“What is your thought, then?” Darcy asked.
“The family must pay for the dowry.”
Thereinafter the two men entered into a lengthy and hard-fought dispute; Mr. Gardiner was most determined that Lydia’s family should bear the expense of the dowry; but Darcy was in a position to prevail by dint of sheer stubbornness, as without his information, Mr. Gardiner was powerless. The upshot of it all was that Darcy was to supply a dowry of only one thousand, and the family would provide an additional one hundred pounds per annum, which was more even than the interest of the original sum would have provided, and would limit the ability of Wickham and Lydia to recklessly spend the principle. Further, Mr. Bennet would be called on to clear Wickham’s debts in Meryton, which Darcy believed, from comments dropt by Wickham, to be less substantive than those in Brighton.
When at length they reached this understanding, Mr. Gardiner rang for fresh tea, and the two waited in near silence during the interval until it arrived; Darcy, feeling he had imposed more than enough on Gardiner’s good will, waited in a self-deprecating manner until the other should come around. But with the commonplace comfort of sharing hot tea, the contentiousness of the matter was relieved, and they revived. Reassured, Darcy brought up the more practical issue of the wedding arrangements, on a preliminary basis, to prepare him for another meeting with Wickham.
“We shall have to have Wickham take up new lodgings in this parish,” observed Mr. Gardiner: “From your rather guarded description, I shouldn’t imagine their current parish would suit.”
“No, I suppose not,” Darcy allowed. “But this should not go on any longer than it must; if he were to move soon into your parish, do you think you might be able to persuade the vicar to grant a license without the full four weeks residence, or must we have the banns read?”
Mr. Gardiner paused to reflect. “He is a bit of a stickler, but I believe he would be willing to halve it, as she is my niece,” he said hesitantly. “But I will just walk over to the rectory this afternoon, to test his disposition and try to get his agreement.”
“Shall I bring Miss Lydia Bennet to you?”
Gardiner thought this over a moment, then answered, “I think not; let her remain in her chosen circumstance; there is no use vexing ourselves until I can discover the vicar’s feelings: we may be better off simply having the banns read.”
Darcy nodded his acceptance, and took his leave not long afterwards. Going back to Whitechapel, he informed Wickham where things stood, and that, to Darcy’s intense disgust, the financial aspects were moving in his favour.
Chapter Twenty
The next morning Darcy returned to the Gardiner’s. He was quite looking forward to being in Mr. Gardiner’s company again, and hoped that Mrs. Gardiner might have news to tell of Elizabeth; if nothing else, he hoped to hear that she was well, and to be assured that his efforts on behalf of her family would have the desired effect in setting her world to rights.
Mrs. Gardiner, who had arrived home from Longbourn not long after he had finished his discussion with her husband the day before, greeted him warmly, as did Mr. Gardiner. They sat down in the same drawing-room he had been in the day before; Mrs. Gardiner was exceedingly curious and quite aflame with questions, but first, however, Darcy asked to hear what the vicar had said concerning the marriage.
“He will accept their residence on the strength of my guarantee,” said Mr. Gardiner, “but only if he sees them in church twice before the wedding; I fear to have the two of them walk through the doors together, though: who knows what divine retribution they might call down on our poor congregation.”
Darcy and Mrs. Gardiner chuckled at this, and Darcy was relieved by the news. But then he was called on to tell his tale; where Mr. Gardiner had more wanted to hear the facts pertinent to the remedy of the situation, Mrs. Gardiner was every bit as anxious to know the parties’ motivations, and would not be satisfied until she had heard every thing Darcy had to say. He was therefore obliged to relate the affair at rather greater length, from finding the trail at Mrs. Younge’s through meeting with Wickham and Lydia, and on to the end of the business at the inn. In describing these events, Darcy was careful to withhold any mention of the men he had employed, and to soften any and all difficulties he had experienced—and in particular, giving no hint of his use of coercion with either Mrs. Younge or Wickham—not that he felt remorse for what he had imposed on Wickham, as what he deserved was much crueller, and so he felt no unease for the means he had been forced to use; but if Wickham was to be accepted into their family, it was best that they should remain ignorant as to the full extent of his low companions and his predilection to corruption.
