Darcy saw Arlington observe the encounter with dawning understanding. He reached to shake Bingley’s hand. “It is good to see you again, Bingley. You will have to pardon us. We were just leaving. Do not be too hard on Darcy if he is grumpy this afternoon. My mother dragged him to a dinner to celebrate my and Richard’s engagements last night.”
“My congratulations!” Bingley exclaimed. “I had not heard!”
“Yes, it seems Richard has finally decided to take Lady Belinda Crenshaw off the market, to my mother’s delight.” Richard smiled at the tease. Darcy chuckled at the besotted look on his cousin’s face. “I will be wedding my cousin, Anne, finally fulfilling the wishes of our family.”
“Ah, I see,” Bingley said nervously.
“All is well,” Arlington said with a smile.
Lord Matlock had been silent during the exchange but finally spoke. “Bingley, if you intend to be in Town long, you should call with Darcy soon. For now, we will let you two talk.” The gentlemen said their farewells, and Darcy did not miss the feeling of tension in such a strange meeting.
“One of these days you will work up the nerve to speak to my uncle,” Darcy said.
Bingley laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It would be easier if he did not peer at me so oddly.”
“He means nothing by it,” Darcy said. “So…Truman?”
Bingley relayed his sister’s account. “Caroline really used to have no pretentions. Truman’s grandfather had been a freed slave. He returned from America with the officer who bought him in Fifty-Eight. He served as the butler, and his son became a shopkeeper. He bought his cloth from my grandfather. My cousin, Fred, became such good friends with Truman that my father assisted in sending him to Eton. When the French broke the peace, Truman wanted to join up instead of running the shop with his father.”
Darcy was stunned to hear of a Caroline Bingley who cared so little for society that she entertained an elopement with a mixed-race shopkeeper’s son intent on entering the army. But then he knew how starry-eyed fifteen-year-old girls who lost their fathers could be. “Tell her he is here,” Darcy urged Bingley. “She deserves to know.”
Bingley nodded. “Now, to my business with you. I am ready to knock you on your arse if you do not come back to Netherfield with me and sort out whatever is between you and Lizzy.”
Darcy grimaced. “She does not want me.”
“Bollocks.”
“She intends to marry Wickham. It was all an act so I would not hie off with you in tow and separate you from Jane.”
Bingley opened his mouth, clearly planning to refute it, but then closed it without speaking. Bingley’s seeming acceptance that Elizabeth would act in such a way felt like a knife to Darcy’s already battered heart.
“Wickham wrote me.” Darcy handed the note to his friend. Upon seeing Bingley’s alarmed face, he explained the plan he came to with his relations.
“There is nothing for you to do,” he concluded. “The dispute between Wickham and me will come to a close at last. He knows he will have sufficient revenge on me for a lifetime.”
“Do not give him the satisfaction,” Bingley said.
“It is too late for that. They both know I would do anything for her sake.”
Realising he was useless, Bingley took his leave. Darcy stared blankly at the fire with a wine glass in one hand. In the other, he held Elizabeth’s tatted bookmark, which he found at Netherfield in what seemed like a lifetime ago. He could never hate her, but he was angry. He had never wanted to love a woman. He had been blind to all logic and reason, clearly missing the signs of Wickham’s growing danger. What had been anger at only himself, Darcy allowed a fraction directed at Elizabeth upon Bingley’s acceptance of Wickham’s letter as fact. He did not believe she intentionally desired him to love her, but she made sport of his admiration. Not even the note from Richard declaring that Denny had been apprehended and taken to Arlington’s apartments brought him peace of mind.
*****
Elizabeth arrived at Netherfield’s doorstep shivering. Her gown was hopelessly crumpled and stained. Wickham’s blood marred her skirt, but she was thankful it was not her own. Recognising her but alarmed at her appearance, the butler immediately took her to the drawing room. Miss Bingley stood and cried out at Elizabeth’s entrance. Caroline motioned for Elizabeth to sit and called for a chamber to be made up. In a short time, Elizabeth was settled in a borrowed nightgown and in the chamber where Jane stayed while ill.
