A Certain Something

by Cassandra B Leigh

  How absurd you are, Lizzy. How could she have become infatuated with a man of such short acquaintance? She’d met Darcy one month ago and had only become better acquainted with him in the past few days. Had she become as silly as Lydia and Kitty, who fell in love with every man they met? Thank the heavens, she and Jane would go home in the morning and she could put the confusing man out of her mind.

  Chapter 8

  When Elizabeth and her sister returned to Longbourn on Sunday morning, Mrs Bennet greeted them with a perturbed scowl. “Why have you come home so soon?” she said.

  Although unrepentant for having foiled her mother’s scheme, Elizabeth calmly explained that there was no need to impose on Mr Bingley’s hospitality one more day. “Jane is nearly recovered and will be much more comfortable at home,” she said, to which Jane heartily agreed.

  “You should have stayed the full week. Jane would have secured Mr Bingley, and you could have tempted Mr Darcy.” When Elizabeth attempted to object, her mother scoffed. “I saw the way he looked at you. The food of love, indeed!”

  “On the contrary, Mama. No two people can have less to say to each other than Mr Darcy and I.” While this statement was only partially true, she would not allow her mother to delude herself that Darcy had any matrimonial designs on her.

  Mrs Bennet harrumphed. “You may know when a man is lying, my dear Lizzy, but I assure you, I can see when a man admires a woman, and Mr Darcy is taken with you. If you do not do everything within your power to bring him to the point, you will lose him to Miss Bingley, who has set her cap at him, make no mistake.”

  Although Elizabeth continued her denials, she failed to convince her mother. Unaccustomed to lying to her mother—or to anyone else, for that matter—Elizabeth turned her attention to her father, who affectionately welcomed her home. “There has been a marked lack of sense in this house since you went away, Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth had missed her father’s dry wit and was even glad to see her younger sisters. While they may be the silliest girls in all of Hertfordshire, at least their schemes were not as shameful as a certain lady currently residing at Netherfield Park. Now that they had finally been restored to Longbourn, Elizabeth and Jane were free to resume their usual pursuits.

  At breakfast the next morning, Mr Bennet produced a letter from his pocket; a guest was to arrive later that day. “Mr Collins is my cousin, and when I am dead, he may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases.”

  Mrs Bennet strenuously objected to the mention of the heir’s name, but Mr Bennet read the letter aloud to the family, which mentioned his steadfast loyalty to his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Upon hearing the full letter, Elizabeth concluded that William Collins must not be an intelligent man. “No, I rather think not,” Mr Bennet said with a sly smile. “His mixture of servility and self-importance intrigues me; I am impatient to meet him.”

  Her father delighted in anything ridiculous, which Elizabeth supposed was how she acquired the love of all things absurd. The study of characters, especially those with follies and nonsense, amused her, and this man was sure to provide an ample supply of both.

  Mr Collins arrived as forewarned; his formal manners and grave address were exactly as he had portrayed in his letter. Dressed in a parson’s garb, he was tall, heavy set, and prone to exaggeration and flattery. After introductions had been made, he nodded thoughtfully, appraising Elizabeth and each of her sisters as though judging livestock at the market.

  Determined to ignore the heir, Mrs Bennet remained quiet, but revived when he complimented her. “I have heard much of your daughters’ beauty, madam, but I fear those reports have fallen short of the truth,” he said with a pompous air. While her mother was flattered, Elizabeth found his obsequious gallantry uninspiring.

  At supper, he expounded at length on the excellence at Longbourn with the same critical eye as its occupants; the mantlepiece, the furniture, and the dining parlour all met with his abundant praises. Even the vegetables were subjects of his unfailing admiration.

  When Mr Bennet mentioned Lady Catherine’s name, Mr Collins solemnly extolled her benevolence in glowing terms. “Abundantly gracious, amiable, and wise for a person of rank, her ladyship has shown me every courtesy during my short tenure in the parish, and has even condescended to visit me once at the parsonage. I have often observed to Lady Catherine that her charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by her.” His high opinion of his patroness, and himself, clearly evident, he suffered no embarrassment on this supercilious commentary.

