Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Ten days had now passed since Wickham’s attack.
Word came from the magistrate that a trial date had been set, and Darcy busied himself with the arrangements, desirous that no member of Elizabeth’s family should encounter any expense or inconvenience if it was in his power to prevent it.
Five letters had been discreetly retrieved from Wickham’s possessions.
Darcy had read them quickly, his face burning as he did.
The first two letters Wickham had threatened him with were chaste, these five made it clear that Georgiana longed to be Wickham’s wife.
Seven are accounted for, just as Elizabeth described.
He had dashed them all into the fire, grateful that he had not needed to inform his sister of any of this.
And I shall see to it that Wickham is deported, never to return.
A note from Mr Bennet had informed Darcy that Elizabeth’s godfather had arrived a few days ago.
This news had caused him some trepidation.
He had hoped to meet with Elizabeth privately as soon as she recovered.
Longbourn was in an uproar, he had learnt through various sources, and Elizabeth confined herself often in her room or in the gardens.
This morning, another note had arrived for Darcy, requesting his presence at Longbourn at one o’clock.
At first, he had presumed it was from Mr Bennet, but on closer inspection, he realised he did not know the elaborate, looping hand.
There was no signature. Unable to account for this discrepancy, he accepted immediately, his body restless with the thought of being in Elizabeth’s presence again.
As he stood in front of the entrance to Longbourn, his mind tormented him with the memory of the last time he was here with Elizabeth.
His heart clenched as he recalled how unsteady she had been on her feet.
Would she want to see him? He desperately wished for a moment alone with her so he might apologise.
Bingley had mentioned that she was very tired and quiet, nothing like her usual merry self, and he reproached himself bitterly at the thought of her suffering.
He was admitted to the house by an elderly servant, who informed him that the family—with the exception of Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary—had taken the carriage into Meryton.
Puzzled as to why he should be called to a meeting when Mr Bennet was away, Darcy informed the servant that his presence had been requested.
A flicker of understanding crossed the butler’s face, and he beckoned for Darcy to follow him.
“My apologies, sir, for the disorder, but we are under strict instructions not to move anything.” The look on the old man’s face suggested that he would need to be paid a great deal more than his usual wage to touch any of the items in Mr Bennet’s book-room.
They reached the study, and he knocked on the door.
“Enter with care!” an unfamiliar voice called out and Darcy stepped inside with much trepidation.
A man who was not Mr Bennet stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by boxes.
He had the appearance of someone who was once tall and athletic but was now stooped with age.
His hair was a faded copper, reminding Darcy of an ageing terrier that had belonged to his mother.
Two intelligent eyes twinkled at Darcy underneath bushy brows.
“Good afternoon, Mr Darcy. I see you received my invitation.”
Darcy quickly overcame his surprise. “Good afternoon, Mr…?”
“Vanderbeck.” The older man did not move or offer to shake Darcy’s hand. Instead, he pointed to the largest crate. “Would you be so kind as to assist me? I am not as strong as I was.”
Usually Darcy would not like to be spoken to so directly by a stranger, but this man was Elizabeth’s godfather, and so he stepped over several large spears and picked up the cargo. “What does it contain?”
“About two dozen snake eggs,” Mr Vanderbeck replied cheerfully. “Please do not tell Mrs Bennet.”
Darcy had not known himself capable of moving so quickly. Swiftly depositing the box in one corner, he straightened his spine and cleared his throat. “You wished to meet with me? To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Mr Vanderbeck motioned for Darcy to sit before turning to move a large woodcarving which was perched on the other chair.
It was obviously too heavy for the older man to lift, and so Darcy swiftly offered his assistance again.
Mr Vanderbeck eyed him with interest and stepped aside to allow Darcy to place it carefully on the floor.
Both men took their respective seats. Darcy had the distinct impression the older gentlemen was trying to get the measure of him. Without any preamble, Mr Vanderbeck launched into his first attack. “I invited you to Longbourn as I wish to better understand your relationship with my goddaughter.”
Heat prickled at Darcy’s neck. He had half a mind to tell this stranger to mind his own business, but he checked his temper. “I consider Miss Elizabeth to be a friend.”
“And you would permit your friends—especially female ones—to run errands for you alone in the woods?”
Darcy bristled. “I had no idea that Miss Elizabeth had arranged to meet Mr Wickham. I would have prevented it had I known.”
