“Charlotte’s wedding is to be a simple affair with only family and close friends invited to the wedding breakfast. Mr. Collins said that Lady Catherine is insisting that a habit of economy be established from the very start, and I think it is what Charlotte prefers. You know she does not like being the center of attention.”
“True enough. So, tell me, how do things go with Mr. Bingley?”
Even in the dimly lit room, Lizzy could see her sister’s smile. “I think about Charles all day long, and I want to be with him all the time. I will be very happy when our wedding day has come. He is only gone to London for a few days, but I miss him terribly.”
“Jane, has Charles ever kissed you?”
“Yes, but ever so briefly, because Mary and Kitty or Mama are always about, and it is the same at Netherfield. Although the Crenshaw twins have been sent to boarding school in Scotland, their mother and the other children are always about. Charles does write very nice love letters intimating that he wishes we had more time together alone, but that is it. Why are you asking? Have you been kissed?”
“Yes, I have. Truthfully, I do not know what I was expecting a kiss to feel like, but it was better than anything I could have ever imagined. When Mr. Darcy swept me up in his arms, I felt a sensation that went throughout my body, and I have to admit that it was most pleasant.”
“Oh, Lizzy, I am so happy to hear that you found it to be pleasant. I have to admit I am a little nervous about my wedding night. It is so strange to me that something that is absolutely forbidden to me on Friday will be required of me on Saturday. And it is not as if I do not know what is going to happen. After all, we do live on a farm. I just do not know how it all comes about and what is required of me.”
“I do not think all that much will be required of you, Jane. When Mr. Darcy kissed me, he held me so closely that I felt something hard against me that had not been there a minute before.”
“What was it?”
“A bedpost.” And the two sisters exploded into laughter. “Other than kissing him, I did nothing. It seems to be a miracle of Nature, and one that comes in a goodly size.”
“Lizzy, I cannot believe you are saying these things, but I am glad you are. All I know is that when Charles kisses me, it is not enough. I want more.”
“Well, no need to worry, Jane, because I am quite sure Mr. Bingley will be happy to oblige.”
Although Mercer had done everything he could to expedite the journey, there was no avoiding the stops necessary to change the horses. The carriage had to be checked to make sure a wheel wasn’t loose or an axle bent, calls of Nature answered, and simple meals eaten as well. But when they arrived in Brighton shortly after 10:00 in the morning, nine hours behind Gregg, his efforts were rewarded. As soon as Darcy entered the colonel’s residence, he was immediately reassured by Colonel Forster that Wickham’s plans had been thwarted, and after receiving such information, Darcy asked Mercer to see to the drivers and to get some rest.
“My aide will assist you in that,” and the colonel ordered Lieutenant Dickinson to take the men to the kitchen for a large bowl of Mrs. Grant’s soup and the meat pies she had prepared for them. “I have ordered supper for you as well, but I am sure you are eager to have a report on Miss Lydia and Wickham.”
As soon as the colonel had finished reading the letter from Darcy, a search for Wickham had been undertaken, and he was found within the hour at a sporting house. The next morning, Wickham had been interrogated by the colonel, but denied any plans to leave Brighton with Lydia, insisting that all he had done was to renew an acquaintance that he had formed while encamped near Meryton. When confronted with details of assignations provided by Lydia and documented in her diary, Wickham admitted he had had some harmless fun with the girl. However, he continued to insist his purpose had never been the seduction of one so young and concluded by saying that he had never intended to marry Lydia Bennet.
At that point, the colonel had stood up and said, “That is the first statement you have made that I actually believe.” After informing him that he was confined to quarters indefinitely, Colonel Forster left.
