Chapter 11 #2
“Yes, I promise. I mean—I shall be more careful in the future. I…please do not tell Lizzy, or she will be upset with me…”
“I assure you there is no reason to doubt my secrecy. Now, shall we prepare for dinner? It should be ready soon,” the gentleman said kindly, and Maria hurried to her chamber, still fearful that she had done something wrong.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth struggled to remain composed during dinner.
She wished it to be over, and she was annoyed by the lengthy conversations.
She spoke little, even to Jane. She knew her behaviour was outrageous, and she could not comprehend the reason.
She was shocked to see Darcy, but not in an unpleasant way.
She would have liked to speak to him. She wished to let him know she regretted her misjudgement and that she understood his explanations. Instead, she ran away.
But something was different about him; his appearance was altered, and therefore, her own manners were altered.
She knew not what she felt when she met him and knew even less how to react.
So she chose to leave, but almost the next instant she repented it.
However, she had no means to remedy her wrong, so she had to bear the remorse of losing, perhaps, the only opportunity to clarify things with him.
Such a coincidence would not soon be repeated, if ever again. And she had missed it.
The minutes passed slowly, and she noticed she was not the only one uncomfortable.
Mr Wilson did not seem his usual self, and Maria was also out of spirits.
The master of the house looked at her several times, and Elizabeth tried to return a polite smile until she lost her patience and avoided his gaze.
What purpose might he have to stare at her in such a manner?
He reminded her of the aloof Mr Darcy when he was in Hertfordshire, but surely Mr Wilson did not possess any special admiration for her, so he must have another sort of interest—about which she could not care less at the moment.
If only dinner would end so she might retire to her chamber quickly.
She already mentioned to Jane that she was tired, hoping her sister would not bother her with more questions.
After the second course, Mr Wilson’s valet entered and apologized. The master moved to a corner where they spoke privately for several minutes, then the servant left, and the gentleman returned to the table.
“I am afraid I have to leave. There is an urgent matter I must take care of without delay. I am not sure when I shall return, but please finish your meal and enjoy your evening as you like. I shall see you at breakfast.”
Mrs Gardiner received the news with concern.
“Brother, is anything amiss? May we help in any way?”
“I would be happy to assist you with any problem,” Mr Gardiner offered.
Mr Wilson smiled and replied calmly, “Please do not worry; no assistance is necessary. I must meet someone and discuss several important issues. Everything is fine, I assure you. I apologize for my rude interruption of dinner, but I must solve the problem tonight.”
He then bowed, smiled to her family, and withdrew, leaving the others with worry, puzzlement, and a subject for conversation until they retired to their chambers.
The most content was Elizabeth, who had reason to return to her room early and spend the rest of the evening and most of the night with tormented thoughts and disturbed musings, most of them involving Mr Darcy.
∞∞∞
Darcy skipped dinner again. It was ridiculous to eat formally in the dining room by himself; therefore, he usually ordered his food be brought to the library. It was more than enough since he had lost his appetite long ago.
The meeting with Elizabeth was disturbing, and with each passing moment, he grew more restless.
She looked as charming as ever, only pale and upset.
Her eyes were shadowed and her smile faded.
She was troubled seeing him, and if she enjoyed her walk in the park, such enjoyment was gone by the time he saw her.
She hurried away from him; he was certain of that.
She could not stand his presence, so she pretended she needed to return to her relatives.
Their encounter was more painful than their separation. He saw her, but she despised seeing him, so he discovered he had no hope.
He wondered whether she returned to Gracechurch Street, how they came to be in Hyde Park, and when she might be in the area again. However, he would never dare to disturb her with his presence again. But he could watch her from afar just to fill his eyes with her lovely figure.
Pouring himself a glass of brandy, he walked around the library, glanced outside, and looked absently at the library’s shelves. There was so much furniture, so many books, so many objects in the room, but it seemed empty and deserted—like he felt inside.
He wrote a note to Bingley and rang for a footman, asking that it be delivered immediately. He did not know whether his friend had returned to Town, but he must find out without delay.
Half an hour passed, and the servant returned, bowing and apologizing for the interruption.
“Sir, there is a gentleman in the hall, demanding to speak to you. I have never seen him before, and he did not provide his name or identity. Should I ask him in?”
“What does he want? How dare he appear on my doorstep at such an hour? Some people have no manners.”
“He said very little. He mentioned a wish to discuss with you something of great urgency regarding a Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Darcy almost dropped his brandy. He tried to calm his voice as he inquired with what he hoped to be a composed tone.
“About Miss Elizabeth? That is rather peculiar. Very well, I shall see him. Bring him in here.”
“As you wish, sir.” The footman’s puzzlement was apparent, but he said no more. He left in silence and returned shortly, stopped in the doorway, and invited a man inside.
Darcy looked at the unexpected visitor with no concealed curiosity.
He was of middle age with his long hair tied at his nape.
His clothes looked to be of the latest fashion and the fabric of the highest quality.
He wore a beard that covered his face but could not hide a visible scar on his cheek.
His eyes were dark blue, and his glare sharp and cold.
He moved forward, and Darcy nodded to the footman to retire. When the door closed, their eyes met, and a heavy silence fell over the library.
Darcy had a feeling he had seen the man before but could not recollect the circumstances. However, his guest’s stare showed no amiability and plenty of restrained anger.
Darcy stepped towards him. “I was told you wish to speak to me privately about a matter of great importance regarding Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Who are you, sir, and what do you know of Miss Elizabeth? You have entered my house without a proper introduction, and only curiosity forbids my banishing you.”
The man’s gaze sharpened, and he, too, took a step forward. The confrontation began.
