Cousin Emma

by Perpetua Langley

  Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke of how gratified Emily Mallory had been after being called on by the Bennets. The Colonel found himself at Stag Hill every day and he and Miss Mallory had many charming walks together. Those walks might be said to be entirely charming, were it not for Mrs. Nandy. Miss Mallory’s companion was a bit of a dragon when it came to gentlemen hanging about the place. Had women been suited to serve in the military, she might have been anybody’s reliable rearguard. Still, the Colonel could not complain overmuch—he presumed Mrs. Nandy had driven off less stalwart sorts before he had come on the scene.

  Mr. Claymore’s conversation held the most interest for Elizabeth. After establishing that his estate was not ten miles from Rosings, she said, “And are you acquainted with Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”

  “Lord, yes,” Mr. Claymore said. “We all know her. She is rather impossible to ignore. She issues invitations as if they are a summons from the palace. Which I believe she thinks they are.”

  “I hope my sister Mary will get on with her,” Elizabeth said. “She is to marry Lady Catherine’s clergyman.”

  “Your sister shall have no trouble as long as she allows the lady to roam through the parsonage on any sort of whim, commenting on what should be changed. I remember her advising my father that he ought to change all the curtains and I have already warned Charlotte that she may expect such skirmishes.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I did understand from Mr. Collins that she is excessively interested in his closets.”

  “She has an interest in everything, the lady is enormously fond of sharing her opinion. I believe my friend, James Cresswell, will marry Anne de Bourgh, and for that I salute his bravery. That bit of madness might well help your sister though—Lady Catherine will be often at Cresswell’s house, moving the furniture round.”

  The series of dances had been got through and Mr. Darcy had collected her for the one directly before supper. They did not say much during it, as if so much talk of walking at Pemberley had brought on a shyness for both of them.

  As Mr. Darcy walked her to the supper room, Emma came from behind and grabbed Elizabeth’s arm.

  Hurriedly, she said, “I am sorry Mr. Darcy, but I must steal Elizabeth away for a moment.”

  “Goodness, Emma,” Elizabeth said. “Can it not wait?”

  “It cannot,” Emma said, determined.

  Elizabeth was startled by her cousin’s serious demeanor and allowed herself to be led away. Emma hurried her down a long hall toward the library. Elizabeth noted with growing alarm that Jane waited for them at the doors.

  “Emma!” Elizabeth said. “Is somebody ill? What is it?”

  “Just come,” Emma said.

  They reached the doors quickly. Inside, Elizabeth saw Kitty sobbing and Mr. Bennet holding a note in his hand. Her father’s face was pale. Very pale.

  “What is this?” Elizabeth asked, walking quickly to her father. “What is the matter?”

  “What is the matter,” Mr. Bennet said, “is that I have allowed your younger sisters far too many liberties and now Lydia has taken the greatest liberty of all. She has eloped with Mr. Wickham.”

  “Mr. Wickham?” Elizabeth said softly.

  “Papa,” Jane said, “perhaps it is not so bad. I do not see why they should have eloped when they might have married without doing so, but all the same, he is at least a gentleman.”

  Elizabeth’s heart sank. She knew far too much about Mr. Wickham to think him a gentleman.

  “He will not marry her,” Elizabeth said. “That is why they must run off. Oh, I am sure Lydia thinks they are headed to Gretna Green, but I doubt it myself. If he meant to marry her, he would have asked papa.”

  Mr. Bennet sank into a chair. “Have I been the author of this? The ruination of my own daughter?”

  “You must not blame yourself,” Jane said to her father.

  “If I am not to blame, then who must carry this weight? My weak influence has been shown me this night. My other daughter,” Mr. Bennet said, glancing at the still sobbing Kitty, “holds a note describing the scheme and did not even see fit to alert her parents. We would not even know of it now had not Emma seen her reading it and demanded to know what it was.”

  Emma shrugged. “I only thought it might be opportuning from an officer and sought to counsel her to shred it and throw it away.”

  The gravity of the situation grew larger every minute in Elizabeth’s mind. Wickham would not take Lydia to Gretna Green. He would ruin her and cast her aside. He would ruin them all. Lady Catherine had said the Bennets were not of enough consequence for the Darcys. They were about to prove themselves wholly unworthy of any decent family.

