Chapter VI #2
“Without disguise,” replied the colonel easily. “I cannot yet say where it will lead, but I assure you that I am not Bingley. I will not pay her attention for two months and then disappear.”
The colonel leaned forward in the attitude of offering a secret and said: “I could not do so even if I wanted, for the army would track me down and drag me back to the peninsula.”
Elizabeth turned serious for a moment. “Do you think that is likely?”
“Unknown at present,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“My convalescence will consume at least two or three more months, if not more. As the new commander of my regiment has, by now, gained the trust of the men, it is not wise to alter the command structure in the middle of a campaign. Thus, I suspect I will be assigned a new regiment when I am again fit for duty, though what that will mean for my future I do not know.”
It was at that moment that Elizabeth understood the true quality of this man.
Having been injured in battle, it would be understandable if he had no wish to return to his profession, and his position as the son of an earl meant that option was open to him, particularly given his mother’s obvious interest in him avoiding danger in the future.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, did not appear fearful or even concerned by the possibility.
That, of course, presented its own challenges, and Elizabeth did not refrain from stating her concern.
“That is worrisome, colonel,” whispered she.
The colonel appeared to understand her meaning—he continued to regard her, but he did not speak, allowing her to explain herself.
“If you capture Jane’s heart, she must endure the possibility of your returning to duty and the danger it entails.”
“Trust me, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, no trace of the amiable gentleman remaining, “I have thought of that myself. However, at some time or another, this interminable war with France will end. If I remain in my position, the end of the war will mean that I can retire with half pay, which will help our future situation. It is a conundrum, for I have no desire to leave my future wife a widow, but it is still my profession.”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” murmured Elizabeth.
With a nod, the colonel changed the subject. “That is not what I wished to speak about, Miss Elizabeth, for I deem it is yet premature. What I wish to discuss is your dealings with my cousin.”
“Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth. When he nodded, she said: “Have we not already spoken of him?”
“We have, but I sense you have not told me all.” Colonel Fitzwilliam offered a shrug.
“With my cousin, I am well acquainted, Miss Elizabeth, so I can guess something of his activities here. Yet, the antipathy you seem to hold for him does not match his usual behavior, even considering Wickham’s loathsome tales.
Will you not tell me what he has done to offend you? ”
“Is there any reason to do so?” asked Elizabeth.
“There is, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, “so that I may box his ears the next time I see him.”
The notion struck Elizabeth as diverting, and she laughed along with him.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jane watching them, and while others might worry about even a sister trying to steal her man, Jane was not that sort of woman.
She smiled at them, then turned back to the two young Gardiner children with whom she was playing.
“Then I shall tell you, Colonel, though I warn you to brace yourself. Mr. Darcy behaved abominably when he was here.”
The colonel grinned at her, but did not reply, allowing her to speak.
Elizabeth told him of Mr. Darcy’s behavior, the aloofness, the arguments at Netherfield, and Mr. Darcy sitting next to poor Mrs. Long for a half hour without saying a word.
Then she recounted the assembly and the comment Mr. Darcy had made to Mr. Bingley, embellishing it to provoke the colonel’s laughter.
When she had said all she meant to say, he remained silent for several moments, considering what she said.
“That is Darcy in the smallest degree, Miss Elizabeth,” said he at length. “The slight at the assembly is a little out of character for him, but I have often heard him complain of Bingley’s attempts to induce him to be more sociable, so I shall attribute it to that.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam took her hand and squeezed it with affection. “The truth about Darcy is that he is uncomfortable in company with whom he is not well acquainted, and sometimes he allows his distaste for mingling to overcome his better nature.”
“So he does not look down on his company from his lofty perch?” asked Elizabeth, using a lightness of tone she did not feel.
“No, you know enough about him to understand that Darcy thinks very well of himself,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a chuckle.
“But he is not all pride and caprice. In fact, Darcy is an excellent man, for he is steady, capable, the firmest friend when he warms enough to bestow his loyalty, and as conscientious a man as I have ever met.”
Elizabeth considered this for several moments, then nodded. “Now that Mr. Wickham’s tales are revealed as falsehood, I realize that the unchristian tendencies he attributed to Mr. Darcy cannot be true. I never suspected him of true wrongdoing, only of having enough pride for ten men.
“What I cannot reconcile now is this business of Mr. Bingley’s failure to return.” Elizabeth smiled. “While I cannot object to how matters fell out, it still seems to me that Mr. Darcy had something to do with his friend’s departure.”
“Darcy has said nothing to me on the subject, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. “If you ask him, I suspect his answer will be more nuanced than a simple disapproval of your sister.”
“Ah, but I do not know when I shall be in Mr. Darcy’s company again, though I suppose that if you propose to my sister, it is inevitable.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s gaze was unreadable. “That may come about sooner than you suppose, Miss Elizabeth.”
THIS ALL LED TO THE morning two days after Christmas.
Some time contemplating the colonel’s words told Elizabeth that he expected Mr. Darcy to come to Hertfordshire, the supposition proven when the cousins entered Longbourn’s sitting-room together.
As Elizabeth was the only member of her family who had an inkling of the gentleman’s coming—she had not shared her suspicions with her family—she was the only one not surprised.
“Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet with more shock than sense. “We had no notion of your presence in Hertfordshire.”
Proving his cousin’s comments correct, Mr. Darcy appeared uncomfortable, though he did not hesitate to respond. “Fitzwilliam called me here to assist with a matter of urgency. I arrived yesterday.”
No one in the room misunderstood the gentleman’s comment. Mrs. Bennet invited them to sit with the family and called for tea. Though one might think her garrulity rendered her the most likely person in the room to speak, another claimed that right.
