by J Dawn King
He felt like a lad, like an immature fifteen-year-old whose voice threatened to crack and whose big feet seemed to always get in the way.
Taking himself to task through sheer force of will, he brought himself under good regulation. Whom was he trying to fool? He grinned so widely he could almost feel his cheeks in his ears.
Walking down the staircase, a spring in his step, the butler directed him to the drawing room. Elizabeth was alone. A maid entered directly behind him and sat in a corner, picking something out of the work basket, giving all her attention to her needlework.
Moving across the room, he stood in front of the most perfect woman for him. What a moon calf he was!
He asked.
He was accepted, first dance and all.
He left for Hertfordshire as the happiest man alive.
CHAPTER 18
He was livid. Darcy rode towards Longbourn like the hounds of Hell were hot on his heels. Wickham was gone, missing from the regiment and unseen in Meryton. Richard had demanded information from the rake’s commanding officer, and Colonel Forster had responded by sharing how Wickham had vanished into mid-air two nights prior. A search had been started, but no trace had been found. By all accounts, there were no ladies missing from the area, and all of the other officers were accounted for. He had gone alone.
Arriving at the Bennet home, Darcy turned towards his cousin. “Be prepared for anything.”
Only for Miss Elizabeth would Darcy again approach the estate. Four days had passed since she had sent an express to her father warning him about allowing association with Wickham. When Darcy had departed Gracechurch Street after visiting Georgiana that morning, Miss Elizabeth had yet to receive a reply.
“Tell me, again, why are we here?” Richard sighed. “I cannot imagine either of us will be welcomed by the master.”
“I suppose not,” Darcy mused, as he dismounted. Dropping his reins, he set out for the front door. “Miss Elizabeth will want to know any news from her family, and I have a suspicion that her youngest two sisters might have an idea as to which direction Wickham might have headed.”
The colonel nodded, following behind.
Mr. Bennet’s “enter” was brusque, as was expected. Again, he offered no courtesy. Neither did Darcy. Without preamble, he stated the purpose of his call.
“Your daughter has been awaiting a reply to her express. The colonel and I are headed back to town and would be pleased to carry any correspondence to Gracechurch Street.”
“You are now delivering the post, are you?” Miss Elizabeth’s father scoffed. “You are a man of many talents, Mr. Darcy.”
“I am in the service of your beloved child.” Darcy regulated his breathing so he would keep his temper restrained. Miss Elizabeth loved the man in front of him. She would be angry if Darcy unsettled him. It was not fair, but it was one way to please her.
Mr. Bennet waved his hand. “Jane wrote to Lizzy. I had nothing to add.”
“Nothing?” Darcy almost had to bite his tongue. “Are you aware George Wickham is no longer in Meryton?”
“My youngest have made me aware.” Mr. Bennet sat back in his chair and folded his hands, resting them on his middle. He peered at them from over the top of his spectacles. “For some odd reason, the local merchants denied the lieutenant additional credit. I understand his movements were curtailed and his participation in social events nonexistent. Both Kitty and Lydia have yet to stop wailing over their heartache.” He chuckled.
There was nothing about the conversation that Darcy found funny. Judging by the expression on Richard’s face, neither did he.
“For some odd reason?” Darcy asked, his voice unusually quiet. “You do not know why Wickham was denied entry into Meryton’s businesses? Did you not care to discover the character of the man you had hoped to attach to Miss Elizabeth and to your household?”
“My Lizzy has a discerning eye, Mr. Darcy. She wisely turned away both Mr. Collins and Lt. Wickham. My assistance was not needed.”
A churning cauldron of emotions threatened to erupt from Darcy’s mouth. When he saw Richard reach for the hilt of his sword, he knew it was time to leave. They would accomplish nothing with Mr. Bennet.
Darcy gave a curt bow.
“I will reassure your daughter that we found you to be as you always are.” He heard the insult and assumed Miss Elizabeth’s father had enough perception to as well. “We will take our leave from the rest of the house and return to London.”
Mr. Bennet waved his hand to hurry them on their way. Grabbing a book from the stack on the corner of his desk, he ignored their departure from his bookroom.
Stepping into the hall, Darcy leaned back against the wall, his eyes tightly shut, his nostrils flaring. How could a man …? He would not finish. That Miss Elizabeth had compared his actions to her father’s hurt him to the core. He, Fitzwilliam Darcy, was not Mr. Bennet. Rubbing his fist on his chest, he stepped away from the wall and walked to the drawing room.
As soon as they were announced, quiet settled over the two youngest Bennets. Darcy was pleased Mrs. Bennet was not in attendance. Taking advantage of this unexpected opportunity, he bowed to the two girls.
“Miss Catherine. Miss Lydia.”
He noted the eldest of the two was far more demure than the other times he had been in her presence and wondered at the difference in her composure. Miss Lydia acted the same as he had been accustomed to during his stay in Hertfordshire.
“Why, Colonel. You are returned.” The youngest ignored Darcy’s greeting and sauntered to stand next to his cousin, putting her hand on his arm. “I knew you could not stay away from me.”
