Chapter 24 #3
Elizabeth turned pale, glancing at the maid and Mrs Reynolds who were busy preparing Lydia’s bath. She gently embraced her sister, trying to excuse her unfair accusations.
“Lydia, you must take a warm bath and eat something then rest a little. Mr Darcy and I will go to the chapel; Lord Matlock is already there. Do you wish to come with us?”
“Oh, I could not possibly do that, Lizzy. I must sleep—the journey was horrible! I could not rest since I found what happened to my poor George!”
“Mrs Darcy, I prepared a special tea for Mrs Wickham; it will help calm her. I think she should not leave her bed for the time being,” Mrs Reynolds said gently.
Elizabeth nodded in approval, her head spinning from ire and distress at her sister’s thoughtless words; she struggled to comfort and calm Lydia, who was savouring her tea and food and continued to wail about how her George was harshly treated by Mr Darcy and Lord Matlock—who forced him to move to Newcastle—then repeated three times that she would be forced to wear black, which was very unbecoming to her complexion, and that she would miss all the balls for the rest of the year.
When dawn broke, Lydia finally fell asleep; Elizabeth and Darcy, hearts and arms entwined, went towards Pemberley’s small chapel to join Lord Matlock in prayers and sorrow.
The earl glanced briefly at them and forced a sad smile then gently embraced Elizabeth.
Neither of them said a word for a long time as there were no proper words for such an occasion.
It was George Wickham’s last night at Pemberley…
In the morning, the rain stopped briefly then started again just before the funeral.
Unlike his life—where he liked to be the centre of everyone’s attention and surrounded by as many people as possible—only a small procession followed George Wickham on his last way. The funeral service was only interrupted from time to time by the sound of the rain, and it ended rather soon.
In the carriage on their way back to the house, Lord Matlock informed them he would return to Matlock Manor, but Elizabeth and Darcy strongly opposed him.
They insisted that the earl could not possibly leave since his entire family would arrive at Pemberley later that day.
Eventually, he admitted he would stay for another week.
After a hasty and mostly silent breakfast, Lydia returned to her room, accompanied by the maid. Lord Matlock retired to his apartment, and Elizabeth and Darcy finally had some time alone to rest and comfort each other.
“It must have been very difficult,” Elizabeth finally whispered.
He hesitated a moment before answering. “It was very difficult…and disappointing. He… After only a month, he had lost all the money he was given…and he already had debts. It appears he attempted to cheat during a card game. Later, when he left, the other player shot him in the back. They were both drunk. The other is already in gaol, but…”
“This is so hard to believe, to understand… Everything you did for him was for naught… “
“From the beginning, we feared this would happen. It saddens me to say that I did not trust his promises for a moment. But my uncle wished and hoped for a change…” He stopped for a moment and looked at Elizabeth, their hands held together, then kissed her temple.
“When you wish, I shall tell you a story…my uncle and George’s story.
I know you have always wondered as we all had… Uncle said I should tell you.”
“Please tell me now… I mean, if you wish…and if you are not too tired.”
“I am never too tired when you ask something of me.” He forced a small smile, briefly kissing her lips.
Then, with a low, hesitant voice and heavy heart, Darcy began his narration.
Elizabeth listened in complete silence, only the alternate rhythm of her breathing and her beating heart betraying her emotions.
When he ended his heart-wrenching story, Elizabeth needed a long time to recollect enough to speak.
“It explains so many things…” she whispered. “Poor Lord Matlock…first impressions and appearances can be so misleading. Considering his easy manners, his tendency to joke all the time, his forwardness and straightness—I never would have imagined all the struggles he had to bear.”
“Poor men who do not choose wisely whom to marry…” Darcy replied.
“And yes, first impressions can be very misleading,” he agreed, kissing her hands.
“I love you so much, my darling Elizabeth.” She cuddled to his chest and, his arms wrapped around her, they finally fell asleep, embraced in love and comfort, exhausted by fatigue and emotions.
Darcy was the first to wake, carefully rising so as not to disturb Elizabeth.
It was already afternoon, and a glance through the window showed him the rain had long stopped, vanquished by a bright sun.
He prepared himself and went downstairs to be certain everything was prepared to receive their expected guests.
