As she worked, her mind turned again to the day she spent at the Harrisons’ with Darcy. Her heart ached to call him Will, but her mind refused to allow it. He was as generous as any man of his sex towards the poor in his care, she had no doubt, but she would have hated to be viewed as his newest philanthropic endeavour. It was more than her vanity and pride. She desired a marriage of equals, a partnership, as much as men and women could share one. If he could not respect her family or origins, how could there be unity between them?
Jane and Bingley conversed in the corner of the room. Their twin smiles were evidence enough of the love between them—a love Elizabeth believed she would never know. Inhaling, she determined to content herself with life. She would never work on baby clothes for her own. Instead, she would be the doting and spinster aunt as each successive sister married. Refusing the man she loved made it impossible to view any other offer but as abhorrent.
Immersed in her thoughts, she did not see Mr. Wickham draw near until he greeted her, causing her to jump. “I am sorry to interrupt your solitude.”
She shook her head and forced out a lie. “It does not follow that the interruption was unwelcome.”
“I should be sorry if it did. I had thought we were becoming good friends,” he said with a disarming smile. Had she not carried the memory of another as first in her heart, she would say he was the best looking gentleman of her acquaintance.
“True,” she said. She had to agree she enjoyed the consistency of his presence in the absence of others whom she cherished. They both mourned their ill-treatment by Darcy in silent but shared camaraderie.
“Would you care for another rematch, then?” he said and nodded to her father’s study.
A cloud passed by, blocking the sun again, and Elizabeth realised the futileness of her attempts at sewing by sunlight on this day. “Very well,” she agreed and followed him to the library. Mr. Bennet only nodded at their arrival and returned to his book.
Wickham left shortly after completing the match—another win.
“It is nice to see you smile again, Lizzy. Even if you keep making careless mistakes in your game,” her father said before she left. “Besides everything else, I am excessively partial to Mr. Wickham for bringing you some cheer.”
“He is very amiable,” she admitted, but she had thought his mind inferior to the object of her affections.
“You get on very well. Very well matched,” she heard him mutter as she shut the door. As it did not seem an invitation for more conversation, she did not ask for enlightenment, but she found it peculiar. Mr. Wickham could never afford to marry her, and there was no attachment between them.
The next day, Wickham and several other officers were invited to dinner again as it was the last night with the Gardiners and Jane. They were invited into the library to sit with her father, as usual. Annoyed with herself for failing to pay adequate attention to her matches with Wickham, she vowed to focus on their guests.
When the other officers entered the drawing room, Wickham again invited Elizabeth to a chess match. She agreed and applied herself to the game and to the conversation. She knew it was easier to distract an opponent who felt obliged to speak. She asked many questions and appeared to find every detail fascinating. Wickham’s wit flew long, and Elizabeth easily saw how he felt too self-assured with his abilities to check his failing attention.
“Checkmate!” she exclaimed and clapped, interrupting his story about winning a horse race when he was only ten years old.
He jerked back, stunned, and surveyed the board. For a moment, his face took on a black look as though he was angry to lose, but then he threw his head back and laughed. “Your more animated conversation today was simply to distract me so you might win,” he accused but smiled.
She shook her head. “I have no idea what you are suggesting, sir,” she said with an innocent look.
He leaned forward. “I am accusing you, Miss Eliza, of trickery! Bewitchment! A man cannot care about a chess board when a lovely lady finds his conversation so interesting.”
His smile made Elizabeth feel the force of the truthfulness behind his words. She blushed. “It is only a game,” she said while putting away the pieces.
“Do not think that I am displeased. I admire you all the more for your cunning,” he said then winked. “My compliments to you, Mr. Bennet,” he said over his shoulder. “The lady is cleverer than any I have met.”
Elizabeth would have been cross at Wickham for his flirtatious praise had it not brought a smile to her father’s face when he had seemed so indifferent or angry of late. After taking his leave of the family, he bowed over Elizabeth’s hand when the others were not watching and kissed it. Immediately, she felt a panic seize her. She could never accept his attentions. Her only relief was that her aunt and uncle would leave for London on the morrow, and then her mother would not be inviting him so often. It was determined Jane would go with the Gardiners to shop in London, and while they invited Elizabeth as well, she had declined. She would miss Jane, but she had no desire to be a mile closer to Darcy.
She hated even more the thought that as the day of Bingley and Jane’s wedding drew closer, so did the day she would see Darcy again. As she sat by herself before supper, it occurred to her that one day she would see him marry. Another woman would sew clothes for his children, and Elizabeth would have to see it all. Worse than all that, she would see him gaze at his wife with affection and without the smack of regret over that lady's position in life.
Tears pricked her eyes. A handkerchief slid into her hand. She looked up to see Miss Bingley standing in front of her, blocking her view from the inspection of intrusive members of her family. The other woman said nothing but neither did she look disgusted. Elizabeth quickly dried her eyes and handed it back to Miss Bingley with a slight nod. She was called away by Mary but gave Elizabeth a small smile before leaving.
She determined she must gain control of her feelings. All hope may be gone, but she could not mourn having met Darcy.
