Oh, what a relief it was, she thought, that she could say those words and not their alternative; the disaster that could so easily have befallen them and kept Darcy away from her forever.
She looked up at him. She knew he was not a man of many words, but it was the custom to offer congratulations in the event of such news. His lip curled.
“Is that so? I was not aware.”
“Yes,” she said, amused. “Though I can’t think how you would be aware of such things. Are you so connected in England that all unions are regularly reported to you?”
She said it lightly, in jest. But her words seemed to have the perverse effect of making him even more unsettled.
“Gracious me,” he muttered. “I did not realise.”
And then he was off, hurrying away from her and out the gate without so much as a goodbye.
Lizzy watched him go, perplexed. What had caused such a reaction in him? She could only conclude that his prejudice towards her family ran deeper than he had cared to admit.
Perhaps my first instinct about him was correct, she thought, feeling bitterly disappointed.
Chapter 33
There was no time for Lizzy to dwell on Darcy’s strange behaviour. She hurried back to the house to announce the early arrival of the Wickhams.
To observe Mrs. Bennet’s behaviour, one might have thought she was hosting royalty. The best lamb was slaughtered and one of the servants was sent to the butcher in Meryton to buy only the finest cuts of meat that weren’t readily available on the Longbourn farm. Lizzy was surprised that her parents stopped short of throwing a feast for the entire town of Meryton.
The rest of the family, with the exception of Kitty, were rather more subdued about the arrival of their guests. Each one remembered the pain caused by Lydia’s thoughtlessness and foolish actions.
They put their true feelings aside as soon as Lydia arrived, though. It was made easier by the fact that a commission had been purchased for Wickham in Newcastle: it was unlikely that Lizzy would see much of the newlyweds in the near future.
And a lucky thing too, she thought.
It did not take her youngest sister long to turn the conversation to her marriage. It was as if that broken-down young woman in the lodging house in London had never existed. Lydia was back to her confident self, happiest when she was holding forth with some story of her own antics. Lizzy listened with awe—she could not believe Lydia was brazen enough to brag about her nuptials. Not when they all knew the full story. Lydia caught her eye.
“Oh, Lizzy. Wait until you hear about the debacle with my wedding gown.”
“That is quite alright,” Lizzy muttered, focussing on her soup.
Lydia laughed mockingly. “What is it, Lizzy? Why can’t you be happy for me? I know you are older, but you shall find a husband soon. Perhaps. Though there is a chance you are too disagreeable.”
“Disagreeable?” Lizzy hissed, keeping her tone as even as possible. “Did you think me disagreeable the last time we spoke?”
Even this obvious reference to Lydia’s downfall had no impact on the girl. Lizzy refused to stoop any lower—in her mind, she had been cruel enough. She pictured her sister in that awful room and could only feel sympathy for her. After all, how long would it be before Wickham fell back into his old ways?
Lydia, for her part, was not in the slightest bit affected by Lizzy’s words. “Perhaps Mr. Darcy might be a match,” she laughed, grinning around at the table at large. “You share a great sense of your own importance. And you are both ever so serious!”
Lizzy scoffed. No one in their family knew what had passed between Darcy and Lizzy and she was determined to keep it that way. “That is a ridiculous thing to say. What do you even know of the man? You haven’t seen him in a year and even then you didn’t—”
“I saw him last week, if you must know. There you are, Lizzy. You aren’t the source of all knowledge.”
“Don’t be preposterous, Lydia. You must have thought you saw him. Why, I’d bet you don’t even remember what he looks like.”
“He was at my wedding, if you must know,” she said, smiling triumphantly.
“Nonsense.”
“He was! He is a good friend of Wickham’s. Ouch! Why would you elbow me so, husband?” She tittered. “Excuse me. Wickham has just reminded me that I wasn’t supposed to say anything on that subject.”
Lizzy tried to question her, but Lydia remained uncharacteristically coy—on that matter, anyway. On everything else, she held forth as if she had overnight gained twenty years on her sisters.
“You must come and stay with me, Lizzy. I shall escort you to parties. We might even find you a husband.”
“That’s ever so kind, Lydia. But I can’t say I approve of your methods for finding husbands.”
If it was anyone else, they might have shrivelled with embarrassment, but Lydia was quite unaffected. The girl was shameless. Slowly, Lizzy began to see Darcy’s words for what they were: the truth. How could she deny that some of her family members’ behaviour was questionable at best?
Once dinner was finished, Lizzy excused herself and hurried upstairs. She had only one thing on her mind now: she must write to her aunt and discover the truth behind Lydia’s outburst. Lydia had been confined to the house in Gracechurch-street, so Mrs. Gardiner would know exactly whom she had seen on the day of her marriage.
She did not see Darcy over the next several days. Anger soon gave way to anxiety, before she remembered his absolute disgust at Wickham’s arrival and became outraged again. All the while, she studiously avoided Lydia and spent most of the mornings lingering outside and waiting for the post to arrive.
Thankfully, her aunt must have sensed her urgency. A letter arrived from London so soon that Lizzy suspected Mrs. Gardiner had written immediately after reading her own letter.
