To Love Mr Darcy

by Martine Jane Roberts

  Darcy turned, his eyes searching for what Elizabeth was referring to. Then, when his eyes found it, he drew in a sharp breath. Wickham’s body lay impaled on the house railings. Killed not by the flames, or the two-storey fall, but by the fearsome iron spike that had pierced his heart and now protruded from his chest. A scarlet trickle of blood had escaped from the corner of his mouth and ran up his cheek, to where his unseeing eyes now looked at the star-strewn sky.

  “Good Lord!” Darcy said as he spun Elizabeth around to mask her view. He called out to no-one in particular for some assistance, and a footman ran over with a blanket and covered the body.

  As the horror of the evening's events dawned on her, Elizabeth began to tremble. She had never seen a dead person before.

  She unconsciously accepted Darcy’s comforting actions; her need for reassurance outweighed all thoughts of propriety at this moment.

  Darcy held Elizabeth as tight as he could without causing her damage. He had never been so afraid of losing anyone as he had been tonight. Wickham had found Darcy’s weakness and exploited it mercilessly. As he stood on this cold winter night, comforting the woman he loved, Darcy swore to God he would never leave her side again.

  After some minutes, he said,

  “If you are able to walk, Elizabeth, you must get in the carriage with me,” and he gently steered her along the pavement towards his carriage.

  “Your carriage, sir?” she asked absently, her mind still elsewhere.

  “We cannot stay here tonight, Elizabeth. I will escort you and Georgiana to Lady Matlock’s house. Although it is only a few streets away, modesty dictates you ride in the carriage.”

  In her confused state, Elizabeth mumbled that she dearly loved to walk, but Darcy softly reminded her of her state of undress.

  “You are hardly attired to make even the briefest of journeys, my love.”

  Once Elizabeth was secured in the warmth of the carriage, Darcy quickly sought out his sister and Richard, who would accompany them to his mother’s house. Darcy was the last to climb into the carriage, and as he settled back into his seat, Elizabeth unconsciously placed her head on his shoulder. Darcy smiled and put his arm around her, drawing her nearer. Glancing over to check Georgiana was also comfortable, he was surprised, and a little shocked, to find her too nestled up in Colonel Fitzwilliam arms.

  Chapter Twenty

  Georgiana was remarkably bright the next morning. She felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. For a whole year, she had lived in dread that George Wickham would reveal her foolishness to the world. Finally, that thread had gone. Although now only sixteen, she had matured a great deal since the unfortunate incident at Ramsgate. But with Wickham dead, not only was her secret safe, but also the names and reputations of any other lady he had tried to ruin. Plus, her dear brother would no longer have to suffer the continued embarrassment of Wickham’s lies. At last, they could all move forward with their lives. And soon William would be married to Elizabeth, whom she had come to love dearly. Elizabeth had shown her the most extraordinary kindness during their brief acquaintance. She just knew that Elizabeth and her own dear brother, William, were going to be the happiest of couples.

  Elizabeth felt a little awkward dressed in one of Georgiana’s beautiful gowns instead of one of her own day dresses, but all her clothes had been at Airwhile House and were now most likely ruined. Apparently, Miss Darcy frequently stayed with Lady Matlock when Darcy was out of town. Therefore, it was practical for her to keep a selection of gowns here. Elizabeth had tried to select one of Miss Darcy’s plainer dresses, but in truth, all of Georgiana’s gowns were beautiful and expensive looking.

  Darcy spoke only briefly with his aunt, before returning to Grosvenor Square to assess the damage. Once there, he had also summoned the magistrate to report Wickham’s death. Though Darcy sat on the magistrate’s bench in Derby, he could not rule on a case involving himself.

  Answering the magistrate’s questions had been an unpleasant task, but when Darcy explained the series of events leading up to Wickham’s death, the magistrate was happy to rule it was nothing more than a burglary gone wrong. Pleased to have closed the case in just a few hours, he was then happy to leave the disposal of Wickham’s body to Darcy.

