I Met Mr Darcy Via Luton

by Fredrica Edward

  "What a rat!" she spat.

  Denny looked at his highly polished boots. "I fear he is not quite the thing, Miss Lydia."

  He would have liked to say more: he had never approved of the horrid things Wickham had said about Miss Lydia that had made his ears burn. He wished now he had told Wickham to shut his filthy mouth. Miss Lydia was very beautiful, and spirited too. Just the wife a soldier could take on a campaign.

  "He also owes the other officers quite a bit in vowels and notes of hand," he offered instead.

  "And," said Sanderson, who had finally found his voice, "he sleeps buff!" As if this was the crowning iniquity.

  Kitty blushed. Lydia guffawed.

  A week later, when Wickham returned from London, Lydia had planned her revenge.

  Kitty and Lydia had invited themselves to a sleepover at the Lucases'.

  They spent the first half of the evening in their nightgowns, telling ghost stories in Mariah's room by the light of a single candle.

  Then, pulling on their day gowns, Lydia produced a large pickling jar from her carpetbag and wrapped it in a shawl. After stuffing their carpetbags and various other objects under the blankets of their beds as a decoy, Kitty and Lydia crept downstairs, whereupon Mariah let them out the back door.

  When they arrived at Mrs Long's, Denny answered the back door to their secret knock.

  "Has he come in yet?" whispered Lydia.

  "No, he always arrives back just before curfew," replied Denny.

  They tiptoed upstairs, where Lydia produced the jar from under her shawl.

  "What the hell is that?" said Denny, paling; then clapped his hand over his mouth.

  Lydia seemed unperturbed by his bad language. "It's a Kleppian snake–Mr Jones told me. It's only a baby one. Mr Jones has its mother pickled in a jar. She was much bigger."

  "Are they poisonous?" quaked Denny.

  "No, but don't tell him that."

  Lydia sat down at the secretaire in the hall which the officers used for their correspondence and quickly penned a note. She frowned as she reread it. It was a little too intellectual, like something Lizzy would write. Lydia then added a postscript that she believed captured her own feelings a little better, giggling with girlish mirth as she sealed the folded sheet.

  "Now open the door, so I can put it in," she instructed Denny.

  After Lydia had arranged Wickham's bed, she suggested they all await developments next door in the officers' parlour.

  "Hold on," said Denny, warming to the farce. "I want to stay here, so I can see the look on his face.

  "Me too," added Sanderson bravely.

  The ladies retired to the officers' parlour, which was shrouded in darkness, to seat themselves next to the adjoining wall to listen.

  Taking his jacket off quickly, Denny jumped between the covers of his bed, still wearing his breeches. Grabbing the book he'd left on the nightstand, he buried his nose in it.

  Sanderson followed suit, but hard-pressed for reading material, he took the volume of poetry from Wickham's nightstand. He had never seen Wickham read it anyway. Like everything else about the man, it was all for show.

  Soon after, they heard Wickham's fleet feet on the stairs. He entered the room and started stripping down to his birthday suit. Having achieved this state, he flexed his muscles a little for the benefit of the adoring youths in the room, threw back the covers, and with an athletic skip, launched himself into the middle of the bed. He only just glimpsed movement beneath him in his peripheral vision before Denny blew out his candle, and Sanderson quickly followed suit.

  Then came a girlie scream, a commotion, an agonised yelp, and Wickham's cry: "Light the candle! Light the candle! Something has bit me!"

  Denny hastened to obey, stifling his smirk as he did so.

  Wickham had jumped from the bed and was staring at the disturbed covers.

  "Perhaps it was a mouse?" offered Denny, rising to stand on his mattress. "You haven't been eating in bed again have you?"

  Wickham approached the sheets and flicked them back cautiously, revealing the snake. Another soprano shriek issued from his lips.

  Next door, Kitty and Lydia stifled their laughter and drummed their heels on the floor. The noise distracted Wickham, who scowled at the intervening wall.

  "What is going on here?" he demanded.

  It was at this point that he discovered the note that had fluttered to the floor when he had disturbed the sheets. Keeping one eye on the snake, he bent to pick it up.

  Dear Wickie,

  Hope you liked my little surprise. It was my pleasure to introduce two fellow creatures, both in nature and form.

  LB

  P.S. Hope my snake bit yours.

  Chapter 32: The Lakes tour

  As Lydia had sworn Denny and Sanderson to secrecy, the tale of Wickham's humiliation never reached Longbourn before the militia's departure, though it became legend once they were encamped in Brighton with the other regiments. The story spread of a jilted country miss who had introduced a serpent into the bed of the cad who had dallied with her. Wickham often found himself being laughed at behind his back; or worse, a subtle hissing noise accompanied his progress through the officers' mess. He eventually transferred to a regiment bound for New South Wales to escape the general hilarity.

