by P. O. Dixon
He walked up to a Mr. Harry Rollins, whose estate abutted Pemberley. Clearing his throat, the proud man said, “Mr. William Collins at your service, sir.”
The older gentleman’s blank stare compelled Mr. Collins to continue. “You will recall my having greeted you earlier. I am Mrs. Darcy’s cousin and the heir apparent to her father’s estate—Longbourn in Hertfordshire.”
A portly man with an air of importance about him, the gentleman raised his glass. “I offer a toast to Mr. Bennet’s health. May he live long and prosper.”
“Indeed, may he live long and prosper.” Mr. Collins cleared his throat again. “Sir, I wanted to take the liberty of apologizing to you on my cousin’s behalf for the appalling spectacle at dinner. As you have likely discerned, Mrs. Darcy is a paragon of virtue by comparison. Although there was a time when I too found myself questioning her judgment, I want to assure you that her character is beyond reproach. She is not to be judged by her sister’s behavior.”
“Ah, you need not worry on that account, Mr. Collins. We all have members of our families who ought not to be exposed to polite society, do we not? Although, in Mrs. Wickham’s case, I must say she is quite refreshing. Her husband is indeed a most fortunate man.”
“Sir, if you knew the circumstances of that union then you would not be nearly so charitable in your good opinion. The fact is that the alliance came about as the consequence of a scandalous elopement that threatened to ruin the entire family’s reputation.
“In view of my situation in life and by my relationship with Mrs. Darcy’s excellent father, I condoled with him on the grievous affliction he had suffered. It was beyond my power to say or do anything that would alleviate so severe a misfortune. I posited that the death of his daughter would have been a blessing by comparison.”
Here, the other man retrieved his pocket watch and gave it a determined stare. This was insufficient to discourage Collins’s speech and thus he continued.
“In relating the particulars of the affair to my noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, she aptly pointed out that no one would wish to connect themselves with such a family. Indeed, this led me to consider that, if a certain event of a certain November had unfolded otherwise, I would have been directly involved in the sorrow and disgrace. I cannot tell you how disappointed I was when Mr. Bennet disregarded my advice to throw off the unworthy young lady from his affections forever and leave her to reap the fruits of her heinous offence.”
Twisting his strained neck, Collins swallowed hard. “I say all this not to be a party to gossip, but merely to beg your forgiveness and disabuse you of any notion that Mrs. Wickham’s indecorous deportment is a reflection of her excellent sister’s good character.”
“Mrs. Darcy is fortunate to have a cousin who goes to such lengths to protect her good name. I assure you that I was not the least bit offended by the events of the evening. Now, if you will pardon me, I think the time is near for us to join the ladies.”
Collins, feeling quite pleased to have done his cousin such a benevolent service, was encouraged by his reception. Still, there were some matters that he supposed might have been more aptly conveyed. After pausing a moment or two to refashion his speech, he spotted another of Darcy’s neighbors standing by the mantelpiece observing the goings-on. Ever cognizant of his duty to his cousin Elizabeth, Collins gave his coat a sharp tug and then set off in the gentleman’s direction.
~*~
Lady Catherine silently applauded the unseemly spectacle that took place over dinner earlier that evening. Mr. Collins was a paragon of good taste and proper breeding in comparison to that wild Bennet daughter. If she had but one regret it was that Mr. Bennet had taken it upon himself to spare the rest of the Darcys’ guests from his silly daughter’s company when he did. Still, she had said enough to pique her ladyship’s curiosity exceedingly.
Glancing about the room, her ladyship’s eyes landed on the one person who was both knowledgeable of what Mrs. Wickham was talking about and willing to fill in the details of all that had gone unspoken.
Lady Catherine stole the empty seat beside Miss Caroline Bingley. Eschewing many of the usual pleasantries, her ladyship came directly to the point. “I understand you were in Hertfordshire yourself when my nephew suffered the misfortune of making the Bennet family’s acquaintance.” Lady Catherine’s tone was meant to be intimate to disguise the fact that she did not particularly care for the young woman whose company she must endure in order to accomplish her purposes.
