Chapter 21
Interruption and Understanding
“You must take a little more, Miss Darcy. Indeed, you must.” Mrs. Bennet’s voice carried across the breakfast table with cheerful insistence.
Georgiana, who had been attempting to decline with gentle firmness, yielded at last with a small smile. “You are very kind, ma’am. I thank you.”
“Nonsense – kindness has nothing to do with it. Lizzy, pray see that she is helped. It was made yesterday, on purpose.”
Elizabeth complied, though not without amusement. “You must not suppose yourself obliged to eat more than you wish.”
“I am very much obliged already,” Georgiana said softly.
Lydia leant forward at once. “You must sit here, near me. We never sit in any order at breakfast, and it is much more agreeable.”
Kitty nodded eagerly. “And you must tell us everything – whether you like Netherfield, and whether you dance often in town, and…”
“Kitty,” Elizabeth said, though not severely.
“But we hardly had enough time to discuss everything.”
Georgiana coloured slightly, though not with discomfort. “I have not danced very much of late,” she said.
“That must be quite intolerable,” Lydia returned. “I should not know what to do with myself.”
“You would find something,” Elizabeth said dryly.
“I always do,” Lydia replied, perfectly satisfied.
A general smile followed.
Mr. Bennet, who had been observing the scene over the edge of his newspaper, lowered it slightly. “Miss Darcy, you will soon discover that my daughters are not easily restrained when once engaged upon a subject.”
Georgiana smiled demurely. “I am not out yet.”
“I say that is cruel of Mr. Darcy. Do you not agree, Mama?” Lydia exclaimed.
“Very good, my dear. That is what we should have done with our daughters.” Mr. Bennet, speaking over his wife.
“Mr. Bennet! In town, with all the diversions, it may not matter. But our girls, here, would die of boredom. And they have a duty to fulfil.”
“I do not find it unpleasant,” Georgiana said, with a small but sincere smile. “I-I do not think myself ready.”
There was something in her manner – gentle, attentive, and entirely without affectation – which recommended her to every member of the party, though in different ways.
“That is the right sentiment,” Elizabeth replied. “I can assure you, we, none of us was ready at fifteen.”
“Speak for yourself, Lizzy. I could not have waited two or three more years while you danced away at the assemblies.”
“You are the exception then, Lydia. But in town, you would speak differently. Ladies come out at about eighteen. Nobody would take you seriously.”
“There are many rules one must learn before they are let out in society. And you are expected to perform. I am dreading it.”
“What rules? You will have to tell me about those.” Lydia said thoughtfully. “Does this mean I have to learn to play the pianoforte?”
Lydia, who had never yet shown much inclination for such accomplishments, spoke with all the confidence of one who expects to excel in whatever she has not attempted.
“And sing. You have a good voice, Lydia. I am sure you would take to playing music if you applied yourself,” Jane said.
“I could assist you – that is if you would like it.” Georgiana offered.
The meal continued in the same spirit of ease until, at last, it drew naturally to a close.
Elizabeth rose. “If you are not fatigued,” she said, turning to Georgiana, “perhaps you would allow me to show you a little of the house – and afterwards the garden. It is not extensive, but it has its merits.”
Georgiana rose at once. “I should like that very much.”
Lydia looked up immediately. “We shall come too.”
“You shall not,” Elizabeth returned. “I would like some time with Miss Darcy if that is all right with you.”
***
The morning, though still cool, had brightened considerably, and the air, after the closeness of the breakfast room, felt fresh and agreeable.
Elizabeth led the way through the small garden, speaking lightly of its modest arrangements, though her attention was less upon the grounds than upon her companion.
“I am afraid,” she said, “that you will find very little here to compare with Pemberley.”
“I do not think so,” Georgiana replied. “It is very pleasant.”
“You are easily satisfied.”
“I hope I am reasonably so,” she said, with a small smile.
They walked on a few steps in silence.
“It is very different,” Georgiana continued, after a moment. “But, I think, I like it the more for that.”
Elizabeth glanced at her.
“Because it feels…” She hesitated. “More at ease.”
Elizabeth did not immediately answer.
“I have never stayed with strangers before. But it did not feel so. Even your parents,” Georgiana added, more softly.
Elizabeth turned toward her, touched, though she answered only with a smile.
“Actually, it is not entirely true. Fitzwilliam wrote about you. I felt I knew you a little.”
“Really?”
“Yes, twice. More the second time. The third time, he wrote that you were courting.” She paused but then continued with a smile. “I was not completely surprised. He had never written about a lady.”