“The long and the short of it, Mr. Darcy, is that your letter prevented Wickham from carrying out his plans. When Miss Lydia came down to breakfast this morning, her room was searched, and an overnight bag was found. When asked for an explanation, she revealed all. She was actually quite proud that she had been able to secure the affections of such an admirable fellow. Even after we told her unequivocally that he had said it was never his intention to marry her, she just laughed, explaining that was what he had to say in order to protect his position in the regiment. To my utter astonishment, she actually thinks our discovery of her plans merely delays the marriage, and the nuptials will take place quickly ‘now that everything is out in the open.’”
From the room above, a loud cry could be heard, and Darcy looked to the colonel for an explanation. “That is our young lady grieving for her lover. That caterwauling has been going on all morning. ‘My dear Wickham,’ she cries, ‘when will you come for me?’ She sobs and moans for about fifteen minutes and then takes a rest before starting up again. My wife attempted to console her, but because she is with child, her nerves were fraying. So she has departed and our housemaid, the poor girl, is sitting in the room with Miss Lydia.”
“Thank you, Colonel, for your quick response. You have saved that girl from certain ruin,” Darcy said, standing up. “I believe her father is on the road to Brighton as we speak, but since I have no way of knowing when he will arrive, I intend to talk to Miss Lydia after I have eaten and have had the use of a wash basin. The young lady needs to know Wickham’s history, and although I doubt it will do much good, she will hear it.”
Lydia looked startled when the maid opened the door to reveal Mr. Darcy. She had heard the colonel talking to someone, but when she did not recognize the voice, she assumed it was one of the soldiers who had been running back and forth to headquarters. The colonel had told her he was not budging from the house until he had safely delivered her to her father. He had then droned on about “a betrayal of trust and violating the rules of hospitality,” and other such drivel. Didn’t the old goat remember what it was like to be in love, especially since he had married a woman half his age?
Grabbing a wooden chair from the hallway, Darcy brought it into the room and sat opposite to Lydia, and he thought what a little shit she was. There wasn’t an ounce of remorse in her demeanor. Instead, she was trying to defiantly stare him down, and he wanted to laugh—he of the furrowed brow, steel gray eyes, and look of thunder yielded to no one—except Elizabeth.
“Let us get right to business, Miss Lydia. First, if you intend to reproduce the hysterical crying I heard when I first entered this house, your confinement will continue, and I am sure that at this point it is getting rather close in here.”
“You can’t talk to me like that,” Lydia said, outraged. “You are not my father, and you are not my guardian. I know about these things because my uncle is a solicitor.”
“Secondly, I see you have not eaten your breakfast,” he said, looking at the untouched tray on the side table. “There are three hungry men in the kitchen who have been traveling for more than a day because of your thoughtless actions, and they will be glad to have the extra rations. Of course, that means you will go without any nourishment until breakfast.”
“Mr. Wickham told me how arrogant you were and how you denied him his proper inheritance,” Lydia said, practically spitting out the words, “and he warned me that everything that comes out of your mouth when talking about him are lies.”
“Lies. That is a good place to start because, Miss Lydia, you have been used most grievously. You have your sisters to thank for your rescue. When Jane read of Wickham’s excessive attention to you, she wrote to Elizabeth at Pemberley. Unfortunately for Wickham, but fortunately for you, I knew the truth about his meanness of character.”
Lydia turned her back to him and went to the window.
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“And I have the documents to prove it, and since you have a solicitor in the family, he may wish to examine the receipt for three thousand pounds paid to Wickham by me in lieu of a living or another receipt for one thousand pounds as settlement of my father’s will. That is a lot of money, Miss Lydia. Where is it?”
Lydia turned to face him, and he could see by the look on her face that he had succeeded in planting seeds of doubt. But a defiant Lydia insisted that she would have married him anyway.
“You see, Miss Lydia, the problem is, he would never have married you. You do not solve his problems. He is knee deep in debt, and if the colonel cannot bring charges against him, he will turn him over to the debtors’ courts. Since he has no way of coming up with the many hundreds of pounds he owes, probably just here in Brighton alone, he will be sent to debtors’ prison. Wives are allowed to join their husbands if they can pay for their board, but I would not recommend it. Marshalsea Prison is right on the Thames, and it gets very cold there, and the dampness creeps right into your bones.”