As he recounted this history, Mrs. Gardiner repeatedly expressed her amazement and admiration for all he had done, as well as her deep sense of obligation. Darcy did his best to convince her that there was no need for the latter: “I assure you, Mrs. Gardiner, there can be no obligation on your side,” he informed her. “It was due solely to my neglect that the situation arose at all; I only regret that it took so grave an act as his eloping with your niece before my duties became clear to me. Wickham had to be stopped, and on no one’s shoulders but my own could this fall.”
She looked unconvinced. “If not Wickham, it would have been another such,” said she in long-suffering tones. “You have saved us from irredeemable disgrace, Mr. Darcy.”
“We cannot know that,” he protested, “whereas I have seen this coming for years, and ought to have taken action sooner, before your niece was drawn into his influence.”
“Notwithstanding,” put in Mr. Gardiner, “my wife has a point. Finance aside, as I have no wish to re-open that matter, there can be no question of our moral obligation to you. We are in your debt, whether you will or no.”
“If I accept that, will you accept that I am also in your debt, for the steps you have taken to help bring Wickham to the altar? I doubt I could have managed without your help.”
“The two are not of equal magnitude, but I can allow that we have been of some assistance,” said Gardiner with an air of measured assessment.
“Good,” said Darcy. “Then let us leave it at that, shall we?” To this Mr. Gardiner gave a grudging nod. Then, knowing what he was about to say must set off yet more contention, Darcy said with some hesitation, “Now; I believe no one but Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and ourselves, are aware that I have any knowledge of the matter: I must say I feel it ought to remain that way. I hope that we can keep my involvement from the family, as it must give them great uneasiness to know of it, which can avail no one.”
“But surely, Mr. Darcy, one must give credit where credit is due.”
“I appreciate your thinking, of course” he replied, “but this must place them under a terrible, if misapplied, obligation; I would not have them think they owed me anything, when it has been all my own fault.” Of course Elizabeth was uppermost in his thoughts, but the battle must be fought on a larger field of interest.
Mr. Gardiner’s face grew grave. “Now, Mr, Darcy, I cannot but think that, no matter how burdensome, the truth would be best; better they should know their benefactor, surely.”
Darcy shook his head: “This could only create difficulty and pain, with no benefit to accrue: most certainly none to my side. I do not deserve their thanks, as I feel myself to have been the offending party, and would be just as uncomfortable in receiving them, as they would be in giving them. To whatever degree it is necessary to reveal what steps have been taken, I cannot but believe it would be best if you were to take responsibility, Mr. Gardiner, as that way it will be kept in the family, and we might put the best face on things: specifically, we can maintain the impression that Wickham meant to marry her all the while, in order that the couple might begin to reclaim somewhat of their reputation.”
“This goes too far,” Gardiner began, shaking his head. “I have already felt it wrong in me to have let the money matters go…” He was beginning to work himself into a more forceful and resolute
tone, but his wife hastily interceded: “Well, but this news will be such a blessing to the family; Elizabeth, I know, will feel it so especially,” she said, directing the last to her husband; she watched him for a moment, until a change in his temper revealed itself in his face. “I can scarcely imagine how relieved they will be,” she went on, still keeping a wary eye on Mr. Gardiner. “When shall we be able to tell them?”
Darcy embraced her change of subject, and looked enquiringly at Mr. Gardiner. “I should assume it will be possible to write them to-morrow with sufficient detail to ask for their acceptance and concurrence—would not you think?”
After a slight hesitation, Mr. Gardiner pursed his lips and blew out his breath. “No doubt,” he agreed, finally letting go his objection. “We need only ensure that all terms are properly laid out; my man of business can draw up the settlements once Mr. Bennet has agreed to the terms, and as the vicar has agreed to the wedding after seeing them at services twice, we might have the wedding as early as Monday the 25th.”
“Good Heavens,” said Mrs. Gardiner animatedly. “And it will happen that soon! Mr. Darcy, really, is there no way we might repay such kindness?”
Darcy shook his head. “Indeed, it would be quite out of my power to accept any such attempt,” said he.