  Even after all the pain, embarrassment, and expense that Wickham had caused Darcy during his lifetime, he could not leave him to be buried in a pauper’s grave, so far from the place he once called home. Instead, Darcy arranged for his body to be returned to Derbyshire, where it would be buried next to his parents.

  Thankfully, the damage to Airwhile House was minimal. Due to Millers routine fire training exercises, the servants had managed to contain the blaze to Georgiana’s suite of rooms and the hallway directly outside.

  It wasn’t until lunchtime that the evacuees met again, and Georgiana was overjoyed that William had returned with such good news about the house. Even learning that all her clothes would have to be either thrown away or donated to the poor, did not dampen her spirits. Instead, she had rejoiced at the prospect of a whole new wardrobe.

  Darcy was surprised to see how well she was taking Wickham’s death. Though he felt obliged to remind her a man had lost his life, and a little decorum should be observed.

  Georgiana linked her arm through Darcy’s and drew him to one side.

  “I know you think my behaviour inappropriate, William, and you are probably right, but do you not see, for the first time in forever we are both free from Wickham’s threats. I cannot help but rejoice. You may be sombre and reverent for both of us,” and she gaily skipped back to the table.

  Darcy could not be cross with her. She was definitely none the worse for her ordeal, quite the opposite in fact. And, having feared for her sanity only one short year ago, it was indeed good to see her spirits so lifted.

  Elizabeth, on the other hand, seemed somewhat subdued. Darcy was surprised that she was taking Wickham’s death so badly. It was true that when Wickham had first arrived in Meryton, Elizabeth displayed a partiality for his company, but Darcy thought it was only a mild infatuation. Could he have been wrong? Was she now pining for a lost love? It pained him to even think such a thing, but he could not deny it. Elizabeth seemed the most affected by the death of George Wickham. If, this was indeed the case, then more importantly, would he ever be able to replace Wickham in her affections?

  Elizabeth realised that George Wickham had committed some unforgivable atrocities, but she could not help but think that Darcy’s father had played a part in his downfall. Though she doubted the life of a cleric would have really suited him; his head was so easily turned by a pretty face. Would old Mr Darcy have raised the boy up so high if he had realised the turmoil it would cause in his own children’s lives? This was something she could never know the answer to, but she did know that Darcy’s actions, under the circumstances, had been above reproach. He was indeed, the best man she had ever known.

  Unlike many of his contemporaries, Darcy preferred to go for a walk after luncheon rather than indulge in an afternoon nap. Knowing that walking was also one of Elizabeth’s favourite pastimes, he approached her and asked if she would like to join him.

  Elizabeth eagerly accepted. So much had happened recently, that it made her realise that every moment spent with a loved one, was precious. In fact, she was hoping she might find the courage to tell Mr Darcy of the change of her affections.

  For a few minutes, they walked along the street in silence, neither knowing how to initiate their intended subjects, until finally, Elizabeth said,

  “It was kind of your aunt to take us in at such short notice, Mr Darcy, especially considering the lateness of the hour.”

  “Yes, but once she knew the particulars, Lady Matlock was happy to do so,” Darcy replied.

  “Is there much damage to the house?” Elizabeth enquired.

  “No, not an excessive amount. It should take no more than a fortnight to make it habitable again.”

  “I will be back at Longbourn
before the work is completed.”

  “Yes,” Darcy said thoughtfully.

  They walked on a little further, both struggling with their thoughts until they came upon a small, stone bench. Instinctively they both sat down and waited for the other to speak.

  Finally, Darcy could stand the tension no more and blurted out,

  “Elizabeth, I must know, is your melancholy mood because you are now deprived of a future with George Wickham?”

  Elizabeth was shocked by his question. Any affection she might have felt for Mr Wickham had evaporated when she discovered his foul misuse of Georgiana. For Mr Darcy to still think she felt some kind of misguided loyalty towards Wickham was unbelievable. Though in truth, Elizabeth had to admit, she had done nothing to dispel his misconception of her relationship with Wickham. She had been silent on too many things.

