Chapter VI #2
Georgiana could not believe what she was hearing. “I beg your pardon, Brother, but in suggesting the Bennets of dishonesty, you are insinuating that Miss Bennet does not care for Mr. Bingley.”
“Is it not obvious? Miss Bennet never shows a hint of affection for Bingley. If he marries her, it is his own choice, but since she cannot provide wealth or connections, she should at least have some affection for him.”
“Brother,” said Georgiana, “Miss Bennet’s affection for Mr. Bingley is unmistakable.”
“I apologize, Georgiana, but I cannot credit it. As I have been in Miss Bennet’s company far longer than you have, you must allow my understanding of her to be superior. Besides, Miss Elizabeth gave me reason to believe there were family designs.”
Though she considered refuting his claims, Georgiana decided against it for several reasons, not least that she doubted Bingley would heed him.
Not only did she think it was impossible to convince him, but she doubted Mr. Bingley would listen to William regardless.
Whether William would ever see Miss Bennet’s integrity for himself, she could not say, but the important part was that Mr. Bingley saw it.
Should they stay for a time, she thought her brother would come to the right understanding.
Until that time, there was little point in arguing with him.
Thus, Georgiana nodded and changed the subject. They had a pleasant time together until Mr. Bingley joined them for luncheon.
THERE WERE TIMES WHEN Kitty Bennet did not appreciate her younger sister. Lydia was a lot of fun, but she could be thoughtless and occasionally mean-spirited. She also tended to insist on her opinion or understanding of events at times, listening to no one, especially Kitty.
The morning after Mr. Bingley and his friends dined at Longbourn was a perfect example of this.
As the day was fine, the two sisters had decided to walk to Meryton.
It had been several days since they had been in the company of the officers, and Lydia was determined not to endure another instant without their society.
The moment they arrived, it appeared that Lydia meant to spread the story of the previous night and her interpretation of events to anyone who would listen.
“Mr. Wickham!” exclaimed Lydia the moment they encountered the man on the street.
Mr. Wickham was with Denny and Sanderson, men with whom he was on familiar terms. They had not, Kitty reflected, seen Mr. Wickham since before the ball. Had Mr. Wickham paid her more attention than Lydia, Kitty might have been pleased to see him. As it was, she preferred Denny’s society.
“Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia,” said Mr. Wickham, bowing low and directing a winsome smile at them. “I am happy to see you this morning.”
“As we are to see you.” Lydia adopted a playful tone she often used with the officers and said: “How we are to forgive you, I do not know; you broke all our hearts when you neglected to come to the ball at Netherfield. How can you account for such willful disregard for our feelings?”
Mr. Wickham laughed as Lydia had intended. “Please accept my most abject apologies, Miss Lydia. It was, as I am certain Denny informed you, a most particular matter of business that took me to town and prevented my attendance.”
“Though it may not have been so particular if a certain gentleman had not been present,” jested Mr. Denny.
“Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed Lydia, eyes wide. “Did you not have an unfortunate history with the gentleman?”
“Where did you hear that?” asked Mr. Wickham, though his manner suggested he knew very well.
“From your fellow officers.”
“At the ball,” said Mr. Denny, “I informed them of what little I knew of the matter.”
Mr. Wickham appeared disappointed, which unsettled Kitty, though she could not yet say why. “It concerns a living left to me in the late Mr. Darcy’s will. After his father’s passing, the son refused to honor his father’s wishes.”
“How cruel!” exclaimed Kitty, the first time she had spoken.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Wickham,” said Lydia, giving the officer a coy smile, “but I cannot consider it much of a loss.”
Mr. Wickham’s smile was almost wolfish in a way that made Kitty shudder. “Is that so, Miss Lydia? Are you of the opinion that I deserved to have my future prospects dashed?”
“You would have been wasted in the church, Mr. Wickham,” said Lydia. “Scarlet suits you much better. And if you had not come to Meryton, we never would have made your acquaintance.”
“I thank you for your kind words,” said Mr. Wickham with a laugh. “Though I regret the life I might have had, I echo your sentiments. I hope our friendship will continue to grow into something closer.”
