Chapter 2 #3
And no matter how painful the revelation might be, he slowly became selfishly content with the situation as it gave him time to deal with his personal struggles and immerse himself in solitude.
So deep was Darcy in his musings, that he ignored the length of his ramble. It was unsafe to be alone in the middle of the park at that time of night, but he did not mind. He slowly turned back, concluding that the silence, the dark, and the isolation suited him.
It was after midnight when he finally entered his house. He dismissed the doorman for the night and retired to his apartment. His valet was waiting, hurrying to greet him.
“You may go to bed, Watts. I shall ring for you in the morning when I need you.”
“As you wish, sir. I just want to inform you that Mr. Clayton came to talk to you. He said he had some urgent news that could not wait until morning. I took the liberty of hosting him in one of the guest rooms until your arrival. What should I do with him?”
Darcy was taken by complete surprise and hesitated to offer an answer.
He was already tired and spent by his own emotions, but he knew he would not be able to rest. Besides, his curiosity was stronger than the impropriety of the hour, even more so as he could guess the subject of the extraordinary news.
“Please bring him here; I will see what he has to say and be done with this so we can all find some rest.”
Several minutes later, as Darcy removed his coat and filled a glass with brandy, Watts brought in a gentleman of middle age, wearing on his face the signs of exhaustion. He apologised several times for intruding at such a late hour until Darcy stopped him by offering a drink and a seat.
“I thank you, sir; I have some important news, and I wished to deliver it without delay.”
“It must be something most extraordinary since you could not wait until tomorrow morning. News that is shared at midnight would worry anyone.”
“Sir, you are paying me to inform you about anything uncommon related to George Wickham, and that is what I am doing,” Mr. Clayton answered, stepping forward as if to disclose a secret.
“Yes, but you usually send me the reports express. What could be worth discussing at midnight? What did the scoundrel do this time?”
“A day ago, Mr. Wickham abandoned his regiment —he eloped,” said Mr. Clayton solemnly.
Darcy’s eyebrows rose in puzzlement.
“Eloped? Should you not say that he deserted? I cannot say I am surprised. Since he was unworthy of any other honourable occupation, it was expected he would not excel in the militia. What else?”
“His elopement brought some great disturbance among the other officers. Colonel Forster takes personal responsibility in finding a reasonable resolution.”
“I can well understand the colonel’s anger; such an incident might affect the reputation of the entire regiment. Fortunately, Wickham’s new wretchedness has little effect on us.”
Darcy was more curious than truly interested.
Since Wickham’s attempt to deceive Georgiana, Darcy had done everything in his power to keep track of his steps.
He could not forget what happened when he neglected Wickham’s life and plans for three years.
It had been his fault, and Darcy was determined never to repeat it.
“Do you have suspicions about his new location? I would feel more at peace if I know where he is.”
“I have, sir. He and the young lady are staying at the —— Inn.”
“Young lady?” The late hour, the second glass of wine, and his enduring fatigue made Darcy’s mind less keen than usual.
“Yes, sir. The young lady with whom he eloped. She was staying with the colonel’s wife. A Miss Bennet from Hertfordshire.”
Darcy looked at the man, narrowing his eyes to better see him.
He heard the words, but his mind rejected their meaning.
He must have heard wrongly; surely, this was not possible.
It must have been either the most pathetic joke or an absurd misunderstanding.
He took a seat, then rose and opened the window widely; the room had become so warm that he could not breathe.
“Are you sure about the name? Is it absolutely certain? Who was the source of your information? This is not something to be easily discussed; a mere mistake might ruin a young woman and her family’s life forever.”
Darcy’s voice turned colder and sharper with every word, and Mr. Clayton took a step back, suddenly worried that he upset the gentleman somehow. He cleared his voice.
“Yes, sir…the young lady is the daughter of a gentleman from Hertfordshire. Colonel Forster already travelled there to inform the family himself. It is said that the young lady followed him from Meryton, a small town where her family lives. It seems they had an attachment when the regiment was camped in Meryton.”
Darcy listened as if in a nightmare. Each sound, each word was as a knife cut to his head and heart.
The bad dream turned into a frightening reality.
He had no doubt about which “Miss Bennet” the man meant.
Only one of them had bonded with Wickham from the moment they met.
Only one of them had raised Wickham’s interest and become enchanted with him.
And only one of them had thrown the paper in his face when he tried to reveal the truth to her.
She was the one to whom he foolishly became attracted.
She was the one who refused him with deep anger and disdain but readily accepted Wickham, the one who ignored the needs of her family and the prospect of being able to offer them a life of comfort and safety, and the one who abandoned her sisters and her parents to elope with the man she loved so passionately that nothing else mattered.
The mere thought made him nauseous, and he rubbed his temples with heavy fingers. How would it feel to be loved in such a way?
He then threw his glass into the empty fireplace.
He was surely out of his mind. Certainly, he could find nothing acceptable in such an unreasonable feeling, in such a condemnable gesture.
Even more so, while her feelings must have been strong to provoke such an irresponsible decision, could Wickham’s feelings be sincere?
Did he truly feel such a deep attachment towards Elizabeth?
He might have —just as it happened to him. Darcy, too, had made a reckless decision when he proposed to her against his duty, his family, his own common sense, and wisdom. Why would Wickham —who had nothing to lose —act differently?
Darcy paced his room until dawn. The notion that Elizabeth could abandon her entire life and family, bond forever to Wickham, lie in Wickham’s arms, and choose him against all reason was a burden he could not carry, and he felt it would crush him the moment he sat down.
And he knew it was his fault again; had he exposed Wickham from the very beginning, had he showed some interest and respect for the feelings of the people in Meryton, had he not intervened to convince his friend against his own feelings, perhaps this would not have happened.
But all that was in the past now, and he knew his rest and his peace were gone forever.
∞∞∞
Dinner at Gracechurch Street was pleasant as always. It ended rather early, and Mrs. Gardiner, as well as the children, retired for the night. Elizabeth and her uncle moved to the library, enjoying a glass of wine and a cup of tea while spending time in conversation and reading.
Mr. Gardiner asked for a little music, and Elizabeth played for him and then shared with him the conversation about Miss Anna’s proficiency at the pianoforte.
Mr. Gardiner showed increased curiosity about the two ladies who had become Elizabeth’s friends. They speculated about their identity, and Mr. Gardiner expressed his hope that there were at least one or two handsome gentlemen in their family who might become as interested in Elizabeth as they were.
Elizabeth laughed and begged her uncle not to even mention such a possibility to her mother, or she would never hear the end of it.
It was rather close to midnight when they were startled by voices at the entrance. Before either had time to see what was happening, the door opened, and Mr. Bennet barged in, followed closely by Colonel Forster.
Both gentlemen wore tormented expressions on their faces, and there was no doubt that the situation was grave.
The presence of the colonel —almost a stranger to the family —frightened Elizabeth. She hurried to her father, who leant against the settee in a visible state of exhaustion.
“Papa, are you hurt?”
“No, my dear, I am fine…as fine as I can be. It is about Lydia. She eloped from Brighton…with our ‘friend’ Wickham.”
Astonishment left both Elizabeth and Mr. Gardiner in silent disbelief. The extraordinary announcement sounded like thunder in Elizabeth’s mind, raising a storm of thoughts and questions without answers.
“Papa, what are you saying? How can this be? Lydia? With Mr. Wickham? It must be a mistake,” Elizabeth cried. “Sir, are you certain?” she addressed the colonel, who averted his eyes and searched for words with great difficulty.
“I beg your forgiveness…I do not know how this happened…I never had any suspicion. She left my wife a letter…here it is,” he said, handing it to Elizabeth. “Miss Lydia says they went to Gretna Green to marry…but…”
“Marry? But how…? She is only fifteen…and how can he support a wife?” Elizabeth’s astonishment continued as she took the note and read it eagerly.
Mr. Bennet waved his hand while taking a glass offered by his brother-in-law. “I would have wagered my last penny that this could not happen. Why would he marry her? She has no money, no connections to help him…and he is ruined and burdened by debts. He will never marry her…”
“Oh, poor silly girl,” Elizabeth whispered when she finished her youngest sister’s joyful letter. She wiped her tears then sat by her father, crushing the paper in her hands. She glanced from one gentleman to the other as if begging for a signal of hope that did not come.