  Compelled to return his gaze, Elizabeth could see the anguish etched on his face, and her heart went out to him. How little men really understood women.

  “Let me assure you, Mr Darcy, most ardently, that at no time in the past or present, have I ever wished to bond myself to Mr Wickham, quite the opposite.”

  Darcy let her reply wash over him like an embrace. Wickham was not, and never had been, his rival for Elizabeth’s affections. His shoulders visibly slump at her reply.

  Had he truly thought she held Wickham in some regards? Though pleased to have eased his suffering, Elizabeth decided it was time to clear the air regarding Wickham’s accusation against Darcy once and for all. After which, they need never speak of him again.

  “As we are being completely honest with each other, Mr Darcy, I too have a question. Why did you deny Mr Wickham your father's bequest, and not give him the promised living? His life might have turned out very differently had you honoured this request.”

  It was time to make a clean breast of everything. Darcy wanted no secrets between them once they were married.

  “I have no doubt that when Wickham told you his tale of mistreatment at my hands, he sounded very plausible. Unfortunately, my dear girl, he was as much a stranger to the truth as you are to a tavern. Not only did I give him the one thousand pounds promised by my late father, but when he came to me and declared he wanted to practise law instead of being a preacher, I compensated him the full worth of the living.” Darcy rubbed his brow wearily and sighed.

  “I gave him three thousand pounds, Elizabeth, four including the inheritance money. A fortune for a single man to fritter away in just a few years, don’t you agree?”

  Not for the first time, Elizabeth recognised how Wickham had played her for a fool. Apparently, everything he had ever told her about Mr Darcy and his sister was a lie. When she remembered how vehemently she had defended Wickham at Mr Bingley’s ball, she blushed scarlet. Her words must have wounded Darcy deeply, and yet he had never reproached her for it.

  Darcy completely misunderstood Elizabeth’s continued silence. He surmised she was missing her family and longing to go home. After all, her time with him had hardly been pleasurable. First Hurst and Lady Catherine, then Caroline and Wickham. In her eyes, his family must cast a long shadow of disappointment, when compared to her own.

  Another few minutes had passed before either of them spoke, and then it was Darcy who broke the silence.

  “I will arrange for your return to Longbourn first thing tomorrow morning. I expect you would like to spend some time with your family. I have also taken the liberty of writing to Madame Rollini this morning. I have asked her to compile a new wardrobe for you; it’s the least I can do.”

  Elizabeth knew the moment to reveal her altered feelings had passed, but there was still a week before the wedding.

  “Yes,” she murmured. “I would like to see my family, especially Jane.”

  “Yes,” Darcy echoed, “it is as I thought.”

  Solemnly, they made their way back to the house.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Elizabeth’s early return to Longbourn had caused quite a stir. Though only one day before her time, Mrs Bennet immediately jumped to the conclusion that Elizabeth had somehow upset, Mr Darcy. She accused her of forcing him to call off the wedding, which would explain why he had sent her home.

  Mr Bennet and Jane, on the other hand, could not hide their enthusiasm at Elizabeth’s return, for whatever the reason.

  Mary, Lydia and Kitty seemed utterly indifferent about their sister’s arrival, early or not.

  Once all the welcomes and reassurances that the wedding was still going ahead were complete, Jane and Elizabeth managed to escape upstairs.

  Jane immediately bombarded Elizabeth with a multitude of questions, starting with,

  “Have you heard? Mr Wickham is dead, a duel they say. Aunt Philips heard it from Lady Lucas, who heard it from Sir William, who read about it in the papers. Is it true, Lizzy?”

  It never ceased to surprise Elizabeth at how quickly gossip could be spread or, in this case, like a game of Chinese Whispers, how the truth could be grossly distorted. However, as Mr Darcy had not given her permission to reveal his sister’s involvement with Mr Wickham, she could only tell Jane the edited version of events.

