Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
When the priest reached the reading of the banns and began, "I publish the banns of marriage between…” Elizabeth forgot all about Mrs. Clegg, and Mr. Wickham and Miss Bingley.
She studied Mr. Darcy’s profile, taking in his smile.
He looked her way again, and an ache filled her not to be seated beside him.
The service couldn’t end soon enough for her.
Nor did it end soon, the priest apparently deeming them in need of additional words of salvation that week.
Elizabeth worked not to fidget, feeling as she used to as a little girl, waiting breathlessly for service to be over so she could mingle with her friends.
Finally, the moment came, and she fell into line with everyone else filing out, eager to see Mr. Darcy.
When she reached him, she took in the barely discernible lines of strain about his mouth and frowned, her own worries coming back to her. “Something is troubling you?”
“May I walk you to your carriage?” He gestured to where her father’s conveyance waited, far down the line, as they’d been last to arrive.
Unable not to smile at Mr. Darcy, despite his and her strain, Elizabeth placed her hand on his arm. “I should be overjoyed to permit you to.”
He smiled back and started them down the line of vehicles and horses, away from the throng waiting at the top of the drive. “I’ve unsettling news.”
“Oh.” She wondered if she wished to know but knew she must hear. “About Mr. Wickham?”
“About Mrs. Clegg. My men cannot locate her, but a woman matching her description has been seen several times in Meryton.”
“So, I did see her,” Elizabeth said, both unsettled to have Mrs. Clegg near and relieved to know she wasn’t imagining her nemesis lurking around corners.
“But tomorrow, we’ll head to London.” Mr. Darcy placed his free hand over the one Elizabeth rested on his arm, warm, strong and reassuring. “She will not know where we’ve gone, or likely have the funds to come after us quickly.”
“And we certainly won’t permit Mrs. Clegg to tarnish Miss de Bourgh and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s wedding.” Above, clouds covered the sun, giving the day a leaden look that Elizabeth felt lent an overly grim cast to what she’d meant as brave words.
Mr. Darcy nodded. “Certainly not. I’d also prefer if we don’t mention Mrs. Clegg to Georgiana. She’s grown a bit bolder, thanks in most part to you, and I don’t want her confidence in going out into the world shaken.”
“That’s reasonable. Unless a circumstance arises where she needs to know, there is no reason to tell her.”
“Why did you ask about Mr. Wickham?”
“Lydia admitted she does have a way to reach him. She said that after I asked how he might be reached, he gave her a name to contact in case of emergency, and that she wrote to him about Mary’s and my plans to wed.”
“What is the name?”
“A Mrs. Younge, in London, is all she said. I can try to find out more, but she will be very stubborn.”
“There’s no need,” Mr. Darcy said, voice suddenly grim. “I know how to locate Mrs. Younge.”
Elizabeth cast him a surprised look. “You know her?”
He halted, turning to face her, though they hadn’t yet reached her father’s carriage. “I’ve never told you why I so vehemently despise Mr. Wickham.” He cast a quick look about, but the congregation still mingled in bulk in the trampled snow outside the church.
“You do not have to tell me. You must have good reasons.”
Mr. Darcy stared over her shoulder into the gray sky, gaze unfocused, then shook his head. “Thank you, but you should know, as you will be partially responsible for Georgiana after we wed.”
“Georgiana?” A sinking feeling settled over Elizabeth. If Mr. Darcy’s dislike of Mr. Wickham had to do with Georgiana, it must be something terrible. She only hoped not too terrible.
“Mrs. Younge was her governess and gave Wickham access to her. I’m not certain what he promised Mrs. Younge in exchange for her help, but he convinced Georgiana to elope with him.”
“But, she’s only fifteen,” Elizabeth gasped. “Tell me this wasn’t too long ago?” How young had Miss Darcy been?
“It was this past summer.” Mr. Darcy shook his head again. “Wickham and I had our troubles, with me paying his debts and him asking for compensation for the living, then attempting to secure it, but we grew up together. I didn’t hate him. I thought he’d simply lost his way.”
“But then he attempted to run off with your sister.” And to think, Elizabeth had accused Mr. Darcy of behaving unfairly to Mr. Wickham. Thankfulness that he’d forgiven her filled her.
“He wanted her dowry. He wanted vengeance on me for not giving him the living when he came back for it.”
“But she didn’t go away with him?” Elizabeth asked hopefully, wondering how great a secret Mr. Darcy was revealing to her.
“She did not,” he said firmly. “She is not compromised, though I can only imagine the rumors should what nearly happened ever come out. She changed her mind and told me about the plan, and I set the matter right.”
He said that in so grim a way, Elizabeth nearly shuddered. Then she recalled that he spoke of Mr. Wickham, and decided that whatever Mr. Darcy had done, it hadn’t been dire enough. Mr. Wickham didn’t appear repentant, and he’d tried his wiles on her little sister, another girl of fifteen.
“When we reach London, I will go to Mrs. Younge and find out how to locate Wickham,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Will she tell you?”
“She will.”
“You two look awfully grim for an engaged couple,” Mary’s voice said.
Elizabeth turned to see her and Gavin, arm in arm, nearing them, and mustered a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Murphy. Are you ready to visit London?”
Gavin dipped his head in a nod. “I am, and I thank you again, Mr. Darcy, for offering me accommodations in your home.”
Mr. Darcy returned Gavin’s nod. “We’re to be brothers soon. It is only reasonable.”
“I only wish we could all stay with you, Mr. Darcy,” Mary said. “Meaning no disparagement to our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. It would simply be more pleasant to be all together.”
“And more scandalous,” Elizabeth said in mock dismay. “Two unmarried young ladies in the same home as the gentleman they’re engaged to.”
Mary shrugged. “Jane did so, and her reputation didn’t suffer.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Jane’s reputation is impervious.”
“As is mine,” Mary said primly, but with amusement in her eyes. She turned to Mr. Darcy. “Charlotte Lucas said that their house guest, Mr. Greyson, seemed to believe his interview with you went well.”
Both amused to see Mary making conversation, rather than quoting books, and pleased at how her sister bloomed with Gavin’s encouragement, Elizabeth smiled.
“I’d nearly forgotten he journeyed here for the interview and is staying with the Lucases.
Both his willingness to make the trip and his connection to them must have recommended him before the interview even took place. ”
“They did,” Mr. Darcy agreed. “I intend to offer him the position.”
“That should please Charlotte,” Mary said.
“Why do you say that?” Elizabeth asked, suddenly guilty and jealous that Mary had spent time with Elizabeth’s dearest friend. Elizabeth had been devoting her days almost exclusively to Mr. Darcy.
“Something she said when Gavin and I visited so I could sketch the table and footstool he built them.”
Before Elizabeth could ask more, their parents reached them, a sulky Lydia walking between them, apparently tired of after church chatter and impatient with the unmoving row of carriages.
Everyone made their farewells, Mr. Darcy reaffirming that he’d arrive the next morning to take them to London.
Elizabeth returned to Goldfinch Cottage feeling lighter than before, happy they’d soon leave Meryton, and Mrs. Clegg, behind them, even if for a few days.
She only hoped Mr. Wickham, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Clegg could be found before they returned for the banns to be read a third time.