Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
The next morning Elizabeth set out early to visit Mrs. Smith. Millie walked beside her, each carrying a small basket.
Elizabeth particularly wished for an early start, partly because the day promised to be busy, but chiefly because she hoped to avoid Mr. Collins as much as possible. He had become relentless in seeking her out, cheerfully detailing the advantages she would enjoy at his parsonage.
The mere thought brought on a headache. She dismissed it. It was far better to enjoy the freedom of the open air. The autumn day was mild, and the walk pleasant.
They were not far from Mrs. Smith’s cottage when a man stepped into the path before them.
Mr. Wickham stood there in his red uniform, a ready smile upon his face. “Miss Elizabeth. How fortunate that I should meet you again.”
Elizabeth halted and regarded him steadily. “Mr. Wickham. I was not aware the militia afforded so much leisure.”
He placed a hand lightly against his chest. “You are severe, madam. “I had hoped our previous acquaintance might warrant a warmer reception.”
“And why should that be? We have met but once.”
He took a step nearer. “And yet you made such an impression upon me.”
Elizabeth did not smile. “I wish you a good day, sir. I have business to attend to.” She moved to pass him.
He grabbed her wrist. “Wait. I would warn you.”
Elizabeth’s gaze dropped briefly to his hand, then returned to his face. Her voice was quiet and precise. “You will release me immediately.”
He did so, though not without a moment's hesitation. “You do not understand. There are matters concerning Mr. Darcy…”
Elizabeth did not allow him to continue. “You will leave Longbourn property at once. Should I find you here again without proper cause, I shall speak to Colonel Foster.” She held his gaze without wavering. “Do I make myself understood?”
Wickham’s expression darkened. For a moment he said nothing. Then he turned and strode away down the path.
Elizabeth watched until he was out of sight. Only then did she draw a breath she had not known she held.
Millie spoke softly. “I did not like him, miss. But you were very brave.”
Elizabeth shook her head slightly. "I preferred not to discover how brave I might be required to be.” She adjusted the basket in her hand. “Come. Mrs. Smith will be expecting us.”
***
Elizabeth and Millie had just left Mrs. Smith’s cottage when Mr. Darcy rode up.
“Good day, ladies.”
Elizabeth inclined her head. “Good day, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy studied her closely, his expression tightening. “What has happened? Are you well?”
He dismounted at once.
“I am quite well, sir.”
He reached for her hand, turning her wrist gently. “There is a bruise.” His jaw set. “Miss Elizabeth, if any man has harmed you…”
Elizabeth glanced down at her wrist. “It is nothing. I had not even noticed…” She looked up again with a composed smile. “I am quite well.”
Darcy did not appear persuaded.
Millie spoke before Elizabeth could continue. “’Tis that soldier. He grabbed her wrist.”
Elizabeth gave her a reproving look, then turned back to Darcy.
His expression had altered completely. It was no longer merely concerned, but dark with controlled anger. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “Pray tell me what occurred.”
“It was not so serious,” Elizabeth said. “Mr. Wickham stepped onto the path and wished to speak with me. I required him to leave, and he did so.”
Millie remained silent, though her expression suggested she did not agree.
Darcy released Elizabeth’s hand slowly. “Would you allow me to escort you home? I should be far easier in mind knowing you arrived safely.”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Thank you. I should like that.”
They set off toward Longbourn, Darcy’s horse following behind at a measured pace.
After a short distance, Elizabeth glanced back with a faint smile. “Your horse is very well behaved.”
“He and I have been together many years,” Darcy replied. After a pause, he added more quietly, “Miss Elizabeth, you are a remarkable woman. Yet if I may offer a small caution, while the militia remain nearby, it would be prudent to have a groom attend you when you go out on estate business.”
Elizabeth considered this. “You may be right.”
They soon reached Longbourn. Darcy paused near the side of the house. “I wonder if you might spare me a few minutes. There is something I have long wished to tell you. Is there somewhere we might speak privately?”
“Of course.”
They walked to the flower garden. The season had faded most of its colour, though a bench remained beneath the bare branches. Millie stood at a respectful distance, within sight but out of hearing.
Elizabeth sat. Darcy remained standing for a moment, then paced slowly before stopping before her. “Did Mr. Wickham speak to you of his history with me?”
“He mentioned that his godfather intended him for a living,” Elizabeth said. “But that after the gentleman’s death, the arrangement did not take place. I suggested he consult my uncle, who is in the law, or seek another opportunity. He did not appear inclined to either.”
