Chapter 22
“What is the matter with you, Lizzy? You’ve been fidgeting all throughout dinner. And you have not touched a bite of your food,” her mother scolded. “Really, if you are to be a wife, you must understand that wasted food is a great evil. You will find yourself in ruin if your children treat your table like this someday.”
Elizabeth looked up at her mother and tried to take a bite. But her stomach was in too much turmoil to force even a small portion down her throat. She chewed slowly and swallowed with difficulty. “Forgive me, Mama. I am not feeling very well this evening.” After all, it was not a lie, Elizabeth thought. Her stomach was queasy and her pulse racing. She was only refraining from telling her mother that her indisposition was not due to any illness, but to the knowledge of the trap that was about to unfold for Mr Wickham later that evening.
It would be a momentous night indeed. If they could not make Mr Wickham confess, they would surely have no other choice but to go forward with the wedding.
Would that be so bad? Elizabeth had come to feel anything but reluctant about marrying Mr Darcy. On the contrary, if she could only believe that he viewed the possibility of their union with as much longing as she did, she would gladly marry him, compromise or no. In that light, Elizabeth thought uneasily, perhaps she ought to hope for their failure, for success would certainly mean an end to the idea that they ought to marry. How could she possibly admit that she no longer wanted to be vindicated and released?
“You are not feeling well, Lizzy? Oh, my dear girl, and when you are so soon to be wed! You must have some of my smelling salts, and we shall call Doctor Roberts, and —”
“There is no need, Mama, thank you. I am only nervous. I am sure it will soon pass.”
“But Lizzy —”
“Let her be. She has much to occupy her thoughts this evening,” her father said. All his family looked at him in surprise. It was a rare thing for him to speak at the dinner table unless he had something important to discuss. Usually, he allowed the girls to speak while he listened in silence, interspersed with sarcastic comments.
Her mother looked at her father sharply. “Indeed? Has something happened to put the engagement in jeopardy?” She only paused for a moment before looking at Elizabeth. “Tell me at once!”
Mr Bennet answered first. “There is nothing you need worry yourself about, Mrs Bennet.” He took a bite of his food and chewed very slowly. Elizabeth knew well it would drive her mother to distraction. “After dinner, I will see Elizabeth in the library alone. And I will not have any of you listening outside the door. Is that quite clear?” he ordered.
Thankfully, her younger sisters had the good sense not to whisper behind their hands, but Elizabeth could see that they were nearly drowning in curiosity.
Their curiosity would have to wait. Once dinner was finished, and rather more quietly than usual, her father sent her mother and younger sisters off to the parlour to engage in a game of cards or to read by the hearth. Jane was the only one allowed to follow them a short way down the corridor toward the library. “Is everything well, Lizzy?” Jane asked softly. “I would hate to think that you were in trouble in some way.”
“I am well,” Elizabeth assured her. “I cannot speak of anything at the moment, but know that hopefully, if all goes as Papa plans, I will be vindicated this night.”
Jane squeezed her hand. “Be careful, Lizzy,” she whispered. She left Elizabeth and her father alone, joining the rest of the family in the parlour. Elizabeth turned to her father, and they went to the library to carry out the plan that had been conceived only a few days prior.
Her father opened the door for her and came through behind her, closing it tightly. He waited to see if there would be any sounds of footsteps outside the door, but he need not have worried. Mr Bennet so rarely gave ultimatums that on the rare occasions he gave an order, the rest of the family dared not disobey him. “Are you prepared for what this night may bring, Lizzy?” her father asked. He lit several more candles from the one that had been left burning while they had sat down to dinner. “The course of this evening could drastically alter your future. Are you aware of that?”
Elizabeth clasped her hands in front of her. “I am,” she replied. “I am not afraid of marriage to Mr Darcy — not anymore. But I would rather have my conscience clear, free to marry for affection instead of being forced by circumstance. I am sure he would feel the same,” she said softly. Over the course of their acquaintance, her emotions had been in turmoil. Somehow, almost beyond her perception, she had begun to feel a certain respect for him, a confidence in his honour and care for others. Then respect had turned to confidence in him, confidence to friendship, and friendship to love. Elizabeth was ashamed now of how rashly she had judged Mr Darcy at first. And all over an insult, overheard by accident!
“Ah, here is Mr Darcy and the constable,” Mr Bennet said, breaking into her thoughts. “I told them to knock at the back window. I shall go to the servant’s entrance and let them in.” Her father opened the door and disappeared a moment later. It had seemed only prudent for them to come to the servant’s entrance to avoid alerting the rest of the family that something was afoot. It would be best for them to remain unaware of their plans until everything was brought to light.
