by Leenie Brown
“Wickham called at Hunsford?” Bingley asked.
Lady Catherine barely deigned to spare him a glance. “Mr. Wickham called on his way through Kent. He is stationed at Brighton, I believe — or was it Portsmouth?”
“Brighton,” Anne offered quietly.
“Ah, yes. Brighton is where he is stationed. He knew Mrs. Collins when she was still Miss Lucas, and he thought it his duty to wish her joy on her marriage.” She shook her head. “Mr. Collins relayed to me that his wife was greatly distressed when she heard the extent of Mr. Wickham’s trip. He was to go as far as London, but your betrothed’s,” she gave Darcy a pointed look, “youngest sister — quite the wild thing from Mr. Collins’s description — charmed Mr. Wickham into conveying her to Derbyshire under the pretense of an elopement.” Her brows rose nearly to her hairline as her scowl deepened. “He claims there was never an arrangement or anything improper between them, and Mr. Collins assured me that he believed Mr. Wickham to be true — and Mr. Collins is very good at judging character. However, they did travel alone. And this, this family of wanton women, is the one with whom you wish to align yourself?”
“Mr. Wickham told all that to Mr. Collins?” Bingley tried to keep his tone cool so as not to betray the anger he felt. He had warned Wickham about speaking of Lydia.
Lady Catherine swept her eyes from Bingley’s toes to his face and with a slightly sour look assured him that Mr. Collins had indeed heard that very thing from Mr. Wickham.
Darcy, whose shoulders had been lifting and lowering at a steady pace as he drew deep breaths, finally, spoke. “You will leave and not return. I never wish to see you again.” His voice wavered, and the murderous look had once again returned.
“You would choose her over family?” Lady Catherine asked in surprise.
“Go,” said Darcy in a low growl, pointing to the door.
“I will see you out the side door and safely to your carriage,” said Lucy, stepping between Darcy and his aunt. Thankfully, with a final look and huff at Darcy, Lady Catherine complied and was soon gone.
Bingley wished to be off after her — not to Kent, but to Brighton. However, rash decisions were not what was needed. So, instead, he looked at the men in the room with him and smiled at Darcy. “She drove from Kent to make a false claim? Do you think she might be related to my sister?” The question did as it was intended, sending a diffusing chuckle around the group.
Chapter 9
Jane stood beside her sister as they waited for Darcy’s carriage. After the morning’s service with its interesting interruption, it had been decided that an afternoon near the stream at the bottom of the hill, not far from Willow Hall and in the direction of Aldwood Abbey, would be just the thing. Each group of people had hurried off to their respective homes to divest of their fine clothing in favour of something more conducive to walking and sitting under trees while eating a light picnic. It was to be nothing formal, Mrs. Abbot had instructed, just a time of refreshment and pleasure. She would even bring the children. Darcy had insisted that he would supply transportation for Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet, and so the two ladies stood waiting for him.
“It still amazes me,” said Jane. She was speaking, of course, of Lady Catherine’s appearance at the church. It had been the topic of conversation ever since the service had ended. Jane leaned against the window frame in the sitting room. “I thought our family was the only one to have such silly women.” A small smile pulled at her lips. “Can you not see Mama doing the same?”
Elizabeth chuckled lightly. “I can, but it would have been a much bigger to-do with fluttering fans and fainting.”
Jane giggled at the image, then tipped her head and said as she saw the smile fade from Elizabeth’s face. “We shall both have relations who do not approve of us.” She reached out and took Elizabeth’s hand. “Promise me that you will not let this affect you too greatly. Mr. Darcy loves you, and that is what is most important.”
“But to be the cause of a breach such as this,” said Elizabeth.
“No,” Jane said firmly. “This breach is not your doing. It is Lady Catherine’s choice. You no more forced her to be unreasonable than I have been the cause of Miss Bingley’s scheming.”
Elizabeth gave Jane a grateful smile.
