Chapter 24
Two hours later, Darcy bid farewell to Mr. Voles and Mr. Rafferty and departed from the carriage house.
Mr. Bennet was nowhere in sight, choosing to avoid the reality of his responsibilities in favor of the distraction extended by Wickham.
Their conversation had not been long, and while Darcy could not overhear what they said, he saw enough in their expressions to understand that Wickham had inserted himself into Mr. Bennet’s confidence.
With one hand on the older man’s shoulder and his well-practiced sympathetic eye, Wickham no doubt offered reassurances and advice.
That his counsel had no real substance, Mr. Bennet could not know, nor would he trouble himself to learn, given the chance.
They shook hands. Wickham departed with the resolved gait of a man with a purpose, and Mr. Bennet returned to Longbourn with a lighter step.
It was enough to turn Darcy’s stomach. How a gentleman with so many females dependent on him could trust so recent an acquaintance—and a single man with no known obligations at that!
—was unfathomable. What the devil did that handshake mean?
Darcy prayed he was wrong, but he feared Mr. Bennet had very likely put himself and his family under the thumb of a self-serving man with no conscience.
Hopefully the man had not promised Wickham any money for his “assistance.”
If only Darcy could reveal his full identity! But now, more than ever, he could not. His previous silence would be used against him, held up as proof of his untrustworthiness while Wickham would be extolled as the hero. Oh, the irony!
He approached the house, wanting to see Elizabeth and not knowing how he would act or what he should say if he did. So long as he could avoid her dragon of a sister.
Fortunately, it was Miss Mary whom he met between the parlor and the stairs. With a firm, albeit quieted tone, she asked, “What can I do to help my father?”
Darcy replied honestly. “What can be done has been done.”
She pursed her lips and took a deep breath as though bracing herself. “Is our situation as bad as I fear?”
“If we cannot irrevocably prove that the charges against your father are fraudulent, you will lose Longbourn. Your father will be sent to debtor’s prison.”
“What have you done to prove his case?”
It was an excellent question, and Darcy gave her a thorough reply, detailing the documents that he, with the help of Elizabeth, discovered in the house, his continued correspondence with his contact in town (Richard), and the messages he had sent to businessmen he trusted on the continent.
More than that, such as Mr. Reynolds’s involvement, he did not mention.
The connection to Pemberley was too close.
She listened with narrow-eyed concentration, meeting his gaze fully once she had understood and accepted his answer. “What can I do to prepare my mother and sisters for what is to come?”
What a practical-minded young lady! She was a credit to her family and would be a source of support for Elizabeth.
“It is my understanding that Mrs. Bennet has a brother in town.” A brother who—as Elizabeth had explained with understandable frustration—her mother had avoided this past decade in a misguided attempt to please her daughter’s socially superior intended.
Elizabeth had mourned their loss, describing them as a loving family with sound values and good motives.
“Perhaps you might encourage her to appeal to his kind nature.”
Miss Mary considered this. “He would have a family of his own. Perhaps he and Aunt Gardiner might take in Mama and Jane. They will feel the change in our circumstances most harshly.”
Darcy had to give her more reason to hope.
“You are an accomplished musician. If you choose to teach your skills, you would not lack pupils from respectable families, willing to pay a healthy sum for your expert instruction.” Richard would help.
All it would take would be a word to Aunt Matlock.
Once she heard Miss Mary play, she would ensure that the young lady’s needs were met.
Hope brightened her expression. “Could I earn enough to live? To help my sisters? To get Father out of debtor’s prison?”
“You could be an immense help to your sisters.”
This earned a smile, which faded almost as soon as it appeared.
In the next blink she stepped closer to him.
“I wish to thank you for what you have done for my family, Mr. Robinson. For Lizzy.” He froze, not knowing how to reply or how much she knew.
“I am not blind to all she does for us, for Longbourn. Mama and Jane will feel the blow to our reputations, but Lizzy will mourn the loss of Longbourn. She manages it well.” She looked about the hall, her gaze lingering, appreciative.
Darcy excused himself, leaving her to roam about and memorize her home for memories she would cherish in the years to come.
