The Red Chrysanthemum

by Linda Beutler

  Elizabeth burned with curiosity and felt — what with gaping between one sister and the other — that she might have looked like a confused fish. “Oh, certainly! We shall ask you no questions.” But I must know all! How could this be? And Jane did not know? Our aunt must know more.

  “Thank you!” Lydia giggled like the naughty child she was. “For if you did ask, I should certainly tell you all, and then Wickham would be angry.” Lydia spoke as if drawing Wickham’s disapprobation did not concern her in the least.

  In a typical fit of agitation, Elizabeth bolted from the room and stood panting in the hallway. There was nothing for it but to write to her aunt immediately, applying to know why, of all men, Fitzwilliam Darcy would stand up with Wickham. Her letter to Aunt Gardiner was brief and to the point.

  By contrast, the letter Elizabeth received in response was lengthy and bearing every particular of Darcy’s involvement in the finding, negotiation, and marrying of George Wickham to Lydia Bennet. Mrs Gardiner alluded to some early assistance from Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the far greater share of credit belonged to Darcy, and he alone bore the monetary expense. Only Mrs Gardiner’s conjectures about Wickham’s injuries were withheld.

  Even in the face of the evidence presented to her, Elizabeth was stupefied. She had taken herself into a remote part of the garden to read the letter. Now she wandered amongst the flowers noticing nothing, being otherwise occupied with feelings of mortification on Darcy’s behalf, remorse that her family needed to be the unwitting recipients of such generosity, and astonishment that it was generally assumed he had taken on these burdens because of his regard for her. Astonishment gave way to a tender sort of satisfaction, and she was well on her way to being justifiably proud of Darcy when she heard someone approaching. She turned to see Wickham, wearing his closed-mouth grin.

  “Dear Sister, I hope I am not an unwelcome interruption.”

  Instantly on her guard, Elizabeth smiled warily, and without giving the appearance of wanting to run away — although she did — her feet turned back to the house, slowly, giving the impression that he might walk with her, but the conversation would be brief. She could end it on some pretext when they reached the front door.

  “We were always good friends,” Wickham stated hopefully.

  “Yes, of course we were. Are the others coming out?” Elizabeth did not wish to be alone with him.

  “Lydia and Mrs Bennet are taking the carriage into Meryton. I believe they are to visit Lucas Lodge.”

  Elizabeth looked away. The volume of gossip such a visit would produce was beyond measure. That some secret from Lydia would become generally known, or some conjecture of her mother’s about herself and Darcy would be spread across the countryside as fact, was inescapable. And now she had to bear the company of Wickham by herself.

  He cleared his throat before saying, “Do I understand correctly from your aunt and uncle that you have seen Pemberley?”

  Ah! So you wish to know how much of the truth I have been told, do you? Is it even in you, George Wickham, to be embarrassed? “Yes, indeed, I have. It was everything you described and more.”

  “I envy you the pleasure. It would be too much for me to visit again or I would take it in for Lydia’s sake on the way to Newcastle.”

  Elizabeth could not look at him.

  “You saw the old housekeeper, dear Mrs Reynolds? She was always fond of me. But now I am sure she would not mention my name.”

  “Oh, but she did. She heard you were making your career in the military. She said she was afraid” — Elizabeth paused for effect — “you had not turned out well. At such a distance, well, facts may get strangely misrepresented.” But not in this case. Elizabeth gave Wickham a knowing glance and looked away again.

  Wickham was silenced only momentarily. “I was surprised to see Darcy in town last month. We passed several times, and it left me wondering what he was doing there at this time of year.”

  Are you worried your new wife has not kept your secrets? And so, you should be. Or do you wish to know the depth of my acquaintance with the Darcys? “Perhaps he was on some business for his aunt or preparing for his betrothal to Miss de Bourgh.”

  Wickham reminded Elizabeth of a small boy with a skinned knee, worrying a scab. He asked whether she had seen Darcy in Lambton and what she thought of Georgiana. He wondered whether she had seen the parsonage at Kympton. If it is blood he wants, he shall get it.