Lizzy could barely stand to wait until she got upstairs, but she did not wish to rouse suspicion. She closed her door and threw herself on her bed. Only then could she bring herself to break the seal and pull out the sheets of notepaper.
Her eyes widened as she skimmed over the unexpected words. She had half expected her aunt to react with surprise and cast scorn on Lydia as a daydreamer and a fool. Instead, Mrs. Gardiner confirmed Lydia’s account, albeit with much more detail and clarity.
Lizzy gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth as she learned of the true extent of Darcy’s involvement in the marriage. It was he who had tracked down the errant groom for the second time. It was he who had singlehandedly negotiated a settlement. He had only approached the Gardiners when the matter was all but settled. His only request had been that they keep the matter secret and allow the Bennets to think that they had been the benefactors.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy,” Lizzy whispered.
By now, tears were streaming down her cheeks as she learned of the real reason for Darcy’s dislike of Wickham.
“I judged you most cruelly,” she muttered. “And it turns out that you were the most generous friend my family has ever had the good fortune to know.”
One thing was certain, though. He must have learned of Lydia’s condition after his proposal. He was too proper; he would never have asked her to marry him if he had known at the time.
Chapter 34
Darcy stayed away from Longbourn for the next several days. He had no wish to interact with that damnable Wickham. Nor did he have any great affection for the man’s new bride.
It was fortunate that Charles Bingley spent much of this time at Longbourn. Not fortunate in the sense that Darcy was left with his friend’s sister, whom he was beginning to despise; more that Bingley became a useful conduit of information from that house.
And so it was that Darcy set out for Longbourn barely two hours after the Wickhams had said their tearful goodbyes and departed on their journey north. The house was in his sights when he realised to his dismay that he had no idea what he was going to say to the young lady who inhabited his dreams and his every waking thought.
He need not have worried. Before he reached the door, it flew open and Miss Elizabeth stood on the threshold regarding him with such warmth as he had never felt before. Certainly not such genuine warmth: he had experienced the artificial kind on many occasions and had become adept at spotting it.
Instead of waiting there, she hurried towards him. For a perplexing moment, he thought she was going to leap at him. In the event, though, she stopped short of him, struggling for breath.
“Mr. Darcy,” she whispered, staring up at him, eyes shining.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he muttered. “I can’t help but notice you seem to hold me in far greater regard than you did the last time we spoke.”
Her expression softened even more. She gestured past them to the garden. He nodded and they moved in silence. He glanced up at the house and felt sure he saw a face in one of the upper floor windows. When he looked back it was gone.
“Mr. Darcy, I must thank you most effusively for what you have done. You have saved my family; of that I am sure.”
He frowned, unable to believe what he was hearing. He had been clear on this, he thought. He had told the Gardiners that he wanted nothing more than their discretion. “Whatever do you mean?”
She seemed surprised. “Your intervention in the sensitive matter concerning my sister.”
He grunted. So she has been told. “I must say I am disappointed. I asked your aunt and uncle to keep the matter private.”
“No,” she whispered, looking haunted. “Do not blame my aunt. My sister mentioned something at the dinner table, and I established from that that you were in some way involved. To her credit, she realised her mistake and would not tell me anything more.”
“I see,” he said, sitting on the bench they had shared several days previously.
“Yes.” She hesitated before joining him. “Well, it does not matter how I found out. I know now. Mr. Darcy, it is the most generous thing anyone has ever done for my family and I cannot thank you eno—”
“I did not do it for your family.” His heart hammered in his chest. Now, he realised, was the moment he had been planning for since his arrival at Netherfield. “I did it for you. Only for you.”
Her eyes widened and he could see from the rapid rise and fall of her chest that she was struggling to breathe just as much as he was.
“Thank you,” she said again.
“You do not need to thank me. It was a selfish deed. It meant a lot to me to know you were happy and out of a dire situation. The thought of you searching for her in Clerkenwell was most distressing.”
“Ah, yes,” she said, blanching. “Perhaps my aunt must have mentioned it to you when you so kindly assisted with the marriage.”
He stared at her. Should he acknowledge he knew the truth? Would her pride be able to bear it? Yes, he decided. He must. There would be no secrets between them any longer.
“No. I knew before that.”
She flushed. “I thought…”
“No.” He shook his head. He wanted so much to take her in his arms at that moment. “Miss Elizabeth, my feelings have not changed. I swore I would not harass you after you turned me down, but the truth is I cannot keep my word. If your feelings are unchanged, just say the word and I shall never bother you again.”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. He leant closer, urging her to break her silence and end the suspense that hung over him.
“My feelings are unchanged,” she whispered.
It was as if all the breath left his body. He gasped for air, struggling to regain his composure.
“No, Darcy,” she said, gently, laughing and weeping alternately. “No, that is not what I meant. You see, I loved you then as I love you now. It was only my sister’s situation that kept me from accepting your proposal.”
He shook his head blindly. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, do not pretend you don’t know, Darcy!” she laughed. “I thought there was no sense in accepting your proposal only to have my heart broken when you learned the truth and then went to any lengths to end the engagement. Also.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I loved you too much to pull you into a scandal such as the one I felt sure we would all be embroiled in.”
