Chapter 8
“Ithought I told you to stay away from her!!”
“I do not take orders from you, woman.”
The Wickhams’ angry words were heard by all who stood outside Longbourn’s door. Mr Darcy’s eyes rested solely upon Elizabeth, who he could very well see was flooded with embarrassment by all that was taking place within. Concerned by this display of marital strife occurring within her own home, Darcy could only feel that somehow he was the cause of it all.
“Um, well, perhaps we ought not to intrude upon your family today, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr Bingley ventured, his demeanour hesitant.
“But I promised sweet Miss Bennet I would visit today, Charles! What would she think if she knew we had arrived and then departed so quickly!” Miss Bingley scolded, though Darcy could see she looked positively giddy at the evidence of such vulgarity. “After all, the Bennets are all that is genteel, are they not?” she asked her brother before continuing with a pointed look. “They could never truly give us, their dear friends, any cause for embarrassment. I am sure Miss Eliza would agree that there is no cause to fear any lack of decorum in her home. Is that not right?”
Before Elizabeth could even respond to such a speech, Miss Bingley had taken her brother’s arm and steered him towards the parlour. Left alone with Elizabeth, Darcy stopped her before she could follow the others.
“Miss Elizabeth, I am?—”
“I do not think there is much that can be said after all you have witnessed.”
Her humiliation over the morning’s events was plain to see, as was her inclination to retreat into the house. Though he desired to stay in her presence unattended, he did not want to disconcert her unduly. “I only wished to see you are well. You seemed distressed before the altercation occurred, and I-I wanted to offer my assistance, should you require it.”
A small flickering of hope seemed to kindle in her expressive eyes before they shuttered. “Indeed, I am well. Truly—I merely expressed my displeasure towards my new brother this morning and my disclosures seem to have vexed him somewhat.” His frown must have caught her notice, for she sought to alleviate his concern with a mischievous grin. “Perhaps I am partly to blame for what occurred just now, but I cannot feel any true remorse. Disguise, would you not agree, is abhorrent?”
Darcy’s lips twitched, a slight smile creeping across his visage. “Just so, madam.” Offering his arm, the pair crossed under the front portico to brave what lay beyond.
All in all, the scene in Longbourn’s parlour was better than Darcy had expected, though it was clear tensions remained high. The fact that order had been restored amongst the various inhabitants was clearly owed to the presence of Mr Bennet, who sat in a stiff, high-backed chair, glaring quite pointedly at his son-in-law. Darcy was slightly surprised the patriarch had troubled himself to intervene, yet he supposed even the most indolent father would take umbrage at any man who dared to speak to one of his daughters in the fashion Wickham had done only moments before.
That the argument had caused a degree of alarm in most of the family present could not be doubted. Miss Bennet’s usually serene calm had deserted her, leaving her surprisingly more loquacious than Darcy had ever before seen. She chattered away in a rather timorous fashion to both of the guests, and Miss Bingley for once could do naught but let her speak, as astonished as anyone by the behaviour of the eldest Bennet daughter. Miss Mary and Miss Catherine were both glancing back and forth between the Wickhams, one in disapproving vexation and the other in confusion. Mrs Bennet, too, it seemed could not understand what had just transpired, though her preoccupation was focused solely on her son-in-law. The gentleman in question sat as far from his wife as was possible in the somewhat crowded drawing room, staring pointedly out the window and ignoring the occupants within. Mrs Wickham sat sullenly on the sofa next to her mother, though Darcy could not like the gleam of anger in her eyes as she watched Elizabeth enter the room.
“Ah, Lizzy, so good of you to join us! And you as well, Mr Darcy.” Mr Bennet nodded his head in greeting, to which Darcy gave a polite bow.
Recalled to her duties as hostess, Mrs Bennet echoed her husband’s greeting. “Why yes, it is indeed a pleasure to welcome our neighbours from Netherfield again.” Turning to Mr Bingley she continued. “You know, I have not forgotten that you had promised to dine with us before your departure last year. We would be more than delighted to have both you and your sister for dinner later this week—in fact, you can name the day!” Mrs Bennet gave a cautious glance in Darcy’s direction. “Your friend is, of course, welcome to join us as well. I promise we set a fine table.”
“That is very kind, madam. I should be happy to dine with your family.”
At his response, Mrs Wickham huffed inelegantly, and for once, even Mrs Bennet chastised her. “Mind your manners—and stop slouching! It is most unbecoming of a married woman to slouch.”
“Yes, Mama,” Lydia conceded, though if her posture changed a whit, Darcy could not tell. “I did not mean to offend anyone. I suppose I am simply surprised to see Mr Darcy so much of late,” she drawled dully while she conducted a thorough inspection of her fingernails.
This utterance seemed to catch the attention of her husband, for Wickham’s gaze turned rapidly from the front lawn to his wife, his eyes filled with a gravity that was rare.
