by A V Knight
“That it ought not to be attempted. Mr. Darcy has not authorized me to make his communication public. On the contrary, every particular relative to his sister was meant to be kept as much as possible to myself.”
“More relevant,” Charlotte pointed out, “who will believe you? We have all done a charming job in convincing ourselves that Mr. Darcy is the worst sort of snob that even if every resident of Meryton were all to read the letter themselves I imagine that no small part of them would believe he was lying to preserve his sister’s dignity after she failed to secure Mr. Wickham.”
“I agree that it would be the death of half the good people in Meryton to attempt to place Mr. Darcy in an amiable light. I am not equal to it. Wickham will soon be gone and therefore it will not signify to anyone here what he really is. Some time hence it will be all found out, and then we may laugh at their stupidity in not knowing it before. At present, I will say nothing about it.”
“You are quite right. To have his errors made public might ruin him forever. He is now, perhaps, sorry for what he has done, and anxious to re-establish a character. We must not make him desperate.”
“I care not what he might be attempting to change. His conduct in speaking so poorly and publicly of Mr. Darcy is enough to convince me that he has no intention to be anything other than what he is. You can hold to your hope that he will reform, Jane, while, like Lizzy. I hope that soon enough his bad deeds will catch up to him and he will ruin himself. Despite being certain that the story will be rejected in its entirety, I will not hesitate to do my best to tell my sisters and other young ladies that he is not a gentleman of good character.”
“We cannot tell anyone what Mr. Darcy shared with me.” Elizabeth objected.
“And I don’t intend to. Georgiana Darcy certainly doesn’t deserve to be more punished for a youthful indiscretion than I am certain she has already done to herself. But I can at least share among the young ladies some vagaries that I heard him ill spoken of in Kent. Those who are determined not to listen will not hear me, but those with sense might at least stop and think before letting themselves be swept away. And to you Lizzy, it seems to be a rather bold claim that you might laugh at their stupidity for not knowing better of him when it was not until Mr. Darcy placed that letter in your hand that you had any idea Mr. Wickham was anything other than, as I believe you described him to me, the most charming man of your acquaintance.”
Charlotte walked away from the Bennet sisters before she could say anything else that might damage the relationship that she had worked so hard to preserve these last months. Since a bit of privacy was all Charlotte needed to move past her anger and speak to Elizabeth with the respect she deserved, of course, Elizabeth followed her.
Elizabeth caught Charlotte by the wrist and began speaking without waiting for Charlotte to turn and face her. “I would not have you angry with me, Charlotte, not over this. I will confess to you that I was unjust in my treatment of Mr. Darcy. I am aware enough to admit that. But I cannot repent of my refusal or feel the slightest inclination to ever see him again and you shall not be upset with me for it.”
Charlotte turned back to her with a sigh. “It is not that you rejected him, Lizzy, though I do think it was foolish and short-sighted of you.” In truth, Charlotte could not put into words why Elizabeth’s persisting good humor angered her so.
Elizabeth cast a look around to be certain they were alone, but still pulled Charlotte off the path and among the trees before she spoke. “You must know there was more to Mr. Darcy’s letter than matters of Mr. Wickham.”
“If you did not tell the man that you were rejecting in part for doubting Jane’s affections, I would be stunned.”
Lizzy sighed in relief. “I knew you would be able to guess it. But that half of Mr. Darcy’s letter I dare not disclose to Jane, for with it comes how highly she was valued by Mr. Bingley. Already you see she is unhappy.” Charlotte nodded. Jane had a steady temperament and attentive friends and family to see her through her heartbreak, but in moments of quiet Charlotte could see the melancholy of lost love come upon her.
“Oh Charlotte, I was furious with Mr. Darcy upon first reading the letter. You would have been too if anyone had claimed such objections to your family as Mr. Darcy did with mine. Beyond that, I considered his belief in Jane’s insensibility to be false. He expressed no regret for what he had done, and his style was not penitent, but haughty. It was all pride and insolence that I could not forgive him for.
“But time would not let me cling to my anger. Mr. Darcy declared himself to be totally unsuspicious of Jane’s attachment, and I could not help remembering what your opinion had always been. Your opinion that I always hold in such high regard, even when I consider your own decisions to be the height of foolishness. I could not deny the justice of his description of Jane. You know Jane as well as I do and argued that Jane’s feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her air and manner not often united with great sensibility.
“Though I understand how he might have been misled, I still disagree with his interference in their romance. No matter how it might have looked to Mr. Darcy, Jane did love Mr. Bingley. If he had put aside his pride and watched for a few more weeks perhaps they would be happily married now instead of heartbroken in two different places. He was wrong, and his pride ruined the happiness of my most beloved sister. I cannot forgive him that. I know you consider my refusal foolish, but he hurt Jane and he felt no apology for it. I could not make my life with such a man. I could not, Charlotte, not for all the money in the world.”
Charlotte dragged Elizabeth into a hug, holding her close as she continued to mutter that she would not have him.