Fashionably attired in a rich, auburn satin gown, Caroline discreetly scanned the room to see who was close by. Whatever were her private thoughts on the matter at hand, she was not eager to disparage Elizabeth aloud. Pemberley may not have been her home, nor would it possibly ever be, but she really did enjoy being there. On the other hand, the temptation to earn her ladyship’s approbation was strong. Old habits did not die easily.
“Indeed, I was there to witness it all. Although, I never truly supposed then that the likes of those Bennets would one day roam the halls of Pemberley.”
“My nephew was determined to have Elizabeth, and thus he must live with this choice. What I am curious to know is this.” Her ladyship leaned closer. “Is there any truth to what that appalling young woman had to say during dinner? Did Elizabeth indeed esteem George Wickham? Was he truly her favorite? Did the two of them have an understanding?”
“I can say that every word of what Mrs. Wickham said is true. Eliza’s head was full of the dashing lieutenant, and she did not tolerate anyone who dared to discredit him—especially Mr. Darcy. I ought to know for on more than one occasion I witnessed the two of them in a heated debate over that gentleman. I even tried to warn her of her folly for admiring the son of the late Mr. Darcy’s steward as well. She practically laughed in my face.”
Lady Catherine held up her hand signaling that she had heard enough. A new resolve glossed over her ladyship’s countenance. She always believed there was a flaw in Elizabeth’s character that would prove her unworthy of the trust her nephew had placed in her to be the mistress of his home and one day the mother of his yet unborn children. The sister of my only niece! Finally, Lady Catherine knew exactly how to act.
To Elizabeth and Darcy’s dismay, Lydia made her way back to the party later that evening and soon captured the attention of every gentleman in the room who was known for having wandering eyes, much to Lydia’s satisfaction and the dismay of the gentlemen’s wives.
Despite all the attention she had garnered, it seemed Lydia was determined to embarrass her sister even more, and she prevailed upon Mary to open the instrument and play. Bored as could be, and always impatient for display, Mary readily acceded to her sister’s plea for a lively tune to add a bit of gaiety to a room that the latter insisted was severely wanting. This was meant to be a party, she contended—not a wake. The only thing left for Lydia to do was to prevail on the others to rally to her cause. Kitty quickly joined in her sister’s campaign and soon the youngest Bennet daughters and their willing partners, as well as two or three other young couples, commenced dancing at one end of the room.
Several of the other guests stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of passing the evening at the expense of pleasant conversation. If the Darcys had meant for this to be a ball then they should have indeed given a ball, some of the older, rather patrician women could be heard remarking among themselves.
Darcy himself was also dismayed. He likened what was unfolding before his eyes to what had occurred on that evening at Lucas Lodge in Hertfordshire. That had been during the earlier days of his acquaintance with the people of Meryton. He had equated the appalling display to savagery. He never imagined he would one day bear witness to such an exhibition in his own home.
Lydia soon prevailed upon a Mr. John Turner, from a nearby estate, who was rumored to be a rake of the truest kind despite his being on the wrong side of forty, to dance with her. Not long after that, the two of them drifted to a corner of the room where
no one could be bothered by either of them, other than the gentleman’s wife. Not one to be thus disrespected, the injured woman marched across the room and inserted herself directly between her husband and Lydia. Her own reputation attested to the fact that she did not garner the attention of the rakish John Turner by being demure and unassuming. Lydia Wickham may well have cast herself as fodder for derision because of her outrageous behavior that evening, but not at Mrs. Sally Turner’s expense.
Laughing at the ridiculousness of others was part of Elizabeth’s nature, but not that night—not when the others in question were members of her own family. Standing alone on the terrace, she exhaled deeply. Gazing up at the nighttime’s sky in wonder, she watched as the moon ducked behind the clouds. What a balm the fresh, crisp air was for her mortified nerves. Memories of another night a couple years past came to mind: the night of the Netherfield ball. She was certain she would never forget her family’s appalling behavior that evening, even if she lived to be a hundred years old. Now history was repeating itself with Mary’s mediocre performance on the pianoforte, her mother’s excessive boasting about her eldest daughters’ good fortunes, her cousin Mr. Collins’s sycophancy, and Lydia’s wildness.
