Chapter 11
“I must say, I did not believe you when you first told us, Wickham,” a male voice said. “Everybody says Miss Elizabeth despises Darcy! Lydia and Kitty have said so a hundred times!”
“She might have despised him once, but money always changes a woman’s opinion. Especially one with no dowry and no connections.”
“But she is charming. Even you said as much, Wickham. And if her sister marries Bingley…”
“If her sister marries Bingley. If! I understand Bingley will leave soon, and I have heard of no engagement.”
“True…”
“As for Elizabeth, she is pretty, charming, and delightful. I would not mind spending more time with her. Yet, she cannot expect a decent marriage proposal, so Darcy’s offer might have been the best she could hope for,” Wickham’s voice claimed.
Darcy glanced at his companions, panicked, horrified, hurrying to close the window, but Mr Bennet grabbed his coat sleeve and indicated that he should keep silent.
Furthermore, Mr Bennet moved to another chair nearer the window, so he could better hear.
The admiral seemed shocked and ready to leap into action, so Mr Bennet repeated his gesture for him.
“Still, Wickham, why would Darcy expose himself in such a manner by meeting her in the woods and now dancing with her? And visiting her father? And what about the admiral? He has spent the evening with Mr Bennet. They seem to be friends.”
“That is strange, I admit. The admiral is an army man and a man of the world. He knows how these things are settled. As for Darcy, he is not acting like himself. The witty Miss Lizzy might have something special that Darcy likes. I wonder what it is…”
“Some puppies, I heard,” another voice said, followed by a peal of laughter.
“Perhaps Darcy will marry her, after all!”
“Do not be an idiot, Denny. I have known Darcy all his life. He would never marry into that poor and ridiculous family! Can you imagine taking his mother-in-law and sisters to Pemberley? Or to his box at the theatre with Lord Matlock? He would be the laughingstock of London! Besides, he is engaged to his sickly cousin Anne.”
“True…”
“I know only too well what I speak of. Nobody knows Darcy better than I do,” Wickham concluded.
“I shall rip him apart,” Darcy said and burst out of the library. Looking back briefly, he saw Mr Bennet looking pale, breathing irregularly, his hands grasping his glass as he stared at the rug.
Enraged, Darcy disregarded the people staring at him as he strode along the hall.
His head was spinning, and he was trembling with anger, disgust, shame, and resentment that he did not even try to suppress; his entire being screamed for revenge.
Once out of doors, he hesitated for a moment, wondering where the group of scoundrels were, and he moved around the house until he heard voices and laughter.
He did not even dare imagine what further horrible things were being said and heard by Mr Bennet, but he would stop it all in a few moments.
As he approached, he saw Wickham, Denny, and Pratt. They were smoking and drinking, still laughing. Seeing him, surprise silenced them, and they looked momentarily bewildered, glancing at each other, then at Darcy.
Wickham took a step back, while Darcy stepped forwards. He took a deep breath, his fists clenched, his reason warning him against any imprudence. He dismissed the voice of reason, but not another voice, loud, deep, shattering the night, falling like thunder from the window.
“Darcy, bring those vulgar miscreants to the library now! Discreetly, if possible, so as not to ruin the ball. Tell them not to make me hunt them down, which I am willing to do at this very moment.”
If at first the three men had looked dumbfounded, panic now fell over their faces at the admiral’s voice, as they realised they had been heard.
“You heard the admiral. He is expecting you,” Darcy said, his anger palliated by the expectation of revenge. “Except for you, Wickham. I shall deal with you myself, this very instant.”
He stepped forwards, and Wickham stepped back, disbelief and fright written on his face. The other two still looked bewildered, standing together as though in a poor attempt at defending themselves, abandoning the one who had caused the trouble.
“Darcy, first bring that useless wretch to look Mr Bennet in the eye and explain himself. Then, you may kill him if you like. I wonder why it has taken you so long.”
Darcy needed another breath to cool his temper; the admiral was at the window, leaning through it, as if he was ready to jump out.
“Into the library! Now!” Darcy shouted, grabbing Wickham’s arm. The man struggled to free himself but in vain.