Richard stayed in place. He could be charming when needed, and he had apparently decided he could catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. He patted her hand. It was a bold, forward move which could easily be misconstrued.
“You knew, did you?” The colonel took a small step away from Miss Lydia. “My purpose in being here today is to offer you both a sincere apology.” He bent his head, but he did not lose eye contact.
“An apology? Why, whatever for?” Miss Lydia shuffled slightly so she regained her proximity. She was relentless. Darcy had to give her that much.
“You are all kindness to have overlooked my aggression towards a fellow officer.” His cousin turned his head to gaze down at Miss Lydia, giving the impression he was captivated. Had Darcy not seen this move before, he would have suspected his cousin’s attachment to Miss Knowlton was fragile. “When last we were in company, albeit briefly, you had been slighted by Wickham and had to sit out the first as a result. Might I enquire, have you forgiven him his trespass?”
The youngest Bennet daughter dropped her hand from Richard as if his arm was burning hot. She spun away and dropped into the closest vacant chair.
“Lt. Wickham is…,” she began, only to be interrupted by her sister.
“Lydia, we are not to speak of Lt. Wickham,” Miss Kitty whispered, though both men could hear each word clearly. “Remember. We promised.”
“Humph!” In a move reminiscent of her father, Miss Lydia slumped in the chair and rested her fisted hands on her middle. “What do we owe him, Kitty?” she snarled. “He abandoned us for that freckle-faced Miss King and her ten-thousand pounds.” Sniffing loudly, she continued unchecked. “If only I had ten-thousand. We would be off to London instead of…” She slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes growing large and her chin dropping.
“Lydia!” Kitty howled her displeasure. “We promised.”
Darcy felt they had learnt enough. “Ladies, pray do not be concerned that we would ever tell the lieutenant where we heard his plans. Your information is safe with us,” he quickly reassured them. “But, I am curious.” He glanced at Richard to see his look of confusion. “Why did you not tell this information to Colonel Forster when he asked about Wickham’s whereabouts? The man is wanted for desertion in a time of war. I cannot conceive of your not wanting to protect yourselves and your neighbours fro
m a traitor to the crown.”
Miss Lydia looked up from her seat, her expression belligerent. “They never asked.”
Darcy wanted to throw his hands in the air. Instead, he strove to remain calm. Richard huffed and turned his back on the young ladies, struggling not to hit something in frustration.
Clearing his throat, Darcy asked, “Miss Catherine, Miss Lydia, had Colonel Forster not been remiss and instead chose to place you under oath, what could you have told him about George Wickham?”
Miss Lydia sulked in her chair, her lips pressed together.
“Under oath?” Miss Kitty started wringing her hands together, and her breathing quickened. “Like in a court with a judge?”
“Yes.” Darcy was stretching the colonel’s authority and was hoping, in their youthfulness, the young ladies were exceedingly gullible. He now focused all his attention on Miss Catherine.
“I do not know what to do, Mr. Darcy,” she fluttered. “We promised, and a lady should never go back on a promise.”
Her sister snorted. “A lady would never sneak away for kisses with a man who has yet to offer marriage, Kitty.”
The reply was immediate. The men forgotten. Miss Kitty turned on her sister, her expression fierce, and her hands fisted on her hips. Oh, yes. Darcy knew that move.
The eldest shrieked, almost an exact imitation of their mother. “As it happened, Capt. Carter and Lt. Wickham spoke of marriage.”
“Not to you,” was the immediate reply.
“Well, no, not exactly to me, but it was only because they did not have the funds.” The volume failed to decrease as the last came out most unwillingly. “Lt. Wickham told me he would be coming into a large sum when in town. Then, he could marry.” She stepped closer to Miss Lydia and Darcy feared fists would fly. “Just because you have decided to have untouched lips, Lydia Bennet, does not mean we all should.”
Untouched lips? He looked at his cousin, who shrugged his own lack of comprehension of these youthful female minds.
“With Jane engaged to Mr. Bingley, I will not be the first Bennet to marry, but I will go to my wedding chaste from my head to my toes, Kitty Bennet.” She leapt from the chair and faced her sister.
“I am untouched too—almost,” Miss Kitty wailed.
“Oh, good heavens, Kitty. Just tell them and be done with it.” Miss Lydia lifted her chin, demanding compliance from her older sister. “What is Wickham to us? And besides, we will owe Mr. Darcy once he takes that miserable Miss Bingley to his grand estate. Jane will have peace in her marriage, and we will go back to having the best bonnets in Meryton.”
He was stunned. Him, take Miss Bingley to Pemberley? He shuddered involuntarily.
“Well, if you think it best.” Moving to stand next to her sister as if there had never been voices raised between the two, Miss Catherine’s words sent layers upon layers of chills down his spine. “I was looking at the ribbons through the window of the haberdashery when Lt. Wickham came from the alleyway. He whispered so none other could hear.” She lifted her chin as if she was proud to have been the recipient of gossip not shared with others. “He told me Miss King meant nothing to him, that her uncle had swept her away to the coast that very morning. Reminding me of the harm you had caused him since his youth, Mr. Darcy, he said he was going to London for a fatted calf worth thirty-thousand pounds.”
