obtained his name and address from Colonel Forster. After introducing himself, Mr Darcy explained that he had heard of Lydia’s plight through his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and from his knowledge of Wickham’s friends, in particular a certain Mrs Younge, had managed to locate the couple and interview them separately. Lydia, he discovered, had no wish to leave, and was naively certain that they would marry sooner or later. Wickham, of course, refused to consider any such tie without financial inducement. Having negotiated a settlement, Mr Darcy wished to consult your uncle, whom he felt more able to approach than your father.
While obviously gladdened by this development, your uncle was hard pressed to understand why Mr Darcy should go to such trouble on our behalf. Mr Darcy responded that it was through his own pride, his own embarrassment over his youthful friendship with Wickham, and their subsequent dealings, that he had allowed Wickham to ingratiate himself with your family, and others in the neighbourhood, without publicising his true character. The fault was his; thus so must the remedy be. Over the following days, after my return, we begged him again and again to allow us to share the burden, or at least to tell you to whom we were indebted; but he would have none of it. At length your uncle was forced to give in, and we were left in the uncomfortable position of taking all the credit for the settlement, while bearing none of the cost.
Please understand, Lizzy, that despite Mr Darcy’s stubbornness, your uncle would never have relented had we not suspected another motive. I can only guess what this motive might have been, but since (or so I am informed) you were often in Mr Darcy’s company during your stay at Rosings, you may have insights into this enigma that are not available to me.
Be that as it may, the settlement was duly implemented, and the couple wed. I cannot favour you with an exact figure, but with Wickham’s debts paid, his commission purchased, and who knows what else, the expense must have been considerable—and all at Mr Darcy’s account.
The children have been awaiting a bedtime story for the last half-hour, so I must close now, with our best wishes as always.
Yours very sincerely, M. Gardiner
In trembling shock, Elizabeth folded the letter and put it out of sight. What disgust and humiliation Darcy must have suffered, in addition to the expense he had born, merely in order that her foolish and irresponsible sister should be married, and her family thus restored to some measure of respectability. Transparently he was under no obligation to act thus: the motive must lie elsewhere. Yet if he had done it for her, if he still had hopes of winning her hand, what possible interest could he have in furthering Lydia’s marriage to Wickham, of all people? To be brother-in-law of Wickham! Every fibre of his being must revolt against such a connection.
Still, however inexplicable Darcy’s actions, they were unselfish and noble to an extraordinary degree, and it pained her that her family might never know to whom they were indebted.
Chapter 4
A week passed in comparative normality, except that the house seemed unnaturally quiet after Lydia’s departure. Elizabeth took up Lyrical Ballads again, finding a new fascination in the poems now that she had seen the landscape that was their inspiration, and even touched the hand that had first set them down on paper. Sometimes she read them aloud to her father, in the privacy of his study, hoping in this way to distract him from the guilt she knew he must feel. For the rest, she enjoyed long walks with Jane, in which to the relief of both, any mention of Bingley, or his sisters, or his friends, was carefully avoided.
On returning from such a walk, Elizabeth learned that a letter had arrived for her from London, and ran excitedly to her room to open it in privacy.
Cavendish Square. Dear Elizabeth,
We are finally back in town, and my Georgie has flourished in my absence, which makes me happy, yet declares he has missed me sorely, which also makes me happy.
My husband, who is empowered to decide such things, has informed me that we are to remain in town another month. I complain just to tease him, but between you and me I am glad, for there are exhibitions by Gainsborough and Turner that I wish to see, and a new production of Hamlet at the Theatre Royal.
This also means that we will be available for visits, should you wish to flee the slings and arrows of o.f., or indeed come to town for whatever reason.