  When Mr Bennet complimented his cousin’s talent for delicate flattery, Elizabeth wondered how her father managed to maintain his determined composure after hearing such insipid folderol.

  Mr Collins chuckled quietly. “I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions. I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible.”

  Elizabeth bit her bottom lip to suppress the urge to laugh out loud at the foolish parson, who had just admitted that his fawning speeches were rehearsed.

  What a strange, tiresome creature, Elizabeth thought. She wondered whether he merely overcompensated for his lack of knowledge with rambling loquaciousness and humility or if he truly was as shallow, dull, and sanctimonious as he seemed.

  Observing people’s flaws and foibles had long been her amusement; however, her cousin’s failings were far too numerous to mention. His limited understanding became obvious, but his frequent mention of Rosings, Lady Catherine’s home, revealed a materialism not commonly associated with men of the cloth. In Elizabeth’s opinion, a parson ought not to indulge in such crass topics as the value of Longbourn’s silver and china, as though appraising the extent of his future fortune. While Elizabeth had met many men who made their living in the church, she had not yet encountered one who coveted his neighbour’s house.

  By the time the supper hour had ended, she abandoned any hope of discovering any redeeming qualities in her cousin, who abounded with contradictions: pretentious yet apologetic, pompous yet pious, elitist yet servile. His long-winded speeches about everything and nothing might have amused her had he not dwelled on each topic so thoroughly or apologised so relentlessly at the possibility of causing the least offence. While his tendency for exaggeration bordered on the fringes of deception, other than his rehearsed speeches, she observed no obvious signs of falsehoods; the man truly believed everything he said to be perfectly true. Although perspiration was an obvious sign of deceit, she thought perhaps his might be caused by a physical ailment.

  She had never encountered anyone like him. His ability to embellish surpassed even Mrs Bennet’s tendencies, and his self-importance and social climbing resembled Caroline Bingley’s. She found it highly unlikely that everything he said could possibly be true, but nothing in his physical movements or air betrayed him. He either believed his own claims or his gift for lying was greater than her gift of detection.

  When invited to read aloud to the family, he selected a volume of Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women. Elizabeth made no objection to his choice, which was far preferable to hearing another soliloquy on Lady Catherine’s benevolence or the majesty to be seen in every corner of her estate. After reading a few pages, Lydia interrupted him, announcing her plan to walk to Meryton in the morning to visit their aunt Phillips. Elizabeth reminded her sister of her manners while their cousin entertained them, but Mr Collins graciously relented, offering instead to play backgammon with Mr Bennet. Thankfully, the evening progressed without the benefit of her cousin’s continued observations.

  ***

  On Tuesday morning, Darcy and Bingley rode out to inspect the Netherfield grounds. When they approached the farthest wall, images of Elizabeth Bennet sprang to Darcy’s mind; she had climbed over that same stile on her way to Netherfield last week. Two interminable days had passed without the benefit of her company, an
d knowing she was only three miles away perturbed him more than he cared to admit. He had tried to convince himself that her absence was exactly what he needed, but he found himself wondering what she was doing and if he might find her walking the paths of Longbourn.

  Since Caroline had no rival residing at Netherfield, her relentless flattery had become more tiresome and his desire to see Elizabeth only increased. If he could convince Bingley to ride to Longbourn, he might learn how she had fared since her return home. Although reluctant to appear overeager, there could be no harm in paying a morning call on the neighbours.

  Fortunately, Bingley saved him the trouble of forming a creditable excuse. “Do you suppose Miss Bennett has fully recovered by now?” he asked. “Maybe we should call on Longbourn and check on her.”

  Darcy agreed, deciding not to mention that he had been contemplating along the same lines on a different Bennet sister.

  “Perhaps you might be in a better frame of mind if we see Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley said, his eyes gleaming with mirth.

  Darcy assumed an indifferent façade. “Why would you suggest it?”