Elizabeth wrung her hands as she waited for the gentlemen to join her in the study. She took several deep, steadying breaths to slow her speeding pulse. If all went well, they would learn the truth of Mr Wickham’s guilt or innocence that night.
Yet it was not only that that made Elizabeth’s heart beat faster. The thought of seeing Mr Darcy again left her strangely nervous. She had not seen him since they had parted ways at the gate to Longbourn, after meeting with her father in this very study.
Since the day, in fact, when she had first realised that she truly loved him.
With an effort, Elizabeth took a deep breath, willing herself to be calm. She told herself there was no reason to feel nervous. Surely nothing had changed between them.
Somehow, she could not quite bring herself to believe it.
When Mr Darcy appeared in the doorway, her heart nearly stopped. He was such a handsome figure of a man, but his calm, steady gaze instantly put her at ease. Or at least, as much at ease as she could feel at a moment like this.
The man who followed Mr Darcy was a barrel-chested and rather fatherly figure, with kind blue eyes and a balding pate. Elizabeth knew Constable Rathers of old. He had long been a good friend of her father’s, and one who always had a friendly word for Mr Bennet’s daughters.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Elizabeth said, bowing to each of them in turn. “It is a pleasure to see you both.”
Both men returned her bow. Constable Rathers gave her a cheerful greeting at once, but Mr Darcy hesitated a moment before coming to her. “Good evening, Miss Elizabeth. I trust you are well?” he asked.
That was a rather difficult question. “I am as well as can be expected under the circumstances,” Elizabeth said at last. “I hardly know what to say. I had looked forward to discovering the truth with great eagerness, but now…”
She placed her hand in his, and he brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles ever so gently. “I will be right here, Miss Elizabeth,” he whispered. She could hardly breathe. “Mr Wickham will not be allowed to hurt you any further.”
She nodded, and he released her hand. Elizabeth chided herself for being so absurd as to mourn its loss, but the separation was only momentary. Mr Darcy offered her his arm, and they joined her father and the constable to go over the plan one last time before Mr Wickham arrived. When all was settled, they sat down in her father’s comfortable and well-used chairs to wait.
Elizabeth tried not to let her nervousness show as they waited for Mr Wickham. The first stage of the plan had succeeded even beyond their hopes. When her father had invited Mr Wickham to come to Longbourn under the ruse of asking after Mr Darcy’s character, he had jumped at the chance. No doubt he was eager to sully Mr Darcy’s reputation with half-truths and outright lies.
“Are you well?” Mr Darcy leaned over and whispered to her as her father spoke with Constable Rathers. As Mr Bennet had expected, the constable had quickly agreed to help them with their plan. He would make a fine notable witness, should Mr Wickham confess to being the one who had planned and executed the compromise that had brought her and Mr Darcy together.
Elizabeth turned to Mr Darcy. The concern etched on his face touched her deeply. “You need not stay if you are unwell,” he added. “I am sure that Constable Rathers and I can handle things from here.”
She shook her head. She was not about to slink off and hide in her bedchamber while Mr Darcy and Constable Rathers had all the excitement. Besides, she wanted to hear for herself whether Mr Wickham had been the instigator of all their troubles. “No, Mr Darcy, but I thank you. I am quite well. Only I am a little jittery with all the waiting.”
Even though the first suspicion of Mr Wickham had been hers, Elizabeth could hardly believe that he could be responsible for so ugly a plot. He had acted as her friend since coming to Meryton. To suspect that he had used her to further his own ends made her sick to her stomach. She was ashamed of herself. If Mr Darcy had not come to the library the night of the Netherfield Ball, she might have fallen more deeply under Mr Wickham’s spell and been lost forever, just as Georgiana had almost succumbed.
“I am impressed by your fortitude in all of this, Miss Elizabeth. Hopefully, if all goes as planned this evening, our reputations will be restored.” Mr Darcy gave her a strange look. Was that not a flash of pain in his eyes? But why? “You will be free.”
Elizabeth nodded. She had no time to give any other answer, for the footman knocked on the library door and alerted them that Mr Wickham had been seen coming up the lane.
“Positions,” her father whispered. Immediately, Elizabeth, Mr Darcy, and Constable Rathers headed for the closet on the other end of the library. It was a tight squeeze, but they would have the advantage of being close enough to hear all that was said. Having left the doors open a crack, it was even possible to see part of the room. With luck, Mr Wickham would be none the wiser that three witnesses were concealed behind it, ready to hear the truth of what had happened.
