Chapter 12 #2
Darcy swallowed and nodded, then rose from his chair.
“Very well. I shall wait, as you both advise. In the meantime, you will make all possible inquiries to identify both the holder of the letters and the source of the scandal sheet story. I must have a name.”
A name. A real person to hold responsible for his recent misfortunes. A real opponent to vanquish. How Darcy needed something so tangible right now! Instead, he had only rumours, whispers, and anonymous sources.
On leaving his agent’s offices, Darcy trudged the streets of commercial London for some hours, keeping well away from the more fashionable districts where men and women of his own class lived and socialised.
Walking was the only solace he could imagine.
Darcy’s mind was heavy, and it felt as though his whole life was falling apart at the seams. It was good to know that Georgiana herself was safe, regardless of what happened to him, although he knew how distressed she would be if the gossip reached her ears.
Still, Mrs Annesley was too sensible to ever allow scandal sheets in the house, and Georgiana did not venture out alone.
One day, hopefully when she was a little older and wiser, Georgiana would meet and marry a good man of suitable rank and fortune. None of the present murk around Darcy could touch her, any more than George Wickham’s tainted promises.
As Mr Deringham had stated so clearly, it was only Darcy’s own reputation and prospects that must suffer under the present assault.
Reputation was always on Darcy’s mind, proud as he was of his descent and of Pemberley.
Marriage, however, had been a distant prospect requiring no present attention or concern.
Eight-and-twenty was no great age for a man, and he had felt no urgency.
Now, Darcy realised with unaccustomed dismay, many women of his own class would no longer welcome his addresses.
Having such rumours as these abroad cast a shadow over any potential courtship, even without the existence of those letters.
If the letters were actually published, he would become a social pariah.
Heiresses and the daughters of noblemen could easily find husbands without stained names. Their families would certainly no longer welcome Darcy’s suit. Even someone like Caroline Bingley, with family roots in trade, was no longer available to Darcy.
Indeed, Miss Bingley’s reaction offered a small taste of the treatment he could expect.
She had already made it clear that she would no longer call on her brother if Darcy was likely to be present.
Darcy expected that all the little “accidental” encounters she usually engineered around London parks and sights of interest would now cease too.
While Darcy had never wanted Caroline Bingley, nor encouraged her attentions, he could not deny having taken some pride in his own social superiority and more ancient lineage.
It was part of what gave him his assurance and sense of place in the world.
Without the respect and admiration of such people, the earth felt less firm beneath Darcy’s feet.
He almost despised himself for that.
Suddenly, Darcy’s eye was caught by a respectable middle-aged couple walking arm-in-arm and deep in conversation. There was nothing particularly unusual about the pair, but today the sight of them captured his attention.
Well-dressed, if not fashionable, the gentleman carried an umbrella and a leather document case that gave him the air of a successful man of business.
The lady’s face was sensible and assured, and she appeared to be counselling her presumed husband earnestly on something while he listened attentively, nodding at her words.
“Do you see, Edward?” he faintly heard her voice as they passed him in the street.
It was a warm and reasonable voice that fitted her face and expression perfectly.
“Yes, my dear, I do see. You are quite right, of course,” replied the man with equal warmth and great respect. “That is what we shall do.”
Darcy felt a pang as he continued walking away from the couple.
How lucky that man was to have such a supportive help-meet!
How good it would be to have such a wife at his own side right now, her interest in his well-being beyond doubt and her loyalty and good sense strong enough that any other ill-opinions could not touch him.
Independent and self-reliant from earliest childhood, for the first time in his life, Darcy understood loneliness.
Bingley was a steadfast friend, of course, but he was neither a clever nor forceful man, taking Darcy’s lead in most things.
Nor was even the best of friends a substitute for a devoted spouse, Darcy recognised.
How much better to have a strong, intelligent woman in whom he could confide, and in whose judgement he might trust as much as his own. Alas, it was likely too late now. There was surely no alliance Darcy could make that would not be a degradation to him.
Out of nowhere, the face of Elizabeth Bennet formed in his mind and lodged there, her lively hazel eyes and well-shaped, laughing mouth almost as true to life as though she had been standing before him in that city street. She really was a very comely young woman, of unusual spirit and wit.
Only her family stood against her. The young Bennet ladies were of gentle birth but lacking in titles, fortunes, or high connections.
Would it be beneath Darcy’s dignity to seek a connection with someone like Elizabeth Bennet, he wondered?
A few months earlier, he doubtless would have rejected the notion at once, but now he saw the merits of the union as much as its defects.
The fortune and position of Fitzwilliam Darcy might still mean something to a family like the Bennets, especially living so much in the countryside and apart from the worst of the London gossip.
Elizabeth Bennet knew the rumours, but her superior mind and generous heart meant that they had not affected her opinion of him, damaged though this opinion already was by that scoundrel Wickham.
Even with Wickham’s lies, Darcy supposed he might really have a good chance of being accepted by Elizabeth Bennet, should he choose to propose to her.
Thinking of her vulgar mother and that awful clergyman cousin gave him pause for thought, but Pemberley was quite some distance from either Longbourn or Rosings Park.
He did not suppose they would see these relatives often after their marriage.
After their marriage? Darcy caught himself in this assumption and backed up again.
Was he really set on returning to Hertfordshire and offering his hand and his name on the strength of observing one happy married couple in the street?
It was quite ridiculous, no matter how pleasing he found Elizabeth Bennet’s person or personality.
After all, what if some simple explanation emerged for those letters, and everything resolved itself within weeks?
He could come to badly regret such precipitate action.
His family had always made it clear what was expected of him.
How could he justify merely pleasing himself, even at a moment of such need?
The dilemma seemed impossible to resolve.
Darcy’s mind and heart tipped to and fro, torn between that his knowledge that the Bennets’ low connections and lack of fortune would be unacceptable to his remaining family and his own feeling that Elizabeth Bennet was the only person who could give him new strength and heart to fight his unseen enemy.
As he made his way back towards Darcy House, Darcy came to a decision.
By Mr Moreton and Mr Deringham’s advice, he was already bound to wait for intelligence on whoever was seeking to destroy his reputation.
He would be in London until after Christmas and likely longer.
Similarly, Darcy would wait before proposing marriage to Elizabeth Bennet, and see whether the storm blew over before the spring.
If it did, Darcy might not need a wife at all, or he might choose one with greater dowry or social advantages that would add to the Darcy family’s position and influence. If the storm only grew fiercer, however, then he would be grateful for the safe harbour that Elizabeth Bennet represented.
In Darcy’s head now, the image of that young woman looked on him with distinct disapproval, and for a moment, his confidence in his logic faltered.
Had he misjudged something? No, he was sure it all made sense and, with an effort of will, he banished the image entirely and renewed his determination.
The choice was made. If he was still in such trouble the next time their paths crossed, Darcy would propose to Elizabeth Bennet at the first opportunity.