  “I may not be as astute as you, but I know when you are flirting with a woman.” When Darcy scoffed, Bingley persisted. “You may as well admit it, Darcy; you admire her.”

  “I shall admit no such thing,” he said, to which Bingley merrily laughed.

  “Very well, then; have it your own way. If we see Miss Elizabeth, you have my leave to ignore her,” he said, then jumped over the wall and headed towards the road into Meryton.

  Darcy muttered under his breath; his friend was too clever by half. Never mind—his purpose had been served, and he would soon be graced with Elizabeth’s presence. While he fully intended to discontinue any thoughts of her once he left Netherfield, there was no need to do so just yet.

  A pleasant surprise awaited them in Meryton; the Bennet sisters were assembled near a shop window speaking with friends. Bathed in sunlight, Elizabeth appeared as lovely as ever, in Darcy’s opinion, and as he approached, she offered a fetching smile. Finding her in the highest spirits, he bade her a good morning and bowed to her sisters.

  “Miss Bennet, we were just now on our way to Longbourn to inquire after you,” Bingley said, expressing his hopes that she had fully recovered from her illness.

  “Oh yes,” Jane said, thanking them for their concern. “I am in perfect health, thanks to you and your sisters’ kind attentions.”

  Not wishing to single Elizabeth out in such a public setting, Darcy tore his eyes away from her, only to be accosted by the sight of the despicable George Wickham. Of all places for the self-serving snake to emerge from hiding, why did he have to choose Meryton? And why was he standing so close to Elizabeth? Upon observing him, Wickham turned pale and shrank in stature. Suddenly heated, Darcy clenched his jaw to suppress his rising rage; that rogue ought not be allowed in civilised circles. Bingley finished his conversation with the ladies, and when he bade the party good day, Darcy followed him back to Netherfield.

  Although incensed, Darcy maintained his composure until they had gained the Netherfield wall. With his blood boiling, he leaned forward and gave his horse free rein, hoping to dispel Wickham’s image from his mind. The beat of hooves pounding the ground matched his racing pulse. How did that blackguard dare to show his face in polite society? After what he’d done to Georgiana, he ought to be hanged at Newgate. Calling him out would have ruined Georgiana’s reputation, but how he would have enjoyed seeing Wickham’s blood flow from his sword point.

  When the manor house came into view, Darcy slowed to a canter, and Bingley caught up to him. “Who was that man, Darcy?” his friend inquired.

  “George Wickham, the scourge of Derbyshire.” He dared not relay the details of Wickham’s attempted elopement with Georgiana. If she was to make a match with a man of consequence, her past indiscretions must never be revealed. At the age of sixteen, she might never recover her reputation.

  When pressed for more details, Darcy disclosed another less sinister flaw in Wickham’s character. “His father served mine for many years as steward of the estate. I have many fond childhood memories of him, but at university, he assumed a reckless lifestyle. He is a gamer with a tendency to renege on his debts. His connection to Pemberley was so well known in the community that when he fled, I was forced to pay his debts of honour to prevent damage to the family name.”

  Bingley considered this for a moment as they slowed to a walk in the driveway. “I don’t blame you for disliking him; he deserves to lose your regard.”

  Wickham deserved much worse, but there was no point of dwelling on that now. Georgiana was safe in London in the care of a trusted footman and coachman, whom Darcy had selected himself, and a new companion whose references had been verified by his man of business.

  “I would not want my sisters to associate with a man of his stamp,” Bingley said as they approached the house.

  “Under no circumstances,” Darcy said, recalling how miserably Georgiana had suffered when Wickham abandoned her.

  They dismounted and handed their reins to the grooms who had come to take charge of the horses. “Nor should the Bennet sisters, in my opinion.” Darcy could not disagree with Bingley’s statement; no woman in the area should be subjected to the scoundrel’s whims.

  “Miss Bennet looked exceedingly well, did she not?” Bingley inquired, to which Darcy blandly agreed as they entered the house. “Miss Elizabeth never looked better, I believe,” Bingley said with a knowing smile.

