Chapter 28
RICHLY DESERVE
Elizabeth had dressed with more than usual care and prepared in the highest spirits in eager anticipation of what was to unfold late that night. She spent the better part of her time glancing at the clock, for she thought the evening’s activities would never end.
At length, the gathering dispersed, everyone with the intention of retiring to his or her own apartment. When the household appeared to have settled for the evening, Elizabeth stole away from the room. She would use the excuse of searching for a book to read if she were discovered.
She did not get very far before the sound of a gentleman’s voice caused her to halt her steps. She turned to face him.
“Mr. Wickham.” She curtsied.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bowing.” Pardon, Miss Bennet. Once again, I wish to congratulate you on your family’s good fortune?”
“On my sister’s behalf, I thank you, sir. “
“Indeed, I might add that your sister fared far better than she might have had fate not intervened by placing Charles Bingley in her path.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Perhaps I should not have spoken as I just did.”
“On the contrary, sir. If there is something you wish to tell me then, by all means, do so.”
With affected reluctance, he began. “It is commonly known that Darcy’s heart was not going to be touched so easily by your sister, regardless of her manifold attractions.”
“Commonly known?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, to those who know him best, your sister never stood a chance.”
Wickham’s words echoed the colonel’s sentiments too closely— indeed her own sentiments as well when Elizabeth dared confess it.
“I daresay this is not the first time that Darcy has toyed with a young woman’s heart. It is his way. At the end of the day, he will do what is expected of him.”
“And what, pray tell, do you suppose that is?”
“Oh! This is not merely supposition on my part. I have known Darcy all his life. Nothing is more important to him than money and power. He may trifle with the affections of unsuspecting young ladies, but he will never marry one of them. I say these things to you for your own benefit.”
Elizabeth looked at her watch. She realized she was late for her assignation with Mr. Darcy. She did not like the idea of keeping him waiting for no good cause, or in other words, Mr. Wickham’s baseless claims.
I shall not allow him to poison my opinion against Mr. Darcy any more than I would allow Mr. Darcy to poison my opinion against Wickham. Whatever is the source of acrimony between the two of them can have nothing at all to do with me.
Besides, if there were even a shred of truth to what Wickham had to say, then surely she owed it to Mr. Darcy to hear his own account.
She would not even allow herself to consider the implications of Wickham’s words on the sentiments espoused by Mr. Darcy earlier that very day and the ensuing purpose of their clandestine meeting in the library.
Let me speak with him for myself, and then I will know what to think. Furthermore, I shall ask him directly what were his intentions toward my sister, and whatever his reply, the matter shall be settled for all time.
Thus resolved, she bid Wickham a hasty adieu, but before she went on her way, he seized her hand in his, raised it to his lips, and bestowed a lingering kiss. And then they parted.
Upon arriving at the appointed place, albeit a tad late, Elizabeth sentiments were a mixture of regret and relief that Mr. Darcy was not there. Her chance encounter with Mr. Wickham had bothered her more than she had allowed, and she needed to compose herself before seeing him.
I shall speak with him tomorrow, she silently promised herself.
Upon returning to her apartment, Elizabeth surmised she must have had a visitor in her absence, for there was a missive on her dressing table. Having dismissed her maid for the evening, she could not help but wonder how the letter got there. Elizabeth reached for the letter. It bore the Darcy seal.
Did Mr. Darcy place it here himself? Perchance he provides an explanation for his absence.
She tore open the seal and began reading the missive in silence. The following words sprang from the page:
It is with a heavy heart that I find myself writing this letter to you.
Words can hardly express the depth of my disappointment in seeing you and Wickham speaking so intimately this very evening.
Is nothing I have said about that gentleman - his vile manner and low propensities - of any consequence?
Seeing you two behaving so intimately toward each other serves as sufficient proof that indeed, it does not.
Furthermore, your comportment makes me question whether I ever knew you at all.
I have witnessed too many young women being taken advantage of by Wickham.
I always supposed you were too sensible to be counted among them.
It seems I have badly mistaken your character, and now I must congratulate myself for having been denied the private audience I requested of you.
I shudder to think what I might have said or done had we met this evening, as I had proposed. Indeed, I am ashamed of what I once felt and cannot help but rejoice in having been spared the possibility of connections with people whose conditions in life are so decidedly beneath my own.
I will further add the only pleasure I shall expect where you and your family are concerned is your imminent leave-taking of Pemberley—an occasion which cannot come soon enough.
I will only say in closing, God speed. May you and all your family find the happiness you so richly deserve.
FD
The turmoil in Elizabeth’s mind increased with every review of the letter.
She thought she knew him too well to suspect that he might be jealous of George Wickham.
Perhaps there was some truth to Wickham’s words after all.
How else was she to explain such a harsh rebuke?
In all the time she had known Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, she never would have suspected such a cold dismissal from him.
Well, if he did not mean to see her again, if he chose to willfully misunderstand something so innocent as her walking and talking with Mr. Wickham, then it was just as well that their paths never crossed again.
Thus resolved, and by now wild to be away from Pemberley, Elizabeth rang the bell for her maid, with hardly a concern about the inconvenience of the hour.
It is painfully evident my presence at Pemberley is no longer tolerable. I must speak to Papa post haste and insist we take our leave of Derbyshire as soon as can be.