  What of Jane? Would Mr. Bingley stay aligned with such a family? A family that would be disgraced everywhere? And Mary? She hardly need imagine the conclusion there—Mr. Collins would run as fast as his feet could take him.

  They were, all of them, to pay the heaviest price for Lydia’s crime.

  Mr. Darcy strode into the room. “Miss Bennet, I would know what has happened. Has someone fallen ill?”

  Ill. That is what Elizabeth had thought when first she entered this room. There was nobody ill, except in spirit.

  As it was her that had been addressed, it must be her that would answer. She must inform Mr. Darcy of their shame. There was no cause for delay. She had best relay the facts as quickly as possible.

  “Lydia has run off with Mr. Wickham. I believe you need not be told what that means,” Elizabeth said. “We are ruined.”

  A look of shock crossed Darcy’s features, but he quickly recovered himself. “When?” he asked.

  Elizabeth did not know the answer to that question. She turned to Kitty, who only sobbed into her sleeve. “When, Kitty?” Elizabeth asked sternly. “When did they leave?”

  “Soon,” Kitty said, sobbing.

  “Soon!” Elizabeth cried. “Why did you not say so, you ninny!”

  “Everybody was yelling at me!” Kitty said, and burst into another round of sobs.

  Elizabeth marched over to her sister. “Collect yourself this instant. Where are they to meet?”

  “At the old oak that stands in the middle of the park,” Kitty said with a hiccough. “Lydia took the carriage back to Longbourn to collect her things on the ruse that she had stained her dress and needed to change. She was to pack a small traveling bag and Mr. Wickham was to bring two horses to the oak at midnight.”

  “Are you certain, Kitty?” Elizabeth asked. “It does not make much sense. If Lydia returned to Longbourn, why do they not leave from there?”

  Kitty’s face, which was already red from crying, grew a shade deeper. “Because Wickham thought it would be a bit of fun to tease Mr. Darcy by leaving from the house he stays in on the night of the ball.”

  Through gritted teeth, Darcy said, “That I can well believe.” He turned toward the door and said, “There is still time to save your sister.”

  “I will come with you,” Mr. Bennet said. “It is right that I finally rouse myself.”

  The two men hurried from the room. The ladies waited, each silently praying that their sister could be recovered before it was too late. All silent, except Kitty.

  Katherine Bennet, between sobs, found herself mightily chastened by what she had been a party to. It had never occurred to her that Wickham might not marry her sister. It had all been fraught with romance and star-crossed lovers and declarations of undying affection. There had been notes passed and secrets whispered and Wickham had even come under Lydia’s window one night and read her a poem. Wickham had been Lord Byron in a red uniform! Now, though, she saw the circumstance for the corrupt scheme it was. Now, she saw with a clear eye how careful a lady must be with her honor.

  Darcy led Mr. Bennet out the back of the house. “We will go through the stables,” he said.

  “We need horses?” Mr. Bennet said. “I am mistaken about which oak, then. I did not think it far.”

  “You are not mistaken,” Darcy said.

 
Darcy had no need of a horse, but he did have need of something else.

  Damn Wickham! He should have seen that the man would seek to exact revenge somehow. Darcy had banned him from all polite society and Wickham might have guessed that the flow of funds in his direction was truly coming to an end.

  He presumed Wickham’s plan had been to take Lydia Bennet to London and then demand payment to marry her. He’d attempted it with Georgiana and not been successful. No doubt he would have shot higher—Miss Mallory or Miss Woodhouse—had Darcy not blocked his entry into the notice of those two ladies. Darcy could guess that Wickham had maintained access to the two youngest Bennet girls by encountering them in Meryton.

  It suddenly occurred to Darcy that Wickham could not have had any hope of getting a large sum from Mr. Bennet. No, the money was meant to come from himself. Lydia Bennet must have told him of the visit from Lady Catherine and Wickham, being the clever sort he was, had guessed there was an attachment between himself and one of the Bennets. Wickham would know that Darcy would never allow a disgrace to go forward. Not at any price.

