Chapter I #2
“What happened, Darcy? I know you advise Bingley, but I struggle to understand how a lady of Miss Bennet’s quality could have a sister so deficient as you suggest.”
“Miss Bennet is not deficient,” said Darcy with a sigh. “Miss Bingley and her sister were concerned that she was not a woman of society possessing a stupendous dowry, but my concern lay in her interest in him and her family.”
Darcy explained his actions, knowing there was no reason to withhold anything.
He also recited what Miss Bennet had told him, hoping that his cousin could give him some perspective on the matter.
Of Wickham’s part in all this, he said nothing—Fitzwilliam despised Wickham and would think of nothing else if he heard the libertine’s name, and Darcy had not decided yet what—if anything—he should do about George Wickham.
When he finished, Fitzwilliam considered before speaking.
“Well, it appears you perhaps were a little officious, though given Bingley’s character, your concern was not unwarranted.
I cannot know the particulars, of course, except for what you have told me.
If Bingley’s interest in Miss Bennet were true, then Miss Elizabeth has some justification for her anger.
“I am surprised you misjudged her. It was not half an hour after I made her acquaintance that I understood Miss Bennet was no ordinary young lady impressed with wealth and status. If her sister is of the same quality, I cannot think she is deficient in this respect.”
Darcy grimaced, but he did not shrink away. “In my defense, I can only say that I seem to have misjudged her. Given her mother’s behavior and Miss Bennet’s general reticence, I cannot but think my misapprehension was understandable.”
“The question is what you mean to do about it.”
It was a question for which Darcy had no immediate answer, but one he thought about for the rest of the journey back to London.
Though he did not want to consider the mortification attendant on such a confession, Miss Elizabeth’s words stuck with him.
Did Bingley not deserve to know of his misjudgment, to follow his inclination?
Darcy did not even consider the notion that Miss Bennet had dissembled, for he had the firmest belief in her integrity.
But the question continued to haunt him, and he yet had no notion of how to proceed.
AFTER SEVERAL DAYS, Elizabeth decided she needed outside counsel.
The contents of Mr. Darcy’s letter were a complete surprise, such that she could make no sense of it.
If she believed Mr. Darcy, his actions, though meddlesome, were understandable, though she still lamented Jane’s low spirits.
The bigger question in Elizabeth’s mind was the matter of Mr. Wickham, for he was the obvious danger, if what Mr. Darcy said of him was true.
Elizabeth was not blind to the rapid alteration of her opinions.
In some respects, it was astonishing that her perspective had changed so quickly.
Though she wanted to discount his account and forget she’d ever received his letter, something would not permit her to set it aside. It was a warning she could not ignore.
As she could not tell her friend about her meeting with Mr. Darcy, to say nothing of the letter, she framed her knowledge as a warning from Colonel Fitzwilliam, saying nothing of Georgiana Darcy, but laying the matter of his history with Mr. Wickham before Charlotte, curious what she would say.
Charlotte’s gravity as she listened to Elizabeth’s account spoke to her understanding of its seriousness.
When Elizabeth fell silent, Charlotte did not speak at once, her thoughts turned inward.
“That is interesting, Lizzy,” said Charlotte at length. “What do you make of it?”
“It is far from what I thought of either man,” confessed Elizabeth. “While part of me wishes to believe Mr. Wickham is as he portrayed, I cannot discount this new information, for Mr. Wickham’s behavior may confirm it.”
Charlotte regarded her, expression unreadable. “What do you mean?”
Thinking, Elizabeth said the first thing she remembered. “Mr. Wickham informed me of his past with Mr. Darcy. Though no such notion occurred to me then, now I wonder at the ease with which he spoke of it to a woman with whom he was not at all acquainted.”
“Yes, that is a consideration,” mused Charlotte.
Then her friend sighed and fixed her with affection.
“Elizabeth, I apologize, my friend, but you are often quick to judge, and while I believe that serves you in good stead, at times it can trip you. My opinion of Mr. Wickham has never been so positive as your own, so this news is not so much of a shock. My question to you, as you are better acquainted with him, is whether Mr. Darcy’s charges appear borne out in his behavior. ”
Elizabeth considered this. “Mr. Wickham did begin to pursue Mary King after he learned of her inheritance.”
“Yes, I recall that. At the time, you suggested a man must consider matters of prudence when making his choice.”
“That is true,” agreed Elizabeth, “but now that I consider it, it strikes me that his interest in her had been precipitous.”
“What of debts or womanizing? Are there any rumors in Meryton of such behavior?”
“I have heard of nothing.”
Charlotte nodded. “It seems to me, Lizzy, that wariness in this instance is nothing more than prudence. Colonel Fitzwilliam may be mistaken, but I do not think it is likely; he has nothing to gain—his concern for his cousin appears genuine.”
Elizabeth paled as a thought occurred to her. “An unscrupulous man may be injurious to the town’s economy, but the greater risk is to the ladies’ reputation. My family, in particular, is at risk given its composition.”
“Now you are considering it as you should,” agreed Charlotte. “The question is what you mean to do about it.”
“Of that I yet have no notion,” replied Elizabeth, still considering the increasingly tangled web. “It is clear that I must unmask him, but I do not yet know how.”
