Chapter 12
Elizabeth felt her spirits in some agitation as the hour of her sister’s arrival drew near.
In hopes of diverting her thoughts she resolved to spend the greater part of the day visiting Charlotte; and to her surprise found Colonel Fitzwilliam engaged in conversation with that lady, whilst a maid sat discreetly in a distant corner of the room employed in quiet mending.
Charlotte’s appearance was greatly improved.
A livelier bloom had returned to her cheek, and she was supported by an arrangement of pillows which afforded her both comfort and ease.
Yet she looked thin beyond what was expected of an expecting lady, her pregnant belly looking too small for her advanced confinement.
Which indicated to Elizabeth she was not quite out of danger yet.
The three friends spent a pleasant hour, with the Colonel making the ladies laugh at his embellished tales of the war.
When the beef broth arrived for Charlotte he excused himself and Elizabeth proceeded to help her friend.
They avoided the subject of Mr Collins’ complete absence. The fact that the man had not visited his wife was a glaring gap. But it seemed the Colonel had seamlessly filled that gap, which was also avoided.
Elizabeth requested a luncheon tray of some bread and cheese, so she could remain with her friend, but once Charlotte reclined and closed her eyes in obvious desire to rest, Elizabeth left the bedchamber and went to the library.
In the library she found Mr Darcy writing some letters.
“Oh. Excuse me, sir. I did not mean to intrude.”
“Miss Elizabeth, please come in, this is a public room, if I wished to have solitude I would have chosen to write my letters in my own bedchamber.” He smiled at her with those blasted dimples that discombobulated her so often.
She averted her eyes and went to the shelves to select a book that would hopefully distract her from dimples, from Jane’s arrival, from Mr and Mrs Collins and whatever else occupied her mind.
She chose a recently published poetry book by a Jewish-Anglo author called A.
Weisman, which examined the British Culture from a foreign perspective.
Before long Elizabeth lost herself in Mr Weisman’s words and absentmindedly lifted her feet and tucked them under her skirt as she made herself comfortable on the settee.
The library was so quiet that it seemed both occupants had fallen asleep. But when Elizabeth casually turned her eyes to look at Mr Darcy she found him staring at her with a burning gaze and lips parted. She blushed to the point of feeling her face burn.
She decided that teasing him was better than feeling embarrassed, “Have I left cheese crumbs on my face Mr Darcy?” She said rubbing her face gently.
He looked embarrassed, “I beg your pardon Miss Elizabeth. I was momentarily distracted... ermm... your beauty madam can be very disconcerting, especially when one needs to concentrate on boring business letters.”
She blinked and lowered her feet to the ground, “I beg your pardon Mr Darcy, I did not mean to interrupt your work sir.” She said, misunderstanding his remark.
He smiled, “It was a very welcome interruption.”
She frowned, finally focusing on the words spoken only moments before, “I always understood that my tolerable beauty was nothing to tempt you sir, let alone distract you from something important.” She teased.
“Miss Elizabeth your failure to read me properly is sometimes hard to understand, since you are so apt at reading other people so efficiently.”
“I do not need to read you Mr Darcy since you are so good as to tell me with such explicit language exactly what you are feeling regarding me, my appearance and my family.”
He winced as if in pain. “Miss Elizabeth I cannot tell you how sorry I am to know that you heard my ridiculous words at the assembly when we first met.”
“I think you said it with the explicit desire that I hear you... and the entire neighbourhood as well.”
He got up abruptly and walked to her and threw himself at her feet, “Madam I truly beg your pardon for such a vindictive and obvious blatant falsehood. There is not an ounce of truth in those despicable words.”
She tried to shrink from him, “Mr Darcy, sir, please get up.” She looked nervously at the closed door, “Should we be found in this position it would be misconstrued and it could get us both into some real trouble with your aunt and your betrothed.”
He blinked confused, “Betrothed?”
“Miss de Bourgh, sir.”
“Miss Elizabeth, madam, you are mistaken. I am not now bound to Anne, nor have I ever been.” He said getting up and raking his hair in obvious agitation.
“But your aunt...”
“Likes to dictate people’s lives, as I am certain you have noticed it yourself. But it has little connection to reality.”
“What about Miss de Bourgh herself, does she agree with you on the matter?” Elizabeth asked, incredulous.
