by P. O. Dixon
It went without saying she did not want that scoundrel Mr. Wickham to have such unfettered access to her sister. The despicable man made a point of telling her that he would keep watch over her young sister should she travel to Brighton. The thought of his manner of watching Lydia threatened to bring on a bout of nausea. His words had been spoken with such unaffected sincerity, and yet, Elizabeth received them as contemptuous—even taunting.
Elizabeth fixed her eyes upon Darcy’s. “One would have to be blind not to notice how my sister flirts shamelessly with the officers. I have tried to tell my papa that Mrs. Forster, who is not much older than Lydia, is not the best person to be responsible for her whilst she is so far from the watchful eyes of her parents. He will not listen.”
Elizabeth turned away. “Papa credits Mr. Wickham with the same honourable intentions as he does Colonel Forster, and he will not hear a word from me to the contrary. Instead, he posits I am merely afraid my youngest sister might catch the eye of my favourite beau.”
The more Elizabeth insinuated her distrust of Mr. Wickham, the more convinced she was that Darcy knew that she knew what had happened in Ramsgate with young Georgiana Darcy. It was not so much what he said, but what he did not say, and how he did not say it. Anne had told her not to say anything to Darcy about having knowledge of the thwarted elopement, and of course Elizabeth certainly would not, unless he spoke of it. Then she would be obliged to tell him all Anne had told her.
“Well, I could help,” Darcy said. “I might speak with your father and advise him of the perils.”
Looking at him pleadingly, she said, “No, Mr. Darcy! I could never ask such a thing of you.”
“You did not ask. I volunteered. I shall speak with your father. As familiar as I am with Wickham’s character, I might be able to persuade your father towards a more prudent choice.”
Elizabeth furrowed her eyebrow. “I do not imagine any serious harm would come about, except my papa might regard your actions as officious. For you to subject yourself to such a scheme would be such an imposition, and I do not want to impose.”
“Miss Elizabeth, allow me to do this for you. It is the least I can do after interfering in Bingley’s relationship with your sister.”
“I assure you that reuniting Jane and Mr. Bingley is more than enough to make up for any earlier interference, sir.”
“On the contrary, Miss Elizabeth, what I did in telling Bingley the truth is nothing in comparison to all that I would do for you.”
Elizabeth smiled a little. Did he still hold her in as high esteem as his tender words signified?
Darcy said, “Perhaps I shall speak with Mr. Bennet after dinner this evening.”
Elizabeth’s heartbeat raced. “Oh, no, Mr. Darcy, it would not do to have you ask for a private audience with my papa when everyone is about.” My poor mamma would suffer a case of apoplexy, and you would suffer her attention. “My mamma and my sisters will be out in the morning. If you are determined to speak with my papa, you might call on him then—but again, I will understand completely should you decide to change your mind.”
Darcy placed his finger upon Elizabeth’s lips—a warm, soothing panacea for her mounting apprehensions. “I shall handle this.”
Chapter 13
Darcy stood just outside the library door whilst the servant announced him to Mr. Bennet.
“Are you certain he wants to see me, Hill?”
“Indeed, sir. The gentleman was quite adamant.”
“Very well—show him in,” said Mr. Bennet, hesitation with a hint of resignation evident in his voice.
The servant stepped into the hallway and bowed. “Mr. Bennet will see you, sir.”
Darcy nodded and entered the room.
Mr. Bennet walked towards him with an extended hand. After they shook hands, Mr. Bennet said, “Mr. Darcy, your calling on me this morning is an auspicious occasion. I would offer you a drink for no doubt gentlemen of your ilk have no qualms against imbibing at such an early hour, but I suppose my brandy falls short of your exacting standards.”
Darcy waved off the older man’s quip. A quick glance about the untidy library confirmed what he was up against. Stacks of spine-broken books, many of them spread opened, loitered the side tables and the floors. “Thank you for seeing me, sir. I shall not take much of your time.”
The aging patriarch peered over his glasses once more. “Where is your friend Bingley?”