The way he stared at Lydia when he spoke brought a slight shiver to Kitty’s spine. There was something in that look that did not please her, though she could not say exactly what it was. Lydia spoke again, so Kitty had no time to consider it.
“I agree, Mr. Wickham, but I should tell you something. You see, Mr. Darcy is not the only Darcy present. Last night, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, and Miss Georgiana Darcy dined at Longbourn.”
Had Kitty not been watching Mr. Wickham, she might not have seen the expression of utter stupefaction, shaded by what looked like a hint of apprehension.
“Miss Darcy has come to Meryton?”
“It appears to be so,” replied Lydia. “In truth, I cannot like the girl much. She says little, and when she does, she speaks of boring subjects such as music. When Kitty and I attempted conversation, she was silent as a mouse.”
Kitty thought that was a little unfair—Miss Darcy had seemed shy, an affliction Kitty could well understand, having grown up as the invisible companion to the livelier younger sister.
“Rather, she is as proud as her brother,” said Mr. Wickham, a peculiar gleam in his eyes. “Given Darcy’s defects, it is not surprising she turned out that way.”
Lydia appeared satisfied and changed the subject.
It was not long thereafter that they moved along, soon gaining the road back to Longbourn while the officers returned to their barracks.
Kitty was not certain what to make of all that had happened.
Though she had never suspected Mr. Wickham of being anything other than the excellent man he portrayed, she now wondered if there was more to him than his easy manners suggested.
AS GEORGE WICKHAM WALKED back to the barracks with his fellows, he considered what he had just learned. It was curious that Darcy would bring his sister to Meryton into a situation where Wickham was nearby. He might not have expected it of the man, nor that his timid sister would agree to it.
“Well, Wickham,” said Denny, interrupting Wickham’s thoughts. “It appears your old adversary has returned to Meryton. What do you mean to do about it?”
“Do you suppose there is anything I can do about Darcy?”
“Perhaps not,” agreed Denny. “But surely his offenses against you merit some retribution.” Denny stepped closer and elbowed Wickham in the side. “As a woman of her standing, perhaps Miss Darcy’s dowry is enough to provoke your personal attention, eh?”
It was all Wickham could do to keep his countenance. Even though it was a jest, Denny had come too close to the truth for comfort. Wickham spoke at once to deflect.
“One does not simply pay Miss Darcy attention under her brother’s nose. She is but sixteen, and her brother is jealous of their standing and has the earl’s support. Should I attempt such a thing, I have no doubt it would bring Darcy’s wrath down on my head.”
“That is unfortunate,” said Denny with an exaggerated sigh. “She must have a dowry to tempt any man.”
“Thirty thousand pounds,” said Wickham, though preoccupied.
Denny was correct—such a dowry would have set Wickham up for life. The old rage at Darcy for ruining his plans rose in his breast. To be thwarted by mere chance was almost more than he could bear!
As Denny prattled on, Wickham listened to only one word in three. More interesting were his thoughts about what he might do with the information, how he could twist matters in his favor.
The path to Georgiana’s dowry was, unfortunately, gone forever; by now, Darcy must have informed her of their dealings, poisoning her against him.
Georgiana, shy and trusting as she was, would never dream of questioning her brother’s account.
Even if he could somehow get her to Gretna Green, one needed a willing bride, and Wickham did not think she would ever be one again for him.
The notion of compromising her was equally beyond his abilities, for Wickham ending up on a ship bound for Van Diemen’s Land or worse was a more likely result of any such action.
Could he threaten to expose Ramsgate to the neighborhood to extort a sum of money from Darcy for his silence?
So blunt an instrument would not succeed, he thought, for Darcy would just as easily call Fitzwilliam to Meryton.
Wickham did not like his chances of surviving an encounter with Fitzwilliam, not after the Ramsgate affair last summer.
There might be a way to profit from it, but he was not certain how at this moment.
He would need to keep his eyes open and seize any opening that came about.
And if the opportunity never came? Well, then, a little revenge would need to suffice.
Wickham thought he could lay the groundwork for that, then disappear as he so often did.
