Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
D arcy could bear it no longer. He felt like a soldier standing in the middle of a battlefield being assaulted by enemies on all fronts. It was increasingly impossible to remember that he had allies. In Hertfordshire, it seemed that Bingley was the only one. The Bennet ladies all preferred Wickham to him, and Mr Bennet scowled whenever they met. Darcy knew that any day the gentleman would tell him that he no longer considered Darcy and Elizabeth engaged. Understandably, Bingley was more often at Longbourn or amongst his neighbours, which had recently expanded to include a regiment of the militia, than with him. Why would Bingley wish to remain at Netherfield in the company of Wickham, or even Darcy, who acknowledged that his mood was becoming worse by the day. How could it not, given he was losing the lady who had been his chief comfort?
Yet again, he had witnessed Elizabeth speaking to the scoundrel. They had been at Lucas Lodge the day before, and she had chatted easily and even laughed with Wickham! His beloved Elizabeth, to whom he should be married and would have been had not Wickham ruined everything.
If Darcy did not do something to alleviate the pressure soon, his heart or his mind—or both—would surely shatter. Determined that he could no longer watch the woman he loved pulling away from him, he arranged to meet her along the path between Longbourn and Netherfield early one morning; it was the only way they could speak privately. It would hurt, but the quick pain of ending their connexion would be less wrenching than sitting by as it slowly dissolved. Once the horrendous deed was done, he would take Georgiana and Wickham to Derbyshire, relieving Bingley of the burden of their presence, and allowing Elizabeth to find her happiness elsewhere.
He waited for her in a clearing by the stream where there were boulders upon which one could sit; they would be cold at present, but Darcy doubted he would notice. When Elizabeth saw him, she broke into a wide grin. It was almost enough to make him decide he was wrong, that her love and loyalty still belonged to him. But then he recalled the previous evening.
Elizabeth reached for him, but he stepped away. “Darcy?” she said, her brow creasing in confusion.
There was nothing he could do about the hoarseness of his voice. “I believe it is for the best if we agree to end our engagement. Neither of us would want to bind ourselves to someone who prefers another?—”
“There is another lady you prefer? Who?” she demanded.
He scoffed angrily and, for the first time that morning, met her eye. “Not me. You . Wickham.”
“I do not understand.” Her eyes were bright with tears, and the colour had drained from her visage.
“You like him. I dare not ask how much, but you cannot expect me to be pleased with it. He is convincing Georgiana that I am a terrible brother, that I am robbing her of happiness, being unreasonable to not support their disgusting union, and God knows what else, and now he has damaged your opinion of me. Can you deny it? I cannot imagine how, but he is making you believe his lies. I can see that you think of him as a friend. He certainly thinks of you as such, tells me all the time how wonderful you are, how beautiful and lively.”
He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memory of Wickham’s voice. “It can only mean that your wishes are no longer what they were in August. We can find a way to end our…end it without causing any difficulty.” They were the hardest words he had ever had to say, even worse than explaining to his sister that their father was dead. Briefly, he wondered if he was wrong to speak, if he should have kept his fears to himself. This might be more painful than clinging to her, overlooking her deepening connexion to him, and praying she would recall why she had once loved me above all other men.
Her eyes were over-bright, and her voice trembled. “Perhaps you mean to say that your feelings have altered? That you no longer love me and would prefer to marry a lady your family finds more acceptable? I know how little some of your relations like me, and with Georgiana making such a poor choice, perhaps they hope that if you make a better match?—”
“How often have I seen you talking to Wickham?” he shot back, no longer able to contain the burning sensation in his gut. “When I ask what you and he are saying to each other, you refuse to give me anything other than vague responses. What exactly am I to conclude from that?”
Elizabeth’s hand flew to her mouth, and she gave him a long look while also shaking her head. She continued in a calmer tone. “Darcy, my darling, foolish, hurting man, you cannot honestly believe I would turn against you, especially for someone like him, a person who would use your sister for her money and to revenge himself on you? Do you really think so little of me?”
To his shame, tears filled his eyes, and when he pressed them closed, he felt wetness slide down his cheeks. Elizabeth’s fingers, ever gentle, brushed them away. “Then what do you mean by befriending him? Do you have any notion how much I hate seeing you anywhere near him, let alone smiling at him, laughing with him?”
“I thought you understood,” she said softly. Taking his hand in hers, she tugged him towards the rocks. “Let us sit and speak rationally—but no more talk of ending our engagement. You might as well rip my heart from my body.”
Sniffing and running his free hand over his eyes, Darcy did as she directed; he regarded her closely as she explained, not precisely looking for deceit, but rather unconsciously knowing he required a great deal of reassurance, rightly or wrongly. She had said he was hurting, and she was not mistaken. Only then did it strike him that his anguish over Georgiana’s elopement might have made him vulnerable to Wickham’s villainy. More likely, it was the sense of loss that was responsible for his twisted thinking of late. He had lost first his mother then his father, both of whom he had loved dearly, then Georgiana through her marriage, and fear of losing Elizabeth in addition was, in a way, driving him mad.