  Indeed, Elizabeth had been in her best looks. When Darcy had first caught sight of her in town, he’d noticed how jolly she appeared. Now he wondered if Wickham had been the cause of her cheerfulness. Knowing Wickham’s finesse with the fairer sex, it was entirely possible that she had succumbed to his charms. No doubt he should warn her of Wickham’s proclivities; however, he must take every precaution to ensure his sister’s name was never associated with Wickham. As Georgiana’s elder brother and guardian, his most important duty was to safeguard her reputation and, thus, her future.

  Chapter 9

  As they walked back home to Longbourn, Elizabeth and Jane discussed the awkward encounter between Darcy and Wickham; neither could make any sense of it. “They must be acquainted, but it cannot be an amiable connection,” Elizabeth said. Since neither gentleman had uttered a single word during the chance meeting, she wondered aloud if they had a dispute between them.

  “You are most likely correct, Lizzy, but why would Mr Wickham fear Mr Darcy?” Jane inquired.

  Elizabeth had no answer. When Wickham noticed Darcy, his face had become ashen and his eyes had gone wide with alarm. “I hope to discover the reason tomorrow night.” The officers, including Mr Wickham, were to join them for a card party at her uncle Phillips’s house. Hopefully, she would learn what had caused the rift between the two men.

  When the Bennet ladies arrived at their uncle’s house Wednesday evening, Elizabeth feared her cousin would embarrass her even more than her sisters. Despite her admonitions, Kitty and Lydia laughed uproariously; however, Mr Collins lavished boundless praises on the house and furnishings, comparing them to the grandeur of Rosings. Aunt Phillips received these compliments with delight, seeming content to allow him to continue with his relentless flattery.

  When the officers entered the parlour with Uncle Phillips, Elizabeth considered Lieutenant Wickham the most handsome of them all. Now dressed in his regimentals, his fine form and stately air drew the notice of all her sisters. After the card tables were set out, she happily found herself as his chosen partner for a game of lottery. Enthused by the game, Lydia eagerly chatted with Mr Denny about her winnings, leaving Elizabeth free to speak with Wickham.

  Despite her curiosity about his history with Darcy, her manners prevented her from inquiring after such a personal matter; but he saved her the trouble. “How long has Mr Darcy been staying at Netherfield?” he asked.

  “About a month,” she said, then added that his home was i
n Derbyshire.

  “Indeed,” he said, nodding gravely. “I have been connected with his family since my infancy.” Elizabeth stared in astonishment. “You may well be surprised after observing the cold reception I received yesterday,” he said, shifting his eyes around the room. “Are you very much acquainted with Mr Darcy?”

  “Our acquaintance is of short duration,” she said, hesitant to disclose anything more. Even though Darcy had offended most of the community with his superior airs at the assembly, he had since acquitted himself in Elizabeth’s opinion.

  Wickham studied his cards for a moment, causing her to wonder if he would rather drop the subject, especially in such light-hearted company. As the card games progressed, the players revelled in their wins and bemoaned their losses. “I wonder whether he is likely to be in the country much longer,” Wickham said, keeping his voice low, despite the riotous clamour.

  Elizabeth could not recall any discussion about Darcy going away. “I hope your plans in favour of the militia will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood,” she said.

  “Oh no! If Darcy wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, as you may well imagine, but I have no reason to avoid him.”

  To Elizabeth’s surprise, a grey mist hovered around him. Why would he have reason to lie about Darcy?

  “His father was the greatest man who ever breathed, but I can never be in company with his son without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections.”

  The mist suddenly evaporated as he explained his connection to the Darcy family; his father had been the elder Mr Darcy’s steward for many years. He expressed his affection for the elder Darcy in such glowing terms, Elizabeth had no cause to doubt his warm regard for Darcy’s father, who was Wickham’s godfather. “Darcy’s behaviour to me has been scandalous, but I could forgive everything rather than disgracing the memory of his father.”