He would not see it, but he could well imagine moving on to the next place with a smile at the thought of the havoc he left behind.
INCLINED TO DISMISS it though he was, Darcy could not help but consider what his sister had said earlier that day.
That a tender heart such as Georgiana’s was disposed to approve of the Bennets and believe Miss Bennet welcomed Bingley’s interest was evidence of her goodness.
It would be best for Georgiana to gain a little discernment, which would serve her well in society, but it was not displeasing.
What concerned Darcy was not her opinion, but the notion that Miss Elizabeth thought he disapproved of her.
It was curious, he supposed, that he should concern himself so much for the notion.
On a certain level, Darcy did disapprove, though that was his reaction to her family’s overt efforts to secure his friend.
Of the woman herself, Darcy did not disapprove, nor did he think anyone with an ounce of understanding could disapprove of her, and if they did, it was likely motivated by dislike or jealousy. Miss Bingley came to mind.
There was much to like about Miss Elizabeth Bennet—Darcy had already enumerated her qualities so many times that he could recite them by heart.
If she had even a limited fortune or connections that would not make one blush, she would be the perfect wife to any man of society—the perfect wife to Darcy himself.
The attraction he felt had not disappeared.
If anything, the past week in her company had increased his admiration.
It had grown to the extent of crowding out other thoughts—when faced with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, other subjects grew uninteresting.
If only she were suitable! Then he could make her an offer in spite of her improper family, remove her to the north, where she could meet her full potential.
Yet, it was said that if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
Darcy’s wishes in this matter were immaterial—the situation was what it was, and nothing he could do would alter it.
The best outcome for all concerned was for Darcy to persuade Bingley against his mad design of pursuing Miss Bennet, then for them all to leave this place behind forever.
Then he could place himself beyond her influence, put himself beyond the force of her allure.
“Miss Darcy is correct, you know—about Miss Bennet.”
Darcy eyed his friend, wondering where Bingley’s comment had come from.
Georgiana had returned to her room a short time earlier to rest before dinner, leaving the two friends in companionable silence.
Then again, Darcy did not even know if it was pleasant, for his thoughts had prevented him from attending his friend.
“Her thoughts about Miss Bennet,” clarified Bingley before Darcy could ask. “I asked her about Miss Bennet, and she told me that she thinks Miss Bennet is lovely and more particularly suited to me.”
Had Darcy not worked to bolster his sister’s confidence, he might have espoused the wish that Georgiana had kept her thoughts to herself.
“I have never said that Miss Bennet was not suited to you, Bingley. The only thing I question is whether her affection for you is sincere or the product of her mother’s interest in capturing you for her family’s benefit. ”
“Then you confess that we are well matched,” pressed Bingley.
Darcy sighed, not wanting to have this conversation.
“Bingley, in the end, the only measure of compatibility is your own. The only aim I have in mind is your happiness—I do not seek to thwart your designs. Should you choose in Miss Bennet’s favor, I may have misgivings, but I have no means of preventing you, even if I wished to do so. ”
“You will support me if that is what I choose?”
“Of course, I will,” replied Darcy, opting against telling Bingley how disappointed he would be. “As I have said repeatedly, you are your own man and may do as you like.”
“Thank you for that, Darcy. I understand that you do not approve, but I appreciate your forbearance, nonetheless.”
“Do not call it forbearance, my friend. Call it a sincere interest in your welfare.”
“It is appreciated,” said Bingley. His jaw tightened. “It is more than I have received from Caroline.”
Darcy shook his head. “I hope you do not consider me capable of the same deception.”
“No, I do not consider it.”
With that, Bingley fell silent, leaving Darcy to his thoughts again.
Though Darcy was still determined to prevent his friend from making a mistake, his thoughts and the subsequent conversation had led him to several conclusions.
Perhaps there was more at work—at least from Miss Elizabeth—than he had thought, though he could not say what it was.
And Darcy knew that should Bingley decide in Miss Bennet’s favor, he would have no choice but to step back and allow Bingley to make his mistake, if it proved to be a mistake.
To do otherwise might cause the end of their friendship.