“Do you think her a fool then?”
“Certainly not! I have the greatest respect for Miss Elizabeth’s intellect.” Darcy’s blood boiled and he forced himself to speak evenly. “And I will not hear her spoken of in those degrading terms.”
Mr Vanderbeck simply nodded, never taking his eyes from Darcy’s face. “I understand that you are a wealthy man, with a fine estate in the north of the country.”
Darcy was still too angry to answer immediately. “I do not discuss my fortune or property with people unconnected to me. Forgive me when I decline to answer.”
Mr Vanderbeck waved his hand impatiently.
“Oh, you English! It does not matter what you say, for I have conducted my own enquiries.” He counted out an imaginary list on his fingers: “Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy… ten thousand a year... an impressive estate… quiet, proud, aloof… and certainly not a man whom I would expect to strike up a friendship with dear Elizabeth.”
Darcy opened his mouth to reply, but Mr Vanderbeck continued, “But he is a good master, I am told. Affable to the poor and does not seek any praise for his charitable endeavours. A loyal friend, although not one to force an acquaintance. A devoted brother, a man with honour at his core. No dalliances with women, no litany of dashed hopes, no false promises to another.” He gave Darcy a shrewd look.
“A man who has only ever known seriousness and may benefit from a little laughter in his life.”
Mortified to hear this assessment of himself, it was a few moments before Darcy trusted himself to speak. Eventually he said, “Am I allowed to know why you troubled yourself to make these enquiries?”
Mr Vanderbeck gave a shrug. “I wanted to know the kind of man my dear Elizabeth would put herself in harm’s way for. What do you say to that?”
“I did not ask her to do it.”
“And she did it nevertheless—can you tell me why?”
“Miss Elizabeth has a kind and generous spirit. She acts to help others, regardless of the cost to her.”
“The cost! Thank you, sir, for you have hit upon the very subject I wish to discuss—the cost of my dear Elizabeth’s actions.
There are rumours of an understanding between you, if I am to believe my friend’s indiscreet wife.
And now this attack in the woods by a man who claims to be a distant acquaintance of yours—I fear that this will reflect badly on her. ”
“Miss Elizabeth is a virtuous gentlewoman, and I will challenge anyone who dares to cast aspersions against her character! Any accusation of wrongdoing is completely unfounded—”
“I will pay you to marry her.”
Darcy stared at Mr Vanderbeck, unsure if he had heard the older man correctly. “I beg your pardon?”
“Name your price sir, and you may have a wealthy bride.” Mr Vanderbeck’s expression was serious. “All this unpleasantness hovering around my goddaughter would soon be forgotten. You may say that you have loved her all along and she need never know of this agreement.”
“No!” Darcy fought every instinct to recoil in horror at this callous assessment of Elizabeth’s future. “I cannot accept these terms, and to speak of Miss Elizabeth’s hand in marriage as though it were little more than a transaction is abhorrent.”
“English pride!” Mr Vanderbeck tutted, turning his attention to the writing desk and languidly shuffling through some leaves of paper. “What possible reason could you give for refusing this offer?”
“I could never—would never—force Miss Elizabeth to do anything that was against her wishes. I could never accept financial compensation for a gift as precious as Miss Elizabeth’s trust or sincere regard.”
“So you would leave her to her fate?” Mr Vanderbeck raised an eyebrow and stared at Darcy. “Her father worries that she will be perceived as a fallen woman.”
“I would do anything in my power to protect Miss Elizabeth and to see to her comfort. But I would not seek payment for it—I would consider helping Miss Elizabeth to be a privilege that I could only hope to be worthy of.”
Mr Vanderbeck did not take his eyes from Darcy’s face. “You think very highly of my goddaughter then?”
Darcy was not in the habit of sharing the intimate workings of his heart with anyone, let alone a stranger, but he sensed that anything less than the truth would be inadequate. “I could imagine no greater honour than to spend my life with Miss Elizabeth.”
For a fleeting moment, Mr Vanderbeck’s severe expression vanished, and he huffed, “Then why do you not tell her?” He pulled out a piece of paper and wrote a few words before folding it over with another sheet.
Handing the papers to Darcy, he stood stiffly and pointed to the window.
“You will find Elizabeth walking in the garden. Please give her this from me.”