“But…Mr Darcy…you cannot treat us in such a way!” Denny attempted to say. “I am not sure what is happening. We have done nothing wrong. We were talking and—”
“Mr Denny, do not make a fool of yourself,” Darcy said coldly, disgusted by the man who suddenly seemed weak and frightened. “The admiral and I were in the library with Mr Bennet. We heard everything you said. You may either go to the library now or bear more severe consequences.”
“I must speak to Colonel Forster,” Pratt said. “We cannot be threatened and forced. We are officers. I am going back to the regiment now.”
“But the admiral!” Denny said. “We cannot disobey him!”
“You do as you please, Denny. I am not going.”
They continued to argue while walking towards the door.
Darcy was still holding Wickham, but he realised he had to make a decision before they entered the house.
He could not pull Wickham along the hall, in full view of the guests, nor could he hold all three officers to prevent them from leaving.
The situation was dreadful, ridiculous, and dangerous in many ways, and anger still prevented him from thinking clearly and reasonably.
“Darcy, this is absurd,” Wickham finally said. “Are you going to make a spectacle in your friend’s house? For a joke? I do not know what you heard, but—”
“What on earth is happening here? Where have you been? What are you doing?”
Near the door, holding his glass and cigar, Colonel Forster was staring at the men, dumbfounded. Behind him, the admiral waited.
“We were having an argument,” Darcy explained. “Denny and Pratt were desirous of your presence, Colonel. I suggest we all settle this matter in the library, discreetly, as gentlemen and officers should.”
“Let us go,” Colonel Forster said. “Whatever is happening, I shall not have my name and my regiment polluted by scandal.”
∞∞∞
A few minutes later, eight men were gathered in the library. One of them was Bingley, bewildered, incredulous, stunned, wondering what had happened in the short time between the sets. The rest of the party continued, the music could be heard, and the pairs of dancers were on the floor.
Outside the library, people were enjoying what they called one of the best balls in the neighbourhood. Inside, there was anger, resentment, hate, and threats, and the only agreement was to call that night one of their worst ever.
“I am ashamed, appalled, disgusted, and disappointed,” Colonel Forster said.
“I could never imagine my officers behaving in such a repellent way. I do not even know what to say…how to act… This is undoubtedly a matter of honour. But I hope we all agree that duels are illegal, and such a solution should be dismissed entirely.”
“Nobody wants to duel with these worthless nothings,” the admiral replied. “I was considering shooting them, but not in a duel, only for the fun of hunting them down.”
The officers stared at him, then looked at their colonel, begging for support. Nobody doubted that the admiral was speaking in earnest.
“Let us hope that will not be necessary, Admiral,” the colonel answered.
“Why not? So many better men than these have been lost in battle. You will easily replace them with better ones.”
“I am sure I am not wrong in presuming that just one man is guilty of starting the rumours and engaging the others in this loathsome situation,” Darcy interjected.
“It is not the first time Wickham has acted in this despicable manner, and I blame myself for not taking proper measures a long time ago.”
“Come, Darcy, you cannot put all the blame on me! You have always hated me, even when your father loved me,” Wickham responded.
“You must kill him. There cannot be any other way,” the admiral said coldly with an unreadable expression on his face.
“And if these other idiots allow themselves to be so easily influenced by him, they are not worth anything either. Shoot them, I say. Or send them to war tomorrow. I can easily arrange that.”
The officers tried to defend themselves again, their voices affected by alcohol and fear, now sounding pathetic.
“What I would like to know,” Mr Bennet finally said weakly, distress and grief apparent on his pale face, “is why gentlemen and officers who have been welcomed into my home would think so ill and speak in such an awful manner about my family, who have been nothing but kind and friendly to them.”
“Mr Bennet, we…” Denny began to mumble. “We were fools…we drank too much…there were rumours and…we were only joking. Wickham said—”
“Do not dare put the blame on me!” Wickham yelled, and an argument between the officers started.
“Silence!” the colonel shouted. “Mr Bennet, I can safely say they do not think ill of your family, but they did not think at all. I have heard nothing but praise of your family since we arrived in Meryton. Whatever caused this dreadful situation, these men will find ways to remedy the wrong. They will offer apologies and compensation to your family, of any sort you wish, Mr Bennet. Including of a financial nature! You must state your demands, and I shall ensure they are carried out.”