It brought to his mind the curve of the staircase at Pemberley, the smoothness of the polished oak under his hand leading him to his room, the brass-mounted globe in his father’s study, and the lumpy surface under his fingertips when he spun it round its axle.
After climbing Longbourn’s squeaky stairs to the upper floor, he went directly to his writing desk and penned an urgent letter to Richard.
He informed his cousin of the arrival of Mr. Voles, but foremost in his mind was Wickham.
He was scheming something, and Darcy felt powerless to prevent it.
He almost wished the fiend would act so he would know how to respond.
This endless, insufferable waiting for the inevitable strike was wearing on his patience.
After sealing the folded page with wax, he tucked the letter into his pocket and returned down the stairs to don his coat and hat for the walk to Meryton. He did not see Elizabeth, and he avoided the rest.
He reached the edge of the gravel drive, deciding in favor of the footpath he knew Elizabeth favored over the main road.
It would add another ten minutes to his walk, but he felt the need for the exercise.
Five minutes later, he heard light footsteps padding behind him, and his decision to take the longer path was rewarded when Elizabeth hastened toward him.
“Are you walking into Meryton?” she asked.
He extended his arm to her by way of reply.
She wrapped her hand around the crook of his elbow, and they fell into rhythm, first in their steps and then in conversation.
“Longbourn is as good as lost,” she stated without inflection.
Darcy peeked down at her. Elizabeth felt too much to be so unaffected.
“In two weeks, we may expect the customs officer to return with the writ of execution, and if we cannot pay the debt, we will end the year at debtor’s prison.
” She was not informing Darcy so much as facing what was to come with a brave resignation that cracked his resolve.
Even if they were hauled off to prison—an event Darcy would willingly spend all his fortune to prevent—Elizabeth would make the best of it. Another lady would perish from shame, but she would rise like a phoenix, finding ways to lighten everyone’s spirits.
“I suppose that my sisters and I will be allowed outside the prison so that we might work?”
“Arrangements can be made.”
“There will be some scandal around our name. No matter our accomplishments, I do not count on being able to secure respectable positions with good families immediately. My uncle Gardiner will help us as well as he can. He and Aunt Gardiner have children of their own, but my sisters are old enough to be helpful to them. They are skilled and shall not suffer to find suitable employment.”
Darcy listened to her praise the abilities of her sisters, knowing that she and Mrs. Bennet were responsible for securing their accomplishments. She, Mrs. Bennet… and his own father.
If Father were alive, Darcy would have to agree that he had chosen well for his bride.
There could not be a finer, more suitable partner in life for him than Elizabeth Bennet.
Sweet melancholy swelled in his throat. How differently he would speak to his father if he had the chance to relive his youth!
He would be more understanding of the man’s faults and make a greater effort to find things on which they could agree.
He would show gratitude for all the things the man had done well and forgive the rest.
Elizabeth paused, her posture stiffening and her voice tense. “I shall never forgive Papa for what he has done to them.”
Her words took the wind out of Darcy’s lungs.
In a flash of bitter memories, he was tramping out of his father’s study, leaving his family ring on the desk, severing ties with everyone and everything he held dear.
Yes, he had created a life he loved, had made friends who were as close as family.
But his father was gone, and Darcy would trade his success for even just one day with him.
He did not wish this kind of regret on Elizabeth.
“Resentment harms the bearer of the sentiment more than it does its source. Pray, do not shackle yourself to it.”
She stopped on the path at the edge of Meryton and turned to face him fully, her eyes searching his face. He should not have revealed as much of himself as he had. He sensed that she saw right through him, could read his secrets. “You speak from experience?”
“I do.” He risked discovery, but he did not look away, emphasizing the gravity of his statement and hoping his words would spare her from preventable pain.
A carriage rolled by, and a high-pitched sing-song voice shouted, “Lizzy!” from the window accompanied by a protruding waving hand.
It was the Bennet carriage. Rolling to a stop near the haberdashery, the stable boy hopped down from his narrow perch beside the coachman to open the door and lower the step for Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, and the two youngest.
Elizabeth slipped her hand out of the crook of his arm and stepped away. Without another word, she walked to them. Darcy followed, wondering if he had revealed too much. He prayed that Elizabeth’s nature would prove to be more forgiving than his had ever been.