“Well, we cannot force it on you,” said Mr. Gardiner, “and it appears pointless to try to press the matter, but know that we feel it, nonetheless—and thank you.” He extended a hand to Darcy, who took it gladly, expressing his own thanks most sincerely; the atmosphere cleared, and they were able to bring the discussion to a conclusion on terms of great mutual esteem and goodwill.
He was not to stay long after this, as he still had many things to see to before leaving for Pemberley on the morrow. After leaving the Gardiners, Darcy went back to Whitechapel to see how things stood, and be assured of Wickham’s removal the next day to the parish of St. Clements, where he was to take lodgings in Lombard street. He also enforced to Wickham that Lydia must be restrained from mentioning anything of Darcy’s involvement in the affair, pointing out to him how much to his advantage such disguise must be. “The thought we are to convey is that you were always honourably disposed towards their daughter,” he said. “That, in spite of a momentary deficiency of funds, you were always intending to wed; and, thanks to some minor assistance from Mr. Gardiner, all has been made easy. For her to reveal my part would be to reveal just how far from the truth this is, which would, of course, permanently injure you in their eyes.” Wickham promised to do all he could. Darcy was far from satisfied, but could think of nothing more to attempt.
Darcy then sat down with Corporal Sands, to toast their success.
“Wot now, Major?” the Corporal asked.
“I shall return to Derbyshire; but I wanted to ask, Corporal, is there any one amongst the men who could be trusted with Wickham in Newcastle? I have in mind something else for you.”
“Tewkes would be my first choice, but maybe you wouldn’t be wantin’ the man knowin’ ‘oo was watchin’ ‘im.”
Darcy said, “No, actually, we would want him to recognise a face: it would make it easier for the others, and serve to remind him; I think three men should do it: one known, and two unknown to him. But is Tewkes well enough?”
“Aye, ‘e will be,” nodded the Corporal. “Are you sure Colonel Fitzwilliam didn’t ‘ave any ‘and in this? A military way of thinkin’ must run in the family, Major.”
Darcy smiled, and shook his head. He said, “No, I must take the responsibility for this scheme. What I wanted to ask you, though, was whether you might be interested in being constable for the towns and villages near my estate. I recently have had a bit of trouble there which suggested to me that a man such as yourself would be uncommonly useful to have on view in that part of the country. A number of the local lads seem too disposed to take matters into their own hands, and I will not have that. Besides, you would be more or less centrally located to give Tewkes whatever assistance he needed in his task.”
“I might be interested, at that, Major,” the Corporal said. “There’s nothin’ to ‘old me ‘ere, and I never been to Derbyshire; ‘ow’s the beer?”
“Good,” said Darcy, grinning. “Our young women are pretty, too.”
“Aye, that’s it! A nice country lass to settle down wi’,” said the Corporal. Whistling and rubbing his hands together, he returned Darcy’s grin. “These ‘ere Town girls are a bit ‘ard for my tastes, if you know wot I mean,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, Major, let me just think about that, and I’ll let you know.”
“Do,” said Darcy, “I am sure it would be to both our advantages.”
The next morning the respective deliveries were made: Wickham was escorted to his new lodgings, and Darcy took Lydia to the Gardiner’s himself. Darcy took advantage of that trip to emphasise once again the importance of keeping his name out of the affair when speaking amongst her family, but he was fairly sure that she did not attend.
When they arrived at the Gracechurch-Street, the look with which Mrs. Gardiner greeted her niece was quite a masterpiece of censure and condemnation; Lydia, however, gave it no notice at all, smiling and greeting her relations with great energy and evident pleasure. Darcy reminded himself never to be amazed by impudence again: Darcy would have been reluctant to show his face, but here was Miss Lydia Bennet, perfectly at her ease, as though she had not just brought her entire family, the Gardiners included, to the brink of ruin merely for her own pleasure.
He left for Pemberley immediately after dropping off the young prodigal with her family. After an uneventful trip, his sister came to meet him before he was fairly descended from the carriage, demanding that he particularise very fully on the whole affair almost from the moment his feet touched the ground. He did so at length, again being mindful to withhold those details that must have given her pain.