“Bingley remains at Netherfield. I desire a private audience with you.”
Mr. Bennet arched his bushy grey eyebrow. “Oh! Are you here in the young man’s stead—to request my eldest daughter’s hand in marriage on his behalf?”
“Actually, sir, my purpose in being here regards another of your daughters.”
The older gentleman reared his head. His mouth fell open. His expression twisted from amusement in having attempted to unsettle Darcy to genuine concern—the change certainly did not bode well, in Darcy’s opinion. Rarely had the two gentlemen had anything of substance to say to each other. Darcy whispered a silent prayer.
Mr. Bennet walked to his desk and sat in his worn leather arm chair. He gestured towards a chair on the opposite side. “Have a seat, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy did as he was bid and wasted not a moment on idle pleasantries. He doubted whether it would make a difference given the sarcastic manner of Mr. Bennet’s greeting. Men like Mr. Bennet delighted in their ability to rattle others with their wry wit and humour. Darcy was not to be ridiculed.
Darcy sat straight in his chair. “Sir, there is no delicate way to frame this discussion. It has to do with the militia’s pending decampment to Brighton. Your youngest daughter, Miss Lydia’s, invitation to accompany Colonel Forster and his wife to Brighton is no secret. When I learnt of it, I knew I would be remiss if I did not make you privy to information I am sure any father would want to know before agreeing to such a scheme.”
“Wait one minute, young man. I am not so terribly ignorant of the recent comings and goings of the members of this household as not to know you and my daughter Lizzy spend a great deal of time in each other’s company, what with your friendship with Bingley and her concern for Jane. I know Lizzy is apprehensive about the prospect of Lydia being exposed to temptation so far away from home. As I have told Lizzy, Lydia is just as likely to make a spectacle of herself here as in Brighton. An unfounded concern over the company she might keep is no reason to deny her the opportunity to travel and enjoy other parts of the country.”
“Sir, Miss Elizabeth is concerned and with good reason. The nature of the company your daughter is likely to keep whilst in Brighton is enough to concern anyone.”
“I will tell you just what I told my daughter. I trust Colonel Forster to do a respectable job of looking after Lydia. He is more than capable of making certain she does not get into any trouble.”
“I do not doubt Colonel Forster is an honourable man, with good intentions, but I dare say his responsibilities preclude him from giving your daughter the type of supervision a young girl of fifteen ought to have when she is so far from home and away from her parents.”
“I rely not only upon Colonel Forster and his wife to make certain Lydia comes to no harm, for I have Mr. Wickham’s avowal as well. As much as you do not like Mr. Wickham, I assure you that I have met few gentlemen as fine as he or whose character I admire more.”
“In the case of Mr. Wickham, I assure you, sir, his true nature is far different from what he presents to the people of Hertfordshire.”
Mr. Bennet peered over his glasses. “You are one to talk, Mr. Darcy. By the by, when did you ever care one fig for the people of Hertfordshire? You have made yourself disagreeable to everyone whom you have met, whereas Mr. Wickham is charming and amiable. There is not a single person of my acquaintance who speaks ill of him. What is more, in all my dealings with him, I have never seen him show the slightest interest in my youngest daughter.
“You understand better than most people that Mr. Wickham is a man w
ithout the means to support himself in the way of life to which he was accustomed before your father’s passing, and thus he must marry a woman of considerable wealth. I have no reason to suppose his intentions towards any of my daughters would be founded upon anything more than politeness and flattery for which gallant young officers are renowned.”
Darcy swallowed hard. “Sir, I have no knowledge of what Wickham might have told you as regards his former way of life. However, as it pertains to his former advantageous situation at Pemberley, my late father did intend that the living in Kympton should go to Mr. Wickham. Mr. Wickham did not want it. He came to me after my father’s passing and demanded the value of the living instead—which I gave him. The man is not fit for the clergy.”
“I am afraid Mr. Wickham has a different account of why the living in Kympton he ought to have had was denied to him, but it is beside the point. I do not hold the man’s lack of fortune or his lack of prospects against him.”