“I am trying to make Mr Wickham believe I wish to be on good terms with him, and I have reason to suppose I have succeeded. He is…ridiculous seems far too weak a word, but he has a greater belief in his ability to deceive people, to have them trust him, than anyone I have ever known. What has he said to you of me? ”
He told her of Wickham’s hints and vile claims that Elizabeth had only accepted him because of his wealth, that she preferred him to Darcy, and more. She listened patiently, keeping his hand firmly clasped between hers. When he was done, she sighed.
“It is obvious he wants to add yet more strife to your life. His desire to upset you is almost farcical. He has all the subtlety of a silly schoolboy.” She gave a short laugh. “My love, I am endeavouring to make him become a better man for Georgiana’s sake, and for our own.”
Despising himself for having to ask, he said, “You do not believe his lies about me?”
“No, of course not!” she cried. She sat as close to him as possible, her arm curled about his, and before she continued, she gave him a soothing kiss that did him more good than a month of sleeping properly would. “Despite his high opinion of his ability to deceive people, I can easily see through him. It is evident he thinks that he is convincing me that his portrayal of you is accurate and that I am prepared to admit I was mistaken about your character. I am sure he hopes that I shall decide I do not love you, but that could never happen. I have told him that, and that my greatest desire is to be your wife, but evidently, he refuses to accept it. He must think I am very stupid.”
“And that his charming nature will always get him what he wants,” Darcy added. “Can you ever forgive me for misjudg?—”
“Enough,” she interjected, holding a finger to his lips. “I am so sorry you did not understand. I thought I had mentioned it, or it must be obvious—not to him, because I do not believe he ever considers what other people feel or think. Clearly, there has been some terrible miscommunication between us, and I blame myself for it.”
He shook his head, and they debated the point for a while before he reluctantly agreed to let her retain a small part of the responsibility. After a few kisses that did much to revive him, he requested she explain what she was doing and hoped to accomplish.
“It is impossible that he is capable of reforming and becoming a decent man.”
“I see the situation differently from you,” she said. “I can because I do not have the same history. What I see is that they are married. We could wish it were not so—I certainly do, I promise you—but it is too late for that. The best hope for the future is to convince him to become the man you thought he would be when you were boys. Everything I have learnt of him?—”
“How could you know anything about him, apart from what I told you?” Darcy asked. “If it is from him, he is hardly reliable.”
Elizabeth shook his head. “I would not trust him to tell me the time. I have been writing to your cousin Rebecca. She has consulted her parents, likely even Lord Bramwell and, in this way, has been able to tell me more about Wickham’s childhood, what he was like when he was still good. She has been generous with the information she is sending me, chiefly about Mr Wickham’s family, his connexion to your father, and amusing vignettes.”
“I hate to remember any of it,” he muttered. It made him melancholic to recall the pleasant times he and Wickham had shared as children. In his list of losses, he had forgotten to include his once-friend .
Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “I have used it to remind him of when he was happy as a boy. I apologise if this distresses you, but I have even spoken of how much your father liked him and asked if he thinks that your father would be pleased to know that he has married Georgiana, that she would have him to ensure her life was the best it possibly could be, et cetera. Really, you would think he would see through my exaggerations, but so far, he has not.”
“It is because he is so convinced of his superior abilities.”
She nodded and continued. “Yesterday, when you saw us together, I told him I had just recalled hearing an amusing story involving the two of you and Colonel Fitzwilliam when I met your family in August. In truth, it was something Rebecca wrote to me. That is why I laughed. It certainly was not anything he said. Every exchange I have with him is with the same aim in mind—to get him to want to return to those happier, more carefree days, ones in which you and he were friends, and he was intent on living a respectable life. He will never be that person again, but I believe he might give up his intention to be so antagonistic towards you.”
“I, my uncle, Fitzwilliam, Bramwell, all of us, I suppose, hope he will eventually tire of whatever game he is playing and of always having to act as a devoted husband, and he will go away—with a substantial amount of money.”
“I hope that happens, but it might not, or it may be a long time until it does. I am not content to see your connexion to Georgiana suffer, perhaps permanently, if Mr Wickham decides to be stubborn. Or he becomes cruel towards her to spite you and make you agree to give him far more than he deserves.”
“He deserves nothing,” Darcy hissed.
“We agree on that,” Elizabeth said, still managing to remain calm. “At present, we must live with him. I want this situation, for lack of a better word, improved so that we might all find a modicum of peace now. Not in the future if—when—he abandons her, but now . To do that, I must believe he has a better nature inside of him. We must coax that aspect of his character to life—for Georgiana’s sake and our own.”
