Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
T hat evening, Elizabeth followed her father to his book-room after dinner. He regarded her across the desk, his bushy eyebrows raised, silently inviting her to speak.
“Papa, I would like to begin preparing for my wedding.”
“Your wedding? I was unaware such a thing existed.”
She wanted to roll her eyes, if not throw the nearest book at him, but she settled for giving him a look meant to say she did not find his joke amusing. It would do Darcy good to have their nuptials to anticipate. As it was, she found it increasingly difficult to convince him to set aside his anxieties; she was searching for more and more easy topics to talk to him about. There would be other benefits, she believed, notably Mr Bingley proposing, and the excitement of an upcoming celebration might encourage Georgiana to forget her growing displeasure with Darcy.
“We have waited long enough,” she asserted.
“Have we? I suppose ‘we’ means you and Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth nodded, and he continued. “I find I am not concerned with his opinion. It is my duty to look after your well-being. You might recall I was reluctant to give my permission when he proposed in August. I only did because you agreed to a long engagement.”
“It has been almost three months!” She would have gone on, but he shook his head in a gesture she knew indicated he required her to be silent and listen.
“It might have been enough, had other events not taken place. Do not argue with me, Lizzy. I have been very close to demanding an end to this engagement, since you refuse to agree to do it. Every time I am forced to see Mr Wickham—as slippery a fellow as I have ever encountered—I wish we had never met Mr Darcy or that you and he had not become enamoured of each other. No matter how they try to cover it up, we all know that his sister eloped. It is bound to come out sooner or later, and I do not want you caught up in that family’s scandal. Besides, what kind of family would you be joining, one in which a fifteen-year-old girl was left exposed to a man like that?”
“You know it is not that simple!” Elizabeth interjected, frustrated to be having the same conversation with him yet again. I had hoped to find him reasonable, though I should not have expected it. If I am stubborn, it is a trait I inherited from him! “Mr Darcy ensured Georgiana had a companion. He is hardly to blame that the woman was deceitful. We must blame another of his aunts, the one with whom Georgiana was staying when Mr Wickham convinced her to run off with him.”
“None of that makes a material difference.” When she opened her mouth to retort further, he held up a quelling hand. “You have a choice. You can wait patiently until I agree to set a wedding date—I will not be importuned further on the subject—or I shall speak to Mr Darcy and end the engagement.”
“If you do, I shall wait until I am one-and-twenty and marry him then. If it comes to that, if you withdraw your permission, you can be sure I shall never forgive you.” It was months before her birthday, but once the day arrived, she would leave Longbourn; she might not speak to her father again willingly, but she would marry Darcy.
Knowing it was useless to continue the conversation, she strode out of the room, immediately seeking the solitude of her bedchamber. There, she would decide what more she could do to ensure a quick, successful conclusion to her efforts regarding Mr Wickham. Once there was any indication that he wanted to reform, the two men might reconcile.
They will not be friends, but I do not require it. I only need for Mr Wickham to stop picking at Darcy, trying to make him argue, and convincing Georgiana to hate her family. They need to treat each other politely, demonstrate some respect. It is not too much to hope for!
The weather finally cleared, and on a pleasant day—for early November—Darcy walked from Longbourn into Meryton with Elizabeth, Bingley, Jane, and the two youngest Bennet daughters. His sister and Wickham were, unfortunately, there as well. Wickham seldom allowed him to spend time with her alone. It seemed that whenever he approached Georgiana to speak to her when she happened to be on her own in the drawing room at Netherfield, Wickham would be there within a few minutes. Darcy did not know how Wickham always learnt of it—likely paying the servants to inform him—and he was never away from the house without ensuring Georgiana was either with him or, more commonly, in her apartment, refusing to permit Darcy to enter.
Jane and Bingley were slowly strolling behind the rest of them, with Elizabeth and he a little ahead of them. That meant he had a good view of the three youngest ladies with Wickham. Georgiana’s arm was wrapped around his, while Catherine and Lydia appeared to be jostling to be closest to him on the other side, the girls pushing each other out of the way as they attempted to get his attention. Upon occasion, Darcy heard one of the many questions they asked—what was his favourite sweet, would he ask them to dance at the next assembly, and similar nonsense. Wickham grinned, clearly relishing every bit of it. He looked over his shoulder at Darcy and smirked several times, especially after making the young ladies giggle with some remark Darcy did not hear.
“How the devil does he deceive so many people?” Darcy said through clenched teeth. He had not meant to speak aloud. It embarrassed him to realise he had when Elizabeth spoke; indeed, he had almost forgotten she was beside him.