He inquired after Lord Matlock, and was informed that the earl had not yet left his apartment.
At four o’clock in the afternoon, Elizabeth joined him in the library. She seemed rested, and despite a trace of visible pallor, her countenance was bright. She greeted him with a small smile, and he tipped her chin and claimed her lips tenderly.
“I went to see Lydia,” she whispered. “She is still asleep; I hope she remains upstairs until we speak to my family. I do not expect my mother will take the news well and—”
A determined knock at the door interrupted them, and a footman brought the news that the carriages had been spotted entering the park.
As the servant left, Darcy stole a few more moments to claim another kiss.
“Do not worry; the park is quite large,” he said while his patience seemed to vanish and the kiss turned more passionate.
Eventually, arm in arm, they exited in front of the main entrance, waiting.
Six large carriages stopped in a row, allowing a wave of exuberance and joy to spread.
Four small children impatiently ran from one carriage, closely followed by the governess.
Four stern gentlemen—Lord Brightmore, the colonel, the viscount and Mr Bennet stretched their legs after the long journey.
Mrs Gardiner, Lady Selina and Georgiana, followed by a shy Anne de Bourgh, stepped down, smiling with beautiful elegance while Mr and Mrs Hurst, together with Miss Bingley, impassively looked at the noisy gathering.
Finally, Mr and Mrs Bingley, arm in arm and gazing at each other, exited their carriage, and immediately after them, Mrs Bennet, with Mary and Kitty, made no effort to hide their enthusiastic appreciation.
“Oh, this is absolutely astonishing! Dear Lord, I never imagined that one of my daughters would live in such a house! Surely, there are not many earls who have such splendid houses. My poor nerves cannot bear so much excitement, but upon my word, I would not mind if I died this very minute,” Mrs Bennet exclaimed while her husband expressed his hope that her nerves would resist at least until after dinner as he was very hungry.
Mr and Mrs Darcy greeted their guests with much joy and love.
Elizabeth embraced and kissed the ladies—except Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley, who curtseyed to their hosts with cold politeness—while the gentlemen complimented Elizabeth on her appearance.
Mr Bennet embraced his favourite daughter, kissing her cheeks, and he was rewarded with the warmest embrace, but not longer than a moment as he was pushed by Mrs Bennet, who claimed the full attention of her “favourite” daughter.
With a great din of voices, the guests finally entered, and this time, the grandeur of the interior silenced Mrs Bennet.
The children were first directed to their rooms, then servants were assigned to help the guests; the first who were directed to their apartments were Miss Bingley and the Hursts, an honour that both ladies noticed and appreciated.
Then Miss Kitty and Miss Mary were showed to their rooms as well as Miss Anne de Bourgh.
Surprisingly, Darcy invited the rest of the guests into the main drawing room, offered them some refreshments and drinks, and then dismissed the servants.
“Forgive me for delaying you. Unfortunately, I must share news that is equally unpleasant and painful” His grave voice wiped the smiles off their faces.
“I do not know another way of saying this, so I shall be direct: three days ago, Mr George Wickham tragically died. He was buried here at Pemberley earlier this morning. Mrs Lydia Wickham is upstairs, resting in her own apartment.”
A deep, heavy silence gripped each of the guests, their expressions frozen in stunned disbelief.
The tension was unbearable, yet nobody dared to break it with a single word.
Eventually, Mrs Bennet’s voice cried her despair while she deplored the loss suffered by her youngest and most beloved daughter.
With great difficulty, Elizabeth and Jane managed to speak to her rationally and take her to her rooms, supported on their arms. With a brief glance, Elizabeth noticed her husband’s dark expression and, in a corner, Georgiana’s white face and tearful eyes as she bit her trembling lips.
One by one, silenced and troubled, the ladies left the drawing room while the gentlemen remained still, staring at each other, unsure what to do next.
The colonel filled a glass with brandy and emptied it with one gulp, his gesture instantly mirrored by the others.
After a second round of brandy, the colonel and the viscount inquired after their father.
They were informed that the earl had not left his rooms since the funeral and had asked to be allowed to rest. A new round of brandy was the start of discussion and speculation about the astonishing event, asking Darcy for all the details.