Chapter XIX #2
“You are welcome at any time convenient, Mr. Darcy,” said she, “though I suppose you must have some particular reason for returning. Are the pangs occasioned by your separation from my friend such that you cannot even countenance a few hours apart?”
William grinned, unrepentant. “You have the right of it, Mrs. Collins, though I will say that even a brief separation from her is not palatable.”
“Then you had best inform us of why you have come.”
“I have received word from Fitzwilliam.”
Curious, Elizabeth regarded him. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s sudden departure from Kent had come as a surprise—William had often jested that he depended on his cousin to help him endure his aunt.
Elizabeth viewed that last bit with a healthy respect for the apparent changes in Lady Catherine.
Given some of what she observed from the lady, Elizabeth suspected she could be a tyrant when she put her mind to it, but her behavior had been almost cordial since her arrival.
“Yes,” replied William, “for you see, Fitzwilliam has been engaged in a most important task since January, one that will interest you.”
“That is curious, Mr. Darcy, for I have heard nothing of it. What is this task of which you speak?”
“Discovering the location of our deserter.”
Elizabeth understood what he meant at once. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has been looking for Mr. Wickham?”
“Today, he sent word that he had captured Mr. Wickham. That is the reason for his return to London—his men had closed in on his whereabouts, and he left to ensure there were no mistakes.”
“Then Mr. Wickham will be called to account for his crimes.”
“That he will, Elizabeth,” replied William.
“I am pleased to hear it.”
“What will happen to him?” asked Charlotte.
“Court-martial and likely debtors’ prison—unless they decide to have him transported.”
Elizabeth nodded, considering the situation. “Given the amount of his debts, transportation might be for the best—there is no way he will ever pay what he owes.”
“That is my thought also.” William shrugged as if the matter was one of indifference to him—it was, Elizabeth knew, for he had washed his hands of the libertine years before.
“For that, you could have waited until we arrived at Rosings,” said Elizabeth.
“And refuse the excuse to see you again? Never!”
Elizabeth laughed.
ELIZABETH WAS MOST displeased with her father.
Though they had made significant progress in reforming Kitty and Lydia’s behavior, he proposed to allow Lydia to accept this invitation from a woman only a few years older and no wiser than Lydia was herself.
Mr. Wickham was no longer a threat, but how many others of his ilk were part of the regiment?
“Papa,” said Elizabeth, trying to maintain her calm, “to allow Lydia to go to Brighton is folly. She has improved, but all that improvement will be undone if she goes with only Mrs. Forster for guidance.”
Mr. Bennet regarded her, his diversion suggesting he knew something that she did not. “Do you have so little respect for Colonel Forster’s abilities?”
“Colonel Forster will not have the primary responsibility for my heedless sister,” rejoined Elizabeth. “The colonel must concern himself with the regiment. When he is away on business, Lydia must rely on Mrs. Forster, a woman as silly as Lydia.”
Mr. Bennet was barely restraining his mirth. “Then what shall I do? Lydia will be impossible if I inform her that she will not go.”
“That is better than allowing her to ruin our reputation.”
“Oh, I do not think it is so bad as that, Lizzy. In fact, I shall predict that Lydia will emerge from the next months unscathed, though still as silly. When you are married, you can invite her to your new home in the north—when your husband fixes her with his implacable glare, I have no doubt he will reform her in an instant.”
“Papa,” chided Elizabeth. “This is no laughing matter.”
“No, I dare say it is not. Your engagement to Darcy appears to have done you good—you would not have spoken to me so severely before.”
“If you wish, I shall have William speak to you. Lydia’s behavior will now reflect on him.”
It appeared she had gone too far in her pique, for her father lost some of his diversion. He peered at her for a moment, then grinned again, his amusement restored.
“I will ignore your last comment, Lizzy, for I know you did not mean to diminish me in favor of your future husband.”
Abashed, Elizabeth stammered: “N-No, indeed, Papa.”
“I am not so fearsome as he, my dear, but I am not blind. This situation is my own doing, for I led you on when I should have been reassuring you.’
Suspicious, Elizabeth asked: “What do you mean?”
“Just that you were too hasty in your denunciation of this scheme. There was no need for me to forbid Lydia from going, for your mother refused to hear of it the moment Lydia raised the subject.”
That caught Elizabeth by surprise. “Mama forbid her?”
“She did. With your wedding approaching, your mother had no wish to allow your sister to go off to Brighton when she wishes all her daughters present to witness her triumph.”
Elizabeth regarded him, wondering how this all came about. “Then why has Lydia not lamented her ill fortune?”
“If you recall, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet, “Lydia has been absent this morning. While you were out on your walk, your mother informed her that she was not going, and when Lydia started making a fuss, she sent Lydia to her room, threatening to return her to the nursery if she persisted.”
Understanding dawned on Elizabeth. “That is why she is not teasing Kitty for her good fortune and wearying us all with her cries of happiness.”
“It is,” agreed Mr. Bennet, appearing bemused.
“I must say that your mother’s words on the subject have done far more than mine ever could—for as a co-conspirator in your sister’s antics, her threat was a blow to Lydia’s confidence.
I cannot say she will not cry about it in the future, but for now, I suspect she will walk softly. ”
WHEN ELIZABETH SPOKE to William later in the day, she found him diverted by the account of her conversation with her father. “Your father is an intelligent man, Elizabeth.”
“And one who prefers to keep his youngest daughters at arm’s length,” retorted Elizabeth. “I maintain that I was correct to worry that Lydia would go to Brighton and ruin us all.”
William nodded, but he did not speak to either support or reject her opinion. “There is no need to worry, for she will not go. Was your father annoyed with your presumption?”