Charlotte’s eyes shone with affection. “I have no doubt you will think of something, Lizzy. Now that you have seen the danger, you cannot leave it be. By the time you are done with him, I expect Mr. Wickham will be in fear for his life.”
Elizabeth laughed, which was what Charlotte had intended. “I hope so, Charlotte. I have no liking for others who play me for a fool. Mr. Wickham will rue the day he crossed swords with me.”
“That is the Lizzy I know,” replied Charlotte. “Please remember you do not need to do it all alone. My father will not appreciate such a man as Mr. Wickham in the neighborhood, and your father, when he understands the danger, will not hesitate to act.”
Feeling guilty at doubting her father though she did, Elizabeth could not shake the notion that he would not be so eager. That was nonsensical, for her father, though indolent, was not an unintelligent man. To hide her sudden thoughts, Elizabeth nodded, trying to put Charlotte at ease.
“Do you wish to depart early?” Charlotte smiled. “I would not give your company away a second sooner than I must, but I understand if you believe it best to deal with Mr. Wickham at once.”
Elizabeth considered this, then shook her head.
“In truth, I see no occasion for that. Something might happen in the interim, but I must leave in only a few days anyway, so whatever damage he has caused has already been months in the making. If I delay now, perhaps I may consider what is best to be done.”
“That is for the best. I am glad you shall remain, Elizabeth. Come, let us speak of other matters—you can plan what you will do with Mr. Wickham later.”
Though she agreed, Elizabeth had little head for speaking of anything else; her thoughts consumed with Mr. Wickham and what she must do.
Elizabeth attempted to give as much of her attention to her friend as she could, but she was aware that it was a miserable failure.
When Mr. Collins entered the room and later at dinner, she was able to focus on his absurdities instead, which diverted her from her chaotic thoughts.
When Elizabeth went to her room for the night, she found her mind slipping to the thoughts that had held sway that afternoon.
The problem, she knew, was how to portray what she had learned in a way that would lead to Mr. Wickham’s unmasking.
Mr. Wickham, she thought with a wince, enjoyed an excellent reputation in the neighborhood, his genial manners and handsome mien enough to recommend him to them all.
Elizabeth’s approbation had also lent him some validity, though Elizabeth had never shared his charges against Mr. Darcy with anyone other than Jane.
It would be difficult, she thought, for she could not just return home and denounce him in the middle of Meryton’s square.
It would be possible to canvass the merchants to learn if he had debts, but even that was not easy, for if Mr. Wickham had refrained, she would look silly, and the man’s other vices would become nearly impervious to inquiry unless he somehow made a mistake.
The matter would require more subtlety. A few whispers in the right ears, a few banal comments, and her neighbors would soon understand the sort of man they had welcomed into their midst. Perhaps she could even question the officers about the extent of Mr. Wickham’s gaming debts—not openly, of course, just enough to ensure they compared notes.
And if Mr. Wickham discovered what she was doing?
That was possible, Elizabeth thought with a grimace, for she did not suppose the man was blind or stupid, only depraved.
If he did, there would be little enough he could do to prevent her from exposing him.
Elizabeth wished to ensure he paid for his misdeeds, but she supposed the more important point was to protect her sisters and the other ladies of the neighborhood.
With that decided, Elizabeth changed into her nightgown and eased into bed, the spring air pleasant that night.
Sleep did not come, for her thoughts were too active to permit it, though this time they turned in another direction.
Instead of dwelling on Mr. Wickham and what she would do when she returned home, her mind wandered back to Mr. Darcy.
If the gentleman was correct, and she did not doubt that at least in the matter of Mr. Wickham he was, then Elizabeth had misjudged him.
Oh, his behavior in Hertfordshire was still abominable and his advice to Mr. Bingley misguided, but for the first time, the notion that the gentleman had some redeeming qualities confronted Elizabeth.
The fury she had felt when she had learned of his interference and listened to his repulsive proposal was still there, but it had become a pale echo of what it had been before.
In its place rose the wonder that Mr. Darcy had felt enough for her to reject all his rational scruples, enough to wish to propose to her.
For some time, Elizabeth lay in bed, wondering if she had somehow missed the signs of his regard.
Though she considered it at length, the only symptom she could recall of Mr. Darcy’s regard was the way he had looked at her to excess.
It seemed her opinion that he looked at her to criticize was revealed as the absurdity that it was.
Elizabeth wondered how she could ever have thought such a thing.
Where did that leave her? Regretting the heat in her response, but not the substance.
There were no justifications she could have used to allow her to accept Mr. Darcy, for everything from her feelings to his behavior forbade it.
However, she should have exercised temperance rather than losing her temper as she had.
Returned incivility portrayed no one to good advantage, after all.
The words that she had thrown at Mr. Darcy, the suggestion that he should make amends by reuniting Mr. Bingley and Jane was one Elizabeth could not help but look back on with hope.
It was possible the gentleman would ignore her—had the question appeared only days before the event, she would have asserted that it was certain.
Now, however, she could not help but wonder.
There was no question about whether to tell Jane—though she knew she must explain something of the matter, she would not give her sister hope that may prove false.
At length, Elizabeth turned over and pressed her head into the pillow, willing her thoughts to settle so she could sleep. It was not many more minutes before she found rest, though her dreams were plagued by handsome gentlemen who alternately teased and insulted her.