Mr. Bennet cocked his eye at Darcy. “You may very well take offence, sir, but I do not judge a man by his financial worth, but rather by his deeds, and as I said, Mr. Wickham has always comported himself as a gentleman in my home. His word is his bond. I shall not entertain unsubstantiated accounts of his lack of integrity from the man who would be his worst enemy.”
“Why would I take offence? George Wickham is no friend of mine, but I do not credit him enough to consider him an enemy. I beg you, sir, not to let your reservations towards me prevent you from hearing what I have to say about Wickham and why it would be unwise to allow your young daughter to be exposed to the likes of him outside the sanctuary of your home.” Darcy stood and marched to the hearth. He silently debated just how much of his personal business he would discuss with a man whose prejudice caused Darcy to question his sensibilities. Deciding to cast aside his own reservations for Elizabeth’s sake, Darcy pressed forward.
He turned and faced Mr. Bennet. “Mr. Wickham has shown himself to be vile and contemptible where innocent young ladies are concerned. I speak from personal experience, for the man attempted to take advantage of a member of my own family—to elope with her under the cover of darkness.”
Mr. Bennet rested his elbows on his desk, steepled his hands, and began tapping his fingers. “A member of your own family, you say. Then that would certainly suggest the young woman was someone of substantial means. As I said, my Lydia can have nothing to tempt a young man whose primary aim is financial security.”
Darcy fought the urge to chastise Elizabeth’s father. Did he truly need to state the obvious? Was the gentleman before him so oblivious of the temptations his youngest daughter presented to men of Wickham’s ilk?
Mr. Bennet stood. “Mr. Wickham has demonstrated his character to me. That is not to say he is without fault, for no man is perfect. Besides, my decision on whether or not to allow my youngest daughter to accept the Forsters’ invitation to travel with them to Brighton does not rest on the presence of a single officer in the colonel’s regiment. No—I have long believed young Lydia is far too impressed with the notion of her importance. I feel this might be just the opportunity she needs to teach her of her own insignificance.”
He walked over to the door and threw it open. “Have a fine day, Mr. Darcy.”
*
Earlier in the morning, Elizabeth had gone from feigning disinterest in how long her mother and three younger sisters might dillydally about the house before setting off for a morning of shopping in Meryton, to pretending not to be concerned over if and when Mr. Darcy would arrive at Longbourn to speak with her father.
Eagerness to know what the two gentlemen were discussing, combined with anxiety that things were not faring well, consumed her as she paced back and forth just around the corner from her father’s library for what seemed like hours. The crashing sound of the door opening and her father’s voice bidding Mr. Darcy a good day, prompted her to duck inside the adjacent room.
Standing behind the partially closed door and peeking through, Elizabeth spoke urgently, yet softly. “Mr. Darcy—”
He turned in the direction of her voice. She opened the door just enough to wave him inside. Befuddled, he entered the room. Elizabeth quickly closed the door.
“Miss Elizabeth, from whom are we hiding?”
“Mr. Darcy, do not tease me. You must know I am eager to hear everything you and Papa discussed. I have been pacing back and forth all this time. Please, end my suspense.”
Darcy walked over to the window seat and sat down. “Well, I do not know if my talk with your father helped. He is a staunch defender of Mr. Wickham, and despite my telling him of Wickham’s revolting propensities, he is persuaded the man has no interest whatsoever in your youngest sister.”
“How can my papa ignore your warnings, especially since—”
His voice stern, Darcy said, “Especially since what, Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth looked away. Perhaps Mr. Darcy did not relay to her father the sordid details of Wickham’s dealing with his sister.
Darcy stood. “You know about Wickham and Georgiana—I suspected as much when you expressed your misgivings about him yesterday. Did my cousin Richard tell you?”
“No—no, it was not the colonel.”
“Who else knows? Surely Wickham did not tell you, and you have yet to meet Georgiana.”
“Mr. Darcy, it was Anne. Anne told me.”
