Chapter Eleven
Darcy and Fitzwilliam had an early breakfast with only Mr. Bennet and Miss Bennet in attendance. Farewells were spoken at the morning table, where he repeated his plans for both his future father and wife. “I hope this meets with your expectations. If not, please tell me now before all the paperwork is complete.”
“I hold no questions,” Mr. Bennet said with a slight nod of acceptance. “Do you, Jane?”
Frustratingly, his betrothed sat with her eyes diverted and staring at her hands, that rested in her lap. “None of which I could address, sir,” she said obediently.
When the plates were removed, Darcy said, “Thank you for your gracious hospitality, Mr. Bennet. Please present our deepest regards to the rest of your family. We will return Wednesday next. Will you be able to accommodate the colonel and me again? Are you expecting additional relations to attend?”
“There are the Philips in the village,” Mr. Bennet explained. “Mrs. Philips is Mrs. Bennet’s sister. Philips is a solicitor.”
Darcy did not roll his eyes, but the colonel did. “If I had known,” he said with a hint of frustration crept into his tone, “I would have asked the gentleman to complete the paperwork for the marriage settlements.”
“All is well,” Bennet declared, and Darcy stifled his sigh. Instead, he turned to Miss Bennet. “If there is anything in London of which you are desirous, especially anything for the ceremony, please send me a note, and I will see that it is procured for you.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said without looking up to him, “but I believe all has been arranged by Mrs. Bennet.”
With nothing else to say, he bowed to the Bennets and made his way to the carriage. Another bow and a nod of farewell saw him climbing into his carriage. “Darcy House, Mr. Farrin,” he instructed.
Fitzwilliam followed Darcy inside, and they rolled slowly away from the Longbourn estate. Even so, as they passed Oakham Mount, Darcy leaned forward to search the scene for Miss Elizabeth. He wished a final look upon the woman. He thought he had underestimated her, but as the coach circled the hill, he caught a glimpse of the lady’s dark blue cape. He wished he could view her, but the cape fluttering in the wind was the last of his memories of the woman. As the carriage turned again, he sat back and closed his eyes to claim the memory of both her countenance and her anger last evening.
Elizabeth watched the progress of Mr. Darcy’s coach as it made its way towards the entrance to Longbourn. “One more week,” she told herself. “Actually eight days until the wedding. Then I must spend the remainder of my days avoiding him when the family gathers to celebrate Christmastide and other such celebrations.
“If all goes on as I suspect, soon Mary shall be less than five miles from Jane at Pemberley. As Mrs. Ericks, Mary shall be a leader in the local community. I hold no doubt Mary will see that Jane fulfills her commitment to Mr. Darcy’s cottagers and the village. I have already hinted to such matters to my younger sister. Over the next week, I shall craft a means to assist Mary, and she may assist Jane as the new Mrs. Darcy.”
It was quite ironic when Elizabeth considered how she knew more of what Mr. Darcy required in a wife than did Jane. When she reflected back on their upbringing, being Mr. Bennet’s “son” had presented Elizabeth the skills to be both mistress of the house, but also a man’s partner. Mr. Darcy obviously employed a myriad of servants to make both his London home and his Derbyshire home a “machine” that did not require constant supervision, but keeping his cottagers and the land productive in a time where more and more of those who once willingly worked the land required something other than a simple order from the master: It required an investment in the cottagers’ lives and the encouragement of those in the great house. Elizabeth and Mary did just that at Longbourn, where Jane was like their mother: Jane excelled at sitting around the house and appearing to be its mistress.
Elizabeth sighed heavily. “It is the best I can do. My speaking to Jane would not serve either my sister or Mr. Darcy. Jane will withdraw deeper into her fears. Perhaps it would be best if I also write to Samuel Ericks and speak to him of what I know of the situation and encourage him to claim Mary sooner, rather than later. He could assist Mary in counseling Jane.”
Her decision made, Elizabeth turned her steps to the descent. “Soon I shall be left only to the memories of a man I had hoped never to encounter again—a man I shall . . . No, I cannot ever consider the gentleman in those terms. He shall be Jane’s husband, forever and ever.”
The following day, Elizabeth had not been happy regarding the sudden appearance of Lydia and Mr. Wickham on Longbourn’s threshold, and she, like the rest of the household, knew this turn of events had been at Mrs. Bennet’s hands. Elizabeth prayed that her mother had informed Lydia of Jane’s “good fortune” before Mr. Darcy had issued his warning, but one never truly knew the right of things with Mrs. Frances Bennet. The carriage had been sent to meet them along the coaching route to London. Their arrival had been dreaded by the other Bennet daughters, who had heard every threat Mr. Darcy had made, and realized, obviously better than did their mother, something of Jane’s sacrificial marriage to Mr. Darcy would provide them the opportunity to know their own marriages. Elizabeth feared Jane’s promise to the man would now be in vain.