My thanks again for your company on the ramble, which was the highlight of my tour, and I hope that the little problem mentioned at our parting has proved more tractable than it seemed at the time.
with best wishes, Bridget Beaumont
After reading this, then re-reading it to make sure, Elizabeth surprised herself by performing a jig round the room, such was her delight. After reflecting often on the outing to Dove cottage, she had come to understand better what drew her to this new friend. Most obviously, they had enjoyed one another’s company, sharing a boisterous sense of fun, and predilection for teasing, as well as a love of books and long walks. But more subtly, Elizabeth sensed in Bridget a route to a different social circle, animated by ideas that were at once exciting and shocking. It was as if she had passed her whole life in a room that represented the totality of all her possible futures, and that now the door had opened a smidgen, revealing unexpected options outside.
Once she had calmed down, Elizabeth’s first impulse was to take up paper and quill, and recount all the momentous twists and turns of the past few weeks. But having covered four sides in half an hour she paused, another plan germinating in her mind. Taking up a fresh sheet, she composed instead a much shorter note, not to Bridget but to her aunt.
Three days later, a hackney delivered Elizabeth to Darcy House, which was located in Mayfair on the edge of Hyde Park. Before knocking, she tried to calm her nerves by walking a few yards down Grosvenor Street towards the park, far enough to get a view through the trees to the Serpentine. Since the afternoon was cool and overcast she had brought her spencer jacket and Mrs Gardiner’s pocket umbrella, planning later to proceed on foot to the Beaumont town house just a few hundred yards distant.
Obtaining Mr Bennet’s consent for a trip to town had proved a struggle since, as he was not slow to point out, she had only recently returned from an outing to the Lakes—and in the Gardiners’ company, moreover. Why would she wish to set off again so soon, to visit the very same people, leaving her poor father bereft of any sensible discourse except that of Jane, who was unfortunately too depressed to say very much? Elizabeth in reply told him a little about Bridget, and the manifold cultural attractions that London offered in the coming weeks, and eventually after further grumbling he relented.
During her journey to Gracechurch Street, Elizabeth obsessively planned and replanned what she would say to Darcy, as if analysing a series of moves in a chess game. First, she would seek an opportunity to speak to him in private. Next, she would apologise for her misapprehensions at Hunsford, where she had accused him of cruelty towards Wickham. Having thus raised the topic of Wickham, she could express her gratitude for Darcy’s intervention, and give assurances of her secrecy. She foresaw several ways in which he might react. Perhaps he was still upset over her cruel rejection of his proposal, in which case she could only renew her apologies. Alternatively, he might be angry that the Gardiners had revealed his role in rescuing Lydia; however, she would make it clear that the fault lay with Lydia herself. But suppose instead that he interpreted her visit as a sign that her feelings towards him had changed, and took the opportunity to renew his addresses. What then? She decided she would have to tell him the truth, namely that although she now trusted and respected him as an honorable man, her feelings towards him as a potential husband had not altered. She still believed him to be proud, and contemptuous of his social inferiors; she still blamed him for separating Bingley from Jane—an action that epitomised his smug over-confidence in his own judgements.
Reviewing these thoughts, Elizabeth retraced her steps to the porch of Darcy House, and ra
ng the bell.
A footman opened the door a crack. ‘Yes, madam?’
Elizabeth handed him her card. ‘My name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I would like to see Mr Darcy, if he is at home.’
‘Good day, Miss Bennet.’ He studied her for a moment. ‘You have not called here before?’
‘No. Mr Darcy and I have met on a number of occasions, and since I am in London for a few days, I wished to give him my regards.’
‘I’m afraid Mr Darcy is, ah, not available at present.’
‘Can you tell me when he will return?’
‘Mr Darcy is at home, madam, but unwell, and so unable to receive visitors.’
‘I hope it is not serious.’
‘Thank you, madam. I will give him your card, and convey your best wishes.’
Noting that he had ignored her question about the seriousness of the illness, Elizabeth asked quickly, ‘Is he attended by his family and friends? Miss Darcy? Colonel Fitzwilliam?’
‘Excuse me, I had not understood you were acquainted with the family.’
‘I have met Colonel Fitzwilliam at Rosings.’
He jerked to attention, and stood aside to admit her. ‘Please come through to the drawing room, madam. I will inform Colonel Fitzwilliam of your call.’
