Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
A TRIP TO LONDON
Later that morning, Elizabeth and Darcy departed for London with Elizabeth’s sisters, Jane and Mary. The plan was to stay with the Gardiners while Elizabeth shopped for her wedding clothes; Jane and Mary were to have one or two new gowns as well.
Mrs Bennet had been insistent that Jane must prepare her own trousseau at once and had suggested she purchase nearly as many gowns as Elizabeth.
When Mr Bennet learnt of this, however, he put a stop to it, granting both Jane and Mary fifteen pounds each to purchase new gowns and other necessities while Elizabeth received one hundred and fifty.
At the mention of that sum, Darcy had restrained a frown, knowing immediately it would not suffice.
Elizabeth would never allow herself to appear poorly turned out, yet he could not bear for her to feel limited or embarrassed when entering society as his wife.
Not only would she need additional clothing for their time spent in London, she would need warmer clothing for the cooler climate in Derbyshire when they eventually made their way to Pemberley.
He resolved to speak with her once they reached London, intending to insist—gently, if she would allow it—that at least part of the expense should fall to him.
He was prepared for her resistance; she was too proud to accept it easily.
Still, if her uncle Gardiner was indeed the sensible man she claimed him to be, then Darcy would appeal to him as well.
Doubtless, the man had the benefit of knowing her longer and had some ideas for how to persuade her to see sense.
The first part of the journey passed easily enough, yet Darcy noted—as he had since their engagement was made public—that Jane Bennet remained quiet and distant.
Elizabeth had told him she had been much the same for the last several days.
He had hoped that once all was settled between himself and Elizabeth, her sister might put her concerns to rest, but Jane’s watchfulness persisted.
After a brief stop at an inn, they boarded the carriage again. At Elizabeth’s request, Darcy cleared his throat and addressed Jane and Mary.
“Miss Bennet, Miss Mary,” he began, his tone steady but measured, “Elizabeth has mentioned that you became acquainted with my former friend, George Wickham, during his time with the militia in Meryton. I thought it best you should know that he has now been transferred to a regiment in the Regulars. When we return to Longbourn in a few days, he will no longer be there.”
“Good riddance,” Mary replied at once, her voice sharp with conviction.
“There was something about him that always unsettled me. I cannot name it precisely, but he seemed… slippery. He paid you much attention, Jane, but then he flirted with every female he saw, regardless of age or rank. I saw him straighten his jacket and shoulders every time he passed a lady and heard him use the same tired lines on each of them whether she was a gentlewoman or a serving girl.”
Darcy saw Jane’s composure falter at her sister’s words.
She turned quickly to the window, arranging her features into their usual serenity, yet a faint flush betrayed her.
Her hands twisted in her lap before she checked the movement at once, as if willing herself into stillness rather than allowing any response to show.
“He is a cad,” Darcy said, matter-of-factly.
“I would not slander a man without good reason, and I have paid off too many women whose reputations he ruined to think well of him. Worse, he makes a practice of preying on others’ weaknesses—he can be charming where it suits him, merciless when it profits him. ”
He caught the briefest flicker of Jane’s eyes towards him—and to him they appeared uneasy, wounded, and perhaps chastened—before she lowered them again.
“My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, assisted me in arranging this commission,” Darcy continued, keeping his tone carefully steady and deliberately controlled.
He disliked speaking of such matters in the presence of his future sisters-in-law and would have preferred not to address it at all, but knew it was necessary.
“It offered Wickham a way to pay off his many debts and, more importantly, removed him from Hertfordshire. I hope this knowledge gives you some peace of mind. It was at Elizabeth’s urging that I share it, for she feared the truth might otherwise come too late.
He has used my family very ill, and I did not wish him nearby when my sister comes to join us for the wedding.
I also hoped that removing him might protect my soon-to-be-sisters as well, along with the residents of Meryton.