“I am Miss Elizabeth’s uncle, and I demand an explanation about your treatment of her.
Your meeting troubled her exceedingly, and she is not a lady to be easily disturbed.
I was left to understand this is only the continuation of your dishonourable and hurtful behaviour towards her in Kent,” the man exclaimed, his eyes narrowing with his ire.
Darcy looked at the visitor, completely dumbfounded, and struggled to choose his words.
“You speak nonsense, and I shall certainly not have such a conversation with a complete stranger. Whatever occurred between Miss Elizabeth and me is a private matter.”
“Not quite so private. Your rudeness to her in Hertfordshire is already public knowledge. And yet, she received it with amusement. Therefore, anything that disturbed her and left her tearful or interrupted her walk in the park at your mere sight cannot be disregarded.”
“My rudeness to her? I disturbed her walk? This is certainly the most awkward discussion I have ever had. And I might safely say you know nothing of the subject, just as I know nothing of your identity. I shall not discuss it any further,” Darcy uttered.
“I know enough to be certain that your father would be greatly disappointed in you. That you betrayed his trust and disobeyed his last wish regarding his godson is one thing. But to know you offended a young woman of character in ways I do not dare consider is despicable and must be addressed.”
“And yet, I am in no mood to be addressed on any subject. You clearly spoke to Wickham and believed his lies, which displays your own wisdom. I shall advise you not to say another word of my father, or you will suffer the consequences. This conversation is at an end. If you were younger, I would have called you out by now.”
“Younger? You think I am old? You are not man enough to call me out, young man, and you surely need to be taught a lesson. I shall allow you to choose the weapon should you desire to settle this matter in a gentlemanlike manner—that is, if you know what ‘gentlemanlike’ means.”
Anger quickly overcame his fatigue, the turmoil he had endured for so many months, and the two glasses of brandy he had consumed that evening.
The self-control on which he always prided himself, betrayed him.
His reason was defeated by offence, frustration, and disappointment, and he hastily judged that all was the fault of one person—the one who had treated him so unjustly.
Since she was not there, he levelled all his fury upon the man in front of him.
“I struggle to decide whether I should laugh and ask you to be thrown out of the house or continue this charade, just to discover how far Miss Elizabeth will go with it. Although she expressed her opinion of me very clearly when she refused my marriage proposal and I know she considers me the lowest human being on earth, it seems not to be enough for her. I had hoped that she would read my letter and understand some of my explanations—perhaps even ask me for further details. Instead, she sends her uncle to call me out and expose an old man to the danger of being killed in a duel. What kind of woman does that? To risk another person’s life for her own selfish reasons?
How could I have misjudged her so utterly and completely?
And what have I done that she hates me so?
But it does not even matter. Please leave now and assure her she will never see me again in her lifetime. ”
“If you call me ‘old man’ one more time, I shall rip you apart, boy!” the man yelled while stepping forward. “What on earth are you talking about? A marriage proposal? You proposed to her? And she refused? When did this happen?”
“What am I talking about? What are you talking about?! I thought…did she not tell you? What kind of uncle are you to her? And what are you doing in my house? Are you out of your mind? No, I must be out of my mind to talk to a complete stranger about such a disturbing matter. You will tell me your name at once. I cannot allow you to leave now and carry such a secret!”
The guest seemed to lose all his determination. He appeared dumbstruck, incredulous, and suddenly tired. He searched for support against the back of the settee before answering.
“Calm down, Darcy. You have no reason to worry about my secrecy. I spoke nonsense indeed; I might have lost my mind, after all. I am Mrs Madeleine Gardiner’s brother. And I was your father’s best friend. I am Gilbert Wilson.”
The words hit Darcy so strongly that he turned completely pale; his knees weakened, and he forced his feet to move towards the intruder. His hands shook and then became fists until he reached the man, grabbed his shoulders, and pushed him violently against the wall.
“You have lost your mind. I cannot imagine your purpose, but you are close to not escaping this house in one piece. You have polluted my reputation, my father’s name, and the memory of a man who is equally important to me.
You can be nothing but a wretch and a poor excuse for a man.
I am not surprised Wickham is your friend; and if you are the one Miss Elizabeth trusts, you deserve each other. ”
His anger defeated all reason; his voice trembled, and he felt he had lost complete control of himself as his hands moved towards the stranger’s throat. Of their own will, his fingers tightened their grip so firmly that he was afraid he might choke him to death.
But the man’s face remained unmoved; their eyes met from only inches apart, and there was no sign of fear or concern. The invader put his hands upon Darcy and loosened the grip with unexpected ease. Then spoke in a low voice.
“Fitzwilliam, say no more that you will soon come to regret. Do you still have that little birthmark in the shape of a crescent moon on your right thigh? And I see you kept George’s old desk.
Are his papers still in the middle drawer?
As for the books, I see they are mostly on the same shelves, except for the ones you added on this wall. ”
Darcy’s chest was weighted by a burden that took his breath away. His hands fell away, and he stepped back, gazing at the man in astonishment. The chamber suddenly felt hot, and sweat moistened his forehead. He wiped it with the back of his hand then walked hesitantly towards his armchair.
His guest waited for no invitation before he followed him and sat on the couch.
“I see you kept the armchair too,” Wilson added. “If the bottles are still in their place, I would really appreciate a drink. And some coffee would be useful; I feel it will be a long night. I see your food is still on the plate. You have barely touched it, so at least we shall not starve.”
Darcy glared at him for a moment then rang the bell and ordered coffee. The liquor was just where the guest said, so he reluctantly filled two glasses with brandy, forcing himself to comprehend what had just occurred—and Elizabeth’s involvement.