I am a fool. I could not have been more mistaken, and more insulting to Elizabeth, had I set out to make her hate me.
Fortunately for him, his darling girl was forgiving—more than that, she had apologised for not ensuring he understood what she was about with Wickham. She knew him better than anyone ever had, even his dearest friends, such as Bingley and Fitzwilliam. Only his Elizabeth could comprehend how easy it was for him to be affected by Wickham, given their tangled history, and she had helped him to see it too, which he believed would make it more difficult for Wickham to further injure him. Nothing he said would ever make him doubt Elizabeth again, and, with luck, Wickham would be unable to so easily anger him. Though that might be too much to ask.
Returning to Netherfield after speaking to her, he was struck by a need to be away from the entire oppressive disaster. A few days where he could be alone and come to terms with how he had almost destroyed his relationship with Elizabeth—which seemed like the only good thing in his life at the moment—would greatly benefit him.
It was difficult to admit that he preferred not to be near his sister, but so it was; her disapproving, disappointed looks cut through him like a sharp blade. Watching her lovingly gaze at the most worthless man Darcy had ever known, the way she listened attentively to his words, believing each without question, was too much to bear when he felt drained of strength. But he would not leave Bingley to bear their company without him.
He should not have been surprised to discover that his friend realised something new had occurred. They had breakfast together, along with Georgiana and Wickham, which meant there was little conversation. Once they finished eating, Bingley suggested he and Darcy go to the library. There, they sat in leather armchairs across from each other and enjoyed cups of coffee. Darcy needed it; it helped revive him after yet another sleepless night.
Bingley said, “I am worried for you, Darcy. I know how disagreeable these last weeks have been, but lately, it has got worse. You will understand that I am only concerned for your health when I say that I notice you have lost weight, and I do not believe you are sleeping or eating properly. Would it help to talk about it? I hope you know that I am always willing to listen and do what I can.”
Darcy chuckled sadly and rubbed his forehead. “If I did not, I would be a simpleton. I shall never be able to thank you for all you have done, even just for allowing them to remain here. I know you do not find Wickham’s company any more agreeable than I do.”
“I do not, but you owe me no thanks. You would do the same for me. But has something else occurred? Is there anything I might do to make this easier for you?”
Darcy took a moment to decide if he ought to burden Bingley with his confidences—and if he wished to embarrass himself by admitting the ugly thoughts he had allowed to intrude. In the end, he did, although he did not dwell on the details .
Bingley gave a low whistle. “I recall being told that Miss Elizabeth was the cleverest of her sisters—not that any of them could be called stupid—and this must be proof. She is not afraid to act where she sees the need. Tell me what I can do to help with her scheme, and I shall. Has she told Miss Bennet?”
“I do not know. Frankly, I am not certain what Elizabeth and I shall do, or rather, what part I shall play. There was no time to discuss it this morning.” He sighed heavily. “And I am not convinced I can think about it now. Earlier, I was considering how wonderful it would be to forget the entire distressing business for a few days.”
“Perhaps then you could sleep and regain your vigour?” Bingley said. When Darcy nodded, he continued. “You ought to do it. Go to town for a day, a week, whatever it takes. Well, not longer than a week, if you please.” He laughed awkwardly.
“I cannot leave you here alone with my sister and Wickham. It is too much?—”
“It was my suggestion. I hardly see them. You may have noticed that I prefer the company at Longbourn.”
He said it in such an amused, almost self-deprecating fashion, that Darcy chuckled.
“Wickham does not affect me as he does you,” Bingley said. “I do not like the man. I hate him for what he is doing to you and your sister. But I am…removed from it, which makes a difference. It should be easy enough to make an excuse to spend a sojourn in London.”
Slowly, Darcy nodded. “I could claim a need to see my solicitor. I will be getting married soon. Neither Elizabeth nor I intend to wait much longer. We spoke of that this morning too—how we might convince Mr Bennet to give his permission to set the wedding date. ”
“And with a wedding comes a marriage contract and changes to your will. There you go, Darcy. You have your excuse. Go. Today, if you like. You have plenty of daylight left.”
Within a few minutes, it was decided, and Darcy had ordered his valet to make preparations for their departure. He wrote Elizabeth a note explaining his absence, which Bingley vowed to deliver as soon as possible. Darcy also sent a note to Georgiana, who was spending more and more time in her apartment or taking slow strolls through the grounds with Wickham. It would be impossible to speak to her alone, and he did not want to see Wickham again, if he could avoid it.
Before leaving, he said to Bingley, “Elizabeth tells me she and Jane have often dreamt of sharing a wedding day. Think about it and stop delaying!”
His friend grinned. “I promise I shall.”