“He seems to be a great correspondent.”
“When he is away, he writes often. Although I do not like to be alone, his letters help. He tries to entertain me. Mrs. Reynolds, our housekeeper, says he will be less away once he marries. She said that men like to stay at home if there is a reason. A sister is no such inducement, it seems. But I do not blame him.”
They had reached the far end of the garden path, where a narrow opening led toward a small grove beyond. Elizabeth was about to turn when a figure stepped forward from the shade.
“Miss Elizabeth. Miss Darcy.” He lingered on Georgiana. The voice, though composed, carried something in it that arrested them both at once.
Georgiana stopped. Her hand tightened slightly upon Elizabeth’s arm.
Elizabeth felt it – and understood. “Mr. Wickham,” she said, with composure.
He bowed, though without deference. “What an unexpected pleasure,” he continued.
“You are mistaken, sir,” Elizabeth replied. “There is no pleasure in it… And I doubt this is accidental.”
A flicker – brief, but unmistakable – passed across his expression. Georgiana had not spoken.
“I wished only to renew an acquaintance I had thought… interrupted.”
Elizabeth felt the tremor in her arm and moved, almost imperceptibly, a step forward. She placed herself slightly between her and Wickham.
“You should not be here, sir.”
“I will not detain you long,” he returned, though he did not withdraw. “I wished only to pay my respects.”
“I do not think so.” She put her other hand on Georgiana’s. “Come, Miss Darcy. We have been outside long, and the garden has just lost its lustre.” She tried to go past Wickham, who, on the other hand, blocked their way.
“I never thought I would see you again, Georgiana,” Wickham bowed slightly. “Are you not happy to see me? It is quite rude of Darcy to neglect to inform us both.”
Georgiana turned away first, but then she took a deep breath and faced the man. “He told me. You must leave.”
The simple statement, though scarcely above a whisper, was enough. Elizabeth’s tone altered. “You have heard, sir.”
Wickham’s expression hardened. “You are very ready to take offence, Miss Elizabeth.”
“I am very ready,” she returned, “to protect my friends.”
A brief silence followed.
“I find I was mistaken in thinking you more guarded; the other day proved me wrong.”
Elizabeth did not answer. But it took all of her power to seem unaffected.
“I am quite offended that you threw away my friendship for Darcy’s. I did not take you for a fortune hunter.”
Georgiana gasped at that.
He smirked at Georgiana’s reaction, then his gaze lingered – travelling over Elizabeth with a deliberation that made its meaning unmistakable.
He stepped forward.
“Mr. Wickham!” Elizabeth stepped back, taking Georgiana with her.
A sound came from the house. Footsteps – quick, unhesitating.
Wickham heard it too. He cursed but then straightened.
Darcy appeared at the entrance to the path. Lydia was about to join the ladies in the back of the house, but when she saw Wickham there, she backed away just as Darcy was arriving. She alerted him.
He did not look at Wickham first. His attention went at once to his sister and then to Elizabeth. He saw enough. “Georgiana, Miss Elisabeth,” he said quietly. “Please, go inside. Hot tea is waiting.”
Georgiana, relieved, obeyed at once. Elizabeth turned as if to follow but stopped. After the briefest hesitation, she resumed her place a little behind Darcy, though not at a distance.
He became aware of it. For a moment, he lost the thread of what he meant to say. Then, with the slightest inclination of his head, he turned again to Wickham. “You will leave this place.”
Wickham smiled faintly. “You are very prompt, Darcy.”
“I am very decided.”
“So like you. You have come to ruin my fun.” He stepped closer. “You have been busy,” Wickham continued. “One cannot obtain so much as a pint of beer on credit now in town. As if someone had warned them. Admit it, it was you. You just cannot leave me alone.”
Darcy did not answer immediately. “You mistake the consequence for the cause,” he said at last.
Wickham’s expression altered. “You interfere where you have no right.”
“I interfere,” Darcy replied, “where I see cause.” A pause. “You are trespassing. I suggest you leave. Now. And if you so much as address Miss Darcy or Miss Elizabeth, or any of the Bennet ladies in the future, you will not do so with impunity. You have tried my patience.”
“You cannot dictate whom I speak to.”
“Oh, but I can. The debts you left unsettled in Lambton remain within my power to pursue. I have not done so.”
The words were spoken quietly. But they did not lack force. Wickham paled.
“Do not oblige me,” Darcy continued, “to reconsider that decision.”
A longer silence followed.
Wickham looked from one to the other, then gave a slight bow. “You are determined, as ever, to make use of your advantages.”