Chapter 20
The next morning was drizzly, and Darcy arrived at Longbourn in a carriage. Elizabeth greeted him happily but cocked her head. “No Georgiana today?”
“No. She and Mrs Annesley are putting in a few days of lessons before our relations arrive.”
“Good for her,” Elizabeth said. “I admire anyone who attends to work and lessons as well as art and sport.”
“So…today it is just me.”
“Mmm, good for me!” She laughed but almost immediately sobered.
“Actually, it is quite good for me, because I have something delicate to ask of you. But with the rain…we cannot walk….”
Mrs Bennet bustled into the parlour, commented on missing Georgiana that morning, and then asked, “Mr Darcy, I assume you came by carriage, given the weather?”
“I did. Can I be of service to you?”
“I hope so. I was hoping that Lizzy could take one of her gowns back to Mrs Taylor for another adjustment, and she could then pick up the three that Mrs Taylor has completed. Do you suppose that you could take her to Meryton?”
“Certainly. Do you have an appointment, madam? Or is it a matter of any time today?”
“No appointment. The shop will be open soon; I hope you can go early, and maybe she will have the time to sew the adjustment while you wait. If…if that is to your liking, sir.”
Darcy turned to Elizabeth, saw her satisfied nod, and turned back to say, “That will do very well.”
In just a few minutes, Elizabeth had run up to fetch the dresses that needed work, plus the book in which Mary and she had hidden the notes and letters. She put on her warm outer layers and picked up an umbrella, which she used to protect the book and dresses.
As the carriage moved towards the dressmaker’s shop, Elizabeth explained the discovery she and Mary had made.
In a low voice, she said, “Once again, I am alarmed how little I knew, and still know, of my elder sister, and once again I am wondering if she needs rescuing. But Mary and I decided that we did not wish to read the letters and notes, because we will always have to interact with Jane, our whole lives. You will have to as well, but your relationship with Jane is more removed, so you will be expected to talk less, in person, and you will never be expected to correspond with her. Mary and I hate to further erode our respect and affections for Jane, whereas yours were never high. Finally, we are loath to destroy the letters or notes, sight unseen, because there might be an important reason to keep them or even take some sort of action because of what is revealed. For that reason, we hope you can read them and determine what, if anything, needs to be done. Giving the letters to Jane, or keeping them ourselves, is dangerous; the chance of discovery and scandal still exists.”
Darcy looked very solemn, but he said, “And you know that I can trust my people to keep them safe from discovery?”
“Exactly.”
“Oh, Elizabeth, I hate to read someone’s mail—it is abhorrent….”
Elizabeth realised that he would turn down her request. It made sense. Of course, it was against honour to read others’ messages. But—not if there is danger, even to reputations. She wished to make her argument, but he went on: “…but of course I will do so, if you think it best.”
They had arrived at the dressmaker’s shop, and Darcy said, “Get fitted, pick up the finished pieces, and then come back to me. I will read all of this—as much as I can—Bingley’s handwriting is atrocious!—and I will confer with you when you return.”
Elizabeth was pleased with herself that she had guessed correctly that some of the letters were Mr Bingley’s.
And she was so grateful to her betrothed.
She needed to tell him of her appreciation; between each word, Elizabeth gave Darcy a tiny kiss on his cheeks, brow, even his nose: “Thank. You. So. Much. You. Are. The Best. Man. I Know.”
She had feelings of eagerness and dread, mixed together, when she returned to the carriage half an hour later.
“Mrs Taylor says that the dress I brought will be ready in another half hour. But…I hate to speak about private things sitting on the street in Meryton. I am convinced that we could be overheard.”
Darcy consulted his watch and then handed her into the carriage. After speaking briefly to the driver, he climbed in and told her, “We will move a short distance so that there will be no interruptions nor eavesdropping.”
When the carriage reached a wide-open spot on the road to Hertford, it stopped. Elizabeth felt the carriage jostle slightly as the driver and footman climbed off and moved away from the carriage. They held furled umbrellas; it was apparently not drizzling at the moment.
Darcy lowered both shades and said, “I have read the notes and letters. I know for certain that most of the letters were written by Bingley and all of the notes by Wickham. I know their hands well. I assume that the remaining letter was written by Goulding. I have never seen anything written by him, but he used initials, and events paint him as the most likely to have penned that letter regardless of the initials.”
Elizabeth nodded. “We assumed the same and are glad for your certainty regarding Mr Bingley and Mr Wickham.”
“As to what should be done with the letters and notes, I feel honour bound not to destroy another’s messages, I agree that handing them to her, even in secret, would be very awkward for all and quite dangerous for her, because they could be found.
I am confident that the right thing to do is to wrap them into one packet and to store them in a fireproof box at either my bank or my attorney’s office. ”
“Why do you suppose Jane did not burn them in the fireplace, before we left to go to the wedding? Certainly she would know that I would find them, or someone would.”
“My theory is that she held onto the letters as leverage, and she could not be certain that the wedding would occur as planned. I believe that she knew that they would be discovered and actually hoped that you would turn them over to me for the kind of safekeeping she would be unable to arrange.”