Elizabeth glared at him. “It is not presumption. Papa has always appreciated my counsel. Today, he appeared more gleeful than anything, no doubt because he knew something I did not and wished to tease me.”
“You are so skilled at teasing others that it surprises you when the tables are turned.”
“Not at all, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “I can accept teasing when the occasion permits. This morning, I thought the situation was serious enough that it should not be attempted.”
They continued to walk in the wilderness behind Longbourn, the late spring sun warming them, a harbinger of the happiness Elizabeth anticipated, of a life with Mr. Darcy.
The dual wedding with Jane and Mr. Bingley was now only weeks away, after which they would depart for their wedding tour and the life to follow.
“This is . . . almost a dream,” said Mr. Darcy, echoing Elizabeth’s thoughts.
“The speed at which we came to an accord?”
The gentleman smiled at her, patting her hand on his arm with his free hand. “I thought I would spend months convincing you to accept me.”
“Perhaps I should have required it of you,” said Elizabeth, a trifle primly. “If you had seen me for the gem I am in October, we would already be married.”
“I beg your pardon, Elizabeth,” was his wry reply. “I should have considered better.”
“The important thing is that you did,” replied Elizabeth. “Regardless of how long it took.”
“With that, I cannot disagree.”
Mr. Darcy paused and turned to her, his fingers lifting her chin as he leaned down to kiss her.
The speed of their engagement was of no consequence to Elizabeth, for she knew she loved him and wished him to be her husband.
She sighed as she felt his lips on hers, knowing that this unlikely wish she had shared with Jane, to marry for love, was on the cusp of becoming a reality. Elizabeth could not be happier.
WHEN THE WEDDING CAME, it was celebrated by all as an excellent match, not only Mr. Bingley and Jane; but Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth were now deemed the most suited of all couples, the discord of the previous autumn all but forgotten.
Even Mr. Darcy’s most prominent relations joined the celebrations, lending their support to the union—an unlooked-for boon.
The earl and countess dazzled the locals with their kindness, and even Lady Catherine appeared pleased, though there was a hint of melancholy hanging around her. Miss de Bourgh appeared merely smug.
In the ensuing years, the Darcys and Bingleys started families, each producing several children they raised in love and harmony.
Kitty and Lydia, though they remained lively, learned better manners, and together with Mary, they found their paths in life, which, though they did not include marriage to men as wealthy as their elder siblings’ husbands, provided them with happiness and fulfillment.
With Charlotte, Elizabeth remained friendly, though her home was distant from Mr. Collins’s living in Kent.
Their friendship might have been more inaccessible if Lady Catherine had opposed their marriage, but her support, though not enthusiastic, allowed the Darcys to stay at Rosings from time to time and provided Elizabeth and Charlotte opportunities to be in each other’s company.
Even Mr. Collins became more tolerable as the years of his marriage lengthened, and Elizabeth suspected it was because of Charlotte’s influence.
He remained servile and silly, but he learned better when to speak and when to be silent, which was the most important improvement of all.
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet continued to live at Longbourn, though they were engaged in traveling to visit their married daughters, Derbyshire, where Elizabeth and Jane lived, their most common destination.
Mrs. Bennet also enjoyed visiting her younger daughters.
Mr. Bennet claimed to detest travel, yet he appeared at Pemberley so often that Elizabeth questioned his sincerity.
Mr. Bennet declared he came for Mr. Darcy’s books.
The most curious tale of all was Miss Bingley’s, for her life followed a path none of them could have predicted.
With Mr. Darcy’s engagement, she had no choice but to throw herself into the season, trying to find a man who exceeded Mr. Darcy’s standing.
To the shock of them all, she succeeded to an extent.
The man was a baron, higher in society than Mr. Darcy, but one notorious for dissipating his family’s wealth, engaging in the worst debaucheries, and in need of an influx of capital to save his failing estate.
“Caroline insists she will accept him,” said Bingley the day he learned of the proposal and his sister’s acceptance. “Hurst and Louisa have tried to make her see sense, but she will not listen.”
“Shall you go to London?” asked Darcy. It was only a week before the wedding, and Darcy knew his friend did not wish to depart from Hertfordshire at present, though he would go to protect his sister.
“It seems there is little point,” grumbled Bingley. “Caroline is of age and may do as she pleases.”
“She sees nothing other than the status he can give her,” observed Darcy.
“Aye, that is the truth,” agreed Bingley. “What she has chosen to ignore is that he will waste her dowry on his pursuits and she will be left with only the title, without even the trappings of wealth to bring her comfort.”
In the end, Miss Bingley married her baron, and matters proceeded as Darcy and Bingley had expected.
Within a year, the man had gutted much of her fortune.
When he died only eighteen months after their wedding, leaving no heir and a legacy in shambles, his penniless wife returned to the north to stay with her family, humiliated by how it had all come about.
Then had come the next surprise, for she had attracted the attention of a small landowner close to York and had married him.
Perhaps she learned the insufficiency of her pretensions or learned there were more important things in life than wealth and standing—the Darcys never learned the truth.
Mr. Bingley, however, reported that she appeared happier in her situation, though the siblings were not close forever after.
As for the Hursts, they became closer without the disruptive influence of Mrs. Hurst’s sister, and in time, they too produced several children.
With the Darcys and Bingleys, they remained forever intimate, as both Darcy and Elizabeth were sensible that Mr. Hurst had, by informing Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy of the truth of matters in Hertfordshire, brought about the conditions that secured their lasting happiness.
Mr. Hurst might be called dull or a bore, yet for that alone, he had their esteem.
The End