“It is true.” Jane stood up straight and, releasing Elizabeth’s hand, straightened her skirts and checked her bonnet as a carriage came into view. “You cannot believe I would have contrived to make Miss Bingley dislike me and cause me sorrow for these many months, can you?”
“Of course not,” said Elizabeth as she followed Jane from the room.
“And you did not decide when Mr. Darcy came to Hertfordshire that you would ensnare him with the intent of displeasing his family, did you?”
“I did not even like him!”
Jane smiled. “Precisely. And I am certain that you did not bat your lashes and simper when you were in Kent to draw his attentions and lead him down a merry path.” She paused just outside the door and before they were to descend the steps. “I believe a sound refusal of an offer of marriage would be proof enough of that.”
“I should think,” agreed Elizabeth.
“And after refusing him, did you arrange to meet him here in Derbyshire and expect him to renew his addresses?”
“I did not. I had hoped that should we meet, it would be as friends, but I would not have blamed him for hating me after how I had abused him.”
“Then, can you see how this is not your doing?” Jane lifted a brow in question and then, with a smile, turned to greet Mr. Bingley. She knew what Elizabeth was like when she got an idea in her head that she might be the cause of someone she loved being unhappy. A small crease would form between her brows, and her lips would purse while she looked unseeingly at some object and tried to reason out how she could fix whatever wrong had been done. However, as quick-witted as her dear sister was, there were times when Elizabeth was quite dull. It was usually just a momentary lack of judgment and clear thinking unless she stubbornly refused to listen to reason — which, thankfully, she did not seem determined to do at present. Elizabeth’s error with the man currently helping her into the carriage was likely the reason. Ever since her return from Kent, there had been a wiser air to Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy would be good for her. His steadying influence would draw her along where their father could not.
“Are you well?” asked Bingley.
“I beg your pardon,” said Jane, her cheeks coloring at having been caught woolgathering, “I am well. I was just lost in thought.”
“Pleasant thoughts, I hope,” he replied with a smile.
Jane assured him that they were. “I was merely thinking how good Mr. Darcy will be for my sister.” The admission was barely louder than a whisper.
Bingley nodded his agreement. “And she will be good for him,” he added in a whisper as he helped Jane into the carriage where she took a seat on the bench with Elizabeth and Georgiana.
“I feel I must once again apologize for my aunt,” said Darcy as the carriage began moving.
“If we are to take the role of bearer of all the ills of our relations, then you might have the driver stop near the deeper end of the river, and I shall cast myself into it,” said Bingley with a playful smile. “Did I tell you that my loving sisters treated Miss Bennet very ill when Miss Bennet was in town?”
“No,” said Georgiana, eagerly, earning a glare from her brother.
“Well, they did. Miss Bennet was kind enough to call on them, and they repaid her kindness by not telling me about her call and then waiting an inexcusable length of time before returning the call.”
Georgiana gave a little gasp.
“Precisely,” said Bingley, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Miss Bennet was, of course, left to think we were no longer friends.” He smiled. “Which, I assure you, is not the case.”
Jane blushed prettily and looked away.
Georgiana’s eyes grew wide, and she leaned forward toward Bingley. “Ar
e you more than friends?” she asked in a whisper.
“Georgiana,” snapped Darcy.
Georgiana immediately apologized for the impertinence.
“See,” said Bingley, with a wink at Georgiana. “If anyone is to be found guilty of having ill-behaved relations, it is I. Caroline would never have responded to a reminder so well.” He then leaned toward Georgiana and whispered, “I believe, we are.”
“You are quite impossible yourself,” Darcy chided Bingley.
“Do not worry on my account,” said Jane softly. “I am not offended, nor am I unacquainted with sisters who do as they wish instead of as they should. I have four such sisters.”
Elizabeth gasped.
“The three youngest are the worst for it,” Jane added quickly, “but none of them do as I would think they should, and do you know why?”
Georgiana shook her head.