  While Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham's departure from Hertfordshire, she found little other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. The parties attended by the sisters were less varied than before, and at home, Elizabeth had to deal with an unhappy mother and four less than chirpy sisters, although this was the status quo for Mary. On the bright side, Lydia seemed strangely reconciled to their father's determination that she would not go to Brighton, regardless of any invitation from Mrs Forster.

  Before she had departed from London, Lizzy had the unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt in a tour of pleasure, which they proposed taking in the summer. Mr Bennet had not been pleased when she relayed this information: he had been forced to do the estate's ledgers during her absence in Kent; and he joked about refusing his permission for another jaunt. Thus, in preparation for her summer tour, she decided to teach Mary to do this work. This had the happy side-effect of reducing Mary's proselytising, for she had less time to dwell on Fordyce's sermons.

  Jane made a determined effort to distract herself from thoughts of Mr Bingley by employing the stillroom to make toilette waters. She successfully distilled lavender and rose; and had applied to Aunt Gardiner for recipes of more complex combinations, which her aunt dutifully copied from originals in the reading rooms of the British Museum.

  Kitty also became interested in the stillroom with the principal aim of brewing ginger beer. Mr Bennet was not happy about this project, demanding all the product be stored in an outbuilding as he did not want the serenity of his library disturbed by the sounds of any exploding bottles.

  For her part, Lizzy tried to prepare enough of Mr Jones' most common prescriptions to tide him over 'til she could return.

  Lizzy's tour to the Lakes was now the object of her happiest thoughts; it was her best consolation for all the uncomfortable hours, which the discontentedness of her mother made inevitable. Could she have included Jane in the scheme, every part of it would have been perfect; but Jane had volunteered to look after the Gardiner children during the tour as a thank you for her long stay after Christmas.

  The time fixed for the beginning of their northern tour was now fast approaching, and a fortnight only was wanting of it when a letter arrived from Mrs Gardiner, which at once delayed its commencement and curtailed its extent. Mr Gardiner would be prevented by business from setting out 'til a fortnight later in July, and must be in London again within a month. As that left too short a period for them to go so far and see so much as they had proposed, or at least to see it with the leisure and comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give up the Lakes and substitute a more contracted tour. According to the present plan, they were to go
no farther northwards than Derbyshire. In that county there was enough to be seen to occupy the chief of their three weeks, and to Mrs Gardiner, it had a peculiarly strong attraction. The town where she had formerly passed some years of her life, and where they were now to spend a few days, was probably as great an object of her curiosity as all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth, Dovedale, or the Peak.

  Her aunt knew Elizabeth had set her heart on seeing the Lakes and as a concession to Elizabeth's inevitable disappointment, she suggested Jane might accompany them after all if the younger sisters were willing to take on the duties of child-minding. This Lydia and Kitty happily agreed to do.

  The mention of Derbyshire brought many disquieting thoughts crowding into Lizzy's mind. It was impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its owner.

  "But surely," said she, "I may enter his county with impunity and rob it of a few petrified spars without his perceiving me."

  During his long rustication in Derbyshire, Mr Darcy had plenty of time to rue his actions at Hunsford. Blinded by lust, he had thought of nothing beyond getting Elizabeth into his bed. Well, he had thought of taking her to the theatre and then to his bed, or to the opera and then to bed, or for a ride in his carriage and then dallying with her in that, just for variation.

  But his retreat to his childhood home had illustrated the error of his thinking. It occurred to him that there was much more to his attraction to Miss Elizabeth than his overwhelming desire to tryst with her. He now began to comprehend that she was exactly the woman who, in disposition and talents, would most suit him. Her understanding and temper, though unlike his own, would have answered all his wishes. It was a union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved; and from his better education, she might slake her thirst for knowledge.

  This awareness of her fitness was borne to him every day as he went about his business. When he threw his dog a stick, he imagined she would be there gently ribbing him when Argos brought back a rabbit instead. When he saw the chessboard laid out in the library, he replayed their game at Netherfield, during which he said many witty things before letting her win. When he sat down to read, he imagined her sitting companionably beside him as she had done at Netherfield, though she always read a book of poetry, not one on bloodletting. When his sister sang off key in Italian, he imagined it was Miss Elizabeth's sweet voice instead. Usually she swanned about the halls of Pemberley in a crimson ball-gown, but sometimes he encountered her in other things, mostly frilly négligées. Oh, well, he couldn't have clean thoughts all the time.

  Aside from these congenial vignettes of cohabitation, he worried a little about her ubiquitous presence. Especially when he caught himself saying something out loud to her; or worse, Georgiana did.

  But the great tragedy was that he could see no way across the chasm he'd created between them: the insult was too great. If he ever met her again, he was not sure he would even be able to meet her eye.

  At length, Mr and Mrs Gardiner, with their four children, two girls of six and eight years old, and two younger boys, arrived at Longbourn.

  The Gardiners stayed only one night in Hertfordshire and set off the next morning with Elizabeth and Jane in pursuit of novelty and amusement.