“So she meant for us to find them.”
“It is the only thing that makes sense to me. And I believe that she knew my character. As much as she wished not to like me, I sensed that night….”
“I know which night you refer to, Fitzwilliam. And I agree that your unflagging nobility forced her to respect you.”
“Nobility?” he scoffed. “I just read another’s letters.”
“The thing is…aside from the fact that I am a terrible influence who convinces you to do things you find abhorrent…I feel like my brain just does all of this work without my permission, and I invent all these theories, and I just….”
“You cannot shut your thought-production off?” he suggested.
“Exactly.”
“So, other than determining that the letters and notes should be kept safely locked away, what do you wish me to tell you? Nothing? Everything?”
“I was hoping to maintain as much respect for Jane as I could—at this point, as I am sure you can tell, it is not much—but since I stated that goal, my brain has been attempting to tick-tick-tick through all the possibilities of why she would receive written messages from three men, against the rules of propriety, and why she would keep the messages, and the only thing I could come up with was that she may have lain with three different men. And, having reaped the natural consequence of her behaviour, she wished to marry in order to avoid scandal, and so she kept the letters and notes.”
Darcy held both of her hands within his, pressing them to his chest in an attempt to comfort.
Elizabeth continued, “And I cannot…I do not…wish to think so poorly of Jane, but….”
Darcy whispered, “Can I share with you my theory? It is not so very different from yours, but I believe you will feel better about your sister.”
“Please do.”
“I believe that the night when she hoped to gain the truth from Wickham, but she ended up hiding in a muddy field, I believe that he forced himself on her.
I have never heard any woman accuse him of violence or force—I have only ever heard of charm and seduction, although they often ended in ruin—but there is a tone in his notes that could be explained if he had been heavily drinking and later regretted his actions.
I surmise that she may have decided to cut him forevermore, but then her courses…
did not arrive on time. I believe that her fear caused her to act in a way she would never, otherwise, have acted.
It seemed likely, from what I read, that she seduced William Goulding in an attempt to gain a proposal, and when she became engaged, one or two days later, she felt safe again.
But I speculate that his parents insisted on a long engagement, which of course would not suit, and so she worried that the marriage would not occur.
“I come now to the night of the ball. There was talk of your elder sister arguing with Bingley. I was very busy watching over you, as you may recall, so I did not worry much about the rumours; I certainly did not see them nor attempt to find them. But Bingley’s first letter referenced the night of the ball, so I assume that she performed one more seduction in an attempt to achieve safety with another if Goulding’s parents made that union impossible. ”
Elizabeth felt as if a wall of surmise had been built before her eyes, brick by brick.
Darcy’s best guess at what had happened was less appalling in some ways and more appalling in others.
But it did make her feel even more anger against Mr Wickham and at least a bit more sympathy for Mr Bingley, Mr Goulding, and Jane.
Poor Jane! If Darcy’s theory was true, how frightened she must have been. How—horrified at the actions of someone she had admired! How desperate she must have felt after Mr Bingley learnt of her nighttime conference with Mr Wickham, and he bowed out of the picture.
She felt sorry for the two men who had allowed themselves to be seduced, although she had to admit that Mr Bingley would likely recover well enough. Mr Goulding would likely unknowingly raise and name as heir a child that was not his—and that quite upset her.
But still…she did feel better. To a small degree, at least.
She opened her eyes and saw Darcy’s intense eyes. He looked sympathetic and hopeful at the same time; he looked the most protective, the most tender he had ever been.
“Thank you. I hate that theory, but I do feel that it makes everyone more comprehensible and less despicable. Except for Mr Wickham, of course—he is irredeemable.”
He nodded. After consulting his watch, he said, “We should return.” He reached to open the carriage door.
But Elizabeth put her hand out, staying the motion. She asked, “Do you think that Mr Bingley is…well? I very much hope he is not feeling terribly guilty or angry.”
“I think that he is as well as can be expected, and that he will recover entirely, and quite quickly. I think it is a good thing that their relationship did not result in marriage. Not because I do not think that your sister is good enough for him—you will recall that I once speculated that he was not yet good enough for her! But he is a genuinely happy and friendly man, and I believe he would do better with someone who can be genuine with him, even if that genuine person is someone more like me.” He chuckled a little.
“Someone very severe, very dour, and quite, quite arrogant?”
“Oh, dear, is that how you describe your betrothed?” His wide smile indicated that he was teasing.
“No, it is not. But you have to admit that there are moments when your face indicates that you are severe, dour, and arrogant. I have to say, even when you attempt to portray an unpleasantness that is the opposite of your true self, I always saw the truth in your eyes.”
“I dearly love you. But we should return.” After gaining her approval, Darcy signalled to his driver and footman, and they returned to Meryton to pick up the last dress and then start back towards Longbourn.
“Go slowly, if you please,” Darcy instructed the driver for this last leg of their errand. And he proceeded to cheer up both him and Elizabeth with many agreeable proofs that he was not, in fact, dour.