Darcy’s Epiphany #2
As she was well aware the gentlemen had not left for London, she had ignored said orders. They found everything as it should be, and their valets had them bathed, shaved and freshly clothed well ahead of the time to depart once again for Longbourn.
Two days later an irate letter arrived from Caroline Bingley, insisting that her brother return to town immediately.
Bingley read it with an amused expression, then tossed it onto his desk, as they were preparing to leave for Longbourn.
For the next week, a pattern emerged, Bingley and Darcy would ride in the morning, return to Netherfield for breakfast, then travel to Longbourn where they spent the day.
If Mrs. Bennet was still sometimes loud, and the younger girls boisterous, Darcy’s better understanding saw that none had malicious intent.
Mrs. Bennet had as much reason to encourage her daughters to marry as any society mother, more than most. It seemed that the obsequious clergyman, Mr. Collins, was heir to the entailed estate, and for many years Mrs. Bennet had feared their fate should they lose Mr. Bennet.
But after Mr. Collins offered an “olive branch” of marriage to Miss Elizabeth the morning after the ball, and was roundly refused, the man had slunk away.
Having faced down her nemesis, and having her eldest daughter engaged to Bingley, seemed to have settled the matron, however, and Darcy found her company tolerable enough for short conversations, usually about wedding plans.
He escaped to the study for a game of chess with Mr. Bennet when he needed a respite.
He found that in the face of his civility, and his support of Bingley’s engagement, the family warmed to him, including him more naturally in their conversation.
Miss Elizabeth, however… He and Elizabeth were frequently called on to chaperon their friend and sister, and just as frequently, Darcy would catch puzzled gazes from the second Bennet sister.
Monday morning the foursome walked to Meryton, to deliver an order to the butcher, and pick up a book Mr. Bennet had ordered.
The tasks were merely an excuse for Bingley and Miss Bennet to engage in private conversation, and the two bent their heads together in quiet murmurs as Darcy and Elizabeth followed behind.
Miss Elizabeth was quieter than her norm, and Darcy fell into reverie, realising that he must travel to London soon, as his sister would be arriving with their relations to spend Christmas in London.
Though they were separated a great deal, due to their relative ages and responsibilities, Darcy had yet to spend a Christmas apart from Georgiana since they lost their father.
As they neared Meryton, Miss Elizabeth stirred and he glanced over to see that puzzled look once again.
“Are you still trying to sketch my character?” he asked. “Have you any greater success?”
She smiled, twitching an eyebrow. “Indeed, and I begin to believe I understand you better, though you still are a man of contradictions. But I must thank you for your support of my sister’s engagement, and your patience with my family.”
“No thanks are necessary. Bingley is his own man, and made the decision to propose without regard for irrelevant opinions.”
They had reached Meryton, and as they passed an alley, he heard a muffled cry. He turned to see a young woman struggling with a man in the red of the militia. The man grasped her firmly by the arm, and as she pulled, he turned to reveal his face.
“Wickham!” Darcy roared, all his anger against the scoundrel boiling up.
Darcy strode down the alley to see a tall, muscular man enter at the opposite end.
Surprised, Wickham released the girl, who raced past Darcy and clung to Elizabeth.
The young giant, the son of the blacksmith, grabbed Wickham by the shoulder, then laid him low with a single blow to the chin.
Wickham’s head jerked back, and he staggered against the wall, slipping down to sprawl untidily in the waste of the alley.
“I told you to leave my sister alone,” the young man said in a voice all the more threatening for its calm. “And the butcher’s daughter, and the shop girl at the millinery.”
Darcy spoke, just as the blacksmith appeared to join his son.
“Well, Wickham, you’ve gotten yourself in a pickle now. I do not believe these gentlemen are terribly happy with you.”
Wickham wiped blood from his split lip. “Darcy, you have to help me.” He glanced uneasily at the two giants standing with hands on hips. “It is not how it looks.”
“Oh, I know how it is. And you have used up all the good will from my father’s affection for you. So my help is a choice. Marshalsea, for the debts I have paid for you, or join a regiment on the continent. Or, I can leave you to these gentlemen.”