The Wickhams came, nevertheless. The family was assembled in the breakfast room to receive them. A smile decked the face of Mrs. Bennet, as the carriage drove up to the door. Mr. Bennet looked impenetrably grave; the Bennet daughters were alarmed, anxious, and uneasy.
Shortly, Lydia’s voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and their youngest sister ran into the room. Mrs. Bennet embraced Lydia and welcomed her with rapture. Mr. Wickham followed Lydia into the room, taking time to wish one and all joy with alacrity.
Mr. Bennet’s reception of the pair was not so cordial. His countenance, in Elizabeth’s opinion, rather gained in austerity, and he scarcely opened his lips. Obviously, the continued easy assurance of the Wickhams was enough to provoke her father.
Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Jane appeared uneasy with their appearance, as well as fearful of what this meant for her wedding. No one wanted a reminder of the Bennet family’s recent fall from grace at Lydia’s hands. Assuredly, their presence at the wedding would upset Mr. Darcy further, and, this time, his complaints would be well founded.
Unfortunately, Lydia was still Lydia: Untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless. When they all sat down together, Lydia looked eagerly around the room, took notice of some little alteration and observed, with a laugh, “It surely has been a great while since I have been here.”
Wickham was not at all more distressed than his wife, but his manners were always so pleasing, and it was obvious he meant to be pleasant to his wife’s family. Even so, Elizabeth asked herself: “Why now?” Mr. Wickham’s smiles and easy address should have delighted them all, but only Mrs. Bennet appeared happy for the reunion.
Yet, good manners had Elizabeth sitting down with the others, resolving within herself to draw no limits in the future to the impudence of an impudent man. She blushed, and Jane blushed. Kitty turned red, as did Mary. Yet, the cheeks of the two who created a world where Jane was required to marry a man she did not affect and where Elizabeth would remain barren suffered no shame.
“It seems forever since I went away,” Lydia declared happily, “and yet here we are and things at Longbourn, generally, have stayed the same. Good gracious! When I went away, I am sure I had no more idea of being married till I came back again!”
Elizabeth noted her father lifting his eyes to Heaven, likely praying for patience. Jane wrung her handkerchief through her fingers. Elizabeth doubted that Mr. Darcy confided everything to Jane that he had shared with her, but the gentleman had made his stance clear to the whole family regarding Mr. Wickham.
“Why did you decide to return to Longbourn at this particular time?” Elizabeth asked, having tired of the pretense.
Lydia puffed up in apparent hurt. “That is most unkind, Lizzy.”
“No more unkind than your throwing caution to the wind and bringing shame on all your sisters. We possess no social life. No house calls for Mama. No gentlemen seeking our attention. Your marriage cost us our dowries, for they were required to pay your husband’s debts and the purchase of his lieutenancy.”
“Elizabeth Elaine!” her mother reprimanded.
“What has Elizabeth said which is not true?” Mary asked.
Mr. Bennet claimed the conversation, “Though Elizabeth is a bit too blunt for a gently-born lady, I am not so constrained by society. I am assuming Frances wrote to you of Jane’s upcoming marriage, and Mr. Wickham recognized Mr. Darcy’s name in the correspondence. Therefore, you rushed here to claim what you could from the man. Unfortunately, at least in your estimation, you erred. The gentleman has strictly said that he will not finance even one penny of Mr. Wickham’s life. He did not express a reason for his adamancy, but based on the crime Mr. Wickham has exacted against this family and this community, and with your permission and cooperation, Lydia, I can only imagine the liberties your husband has taken against a man he wished to replace in the late Mr. Darcy’s heart.”
“I am not required to remain in a house where I am not welcomed,” Mr. Wickham said as he rose in obvious anger.
“Mr. Bennet did not mean his words,” their mother assured.
“I did mean every one, Mrs. Bennet. I have not often enough corected you, but, when the Lucases and others about Longbourn have placed themselves above you and my daughters, I must be a man. Someday that twit William Collins will be the master of Longbourn, and you will be turned out into the ‘hedgerows,’ as you so often exclaim. We have robbed our four eldest daughters of a future because of Lydia’s impetuous nature. Not one more penny. I am copying Mr. Darcy’s stance in this manner, though for likely different reasons, but worthy reasons, nevertheless.”
“If such is to be my welcome, I should take myself off to Meryton, or mayhap on to London,” Mr. Wickham said with a lift of his chin in apparent umbrage, though all but Mrs. Bennet and Lydia recognized his ploy for what it was.
“I have paid off all your debts in the village,” Mr. Bennet said with equal daring, “but I warned each I would no longer finance their gullibility. Perhaps it might be better if you wait along the road and flag down the coach.”
“I shall go with you,” Lydia declared.
