Chapter VIII #2
“What am I to think?” replied Elizabeth, frustrated.
“Mr. Wickham told me that you have thrown off a childhood friend against your father’s wishes.
Though it is now clear to me that Mr. Wickham’s behavior is not without error, your father wished to ensure his support, and you acted to withhold that support.
If you can offer another interpretation, please illuminate my understanding. ”
Mr. Darcy’s mien became positively forbidding.
“It would be prudent to refrain from speaking of a situation you know nothing about, Miss Elizabeth. If my warning about Wickham’s friendships was not enough, let me say it clearly and without disguise.
He is a bounder. If you give him even a hint of an opportunity, you will one day regret it. ”
“And yet, you have not told me why he is so bad.”
“That is information I shall not share.” Mr. Darcy’s eyes raked over her with contempt. “As you said, you are free to reject my counsel if you choose. Do not act shocked when he reveals his true self.”
“At this point,” said Elizabeth, her anger loosening her tongue, “nothing could surprise me, not stories of libertines, false friends, or men who interfere with their friends’ affairs for nothing more than pride and caprice.”
“Just as I am not surprised by those who attempt to push their family’s interests ahead of any other concern.”
“Your blindness is astonishing.”
“As is your greed.”
They stood for several moments, glaring at each other, the air crackling with the tension between them. Then Mr. Darcy bowed, a slight gesture he may as well have refrained from making.
“This conversation is over, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, stiff with offense. “Know that you will not achieve your designs without opposition.”
Then he stalked away, leaving Elizabeth glaring at his retreating back.
The confrontation did not go unnoticed—Georgiana was watching them with concern, while Mrs. Bennet regarded Mr. Darcy with terror and Elizabeth with reproach.
Elizabeth remained composed, annoyed with the gentleman, but knowing she had said things she should have swallowed.
In time, the Netherfield party rose to depart, extending warm wishes and promises to meet again soon from Georgiana and Mr. Bingley. From Mr. Darcy, there was nothing but grave silence. The moment they were gone, Mrs. Bennet rounded on Elizabeth.
“Lizzy! What do you mean by antagonizing Mr. Darcy?”
“You suppose that I antagonized Mr. Darcy?” said Elizabeth, keeping her composure.
“Did you not? The man was most displeased with your impertinence.”
“Or perhaps he was the one at fault, Mama.”
Mrs. Bennet closed her eyes, an unusual attempt at patience when she almost always released her displeasure with cries of anger and expressions of impending calamity. When she peered at Elizabeth again, there was steel in her gaze.
“Lizzy, I require you to cease provoking Mr. Darcy. Do you not know that he has excessive influence over his friend? If you continue to anger him, he might persuade Mr. Bingley away from Jane. Then where will we be?”
“Do you suppose that Mr. Darcy is a friend of Mr. Bingley’s interest in Jane?” demanded Elizabeth. “Has the man not sat in judgment of us all from the moment he came to Meryton?”
“That is exactly why you must take care, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth shook her head, aware that arguing with her mother was akin to trying to lift Longbourn itself with one hand.
“You do not need to concern yourself, Mama. Not only will I take care not to antagonize Mr. Darcy, but if you think about it, Mr. Bingley is here of his own accord. He will not listen to Mr. Darcy if he counsels Mr. Bingley to give Jane up.”
“Mr. Bingley has given me his assurances,” said Jane, eyes wide at the argument.
“Until he proposes, it is still uncertain,” snapped Mrs. Bennet.
“There is no need to further discuss this, Mama,” replied Elizabeth. “I shall not vex Mr. Darcy.”
“See that you do not. Jane’s marriage to Mr. Bingley would save us—do nothing to put our salvation in jeopardy.”
With that, Mrs. Bennet flounced from the room.
Though Elizabeth was aware that thinking in such a way of one’s mother was not entirely proper, that did not mean it was not the truth.
Still, there was no point in antagonizing or worrying her mother.
If Mr. Darcy made any attempt to persuade his friend to withdraw, Elizabeth would deal with the gentleman, not that she thought Mr. Bingley would yield.