They concealed themselves just in time. A moment later, another knock sounded on the door and Mr Wickham was announced. Elizabeth watched from the darkness, her shoulder just brushing Mr Darcy’s. She craned her neck to the left and saw Mr Wickham enter the room, his step confident and graceful. Elizabeth stifled a snort. The man could not have looked more arrogant if he had tried. What nerve! She took a deep breath to calm her anger. With a little luck, all would be put right this night. And if he would not confess, then she would be no worse off than she was already.
But there was no more time for wool-gathering. Her father was speaking to Mr Wickham.
“Mr Wickham, thank you for coming to see me on such short notice. I apologise for the lateness of the hour, but I am sure you can see that discretion is of the utmost importance.” Mr Bennet played his role perfectly, setting Mr Wickham at ease. Elizabeth watched in no little surprise. Her father had no patience for diplomacy, but it seemed that his quick wit and sense of humour made him admirably suited to intrigue.
“I am honoured that you asked me to come, Mr Bennet. Indeed, you are wise. A father ought to find out as much as he can about the character of the man his daughter is going to marry.” Mr Wickham spoke with a solemnity bordering on the sanctimonious. No doubt it would give him great pleasure to slander Mr Darcy to her father. She clenched her hands, wanting nothing more than to strike out at Mr Wickham — the snake!
Mr Bennet nodded solemnly. “The situation has been deeply distressing. I am forced to be grateful that Mr Darcy did the right thing and offered for my daughter. There is little I can do to stop the marriage from going forward. It would ruin poor Elizabeth. After such a scandal, she must marry, and quickly.”
“Quite, sir,” Mr Wickham said with a serious nod, sitting down across from Mr Bennet. Elizabeth could not like the gleam in his eyes.
Mr Bennet cleared his throat. “But I must confess, and I ask you to keep this to yourself, that I am uneasy. I find myself uncertain of Mr Darcy’s character. If he is truly unworthy, I would move heaven and earth to save my daughter. You may be in a position to give me very important information, Mr Wickham. Can I trust Mr Darcy with my daughter’s well-being, with her happiness?”
Mr Wickham was a schemer indeed, Elizabeth thought indignantly. He even made a decent pretence of thinking over what Mr Bennet had said, stroking his chin as though deciding how much he ought to say. Her father was playing the game exactly right. He was gaining Mr Wickham’s confidence, convincing him to put down his guard. Now, if only Mr Wickham would take the bait.
Mr Wickham sat down across from her father. “Oh, my dear sir, I only wish you could. How it pains me to speak ill of anyone bearing the name of Darcy! But I cannot do otherwise. My respect for yourself, and my concern, my — admiration — for your daughter all make it an imperative. I should be gravely afraid for any woman in the power of Mr Darcy. To support his pride or even his convenience, he could be guilty of terrible cruelty.” Mr Wickham leaned back, making himself comfortable. “You are right to be concerned, my dear sir.”
“I thank you for your honesty, sir,” Mr Bennet said. Elizabeth had no difficulty in recognising the slight tremor in her father’s voice as being borne of anger, but Mr Wickham likely thought it only concern. He went on without delay. “But what painful honesty is this! I would do anything to save my daughter, and yet I fear there is nothing I can do. Even if he is such a man, they must marry. It would be the ruination not only of Elizabeth, but of all my daughters if she does not marry.”
Mr Bennet stopped there. With luck, Mr Wickham would take his silence for despair, and not recognise it for what it was — baiting the hook.
The men were silent for a long moment, drawing out the tension until Elizabeth half-thought she would scream.
Then a small smile flitted across Mr Wickham’s face, almost too quickly to be seen, before being replaced by a carefully grave expression. “My dear Mr Bennet, I cannot bear this for so fine a family, so admirable a lady as Miss Elizabeth. Is there not some other way?”
Mr Bennet shook his head. “I can think of none.”
“And yet — yes — I believe I have an idea. Indeed, this might solve everything. What if I were to marry Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth met Mr Darcy’s eyes. His expression of grim satisfaction exactly mirrored her own feelings. Like a greedy trout, Mr Wickham was taking the bait.
Mr Bennet was too skilled an angler to attempt reeling him in all at once. “You, sir? No, it cannot be. After such a scandal, you would forever be distrusting her. It would be no less a misery than marriage to Mr Darcy. Why, I would spend every farthing in my possession to secure a worthy husband for my Lizzy, I would even mortgage Longbourn itself, but I do not see that it is possible for you to be tolerably happy with her.”