  “No, Mr Wickham, I never did visit Kympton. But I was given to understand that there was a time when settling there and making sermons was not so palatable to you. In fact, you declared you would never take orders and were compensated from the estate in a manner more agreeable to you.”

  “Oh! Um…well. That is not wholly without foundation. You may remember I told you something of that when we first met.”

  She met his eyes implacably. You liar! Such a man! I would slap you, had not someone stronger beaten me to it recently. You think my memory both short and faulty? Wickham saw the flash of anger and flinched; at last he looked away.

  Knowing he would now comprehend she had made more honest allegiances, she smiled a little. “Oh come, Mr Wickham. As you like to remind me, we are brother and sister now. Do not let us quarrel about the past.”

  They were at the door of the house, and Elizabeth held out her hand. He kissed it, glad to be looking at her hand rather than her piercing eyes. The two former friends exchanged barely half a dozen words together over the remainder of the visit.

  * * *

  With the Longbourn small parlour to herself, Elizabeth decided she must write to Georgiana to let her know that she was aware of Darcy’s secret and, once again, had misjudged him.

  Longbourn, Hertfordshire

  Friday, 28 August, 1812

  Dear Georgiana,

  Lately I have heard a report of your brother, which fills me with astonishment. My youngest sister is visiting — for ten very long days — and as she described her wedding to me, she let slip that your brother, of all people, attended the ceremony. Before checking herself, she said he stood as groomsman. I was amazed to hear it. Lydia then admitted she had been sworn to secrecy and said no more. Not wanting to appear interested in such a loathsome but necessary event, I did not inquire of her further — it must be admitted I ran from her presence rather than give her the satisfaction of observing my overwhelming curiosity — but I can own it to you that I am not disinterested.

  Perhaps you know me well enough to realise I am an unusually — my mother says disturbingly — inquisitive creature, and so I applied to my Aunt Gardiner to learn how Mr Darcy came to be involved in the wedding. Her response is before me, and has set down such a tale as has my head spinning.

  I can only assume that, like Lydia, you have been sworn to an oath of silence on the subject, and I would not break a sacred bond between a brother and sister I have come to admire so well. Having said that, I will quote here a few particulars from my aunt’s letter, asking only that you vouch for them. A simple yes or no will do; I shan’t trouble you for more.

  Here Elizabeth inserted several sentences from her aunt’s letter, hoping she had quoted enough to assure a response from Georgiana.

  Now I must ask you to do for me what I must assume you have done for your brother. I bid you keep my present inquiry secret since it is abundantly clear that Mr Darcy does not wish for my family or me to know any of the particulars of the settlement with the person whose name I cannot at this moment bear to write. That your dear brother is deserving of a vast deal of gratitude — but would have the acknowledgement of it bestowed on my uncle instead — is yet another grander example of the depth of his goodness. He is the best man I have ever known.

  Am I safe to assume that not only yourself, but also Mr Bingley, is aware of your brother’s generosity to all my family? Jane has said there is a prodigious quantity of correspondence between the two friends, and Bingley says only that he will have no secrets from Jane once they are married, meaning he will tel
l her nothing now. If Bingley has not done so, you might inform your brother that the couple now about to settle in Newcastle will not be returning to Hertfordshire for at least two years and likely longer. I am happy to report that Mr Bingley has begun the marriage settlement discussion with my father, and then a date will be set.

  Do not attribute to gratitude the fact that your brother is dearer to me than he ever was before. My feelings are more complicated than that. My appreciation of his attention to my poor sister is only the smallest part of my regard for him.

  In reviewing this letter, I see I have declared my affection for your brother. I will not change what I have written. Please be honest with me, Georgiana, and tell me whether I have no hope of his forgiving my own past missteps and those of my family. He may have told you that I have forgiven him any slights or errors in manners he thinks he may have committed against me. Indeed, I think I did so when we came upon each other accidentally at Pemberley. It was a numinous moment, and I believe it worked a change in us both.

