Elizabeth and Darcy- Ardently Yours

by Evangeline Wright

  Elizabeth and her aunt stood in the doorway for some time, watching the jeweler’s shop closely. At length, the couple emerged. Wickham pocketed a small box, and Miss Darcy looked up at him with glowing adoration. Her gaze was so trusting, Elizabeth could not believe her to be a willing party to this scoundrel’s vengeful schemes. She had hoped, for Mr. Darcy’s sake, that his sister truly believed Gretna Green was their intended destination when she left Netherfield. Miss Darcy’s countenance did not appear to be that of a girl wittingly entering a sordid tryst, Elizabeth now noted with relief. Rather, her gaze displayed only guileless reverence for her companion. Miss Darcy might be imprudent and impulsive, but thus far she appeared to remain innocent.

  Wickham and Miss Darcy proceeded slowly down the street, and Elizabeth and her aunt followed at a discreet distance. The couple paused to admire a confectioner’s display, then spent a short time inside an establishment where elaborate fans were for sale. They had just entered a linen draper’s when a hired coach came to an abrupt halt alongside Elizabeth and Aunt Gardiner. There were three men in the carriage, but only one stepped down.

  “Oh, Uncle Gardiner!” Elizabeth embraced him warmly. “The men with you. Are they…?”

  “Yes, yes, Elizabeth. All is as you suggested. The stage is set, and we lack only our villain.” He spoke seriously enough, but Elizabeth thought she detected a twinkle of amusement in his eye. Even in town, he would persist in being an angler. Elizabeth knew no one who took such great satisfaction from reeling in a catch.

  “They are just there, in the draper’s.” She indicated the establishment.

  “Shall we, then?” Uncle Gardiner offered one arm to his wife and the other to his niece. Elizabeth took a deep breath as they entered the shop.

  And what a shop it was! Elizabeth felt she had entered an Aladdin’s den of feathers and furs, silks and lace. Great bolts of cloth in every imaginable color and pattern were stocked to the rafters high overhead. The establishment seemed to continue back into infinity, partitioned into room after room of pattern books and perfumes and elegant accoutrements. They passed cases of fans carved from horn and ivory, their gilt edges sparkling seductively, then a veritable rainbow of parasols, and finally found Miss Darcy and Mr. Wickham examining an arrangement of beautiful lace gloves.

  “Why, Miss Darcy! I had no idea you were returning to town before the wedding.” Elizabeth hoped her light tone and forced smile gave the appearance of nonchalance. Her heart pounded in her chest and her stomach roiled with anxiety, but she managed a reasonably graceful curtsy considering the circumstances. “And Mr. Wickham—what a great surprise to encounter you here! I should have thought you would be halfway to Brighton by now.”

  If Elizabeth was struggling to maintain her composure, Miss Darcy was waging a similar battle, with considerably less success. She blushed deeply and looked to Mr. Wickham with beseeching alarm. Wickham was, as ever, unruffled. He bowed deeply.

  “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, what a pleasure.” He took her hand and pressed it to his lips before Elizabeth could conceive of any politic method of deterring this most unwelcome liberty. At least she was wearing gloves.

  “Miss Darcy and I are enjoying an afternoon of shopping,” he offered effortlessly. “I have business here in London, so I requested leave from Colonel Forster to rejoin the regiment in some days’ time in Brighton. Miss Darcy here was in desperate need of gloves for Mr. Bingley’s wedding, and so it was my great pleasure to escort her to town. As an old family friend, of course.”

  “Of course.” Elizabeth avoided meeting his gaze, certain that her contempt for this rogue would be obvious should she dare. “We are on a similar errand, making last-minute purchases for the wedding. Does your brother accompany you to town, Miss Darcy?”

  The young lady paled. “My brother?”

  Wickham interjected smoothly, “A gentleman of Mr. Darcy’s import would not be bothered with such a trivial mission as ours. Such great men can scarcely be troubled to think of gloves, or fans, or any of the other trifles so essential to a lady’s happiness.”