He frowned. “I do not know. I have actively avoided her from the time I understood what my aunt had designed for us. In consequence I have never taken the trouble to ask Anne how she feels about the matter.”
“Do you think that is fair Mr Darcy?”
“No it is not.” He said reflective.
“I suspected you never considered the feelings of those beneath you, but I am surprised to see that you are not much better to those of your own sphere.”
He turned to her and fixed her with a hard glare, “I am aware Miss Bennet, that you have a very poor opinion of me, but other than the situation between Bingley and your sister can you name another situation in which I hurt another for my own amusement?”
“Yes I can.” She said in a firm voice, “Your treatment of Mr Wickham. It is the perfect example of a malicious rich man who takes revenge on an underling, simply because he does not like him.”
Darcy’s mouth dropped open and for a few seconds he simply stared at her in bewilderment.
“What can you have to say on that subject? Under what imaginary act of friendship can you defend yourself?”
“You take an eager interest on that gentleman’s concerns.” Said Darcy in a louder voice and heightened colour.
As Elizabeth opened her mouth to retort angrily, the door opened and Mr Gibbs entered, “Excuse me Mr Darcy,” Then turning to Elizabeth, he said, “Miss Bennet, your sister has arrived.”
Elizabeth got up in one jump and without looking at Darcy she ran out of the library.
***
Darcy was left reeling.
He could not understand how a flirtatious moment had turned sour so quickly. Her words were meant to cut him and she did a marvellous job, for he was left bleeding upon the hearth.
He felt it was a hopeless case.
Richard had instructed him to woo the lady with romantic words and flattery, but she would have none of it. She was determined to think the worst of him. The sooner he fixed one misunderstanding there were two or three new ones to deal with.
He decided he must address this new accusation as soon as possible.
There was no time to lose. Unfortunately Georgiana’s secret was going to have to be shared for he knew that Elizabeth was resolved against him.
Unless the bare truth of Wickham’s character was revealed, he himself would remain the villain while the miscreant Wickham the hero.
There was nothing for it; Wickham had to be exposed in the eyes of all the people he had managed to charm. It was actually very disturbing to see Elizabeth, bright and intelligent Elizabeth be taken in by the likes of George Wickham, a man who was nothing but a liar and a rake.
He wondered why Wickham had set his sights on his very own Elizabeth.
She had no dowry to speak of, while he did not normally meddle with gentle women, unless they were heiresses with impressive fortunes.
He never took the risk with the lower gentry, but not because he cared about them.
No, he only cared about money. He lived his life from one scheme to another; he never did anything without a purpose and the purpose never varied.
So why Elizabeth? The many women he used for his own personal, sick pleasure were, unwavering, farm girls, or inn or scullery maids. He made no distinction but he never paid for the services of a professional either.
Darcy was puzzled by this, but one thing he understood clearly was the fact that he owed the people of Meryton the truth about Wickham.
He should have done it when he was first there.
If he had exposed the libertine when they were all in Hertfordshire he would have had one less thing to put to rights with Elizabeth, while the neighbourhood would have been a lot safer too.
This was entirely his own fault, all because of his insufferable pride; now he was paying for it with interest.
***
Elizabeth ran into one of the many small parlours of the grand old house and into the arms of her sister.
“Jane how good it is to see you.”
“Lizzy!” Jane held on to her sister. “I was so surprised to get your letter. How is Charlotte? Please do not tell me that I am too late.”
“What?”
“Charlotte, how is she?”
“Oh, no, no, she is not at death's door. I am sorry if I led you to believe that she was in great peril, though she is still very weak. I… I just needed… ermmm… emotional support.
“Emotional support... Lizzy, are you well?”
Elizabeth bit her lower lip in uneasiness, “Let me show you to your bedchamber Jane, there will be time to talk later. I am sure you want to refresh yourself and rest a little before dinner.”
As the sisters were removing themselves from the parlour Mr Collins was exiting Lady Catherine’s private sitting room. “Cousin Jane! What are you doing here?” Mr Collins asked, startled, without bothering with the smallest attempt at civility.
Jane blanched, “Mr Collins how good it is to see you. How are you sir? I hope you are not too distressed by Charlotte’s illness.”