Hertfordshire Christmas #3
Darcy had not spoken directly to Elizabeth since the Netherfield Ball.
Ashamed of his conduct, he had tried to repair his damaged reputation with the community before seeking her forgiveness.
She watched him -he could feel her stares whenever they were in company.
Still, he did not feel ready to approach.
That evening, Mrs. Bennet seated him next to her youngest. On his other side was the matron herself.
Both ladies spoke unceasingly during the meal, keeping his attention solely on them.
Miss Lydia peppered him with questions on all manner of subjects, from his house in town to his favorite amusements.
During the final course, she brought up Mr. Wickham, and he bristled slightly before controlling his response.
“A certain militia officer has much to say about Pemberley, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Lydia tittered. “I believe he wishes Derbyshire were still his home.” Her expression spoke volumes, and Darcy understood her ill-disguised attempts at chastisement.
“Mr. Wickham's choices led him to his current state,” he replied neutrally.
A sudden idea came to him. If Miss Lydia knew the truth, she would not hesitate to share it.
Darcy did not like airing his business to all and sundry, but resolved it was best to fight fire with fire.
“May I speak candidly? An intelligent young lady such as yourself deserves to have the whole story instead of one side.”
She looked intrigued and nodded. Darcy lowered his voice dramatically, speaking in low tones. “Mr. Wickham signed away his rights to the living,” he murmured. “I have the papers to prove it. I compensated him.”
Miss Lydia gasped. “Oh, that is delicious! How much?” She leaned forward eagerly, fairly bouncing in her chair.
“Three thousand pounds.” At his pronouncement, he leaned away, ostensibly to take another bite of food. “I know not how he came to be in such dire straits. The income on the sum, in addition to the one thousand left to him in my father's will, ought to have seen him to security.”
The lady's face puckered. “That is one hundred sixty pounds a year!” she squawked.
“That is more than my pin money -more than I will receive per year until my mother passes away. Goodness, how does one spend such a sum?” Her eyes narrowed and she stared him down.
“How do I know you are being honest?” she asked.
“Mr. Wickham is more charming than you. Though you have tried to make yourself agreeable these past two weeks, I cannot forget how you disdained everyone.”
“My actions were wrong, Miss Lydia. I am very sorry and hope you will forgive me someday. As for who to believe, I could send for the documents proving my story, if there is a need. Can he provide such evidence?” He left it at that.
She fell silent, and he could almost see the cogs in her mind turning as she considered what he had said.
Darcy had heard Mr. Bennet refer to his younger daughters as the silliest girls in all England.
Darcy did not believe it. Miss Lydia was intelligent, if untried.
A governess and lessons with the masters and she would improve.
He did not have the chance to speak to Miss Elizabeth that night, though he watched her more than usual. As the evening came to a close, their gazes locked. Darcy did not look away, instead allowing all his emotions to be seen in his gaze. She flushed, and he knew she understood.
***
24th December 1811, Longbourn
ELIZABETH
“I know something you do not know!” Lydia chanted in a singsong voice, prancing in Elizabeth's doorway.
She kept her gaze on the mirror as Molly pinned the last of her curls in place.
As the maid departed, Elizabeth turned and gave Lydia her full attention.
“Will you keep me in suspense or share this great knowledge?” Smiling, she stood and beckoned Lydia into the room.
Her sister came in and closed the door, still bouncing eagerly on her feet.
“Mr. Darcy compensated Wickham for the living!” Lydia blurted. “He told me himself. I tried to keep it to myself, but I shall burst!”
Elizabeth froze, her eyes widening in shock.
“When did you hear this? Where did you hear it?” She felt she already knew the answer.
Her sister had been in an intense conversation with Mr. Darcy when he and Mr. Bingley came for supper.
Elizabeth recalled feeling unaccountably jealous at the attention he paid her sister.
Lydia quickly related the tale. “I told Maria and Kitty, of course, and we all agree Mr. Wickham has misrepresented himself. Why, he is courting Miss King and her ten thousand pounds. It is clear his motives are mercenary.”
“That is… very astute of you,” Elizabeth stuttered.
“I am not stupid, Lizzy, though you and Papa think so. Mr. Darcy offered proof, too! What has Mr. Wickham done? Nothing! Though, it is very vexing, for he is terribly handsome! I suppose I must resist his charms now, and ignore him.”
