Chapter 9
The service felt never-ending. Darcy barely refrained from frequently checking the timepiece he carried in his waistcoat pocket.
Miss Elizabeth sat with her family in the second pew from the front. He sat in Bingley’s box where three ostrich feathers sticking up from Miss Bingley’s hat obstructed his view. If he leaned back, he could see her. Twice, he caught her silently correcting her younger sister when Miss Lydia peered over her shoulder to wave at the officers sitting in the back rows. Poor Miss Elizabeth! Miss Lydia was an officious little imbecile. It would have been better for the older Bennet girls if the younger ones were still in the nursery. It was obvious that they suffered from a lack of proper training.
How had Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth turned out so well? Personalities of siblings often differed. Richard’s older brother, the viscount, was a self-absorbed, debauched wastrel who would likely bankrupt Matlock within a decade or less. He was indulged as heir since his birth. By the time he reached adulthood, when his parents recognized their error, it was too late. They were far stricter with their younger son.
Darcy’s father had always been unyielding with him. There were twelve years between him and Georgiana. She was in the beginning of her second year when he went away to Eton. By the time he left Cambridge, he barely knew the girl. Raised by governesses, she was everything proper…well, until Wickham at Ramsgate.
Barely keeping from shuddering, Darcy forced himself to think of something else. He sought her again, this time catching Miss Elizabeth looking over her shoulder directly at him. Glancing away quickly, he pondered his next step.
Bingley leaned into him, whispering, “I think it providential that the lesson today is about loving our neighbor. For I believe I am already well on my way to doing just that.” Tilting his forehead in the direction of Miss Bennet,
Darcy longed to scoff. “You have known her for how long?”
Bingley grinned. “Long enough.”
Why is Mr. Darcy staring at me? Was he trying to make her uncomfortable? If so, he succeeded in his task.
Elizabeth’s mind returned to the crushing revelations of the morning. She could do nothing about her parents, nor did she have any power over her sisters. Elizabeth was determined to improve herself. Therefore, she would begin with Mr. Darcy since he was close friends with his cousin. If she could be nice to the master of Pemberley, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could be empathetic with anyone.
Her new purpose was to give no one reason for complaint against her. She would rise above harmful speech about her family. She would improve her reputation.
When the sermon ended, her resolve lasted until she stepped outside the chapel door right behind the Bingley party, including Mr. Darcy. There, Lydia and Kitty were standing with three officers. Elizabeth could not keep from overhearing Lydia’s loud pronouncement.
“La, Mr. Chamberlayne, is this not the perfect chapel in which to be married? If only Mr. Wickham were here. I could be by his side as his bride this morning and warming his bed this evening.”
Kitty giggled.
Oh, good heavens! Mortified that the Bingley party likely heard and were disgusted that Lydia made such a comment in public, Elizabeth looked to her parents for help. Seeing her mother fussing over Jane, pushing her toward Mr. Bingley before leaving to gossip with Lady Lucas, Elizabeth knew she would be of no assistance. Her father rolled his eyes at his youngest daughter. Elizabeth’s anger boiled. Breathing deeply, Elizabeth marched over to her sisters.
Pinching Lydia in the soft skin behind her upper arm until she yelped, she said, her tone as composed as possible, “I beg your pardon, gentlemen. My sisters are needed at Longbourn. Good day to you.”
“Wait! Who needs us? Nobody, that’s who,” Lydia whined, and Kitty echoed each syllable. It mattered not. Neither had the strength to overcome Elizabeth’s determination.
Grabbing their wrists, she pulled them toward her father. When she was close enough that nobody could overhear, she hissed, “You are singularly responsible for the conduct of these children. They are yours to train to be proper ladies who can appear in public without embarrassing the family. Do something!”
He snorted. “Who are you to tell me how to raise these girls? They are uncontrollable.”
“Why is that?” She retorted without giving an inch. “You do as you must, Papa. However much I love my sisters, they are not my responsibility. They are yours.”
Letting go of Kitty and Lydia, she brushed her palms together as if washing them off. “Your view of your daughters is incorrect, for there have been many times when both Kitty and Lydia have shown extraordinary compassion to others. They act foolishly and carelessly because they lack guidance. Do something.”
Without waiting for his reaction, she walked away from him toward where Jane stood with their good friend, Charlotte Lucas. Jane’s face was pale. Charlotte’s was as red as a tomato. Refusing to let her younger sister’s poor conduct continue to affect her, Elizabeth lifted her chin.
“You are looking well, Charlotte. I do believe that shade of blue brings out the color of your eyes, dear friend. Do you not agree, Jane?”
“I surely do.” Jane’s inherent kindness and honesty gave Charlotte confidence as she accepted that Elizabeth wholeheartedly meant what she said.