Darcy nodded. “Mr. Wickham was my father’s godson, and my father held him in great regard. In his will, he expressed a wish that Wickham be assisted in establishing a career, and suggested that a living might be offered, should he take orders.”
He paused. “I had observed aspects of Wickham’s character that my father did not. I attempted to make them known, but his affection prevented him from believing me.”
“Such as?” Elizabeth asked quietly.
“Debts. Gambling. And the ruin of young women.”
Elizabeth’s expression stilled.
“Six months after my father’s death, Wickham returned. He had already been left one thousand pounds. He declared he had no intention of entering the church, and instead requested the value of the living.”
“And you gave it to him?”
“I did. Three thousand pounds.”
Elizabeth shook her head slightly. “More than sufficient to establish himself, had he chosen to do so.”
Darcy inclined his head. “He did not.”
He drew a breath before continuing. “This past summer, my sister Georgiana, who is ten years younger than I, travelled to Ramsgate with a companion. That woman was secretly in league with Wickham.”
Elizabeth’s hand tightened in her lap. “No…”
“He followed. He persuaded her that he loved her and convinced her they should elope.”
Elizabeth leaned forward. “Please tell me…”
“She is safe,” Darcy said at once. “I arrived before the attempt. She confessed everything immediately. Wickham was dismissed, and the companion sent away. But my sister has not yet recovered her spirits.”
Elizabeth was silent for a moment.
“What I do not understand,” she said slowly, “is why he wished to speak with me.”
Darcy exhaled. “That may be my doing. He has likely perceived my interest in you.”
Elizabeth looked up. “Interest?”
Darcy hesitated only briefly. “Yes.” He gestured toward the bench. “May I?”
She nodded.
He sat beside her. After a moment, he said quietly, “Am I welcome?”
Elizabeth hesitated, then met his gaze. “I have very much enjoyed your company. I had not considered that you might mean more than friendship.”
“Elizabeth,” he said gently.
She smiled, a little more certain now. “Yes. You are welcome. I am glad you are here.”
Darcy rose. “Should I speak to your father regarding Wickham? He is not a man to be trusted.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I am not certain my father would treat the matter with the seriousness it deserves.”
Darcy frowned. “But your safety…”
“Yes, precautions will be necessary,” she said thoughtfully. “But first, I believe we should speak with Charlotte Lucas.”
“Miss Lucas?” Darcy asked.
Elizabeth stood. “You will understand presently. We shall call on her this evening.”
Darcy’s expression shifted. “Ah. Yes.” He inclined his head. “An excellent plan.”
***
Shortly after luncheon, Mr. Bennet had returned to his favorite chair. He was debating between a short nap and another chapter of his book when there came a knock at the door, immediately followed by Mr. Collins entering the room.
Mr. Collins approached with great solemnity. “Mr. Bennet, I feel I must speak with you.”
Mr. Bennet removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Again?”
Mr. Collins looked momentarily disconcerted. “Yes. I believe I should review the ledgers.”
“And why is that?”
Mr. Collins seemed taken aback by the question. “Well… because I am to inherit. As the future master of Longbourn, it is surely proper that I acquaint myself with its accounts.”
Mr. Bennet waved a languid hand. “The ledgers, Mr. Collins? My dear sir, I would not dream of burdening you with such tedious reading.”
Mr. Collins drew himself up. “I fail to understand why I am denied this request.”
“My dear Mr. Collins,” Mr. Bennet replied evenly, “when the estate becomes yours, you may examine the ledgers to your heart’s content. Until that unfortunate day, I shall spare you the trouble.”
Mr. Collins hesitated, as though unwilling to relinquish the subject, before making a small sound of indignation and quitting the room, the door closing rather more forcefully than necessary behind him.
Mr. Bennet settled back into his chair with evident satisfaction. A nap, he decided, was unquestionably the better choice.
***
Mrs. Hurst smothered a sigh as Caroline swept into the drawing room and dropped into a chair beside her sister. “This ball of Charles’s is a dreadful idea. We must persuade him to abandon it.”
Mrs. Hurst glanced up from the fashion book she had been idly turning through. “Caroline, the ball is tomorrow. It cannot possibly be cancelled now. Do try to be sensible.”
“I am perfectly sensible. Charles is giving Miss Bennet far too much attention.”
Mrs. Hurst gave a small shrug. “She seems pleasant enough.”
Caroline made an impatient gesture. “It is not a question of whether she is pleasant. The question is whether she improves Charles’s standing in society. If only he would consider someone like Miss Darcy.”