  Elizabeth could no longer hold her tongue. “You are undoubtedly correct, Mr. Wickham. Mr. Darcy is gravely concerned for his sister’s welfare, to be sure. But it is difficult indeed to imagine him taking an exceptional interest in gloves or fans. In defining ‘essentials,’ you could not be more dissimilar.” Mr. Wickham’s expression of discomfiture was immediate, but Elizabeth quickly donned a disarming smile. “Miss Darcy, may I introduce you to my aunt and uncle?”

  Miss Darcy nodded. At the mention of her brother, she had released Mr. Wickham’s arm as if it were a live snake. Elizabeth now grasped her elbow gently and led her to where her aunt and uncle were standing, a few paces away.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Edward Gardiner, may I present Miss Darcy.”

  “We are delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Darcy,” her aunt said. “I had the very great pleasure of meeting Mr. Darcy several weeks ago.”

  Miss Darcy flushed at this mention of her brother and then paled as Elizabeth introduced Mr. Wickham. To her relief, her aunt and uncle greeted him cordially, betraying nothing.

  “I say, Mr. Wickham, if you are familiar with this district, you may do us a great service.” Mr. Gardiner’s manner was all amiability and ease, and Wickham, true to form, seized an opportunity to ingratiate himself.

  “I am always glad to be of assistance.”

  “My sister, Mrs. Bennet, is insistent that champagne be served at her daughter’s wedding breakfast, and no explanation of war or blockades will dissuade her. I understand some of the city’s finest wine merchants are somewhere along this street, and I have promised to make inquiries on her behalf. With little hope of success, you understand.”

  “I think you shall have as much luck finding champagne among these haberdasheries as you will in any wine shop,” Wickham replied. “It will come prodigiously dear if you do. But if you are determined to search, there are some very fine wine merchants toward the end of the street—and I believe a few more in old Bond Street.”

  “Would you be so good as to step outside with me and give the direction to my driver? I am afraid we do not frequent this district, and my wife will tell you I am notorious for losing my bearings in an unfamiliar street.”

  Elizabeth stifled a burst of laughter. A more inappropriate occasion for mirth she could not imagine, but to hear her uncle claim ignorance of London’s geography strained her composure. Mr. Gardiner had guided their tour of the Peak District with nary a wrong turning in a fortnight’s travel. Fortunately, Mr. Wickham was not acquainted with the infallibility of her uncle’s internal compass.

  “As I said, I am glad to be of any assistance.” He bowed to the ladies. “I shall return shortly,” he murmured to Miss Darcy. Then he followed Mr. Gardiner out to the street, and Elizabeth rejoiced in knowing his last promise to Miss Darcy would be broken as certainly as all his others.

  After the gentlemen departed, Elizabeth was able to give Miss Darcy a genuine smile. She begged the young lady’s assistance in selecting a parasol to complement Jane’s wedding gown. In all the excitement of recent weeks, Elizabeth realized she had neglected to purchase a wedding gift for her dearest sister, and it delighted her to have an honest purpose to mitigate the amount of deceit she had employed throughout the day.

  By the time a lovely lace-fringed parasol had been selected, purchased, and wrapped, Elizabeth felt secure that neither her uncle nor Mr. Wickham would be returning to the draper’s. The burden now became acquainting Miss Darcy with this reality. At a loss, Elizabeth cast her aunt a pleading look.

  “How fatiguing it is, standing about in shops on such a warm day!” her aunt declared. “Ladies, let us hire a carriage to Berkeley Square and treat ourselves to an ice at Gunter’s.”

  “Oh, I adore Gunter’s!” Miss Darcy exclaimed. “But we must wait for Mr. Wickham to return, of course.”

  Elizabeth and her aunt exchanged glances. Elizabeth drew near to the young lady,
took her arm gently, and whispered, “Mr. Wickham will not be returning, Miss Darcy.”

  “But certainly he shall!” she objected in a loud voice, drawing the attention of two ladies perusing a nearby display of feathers.

  “Of course, dear,” Aunt Gardiner took Miss Darcy’s other arm and began to lead her toward the front of the shop. “But let us look for him in the street. You know how easily a simple conversation between gentlemen regarding wine becomes a lengthy discussion of military strategy. It may be hours before they recall our presence.”

  When the men were nowhere to be found outside the establishment, Miss Darcy was reluctantly persuaded to hire a coach and wait within, but she would not hear of quitting Bond Street without Mr. Wickham.

