Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 1

by Jennifer Lang

  ‘Are you always so silent when dancing?’ asked Miss Elizabeth.

  Her tone of voice was not friendly and he wondered what Wickham had been saying about him. Telling her lies, he supposed, or half truths, to make her hate him. It was Wickham’s way with women. He preyed upon their tender hearts like a proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  Her next words proved how accurate his fears had been, for her remarks showed him that Wickham had told her about the living. What he had not told her was that his behaviour made him unsuited to the church as a profession. No one who had seen Wickham drinking and wenching at university, and afterwards, could have thought him a good candidate for a clergyman. But of course Wickham had not told her this, and Darcy did not feel he could talk of it to a lady.

  He felt his dislike of Wickham growing.

  They tried two or three subjects without success and their conversation came to an end. The dance, too, ended, and Elizabeth escaped with evident satisfaction, and joined Mr Wickham again.

  Darcy longed for the evening to end. It was torture to watch her with Wickham, but somehow he could not look away.

  As he watched them, he found himself wondering where Wickham had found the money to buy such an expensive suit of clothes.

  The answer came the following day.

  Chapter Six

  Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley were to dine with Colonel Forster and some of the other officers. Mr Bingley’s sisters had invited Miss Bennet to join them in the gentlemen’s absence. Miss Bennet arrived before the gentlemen left. She apologised but said that she had been ready early and so she had set out, for it looked like rain. Her decision had been a good one, for the rain started shortly after she arrived and so she had escaped a wetting, which could easily have led to a bad cold.

  Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley left Netherfield Park at five o’clock and joined the male group in Meryton shortly afterwards.

  Colonel Forster was a sensible man who knew a great deal about the war against Napoleon, and as the gentlemen ate, they discussed the war. But after dinner, as they sat over their port, the conversation turned to more domestic matters.

  ‘I am glad you took Netherfield Park, Mr Bingley,’ said Colonel Forster. ‘It is good for us to have a noble house which is occupied in the neighbourhood. I hear you are thinking of holding a ball.’

  ‘I believe I will,’ said Mr Bingley.

  ‘I hope you will invite the officers?’

  ‘Of course, you will be very welcome. And, if rumour is correct, we will soon be welcoming a Mrs Forster in our midst.’

  Colonel Forster smiled and sat back in his chair, his red coat and gold epaulettes glowing in the candlelight.

  ‘If the lady accepts my hand, then yes, you will. I only wish there was more company for her here. There are a lot of unmarried young ladies, but no newly married matrons with whom she might become friends. I am trying to persuade George Wickham to bring his wife to Meryton. He seems settled here for the time being, but he says that she does not like to travel and that she is settled at their home in the country.’

  ‘Wife?’ exploded Darcy.

  ‘Yes,’ said Colonel Forster, looking at him in surprise. ‘A most charming young woman. My intended went to the seminary with Mrs Wickham, which is how she learnt of the marriage. Surely you knew about it? I thought you and Wickham grew up together.’

  Darcy had by this time mastered himself. The shock had been intense but he knew better than to let it show. There was some mystery here. If Wickham had married, why had he not said anything about it? Why had he come into the neighbourhood as if he were unattached – for, if the Colonel’s lady love had not happened to know Mrs Wickham, then the marriage would never have been discovered. And why had Wickham not brought his wife with him?

  But it might not be the same Mr and Mrs Wickham, Darcy realised quickly. The name was not uncommon and perhaps that had led to some confusion. He must learn more before committing himself to any rash words or actions.

  He could say no more at the moment, for he did not want to reveal that Wickham’s marriage was unknown to him – if indeed it turned out to be the same Mr and Mrs Wickham.

  Luckily, one of the other officers asked when the Netherfield ball would take place and the conversation moved on.

  But once Darcy and Bingley were alone, going home after the dinner, Bingley said, ‘Do you think Colonel Forster can be right about Wickham? Can he really be married?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Darcy admitted.