“One can still be kind and courteous without being taken in, dearest.” Elizabeth was still reeling from shock. “Now, let us go downstairs. It is nearly time to gather greenery!”
Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were to help, and Elizabeth hoped to partner with the latter.
She wanted to speak to him, and did not wish to delay any longer.
Over the past weeks, she had sorted through her conflicting emotions about the gentleman and resolved to grant him her forgiveness if he asked for it.
She knew now that her wounded vanity had fed her dislike, and that anger was a secondary emotion.
Under it all, she felt great disappointment.
A man of his caliber had disdained and insulted her when she had hoped he would find her attractive.
The gentlemen were already downstairs, outerwear still donned. Jane stood with Mr. Bingley, her face awash with pleasure at his company. Mr. Darcy's gaze went immediately to Elizabeth, though he offered Lydia a brief greeting.
“Off with you!” Mrs. Bennet cried, handing baskets to the ladies. “I expect Longbourn to be festooned with pine boughs, ribbons, kissing boughs, holly, ivy, and more. When you return, we shall have chocolate with tea and biscuits.”
Kitty and Lydia ran out the front door, their tender ages obvious in their excitement. Mary decided to remain and practice carols. Bingley and Jane departed as well, with Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth following behind.
“You take the wood, Elizabeth,” Jane instructed. “Goodness knows, you know the paths better than anyone! Mr. Darcy, will you accompany her?” The twinkle in Jane's eye made her sister suspicious, but she said nothing.
Mr. Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, and they set out.
***
DARCY
They walked in silence. Darcy did not know what to say, but hoped for an opportunity to beg Elizabeth's forgiveness.
He worried she harbored deep dislike, and her behavior, always above reproach, had never shown her true feelings.
Unable to bear it another moment, he stopped walking and turned to face her.
“I cannot go another moment without offering my apologies for my boorish behavior. First, I insult you, a lady who I had never met, and then I disdain all those around me. I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth, for everything. You are far more than tolerable. It has been some time since I considered you the handsomest woman of my acquaintance.” He fell silent, his gaze searching her face for any signs of forgiveness.
Elizabeth's cheeks were delightfully pink, and her eyes sparkled.
“Thank you, sir. I confess, my feelings have undergone a drastic change these last weeks. Events have caused me to second guess everything I thought I knew -about you and about other newcomers to our society.”
Darcy knew she meant Wickham. “My former friend has spread his tales of misuse. I became aware of them at Lucas Lodge. One overheard conversation informed me that my behavior, paired with his falsehoods, stood to besmirch the Darcy name permanently.” He shook his head.
“I confess, I cannot look upon my past behavior with anything but abhorrence. My parents taught me good principles but left me to follow them in pride and conceit.”
“Your efforts to make amends have not gone unnoticed,” Elizabeth replied, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. “Charlotte urged me to pay attention, and so I have. I have seen much to admire in you, sir, and hope we can be friends now.”
Her words were like a shot to his heart. “I do not wish to be friends, Elizabeth,” he murmured. “It is not enough. May I… Is it too much to ask for a courtship? I would ask a very different question if I thought you would reply in the affirmative.”
Her eyes glistened with happiness. “I do not love you yet, sir, but I know myself. Yes, a courtship will do nicely. May we keep it to ourselves for now? Mama is still lavishing attention on Jane and Mr. Bingley. I would hate to turn it in our direction.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously, and he laughed.
Darcy offered his arm again, and she took it. “I have more to say about Mr. Wickham,” he confessed when they stopped to cut some mistletoe. “He is not a gentleman where young ladies are concerned. The man cares not who he harms and will ruin a gentleman’s daughter as easily as a milkmaid.”
Elizabeth's heart seized. “It is not safe to have him among us,” she cried. “What can we do?”
“I confess, I have wondered the same thing. I understand he is courting a local heiress -Miss Mary King. He will marry her and squander her fortune before abandoning her.” Darcy grimaced.
“I cannot, in good conscience, leave him to his usual work. Wickham has likely run up debts with every merchant in town, too.”
“Miss King has an uncle in Liverpool,” Elizabeth mused. “Perhaps an anonymous note to him would be a good start. And a private word of caution to merchants. That should be enough for now.”