“Our guests have displayed a great fondness for the present company,” Mr Bennet quipped, with a displeased look at his youngest. “They pay us a noble compliment in abandoning their country pursuits for our front parlour—for what is hunting to tea, cakes, and fine conversation, eh?”
Not often flummoxed in company, for Darcy chiefly preferred observation to interacting with his fellow men, he could, however, quite readily admit that Elizabeth’s father was far too enigmatic for his liking. While he seemed to have detected a preference on Darcy’s part for his second eldest, Darcy could not determine if he looked upon such a possibility with approval or disdain. Was he speaking in earnest, or employing the subtle mockery that Darcy had witnessed on more than one occasion?
Bingley answered, his levity restored. “I can assure you that we are quite pleased to receive such affability! I can only shoot birds for so long. Undoubtedly, the company I find here is far preferable.”
As he turned to look upon Miss Bennet, Mrs Wickham rolled her eyes in a pronounced fashion as she said, “That is all well and good, I suppose, but what I meant to say earlier was that I am surprised to see Mr Darcy so soon after my wedding in London.”
An uneasy pause filled the room before Miss Catherine declared with sudden recognition, “You did mention that Mr Darcy attended your wedding! I thought you must have been joking!”
Mr Wickham’s face looked thunderous as he glared at his wife, while Mrs Bennet looked between Lydia and Darcy and stuttered, “But I-I thought you and Mr Wickham…that is…but—why were you at my daughter’s wedding?”
At that moment, Darcy wished the parlour floor would swallow him whole. He did not know where to look, though a brief glance at his friend confirmed Bingley’s wholehearted astonishment. Miss Bingley, however, looked both shocked and highly perturbed—her gaze shifting to Elizabeth in distaste.
Taking advantage of Darcy’s silence, Mrs Wickham continued in a blithe tone. “Oh, did you not know, Mama?”
“That is enough, Lydia!” Wickham hissed, anger clearly written upon his face.
Unbothered by her husband’s protests, Mrs Wickham proceeded to disclose that which Darcy had never meant to come to light. “Mr Darcy is the one who found us at the inn in London. I saw him often at Gracechurch Street in the days before my wedding, although I confess I know not what he was doing in Uncle Gardiner’s study at all hours of the day and night.”
Satisfied by the staggering silence that met her divulgence, Mrs Wickham sat back and eyed her husband with rebellious pleasure. The reactions to her story varied greatly across the room. Miss Bingley observed the Wickhams with open disgust, Bingley’s shock had only increased, and the rest of the Bennets looked upon Darcy with astonishment.
Darcy could scarcely take it all in, so consumed was he by the only person’s response who truly mattered. As he turned his head briefly to regard Elizabeth, he could see her eyes were closed, though the mortification upon her countenance was there all the same.
Ashen-faced, Mr Bennet queried, “It was not my brother Gardiner who paid this man’s debts and brought about the marriage, was it? It—it was you?”
Darcy could do no more than give a brief, very stiff nod.
“But why? Why, sir? Why would you do this extraordinary thing? Our family can be nothing to you.”
Though he tried, Darcy could not help but look at Elizabeth, only to find that she too was watching him expectantly, her brilliant eyes locking on his. Struggle as he might, his endeavour to hide his emotions from her failed, comprehension dawning as she gasped, her hand lifting to cover her mouth. Her eyes began to well with tears. Darcy could not look away from her obvious anguish.
What possible explanation could he give? Perhaps explaining his guilt over the misdeeds of his father’s godson, compounded by his lack of warning when the reprobate first entered Meryton would be enough to satisfy Mr Bennet’s request, but the half-truth stuck in Darcy’s mouth before he could even utter it. Though a satisfactory reason on its own, Darcy knew that ever since encountering a distraught Elizabeth at the inn at Lambton, any action he had taken regarding the Wickhams had been solely and unreservedly for her. To tell anything less, would be a falsehood, and he could not bring himself to mar their acquaintance any further by denying his continued love for her.
When Mr Bennet looked as though he would press for a response, Darcy rose from his chair. “Pray excuse me, I fear I cannot give you the answers you seek. I beg your pardon, but I must leave. Good day to you all.”
Barely recalling what he said to the butler as he took his greatcoat and hat, Darcy fled the house and made his way towards the stable. The young groom, having been caught by surprise, scrambled to ready one of the carriage horses for Darcy as the gentleman began forming rapid plans for his departure from the area.
For how could he stay? The despair in Elizabeth’s eyes as the truth was revealed was simply too painful for Darcy to endure.
He mounted Bingley’s horse, promising the groom to return the beast with one of Bingley’s men after his arrival at Netherfield, and turned towards the main drive, girding himself for a hard ride to calm his roiling thoughts. But before he could dash out of Longbourn’s main gate, a slight figure ran out of the house and placed herself boldly in his path.