“For the same reason your brother does not do as you would always wish he would. He is not you.” She smiled at Mr. Darcy, who had inclined his head in acceptance of her argument. “And yes, I also believe we are more than friends,” she whispered to Georgiana, “which, I suspect, was exactly the thing Miss Bingley wished to prevent by her behaviour.”
Georgiana opened her mouth and then with a glance at her brother closed it again.
“What is it?” Jane encouraged her. “You may ask if I give you permission. May she not, Mr. Darcy?”
“It is impertinent,” explained Georgiana.
“I am not a stranger to impertinence either,” assured Jane. “Remember, I have four younger sisters,” she whispered. “And we are to be sisters in a roundabout way.” Jane looked to Mr. Darcy. “May she ask?”
“You are certain you wish it?”
“I am not unaware of what sort of box I might be opening,” Jane assured him.
“Very well, then you may ask, Georgiana.” Darcy held up a finger. “But, Miss Bennet may choose not to answer if she wishes.”
Georgiana’s head bobbed her agreement. “I was merely curious about Captain Harris. He has called on you so many times that I thought perhaps…” her voice trailed off.
Jane smiled. “You thought I preferred him?”
“Yes.”
“I did not.” She drew a deep breath. “Since last September, I have not preferred any gentleman above Mr. Bingley.” Her cheeks, she knew, were a brilliant shade of red as she looked at Mr. Darcy. “I may not have been obvious in my preference — in fact, a friend, in concern for my happiness told me I should not be so cautious — I, however, did not listen. It is not an error I will make a second time.”
“Which is how it should be with errors.” Darcy’s smile was understanding and perhaps a bit sheepish. “We should strive only to make them once if we must make them at all.”
“Indeed,” said Jane.
The carriage rolled along for a few turns of the wheels in relative silence as conversation naturally took a respite.
“We will have to walk from here,” said Darcy as the vehicle began to slow. “It is not far, however.”
The passengers disembarked, and as the men saw to the baskets, Georgiana, Jane, and Elizabeth joined arms and walked on ahead.
“I am glad you do not prefer Captain Harris,” said Georgiana. “Mr. Bingley is a much finer choice.”
“You,” Jane began and then stopped.
“Yes?” prompted Georgiana.
“You never have…” Jane was not certain how to ask what she wished to know.
“Miss Bingley wrote a letter,” said Elizabeth, looking at Jane, who nodded that that was the topic she was trying to broach. “In this letter, Miss Bingley insinuated that your brother hoped to see an arrangement between yourself and Mr. Bingley.”
Georgiana’s eyes grew wide, and her mouth dropped open. She looked first to Elizabeth and then to Jane. “Mr. Bingley and me?” She shook her head. “Oh, you will not cause me an ounce of pain!” she cried. “I assure you, I see him as nothing more than another brother.”
Jane sighed in relief. “I had thought it might be another ploy of Miss Bingley’s, but I had to be certain.”
“I should not say it,” said Georgiana with a glance over her shoulder towards her brother, “but I do not like Miss Bingley, and she does not truly like me. She likes my brother because of his money. I do not think she is capable of liking anyone but herself. So, I am certainly glad Miss Elizabeth will be my sister and not her.” Her face pinched as if in pain. “I am sorry that she will be yours.” Her eyes grew wide as if realizing she had misspoken. “That is, if you marry Mr. Bingley.”
Elizabeth laughed. “If she does not marry him, I shall be very surprised.”
“He has only to ask me,” whispered Jane.
Georgiana glanced over her shoulder again. Seeing that her brother was far enough away to not overhear, she continued. “I also do not like Captain Harris.”
Jane’s brows furrowed. “You do not?”
Georgiana shook her head. “He talks too much. I prefer quiet to excessive conversation.”
Jane had to agree with that assessment. It was something she had also noticed.
“And I know my brother would scold me for this, and rightly so, but about three years ago, Captain Harris was nearly engaged to a lady.” She glanced again at her brother. “The lady disappeared, and her father was found dead.”
This information was shocking to both Elizabeth and Jane.