  Wickham had been right about that. Darcy would protect Elizabeth Bennet with every guinea he had.

  He strode into the stables with Mr. Bennet jogging behind him. They came upon a large party of coachmen and stable boys passing round ale.

  The servants stopped at their approach, appearing alarmed at having been caught out. Darcy waved a hand as if to say ‘carry on,’ grabbed a whip that hung on the wall, and disappeared out the far end of the building.

  The moon was full, and Darcy noted it was a fine night for couples wishing to race toward Gretna Green. Or London, as was no doubt the case with Wickham.

  Darcy was familiar enough with the park to lead Mr. Bennet to a line of trees that would shield them from view until they were not a hundred yards from the meeting place under the oak.

  They made their way there, and Darcy soon saw the outline of a man holding two horses.

  Mr. Bennet gasped, and Darcy held up a hand to silence him. He did not only have the intention of recovering Lydia Bennet, he also had the intention of bringing his relations with Wickham to an end.

  It ended tonight.

  Once Darcy came to the spot in the trees where he would be the closest to the oak, he whispered, “Now.”

  Darcy sprinted across the lawn, hearing Mr. Bennet heavily breathing behind him. He was across it in a moment and tackled Wickham to the ground.

  “What the devil?” Wickham cried.

  Darcy stood and said, “You might well say that, had you been staring in a looking glass.”

  Wickham scrambled to his feet. “Darcy. What do you do here?”

  Mr. Bennet reached them and stared at George Wickham.

  “Mr. Bennet,” Wickham said, his voice sounding resigned. “I see you discovered our plan to wed.”

  “There was no plan to wed,” Darcy said. “There was a plan to ruin Lydia Bennet and then demand payment from me to hush it up and marry her.”

  Wickham smiled in that oily way Darcy found so distasteful. “Well, aren’t we getting prodigiously clever, Darcy. I might succeed yet, after all who really knows if I’ve had the opportunity to ruin Miss Bennet or not?”

  “I will meet you at dawn, sir,” Mr. Bennet said.

  “Good Lord,” Wickham said, laughing. “I shan’t meet anybody at dawn. What a stupid notion.”

  “There is no need of it,” Darcy said. He flicked his whip and it slashed across George Wickham’s cheek. A bright red stream dripped onto his cravat.

  Wickham put his hand on his cheek and pulled it away. He gazed at the blood on his fingers. “So like you, Darcy. Attacking an unarmed man.”

  Darcy felt his temper rising to volcanic proportions. He threw the whip down and punched Wickham in the chin. Wickham went down heavily and did not get back up.

  “Here we are!” Lydia said, laughing as she ran across the lawn. When she came near enough to see, she stopped short.

  “Papa,” she said, looking fearful. “What have you done? Have you killed him? Have you killed my Wickham?”

  “I have not, no thanks to you, dear daughter,” Mr. Bennet said. “Mr. Darcy has very kindly knocked him out, else I would have met him at dawn and no doubt been killed myself. Duels are the silliest thing a man can involve himself in, and yet I proposed to do it on your behalf.”

  “Really, papa,” Lydia said, recovering herself, “we were only running to Gretna Green. It is not a crime.”

  “Miss Bennet,” Darcy said, “I can assure you that this reprobate had no intention of taking you to Scotland.”

  “What can you mean?” Lydia said. “We had the whole thing planned out.”

  “You imagine yourself to be a worldly young lady, but you are not,” Darcy said. “Wickham is a scoundrel and would have taken advantage of your naiveté. I suppose it did not take much, only some flattery on his part.”

  Lydia’s lip trembled. Wickham moaned.

  “Mr. Bennet,” Darcy said, “take your daughter back to the house. Go in as we left and then arrange to take Lydia Bennet and Kitty Bennet home. Miss Jane Bennet should return to the supper and put it about that Lydia was taken ill and both sisters have gone. As you go through the stables, send my coachman to me. He is to bring sufficient rope to tie up this rogue. Tell your own coachman to be ready to depart.”

  “But papa!” Lydia cried.

  Mr. Bennet took his daughter firmly by the arm and marched her toward the stables.