Leaving her umbrella in the hallway, Elizabeth followed the footman to a large room, furnished in simple elegance, with the walls papered in red and gold, and a wide Persian rug in the centre of the parquet floor. It was not long before she heard Colonel Fitzwilliam’s firm step on the stairs, and she rose as he welcomed her warmly.
‘Miss Bennet, what a pleasure!’
‘It seems I have arrived at an inconvenient time.’
‘Not inconvenient, but it is true you find us somewhat in disarray.’ He sat opposite her and lowered his voice. ‘I must apologize for your reception. Burgess has instructions to admit only close associates of the family.’
Elizabeth stared at him. ‘Please tell me what has happened!’
‘Two days ago, Darcy was seriously injured. He is being attended by an excellent doctor who is confident of his eventual recovery, but for the moment he is feverish from the infection, and confined to his bed. As you can imagine, Georgiana is distraught, and has remained constantly at his bedside, even though we have arranged that a nurse is always present. I am staying here for the time being, but to tell the truth mostly for Georgiana’s sake, not Darcy’s. Without supervision we fear she would wear herself out by not taking time off to eat and sleep.’
From his tone as well as his words, Elizabeth realised that the matter must be extremely grave, and with a trembling voice she asked, ‘But how did this come about?’
‘I must ask for your confidentiality here.’ He met her eye, and waited for her nod before continuing. ‘Darcy was hurt in a duel with pistols.’
‘A duel!’
He held up a hand, and she apologised and lowered her voice. ‘So he has been shot?’
‘He took the ball in the outside of his right arm, after which it passed through to his right side, and came to rest at his ribcage. Luckily there is no damage to vital organs, and the ball has been cleanly taken out. Provided the infection can be contained, he should recover fully. However, every pistol wound is a law unto itself, so there is always danger.’
‘But why?’ A dreadful thought struck her. ‘Has this some connection with my sister and Mr Wickham?’
He stiffened. ‘You have been told of Darcy’s role in securing the marriage?’
Elizabeth explained how through Lydia’s thoughtlessness the story had been revealed to her.
He sighed. ‘No, the matter is unrelated, and I should not really elaborate at this point. You understand, Miss Bennet, that duelling is illegal, and has been so for many years. It remains common as a means of settling disputes among gentlemen, but must be practised with a certain discretion.’
Elizabeth thought this a most unsatisfactory explanation, but held back through fear of expressing her views too forcibly. For now, her concern had to be with Mr Darcy’s malaise, and not with what appeared to be the irresponsible folly of his behaviour. In a whisper, she asked, ‘May I see him?’
At the door of Darcy’s room, Colonel Fitzwilliam motioned to Elizabeth to wait while he entered alone. After about a minute he returned, accompanied by a pale girl with puffy eyes, who regarded Elizabeth warily before bobbing a curtsey.
‘Miss Bennet. This is most unexpected.’
‘Miss Darcy, although I have long wished to meet you, I am very sorry to intrude at such a time.’
Miss Darcy stared at her for a few seconds, then turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Surely we must heed Dr Lighthill’s advice and leave my brother undisturbed.’
‘I understand, Georgiana,’ he replied gently, ‘but I think a short conversation will do no harm, and might even cheer him up.’
‘Does Mr Darcy know I am here?’ Elizabeth asked.
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. ‘Yes, and he says he would like to see you.’
Elizabeth looked at Miss Darcy. ‘I promise I will keep the visit short, and take care not to upset your brother in any way.’
Miss Darcy bit her lip, as if struggling to control herself, and stared at Elizabeth again with what appeared to be a mixture of fear and distaste. ‘I do not understand what you want.’ Tears came to her eyes, and she looked suddenly vulnerable. ‘Cousin, I am going to my room. Excuse me, Miss Bennet, I have a headache.’ She walked stiffly away, and after an awkward silence, Colonel Fitzwilliam sighed and ushered Elizabeth into the bedroom.