  ‘If so, he shouldn’t be paying so much attention to Miss Elizabeth,’ said Bingley with a worried frown. ‘I hope he won’t hurt her feelings. Anything that hurts Miss Elizabeth will hurt Jane, and I could not bear for her to be unhappy.’

  ‘Jane?’ queried Mr Darcy, with a lift of his eyebrows.

  ‘I mean Miss Bennet,’ said Mr Bingley hastily. Then, after a pause, he said, ‘What do you think of her, Darcy? Is she not an angel.’

  ‘She is certainly very beautiful,’ Darcy agreed.

  ‘She is more than beautiful. She is sweet and kind and quite the most wonderful woman I have ever met.’

  ‘I hope you will not raise expectations,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘It would be cruel to trifle with her affections.’

  ‘I have no intention of trifling with them!’ said Mr Bingley, affronted. ‘I am thinking of proposing.’

  ‘Bingley, you go too fast. You have only known her a few weeks, and in that time you have only seen her on a few occasions. It will take much longer before you can decide on such an important subject. But I would caution you not to try too hard to like her. Her family are beneath you, you know.’

  ‘I don’t care a fig for her family,’ said Bingley with unusual spirit.

  ‘Well, take my advice all the same and proceed with caution. You do not want to harm her reputation if you should find, after a few weeks more, that she is not the wife for you, after all.’

  ‘Oh, very well, I will do nothing to arouse any expectations.’

  ‘Good. That is all I ask,’ said Mr Darcy.

  ‘But what do you think about Wickham?’ asked Bingley, returning to their earlier topic of conversation. ‘Do you really think he is married?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘But I intend to find out. I will travel to London tomorrow and make enquiries. Why don’t you come with me? You can attend to any matters of business that you have outstanding, and some distance will help you to see your feelings for Miss Bennet in a clearer manner.’

  ‘I think you are right. Though I do not want to be away from her, perhaps it will be a good thing. If the separation makes my feelings stronger, than I truly believe I will speak to her.’

  ‘There is no need to think so far ahead,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘Only come with me to London tomorrow and then see what you want to do next.’

  ‘There is the ball . . . ’ said Mr Bingley with a frown.

  ‘Your sisters can see to all the arrangements, and you will be back in time for the ball itself. As the invitations have not yet been sent, you can hold it a week later than you originally intended. By the time you return your feelings will be fixed one way or the other.’

  Privately, Mr Darcy thought that his friend’s easy going temperament would allow him to forget Miss Bennet very quickly, once he was no longer in her company.

  But Darcy knew he would not so easily forget Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth! He had chastised Bingley for referring to Miss Bennet as Jane, and yet he himself thought of her sister as only Elizabeth, and not Miss Elizabeth.

  He could feel his emotions deepening every day. She had bewitched him. He could not stop thinking about her. But now, to his jealousies and his anger with himself for speaking of her so slightingly to begin with, he had another anxiety to add.

  What if George was truly married? In a way it would make things easier, because Elizabeth must surely be disgusted with George if she discovered the truth.

  Or perhaps not. Perhaps she thought his attentions were merely a m
ild flirtation, acceptable even in a married man.

  But what if she were falling in love with George?

  The thought hit him hard in many different ways. If so, he would be devastated. He would also be jealous and angry with Wickham. But, more than that, if she was falling in love with Wickham then she would end up being hurt and that was the thing he could not forgive Wickham for, above all others.

  He could not bear to see Elizabeth hurt.

  ‘Well, Lizzy, Mr Wickham paid you marked attention again at Sir William Lucas’s, and when he dined with us,’ said Mrs Bennet. ‘I am sure he will make you an offer before long. And Mr Bingley will propose to Jane, too, I am sure.’

  ‘Mama, you must not let your imagination run away with you,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘It is not my imagination. Everyone is talking about it.’ She became thoughtful. ‘Although, there were some people who thought Mr Darcy might be taking an interest in you.’

  ‘Mr Darcy has no interest in me, other than to criticise, you may depend upon it,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘I am not so sure, Lizzy,’ said Charlotte Lucas, who was paying the Bennets a visit. ‘Mr Darcy danced with you at our house and he did not dance with anyone else.’

  ‘Only because your father asked him to!’ said Lizzy with a laugh.

  But although she treated the matter lightly, she had felt humiliated when Sir William had all but begged Mr Darcy to dance with her. She had expected Mr Darcy to look down his nose at her and make some scathing comment, followed by a refusal, but he had surprised her by acceding to Sir William’s wishes.

  She still did not know why. It was not as though he had any pleasure in her company. He had scarcely talked to her. But there had been something . . . . she tried to force the feeling down but it would not go away. She felt a sense of connection with him.

  Abominable man! She did not want to feel a sense of connection with him. She wanted to think of Mr Wickham only. Mr Wickham was everything that was amiable.

  ‘Well, perhaps you are right,’ said Charlotte. ‘Great men like Mr Darcy often do things on a whim. Perhaps that is why he danced with you. Perhaps it was just a whim.’

  ‘I think it must have been,’ said Mary, Elizabeth’s moralising sister. ‘I went into town for some music this morning and I heard that Mr Bingley has left Netherfield and gone to London.’

  ‘What?’ demanded Mrs Bennet, rounding on Mary. ‘Why did you not say so at once?’

  Elizabeth looked at Jane. She loved Jane dearly and she hoped Jane would not be too disappointed to learn that Mr Bingley had left.

  ‘He has probably gone to collect a party for the Netherfield ball,’ said Elizabeth, noticing that Jane’s eyes looked rather damp.

  ‘Oh, yes, of course, that will be it!’ said Mrs Bennet, her good humour restored. ‘He has gone to invite his friends to the ball. I hope he brings plenty of gentlemen. If there are too many ladies, then some of them will have to sit out again, and that is always vexing.’

  ‘Mr Darcy has gone to London, too,’ Mary remarked.

  ‘Good riddance!’ said Mrs Bennet, ‘ for never a prouder or more disagreeable man ever lived.’

  The object of her scorn was at that minute visiting Somerset House, where a record of births, marriages and deaths was kept. He had made some discreet enquiries of his friends in London but no one had heard anything about Wickham marrying.

  Darcy did not know whether he hoped it was a lie or not. If it was a lie, then Elizabeth would be spared humiliation, but there would be nothing to stop her marrying Mr Wickham then. The thought filled Mr Darcy with despair. He had tried to conquer his feelings for her but he had failed. She was the liveliest, wittiest, loveliest young woman he had ever met. Every time he saw her, he liked her more.

  He wrestled with his feelings. Liking her, admiring her, being attracted to her – all these things were very well, but they could not lead anywhere. He could never marry a woman from such a low station in life, and he could never make her his mistress, either, for her station in life was too high for that. She was caught in the middle of the types of women he could have a relationship with: too good for a mistress but not good enough for a wife.

  He turned his attention back to the task in hand. He made enquiries and by the end of the afternoon he had discovered that George Wickham was indeed married; that the marriage had taken place in the summer; and that his wife, an heiress, lived in the country and seldom ventured further than her local town.

  Which meant that George Wickham had no business turning up in Meryton and behaving as a bachelor.

  The more Mr Darcy thought about it, the more angry he became, until he felt he was ready to call Wickham out. Despite their childhood friendship, he could not abide the thought of Elizabeth being made unhappy. Only the knowledge that duelling was now illegal prevented him from calling on George and issuing a challenge.

  But as he travelled back to his London home, where he was presently staying - and where he had invited Charles to stay - he was boiling over with anger and contempt.

  The carriage rattled to a stop outside the imposing residence that was Mr Darcy’s London home. It was in a fashionable part of town, with a porticoed entrance and shining black railings. Stone steps led up to the door, which was as freshly painted as the railings, and a brass knocker in the shape of a lion’s head was placed firmly in the centre of it.

  The butler opened the door to admit his lord and master and Mr Darcy went in.

  He glimpsed Mr Bingley through the open door of the library. Contrary to Mr Darcy’s expectations, Mr Bingley had not forgotten Miss Bennet and now, after spending a week in London, he was as much in love with her as ever. It was an unsuitable match, but Mr Darcy knew he could not excuse himself from a similar folly, because he was becoming increasingly aware that what he felt for Elizabeth was love. And he was afraid he would not be able to cure his affection, no matter how unsuitable it might be.

  The sound of Georgiana’s pianoforte came from the drawing-room. Mr Darcy immediately felt his cares lessen as he thought of his sister. He went in. How fresh and pretty she was! His feelings regarding his sister, at least, were not in turmoil.

  He had hoped that Mr Bingley would fall in love with her in time, but if Bingley was really set on Jane Bennet then it was not to be. But Mr Bingley was young yet. At the moment he was besotted with Jane Bennet, but Mr Darcy had not given up all hope that Mr Bingley might see the error of his ways and fall in love with Georgiana instead.

  He drew near the pianoforte. Georgiana caught sight of him in one of the gilded mirrors that hung on the wall and jumped up.

  ‘Fitzwilliam!’ she cried, her eyes shining.

  She walked demurely, towards him. Then, at the last minute, she threw decorum aside and ran the last few steps.

  ‘I am so pleased you are home,’ she said. ‘You look tired. Is anything wrong?’

  ‘No, nothing,’ he said. ‘Or, at least, nothing for you to worry about.’

  The biggest satisfaction of his life was that Georgiana had had nothing to worry about since the death of their parents. Darcy had sheltered and protected her, so that she was growing into a happy and confident woman. No love affairs or unsuitable affections had marred her fifteen years. He had guarded her well.

  He thought suddenly of the companion he had hired to accompany his sister to Ramsgate over the summer. The woman had proved to be unsuitable, and had encouraged Georgiana in some fanciful thoughts about the romantic nature of elopements. This Darcy had discovered on a surprise visit to see his sister in Ramsgate. He had even wondered if Mrs Younge had been preparing Georgiana for the advances of a fortune hunter. But luckily nothing had come of it. However, he had sent some of the Pemberley servants to Ramsgate to watch over his sister, and he had dismissed Mrs Younge as soon as Georgiana returned to London.

  In time, he hoped she might marry Charles Bingley, or some other kind and wealthy gentleman. But for now he wanted her to be exactly as she was: open, trusting and loving
. A perfect sister.

  ‘My guardian called while you were out,’ said Georgiana, taking Darcy’s arm in a confiding manner. ‘He could not stay, but I invited him to dine with us.’

  ‘You did well,’ said Darcy.

  Georgiana had two guardians. One was himself and the other was his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. She had needed guardians because her parents died before she came of age, and she would need them until she married or reached her majority. Darcy relished the rôle, and he knew that his cousin also liked it and took it seriously.

  But Darcy was not just glad for Georgiana’s sake that Colonel Fitzwilliam was in town, he was glad for his own sake. He found himself on the horns of a dilemma. And he would value his cousin’s advice. Bingley, for all he was an amiable young man, did not have the breadth of experience that Darcy felt in need of. Because he had a challenge facing him.

  Should he should reveal the fact that Wickham was married?

  And, if so, how he should do it?

  Dinner that evening was convivial. Georgiana was old enough to be dining with the adults and it did her good to have some experience of society. She was joined at the table by her new companion, a sensible woman who was a friend and confidante as well as someone who could teach her etiquette and such like.

  Bingley was in a cheerful mood. He had tended to some business in town but was looking forward to returning home to Netherfield the following day.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam brought with him news of the war and news of his family. The conversation flowed easily until it was time for Georgiana to withdraw, leaving the gentlemen to sit over their port.

  They did not sit long, however, because they knew that Georgiana had no one to talk to except her companion and so they soon joined her.

  Darcy suggested that Bingley should sing for them. He had a fine tenor voice and Georgiana accompanied him on the pianoforte.

  ‘Neatly done,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam appreciatively.

  Darcy raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  ‘Getting rid of Bingley and Georgiana – in the nicest way, of course.’