18. Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
February 1812 Darcy House Darcy
N othing could have surprised Darcy more than receiving a reply to Elizabeth's letter the very day he sent one to her. There was usually a day or so between her missives—he tried to be patient, but rarely succeeded. Georgiana, content that her brother could manage his own romance, did no more than ask about Elizabeth once in a while. She was impatient to meet the lady officially, and had sketched a passable likeness as a gift to her brother. The eyes were not exactly right—maybe they were too fine to be captured on canvas.
Without another thought, he broke the seal and began to read.
Dearest Fitzwilliam,
I write to you again, not merely to respond to your previous letter, but because I feel it necessary to offer a word of caution regarding the matter of Mr. Wickham, as it weighs heavily on my mind. While I am confident in your good intentions and the sincerity with which you seek to rectify this wrong, I feel compelled to warn you, with the utmost respect and care, that the manner in which you approach this situation may not be as straightforward as you might hope.
As you are aware, I have no great love for Mr. Wickham, though I championed him so thoroughly last autumn. His charms have deceived many, and his words acted to further poison me against you. I certainly made no effort to hide my disdain from my neighbors. I fear they would recall my dislike if I were not present to counter it, and would work to prevent you from succeeding.
Indeed, the town of Meryton, as I am sure you are aware, has been more than receptive to his tales of supposed mistreatment at your hands. They have embraced his version of events, and in those circles, he is seen as a martyr, wronged by 'the likes of you.' The stories he has spread, true or false, have taken root in the minds of the good people there, and it would be no exaggeration to say that they would be inclined to believe his account over yours, given the widespread sympathy he enjoys.
Therefore, I must caution you against rushing forth with the entire truth, however justified it may be. Should you go to Meryton and attempt to correct the narrative with your own account, I fear you will not only find yourself met with disbelief, but you will be mocked, scorned, and possibly even laughed out of the village. The power of Mr. Wickham’s charm and the ease with which he has twisted his story has given him an almost unassailable position in the eyes of many.
I say this not to discourage you, but to ensure that you approach this delicate matter with caution. If your intentions are to expose Mr. Wickham’s deceit, I would advise you to consider the consequences carefully, for the path you wish to take may not yield the results you expect. Should you decide to confront him directly, you must be prepared for the potential backlash from the very people who have believed in his version of events. And should you take this public matter to those who have the power to act on it, you must be prepared to face skepticism, if not outright ridicule, from the town.
As much as I wish for the truth to be known, I fear that the present circumstances may not allow for a straightforward resolution. I know you wish to act with honor, and I fully support that, but I cannot ignore the practical implications of what such a course of action might entail. Therefore, I implore you to weigh carefully the consequences of any action you take, and to proceed with caution, keeping in mind that Meryton is not a place where truth always prevails over charm.
I trust in your judgment, Fitzwilliam, and I know that whatever course you choose, you will do so with the utmost integrity. But I must beg you to be mindful of the risks and to ensure that you are prepared for the reaction you might receive. I write this not to dissuade you from action, but to remind you of the realities of the situation at hand.
I look forward to your thoughts on this matter and await your next letter with great anticipation.
Yours most sincerely, Elizabeth Bennet
Seeing her use his given name sent a thrill through him. She had not done so yet, and he had abstained, waiting for her to be ready for such familiarity. Never had he dreamed it would occur before they met in person again. Oh, how he had longed to whisper her name in her ear. He would kiss her hand and proclaim how ardently he admired and loved her.
Shaking himself from his imaginings, he reread her letter a little slower. Her concern warmed his heart. She had no need to fear, however. He had already taken such information into account. It was why he had sent Richard in his place. As a colonel in the regulars, he had more sway with the local militia colonel. His presence was commanding, too. As an added benefit, Wickham feared Darcy's cousin more than any other.
Wishing to ease Elizabeth's fears, he penned another letter, wondering if it would be too obvious if he sent it immediately. She had not mentioned any suspicions about the missives—were there any? He supposed he ought to ask and resolved to add it to his letter. A wicked part of him hoped to be discovered. He would welcome any excuse to marry her as quickly as possible. It would be better if she were ready, however, and so he tucked those musings away in the back of his head, determined to see this strange courtship to its natural conclusion as soon as Elizabeth felt ready.
Nodding as if to confirm this new resolve, he moved from his comfortable armchair to his desk. Uncapping the ink bottle, he dipped his newly mended pen into the black liquid and began to compose a new letter.