Chapter 4
Darcy woke even earlier than usual. Excitement and worry about the long journey that lay ahead troubled him.
He would return to Pemberley and remain there until spring; it was his desire as well as Georgiana’s.
Mrs Annesley would join them, and everything was prepared for safe travel despite the bad weather.
Colonel Fitzwilliam decided to accompany them and take the opportunity to visit friends in the North.
Darcy accepted his explanation, being confident that his cousin wished only to assure himself that Georgiana arrived at their destination safely.
As soon as morning light arrived, the luggage was all arranged in the carriage, and the party of servants took their places.
Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were helping Georgiana and Mrs Annesley to walk carefully on the slippery ground when their attention was drawn by two large carriages halting a few houses down the street. From inside one of them, a man stared at them with unconcealed curiosity.
They could not see him well enough to notice his features, but once they entered their carriage and the horses started to move on at a steady pace, the colonel opened the conversation animatedly.
“I believe that was Mr Drake Wilson. He rented the Kendal residence; my mother has spoken of him quite frequently in the last fortnight.”
“Have you made his acquaintance?” Georgiana inquired.
“I have not; he is a mysterious man and very private, my father discovered. Very few people have even talked to him as his attorney took care of the settlement documents. Nobody knows exactly where this Drake Wilson came from, but it is said he has lived abroad his entire life and is exceedingly wealthy.”
“Does he have any family?” Mrs Annesley asked.
“He does not—at least, not that we have heard of,” the colonel explained.
“Well, by the time we return, everything will be known about him; I have no doubt. People’s curiosity will spread gossip all over Town,” Darcy concluded.
“I am sure my mother will discover everything even sooner.” The colonel laughed. “I am not sure where he lived before or what his life has been so far, but he will soon learn that, if you come from nowhere and rent a house in Park Lane, you will have little privacy left.”
∞∞∞
Longbourn, February 1812
Two weeks after the first letter regarding Jane’s visit to the Bingley sisters, Elizabeth received another that saddened her even more but also brought her some relief.
My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of laughing at my silliness and triumph at my expense.
Now I am certain I foolishly deceived myself about Miss Bingley’s regard for me.
Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday, and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the meantime.
When she did come, she stayed only half an hour and showed her clear displeasure in being here.
Aunt Madeleine was so offended by her rude remarks.
She was such an altered creature that, when she went away, I was perfectly resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer.
I cannot but wonder, however, whether she informed Mr Bingley of my being in Town.
She said he knows but he cares for nothing except Mr and Miss Darcy.
Miss Bingley said something of his never returning again to Netherfield, of giving up the house, but not with any certainty.
If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should almost be tempted to say that there is a strong appearance of duplicity in all this.
But I shall endeavour to banish every painful thought and think only of what will make me happy: your affection and the invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt and Mr Wilson.
He arrived after Caroline left, and he found me and Aunt Madeleine rather disturbed.
He inquired until he discovered the truth from us, and he became so angry that Aunt struggled to calm him, with little success.
He was out of sorts the entire evening and declared he would personally take care of the business.
I cannot possibly imagine what he means by that, but I assure you, his was not a pleasant image to behold.
I hope he will not do anything imprudent, but what could he really do—force Mr Bingley to visit?
We had better not mention this ever again.
I am thrilled that you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at Hunsford.
Pray go to see them with Sir William and Maria.
I am sure you will be very comfortable there.
Rosings must be a lovely place in the spring. Your loving sister—Jane.
The rest of the letter was written a day later, and Elizabeth’s spirits returned as soon as she finished reading it.
Dearest Lizzy, I now have further proof of Caroline’s deception.
Everything she told me—at least, most of it—was untrue.
Mr Bingley has not been in London at all since Christmas, and both Mr and Miss Darcy returned to Pemberley some time ago.
There were no meetings and no time spent by the three of them together.
Mr Wilson personally made inquiries and came with the doubtless result.