“Elizabeth, forgive me, but I would know what else happened. This cannot simply be about Mr. Darcy. You would not be like this if it was only a matter of rejecting another man that you disliked.” Elizabeth pulled back and said nothing. This would be worse than any foolishness she could accuse Lizzy of, but Charlotte could not stop herself. “Lizzy, did you perhaps… not dislike Mr. Darcy as much as you originally supposed?’
“No! No, it is not that at all!”
“Then Lizzy, what is it? If you do not regret having to tell him no, then what is it that has you striving so hard to justify your decision to reject him?”
“Mr. Wickham,” she sighed.
It was not at all possible that despite everything Elizabeth could still regret the loss of Mr. Wickham’s attentions, so Charlotte did not do her the disservice of asking Elizabeth if she meant what her sighs sounded like. Instead, she took Elizabeth by the hand and pulled her down to sit beneath a tree, settled in for as long as the conversation took.
“When I first read Mr. Darcy’s accusations of Mr. Wickham, I knew them to be impossible, the grossest of falsehoods. But then I read and re-read them with the closest attention to the particulars immediately following Wickham’s resigning all pretensions to the living, of his receiving in lieu so considerable a sum as three thousand pounds, and I was forced to hesitate. I attempted to weigh every circumstance with impartiality, but I had little success. Of course, each man would speak on his own behalf, but every line proved more clearly that Mr. Darcy was blameless throughout the whole.
“I had to confess to myself that of Mr. Wickham’s former way of life nothing had been known in Hertfordshire but what he told himself. As to his real character, had information been in my power, I had never felt a wish of inquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner had established him at once in the possession of every virtue. I wasted a considerable portion of that morning trying to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of integrity or benevolence that might rescue him from the attacks of Mr. Darcy, but no such thought befriended me. Even now I can see him instantly before me, in every charm of air and address, but I can remember no more substantial good than the general approbation of the neighborhood and the regard that his social powers had gained him. I had to admit to
myself that I had never viewed Mr. Wickham with anything resembling impartiality. I had taken his charm and his pleasing smiles as evidence of goodness and never once stopped to ask myself anything about his traits beyond the turn of his face.
“Things only grew worse for me as I thought on his designs for Miss Darcy, about which I had received some confirmation in a conversation I had had with Colonel Fitzwilliam only the morning before. For the truth of every particular Mr. Darcy referred me to Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, whose character I had then and have now no reason to question. I almost resolved on applying to him, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of the application. I had the conviction that Mr. Darcy would never have hazarded such a proposal if he had not been well assured of his cousin’s corroboration.
“It was as though a veil was lifted from over my eyes and I perfectly remembered everything that had passed in conversation between Wickham and myself in our first evening at Mr. Phillips’. Many of his expressions were still fresh in my memory because so charming had been the turn of his countenance. What had once been fond remembrances of him were now contaminated. I was struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and I still wonder at how it escaped me before. It was indelicate of him to put himself forward as he had done, and there was such inconsistency of his professions with his conduct. He boasted of having no fear of seeing Mr. Darcy, yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball the very next week and I thought nothing of it. And it is only now I see that until the Netherfield family had quitted the country he told his story to no one but me, but after their removal it was everywhere discussed. I noticed his timing before, but I confess that it was a point of pride for me, that out of all the neighborhood who he might have confided in, I was the one he trusted with the truth. But now I can recognize that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy’s character, though he had assured me that respect for the father would always prevent his exposing the son.
“How differently does everything now appear in which he was concerned! His attentions to Miss King are now the consequence of views solely and hatefully mercenary. The mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer the moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything. His behavior to myself could now have had no tolerable motive. He had either been deceived with regard to my fortune or had been gratifying his vanity by encouraging the preference that I know I had most incautiously shown.
“I can admit that although proud and repulsive as were Mr. Darcy’s manners, I have never, in the whole course of our acquaintance, seen anything that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust, anything that spoke of irreligious or immoral habits. Among his own connections he is esteemed and valued, for Mr. Bingley is too amiable a man to be friends with someone capable of the wrongs he had been accused of. Even Wickham had allowed him merit as a brother, and I have often heard Mr. Darcy speak so affectionately of his sister as to prove him capable of some amiable feeling. And Colonel Fitzwilliam is so good and rational a man that even if all the rest of them were deceived in Mr. Darcy’s character, he could not be.
“It is not a matter of regretting either Darcy or Wickham, Charlotte. Instead, I am ashamed of myself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham can I think without feeling I have been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd. How despicably I have acted!” she cried. “I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! Who have often disdained the generous candor of my sister and gratified my vanity in useless or blamable mistrust! How humiliating is this discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind! But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Pleased with the preference of one and offended by the neglect of the other, I have courted prepossession and ignorance from the very beginning of our acquaintance. I have driven reason away, where either was concerned. Until that moment I never knew myself, and I confess, it is a picture I find miserable and disappointing.”
“And so you tease, as though everything is as it was.”