  It is not the object of this work to give a description of Derbyshire nor of any of the remarkable places through which their route lay; Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth, Birmingham, etc. are sufficiently known. A small part of Derbyshire is all the present concern. To the little town of Lambton, the scene of Mrs Gardiner's former residence, and where she had lately learned some acquaintance still remained, they bent their steps after having seen all the principal wonders of the country; and within five miles of Lambton, Elizabeth found from her aunt that Pemberley was situated. It was not in their direct road, nor more than a mile or two out of it. In talking over their route the evening before, Mrs Gardiner expressed an inclination to see the place again. Mr Gardiner and Jane declared their willingness, and Elizabeth was applied to for her approbation.

  "My love, should not you like to see a place of which you have heard so much?" said her aunt; "a place, too, with which so many of your acquaintances are connected."

  Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at Pemberley and was obliged to express a disinclination for seeing it. She must own that she was tired of seeing great houses; after going over so many, she really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains.

  Mrs Gardiner tried to coax her to acquiesce. "If it were merely a fine house, richly furnished," said she, "I should not care about it myself; but the grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the country."

  Elizabeth said no more–but her mind was in turmoil. The possibility of meeting Mr Darcy while viewing the place instantly occurred. It would be dreadful! She blushed at the very idea and thought it would be better to speak openly to her aunt than to run such a risk. But against this there were objections; and she finally resolved that it would be the last resource, if her private inquiries on the absence of the family were unfavourably answered.

  Accordingly, when she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid 'whether Pemberley was not a very fine place?', 'what was the name of its proprietor?' and, with no little alarm, 'whether the family were down for the summer?' She could not have applied to a more informed source. The girl's sister worked as a maid at Pemberley. The family was temporarily away: Mr Darcy had gone to Yorkshire to finalise the sale of a property, and his sister to visit her aunt at Matlock.

  Her alarms now being removed, Elizabeth was at leisure to feel a great deal of curiosity to see the house herself; and when the subject was revived the next morning, and she was again applied to, she could readily answer, and with a proper air of indifference, that she had not really any dislike to the scheme. To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.

  Chapter 33: Pemberley

  Darcy's trip to Yorkshire, which he had expected to take a fortnight, had been concluded more speedily than he had envisaged. Colonel Brandon had been all acquiescence, and in the end there had been no need to parcel off the land surrounding the cottage: the Colonel was happy for Ruth and her 'aunt' to continue living there for a peppercorn rent, as he knew few people in the vicinity and was delighted to have the company of two genteel ladies at dinner occasionally.

  Thus Darcy sent word to Georgiana at Matlock of his imminent return to Pemberley.

  He then detoured to Scarborough to visit Bingley, who had repaired there to investigate a business proposition. Specifically, his father's old business partner, who had bought him out years ago, was retiring. Not having a son of his own, he wished to take Bingley Junior back into partnership to secure the fortunes of his unmarried daughters. Of course, Caroline was aghast at the prospect of her brother re-entering the world of trade, but ironically she had largely engineered the situation herself: had Charles been happily settled with Jane Bennet, he probably would have acquiesced to his sister's demands; but he was unhappy and antsy and determined to be hen-pecked no longer.

  Bingley had almost concluded his business in Scarborough and was waiting only for the contract to be signed. Darcy had originally hoped his friend might accompany him back to Derbyshire, but given the uncertainty of the timing, it seemed prudent for them to travel separately. Thus Bingley agreed to repair to Pemberley for a short while on his way back to London, from whence he intended to effect his permanent removal to Yorkshire. Caroline would stay in London with the Hursts.

  The ride back to Pemberley was hot and dusty. Taking a shortcut cross-country, Darcy determined to stop at the swimming hole that he and Richard had frequented as youths. Arriving at this spot, he left his horse to graze and drink. Then shucking off his clothes, he walked naked along the pontoon and dove in. After the long hot ride, it was heavenly.

  Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of Pemberley Woods w
ith some perturbation. When at length they turned in at the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter.

  The park was very large and contained great variety of ground. They entered it in one of its lowest points and drove for some time through a beautiful wood, stretching over a wide extent.

  Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road, with some abruptness, wound. It was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills. In front, a large stream swelled into a lake, though whether this was natural or contrived, it was difficult to tell. Its banks were neither formal nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth had never seen a place for which nature had done more or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste.

  The Gardiners and Jane were warm in their admiration, but Elizabeth could only think that she suddenly understood the basis for Mr Darcy's arrogance. It was all so grand! She felt she had stumbled across some magical land where he ruled as a petty princeling!

  They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; and, while examining the nearer aspect of the house, all her apprehension of meeting its owner returned. She dreaded lest the chambermaid had been mistaken. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the hall where they waited for the housekeeper.

  A respectable-looking elderly woman arrived, much less fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her, and introduced herself as Mrs Reynolds, a name Elizabeth instantly recognised from her conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam.