Chapter 19
ITS INCONVENIENCES
A fortnight thereafter, Elizabeth stood in St. Clement’s, the church in which the fateful wedding was to take place, with Mrs. Gardiner and Lydia—the latter dressed in white.
Elizabeth rightfully supposed she had Mr. Darcy to thank for their being there, and for that she was glad.
However, she had scarcely seen him since he delivered her to the Gardiners’ home. She could not blame him.
Why on Earth would such a man want to attach himself to a family marred by scandal?
Even if the Bennets were not heavily embroiled in disgrace, her family was decidedly beneath Mr. Darcy’s in consequence.
It was one thing for him to look past her family’s lack of fortune and want of connections, but even her family’s oldest friends had reportedly turned their backs on them, according to Jane’s account in her most recent letter from Longbourn.
Today’s event is merely the first step on the steep climb towards respectability, Elizabeth thought to herself. Soon, I shall be eternally tied to Mr. Wickham—the man whom Mr. Darcy warned me against. Had I been open with my family as Mr. Darcy insisted, we might have avoided all this.
Had I not courted pride and prepossession, my youngest sister might not be on the verge of marrying a man who neither loves nor respects her.
What is more, Wickham’s shameful deed has unearthed alarming accounts of the actual extent of his weak character, for he is reported to be a gambler who has amassed significant debts in his wake.
For so long I touted Wickham as one of the best men I knew—I who fancied myself a studier of character, a master of discernment. Do I even know myself?
Sensing her dearest aunt had done her very best in trying to tame Lydia’s wild spirits, Elizabeth admonished her sister, who refused to accept the reasons put forth as to why her mother, her father, and her other sisters were not attending the ceremony.
Suffering under the heavy burden of what Lydia had done and the shame for his own part in allowing her to do it, Mr. Bennet took his leave of town soon after his youngest daughter was discovered and returned to the Gardiners’ home.
Whatever had been the extent of her father’s involvement with Mr. Darcy Elizabeth could not say, for the gentlemen had been wont to seclude themselves inside the confines of her uncle’s study and to keep the business to themselves after they emerged.
As for the matter of her mother and sisters traveling to town to celebrate the sordid, hastily arranged affair that had threatened to ruin them in the eyes of society, Mr. Bennet simply would not sanction it.
“La! I wish you and Aunt Gardiner would stop preaching to me as though you were giving a sermon. That is all the two of you have done for the past two weeks. Not once did either of you consider that I might wish to spend my last days and nights as a single woman having fun. No, the two of you have kept me hidden away as though I were a prisoner. Not one party or scheme, or anything. I should have much preferred to have been with my dear Wickham. Lizzy, you cannot imagine all the fun I had when he and I were together—just the two of us.”
“Pray, Lydia, remember yourself,” Elizabeth scolded. “The least you might attempt to do is exercise proper decorum inside the walls of the church.”
“Oh, bother! You are no fun at all.” Lydia clasped her hands to her chest. “I can hardly wait until I am once again in my dear Wickham’s arms.” As though aware the appointed hour for the ceremony was drawing near, she cried, “I shall be Mrs. Lydia Wickham in no time at all. I cannot imagine what must be keeping him. I can hardly wait to see him. I do hope he will be wearing his blue coat. Lizzy, be a dear and find out if my Wickham has arrived.”
“I will not!” Elizabeth exclaimed with energy.
“Oh! Lizzy, you are no fun at all.” She huffed. “Is there any wonder? No doubt, you are simply jealous because Wickham is marrying me and not you, for I stole him from you. And here I was planning to make amends by telling you exactly what you must do to capture a husband of your own.”
“I am grateful to be spared your generosity,” cried Elizabeth, “for I do not particularly like your way of getting husbands.”
A knock at the door signaled it was time for the bride to take her place at the altar. It was all Elizabeth and her aunt could do to tame Lydia’s enthusiasm and persuade her to show a decent measure of decorum.
Moments later, the uneasiness of this being Elizabeth’s first time seeing George Wickham since saying goodbye to him in Hertfordshire so many months ago was nothing at all in comparison with the surprise in espying the gentleman standing next to him. Mr. Darcy!
Soon enough, the deed was done. If asked, Elizabeth would have been unable to recall a single moment of what had transpired. Her mind was busily engaged with one question. Why is Mr. Darcy standing up for Wickham?
Shortly after the ceremony, Elizabeth was standing away from her aunt and her younger sister, watching in disgust as the latter proudly flaunted her gaudy ring before the former. She was roused from her reflections by someone’s approach. Before she could escape, Wickham stood directly before her.
He bowed slightly. “You cannot possibly know how much it means to me that you are here. I do not think I presume too much in saying that you and I were good friends before I went away to Brighton and you went away to Kent. I should like to think we are to be even better friends now that we are brother and sister, Elizabeth.”
She opened her eyes wide in being addressed so intimately.
“Surely, you do not object to my referring to you by your given name. Perchance you would rather I call you Lizzy. I do not mind telling you how much I have longed to hear you address me by my given name.”
“You may address me in any manner you wish, Mr. Wickham. It is as you say, after all, true that we are to be forever bound to each other as brother and sister.”
He took Elizabeth by the hand, and, in spite of her subtle attempts to jerk it away without causing a spectacle, the man would not let go.
He raised it to his lips at which point she did manage to evade the touch of his lips against her skin.
It sickened her that she had, at one time, admired this man—that she had, at one time, welcomed such a gesture.
Intending to recover from her rebuff, he stood straight and tall and clutched his hands behind his back. “I take it that you enjoyed a lovely visit with your intimate friend, Mrs. Collins.”
Feigning a polite smile, she answered in the affirmative.
“No doubt, your visit could not have been without its inconveniences.”
“In what manner, sir?” Elizabeth asked, her brow arched.
“I am not unaware of your history with her husband.”
“Mr. Collins is, after all, my cousin, and thus there is no escaping spending time in his company. I do not need to remind you that one cannot always pick one’s relations.”
“True … true.” Wickham looked around again before continuing his unwelcome discourse. “No doubt, your time in that part of the country afforded ample opportunity for you to get acquainted with my old friend as well.”
“I take it that you are referring to Mr. Darcy.”
“Indeed,” he replied, biting his lips. “He has always been there for me during those times when I needed him most.”
“I did have the opportunity to make Mr. Darcy’s acquaintance, and not once did I get the impression that the two of you were friends.”
“I posit a friendship like ours—born out of years of living together and playing together for the better part of one’s life—does not fade regardless of the passage of time or whatever ill-will may have resulted upon the chance occasion or two. Indeed. I rely upon it.”
Wickham looked about to see who was standing in their general vicinity. Seeing that no one else was close by, he returned his eyes to Elizabeth. “Indeed, Darcy has been there at the times when I needed him most, especially of late, as he very well should have—”
“—How do you suppose such a thing?” Elizabeth inquired with energy, thereby interrupting whatever falsehood he was about to put forth.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “It is simple. If Darcy had not acted out of malice, dare I say jealousy, and denied me the living in Kympton that his late father intended for me I should never have required his assistance from the start.”
Elizabeth looked at Wickham incredulously. Does he blame Mr. Darcy for all his misfortunes? The audacity of this man!
No doubt reading the skepticism in her face, he leaned a bit closer. “When the two of you were in Kent, Darcy did tell you that I was old Mr. Darcy’s godson, did he not?”
“Indeed. He told me that you were his father’s godson. He told me a number of things pertaining to you, as did his aunt Lady Catherine and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Wickham huffed. “I can only imagine what his lofty relations may have said. My experience with the Fitzwilliam family is that they always tended to be of one mind, especially as regarded opposing those whom they deem beneath them in consequence.”
Elizabeth had been keeping an eye out for Mr. Darcy, hoping for a chance to speak with him privately after being denied any such opportunity since he bought her to Cheapside.
She knew enough from Lydia to know the extent of his involvement in the latter’s return to the Gardiners’ home, but how much he was concerned in succeeding events she could not say.
Her uncle had been particularly guarded as regarded such specifics, and Elizabeth, grateful for her uncle’s sacrifices, did not intend to press for details he made such an effort not to confide.
Wishing to escape her new brother’s company without being rude, Elizabeth allowed her eyes to wander to where she last espied Mr. Darcy speaking with her uncle.
Mr. Gardiner was still standing there, but not Mr. Darcy.
Her heart leapt from her chest. She looked throughout the room in search of him, but it was all in vain.
All thoughts of civility escaped her, and Elizabeth walked away from Wickham and hastened out of the church door and down the steps. It was no use. Mr. Darcy was gone.
A sinking feeling overcame her. Have I lost the good opinion of the one man whose opinion matters most to me—the one man who might have meant something to me?
Her happiest memories of being with Mr. Darcy flashed before her mind. She was certain that when they were together in Kent, he looked at her with the deepest of affection. Today, he barely looked at me at all.
Something deep inside urged her to scream aloud at the injustice of it all—that Lydia should be parading about inside the church professing herself the happiest and the luckiest woman in all of England after all the trouble she had caused.
That I should be standing here alone and wondering if I shall ever see Mr. Darcy again.
Alone on the street, an overwhelming desire to get away from the turmoil of the past weeks swept over Elizabeth. I miss my dearest sister Jane. I long for the comfort of being at home, surrounded by my own things. I must return to Longbourn.