He has already run up a significant debt to the merchants there. ”
Elizabeth’s hand came to rest lightly on his arm, her silent support steadying him. Darcy’s eyes, however, lingered on Jane. She gazed out at the fields with her usual serenity, yet the rigid line of her shoulders betrayed her. He was certain her composure was more fragile than it appeared.
Mary gave a brisk nod, apparently satisfied with his response, and asked no more.
Jane was less successful in concealing her thoughts.
A faint flush had touched her cheeks at his blunt words, and while she forced her hands to remain still in her lap, Darcy had seen them twist together momentarily.
It was plain she remained uncertain—unable to argue against such plain speech, yet equally unwilling to question him directly.
Darcy could not determine whether Jane’s hesitation sprang from embarrassment at having been so easily deceived, or from some deeper unease.
Either way, her silence spoke louder than denial.
For Elizabeth’s sake, he resolved he would earn her sister’s good opinion, however long the effort might require.
He knew Elizabeth was troubled by the strain between them and wished, above all things, to remove that source of concern—particularly where her family was involved.
Seeking to ease the tension, he shifted the conversation.
“We will see another friend of ours soon after our arrival,” he said, directing his words to both sisters but watching Jane closely.
“As you know, Bingley has remained in town attending to his sister’s affairs, ensuring her dowry is properly settled and that an establishment is formed for her in the north.
He has promised to call at Darcy House within a few days, and hopes to join us for dinner on more than one evening.
He also plans to attend several of the entertainments for which we are engaged.
I hope you will both join Elizabeth and me in receiving him.
He spoke warmly of renewing the acquaintance with my intended and her sisters, and was much pleased by the news of our engagement. ”
At these words, Jane’s composure faltered again—not from discomfort.
A flicker crossed her countenance, something Darcy dared to hope was affection for his friend.
Whatever emotion stirred within her appeared wrapped in reserve.
No—he reconsidered—it was not reserve, but uncertainty.
Whether she doubted Bingley’s constancy or her own judgement, he could not yet tell.
He watched her lips part as if she meant to speak, only for her to press them closed again, unwilling to reveal her heart.
Darcy did not press her. But he marked the moment carefully, and in that instant resolved that if Bingley’s happiness still lay with Jane Bennet, he would do everything in his power to see it secured.
At one time, he had idly imagined Bingley as Georgiana’s husband; it had never crossed his mind when first they entered Hertfordshire that he and Bingley might one day marry sisters.
The thought, now, pleased him exceedingly.
Jane no longer knew what to believe. Mr Darcy had spoken with such earnest conviction that it seemed impossible to doubt him, and yet her heart resisted fully accepting his words. Why would Lieutenant Wickham have purposely deceived her? What reason could he possibly have had?
When first he confided in her, she thought him kind, even honourable—a man who sought only to spare her pain by sharing his experiences with Mr Darcy and his family.
Still, Mr Darcy’s account had been equally persuasive, leaving her caught between them, unmoored and uncertain.
How could two gentlemen, both so apparently sincere, present such utterly different accounts of the same events?
Still more troubling was Mr Darcy’s casual reference to Mr Bingley.
Jane’s gaze drifted to her sister, and the doubts she had tried to dismiss stirred yet again.
Darcy’s regard for Elizabeth had altered so swiftly—so decidedly—that they were now engaged.
Yet Mr Bingley, who had shown her such steady interest from the first, remained silent about his intentions.
A familiar ache pressed at her heart as the questions that had plagued her rose again in her thoughts.
Try as she might, she could not quiet the fear that she had read too much into every smile and kindness he had shown her.
She knew her mother’s pronouncements about what she deserved had fed that unease, yet she had believed—perhaps foolishly—that she might, for once, be valued for more than her prettiness, and prove herself not only fortunate, but wiser than her sister.
She shook her head, determined to turn her attention back to the conversation in the carriage. While her thoughts had drifted, the subject had shifted to their plans for the capital.