“No, sir, I assure you,” Mr Wickham said eagerly. “I have never believed that Miss Elizabeth was a willing party to this compromise. There is some mistake, I am sure.”
“That is very generous of you, Mr Wickham,” her father said gravely, “but it cannot be so. How could it be that you, alone of all our acquaintances, would so readily believe in her honour? Why, my daughter went to the library, after all. It cannot be justified.”
“No, not at all, sir. She was sent a note, after all — I cannot say that is any reflection on Miss Elizabeth’s virtue.”
“That is very interesting, Mr Wickham,” Mr Bennet said quietly. “Very interesting indeed, because there is no one in the world who knows that my daughter was lured to the library with a false note beyond those present at the meeting, myself — and the one who sent the note.”
Mr Wickham froze for only a moment before his natural composure reasserted itself. His voice was only a little strained when he spoke. “Ah — it was only a figure of speech, Mr Bennet. I merely assumed that Miss Bennet must have been brought to the library in some way, as she would not have followed Mr Darcy there.”
“Very good, Mr Wickham, but it will not serve,” Mr Bennet said ironically. “I know of your guilt, sir. A groomsman saw you lurking near Netherfield only the next day, likely to remove the trip wire you left behind!”
Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. What on earth was her father doing? They had no such witness among the servants, or the whole mystery would have been a very different thing. Mr Wickham had only to deny it, and their whole plan would fall like a house of cards.
But Mr Bennet was not allowing Mr Wickham time to recover his composure, or to think of a prudent answer. He went on in a low voice that shook with fury. “Confess, sir! You are the architect behind all this grief, and I shall have the matter out! How can you defend yourself, when young Whittaker saw you slink by that morning!”
“He certainly did not!” Mr Wickham snapped in a fury. “Your man Whittaker is a liar, that much I’ll swear, for I was not such a fool as to return to the library after that night!”
Mr Wickham instantly realised his mistake, but it was too late. All Mr Bennet’s put-on rage had vanished, to be replaced by satisfaction and icy contempt.
“No, Mr Wickham, he did not,” Mr Bennet said softly, “for indeed, there is no Whittaker at Netherfield Park. I made up the report so that you might condemn yourself out of your own mouth. As you have now done.”
Mr Wickham sneered at him, his cordial mask in tatters. “I will admit you have tricked me, Mr Bennet. I hope it was worth it. You have put me on my guard now, sir, and I assure you that no one will ever believe you in such a case. Mr Darcy has agreed to marry your daughter, sir. You ought to be grateful, for I assure you, I never thought he would. Take that as your victory, and leave me be, for you certainly can do nothing against me.”
“I believe you will find you are mistaken,” Mr Bennet said mildly. “Constable, Mr Darcy, Lizzy, perhaps you might come out now.”
They followed the suggestion with alacrity. Mr Darcy kept himself between Elizabeth and Mr Wickham, mindful even now of his promise to protect her.
With grim satisfaction, Elizabeth thought it was not likely that he would need to act on that promise. Mr Wickham looked as if he might fall over in a dead faint. His mouth worked as he backed away toward the door. “What is this?” he demanded. His path was blocked, for the constable had stepped in front of it to ensure he could not escape. “Turn and face your accusers, sir,” Constable Rathers snarled.
Mr Wickham straightened, lifting his chin in defiance. “I have nothing more to say. You, Mr Bennet, have acted most underhandedly in luring me here tonight. It is most ungentlemanly to ambush me like this!”
“It is most ungentlemanly to ruin my daughter’s reputation without a second thought. You will answer for that, sir. I will see to it you do,” Mr Bennet growled. In all her life, she had never seen her father like this.
Mr Wickham glanced at Elizabeth, then pinned Mr Darcy with an unswerving stare. “I should have known you would stoop to something like this. Tell me, how is dear Georgiana? Still locked away for her little indiscretion?”
No doubt Mr Wickham had meant to draw Mr Darcy into a fight by alluding to the events that had taken place at Ramsgate. He was to be disappointed, for Mr Darcy merely turned to him with a look of profound contempt. “My sister’s well-being is none of your concern.” He turned to the constable. “There is another matter at hand that is much more in need of our attention, is there not?”
Her father stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Yes, there is. Mr Wickham, you are well and truly caught. Now, it would benefit you to tell us why you arranged the compromise between my daughter and Mr Darcy.”