  “That is not quite what happened, Jane, although it is a far kinder version of the facts than the truth,” Elizabeth said. “It appears that Mr Wickham deserted his regiment and then fell on hard times. In desperation, he sought to fill his pockets at the expense of Mr Darcy and broke into his townhouse. Not being a thief by profession, he was soon detected by one of the servants, and they raised the alarm. Unfortunately, as he tried to flee capture a lamp was knocked over. Mr Wickham found himself trapped by the flames. He tried to climb out of a window, but it was two floors up. I’m told he died instantly.”

  Jane gasped when she heard how Mr Wickham had met his end and seemed genuinely upset.

  Elizabeth did not want to dwell on such things. It brought the gruesome image of the impaled body of Mr Wickham flooding back. Therefore, to entertain both Jane and herself, Elizabeth recalled the tales told her by Madame Rollini.

  When Elizabeth joined the family for breakfast the next morning, it was as if she had never been away. Mr Bennet had finished his breakfast and was now hiding behind his paper in the hope to avoid conversation with his wife. Too long he had had to listen to the virtues of this colour silk and that style lace. While Mrs Bennet chatted endlessly about weddings and the extra work it had placed on her shoulders.

  Mary, Kitty and Lydia were talking about nothing in particular, while Jane just wanted breakfast to be over, so she could go and write to Mr Bingley, who had remained in London.

  The signal that breakfast was over was when Mr Bennet disappeared from the table to speak to Mr Hill about estate business.

  Elizabeth felt a wave of mixed emotions wash over her as she watched her family like an observer. She missed the hustle and bustle of Longbourn, but at the same time, she missed the quiet and refined atmosphere of Airwhile House.

  Deciding she needed some fresh air to clear her mind, Elizabeth selected a book from her father’s study and then made her way to the wilderness garden.

  She sat on the stone bench at the end of the garden, rested her head back and closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the clean country air. The wilderness garden, as this area of the Longbourn estate, was often referred to, was Elizabeth’s favourite place. She came here often to enjoy some peace and quiet, away from her family, who rarely ventured this far from the house. They preferred the well-tended areas of the garden instead. But this small enclosure was mostly left untended, once the autumn leaves had begun to fall.

  Elizabeth watched as a male robin and red squirrel foraged under the carpet of red and golden leaves, as they competed for the tastiest berries and fallen hazelnuts. It was good to be out of the city and back in the country. The pace of life was slower, and everyone was happy to pass the time of day with you.

  Some minutes passed before Elizabeth opened her book and began to read. She soon realised
that she had read and re-read the same line again and again. Frustrated at her own lack of concentration, she shut the book and placed it on the bench beside her. A certain gentleman seemed to be invading her thought with alarming regularity. Recalling his image, she wondered that she had ever thought so ill of him? He really was everything she desired in a husband. Handsome, amenable, witty, thoughtful, reliable…, the list of his qualities was endless. Even now, though he was miles away, her heart ached for his company.

  “May I join you?”

  “Mr Darcy!” Elizabeth exclaimed, blushing furiously to find the object of her affections standing close to her side.

  Darcy picked up Elizabeth’s discarded book and sat beside her.

  He had intended to wait until the day before their wedding to return to Hertfordshire, giving Elizabeth ample time to recover from her ordeal. However, Georgiana and Richard had begun to display their feelings for each other openly, which only emphasised how much he missed Elizabeth. Oh, there were a dozen reasons he could have used for keeping him in the city. The repairs to the house, to question Richard about his intentions towards Georgiana, or to arrange Wickham’s repatriation to Pemberley. But the truth was, he was miserable without Elizabeth. This past fortnight together had only seen his love and admiration for Elizabeth deepen. He no longer wanted to deny the true extent of his feelings for her; he wanted to celebrate them.

  They would be married, as planned, in just a few days, but Elizabeth had yet to reveal the degree of her regard for him. To this day, she had never actually spoken any words of affection to him. Which left him with one question. Did, or would, Elizabeth, ever return his love?

  Elizabeth hoped the pounding in her chest was not visible as her heart raced at the unexpected arrival of Mr Darcy. If she needed confirmation of her new-found regard for him, this physical exhibition must surely be it.

  “Mr Darcy…”

  “Elizabeth…”