  Yours truly,

  Elizabeth Bennet

  * * *

  Darcy House, London

  31 August, 1812

  Dear Elizabeth,

  The account of my brother’s involvement regarding the Wickhams’ nuptials and financial settlement, as stated by your aunt, is true in every part as quoted. My situation is as you suspect, and I will say no more on the topic.

  Your letter fills me with delight. Please keep me apprised of the plans for Jane and Bingley’s wedding. I intend to be there.

  But what pleased me most about your letter, dearest Lizzy, is that you have, for the first time, freely admitted your fond regard for my brother. How very vexing you are to bind me in an oath to seal my lips, but sealed they shall be since you wish it. I would not make a similar sacrifice for anyone excepting you, dear friend.

  As for your closing comments about your affections and those of my brother: once the unfortunate couple are gone, I daresay he will be at your side in a thrice. There has indeed been an increase of correspondence betwixt my brother and Mr Bingley. Make of it what you will, but I believe Charles wishes my brother to come to Netherfield. I shall push for this from my end. Of course, with one of our foxhound bitches just delivered of a fine litter, perhaps Charles is only trying to procure the pick of it, but I think there is more to it than that!

  Your dear friend,

  Georgiana

  When Mrs Bennet saw the letter from Darcy House amongst the family post, she erupted with unrestrained glee.

  “Oh, Lizzy, it is good you have attracted such a highly placed connection. When Miss Darcy comes out, she will want a friend to accompany her to all the society to-doings and may well invite you to town for a season. Make of it what you can, dear.” Mrs Bennet paused and looked lovingly at her second eldest daughter. “Do not think I will ever forget, dearest girl, how kind you were to encourage Mr Darcy for Jane’s sake. I know it was against your inclination. Since we have heard nothing of him, we must assume Mr Darcy has better manners when at home than he does in society. But if he attends Jane’s wedding, we shall be more than civil to him, for he has, through you, Lizzy, influenced his friend for Jane. I like him more already than ever I did. That you have made a friend of his sister is well deserved and may be the making of you in society, Lizzy. It may well be.”

  Lydia overheard her mother. The whole turn of events made her quite cross. It was not enough to be the only Bennet sister married, she wanted also to be the only Bennet sister to be happy. Since his bludgeoning by angry officers in London, Wickham was less tender towards her and less susceptible to her attempts to lure him into marital relations. Their noisy congress during their first night at Longbourn was not to be repeated, and Lydia was not at all confident about the healing of his face. She would need to be a scold to keep him from appearing lopsided. Her handsome Wickham was no more.

  Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire

  5 September, 1812

  Dear Darcy,

  The newly married couple, with whom you have lately spent far too much time, has this morning quitted the neighbourhood. Please come to Netherfield with all possible haste. You must assist me with wedding plans, and please, dear friend, you will stand up with me, won’t you? It only seems right that you see the thing through.

  Mr Bennet invited me for some shooting yesterday, and I have never seen so many partridges as they have at Longbourn. You must come.

  You must see for yourself — great blind clodpoll that you are — how Jane is more affectionate to me in looks and speech than ever. Now that the above-mentioned couple has vacated the county and we become the sole object of local attention, I must have my second by me.

  As for my future sister, Elizabeth Bennet, come directly and tell her you love her. I observe her appetite improved after receiving your letter. I will not have a dour bridesmaid, so again you must come.

  Lizzy has said to Jane that she cannot believe you or any man could master his pride enough to offer for her a second time. She has not forgiven herself for mistaking your character. She thinks you would be loath to align yourself with her because of the man she must now call brother. By her consideration, the matter has ended as well as it could for Lydia and the Bennet family but as badly as possible for herself.

  In short, I need you, the shooting is excellent, the unfortunate newlyweds are gone, and the favourite of my future Bennet sisters is ready to be courted if you can overcome those objections she believes to be in your mind but I know are not in your heart. Prove to Lizzy that you are the man I know you to be.