The only other time Darcy remembered being this fatigued was when he had received word that his father had died. Richard and he had been on the Grand Tour, and they were making their way south through France with a destination of Nice when the news had reached him. With his sister’s wellbeing in mind, Darcy had made record time in reaching the port of Calais, but then there was still the Channel crossing and the long journey to Derbyshire. When he had finally arrived, he was unshaven, bedraggled, and in need of a bath, much as he was now. Thank goodness he was back in his own home, and he would shortly be asleep in his own bed.
“Will, let me have Mercer draw you a bath,” Georgiana said to her brother, who was slumped in a leather chair in the study, saying he was too dirty to sit anywhere else.
“No. Please don’t. He is more tired than I am.”
“Then I shall ask Rogers.”
“No, first I want to have something to eat, then a bath, and then I am to bed, hopefully, until late tomorrow morning. I am weary to the bone. I do not even know how long it has been since I left Pemberley.”
“This is the sixth day since you departed, but tell me what happened in Brighton. Hopefully, you were in time.”
“We were in time. When I left Miss Lydia, she was sobbing in her father’s arms. Mr. Bennet was very grateful for my intervention, but all he wanted to do was to get his daughter home. I assume your return to London was uneventful?”
“Perfectly so,” Georgiana answered. “The three of us left the day after you did. Richard has returned to his regiment, and as for Antony, well, he is staying here—not permanently, of course, but please allow me to explain.”
“Please do.” Darcy was so tired he did not have the energy to protest.
“Before leaving London, Antony hired an agent to find someone to take up the lease on the townhouse, and in the short time we were gone, the agent found someone—a Mr. Whitby. Antony says he’s as rich as Croesus and made his money in hemp, whatever that means.”
“Whitby supplies the Royal Navy with much of its rope. Through Bingley’s financial advisor, you and I are venturers in his concern, and he has done very well by us.”
“Antony said he asked a ridiculous amount for the lease, and Mr. Whitby did not bat an eye when the agent mentioned the amount of the rent. They are to go to Briarwood, and our dear cousin is hoping the gentleman will buy the manor house. I received Mr. Whitby here for dinner, and I watched as Antony shamelessly told that unsuspecting man that he could not part with the Fitzwilliam estate unless he knew it was in good hands. With tears in his eyes, he explained what a great loss it would be for him and his family, when you and I know he would walk away from it if a buyer could be found who would provide for the servants and settle his accounts.”
Darcy did not care if Antony sold Briarwood. The house was an architectural hybrid combining Jacobean and Georgian elements and doing justice to neither. Antony had once compared it to one of the Prince of Wales’s rejected mistresses: no longer young, beautiful, or wanted.
“But Antony is looking for other accommodations? Yes?”
“Yes. He said he could not live with you as you remind him too much of his mother.”
“Good. Anything else I should know?”
“Have you heard about the king?”
“What about the king?” Darcy asked, but he already knew the answer. If Georgiana had heard of the madness of King George, then so had everyone else.
Georgiana had first heard the whispers and rumors during a stop at an inn north of town, which meant that the news had already spread into the suburbs and surrounding countryside. By the time the travelers had reached London, pamphlets depicting the king as nearly blind and completely mad were being sold on the streets.
Many were predicting that as soon as the prince was named regent there would be a major shift in the political landscape. Although it was true that the prince was more liberal than his father, once the Prince of Wales became regent, Darcy believed that he would see things differently. Power was intoxicating, and history had proved that monarchs never seemed to have enough of it.
“There have already been a few changes,” Georgiana said, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I might as well tell you now, Will. Sir John was here yesterday. Fortunately for me, so was Antony.”
Darcy sat up in his chair. “Is he still angry with me?”