Chapter Nineteen
Wickham tugged on his uniform coat. Mrs. Bennet spread a good table, and the frequent dinners were getting the better of his waistline. He would tell Elizabeth to be more mindful once they were married. Of course, considering marriage to her made other parts of his attire tighten as well.
She was entirely irresistible yesterday while they played chess. She teased, and her red lips smiled at just him. When her cheeks flushed with laughter, he could imagine another way to bring them such a rosy hue. She would enjoy his bed; he was certain of it. Aside from her physical charms, he respected her cunning mind. That she esteemed him when most others would look down on his position and showed interest in his life and amusements was all the further encouragement he needed. As soon as he could settle on the best way to arrange financial matters, he would take her as his wife. A grin spread across his face as he considered just how much taking would be involved.
Hearing loud cheers in the common room, Wickham entered.
“Wickham! We’re going!” cheered Chamberlayne. He sloshed half his cup of ale on his arm. Other officers surrounded him and toasted as well.
Turning away in disgust from the half-inebriated men, Wickham sought out Denny. “What’s this about?”
Taking a large swig, Denny shook his head. “Fools, the lot of them. Orders came in. We’re needed up North to put down a rebellion.”
“Rebellion? The Scots?”
“Nah, just idiot cropper scum that think they’re better than everyone.”
“Are they that eager to be heroes?”
“I sure hope your plan is ready,” Denny said.
“Of course, it is!” he snapped at his friend.
“Denny! Wickham! Drink up, friends!” Carter shoved full cups into their hands. “We owe it all to Lord Arlington. He personally recommended our regiment!” Carter immediately moved on to another group of men.
“Begin the next phase today,” Wickham instructed.
“You thi
nk things will go smoothly?” Denny inquired.
“I have no doubts at all.” Wickham smiled. “Now, we will need to think of something to do about Arlington. His recommendation for our regiment was no mistake, I am sure.”
Denny grinned. “I will leave you to the scheming,” he said before gathering the other men for a game with Mr. Bennet and Longbourn’s superior port and pretty company.
He returned several hours later. “Did you complete your task?” Wickham asked.
“He said his vowels with Carter and Chamberlayne as witnesses. Quite put out, too, I reckon.”
“How much?” Wickham asked. His pitch increased, and he leaned forward. His heart raced with anticipation.
“Ten thousand,” came the reply.
Wickham sat back and grinned in satisfaction. “Excellent. Shall we?”
Both men laughed and returned to the common room.
The next day, Wickham arrived at Longbourn alone. He was disappointed to be told that Eliza had gone out walking, but he would look for her later. First, there was business with Mr. Bennet. Wickham was sent to the library, and it was clear the other gentleman was in a foul mood.
“Ah, the others told you what you missed yesterday,” he said while motioning for Wickham to sit and pouring a glass of port for his guest. “I will not be playing against you. I know your mind is too shrewd; with Denny, I really thought I had a chance.” He set the glass in front of Wickham. “I will never touch the stuff again.”
Wickham abstained from the offer. He needed his head sharp. “I was sorry to hear about your misfortune,” he said in a tone of affected sincerity. “It is actually the matter I came to see you about.”
“Indeed?” Mr. Bennet flicked a piece of paper. “In my youth, I was a bit of a gamester. I thought it would be easy enough to earn a few thousand pounds for my daughters’ sake. I am writing my brother-in-law at the moment to cover the debt, but if you know of some secure investment I can make to pay him back, I would be thankful.”
“I have considered a way for no repayment to be necessary.”
“How can that be possible?” Mr. Bennet asked with a twinge of desperation in his voice.
“Denny lost to me last night, and I would be willing to cancel your debt in exchange for Miss Eliza’s hand in marriage and one hundred pounds per annum.”
Mr. Bennet turned white. “Why would you need to negotiate with me? If you ask for her hand and she accepts you, I will gladly give the one hundred pounds.”
Wickham took on a sorrowful expression. “I do not think she would accept from her own affections yet, and we have received orders for the North to leave on Twelfth Night. I would hate to interrupt my courtship, or worse not return to her. I do love her dearly, but time is now my enemy. I would do this also to give her peace of mind. I could never accept so much from her father and ruin her family’s happiness.”
Wickham held his breath as Mr. Bennet seemed to consider his options. Taking off his spectacles, he scrubbed his hand over his face then looked out the window. “So be it,” he whispered.
Wickham exhaled and stood. “I had hoped to see her today. Do you know which direction she intended to walk?”
“She was to call on a tenant, Mrs. Harrison, who just had a baby.” Mr. Bennet gave him the directions while hastily writing a note. “If she does not accept your proposal, give her this.”
Wickham nodded, although did not think it would be needed at all. He hastily left the room, intent on securing his bride.
*****
Elizabeth walked to the Harrisons’ farm and attempted not to be reminded of her day spent with Darcy. She wondered if the feeling as though he were still physically present and beside her would ever go away. She moved slower than usual and tried to tell herself it was because her ankle was still sore. She knew the truth, however. Her heart was weighed down.