Both Darcy and Richard sucked in their breath, then immediately struggled to regain their composure. Georgiana!
“I cannot imagine a calf being worth thirty-thousand. A cow would be worth more because there is more meat on its hide, and she could produce milk, but a calf?” Miss Kitty speculated. “I believe he might have been teasing.”
Darcy’s inclination was to vacate the premises, jump on his horse, and ride like the wind back to town. Fear shook him. He could give nothing away in case Wickham returned. These two would tell all without care for the harm it would do others.
Bowing, he took their leave. “Miss Catherine, Miss Lydia, we thank you both for your time and the helpful information. You are an asset to the community.” He paused before he turned to leave. “Pray give our greetings to your mother and sisters. We are sorry we missed being in their company.”
“You? Miss being in Mama’s company?” Miss Lydia snorted. “What a joke.”
“Be that as it may…,” was the only response he could form. “Good day.”
Their horses were where they had left them. Both Darcy and Richard shook their heads at the incivility of their unwilling host failing to request the attendance of a groom. As it was, they were allowed a few minutes of privacy before they departed.
“I need a few moments at Netherfield Park with Bingley and his sister. Would you…?” He did not need to finish.
“I am off to London to see to Georgiana’s safety and find that scoundrel.”
“We will meet at Gracechurch Street, then.” Darcy’s gut wrenched at the task ahead. It was time. He had put it off too long.
Mounting quickly, they both rode hard to their destinations.
CHAPTER 19
Miss Caroline Bingley entered her brother’s study with an anticipatory smile on her face. Darcy shivered in disapprobation. It dawned on him that he felt the same about Miss Lydia, but only after she opened her mouth to speak. With Bingley’s sister, it was at the first sight of her.
“How pleasant it is to have you returned to us. Pray, how was London? Did you, by chance, visit Georgiana, or is she too involved with her masters? Perhaps she is still at Pemberley? Oh, I do love dear Georgiana.” She did not wait for a response. “Pray, let me order tea, and the housekeeper will prepare your rooms. You are staying, are you not?”
“No, I am not.” He was as brusque as Mr. Bennet had been earlier. He was not there for idle chit-chat.
Bingley had been pleased when Darcy had stated his purpose upon his arrival.
“This is well-timed, my friend. With my engagement to Jane, it would be best to have Caroline away from Netherfield Park. She would not budge if any hope existed of you returning.” Bingley nodded as he spoke. “She has never listened when I spoke of your disinterest in her as a wife. I agree this is the only means of breaking through her fierce determination so she will understand she needs to look elsewhere for a mate.”
“Yes, well.” Darcy’s conscience was flogging him. He had, like with Wickham, allowed this to go on too long.
Giving her his full attention, he spoke the words he had practised as he rode from Longbourn to her home. “Miss Bingley, I thank you for your offer of hospitality. However I will be returning to London post haste.” He waited for her to be seated before he spoke directly to her. “My purpose for coming today is to make perfectly clear to you once and for all that my future does not include you as my wife. I have spoken of my attachment to another lady with my aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Matlock. We have attended the opera, and I will be standing up with her at my aunt’s ball tomorrow evening. My hope is that our courtship will lead to marriage.”
He waited for the explosion. None came.
“Might I enquire who has gained your favour?”
Her question was bold, and he was again reminded of Miss Lydia Bennet. While he owed Miss Bingley nothing, his lack of taking charge of his own affairs and his accountability for unintentionally increasing her expectations by not taking a stand earlier, led him to answer.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Eliza Bennet!” Miss Bingley stood, her hand to her chest, her face devoid of colour, and her voice dripping with scorn. “How could you? She has blinded you, sir. You have fallen for her tricks and allurements. Separate yourself from her,” Caroline insisted. “She is unattractive, unfashionable, and unrefined. She would be a blight on the Darcy name and reputation. And what of Georgiana? What sort of future will she have with Miss Eliza as her sister? Never will that impertinent chit be welcomed into the best houses and neither will her family.” She threw her hands into the air. “Her mother! Can you imagine Mrs. Bennet a
nd Lady Matlock together? What of Lady Catherine de Bourgh? Can you conceive of a family gathering at Pemberley with Mrs. Bennet taking charge?” She pointed her finger at him. “You, sir, have been deceived.”
“I have nothing else to say to you, Miss Bingley,” he spoke calmly. “Your attempts to gain my attention have been noted and rejected by me. My position on this will not change.” He turned to his friend.
“Bingley, you and your bride have an open invitation to Pemberley that I hope you will take advantage of in the future.” He turned to his host’s sister. “You, Miss Bingley, by not accepting my decision with grace and good manners, will not be welcomed. Your uncharitable remarks about Miss Elizabeth and her family will not serve you well, for they will be your family as soon as Charles marries. How he chooses to address your sour attitude is up to him. For me? You have made my decision very easy. If I hear of you using my name to gain access to society, I will crush you. Am I clear?”