  Regards and faithfully,

  Charles

  Yarrow

  “Healing”

  Chapter 13

  Two Visitors to Longbourn

  Saturday, 8 September, 1812

  As the ladies of the Bennet family sat down to breakfast at Longbourn three days after the departure of the Wickhams, they were not aware that Fitzwilliam Darcy had returned to Netherfield the previous evening. Mr Bennet received a letter from Darcy stating he would return to the neighbourhood with the intention of renewing his courtship of Elizabeth. Darcy wrote that he now enjoyed some hope of securing her hand, and he would endeavour to manage the Herculean task in a manner that would not too much damage his reputation as a proud and disagreeable man.

  Thus it was that Mr Bennet joined his family with more than his usual air of self-satisfaction. Mrs Bennet was oblivious, prattling on to Jane about Mr Bingley’s expected arrival for dinner to schedule a date for the wedding and to debate the relative merits of holding the wedding breakfast at Longbourn versus Netherfield if Mrs Hurst could be prevailed upon to act as hostess.

  Elizabeth eyed her father carefully, suspecting something from his occasional sly smiles. It was not her habit to quiz him when he behaved in such a manner. That his furtive looks were aimed at her rather than her mother or sisters gave her pause. Keeping an alert eye upon him throughout the meal, Elizabeth determined that she would speak with him alone in his library when they left the table.

  To that end, Elizabeth followed her father into the hall when a commotion at the front door halted them.

  “I am Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I would like to speak with Miss Elizabeth Bennet if she is not out upon one of her interminable walks in the countryside. Will you take me to her?”

  Lady Catherine swept past Mrs Hill and looked about the entry hall as if she were lost and hoping for direction.

  Mrs Hill curtsied to the grand lady’s back and sputtered, “Yes, ma’am, of course, your ladyship, I shall find her at once.”

  “Is that not Miss Bennet…?” Lady Catherine’s eyes had fallen upon Elizabeth and her father down the hall but then remembered there were an inordinate number of “Miss Bennets” and she had better be specific. “…Miss Elizabeth Bennet, before me?”

  Elizabeth dipped a curtsy as Lady Catherine approached.

  “This, I suppose, is your father?”

  “Yes, ma’am. May I present
my father to you, ma’am, Mr Thomas Bennet? Father, this is Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

  Mr Bennet bowed creditably, and Lady Catherine bestowed a grudging nod. “Mr Bennet, at some other time I would speak with you on the proper upbringing of daughters, as I am given to believe you have not gone about it properly. But today, I have not the time or inclination. I am here to speak with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I saw a prettyish kind of little wilderness to one side of the garden. Miss Bennet, will you condescend to take a turn with me?”

  “Certainly, your ladyship.” Elizabeth skipped quickly to the closet under the stairway to obtain a spencer and bonnet, but Lady Catherine was already at the open front door, and Elizabeth hurried behind.

  Like an ornate ship in full sail, Lady Catherine crossed the broadest sweep of the Longbourn lawn and passed up a short flight of stone steps leading through an arch in the wall into what Mrs Bennet referred to as the hermitage and Mr Bennet called his Arboretum. As soon as they were out of sight of the house, Lady Catherine rounded on Elizabeth.

  “Miss Bennet, I am sure you can be at no loss as to why I have come.”

  “Indeed, madam, I am all amazement. To what does my family owe the honour of your ladyship’s visit?”

  “Certainly you must know, Miss Bennet, what you have done to render me so alarmed. Have you not taken advantage of your slight acquaintance with my niece Georgiana Darcy, which ought not to have been allowed to develop, to put yourself forward as the likeliest candidate to enter into a state of matrimony with my nephew Fitzwilliam Darcy? Have you not been spreading vile rumours of an engagement between yourselves to all of your friends and relations?”

  “Indeed, Lady Catherine, I most certainly have not. It is evidence of how slight our acquaintance is that you have no better expectation of me than to make such an assumption of my motives.”

  “Do not be rude to one who is your superior, Miss Bennet. You do not know the influence I hold with those whom you are trying to coerce into intimacy with your arts and allurements. I am the nearest relation they have. Of course, Georgiana is an innocent and likely to make foolish decisions about where to allow friendly affection to develop, especially when her brother allows a correspondence between you.”