“Never mind him, or that Kitty and Lydia find him charming. They are young and, I am afraid, rather sillier than they should be. They only see that he is handsome, and he has a glib tongue. One day, they will…”
Although aware that she had continued talking, he had ceased to take in her words after she commented on Wickham’s good looks. She— his Elizabeth —found his worst enemy handsome. Did she envy her sisters, wish she was walking with him and Georgiana instead of the man she had promised to marry? Wickham had always been far easier with others than Darcy was, and it meant he could make friends while Darcy had struggled to, even at school and university. In time, Darcy had always established his own friendships, but it did not remove the sting of knowing Wickham was preferred, especially as the years passed and Darcy came to understand how little he was worthy of the good opinions so often accorded him. At present, his sister liked Wickham more, as did Elizabeth’s—two of them, at least—and he would not be surprised to discover that Mrs Bennet did as well.
Did Elizabeth? Did she wish Darcy was more like him, if not in looks then in disposition?
“Darcy?”
Startled, he looked into her upturned face. He saw concern in her wonderful eyes, and his heart ached. She was so beautiful he could hardly bear it. Today, the autumnal chill added colour to her cheeks, the deep green of her bonnet setting off her fair skin and luxuriant brown hair perfectly, and he was close to crying with love for her. The thought of ever losing her was overpowering; he genuinely believed he would die if he did. What would he have to continue living for, if Wickham stole both Elizabeth and his sister from him?
You are being a jealous fool . Just because she has spoken to him upon occasion, it does not mean she favours him. Wickham’s hints that she regrets our engagement are ridiculous, intended to make me doubt myself, make me miserable. Every day, Wickham aimed these barbs at him—directly, but also indirectly, in words said to Georgiana but clearly meant for his ears.
“I am afraid my thoughts were elsewhere,” he said, struggling to banish his dark reflections.
She smiled; while it appeared cheerful on the surface, he was sure he detected hesitancy beneath. “I asked about the trees at Pemberley. Are there many that change colours in the autumn? Ideally into colours other than brown, as the oaks do.”
“Some.” More was required, he knew, but he could think of nothing to say.
After watching him for a long moment, occasionally glancing forwards—at the road to avoid tripping or at Wickham; he preferred not to know which—she sighed and said, “I always wished we had more.”
You are dissatisfied with the trees, just as you are with me, now that you have met him? Darcy hated himself for thinking it, but it was almost as if a little devil was sitting on his shoulder, whispering evil things into his ear. At least he had managed not to ask the question aloud.
Elizabeth tightened her hold on his arm and, leaning into him, said, “But as long as I have you, how could I possibly be unhappy with anything? Our surroundings do not matter to me nearly as much as having you next to me as we observe it.”
For the present, it was enough to ease the tightness in his chest, and he spent the remainder of the walk telling her of the autumns he had experienced in different parts of the country.
Later the same day, when they were at Longbourn, Darcy saw Elizabeth talking to Wickham yet again. His heart thudded in his chest, and he felt nauseous. Nothing he could do dampened the growing unease that seemed to affect him from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes.
When she took a seat next to him, Darcy demanded, “What did you say to him? What did he say to you?” Fortunately, he had kept his voice low, though it had been by instinct alone.
Elizabeth shrugged, evidently not noticing his mood—how, he did not know, because he believed it must be radiating from him like the brightest sunlight after days of dark clouds.
“Nothing in particular,” she said. “Forget about him. Let us speak of you and me or anything that will distract us for a while. We can find a quiet corner and talk about books or the theatre or”—she laughed—“anything! Ideally something other than Hertfordshire and the people we see every day. As much as I love them, I require a more diverting subject.”
She mentioned several topics, none of which he was capable of having a conversation about at the moment. After attempting to coax him into discussing diversions they might enjoy together in London or Derbyshire with little success, she raised the issue of his houses and servants, saying, “I know you have told me of them before, but I long to hear it again—to hear you speak of it. When we go to Pemberley, I want to feel as though I already know it intimately. The same is true of your townhouse.”
In his ear, he heard her beloved voice mingled with Wickham’s sarcastic one, his hints that Elizabeth was chiefly interested in Darcy’s wealth and position in life, that she would decide a union with him was not worth the cost she would pay, which was having to live with him.
If only she did not talk to him , did not look as though she liked him. How could she? She ought to hate him for what he did to Georgiana, and because of what I shared about his treatment of me. He robbed me of my sister and now he is going to rob me of Elizabeth. The worst thing was, he had no notion what to do about it.
Elizabeth arranged to visit with Georgiana one morning towards the middle of November. They had spent time together since her return to the neighbourhood the previous month, but it was usually in company with others.
If I can encourage her confidences, ensure that she trusts me, I might be able to convince her that Darcy and her relations love her, as do I, and we are concerned for her well-being. Perhaps, if I am exceedingly fortunate, I shall help her to see Mr Wickham’s sly attempts to make her distrust her family for what they are, to say nothing of how he tricked her into eloping.