When he had done, she said: “Then I trust is all well?”
“I believe so,” he replied. “I do not know what else I might do, short of putting the two of them in manacles for the next few weeks; the license is to be granted, and they will wed before the month is out; it helps that it is the Gardiner’s parish: that enabled him to smooth things over with the vicar. Miss Lydia Bennet is with her family, my men are keeping tabs of the fellow, the Colonel has procured the commission: all we need do is wait out the residence period.”
Georgiana sighed. “Does Miss Elizabeth Bennet know?”
“She must, by now. Mr. Gardiner was going send an express to her father the day before yesterday.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam, well done!” Georgiana smiled on him.
“Yes, I really believe it seems to be in hand. How do things stand here?”
“Things are quite well,” she replied easily. “There has been nothing to mar the last two weeks except your absence.”
“Very good. And our guests?”
“Every one is well, although Miss Bingley has daily bemoaned your absence, and cursed the Fates that led you away, and repined at length to any one who would listen; Miss Hartsbury has no patience with her.”
“And how do things stand between Miss Hartsbury and Sir Neville?” asked Darcy.
Georgiana eyes widened. “Dear me! I would not be surprised if they had had the banns read, themselves! I do like Lavinia, as I now call her, but honestly, Brother, I have to say she is…” here she hesitated. In a whisper she said, “Well, she is a bit fast!”
“Say rather, determined, and I should agree with you,” Darcy allowed. “I have known her three years, and this is the first time I have seen any eligible gentleman show an interest, let alone one who seems genuinely to esteem her. And given her uncle’s attitude towards the young men who venture to enter her ‘sphere’, as he puts it, to her it must seem to be a chance sent from Heaven. I think I can forgive her for wanting to snatch at love, rather than wait for the fullness of time.” Georgiana gave this consideration, and accepted it with a nod. Darcy continued, “But I am delighted
to hear they are getting on well; I had a bit of a hand in it, you know.”
“You did?”
Darcy told her the story of his dance with her at her ball, and the reasons behind Sir Neville’s invitation on their excursion.
Georgiana laughed at the story of the ball, then told him wonderingly, “You astound me, Brother—indeed you do; I should never have imagined you would ever do such a thing.”
“It seemed the thing to do at the time,” he said, “but I am rather surprised at it, myself. At least it seems to have worked out well. Now, Dearest, I should like to wash this dust off, and see our guests.”
Later that day, after he had had time to see every one and be welcomed back, he had the opportunity to tell his aunt how things stood in London, happy to assure her that the marriage seemed all but certain of completion; she congratulated him too, and with her he did not hold back on the various elements he had in place to control Wickham. Lady Andover seemed impressed: “Heavens, Darcy, you have gone to a great deal of trouble to make sure the thing lasts. Your friends would have been saved just as well by the marriage, even if Wickham did run off afterwards.”
“True,” Darcy acknowledged, “but he would only surface somewhere else, and I should have to go through all that trouble again. No, I wanted this over and done with.”
“Well, I should imagine this will do it; well done, my dear,” she said.
Darcy thanked her, as well as for her assistance in seeing to his guests in his absence. He retired early that evening, as it seemed forever since he had had a sound night’s sleep.
The next two weeks passed quickly, with a variety of activities that Darcy had not indulged himself in for some years: an excursion to the Peaks, and another to Dove Dale, riding, and even simply having the full and unfettered use of his own library; it had been a long while since he had been home long enough to appreciate it, and appreciate it he did. Master Pender left them within a few days of his return, and Lady Andover left just after, leaving behind Bingley and his sister, the courting couple, the Hursts, and Mr. Hartsbury. The latter made several references daily to the advisability of getting back to London, but his niece was deaf to them all; to Darcy it seemed that she was very pleased with herself, nor could he blame her; Sir Neville appeared to be just the foil she needed to ease her way through life and bring her fulfilment, and he was exceedingly happy for them, feeling, as he did, a not unreasonable degree of connexion to their happiness.
Darcy's Tale, Volume III_The Way Home Page 17