Charlotte stepped away to attend to her mother, who was frantically waving for her eldest daughter’s immediate presence just as Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley approached. Lady Lucas likely wanted to share the latest tittle-tattle she heard from Francine Bennet.
Elizabeth easily noted from her sour expression how displeased Miss Caroline Bingley was that Mr. Darcy was in company with the Bennets. While Jane was ill at Netherfield Park, Miss Bingley’s goal was clear. She would become whatever and whomever Mr. Darcy desired to capture his attention. From Elizabeth’s point of view, Miss Bingley’s efforts met with little success.
Mr. Bingley and Jane immediately began speaking about the upcoming ball. In truth, Elizabeth was as eager as they were to open the dance with Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Mr. Darcy asked, “I do not see Mrs. Hammond here today. Is she well?”
“How kind of you to ask, sir. One of her neighbors needed help with an ill child. The mother is expecting her sister to arrive tomorrow from London. This will allow Mrs. Hammond to be well-rested for the ball.”
“Very good. I, too, am looking forward to being in her company.”
Pausing to see if there was anything else he wanted to add, Elizabeth noticed his fingers flex. Something unnerved him.
Keeping in mind her vow to improve her circumstances if possible, she was determined to be pleasant. “Sir, you have a discerning eye. The ribbon you chose for her, when placed against the lace, is exquisite. Tell me, do you select accessories for your sister too?”
He chuckled. “Not at all. I asked Georgiana for her help. You admire her discerning eye. I have no idea of how to please a woman worthy of being pleased when it comes to ribbons and bows.”
“Mr. Wickham said that he has difficulty judging whether a color is green or red when they are put alongside each other. Do you have the same challenge?”
When Mr. Darcy inhaled sharply, Elizabeth realized that this was not the first time he had reacted negatively at the officer’s mention. “I beg your pardon if my question made you uncomfortable, sir. Pray, disregard my wild talk.”
“No, no,” he reassured her. “Wickham is the subject I wished to discuss with you. If I might have a moment? Perhaps if we stroll to the carriages and back?”
“Certainly.” This time, he did not offer his arm.
They were well away from the others before he spoke.
“As I mentioned, George Wickham has long been known by me. At one time, we were as close as could be. Now, we are complete opposites. Miss Elizabeth, it pains me to admit that he would not be considered a gentleman by anyone aware of his actions.”
“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth was stunned by his blunt speech. “You are certain of this?”
Without hesitation, he replied, “I am.”
“Please understand that I am not questioning your character, but do you have proof?”
“In abundance.”
Then it was as Mrs. Hammond said. Mr. Wickham was not to be trusted. Out of a sense of fairness, she said, “I should tell you that he gave an unfavorable report of you once he discovered you were here.”
“Of this, I do not doubt. Was it the story where I denied him a living that my father promised him or that I cheated on my exams at university and placed the blame on him?”
Elizabeth noted how his shoulders dropped in resignation. She knew then that he must have needed to defend himself against Mr. Wickham’s charges before. Perhaps often.
“The living.” Before he could explain further, she said, “Sir, the simple fact that he has already harmed you tells me more than words what his true nature is. I erred grievously in listening to him. Therefore, I beg your forgiveness. I judged you harshly based on his words. For that, I am grieved.”
“Do not be. If he told you that my own father loved him more than he did me, he was not wrong.” Immediately after uttering those words, he bit his lip and closed his eyes.
She gasped, stunned by his admission. Her father’s insults from that morning still festered. That he was made to feel the same by his own father was singularly appalling. How unexpected to have this in common.
Elizabeth peered up at him. His eyes brimmed with the same hurt she felt. Without a doubt, this newly revealed aspect of his character softened her opinion of him.
She inherently knew then that he regretted saying something so personal to her. Likely, he shared little with anyone.
“I shall keep your final comment to myself, Mr. Darcy.”
“I would appreciate that, Miss Elizabeth.”
“What I will do is speak with my father about the dangers of Mr. Wickham. Mrs. Hammond questioned his reasons for confiding privileged information with me upon short acquaintance. I was gullible. In the future, I will exert more caution.”
He nodded. “Miss Elizabeth, should Wickham insist on standing up with you, feel free to refuse since I will make myself available to claim the set if you do not mind. I have no doubt that Richard would do so as well.”
She studied him carefully before she replied. “I thank you, sir. It would be my pleasure.”
As she walked away, Elizabeth realized that she had spoken the truth. If she could not dance with the colonel, she would not mind dancing with Mr. Darcy only if it meant that she could refuse Mr. Wickham.
Her head was spinning at how quickly and thoroughly her views changed. First, her father, then Mr. Wickham, and lastly, Mr. Darcy. Not for the first time that day, she wondered if she ever really knew herself or if she even knew anything at all.