Accordingly, she walked to Netherfield. The day was cool, and she kept a brisk pace. Her breath was visible in the air, and the wind blew her skirts wildly. Once ensconced in an ornate wing chair near the fireplace in a smallish parlour, a cup of hot tea in her hands, she smiled at the younger woman.
“I am glad we have an opportunity to visit. I was thinking last night that we seldom have these last weeks, and on those occasions we have been alone, we were interrupted after only a few minutes.”
As often happened, Georgiana nibbled her lower lip before responding. “I supposed you did not want to. My brother is so unhappy with me, and since you are engaged to him”—there was an emphasis on these words that Elizabeth did not understand—“naturally, you would take his part.”
“I am not sure I understand what you mean. In my opinion, ladies are not obliged to think exactly what the men in their lives do.” Please interpret that to mean you do not have to believe what Mr Wickham tells you, and you should not !
Her companion shrugged. “My brother must have tried to convince you to hate Wickham. It is because of his jealousy, Wickham says, which is an ugly emotion. I suppose you have been friendly with my husband. I have seen you speaking to him more than once.”
If Georgiana kept saying ‘I suppose’, Elizabeth might scream. It was almost as annoying as when she began every other sentence with ‘Wickham says’. Then again, Elizabeth decided, it was far less vexing; at least it showed that she was thinking for herself, if only slightly. The statement about Darcy’s supposed jealousy was likely taught to her by Wickham, however. Not knowing what to say to Georgiana’s last statement, Elizabeth took a sip of tea.
“Everyone finds him charming,” Georgiana said. “And he is very handsome. He makes friends so easily, whereas I am awkward and never know what to say. I am not surprised your sisters like him as well as they do. Or you. Of course, they are not engaged.”
Elizabeth almost laughed, which would have caused her to spit out the tea in her mouth. Did Georgiana resent her so-called friendship with Mr Wickham? Impossible! She had not spoken to him that much and, although she did her best to be polite to him, it must be obvious to anyone who could see that her manner was no more than politeness. One would need quite an active imagination to believe Elizabeth felt any degree of affection for the man. But then, Georgiana did not know her well, and she lacked experience in social situations which might have helped her to recognise the difference between flirting and courtesy.
“As I once said to Mr Wickham, we are connected after a fashion. We ought to be on easy terms. ”
“You are only connected because of my brother, but are you still going to be married?”
Elizabeth nearly gasped. “Of course we are!”
Once again, Georgiana nibbled her lip briefly. Her eyes, which had been lowered, lifted, and she stared, unblinking at Elizabeth. “Neither you nor he speak of it, and you have not made any arrangements. I heard your mother complaining about it the other day. Wickham says he rarely sees you standing with my brother at parties. He says it is very odd, and you might have accepted him only because?—”
“I accepted Darcy’s proposal because I love him. That is the only reason. As for our wedding preparations, well, your happy news”—she tasted bile saying the words—“made us set aside that discussion for a short while. We shall pick it up again very soon.”
Georgiana sighed. “I am glad. I-I have been a little worried. You have not even set a date, and since you and Wickham have become such good friends, I thought perhaps you…”
Elizabeth was horrified by what the young lady was thinking. With how little Georgiana went out, she had not had many opportunities to see Elizabeth with either Darcy or Mr Wickham. Someone must be whispering these hateful insinuations to her, and it could only be the vile man she had married. It was yet another reason for Elizabeth to despise him.
“He is your husband, and thus your brother’s brother, and my own, once Darcy and I marry. Naturally, I wish to know him better, as I told you earlier. I assure you, it goes no further than that.”
Leaning forwards in her chair, her voice gaining urgency, Georgiana said, “Can you not convince my brother to be kinder to him? I suppose I understand that our marriage was a shock, but that ought to be over by now. Yet, he is still so displeased—all my family is. But my brother is here, and he must see how happy I am and how well Wickham treats me. It is all so confusing. And Wickham says my brother and cousin Fitzwilliam are being horrible and stubborn about my fortune.”
Before she could go on, possibly telling Elizabeth even more of what Mr Wickham said, Elizabeth interjected. “It has not been that long since we all learnt of your elopement. I do not know if you realise how frantic Darcy was when he discovered you were not at Rosings Park, as he had expected. Eloping is a very serious business. It could cause a terrible scandal that would embroil your entire family—including me. It will take more time than has elapsed for people to cease being…uncomfortable about it.”
“But Wickham said it would be easier for everyone?—”
“He was mistaken,” Elizabeth gently insisted. “I recall you explaining to me, or perhaps it was Darcy who told me. I understand you believed it would please him because it would be less troublesome.” She reached across the distance between them to lay a hand on Georgiana’s. “But did you not consider the need for a proper settlement? You are more than five years from your majority. Did you not think you should obtain permission from your guardians, even if you anticipated them agreeing?”
Georgiana pulled her hand away, stood, and went to the window. She did not answer the questions, and a moment later suggested they go to the music room.