  Darcy thought of telling Colonel Forster about Wickham’s doings, but then realized he could not. One person told was a thousand told. Just as Georgiana’s secret must not be spoken, neither could Lydia Bennet’s. Darcy thought it highly likely that Mr. Bennet might even keep it from Mrs. Bennet, and that would be well.

  No, he would tie Wickham to his horse and send the animal off. If the horse had the sense that most horses did, it would make its way back to its own stall. If it did not, Wickham might go wandering around all of England tied to his saddle for all he cared about it.

  He must be done with this creature. He must be done tonight.

  Wickham’s eyes fluttered. He opened them and then reached for his jaw, cradling it. Darcy hoped he’d broken it.

  “Miss Bennet has come and gone, back to the house with her father,” he said. “If you mention a word of this, you will lose your commission. I would urge you to hold on to that commission, as it is the only thing that stands between you and abject poverty. I will not pay you another farthing.”

  “Come now, Darcy,” Wickham said, attempting some levity, “there is always another farthing to be had. What if I were to threaten to put it about that I’d nearly eloped with Georgiana? I would do it, you know.”

  “Then you would not need your commission after all, as you would shortly be dead,” Darcy said. He kicked George Wickham in the chin and watched with satisfaction as the man screamed and then passed out.

  As Elizabeth watched Lydia come through the library doors, maneuvered firmly by their father, she was at once grateful and furious. She had a great urge to shake her sister.

  How foolish the girl was!

  At least, it had not been too late. The Bennets had most likely come within minutes of disaster. She was certain it was too late for any chance with Mr. Darcy—he had seen too much this night. But at least they would avoid a more universal censure.

  Elizabeth thought she should be vastly relieved that they were not all to be condemned, but knowing they were to be condemned by one particular gentleman felt greater than all the world.

  “Emma took the letter from me,” Kitty cried to her sister. “And then, Lydia, they all said that Wickham wouldn’t marry you. Everything he said was a lie.”

  “Shut up, Kitty,” Lydia said.

  “Our carriage comes in minutes,” Mr. Bennet said. “Kitty, prepare to depart with your sister. Lydia is ill, you understand, and you go with her, as do I. Jane, join Mr. Bingley at supper and inform him of the illness. Emma,
I must thank you for intervening in this matter and averting disaster.”

  Emma nodded. “I have been recently made to understand that I ought not interfere with others as much as I like to do. I am glad I resisted my own rehabilitation this one last time. I will go with Jane and make a great fuss about Lydia developing a cold. Kitty, I will inform Sir Harry of your departure, no doubt he will think you very tenderhearted to leave the entertainment for the care of a sister.”

  “I am tenderhearted!” Kitty said, falling into further sobs.

  “Do stop crying, Kitty,” Elizabeth said. “You are leaving to care for a sick sister, not on your way to a funeral.”

  “When these two girls get home,” Mr. Bennet said, “they may well feel as if they attend a funeral. Once the door is shut behind them it shall not be opened again for a very long time. Elizabeth, wait here with those two for the carriage, I will return in a moment. Jane, Emma, return to the dining room and do the best you can.”

  Mr. Bennet left the room. Jane and Emma followed, closing the door behind them.

  Elizabeth was left with one sister crying and the other fuming.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Darcy had tied up George Wickham, thrown him over his saddle in the most uncomfortable manner possible, and gently smacked his horse to send it on its way. The horse ambled off, the second horse following, and Darcy made his way back to the house.

  He found Mr. Bennet on the back doorstep.

  “He is secured to his saddle and on his way to somewhere,” Darcy said. “I do not particularly care where.”

  “I must thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet said. “I am afraid I am the cause—”

  Darcy waved him off. “It is as much my own doing as anybody’s. It is I who understood just how dangerous Wickham could be and failed to properly apprise the neighborhood of it.”

  “Before I set off for Longbourn and lock my daughters up forever,” Mr. Bennet said, “I do have a question. Why would Wickham think you would pay to save Lydia’s honor? You said the scheme was to hold Lydia as ransom until you paid him and he married her. I do not understand why he would have thought so.”