Once the servants were dismissed, Caroline sat in the chair nearest the bed and Mrs. Hurst in another. “What happened, Eliza?”
Elizabeth blushed. She had not considered the horror of retelling the events. “I must go to London. Has your brother left?”
Caroline nodded. “Yesterday morning. But you cannot expect me not to insist on knowing what befell you on your journey here. Why did you come on foot, or at all? A note could have been sent.”
“I did not come from Longbourn,” Elizabeth replied. She considered telling her the truth but could not bear it. She leaned forward and hid her tears in her hands, not caring that the neckline of her gown slipped over her shoulder.
“Eliza!” Mrs. Hurst cried out.
Raising her head, she looked at the exposed flesh the ladies stared at with a horrified expression. An ugly bruise in the outline of Wickham’s fingers was forming.
Mrs. Hurst made her way to the bed and sat on the edge. “Who?” she asked gently.
Elizabeth shook her head.
“We shall call for the physician,” the older lady determined.
“No!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “No, there is no other damage. My ankle will recover after some rest.”
“You are near exhaustion,” Caroline agreed. “Shall we send for your mother?”
“We ought to at least tell your father,” Mrs. Hurst suggested.
“No, please do not.” She bit her lip. “If you will send for anyone, ask for Mary.”
“Very well,” Louisa said. “We will let you rest.”
They both stood. Caroline paused before leaving. “I have had a letter from Charles, and we intend to leave for London in the morning. If you are recovered, you are welcome to join us. I hope…I hope you will use your time in London wisely, Eliza.”
Elizabeth easily understood that Caroline meant she should apologise to Will. Elizabeth wondered if Caroline could comprehend how truly sorry she was for doubting Will’s character and trusting Wickham at all. Warm and tired, she fell into a restless sleep, awaking when Mary arrived.
“Lizzy,” she heard Mary murmur over her before descending into prayer. Feeling comforted by it, she allowed Mary to finish before alerting her to being awake.
“I am not ill,” she told her younger sister.
“No, I did not think so. Will you tell me what happened? Papa grew concerned when you did not return. He was upset to hear you were hurt and at Netherfield.”
Elizabeth was quiet for a long time. “We have been very mistaken to trust Wickham.” Mary gasped, and Elizabeth nodded. “I know Papa must have been taken in as much as any of us, but I do not know if I can ever forgive him for thinking I should marry any man in exchange for clearing his debts.”
She could not tell Mary all that she had suffered. She could not find words for it at all, but she was able to explain their father’s failure.
“So you will not come home?” Mary asked.
Elizabeth shook her head. She had not been predisposed to think well of the male sex, but she had thought well of her father. She had thought he thought well of her, too. “I will go with the others to London on Monday. Could you write our aunt and ask that it be sent out before the night’s post?”
“Of course,” Mary agreed.
While she wrote, Elizabeth fell asleep again. She awoke gasping and flinging her arms wide. Mary was at her side in an instant.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said as her sister offered a handkerchief to dry the sweat that pricked her brow. “I am surprised
you do not lecture me to return home.”
“Scripture says we must honour our father and mother. You did enough fighting for your own honour today, and you never would have needed to had our mother or father been better and more attentive.”
It was the closest to outright disrespect for her elders Mary had ever displayed. “I am sorry I have not been a better sister to you,” Elizabeth told her. “I have been too much like Papa and content to laugh at others. You deserved better from us both.” She hung her head.
“Thank you, but I do not mind your teasing or encouragement to be more outgoing. I think you do not care for her, but I have been making friends with Miss Bingley. It is nice to talk to another lady who likes the pianoforte. Well, I thought I had that with Georgie, but…” Mary trailed off. “I will speak with Miss Bingley about sending a dinner tray for you. And would you like to read?”