  “To be sure, he will return any moment,” she insisted, peering through the coach window at the passing crowds. “He must, for in a few hours we are—that is, he is scheduled to depart for…”

  “For Gretna Green?” Elizabeth asked quietly.

  “You know?” Miss Darcy pressed her handkerchief to her mouth. “But how…

  Elizabeth pulled Miss Darcy’s letter from her reticule. “Yes, I know,” she said quietly, passing Miss Darcy the folded paper. “But you may be assured that no one else shall ever learn of this from me, or from my aunt.”

  Miss Darcy took the letter in her trembling hand. “Oh, my brother! I should have suspected that he would attempt to stop us.”

  “Miss Darcy, if you search your heart, I believe you will find that you did suspect just that. Surely this is why you left him such a letter—you were uncertain yourself about this rash engagement, and you knew Mr. Darcy would never allow you to come to any harm.”

  “Come to harm? I could never come to harm at the hands of Mr. Wickham. He has been a trusted friend of our family since my childhood. My father loved him almost as a son.”

  “Miss Darcy, the details are not mine to divulge, but you must believe me when I tell you that Mr. Wickham has used both your father and your brother very ill. He knew that under no reasonable circumstances would Mr. Darcy allow you to marry him. Why else would he press for this hasty elopement?”

  “For love, of course! And for the assurance that we would never be parted. There are many reasons!” Miss Darcy replied.

  “Yes, to be sure. Thirty-thousand of them, to be exact. Mr. Wickham is desperate for funds, Miss Darcy. He has debts with shopkeepers and gentlemen all over London, and no doubt in Meryton as well. When he left the draper’s with my uncle, he was immediately taken into custody of the magistrate. He will be held for nonpayment, and with any good fortune, sent to debtor’s prison directly.”

  “I cannot believe it! All gentlemen have debts. Whatever Mr. Wickham’s misfortunes, it would be my joy to assist him. He has given me so much, Miss Bennet—you cannot know! My own brother is not even aware of his kindness to me, for Fitzwilliam is so rarely in residence at our home. He has missed every one of Mr. Wickham’s visits.”

  “Mr. Wickham has called on you? Repeatedly?” Elizabeth did not know why she should be astonished at any further evidence of that man’s devious machinations.

  “Oh, yes—ever since the establishment was set up for me here in London, under the direction of Mrs. Younge. It was a dreadful time. I had never been from Pemberley for so long a duration, and it seemed Fitzwilliam was always away. I was so lonely, but Mr. Wickham took such pity on me! Occasionally he might call, bringing flowers or sweets, but more often we would meet by chance—while walking in the park, or at exhibitions Mrs. Younge thought beneficial to my education. So many happy coincidences must be attributed to our exceptional similarity of mind and disposition, George said.”

  So many coincidences, indeed! Elizabeth thought. Surely these encounters signaled some greater design, but she was not inclined to credit either chance or fate. It seemed far more likely that Mr. Darcy had been greatly deceived in the character of this Mrs. Younge.

  “George never failed to make me smile and laugh at his stories,” Miss Darcy continued. “And he would ask me questions and listen to my answers, as no one else ever did.” She picked at the stitches on her handkerchief nervously, and Elizabeth moved to sit beside her.

  “But then I took ill, and poor Mrs. Younge…” Miss Darcy’s voice trailed off, and she stared silently out the carriage window for some moments. “The next I heard, Mr. Wickham had entered the militia. You may imagine my complete surprise and delight to meet with him in Meryton! Our reunion there removed any doubt from my mind. We are meant for each other, I am certain of it.” Miss Darcy’s forlorn expression indicated anything but certainty, however. She balled the handkerchief tightly in her fist and rested her forehead against the window-glass.

  Elizabeth cast her aunt a questioning glance, and Mrs. Gardiner nodded in response. She gave a direction to the coachman, and the carriage lurched into motion. For some time, all three ladies were silent.

  “But our transport to Scotland is already booked!” Miss Darcy suddenly objected as they turned on to a residential street. “We leave this evening, on the mail coach. He has already purchased the wedding ring!”