“No!” Mr. Wickham said with a bit too much emphasis. “It is me with whom your family objects.”
“But, Wicky,” Lydia whined.
“I will return in a day or two, and we may be on our way to Newcastle.” He bent to kiss Lydia’s upturned cheek. “Three days maximum.”
“Three is not a day or two,” Mary remarked. “Which is it, sir?”
“Three,” Wickham hissed in obvious irritation.
“That would be a Sunday,” Mary continued. “You should not travel on the Sabbath.”
Elizabeth knew pride in Mary’s actions; yet, it was very telling that Jane, who had the most to lose if the Wickhams were permitted at the wedding, had not spoken of the possibility of having her wedding ruined. Had Jane silently wished for a different outcome for that day?
“Monday morning then,” Wickham said in obvious anger. “I am assuming I will be welcomed for one evening at Longbourn.”
Mr. Bennet straightened his stance. “For Mrs. Bennet’s sake, I am willing to extend my welcome to you for Monday evening. You and Mrs. Wickham will depart Tuesday morning, two days before Jane’s wedding to Mr. Darcy.”
“But I wanted to . . .” Lydia began with a pout.
Mr. Bennet overrode his youngest daughter’s protest. “You will depart with your husband Tuesday morning. By law, you presented Mr. Wickham dominion over your life when you married him on a ‘lark.’”
“I hate you!” Lydia declared with a huff, hiding her face and supposed tears in a pillow from the settee upon which she sat.
“I do not much care for myself either at this point in my life, when I should be enjoying my reclining years with grandchildren and bragging rights within my community. Part of this family’s downfall rests fully upon my shoulders, but parts sit upon your selfishness and your mother’s guilt at not producing an heir for the estate. The guilt does not belong to Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, or Kitty, but they will bear the brunt of all our failures.” With that, he turned to walk away, but before he left the room, he called over his shoulder, “I expect to hear the door close behind you in the next five minutes, Mr. Wickham. Otherwise, I shall be forced to return with my favorite gun and escort you out myself. In some ways, I am praying for that particular opportunity to restore a bit of my manhood.”
After a restless night of sleep, Darcy went out early for a walk in a nearby park where, by happenstance, he encountered Mr. Bingley. “Well met,” he said as he bowed to his friend.
“Good day, Darcy,” Bingley said as he, too, bowed.
“Where have you set as your destination?” Darcy asked. “Might we walk together?”
“The Hursts have come to Town. Caroline is with them.”
Though he did not wish to greet Bingley’s family, Darcy fell in step with his friend. “Did you take the estate in Buckinghamshire?”
Bingley shook off the idea. “There were too many leaks in the roof to suit my peace of mind.”
“Although I did not view Netherfield Park up close, Miss Elizabeth assured me, with the recent passing of its owner, it has only sat empty for two years.”
“Miss Elizabeth?” Bingley asked.
“Yes, she is one of Miss Bennet’s sisters. You likely recall the name. Very knowledgeable about the land and the running of her father’s estate. Told me and Fitzwilliam how several in the neighborhood have formed a ‘coalition’ of sorts, going together to purchase seed and supplies to claim better prices, as well as assisting each other during planting season and the like. Unfortunately, the former owner of Netherfield Park was one of the founding members of the group. You could have several gentlemen with estates and large farms who would support your efforts with the land and the manor house, if you wished to rethink the property. I could write to Mr. Bennet on your behalf if you are interested. I can speak without assistance to the easy accessibility of the roads. You would not be so far from St Albans, as well as Cambridge and Norfolk.”
“When is your marriage to Miss Bennet?” Bingley asked.
“Thursday next.”
“So soon?”
“I require a wife. The lady requires a husband. There is no sense in waiting,” Darcy replied.
“Will you marry in London?” Bingley asked as they paused upon the path.
“No, Miss Bennet’s preference was that the local vicar speak the vows. Neither of us are of the mind for a large wedding party or ceremony. Her immediate family is all. Fitzwilliam will stand with me.”
“The Matlocks will not attend?” Bingley inquired in obvious surprise.
“I chose not to involve the earl or Lady Catherine,” Darcy reported.
“Is this Miss Bennet’s choice? Was she overwhelmed with the idea of marrying into the earldom?”
Darcy swallowed both his criticism of Miss Bennet and his irritation at Bingley’s continued reticence. “We agreed that we both preferred a simple joining. I sent word of the notice to my new rector, Mr. Ericks, so he might alert the community. I have also written to Mr. Nathan to prepare Pemberley for the new Mrs. Darcy’s arrival.”
“It sounds as if you have everything well in hand,” Bingley remarked in an odd tone, which Darcy did not recognize as fitting one of his friend’s nature.
Darcy knew the arrangements for the ceremony had been addressed, but “everything well in hand” was an exaggeration. However, before he could construct an appropriate response, another familiar figure stepped before him.