Elizabeth agreed, and the two sisters passed the day in relative quiet. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst sat with them for some time, and Mary ate with them. Elizabeth spent as much time as she could feigning to sleep. She did not trust herself to slumber, for each time the same nightmare began. First, she would see Will’s anguished look at her refusal. Next, she would be searching for him in the woods and see his outline in the distance, only for Wickham to find her. The more she ran, the further away Will appeared and the closer Wickham came.
The next morning arrived, and Mary was to return to Longbourn. Elizabeth hobbled into the Hurst carriage grateful to leave the environs of Hertfordshire behind.
Chapter Twenty-One
Wickham winced as he washed out his hair. Eliza had struck him better than many a man he had fought. It was the perfect position to slow his ability to follow her as well. It was several hours before he recovered from the dizziness he experienced from the wound. The nausea had not lessened, but that was not due to his injury.
For the first time in nigh on twenty years, Wickham passed by his mirror without looking into it. He could not bear to see his reflection now. He had nearly forced himself on the one woman he had ever loved.
Wickham knew he was a man of few scruples. He had courted a life of dissipation and anger, intent on claiming as much Darcy money as he could. Marrying Eliza after she refused Darcy—all while living on his money—would have been his greatest triumph of all, but he had not intended to actually fall in love with the lady.
If she would not have him and was so intent on having Darcy, then Wickham would give her the desire of her heart. She could not go without penalty, of course, but he would not have her and know she longed for Darcy the whole time. Throwing his coat on, he left his chambers and walked towards the coaching inn where Denny should be arriving.
“Ah, Wickham,” Captain Carter called to him from across the street. Wickham waited for the gentleman to reach him. “I have just had a note from Denny. He is delayed in London. I am making arrangements for him to meet us in West Riding of Yorkshire.
Wickham attempted to conceal his internal panic. “What delays him?”
Carter smiled. “He was to pay my compliments to our lofty benefactor and was asked to remain for some wedding festivity.”
“Quite delightful for him, I am sure,” Wickham said.
“I will need you to look in on Denny’s platoon, then.”
“Of course,” Wickham said while seething on the inside and heading off to his new tasks.
He was betrayed! He only wondered if Denny had been so stupid as to be caught red-handed delivering the note to the Matlock residence or if they tracked him later. Realising Darcy would not be sending the money and now had sufficient means to prosecute him, along with a reason for insane jealousy and anger, Wickham came to a desperate resolution. He would go on this assignment and then make his way to Scotland. Darcy had no estate there, no interest and no familial ties. His reach could not extend there. Even the Act of Union forming Great Britain did not allow for extradition to England for trials. Surely he could win some games and maybe even marry a well-dowered girl. He was not foolish enough to hope for a true heiress any longer, but at this point, he would be thankful simply to keep his life and all his parts.
*****
Elizabeth rode in near silence to Gracechurch Street. While Mr. Hurst snored, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst only made strange remarks about how they hoped “he would not resent the past.” Elizabeth did not think they meant Will. Whomever they were speaking about, Elizabeth agreed with the feeling. She hoped Will would not hate her forever. She did not doubt his honour, but she hoped he would forgive her, and they could begin their lives with happiness.
She was greeted affectionately by her aunt and sister. They both asked why she desired to come to London so strongly but seemed disbelieving of Elizabeth’s reply that she missed Jane. If they suspected another reason for her arrival, Elizabeth did not care in the least. Indeed, their constant hints at hoping to see Mr. Darcy and Georgiana soon were proof enough of their approval for her errand.
Thus Elizabeth did not feel guilty when she lied to them while shopping the day after her arrival. She left a hint with the clerk at the book shop and then hailed a hackney. The driver gave her a disapproving look for riding unescorted, but he was not prepared to turn down good payment. She only hoped the butler let her in and that Will was not so angry that he would refuse to hear her plea.
