Safe Harbour & Clear Sight
The morning at Pemberley was clear and mild, the lawns bright after recent rain. Darcy walked with Bingley along the gravel path beside the south terrace, their conversation turning once more to the question of houses.
“I have nearly abandoned the idea of looking in the south,” Bingley said with cheerful animation. “Derbyshire answers every purpose very well, and the neighbourhood about Lambton grows more agreeable the longer I remain in it.”
Darcy glanced at him with faint amusement.
“You have inspected a remarkable number of houses in the past week.”
“One must examine several before choosing properly,” Bingley replied easily. “I cannot imagine a more agreeable situation. The country is beautiful, the society pleasant, and there are several houses within a convenient distance.”
During the past week Bingley had inspected, or proposed to inspect, half the vacant properties in the district.
“A few have already been suggested to me,” Bingley continued. “One or two cannot be viewed for some weeks yet, which is rather unfortunate. But there is another that may become available in September. I am told it is a very respectable house indeed.”
Darcy suspected the architecture interested him rather less than the situation.
“You appear determined to remain among us,” he said.
“If I can find a house that suits, why should I not? I have grown exceedingly fond of the neighbourhood.”
Darcy did not dispute the point. Indeed, Bingley’s attachment to the district appeared to have very little to do with its houses and very much to do with the inhabitants of one particular cottage near Lambton.
“And my sisters will not complain at being your neighbours.” Bingley said.
Darcy smiled slightly.
“I suspect they will find the arrangement very agreeable.”
Bingley glanced at him with good-humoured understanding.
“I hope they may. Though I must first secure a house worthy of such distinguished neighbours.”
Darcy made no immediate reply.
“Have you fixed upon any one in particular?” he asked.
“Not yet. Several have been recommended to me, though they cannot be viewed immediately. The owners are not presently in residence.”
He paused a moment before adding,
“But the house that may become available in September is said to be particularly well situated.”
They had reached the turn of the path that led toward the stables when a footman approached across the lawn.
“Mrs Reynolds presents her compliments, sir,” he said to Darcy, “and asks whether the basket prepared for the cottage is to be sent this morning.”
Darcy paused.
“Yes. It was meant to go earlier.”
Bingley looked interested.
“For Ivy Cottage?”
“For Mrs Bennet and her daughters,” Darcy replied. “Mrs Reynolds insists upon supplying them with whatever the garden presently affords.”
“In that case,” Bingley said readily, “we ought to deliver it ourselves. It would spare the footman a journey.”
Darcy regarded him for a moment.
“I have no objection,” he said at last.
Bingley’s satisfaction was immediate.
The basket was soon produced, and a few minutes later they were walking toward the carriage with Mrs Reynolds’ offering secured within it.
Darcy suspected that the produce of Pemberley’s kitchen garden had rarely travelled to Lambton with greater enthusiasm.
He lifted the cloth briefly. The contents were not confined to the produce of the garden.
There were several early peaches, a small pot of preserves, and a loaf from the morning’s baking.
“That will do very well,” Darcy said, replacing the cover.
Bingley, who had been observing the inspection with interest, smiled.
The carriage drew up before the cottage a short while later. The morning remained fine, and the small garden before the house was bright with late summer colour.
Miss Bennet received them with easy warmth. Their visits had become frequent enough that their arrival excited no particular surprise.
Bingley presented Mrs Reynolds’s basket with great satisfaction.
“I must beg you to accept a small offering from Pemberley,” he said. “Mrs Reynolds insisted it should be sent, though I suspect she will hold me responsible if anything has been forgotten.”
Miss Bennet thanked him with quiet pleasure and directed that it be taken inside.
Their conversation soon turned, as it often did of late, to the neighbourhood.
Bingley spoke again of the houses he had lately been considering.
“I begin to think there may be several very tolerable situations within a short distance,” he said. “Though I have not yet determined upon any one of them.”
Miss Bennet listened with interest.
“I imagine the choice cannot be easy,” she said.
