Chapter 18 #2
She walked on and was surprised to find a horse tied to a tree.
Puzzled, she looked around, but there was no one in sight.
She walked a little farther, when she heard some strange sounds, then whispered voices.
A few steps more and she finally spotted something on the ground, hidden behind a tree: a blanket placed upon a bed of leaves.
A form was lying on it, covered with something, and Elizabeth assumed somebody was hurt.
She hurried forwards, calling out to ask whether they required aid.
A small cry and some frantic movement were the reply.
Under the blanket, not one but two bodies struggled; there were some inarticulate whispers, then finally Elizabeth understood what was happening.
The shock was so powerful that she stepped back, her foot slid, and she barely manage to grasp a branch to prevent herself from falling.
From under the blanket, with terrified, panicked eyes, Charlotte Lucas was staring at her.
Next to her, with his shirt unbuttoned, lay Mr Wickham.
The sort of activities the two were engaged in was obvious, though Elizabeth still refused to accept it.
Struggling to keep her composure, she said, “I am sorry…I apologise,” then turned away and hurried her steps, her head spinning in disbelief.
“Eliza! Eliza, wait! Wait! Please wait!”
She finally stopped, and Charlotte caught her. She was wearing all her clothes, except for her bonnet, and her boots were untied. Fortunately, Mr Wickham was somewhere behind, and Elizabeth was not forced to face him too.
“Eliza, wait…I can explain…”
“Dear Lord, no, please do not explain anything! I do not want to hear. I do not want to know. I want to forget this meeting ever happened.”
“I imagine you are appalled because you are always quick to judge everybody. Things are not always as they seem,” Charlotte said, lowering her voice and her eyes.
“Charlotte, do not believe me a fool, and do not make me out to be the guilty party! You were alone with Mr Wickham, your clothing in disarray, and you have just become engaged to another man. That is the truth, not my judgment.”
“Will you tell anyone what you saw? Will you betray me?”
Charlotte’s voice was barely audible, and Elizabeth felt pity for her. The confident, wise woman who was her friend seemed to have disappeared. She continued, softening her voice.
“My dear friend, I know Mr Collins is not the best choice, but at least he has a decent living, he is honourable, and he will probably be an attentive husband. Mr Wickham is nothing but a scoundrel who only seeks his own gain with no consideration for those he might hurt. You might not have been happy with Mr Collins, but you surely will not be happy with Mr Wickham, if he agrees to marry you.”
“Marry Mr Wickham? Eliza, what are you talking about? I have no intention of marrying Mr Wickham! I shall marry Mr Collins, as planned. Unless you betray me and use this knowledge to ruin my future.”
Elizabeth was now utterly dumbfounded, incredulous, astounded.
“But…I do not understand…then why?”
“Why? Because I have never been the object of a man’s admiration. Because I might never be. Because my life will not offer me the chance to enjoy the company of a man desired by other women!”
“Charlotte…Mr Wickham is not the man—”
“He is precisely the man who can provide me with some entertainment until I marry the most tiresome and infuriating of men and am forced to bear his company. Do not look at me that way, Eliza. And do not dare judge me! I am being honest with you, as I cannot be with anyone else. Will you betray me? If you tell your family, everyone will find out, and my life will be ruined. My future depends on you.”
“Of course I shall not tell anyone, Charlotte. This meeting never happened. But if you want confidence, you must worry about Mr Wickham. From what I have heard, honour, loyalty, and discretion are not his strongest qualities.”
“Do not worry about him, Eliza.”
“I worry about you, Charlotte. I was worried when I heard of your engagement, and now I am truly frightened. I pray you will be happy.”
“I have already told you that I plan to be as happy as I can, considering the circumstances.”
“We shall leave for London in three days’ time. We may not see each other again soon.”
“I wish you a lovely time. I hope you will return before my wedding.”
“I wish you all the best, Charlotte,” Elizabeth responded, then sketched a poor smile and walked on.
In such a perturbed state of mind as she was, Elizabeth could hardly move her feet. What she had seen was quite unreal — something she would never have imagined or believed. As she quickened her pace, the wind seemed to blow harder and colder, and her bewilderment deepened.
That Charlotte had allowed herself to be seduced by a scoundrel was scarcely credible.
That she had done so a fortnight after she became betrothed was incomprehensible.
But the fact that Charlotte had not lost her mind to seduction, that she was well aware of her actions and their consequences, was confusing and alarming.
Of course, she would tell nobody; she had promised, and she would not dare to tell anyone in any case — not even Jane, not even her father. She was too ashamed of her friend, and even of herself for witnessing the scene.
Shockingly, she felt she might have gathered the courage to tell Mr Darcy; he would understand without too many details.
Fortunately, Mr Darcy was not there, and she hoped — she prayed — she would have the strength to forget the entire dreadful event before she saw him.
She was not so lucky, though. The scene remained clear in her mind, and even more so Charlotte’s words — which were equally pitiful and appalling.
She tried not to judge, as her friend demanded; in truth, she did not know what was in Charlotte’s heart and mind.
Charlotte had always claimed she was not romantic, but still she seemed to have desired romantic interludes.
After many hours of reflection, she gained a little bit of comfort in the notion that Charlotte was not a victim of Mr Wickham’s deception and that he had not hurt her.
How she would bear her marriage to Mr Collins was a painful question to which Elizabeth had no answer, so she forced herself to put it aside.
The journey to London began on a cold, cloudy morning, immediately after breakfast, and Elizabeth left Hertfordshire and the worries attached to it behind.
They arrived in town around five o’clock in the afternoon, and Elizabeth — as well as her sisters — was enchanted to see the animated streets, shops, and houses.
The carriage stopped in front of Lord Matlock’s house. It was a large, impressive, elegant white building, situated among many similar ones, all lit by torches.
It was dark already, but there was much light and much bustle around. Unlike their small town, London was animated and lively, even at that hour.
“You are finally here! I am so glad to see you all! Come in!” Lord Matlock welcomed them with much enthusiasm.
Behind him, Elizabeth spotted two young gentlemen, looking at them curiously, and Mr Darcy, who gazed at her with a little smile that twisted the corners of his lips and brought dimples to his cheeks.