“But… I…” he swallowed and tried to order his thoughts. “But I knew about your sister. At the time I did not know it was Wickham.”
“Darcy,” she cried, tears staining her beautiful cheeks. “How could you have known? You would never have asked for my hand in marriage. I know you; I know how important social convention is to you—”
“I am telling you,” he cried. “Please believe me. I knew as much of your situation as was relevant. And I wanted to marry you anyway. It is not material whether I thought it was some anonymous young fool or Wickham.”
“Would you… would you have become involved if it was not Wickham? My aunt briefly described your history with him—she had to, in order to explain your involvement.”
He held his hand up. “No… it is complicated. You see, I had no advantage when it was simply a young man whose name we did not know. It angered me and kept me from sleeping. But when I learned that the young man was none other than George Wickham, my involvement changed. Not because I wished to gain revenge on him—if anything, this has greatly improved his situation. No, I realised I might be able to help find him and resolve the matter.”
She smiled and reached for his hand.
He laughed. “And as for propriety, Miss Elizabeth, it pains me that you believe that of me. I am not a stuffy fool. That day in my library, I simply sought to protect you from the acid tongue of my friend’s sister.”
“You knew, even then?” she gasped.
He nodded. “I’m afraid so. I am sorry if it causes you embarrassment, but I have made a decision. I shall only ever be honest with you.”
She smiled. “And I make the same promise to you.”
A strange, awkward sort of silence fell over them then. It was as if the matter had been concluded, though they had not alluded to it directly. He cleared his throat.
“Will you do me the honour of being my wife?”
She looked at him, half stunned. “Yes,” she whispered, voice hoarse and filled with emotion. “A thousand times yes.”
Chapter 35
Mr. Bennet was somewhat bemused by his daughter’s complete about-turn when it came to the perplexingly serious Mr. Darcy, but he was quickly won over to that gentleman when his second daughter told him of Darcy’s intervention in the Lydia affair. Mrs. Bennet had no such initial qualms—and she did not know of Darcy’s hand in Lydia’s wedding, at that gentleman’s request—her squeals of joy could be heard half a mile away when Lizzy asked for her permission. From that day onwards, Mrs. Bennet leapt at any excuse she could to venture to Meryton. Her neighbours and friends soon grew weary of hearing again of Mrs. Bennet’s great fortune in having her daughters so advantageously matched. Wickham was soon deposed as her favourite son-in-law or future son-in-law, and Darcy soon found himself the holder of this dubious and perplexing honour. He handled it as well as could be expected and earned great favour from Lizzy for managing to do so.
In fact, Elizabeth Bennet was so well regarded in Meryton and the surrounding areas that not a single person could be heard wishing her ill.
Except for one.
Miss Caroline Bingley was utterly appalled when her brother returned from Longbourn on that fateful day. She had taken to using her ankle injury as an excuse to avoid that place, and so far it had been working in her favour. Though she knew Darcy had a lingering affection for Miss Eliza, Caroline had consoled herself with the knowledge that he would never dream of proposing to a woman from that family. To solidify her point, she had taken to referring to Lydia’s London activities on an almost daily basis. Darcy hadn’t said much, but she had sensed his disapproval and distaste every time she slipped the matter into their conversations.
So it was most alarming indeed when Charles casually informed her that Darcy had chosen to remai
n at Longbourn a little longer, owing to the exciting developments of the day. At first, Caroline had assumed he was referring to a particularly bountiful hunt: that was how ludicrous an engagement it was—she had not even contemplated the idea of Darcy actually condescending to marry that girl!
Caroline slept fitfully in the drawing-room, refusing all offers of help up the stairs. The truth was she did not need the help. There was nothing wrong with her ankle; nor had there ever been. It was infuriating: by feigning injury, she had been unable to protect Darcy. Then she had been remiss enough to believe that Darcy would never lower himself like that.
“I’ve been a fool!” she cried, much to the alarm of the maid who was tending to the fire nearby.
Darcy exclaimed in alarm. No sooner had he entered Netherfield than some agitated individual was running at him. He soon saw it was Miss Bingley and put out a hand to steady her.
“Miss Bingley! Has something happened to Charles?”
“No,” she muttered. “But he told me the most terrible rumour. He said you were to be married to Miss Eliza! Imagine it!”
At first, he was taken aback; then he felt offended on his dear Elizabeth’s behalf. Then he simply smiled: for he knew that was what Elizabeth herself would do. And now he saw why: it caused Miss Bingley to almost leap out of her skin in annoyance.
“I have imagined it, many times,” he said serenely.
“But Darcy,” she muttered. “She is not a suitable match for you! Have we not discussed at length the disgrace of her sister? Oh, I know she has been married now, but that is nothing more than a rather careless bandage applied to a critical injury, do you not think?”
Darcy shrugged. This was no surprise to him, really, but he was shocked at the extent of her vehemence. “Charles would never utter such words.”
Mr Darcy to the Rescue: A Pride and Prejudice Regency Variation Page 12