Wickham turned quickly from Darcy to the blacksmiths back to Darcy. Seeing the implacable expression on all three faces, he deflated. “The regulars,” he mumbled, spitting out what appeared to be a tooth.
“Gentlemen, might you escort this… man to the colonel, and tell him I will attend him shortly to make arrangements?”
Silently the two men each grabbed an arm, lifting Wickham and marching him back down the alley, his feet barely touching the ground.
Darcy returned to Elizabeth and the girl, who had begun to compose herself. “Are you well?” he addressed the girl, but quirked an eyebrow at Elizabeth. Both nodded.
“I did not see him, or I would not have used the alley,” the girl, who appeared about Georgiana’s age, mumbled. “My mother sent me to the butcher.” She held up a basket which she still clutched.
“Please allow us to escort you home to your mother,” he said gently, then addressed Elizabeth. “Then, if you will excuse me, I will leave you with your sister while I call on Colonel Forster.”
She nodded, eyes still wide.
After leaving the girl at home, they turned back, to seek out Bingley and Miss Bennet.
“Everything Mr. Wickham said about you is a lie, is it not?” Miss Elizabeth suddenly blurted out.
“As I do not know exactly what he claimed, I cannot say with certainty. However, honesty is not within his capabilities, and he is a master at twisting tiny threads of truth into a whole cloth of lies.”
“He claimed you denied him the living your father wished for him.”
“After he accepted three thousand pounds to give it up, then asked for it when it came open.”
She nodded.
“And what Jeremy -the blacksmith’s son- said about the girls?”
“He is no respecter of women. He will dally with the willing, seduce the unwilling, and woo the wealthy. He is particularly irate with me as I interrupted his attempt at a young heiress this summer.”
His attempt at an even tone must not have been successful, as she looked up sharply. He stared ahead, so as to not give away Georgiana’s secret.
“He has been courting Mary King, who recently inherited ten thousand pounds,” she said.
“He must be in desperate straits, as he usually aims higher, but no surprise.”
They reached Miss Bennet and Bingley at that moment, and he excused himself with a brief explanation of business with the colonel, then departed, his step lightened with the prospect of finally being rid of the scourge of Wickham for good.
The Friday before Christmas, Darcy and Bingley waited -patiently or not- on the steps of Netherfield for their guests. Darcy repressed a smile at Bingley’s eager expression. His friend was practically bouncing on his toes as they watched the approaching carriages.
With Wickham out of the way, and the date for Bingley’s wedding set for January 6, Darcy had yielded to Bingley’s entreaties to invite his family, most particularly his sister, Georgiana, to celebrate the festive season at Netherfield.
Georgiana and Darcy’s cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, were to arrive shortly, as were Bingley’s own family, his mother and younger sister and brother, arriving from Scarborough.
His other sisters, Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, would arrive, under sufferance, on Christmas Eve, as they were still the targets of Bingley’s ire for attempting to separate him from Miss Bennet.
“It will be a fine celebration, old man,” Bingley said, slapping Darcy on the shoulder as the carriages came into view. “My family, your family, Miss Bennet’s family…”
Though uncomfortable with large gatherings, and still somewhat concerned about exposing Georgiana to the antics of the youngest Bennets, Darcy had to concur.
His better understanding of the Bennets had eased his censure.
But more important, in the days since the encounter with Wickham, Miss Elizabeth’s own manner toward him had changed.
Though still spritely and teasing, the sharp edge of her words had softened, and he had found himself engaged in deeper and more amiable conversations than ever before.
After the ball, he had been determined to leave her behind and conquer his attraction.
Then he had realised that she disliked him.
Now, well, now he knew what he felt was far more than infatuation, and he would stay the course until he learned whether she could return his regard.
The following day, the three families met for tea at Netherfield, and Darcy watched anxiously as Georgiana met the Bennets.
His fears were quickly assuaged, as the sisters welcomed her with immediate affection, and Mrs. Bennet swept her into a hug, pulling her aside to sit near the fire with herself and Mrs. Bingley.
Later in the afternoon, he noticed Elizabeth and Georgiana in intimate conversation, the one’s dark curls nearly touching the other’s blonde locks. He smiled, picturing evenings at Pemberley, with just the three of them. Elizabeth would be as exemplary a sister as she would be a wife.