  On Darcy credit, no doubt, Elizabeth thought to herself. She pitied the young lady immensely. Clearly Miss Darcy was incapable of absorbing the whole truth of Mr. Wickham’s character in one afternoon. When at last she did comprehend his villainy, the poor girl would be devastated. She covered Miss Darcy’s hand and squeezed it lightly.

  “Miss Darcy, I fear no one will be traveling tonight. But if you and Mr. Wickham are truly meant for one another as you say, these misunderstandings will be cleared up in time. Please, I urge you—discuss these matters and your feelings with your brother.”

  “Was he terribly angry?”

  “Mr. Darcy? Oh, no. His anger was reserved for Mr. Wickham alone. For you, he showed only the deepest concern. He will be greatly relieved to learn you are safe at home.”

  The carriage rolled to a halt before a grand townhouse.

  Miss Darcy sighed. “Home.”

  By now, Miss Darcy was thoroughly overwhelmed by the emotions and revelations of such a day. She numbly accepted the footman’s assistance in alighting from the carriage and entered her own home as though it had always been her intended destination. Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth introduced themselves to the rather shocked housekeeper, a formidable woman whose severe bearing suited them perfectly at the moment. Articulating as few details of the matter as possible, they expressed to her the utmost importance of keeping Miss Darcy safe at home until her brother should arrive. Mrs. Gardiner left her husband’s card as a reference should Mr. Darcy require further explanation on his return.

  Elizabeth spent most of the journey back to Cheapside crying quietly against her aunt’s shoulder. She could not ascribe her tears to any one emotion, but rather to the confluence of so many extreme sensations—anxiety, pity, fatigue, relief. She wiped her eyes and composed herself as they entered Gracechurch Street, where a highly put-out Hill awaited with the Bennet family coach and four.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he greeted her with a surly countenance. “Your father requests your presence at Longbourn.”

  “Go home, dear,” her aunt said gently. “Your uncle will send an express to Mr. Darcy directly, but there is nothing further you can do. Jane and your mother will be needing you—and the farm needs the horses.” She smiled warmly.

  Elizabeth had no available words to express her gratitude to her aunt—a heartfelt parting embrace was all she could manage.

  The length of the June day was such that the carriage reached Longbourn in the last lingering hour of dusk. It seemed impossible to Elizabeth that so much had transpired since this hour yesterday, when she had alighted from the same carriage at Lucas Lodge. Rationality argued that she might now rest easy—with Georgiana secure at the Darcy townhouse and Wickham under lock and key, her own return home ought to relieve all anxiety. But Mr. Darcy, no doubt still making for Scotland at breakneck speed, could not enjoy any respite from his apprehens
ion and grief. Until he knew his sister to be safe from further harm, neither would Elizabeth feel at peace.

  Mr. Bennet was waiting at the door when she entered. “I will see you in my library, Elizabeth.”

  She nodded and followed him silently, sitting down in the chair opposite his desk as he closed the door behind them. Mr. Bennet preferred to stand.

  “Well, child, let me tell you that you are exceedingly fortunate in one thing. I drank entirely too much of Sir William’s port last night and have suffered the most wretched headache for the entire day. As such, the decreased clamor of our household in Lydia’s absence was not entirely unwelcome, and I was loath to invoke your mother’s excesses by notifying her of your impetuous insubordination. I have abided by your wishes then, and allowed Kitty’s impression of events to stand undisputed.”

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  “I am seriously displeased, Lizzy. I shall expect a full accounting of this behavior.” His stern demeanor softened slightly. Her father appeared angered, to be sure, but his obvious relief at seeing her safely returned to Longbourn seemed to vanquish all disciplinary intent. Elizabeth realized that her father, too, had suffered a day of acute anxiety.

  “We will speak of this another time, Lizzy. For now, you may go upstairs and rest. I will send Mrs. Hill with a tray.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  He opened the door for her to leave, and she rose obediently. As she quit the room, however, she was moved by sudden impulse to kiss her father’s cheek.

  “I am so sorry, Papa,” she whispered.

  “I know, child,” he replied softly. “Though for your own sake, I do hope you managed to procure a few bottles of champagne during the course of this escapade. Otherwise, your mother will not be so forgiving.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Longbourn