“I like to think that perhaps I have learned from my mistake and would not ridicule our neighbors for having precisely the same opinions about Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy that I had, though they could not have made any greater fools of themselves then I did. But it is far easier to go on as though nothing about me has changed, as though I don’t feel ashamed for my failures in judgment, as though I know myself as well as I thought I did before. What else am I to do, Charlotte? I was foolish, yes, but so was everyone else.”
“Which I imagine just makes things worse for you since we both consider ourselves so clever.”
“You are referring to Mr. Collins?”
“At least you were outsmarted by a man who seems to make such things his bread and butter. I have been strung along by an idiot.”
“He still might propose. And he is the fool if he does not.”
“No greater fool then he is any other day of his existence. But we weren’t discussing Mr. Collins, we were discussing Wickham.”
“I rather think we were more discussing my pride than anything else.”
“You are right though, there’s nothing to do but be better. I cannot imagine that Mr. Darcy would accept a letter of apology on the subject.”
Elizabeth laughed at the thought. “Say to him: I’m sorry I thought you were so terrible, but even knowing the truth I still don’t want a thing to do with you?”
“Something along those lines, yes.” Both ladies dissolved into giggles at the affront on Mr. Darcy’s face if Elizabeth were to attempt it.
“I know why you’ve kept any of his beliefs about Jane away from her, but you could discuss this part of things with her.”
“She would only tell me that we all were deceived in Mr. Wickham and I ought not punish myself for a mistake that the whole of Meryton made.”
“Which is true.”
“But is no comfort to me, and you are one of the few people who understands why.”
“We fancy ourselves so clever, do we not? And now both of us have been taken in by two entirely different sorts of men.”
“If I had a bit of your practicality and you had a bit of my romance we would have spared ourselves the humiliation.”
Charlotte tilted back her head and stared up at the blue sky still shining through the leaves and thought for a long moment about Elizabeth’s words. She was not wrong. They were both of them so clever that they considered themselves a cut above the average. Yet, they had fallen into the same traps as every other young lady: swept up by false faces and false promises of otherwise respectable young men. Charlotte did not regret hoping for Mr. Collins, and she did not regret that all her affection for Colonel Fitzwilliam could never be returned. But as Lizzy said, they would become regret if she did not take heed. “Perhaps, my dear Lizzy, that is something we still can learn.”
Lizzy dropped her head to Charlotte’s shoulder and closed her eyes. “At least we’ll be together to do it.” Charlotte joined her, and together they sat and felt the sunshine on their faces.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The two weeks following their return home were a deluge of dinner invitations. With the regiment soon moving on everyone was anxious to spend time with their favorite officers. Their departure was a great disappointment to all the ladies of Meryton, even Maria and Henrietta whose acquaintance with the officers had only been perfunctory at best.
Though Charlotte did not consider these ideal circumstances, she still made sure that every offer of dinner she and her parents received came also with one for Maria and Henrietta. While her sisters were not officially ‘out’ in society, they had often been invited along to smaller family parties thrown by their neighbors, usually when the hosts themselves had daughters. However, Charlotte decided it was time that her sisters be availed of all the opportunities that ought to come to girls their age. There was no longer any point to their waiting.
Despite Lydia and Kitty taking special pleasure in telling Maria and Henrietta exa
ggerated details about all the balls and parties they attended, Charlotte’s sisters had never complained. They kept their peace on the subject out of love for their elder sister, though Charlotte could imagine that in their hearts they considered the wait rather torturous. Objectively, they had not had to wait all that long for their chance, but with Bennet girls out far younger than Charlotte or anyone with sense considered appropriate, it felt so. But comparison is the thief of joy in all instances, especially in regards to husbands.
Charlotte understood that for all her parents were acting with caution to keep their daughters safe until they had the sense not to throw themselves about in society in pursuit of whatever speck of attention they might find, in this they were rather more concerned with protecting Charlotte. They were not worried about protecting her reputation from having younger sisters married before she was, but protecting Charlotte from herself. Her parents were under the impression that Charlotte’s heart would break if her much younger sisters were made wives first.
Charlotte did not think things would be quite so dramatic. Her love for her sisters was enough that she wouldn’t wish them a moment of pain merely because of her own circumstances. Undoubtedly it would hurt to see them wed, but she wouldn’t make her hurt a family affair. Charlotte rather thought she had enough practice at convincing anyone who wasn’t Lizzy that there wasn’t an ache behind her ribs every time she saw a happy couple, even if that couple involved sisters a full decade younger than she.
So while her sisters were still not officially out in society—a step that her father would claim required their presentation at St. James’—the mothers of Meryton accepted that they were out enough for invitations and a sudden influx of sons to begin paying them attention. In the immediate aftermath of the change Charlotte got more than her fair share of sad looks from people disappointed on her behalf at this proof she had given up. They then turned around and gossiped about how they always knew Charlotte would die an old maid and they were stunned it had taken her so long to accept. Charlotte was quick to imply that the change had not a thing to do with her and everything to do with her sisters’ ages. If they pressed, Charlotte called it sisterly affection and left it at that.