“Darcy!”
Darcy froze while complete dread drained the color from his face. “What are you doing in London?” he hissed.
“Where else should I be? My wife wished to call upon her parents, and I, naturally, thought you would require my assistance. After all, next week, we will be brothers.”
“We will never be ‘brothers’!” Darcy growled. “I have made my stance at Longbourn perfectly clear to the Bennets regarding your marriage to the youngest Bennet daughter. As far as I am concerned, you may rot in Hell. If the Bennets wish to support Mrs. Wickham and I suppose, you, it must be from their pockets, not mine.”
Bingley stepped closer to Darcy’s side. “Perhaps it would be best, Mr. Wickham, if you join who you came to London to visit and leave this conversation behind. I was present years ago when Darcy drove you from his family estate. I possess no doubt he would gladly do the same today.”
“Even the great Fitzwilliam Darcy does not have the right to order me from a public park,” Wickham asserted.
“Stay. Do not stay, I care not,” Darcy growled. “Just remember what I said. No money from me. Earn your living as a soldier, a shopkeeper, a farmer, or a gambler. I do not care if you live. Nor if you die. I will not present you a second thought. My father never recognized your conniving—your lying nature, for he only saw you as the son of a man he greatly admired. You received your father’s glory, not one of your own. Whereas, I have been the constant . . .”
“Constant what?” Wickham interrupted. “Master? You always thought yourself my master just as your supposedly exalted father thought himself the ‘master’ of mine. You were always to go first, for you were the son of Pemberley’s master. Do you know what it is like to come second or third or fourth?”
Bingley answered for Darcy. “He is not the son of the Earl of Matlock as are his cousins. Many walk before Darcy, but he is a gentleman by birth and in his actions. He presents others their due when they deserve to go before him. In truth, neither you nor I were born to be a ‘gentleman,’ though we each were presented with a gentleman's education at Cambridge.”
“You still are on the outside looking in,” Wickham asserted with a snarl. “Just like me.”
“Not so,” Darcy contradicted Mr. Wickham’s insult. “Mr. Bingley has used his education to improve not only the legacy of his father’s trade, but to move his sisters into the ranks of the landed gentry. He has prospects of owning an estate soon. Whereas . . .”
“Whereas I am again on the outside looking in,” Wickham countered.
“Outside? My father’s will offered you the opportunity to take orders and be presented a living as quickly as it became vacant, along with a legacy of one thousand pounds. It was your choice not to take orders, but you possessed the gall to request an additional pecuniary advantage in lieu of the preferment.
“You made outrageous claims of studying the law instead of being a clergyman. I truly wished to believe you would use your Cambridge education and not be a disappointment to my esteemed father, but I knew in my heart that you would remain a blight on the world, blaming us all for your not being born to a fortune that you would have assuredly, by now, wasted away, instead of doing good in this world. You, as is customary for your woe-is-me personality, resigned all claim to assistance in the Church and accepted three thousand pounds in lieu of the living.”
“Four thousand all together!” Bingley exclaimed. “With a bit of sense that sum could last a person more than a decade while living comfortably.”
Wickham forced a laugh before he dared to ask, “How is Miss Darcy? I have missed her sweet company.”
Darcy reacted immediately, catching Wickham up by the lapels of his uniform. “If you think to speak my sister’s name again, I will beat you to within an inch of your life. Swallow your filthy lies or you may deal with me.”
Wickham put his hands up in a gesture of surrender as he backed away from Darcy. “I simply meant, unlike you, Miss Darcy always had an affectionate heart.”
“I know exactly what you meant,” Darcy said as he shoved Wickham hard. “Stay away from me. Away from ‘my’ family. ‘My’ family is not yours. It will never be yours!”
A crowd had gathered, interested in what could surely be a new on dits to share with others at this evening’s various entertainments.
Bingley quickly caught Mr. Wickham’s arm. “Come, Wickham, permit me to stand you a drink. There is a small inn not too far removed. Enough has been said. Let us find somewhere to recover our equanimity.”
Darcy watched as Mr. Wickham straightened the cut of his uniform. Pure hatred marked all of Wickham’s features, but the lieutenant looked around, suddenly realizing they had drawn an audience. “You are correct, Bingley,” Wickham said in those tones of companionship he often used when he meant to execute a ruse. “Though it is still a bit early, I could use a drink.”
Bingley looked at Darcy and shrugged his apology. His friend would keep company with Wickham to defuse the lieutenant’s and Darcy’s argument. “Then come along,” Bingley said with an abbreviated bow in Darcy’s direction.
Darcy glanced about him to view familiar and unfamiliar onlookers before he presented Bingley his gratitude with both a bow and a nod of acceptance. With a tug of his jacket to straighten it, Darcy bent to pick up his cane, which he did not recall dropping and turned in the direction of his home.