Will my family ever forego a chance to make themselves ridiculous? Elizabeth threw a reflective glance over the events of the evening. Thank heavens Papa heeded my silent plea to escort Lydia away from the formal dining room. She pursed her lips. If only he might have prevented her from returning afterward. Her mind wandered to the one person in the room who must certainly have taken a perverted pleasure in the goings-on: Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The haughty aristocrat’s words echoed in Elizabeth’s busy mind.
Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?
Such had been her complaint when confronting Elizabeth at Longbourn that fateful day. Indeed, her ladyship must be thoroughly pleased. It had not escaped Elizabeth’s notice that Lady Catherine and Miss Caroline Bingley were embroiled in a private tête-à-tête earlier that evening as well. No doubt both of them are pleased.
Just as the moon emerged from behind the clouds, Elizabeth tore her eyes away from the sky and espied her husband walking her way. When they were close, he reached both hands out to her, and she readily accepted them. At that moment, his tender touch was exactly what she needed.
“My family,” she began, her voice filled with apology. “How can I make amends?”
Releasing her hands, he placed a finger to her slightly parted lips. “You owe me nothing, my love.” He took her in his arms and drew her closer. No distance existed between them. He placed his hands along either side of her long, slender neckline, leaned in, and gently brushed a kiss over her lips. “Come back inside, my love.”
Time and again, she had been a witness to her family’s lack of decorum. He had seen it too, yet, instead of berating himself for willingly marrying into such a family, he was standing there offering her comfort at a time when she wanted it the most. Elizabeth truly loved this man. Her forehead against his, her hands rested on his waist. Comforted beyond measure by his nearness, she spoke softly. “Must we?”
He lifted her chin and kissed her. “We must.”
Darcy was not immune to his wife’s sentiments. He would rather the evening were over as well. He was ever so thankful that his sister was not there to witness the evening’s unfolding events. Although she was not officially out in Society, Darcy and Elizabeth saw no harm in her taking part in the evening’s events. Georgiana had complained of a headache soon after dinner and retired to her apartment. If only he could spare Elizabeth. She had worked so hard to make the evening a success.
She had even salvaged what was left of the dinner after Lydia had been ushered away by her father. Such was not an easy feat, but Elizabeth’s charming manner won out and without making excuses for her sister. Her loyalty to her family was beyond question, but she certainly deserved an equal measure from them. To Darcy’s way of thinking, she was not getting any such consideration.
Heedless of decorum and his obligation to entertain the guests, he stayed by Elizabeth’s side for the remainder of the evening until the last of their visitors who were not staying overnight took their leave. The happenings of that evening gave him much to consider. The matter of houseguests running amok was certainly something Darcy had never planned on. Family loyalty had its limits, and so far as he was concerned those limits had been grossly exceeded.
Chapter 7
The next day, the Earl of Matlock walked into his nephew’s study. “Darcy, I wanted to wait until your guests had left before I spoke with you.”
This visit from his uncle was not wholly unexpected. It was patently clear that his lordship had been appalled by the events of the previous evening. However, if he expected an apology, he had come to the wrong place.
Standing, Darcy said, “My lord—”
The earl held up his hand. “Hear what I have to say, Nephew. You have long prided yourself on being your own master. You follow your own counsel. I would expect no less from you. However, I am the head of this family. If there are events that have unfolded that would prove to damage our family’s reputation were they widely discovered then I ought to know about them.”
“What is it that you think I have been keeping from you, Uncle?”
“What is the meaning of Mrs. Wickham’s outlandish assertion that Georgiana might have been in her place? Is there something about my niece that you have been keeping from me?”