“Not entirely,” Bingley replied. “One or two have been recommended to me, though they cannot be viewed immediately. Another may become available in September.”
He glanced toward her with an air of studied casualness.
“I begin to think it would be very pleasant to settle in the neighbourhood for some time.”
Miss Bennet coloured slightly but maintained her usual composure.
“I should think Derbyshire offers many advantages.”
Darcy, who had taken a seat near the window, listened without interrupting. Bingley spoke with admirable ease, yet his enthusiasm for the district had grown remarkably steady of late, and Darcy doubted that its attractions could be explained by scenery alone.
After some further conversation respecting the neighbourhood, Miss Bennet excused herself briefly and returned with a letter in her hand.
“I had almost forgotten,” she said. “I received a letter from my sister, Elizabeth yesterday.”
Bingley expressed immediate interest.
“Miss Elizabeth writes from Ramsgate, does she not? I hope she finds the sea air agreeable.”
“Very much so,” Miss Bennet replied. “She describes the place as lively and the weather generally favourable.”
She glanced down at the page again before continuing.
“She mentioned also that a gentleman known to Georgiana has lately appeared there—Mr Wickham.”
Darcy, who had been listening with quiet attention, became suddenly more alert.
“Wickham?” he said.
Miss Bennet looked up.
“Yes. Elizabeth writes that he is presently in Ramsgate. And has been calling on them repeatedly.”
She hesitated slightly before adding,
“She wondered whether you might happen to know his present circumstances, as he spoke of having formerly known your family.”
Darcy’s expression changed at once.
“Mr Wickham is in Ramsgate?” he repeated.
Jane inclined her head.
“So my sister writes.”
Darcy was silent a moment before speaking again.
“How long has he been there?”
“I cannot say precisely,” Miss Bennet replied. “Elizabeth only mentions that he has been there some weeks, and that he has lately made their acquaintance.”
Darcy’s expression did not change, but his attention sharpened.
“He has been admitted to the house?”
Miss Bennet hesitated slightly.
“Yes. Elizabeth writes that he has called several times.”
Darcy was silent a moment.
“Repeatedly,” he said, as if to himself.
Miss Bennet watched him with growing concern.
“Mr Darcy—has something happened?”
Darcy turned toward her.
“Mr Wickham is not a man I would wish my sister to know again,” he said, with controlled restraint. “I must go to Ramsgate without delay.”
Miss Bennet stood at once.
“I am sorry to give you uneasiness—”
“You have done me a service in speaking of it,” Darcy returned. “I am obliged to you.”
He bowed.
“You will forgive me. I must leave you immediately.”
And with that he left the cottage, his mind already engaged in calculation.
No time must be lost. The distance to Ramsgate was considerable; the carriage would be the faster conveyance.
Wickham’s presence there could not be accidental. That he had gained admittance to the house was enough to justify immediate concern. Whatever his object, Darcy would not allow him the opportunity to pursue it.
Behind him he heard Bingley offer a hasty apology to Miss Bennet before following in pursuit.
Darcy did not pause until they had reached the carriage.
“To Pemberley,” he said briefly.
The order was obeyed at once. Neither spoke during the drive. Bingley, though full of questions, saw that Darcy’s thoughts were wholly engaged.
“I do not like this,” Bingley said at last. “You think there is danger?”
“I cannot be certain,” Darcy replied. “But I will not risk delay.”
“Then I go with you.”
Darcy shook his head.
“You would oblige me more by remaining at Pemberley. If Miss Bennet should receive further intelligence, it must be directed somewhere certain. I shall bring my sister and her companions away from Ramsgate without delay.”
Bingley hesitated, then inclined his head.
“You are right.”
They arrived at Pemberley without delay. Darcy was out of the carriage almost before it had come to a full stop.
Mrs Reynolds met him in the hall.
“I travel immediately,” he said. “Have fresh horses made ready. I leave again within the quarter hour.”
She curtsied and turned at once to give the necessary orders.