“It was so long ago now that no one speaks of it, but at the time, I heard the maids whispering that Captain Harris had some part in it.”
“Captain Harris?” Elizabeth asked in surprise.
Georgiana nodded. “No one was sorry the lady’s father died. He was not kind to any of his servants, nor was he kind to his daughter. They say he wished to break her heart, so he sent her away and when Captain Harris called and found out that she was gone, he strangled her father in a fit of rage. It is only a story, of course, and likely not a whit of it is true, but I have never felt completely at ease around him.”
“He seems so pleasant,” said Jane. “I cannot imagine him being violent.”
Georgiana shrugged. “He is pleasant, and as I said, the story is likely just the work of someone’s imagination. But I do not like him and am glad you are not going to marry him.”
Jane smiled. “Well, I have to agree with that last bit. I am glad that I am not marrying him either, for my heart would have never been truly happy.”
This statement turned the conversation toward love and what each thought was important in a match.
Chapter 10
Bingley took his turn perched on a rock next to the stream, net in hand, attempting to catch a fish.
“There,” Lydia pointed to the right, “get him.”
Bingley drew the net through the water, but the fish darted away just as he reached it. “You have a good eye for this, Miss Lydia.”
Lydia smiled. “I do, but then, I have always noticed details. There.” She pointed to the right again. “He has come back.”
Bingley once again tried to scoop up the fish in the net.
“Perhaps if you were to move your net next to that pile of rocks and just wait, he will come back again,” suggested Lydia, and then she sighed. “It is rather hard to just sit and wait, though.”
Bingley had to agree. Waiting was not something which came easily to him. He tended to be impatient and wish for quick action, but he also knew that sometimes, patience was precisely what was needed. He had learned that from watching his father. His father was an accomplished negotiator with a calm demeanor and a longsuffering temperament — at least in the presence of those with whom he wished to strike a deal. Often, he would come out of the transaction the victor, having secured exactly what he wanted, but other times, he would come away only nearly satisfied.
“You must know the most important items and not waiver on those, Son, but you must also have a list of things which are of marginal importance.” He would chuckle. “Indeed, you should i
nclude at least one thing that you do not wish for at all. Then, it will be the first item to be shifted; followed in order by the other items on your list of margins. But never compromise on the items of greatest importance. Walk away if necessary. No deal is worth giving up what is most important to you, your business, and your family.”
How often had he heard this same lecture from his father?
Bingley’s eyes shifted from the net in the water to where Jane sat. He had compromised what was of greatest value once, but he would not do so again.
“Now,” whispered Lydia.
Bingley swiftly drew the net up and under the fish, lifting it victoriously.
Lydia clapped her hands, drawing everyone’s attention to the fish she and Mr. Bingley had caught.
Bingley chuckled. He had not thought much of Miss Lydia when they had first met. She was just a young, flirtatious girl, given to outbursts of impropriety, but now that he had seen her several times in company, he had to admit that although she was still not always sensible, he preferred her sweet nature to that of his own sisters. There was little pretense with Miss Lydia — oh, there was scheming to be certain, but for the larger part of their new acquaintance, he had found her to be quite forthright.
He allowed her the privilege of carrying the net to Mr. Abbot, so that the fish could be put into the basket, while he sat for a moment longer on the rock near the water’s edge and turned his attention back to Jane.
Patience had won him the fish, and patience would prove his worth to Jane. He must deal with Wickham’s breach of contract, but he could write to a friend. He did not need to see to it himself. Indeed, it might be best if he did not see to it himself. He rose and rolled his shirtsleeves down over his forearms.
“Nice work,” said Richard, coming to take Bingley’s place with the net.
Lydia was not far behind. It seemed she had appointed herself fishing instructor. No matter how Marcus scowled or attempted to draw her away, she was determined that everyone who wished a turn to catch a fish would be successful. Besides, she had said on more than one occasion with a bright smile, fish were delicious, and she would not be eating cold meat and cheese for supper.