Disguise of any sort was Darcy’s abhorrence. Though he and Richard had taken great pains to assure that Georgiana’s secret remained concealed, now that Lydia had hinted of having knowledge of the Ramsgate affair there was no point in denying it to the titular head of the family.
Darcy took a seat and his uncle did likewise. “You are aware,” the younger man began, “that my sister had long retained a favorable impression of George Wickham’s kindness to her as a child.”
“So this does have something to do with Wickham!”
“Indeed. I have always known about his vile propensities, but I never shared my knowledge with my sister.” Darcy went on to explain how Wickham had followed Georgiana to Ramsgate a while ago and had persuaded her to consent to an elopement.
The color drained from the earl’s face. Before he could fashion a protest, Darcy said, “Matters did not progress that far.” He went on to explain how he had arrived in Ramsgate in time to save his sister from a horrendous mistake. “I am happy to add that I owed the knowledge of the entire sordid affair to my sister herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement, and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending me and possibly wishing I might sanction the would-be alliance, acknowledged the whole of it to me. You may imagine what I felt and how I acted. Regard for my sister’s credit and feelings prevented any public exposure. I wrote to Wickham, who left the place immediately, and I removed Mrs. Younge from her charge. Wickham’s chief object was unquestionably my sister’s fortune, but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement, as well. His revenge would have been complete indeed.”
“You kept all of this from me!” the earl exclaimed. “Did you not consider that this is the sort of thing I need to know given my standing in the community—amongst the ton?” His breathing a bit shallower than usual, the earl rested his hand on his chest. “Who else knows of this? Does my son Richard know?”
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam walked into the room. Having arrived at Pemberley during the wee hours of the morning, he had missed out entirely on all the prior evening’s excitement. “Do I know what?” he asked, throwing himself into the closest chair.
“Darcy has finally seen fit to enlighten me on what occurred in Ramsgate. Did you know Georgiana was nearly tempted to engage in a scandalous elopement with the son of her father’s steward? Of course you did! Who else knows?” He looked at Darcy pointedly. “Does your wife know? Is she the one who shared this inform
ation with her silly sister?”
“Yes, my wife knows, and, no, she most certainly did not tell Mrs. Wickham. How dare you accuse her of such an indelicacy?”
“How could you have told Elizabeth and not me or Lady Ellen, for that matter? Is my wife not charged with bringing Georgiana out next Season? Surely you did not suppose Elizabeth capable of bringing out the niece of the Earl of Matlock and presenting her at court.”
“Now you dare to question my wife’s ability?”
“I question no one’s capabilities! Did you ask Lady Ellen to oversee Georgiana’s coming out as a means of thwarting Lady Catherine, or did you not? Just as it was my sister Anne’s fondest wish that you should marry young Anne, it was also her favorite wish that our sister Catherine play a part in arranging Georgiana’s coming out. I did you a great favor by siding against Catherine as you requested. I shall not be a party to disappointing my own wife.”
“I am rather certain that Lady Ellen and Elizabeth shall devise a means of sharing the responsibilities inherent in my sister’s first Season.”
At that moment, Lady Catherine, who, unbeknownst to the others, had been listening outside the door, stormed into the room. “That is where you are mistaken, Nephew. I have always questioned the wisdom of your knowingly marrying the sister of a woman who was foolish enough to run off with George Wickham. After what I learned just last evening that Elizabeth herself was once a great admirer of that despicable man—that he was a favorite of hers long before he ran off with her youngest sister, did you think I would not know how to act? Do you suppose for one moment that I will allow her to have a say in my niece’s coming out and her presentation at court? You give me no choice other than to remove Georgiana from Pemberley altogether.
“My sister must certainly be turning over in her grave knowing the type of people to whom you have exposed her precious daughter. It will take all the upcoming months under my stewardship to remove the corrupting influence those Bennets have had on my niece, and to remind her who she is and what is expected of her during her coming out season. I demand that you surrender Georgiana to my care immediately, else I shall seek legal remedy. Do not suppose for one instance that it is beyond my power.”