“To the contrary, he said he was looking forward to having vigorous debates with you, and that he was not so set in his ways that he could not learn a thing or two from a younger man.”
Darcy burst into laughter. The thought of Sir John, a dyed-in-the-wool Tory, listening to anything he had to say was a bright spot in an otherwise gray landscape.
“Sir John is willing to be educated by me! I would sooner believe the prince had taken a vow of chastity,” and he continued to laugh to himself. “Just think of the irony, Georgie. Lydia Bennet goes to Brighton, delaying my return to London just long enough so that, in Sir John’s eyes, I go from being an arrogant whippersnapper who is courting revolution to someone he wants to exchange ideas with.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I am going to go to bed, and tomorrow I will visit with Miss Montford or her father and advise them of my intention to withdraw from whatever they thought I had been doing.”
“I do not think you should go to see either Montford tomorrow. You will still be very tired, and Antony says Sir John can be very abrasive and is known to shout when he does not get his way.”
“That is excellent advice, and I shall take it. But I shall delay no longer than that as every day I do keeps me from Elizabeth. At this point, I do not even care what Sir John or anyone else thinks or says about me. Besides, I deserve it. The only thing I have done right since I met Elizabeth was to go to Longbourn to apologize for being an arrogant… Well, an unpleasant fellow. Since that time, it has been a comedy of errors, and it must come to an end.”
Georgiana could hardly bear to think of someone speaking ill of her brother. But then an idea came to her that would avoid putting Will’s good name at risk. While her brother rested, she would go to see Miss Montford, and during her visit, what could be more natural than to have the names of one’s friends come up in conversation? Georgiana smiled at the thought of how Miss Caroline Bingley might actually end up facilitating the union of her brother and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
While preparing for her visit with Miss Montford, Georgiana thought about the differences between the two families. While the Montfords refused to associate with people like the Bingleys, the Darcys befriended them. She understood from Will that this was a recent change, which had begun when their father had invited members from the Lunar Society to Pemberley. The elder Mr. Darcy had so admired these men of science that their modest beginnings were of no importance to him, but such changes took time, as was demonstrated by her brother’s attentions to Miss Montford. He had only singled her out because he wanted Geo
rgiana to make an advantageous match from among England’s elite families, and that required that he make a good match himself. But his sacrifice would have been too great. Why should he forego his own happiness for the sake of hers?
When the hackney came to a stop in front of the Montford house, Rogers took Miss Darcy’s card and presented it to the butler. It was a long while before Rogers returned with permission for Georgiana to come in, and when she went into the parlor, she was greeted by Mrs. Redford, Letitia’s companion.
“Miss Darcy, how good of you to call. Unfortunately, Miss Montford is unwell today, and she could not receive you personally. However, she suggested that I visit with you.”
What Mrs. Redford could not say was that when Letitia had learned that Miss Darcy was waiting in her carriage, she had refused to receive her because she was afraid that action might prompt her brother to call as well.
Georgiana suspected there was nothing wrong with Letitia that her departure would not cure. This was very disappointing because her plan could not go forward without Letitia. After pleasantries were exchanged, Mrs. Redford asked the purpose of Georgiana’s call.
“I am having a few friends to tea this week, and I thought Miss Montford would like to meet them.”
“That is very thoughtful of you, Miss Darcy. Was it your intention to tell Miss Montford who you would be inviting?”
Was that a leading question, Georgiana wondered? It certainly sounded like one.
“Perhaps you were thinking of inviting Mr. Bingley’s sisters,” Mrs. Redford said, trying to help Georgiana along.
“Yes, as a matter of fact I was. Miss Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Louisa Hurst would be two of my guests.”
This was very good news, Mrs. Redford thought. Letitia had been greatly upset by Mr. Darcy’s alarming revelation that he considered Mr. Bingley to be a gentleman and his sisters genteel.
A Wife for Mr. Darcy Page 19