Mr. Darcy had entered a battlefield where the victor had already been determined—he might not accept defeat now, but in the end, he would have no other choice.
MRS. BENNET WAS CORRECT to worry about Mr. Darcy’s actions, and Elizabeth was correct in believing that Mr. Bingley did not mean to listen to his friend.
Neither were aware of this, of course, though Mrs. Bennet fretted and Elizabeth dismissed.
Georgiana Darcy, however, was present for both, and while she was annoyed with her brother—a novel concept to one who had always looked up to him with a certain measure of awe—she was pleased with Mr. Bingley’s determination to remain unmoved.
“Bingley, this is madness,” said William for perhaps the fifth time since they had returned from Longbourn. “Miss Bennet is a gentlewoman, but she is not the sort of woman you should be considering as a prospective bride. She can bring nothing to the marriage.”
“She will bring herself,” replied Mr. Bingley, unmoved by any argument. “That is enough for me.”
“Do you not concern yourself with the family? Should you marry Miss Bennet, you will be responsible for them should Mr. Bennet suffer an untimely demise. Given the characters of the younger girls, I cannot imagine any of them will find husbands. Do you wish to support them for years to come?”
“You are harsh, Darcy. Are you now an oracle? Do you have some preternatural ability to predict the futures of all the Bennets?”
“Do not be ridiculous! I am merely trying to save you from a future of regret.”
That sent Mr. Bingley over the edge. “Darcy, I appreciate your concern, but I require you to step back.”
“Bingley—”
“No, Darcy, not another word.” The way Mr. Bingley was glaring at William left no doubt as to his feelings on the subject.
“As I told you when you joined me here, I am my own man and will choose my path in life. I have not yet proposed to Miss Bennet, but when I am ready, I shall. The Bennets’ situation does not deter me, and the future implications do not give me a moment’s pause.
If you cannot respect this, then I will need you to absent yourself from my company. I shall not discuss this again.”
With that, Mr. Bingley rose and departed the room.
William, Georgiana could easily see, was not pleased by his friend’s ultimatum, for he wore a ferocious scowl.
Not for the first time, Georgiana wondered why this was so important to him—if Mr. Bingley erred in his choice of a wife and suffered the consequences, what was that to him?
Georgiana had her own matter to discuss with her brother, but she knew now was not the time.
Better to wait until his temper cooled and then raise the subject—she did not suppose he would be any more pleased with what she had to say than he was with Mr. Bingley’s response.
It was some relief to Georgiana that the rest of the day passed without further argument, though the discord hung over them like a gathering cloud.
William was brooding, his frequent glances at Mr. Bingley throughout the day suggesting some attempt to discover an argument that would bring his friend to his opinion.
That he discovered nothing was evident in his occasional muttering and the continued darkness that stayed with him.
Mr. Bingley, by contrast, ignored William’s mood, contenting himself with conversation with Georgiana interspersed with occasional attempts at other occupations.
By the time the evening waned, the atmosphere was charged, like a thunderstorm threatening on the horizon.
At length, Mr. Bingley excused himself to retire, and William, with no other choice, decided to do the same.
Georgiana went to her rooms, but she only stayed there until she was certain that Mr. Bingley was ensconced in his chambers.
Then she left her room and approached William’s door, knocking when she reached it. Snell, her brother’s valet, answered.
“Miss Darcy,” he intoned with his usual lack of inflection.
“I need to speak to my brother, Mr. Snell. It may be best if you absent yourself for the moment.”
The way he regarded her, Georgiana was certain William’s mood had not escaped his attention. Instead of replying, he gestured her into the room and turned to William, who was standing by the window on the far wall, staring out into the night.
“Miss Darcy has come to speak to you, Mr. Darcy. I shall be in your dressing room should you have need of me.”
William turned as Mr. Snell bowed and retreated to the bedchamber. “Yes, Georgiana? What is it?”
Rarely had Georgiana heard her brother use such a shortness of tone with her. There was no need to point it out, so she ignored it.
“Brother, I have something to ask you.”
His expression softening, William gestured to the sofa, though he made no move to sit himself. Having no wish to feel like a supplicant, Georgiana remained standing.