“Send to Fletcher,” Darcy added. “He is to prepare for travel without delay.”
The house, accustomed to his direction, moved at once.
Within minutes Darcy was again at the door. Everything was prepared.
Bingley remained in the hall as he passed.
Darcy inclined his head once in acknowledgment.
He entered the carriage without further delay.
Moments later, it was upon the road to Ramsgate.
Ramsgate lay quiet beneath the afternoon light, the sea calm and the harbour busy with its usual motion. Nothing in the scene suggested urgency.
Darcy’s impatience increased.
The carriage stopped before the house. Before the servant could properly assist him, Darcy had already descended.
The door was opened by Mrs Allen, who started with visible pleasure. Within, all appeared composed.
“Mr Darcy!—we did not expect you so soon, sir.”
“The ladies?”
“They are but just gone out, sir—toward the harbour.”
Darcy did not hesitate.
“Have the carriage brought round.”
He would not wait.
The harbour was lively with movement, the afternoon light bright upon the water. Families walked along the parade, and several small vessels lay at anchor beyond.
Darcy’s eye moved quickly over the scene.
He saw them before they saw him.
Elizabeth walked a little apart, her manner composed. Georgiana was beside her, listening attentively. Miss Mary walked with a book in hand, while Miss Catherine moved restlessly between them.
Nothing in their appearance suggested alarm.
Darcy watched a moment longer.
If Wickham had attempted anything, it had not succeeded.
He stepped forward.
Georgiana’s attention had been fixed upon the water, but as they turned along the path her step faltered.
She stopped.
“Brother—”
The word escaped her before she could check it.
Elizabeth turned at once.
Darcy was already approaching.
Georgiana moved toward him without hesitation, the composure she had so carefully maintained giving way at last.
“You are come,” she said, her voice low but unsteady.
Darcy took her hand.
“I am.”
He looked at her closely, as if to assure himself.
“You are well?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Quite well.”
Georgiana spoke quickly, her relief overcoming her usual reserve.
“You must not be alarmed—we have been very well—Mr Wickham—”
Darcy listened only in part.
His attention had already shifted.
Elizabeth stood a little apart, her expression composed, her eyes fixed upon him.
There was no confusion in her manner, nor any trace of alarm. Only understanding.
Darcy held her gaze.
Whatever Wickham had intended, it had not prevailed.
Georgiana’s voice faltered as she followed his look.
Elizabeth inclined her head slightly.
Darcy released his sister’s hand.
They walked a little apart from the others, the sound of the harbour soft behind them.
“You were right to come,” Elizabeth said quietly. “Though I believe the matter is already at an end.”
Darcy looked at her with intent attention.
“Mr Wickham has been attentive to Georgiana,” she continued. “Too attentive.”
Darcy’s expression darkened.
“And Mrs Younge?”
Elizabeth met his gaze.
“She has not been what she appears.”
He was silent a moment.
“You suspected this?”
“I thought it necessary to observe more closely.”
Darcy inclined his head slightly.
“And now?”
“Now I believe Georgiana sees him more clearly.”
Georgiana approached them then, her composure returned, though her colour was still heightened.
“I hope I did not interrupt,” she said, looking from one to the other.
Darcy turned to her at once.
“You never interrupt me.”
She hesitated a moment before continuing.
“I believe I must thank Elizabeth,” she said quietly. “She has shown me what I ought to have seen sooner.”
Darcy’s expression sharpened.
Georgiana met his look.
“I was mistaken in Mr Wickham.”
There was no distress in her manner now, only steadiness.
Darcy’s gaze rested upon his sister a moment longer before returning to Elizabeth.
“Where is he now?”
“He called this morning,” Elizabeth replied. “But he is not expected again.”
Darcy understood at once.
“And Mrs Younge?”
“She has been less constant in her attendance,” Elizabeth said. “I do not think she will remain.”
Georgiana spoke quietly.
“I would prefer that she does not.”
Darcy inclined his head.
“It shall be arranged.”