His eyes shot wide open. “Anne knows what happened in Ramsgate!” Darcy rubbed his fingers against his temple. “How could she know? And why on earth did she confide such a closely guarded secret to you?”
Elizabeth outstretched her hand. “You must not blame Anne or attribute to her any foul intentions. She and I were discussing Mr. Wickham’s being in Hertfordshire. She merely wanted to illustrate his character so I might exercise precaution where my sisters and I are concerned. She did not want to tell you because she did not want you to worry that Georgiana’s secret was widely known. She swore me to secrecy, as well. Aside from this discussion with you, I have never uttered a single word of it to anyone—save Jane. She will not breathe a word of it. You need not worry, Mr. Darcy.”
“No—no, I am not worried you would tell anyone who does not need to know. As for my telling your father, I confess I told him only enough of the story to prove my point. Still, it was all in vain. For what it is worth, I do not think your father has made up his mind one way or the other. Although, if I were a betting man, I would wager he is leaning towards allowing your sister to go. He even said she might learn from the experience. I am sorry.”
“No—you have no reason to apologise, Mr. Darcy. You did what you could to persuade my papa against this folly.” Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her head. “He said as much to me. He even implied the family would have no peace if he were to deny Lydia’s entreaties. It seems that finding peace and quiet is preferable to attending his responsibilities as a parent.”
Elizabeth did not mean to be critical of her dearly loved father, but this was Mr. Darcy with whom she was speaking. He, more than anyone else, knew and understood her predicament. How truthful he had been about her family’s shortcomings! For the first time, she was beginning to comprehend his motives in attempting to save his friend from such an alliance—well, almost.
“Miss Elizabeth—”
Looking up, Elizabeth read genuine concern etched across his face. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy, for making an effort to help my papa reach a sound decision. The rest is up to him. I shall not continue to be vexed about a situation that might never come to be—rather, I shall hope for the best.”
Darcy smiled and placed his hand upon her shoulder. “Now, there is the young woman whose spirit encourages me to face each day with hope and conviction.”
“Hope and conviction, Mr. Darcy? What have I done to inspire such sentiments?”
Darcy brushed his hand under her chin. “I think you know.”
How soft and tender his touch. Shudders of excitement cascaded deep insi
de her. Determined to ignore his ever-increasing power over her sensibilities, Elizabeth smiled faintly and walked over to the sofa where she took a seat. Darcy followed her, seating himself at the opposite end. Still needing something—anything—she might grab hold of to rescue her from the flood of emotions his touch unleashed, she picked up a pillow and hugged it against her.
Whilst she fussed with the tassels, she said, “I suppose Mr. Bingley will be along shortly to call on Jane.”
“I suppose he will.”
“Perhaps we shall all enjoy another leisurely walk to Oakham Mount.”
“Perhaps we shall.”
“Mr. Darcy, you must say something other than repeat my words.”
Smiling mischievously, then biting and wetting his lower lip, he looked at her intently and said, “Tell me what you would like most for me to say.”
“To start, please tell me that you do not fault Anne for telling me your sister’s secret.”
“I do not fault her.”
“Will you promise not to tell her that you and I have spoken about this?”
“I make no promises; however, I will not be the one who first mentions it—if that helps.”
“Do I have your word?”
“You have my word.” Darcy shrugged. “I fail to understand why you are concerned I might discuss this matter with my cousin.”
“She confided in me and she asked me to share the story with no one. I would not want her thinking I betrayed her.” Elizabeth looked at the clock. “What time do you expect Mr. Bingley to arrive? If he is expected soon, perhaps we should go to the other drawing room and wait for him.”
“Is there any reason we should not remain here whilst we wait, Miss Elizabeth?”
Other than the obvious impropriety of the two of us being alone? Then again, she and Darcy were no strangers to such intimate encounters: the library at Netherfield Park, the afternoon at the Parsonage during the violent thunderstorm, long walks about the beautiful lanes of Rosings Park, that day at the temple. Recalling herself to the present and looking around, Elizabeth said, “This room is rarely used. Should Mr. Bingley arrive earlier than expected, no one would think to look for me here.”