“Brother, I noticed you argued with Miss Elizabeth before we left Longbourn. Can you tell me about it?”
For a moment, William appeared startled that she dared to ask him about it. “It is none of your concern, Georgiana.”
“In fact,” replied she, “I am certain it is. Given my experiences with George Wickham, any matter concerning his actions is my business, especially when it is also about someone I consider a friend.”
When William did not respond at once, Georgiana pressed him again.
“William, do not suggest that my understanding is faulty. Mr. Wickham was in that room, plying Miss Elizabeth with his persuasion, and he made his intentions clear. Then you argued with Miss Elizabeth. I wish to know of what your argument consisted.”
William was a stubborn man, and he was unaccustomed to dealing with a sister who insisted rather than trusted. After some resistance, eventually William told her all. Georgiana was not pleased by what she heard.
“Brother,” said she, fighting to keep her vexation in check, “let us discuss these points one at a time so that you understand my sentiments. First, I am not offended that Miss Elizabeth did not view Mr. Wickham’s account of me with suspicion.
Given Mr. Wickham’s character, I am not surprised he spoke against us both. ”
“No, that much is certain,” agreed William, though he still appeared put out. “Miss Elizabeth should have exercised more caution in dealing with him, but Wickham is credible when he wants to be.”
Pleased that he had allowed that much, Georgiana continued to her next point.
“Second is this business with Mr. Bingley. I shall not reiterate my opinion in opposition to your own. Suffice to say that I believe Miss Bennet’s sentiments are genuine.
The more pressing point is how you insist on sharing your opinion with Mr. Bingley.
Let me be blunt—if you continue to speak against Miss Bennet, you risk the dissolution of your friendship. ”
This time, William sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Seeming unable to bear his weight, he sat heavily in a nearby chair, staring moodily at nothing.
“Unfortunate though it is, I cannot but suppose you are correct.”
“Why is it so important that you carry your point?” asked Georgiana.
“It is not, I suppose,” replied William. “It is just . . . I have often been a mentor to Bingley, almost like an elder brother. I cannot . . . Standing by while he makes a mistake—or what I believe will be a mistake—is difficult.”
“That is understandable, Brother, and laudable that you take such prodigious care of Mr. Bingley. But the time has come to allow him to make his choice, lest your repeated objections lead to the end of your friendship.”
“I trust, Sister, that you will allow me the hope that Bingley will come to his senses.”
“You may hope all you like,” replied Georgiana. “Insisting on your interpretation, however, may destroy something you hold dear.
“Finally, I wish to speak of Mr. Wickham, and particularly why he is still free to do as he will.”
William looked up at her with some confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Only that you had the power to check him when he came into the neighborhood, and you did not choose to exercise it.”
William’s expression darkened. “I am no longer responsible for Wickham’s actions, Georgiana. No one can say that I have not done enough.”
“Taking responsibility for Mr. Wickham and warning the townsfolk against him are not the same,” insisted Georgiana.
“Do you not suppose he would have ruined your reputation should I have spoken against him?”
“I put nothing past him, William,” replied Georgiana. “If his threats today at Longbourn did not brand him as a man without principle, everything you have told me about him does. But I am not afraid of him.”
“You are disposed to believe no one will listen?”
“Yes,” said Georgiana simply. “Even if they did, no one in this town has a presence in London. I doubt any gossip would ever leave the neighborhood.”
The sigh that escaped William’s lips was one of profound weariness. “Perhaps I might have considered better, but I was thinking about you and my disinclination to have any contact at all with him.”
“If that is what you wish, then take action against him.” Georgiana gave her brother a tight grin. “If you put an end to Mr. Wickham’s interference, he will have no more power to vex us.”
“That is true,” mused William, his thoughts turning contemplative.
“First,” said Georgiana, “we must ensure that Miss Elizabeth knows the truth about Mr. Wickham. I mean to ensure she understands.”
“Very well. You have my support.”
Georgiana departed, eager to return some of the misery Mr. Wickham’s actions had caused her. When she was done with him, Mr. Wickham would rue the day he conceived the notion of seducing her. It was long overdue.