“Is Mr. Wickham so wholly unworthy, Mr. Darcy?” asked Lydia.
“Yes, Miss Lydia,” said Mr. Darcy, not hesitating for a moment. “Wickham is the sort of man who takes everything he can and cares little about the pain or hardship he causes by his actions.”
Mr. Darcy paused for a moment, then squared his shoulders as if facing a most unpleasant duty.
“I should like to apologize to you all. As my history with Wickham is distasteful, I try to keep my distance from him. That is no excuse, of course—I should have considered better, should have thought of the trouble he might cause in Meryton. For my oversight, I apologize without reservation.”
“I speak for my family in expressing my appreciation, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet, all gravity in place of his usual sardonic amusement.
“Given what I know of your history with the man, I understand your reticence in this matter. That you have now acted, with the support of your excellent cousin, is a relief, and quite balances the scales, I should think.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, appearing appreciative. “As for Wickham, you will no longer need to concern yourself for him—Wickham departed Meryton this morning with an armed detachment escorting him.”
“What will become of him?” asked Elizabeth.
Colonel Fitzwilliam took the opportunity to respond.
“As Darcy and I both understand Wickham’s character, we recommended against transferring Wickham to the front lines to fight against the French.
There is nothing worse than entering battle beside a man you cannot trust. Though the final decision is yet pending, I suspect Wickham is bound for the penal colony in Botany Bay, where at least he may be of some use. ”
“It is a sad ending for a man my father esteemed,” said Mr. Darcy. “But it is not undeserved.”
“No, I dare say it is not,” agreed Mr. Bennet. “If I were to offer my opinion, I suspect it is much less than you might have meted to him had you been of a mind.”
“Had I been of a mind,” murmured Mr. Darcy, “Wickham would have spent the last five years of his life in the Marshalsea.”
“Then that is all that needs to be said about that subject,” said Mr. Bennet. “I think I join with Mrs. Bennet in suggesting we conduct our visit engaged in other, more interesting conversation. George Wickham is now a firm part of the past—let us treat him as such.”
“I cannot agree more, Mr. Bennet,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
So saying, the colonel turned to Jane, and they began to speak, though they did not exclude those in proximity to them. It was another contrast with Mr. Bingley’s behavior when in residence, for that gentleman had never had any attention to spare for anyone else when Jane was nearby.
The interesting sight was how Mr. Darcy responded.
Having seen Mr. Bingley in Jane’s company for two months and knowing his cousin well, it seemed Mr. Darcy had noted Colonel Fitzwilliam’s position at once, his expression unreadable.
Though Elizabeth could not be certain, she thought he had not known of his cousin’s interest—she understood something of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s reasons for not informing him, but that did not tell her how Mr. Darcy would react to it.
She did not think he would protest much, for his cousin was a man who would not endure interference.
That brought her suspicion about Mr. Darcy’s influence on Mr. Bingley and that gentleman’s failure to return to Hertfordshire to mind again.
While it might be foolish to belabor that point—Elizabeth suspected Mr. Bingley was no longer a consideration for her sister—she thought it worthwhile to obtain the gentleman’s perspective, if only to understand him better.
For some time after the company put aside discussion of Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy stood with Mr. Bennet in conversation, though Elizabeth thought she detected his continuing unease.
A short time later, when Mr. Bennet left the room, Mr. Darcy appeared uncertain what he should do.
When he spied Elizabeth, he moved to her side, which suited Elizabeth’s purpose.
Unfortunately, their conversation did not proceed as she wished.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said he in greeting. “I wished to extend my apologies to you directly. Given our conversation at Netherfield the night of the ball, I understood Wickham plied you with tales of his injuries at my hand. I should have given a more substantial warning.”
“Thank you for saying that, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. “In the end, I have no injuries to resent, for though Mr. Wickham misled me, he attempted nothing further than that.”
Mr. Darcy regarded her, an earnest sort of expression. “I will own that part of my reason for not being more explicit, other than my general antipathy for Wickham, was my firmest belief in your discernment and your morality. Even if you believed Wickham, I knew he could not deceive you for long.”
Flattered at Mr. Darcy’s praise despite herself, Elizabeth replied: “I thank you for that, sir, though I will note that I did believe Mr. Wickham. In this, I have learned a lesson—I should have been more suspicious of a new acquaintance, yet I behaved as a girl of five and allowed him to spin his tales.”
“You could have no suspicion of him,” protested Mr. Darcy.
“I should have suspected,” insisted Elizabeth.
“What sort of man betrays such a confidence so early in an acquaintance unless he means mischief? Your defense is appreciated, but I would ask you to please allow me to feel the weight of my error. It has taught me something, so I shall not count it a wasted experience.”
“What is a life lived well but to learn from mistakes and resolve not to repeat them?” was Mr. Darcy’s rhetorical reply. “It is well that you have seen the error in your behavior. I hope that I can do the same.”
A far warmer feeling than she had ever felt for this man entered her heart. “I am certain you shall, Mr. Darcy.”
“Then I hope you will allow me to make a fresh start.” Mr. Darcy smiled, an offer that quite became him. “It would please me if you would allow me to prove myself a better man than I have shown.”
“Of proof, I believe I need little,” said Elizabeth. “However, if you wish to proceed with friendlier relations and mutual respect, I am not at all averse.”
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. Then, shall we speak of something else? What say you to books?”
Elizabeth laughed, recalling the exchange at the ball, and fell into conversation with Mr. Darcy. It was the most civil discussion they had ever shared.