Long before she was prepared, the cab reached the correct street. She descended and walked up to Will’s door.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet to see Miss Darcy and Mrs. Darcy if she is available.” The butler raised his eyebrows, and Elizabeth thrust her card into his hands before he could speak. The back of it read, “Please, I must speak with Mr. Darcy. He knows me.”
She hoped her face looked as earnest as she felt. Will was likely beset by women who wanted to trap him into marriage. She hoped by requesting to meet with the non-existent Mrs. Darcy that she would give the butler enough pause to consider her request instead of being assured she was a stranger to the family. If he passed the card on to his master, perhaps Will would begin to understand her offer.
Luck was with her; the butler looked at her again after reading her note on the card and showed her to a drawing room. She was bade to wait. He did not express if he was seeking Mr. Darcy or his sister, but Elizabeth felt rather sure all requests to see Miss Darcy would filter through her brother.
It had felt like an eternity before she heard steps in the hall again. The door opened, and she held her breath. It was the butler again! Oh, he was going to show her out. Her whole world crumbled, and she was sure it showed on her face. She was trembling by the time he came close enough to speak.
“Mr. Darcy requests you meet him in the study. Follow me.”
Still trembling and more than a little confused, she blindly followed the servant a few feet down the hall. She was too concerned and anxious to take in the size of Will’s townhouse. She could think only of her mission. They reached the door, and the butler showed her in. Timidly, she entered and immediately felt it was Will’s sanctuary. She would much rather have met him in the drawing room.
The light was dim, and the room was panelled with heavy wood and bookshelves. There was a great fireplace to one side, and at last, she saw Will standing against the mantle, glass in hand.
She took a tentative step forward, and he looked up. She hated what she saw in his eyes and ice gripped her heart.
“Miss Bennet,” was all he said. He motioned to a chair, but she felt she could not sit.
“Pardon the intrusion, Mr. Darcy.” She took a deep breath. They had always been so bad at mundane talk. Should she ask how he had been? No, it was very clear how he had been.
“You requested to meet with me, madam, and my imagination is entirely incapable of conjuring a reason.”
He spoke with coldness, like the first night she saw him and then later when she refused him. It occurred to her then that she had only heard him speak in that tone on those occasions. Even when her mother insulted him, there was a p
leasant warmth in his voice. No, she could not think on things like that, or she would lose her nerve. She had to at least explain.
She summoned her courage and began, “I have no doubt you have little wish to see me, but I desperately need your help. Georgiana arranged for me to receive your letter.”
“She should not have,” he said with that steely coldness again.
Elizabeth licked her lips. “After...after I read your letter,” here he anxiously looked up at her, “I saw my mistakes and how blind I was. I completely believed your accounting of Mr. Wickham.”
She could not bear to see the anger she was certain to find, so she fixed her gaze on a particular vase near Darcy. “He hates you more than I could have ever imagined. He threatened my family...”
She still could not look at him, but she heard him; she thought he was a little closer than she expected. “Did he explain his plans?”
“He holds my father’s vowels and intended to make you pay.”
“How could he do that?”
She gulped. “He secured a promise from my father. He will forgive Papa’s debts if I marry him.”
“And so you are here to negotiate the terms? You have learned his true character and how little you will have in married life and are asking for a supplement?”
She glanced a little at him then. “You are an influential and wealthy man. If all he wants is your money, then perhaps you can arrange for him to leave his regiment and forget about anyone named Bennet.”
“Do you believe all he wants is my money?”
She could not answer and looked away.
She heard him step closer. “Elizabeth, do you believe that is all he wants?”
A tear trickled down her face, and she looked up to see him only a few feet from her. “No. His history with you is clear that he desires revenge. And now it is very clear to me as well.”
He took the final steps to her side. “Tell me what he did!”
Sufficient Encouragement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (When Love Blooms Book 1) Page 24