I try not to think much of this; I know I have no reason to hope for a sign from him or for a renewal of our acquaintance.
At least, I have the comfort of knowing he did not forget me so easily, nor did he direct his attention towards someone else.
Elizabeth’s heart melted with love and concern for her dear sister, followed by anger then tearful laughter. Mr Wilson taking upon himself the protection of Jane and their aunt from the offences of Miss Bingley was comforting and heart-warming.
At least, Jane would no longer be duped by Caroline Bingley.
As for the brother, he proved himself to be a weak man if he could so easily abandon Jane.
He did not betray her, nor did he value her and her affection as she deserved.
To punish him, Elizabeth hoped Jane might meet someone more prosperous, more handsome, and more decided and be soon engaged.
He might marry the proud Miss Darcy—or whomever he wanted—and repine his entire life over what he had missed.
Elizabeth wrote back to her sister, trying to keep a light tone when she asked about London, their cousins, and Mr Wilson’s new home.
She shared details of her planned visit to Kent and news of their neighbours—including Mr Wickham.
She was able to light-heartedly confess that Mr Wickham’s partiality towards her had subsided and his admiration had moved to Mary King, a young woman living in Meryton with her uncle.
Her recent inheritance of ten thousand pounds was the remarkable charm that seemed to attract Mr Wickham’s affection.
Elizabeth knew Jane would suffer for her, so she carefully assured her sister that she was not at all affected and wished him nothing but the best.
In truth, she cared even less than she expected.
Her heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity and pride were satisfied in believing that she would have been his only choice had his wealth permitted it.
Despite her sisters’ and mother’s anger, she still thought Mary King to be a nice sort of girl with a good heart and enough accomplishments to be an excellent wife.
And with that, all her concerns on the matter ended, and her worries returned to her dear Jane and the anticipation of finally seeing all the windows of Rosings.
However, until then, a piece of news from her aunt’s letter surprised and entertained her exceedingly: Mr Drake Wilson seemed inclined—although still undecided—to visit Kent briefly during her stay there. That was indeed something to anticipate with pleasure.
∞∞∞
Preparations for the journey to Kent began when spring tentatively enfolded the countryside.
Elizabeth was pleased with the plan; absence had increased her desire to see Charlotte again and lessened her disgust for Mr Collins. Moreover, it was decided to stop for a night in London, giving her the pleasure of seeing her relatives and dear Jane.
The only sorrow was in leaving her father, who declared he would miss her and demanded she write him every day.
“Cruel child! You intend to enjoy the windows of Rosings by yourself with no thought for your dear father,” Mr Bennet uttered. “And you and Jane will both be away. I shall not have a reasonable conversation while you are gone.”
“Do not worry, Papa. I shall return in no time. But then, be prepared for another absence as I intend to visit the Lakes with my aunt and uncle in the summer. You know that!”
“Well, perhaps Wilson will rent a house at the Lakes too, and we can all go there. He mentioned something about getting one in Brighton. Upon my word, this fellow is surely in a fever of purchasing—very much like Lydia. He acquires houses as rapidly as Lydia buys bonnets.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Papa, do not be harsh on him. He has been away for a lifetime, and God knows what he had to endure. I feel he has not told us a quarter of the turmoil he had to bear. He uses his fortune to provide comfort for his family. Is this bad? Do you think he is boastful?”
“No, no, not boastful—at least not in the usual way. Not as Bingley’s sisters were—or even Sir William or Mr Collins.
Wilson speaks of his fortune without consideration, pride, or joy—only as a means of obtaining what he wants.
And yes, I agree: there is much more to him than he has allowed us to know.
Perhaps he cannot say more; he might be forbidden to do so.
We know so little that we should not even attempt to speculate.
But it is good he has a house near Hyde Park. Do we need more?”
Elizabeth laughed again. “Not at all, and if he invites us for the Season, he will be forever our favourite.”
“Well, well, I never knew you to be such a fortune hunter, Lizzy. And with a man you do not even intend to marry.”