Since Jane and the Gardiners left two days ago, she had more time for silent reflection. She still felt the sting of Darcy’s mode of proposal, although her father had cautioned her not to be so sensitive about the words a man would use in his offer of marriage. Likewise, she hated that she had been so mistaken in his true character. Perhaps for others he was gentlemanly enough, but she had superior standards. She frowned as she recalled their debate weeks ago at Netherfield about gentlemanly character. It was an insult to realise she could be so blind and mislead simply because of flattered vanity. The real thing that afflicted her mind was knowing she never deserved his proposal. She still maintained that their stations in life held no true obstacle, but her spirits had led her wrong. She had hoped to maintain his admiration for Jane’s sake without regard to his feelings.
She blinked back tears as she arrived at the Harrisons’ door. She was quickly welcomed in and set to work. Pleased to see Nate’s continued recovery, she allowed the woman of the house to rest. An hour or two later, it was time for her to leave, and Mrs. Harrison handed a letter to her.
“Molly, who works up at Netherfield, gave this to me on Christmas. She said it could only go to you, or I would have passed it along to your sisters.” She cast her eyes down. “I did not want to be rude and sound demanding of your time with all you do for us and hint too strongly that you needed to visit soon.”
“Oh! My dear Mrs. Harrison, please forgive me!” Elizabeth cried. “I could never forget you or your family! I ought to have come on Boxing Day, but I felt unwell.”
“I know how it is.” The older woman met Elizabeth’s eyes. “They say it is just the master and his sisters and brother-in-law at Netherfield now. The others have left.” She gave Elizabeth a sad smile. “But I knew you would not forget us. Now go on and read it.” She shooed Elizabeth out the door.
Elizabeth wandered the lanes for several minutes before she had the nerve to open the letter. It was Georgiana’s handwriting, and she could not have been more disappointed. At last, she opened it just to read that her friend enclosed her brother’s letter to keep it away from intrusive eyes. Hardly knowing what to expect, she opened and read his words.
My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,
Words cannot express the pain I felt upon leaving your side today. I can only think that we must have had some terrible misunderstanding. You must know, you must have seen all these weeks, how constant my admiration for you is. You are unlike any other lady I have known. Your combined beauty and wit seem perfectly designed for me, but it goes well beyond any logical reasons. I love you. I feel your heart beating in mine. I offered you marriage for no other reason than I do not know how to live without you.
I asked to meet with you this morning to address your questions regarding Mr. Wickham, and I apologise for failing to do so due to my ungentlemanly impulses. Given your objections to my hand, I am thankful that you voiced them. We should only have honesty and openness between us.
I was wrong in my endeavour to separate Bingley from your sister. I was worried about the strength of his attachment, and if my words allowed him to wait the weeks that have passed since our conversation before the Netherfield ball, then I cannot see it as an evil. Bingley has often been in love before, and for his sake as well as your sister’s, he ought to have waited to test his true feelings. I do regret, however, the mode of my objection. It was built on unnecessary prejudice. In my youth, I was persuaded to believe women inconstant and mercenary creatures. I know now that I have unfairly judged the entire sex that way and, upon amending my views, believe your sister to be the best possible match for my friend.
I do not know what Mr. Wickham has said about me specifically. He was raised as a near companion to myself; the son of my father’s steward. My father was his godfather and took an active interest in Wickham’s life. My father paid for Wickham’s schooling and intended to provide for him in his will. Wickham was left one thousand pounds, and it was recommended to me to give him the living of a valuable family holding when it came open if Wickham took orders. Shortly after the reading of the will, Wickham resolved not to enter the church and instead r
equested funds to study the law. Although he concealed his true character from my father, I have known of Wickham’s vicious propensities and wanton selfishness for many, many years. He was unable to hide his true self from a young man so close to him in age. I gladly provided the income for his studies on the condition that he never ask for the living. All connection between us then seemed dissolved.
I was mistaken, however. Three years passed, and how Wickham lived, I know not. Rumours of a lascivious lifestyle would sometimes reach me, and I confess they did not surprise me. The living mentioned in my father’s will opened, and despite his earlier contract to give it up, Wickham approached me for it. He assured me that he found the law an unprofitable study, and his situation was now desperate enough to warrant his agreement to the life of a clergyman. I refused to alter our earlier agreement, and he was profuse in his abuse to me and about me to others. For some time, there were repeated pleas for the position, invoking my father’s dying wish and our old friendship. Resisting them all, I did not regret the time when he seemed to give up his hopes.
I was once again mistaken. Georgiana completed her education last spring and was taken from school, as you know. She was put in the care of a woman named Mrs. Younge, who I later learned had a connection to Mr. Wickham. Mrs. Younge suggested a visit to the seaside for Georgiana and to Ramsgate was followed by Wickham.
There, he persuaded Georgiana that he was in love with her and to consent to an elopement. I arrived by chance a day before the intended date. Georgiana found she could not pain me so much as to marry in secrecy and confessed it all to me. Upon learning I was in the area, Wickham immediately fled. Georgiana had no choice but to accept my testaments about her suitor, as devastating as it was.
Sufficient Encouragement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (When Love Blooms Book 1) Page 22