Chapter 5
It was a large room, in semi-darkness from heavy curtains drawn over all the windows, and papered above a wainscot in dark green. In a corner a nurse sat working on an embroidery. Darcy’s dark shape lay in a four-poster bed, flanked by a table holding a newspaper, some books, and a jug of ale. A chair with a leather seat and armrests had been placed a few feet from the bed.
‘Miss Bennet,’ Colonel Fitzwilliam announced. ‘I will leave you now,’ he whispered to Elizabeth, ‘but if you need me just send the nurse and I will come directly.’
Shaking, Elizabeth lowered herself into the leather chair, while Darcy with a painful effort twisted round to face her. He lay now on his back, with his head supported by two pillows so that he could see into the room. Even in the subdued light, she could see that his brow was drenched with sweat, and his face drawn with tiredness and pain. He looked at her intently for a while, as if forming a memory, and then with a frown said:
‘You have come to scold me, I suppose.’
‘No, I came with quite another purpose, although doubtless you are in great need of scolding, now as ever.’
There was a hint of a smile. ‘I thought I would never see you again.’
He looked away blinking, as if trying to retrieve a thought, then slumped back against the pillow, seemingly overcome by drowsiness. Elizabeth glanced at the nurse, whose attention remained fixed on her embroidery, before taking a folded white handkerchief from the bed and, with a trembling hand, laying it across Darcy’s forehead. His eyes opened a fraction and he inhaled deeply, giving her the uncomfortable sensation that he was absorbing her scent. After another anxious glance at the nurse, she dabbed his brow gently and retreated to the relative safety of the chair.
‘Why did you come?’ he murmured.
She longed to unburden herself by explaining the real reason for her visit—her intense need to thank him, on behalf of her family, for his rescue of Lydia. However, she knew he had wished his intervention to remain a secret from her, and with Georgiana’s admonition fresh in her mind said instead:
‘To apologise for my foolish error at Hunsford, when I accused you of wronging Mr Wickham. I have long been heartily ashamed of my unkindness and lack of judgement.’
The tension on his face eased a little. ‘I feared you would destroy my letter unread.’
‘On the contrary, sir, I studied it with great attention.’
‘Fitzw
illiam said you did not consult him that day.’
‘There was no need. Your explanation was entirely convincing.’
He drifted away again, as if exhausted by this effort, and she was wondering whether to take her leave when he asked, ‘You are well? Your parents are in good health?’
‘Yes, thank you, sir. I have just returned from a most enjoyable trip to the Lakes, in the company of my aunt and uncle.’
‘It is a lovely spot.’
Welcoming the haven of a safe topic, she elaborated on the beauties of Claife and the other places they had visited around Windermere.
‘And did you make new friends on your travels?’
She wondered whether to mention Bridget Beaumont, but instead said teasingly, ‘I did meet one interesting gentleman, far more distinguished than you.’
This brought the hint of a smile. ‘There are many such men.’
‘His name was Mr Wordsworth. He writes poetry, I believe.’
‘You met Wordsworth? That is an honour indeed.’ His eyes glazed over again, and she feared she was over-tiring him when he murmured, ‘Five years have passed; five summers, with the length of five long winters!’
She smiled. ‘And again I hear these waters, rolling from their mountain-springs with a sweet inland murmur.’
‘Once again do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs.’
‘Which on a wild secluded scene express—no, impress thoughts of more deep seclusion.’
He regarded her, and with relief she saw the pain on his face softened by happiness. ‘It’s such a delight, Miss Bennet, to hear those lines spoken in your voice. Can you go on?’
‘My memory has run out, Mr Darcy, but if I may visit again, I will equip myself with a copy of Lyrical Ballads so that I can read to you.’
Before leaving, Elizabeth sought out Colonel Fitzwilliam to inform him of her decision to withhold, for the time being, her knowledge of Darcy’s assistance to her family. She also pressed him for further details of the duel, but learned only that Darcy’s opponent had also sustained an injury. Miss Darcy, unfortunately, was still resting in her room, so there was no opportunity to reassure her that the meeting with Darcy had passed agreeably with no upset or strain.
Darcy's Trial Page 3
