Chapter 11
TRUE CONFESSIONS OF THE MOST INCREDIBLE KIND
There was one thing in particular Darcy meant to accomplish before his wedding: the removal from the area of the cockroach on the floor of humanity that was George Wickham.
To that end, he had sent poor Havers back to London once again on Monday afternoon for certain documents kept at Darcy’s Mayfair home.
Upon his return Tuesday morning, Darcy called upon Colonel Forster, Wickham’s commanding officer.
“I was surprised to see a new officer yesterday,” Darcy began, after greetings were exchanged and they were seated in Forster’s comfortable quarters. “A man by the name of George Wickham.”
The colonel was all smiles; yes, they were fortunate such a gentleman of great friendliness and civility had joined their corps. He was sure to be a ‘pleasing addition’.
“As to that,” Darcy replied, “I am not certain. I am in possession of several facts that cause me to wonder if Meryton is not far too small a town to handle such a profligate. Ordinarily, I would leave the army to deal with its personnel, but in this case, since I have so many friends here, I find I cannot simply stand by and say nothing.”
Forster gawped. “Truly? Why, I find it hard to believe! He seems a perfect gentleman!”
From an inner coat pocket, Darcy withdrew a folded stack of papers, and passed them over to the colonel. Frowning, Forster read the first, then the second, then thumbed through the stack. “Why, there must be a thousand pounds here in notes!” he cried.
“Closer to two, actually. These are the notes of hand Wickham left with various merchants and individuals in Lambton, the town nearest my country estate. He does not give them, ever, with any intention to pay, and I can prove him a cheat and a fraudster. I own these, and shall not hesitate to call them in directly and return with the magistrate unless he is gone by morning. I care not in the slightest how it happens, as long his departure is immediate.”
Darcy judged Forster as a man who did not like trouble; he had already boasted of a long and spotless career—this certainly was not his first command.
“I know how to force the resignation from an officer whose conduct is unbecoming, especially when his creditors have come calling. And such a creditor!” Forster shook his head in an obvious bemused incredulity, handing back the notes.
“I will see to it, sir. He shall not again trouble either you or the residents of this neighbourhood.”
“That is all I ask. Thank you.”
Darcy returned to Netherfield, and sitting in Bingley’s pathetic library with a book he was far too restless to read, wondered if it was too early to present himself at Longbourn.
The day before, seeing Elizabeth’s obvious, if quiet acceptance of his presence and her fate, Mr Bennet had restrained his own hostility.
Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia were very silly and spent their time either giggling or bickering, with their mother joining in as often as not, but her table was a fine one.
Miss Mary had played nicely for the company after dinner, and he had to acknowledge that it had been very pleasant indeed when he and Elizabeth had been left mostly to themselves afterwards.
Miss Bennet had ostensibly acted as their chaperon, but she contrived to be as unobtrusive as was possible, her attention solely upon her letter writing, and only joining in the conversation when Elizabeth urged her.
He had been invited by Mrs Bennet to return for dinner again tonight, and to bring Bingley with him—an invitation which his friend had happily accepted.
A sudden vision came to his mind, of many future evenings with Elizabeth, Miss Bennet, and Bingley, the four of them in just such agreeable exchanges as he had enjoyed the night before.
Admittedly, he had not been fond of the idea of Bingley paired with Miss Bennet.
It was impossible to discern whether she held any genuine affection for his friend, or would be just as accepting of any decent, eligible male.
Nevertheless, she was mannerly and likeable and he had his own romance to repair—Bingley could hardly do worse in that realm.
I, obviously, am the last man in the world to offer advice on marriage, he could humbly admit.
He had just about decided to seek out Bingley to see if he wished to leave for Longbourn, when the library door opened to admit Miss Whitby, Miss Bingley’s woman.
He stood, assuming she was there to search for a book for herself or her mistress, so was surprised when she stopped before him, addressing him with a curtsey and a request for a moment of his time.
“Of course,” he agreed, waving her into the chair opposite. Once she was perched before him, he could see that her clasped hands were white-knuckled, and although her expression was outwardly calm, she radiated tension.
“I have come to apologise,” she said. “I have been beside myself, trying to decide what is best. My position dictates a certain and exacting discretion, and yet, I was raised a God-fearing woman, and my conscience has always been my guide and one I could never betray. I do not know, however, if this wrong can be righted. I must assure you that I am prepared to accept whatever reprimand or consequence you choose to mete out, even the likelihood that my confession will result in my dismissal with my reputation in tatters.”
Darcy felt his brows raise in wonder. Miss Whitby had always been a quiet, tasteful personage, with perfect manner and graciousness.
In fact, he often thought her more refined than Miss Bingley.
What could she have done? And why had she come to him?
“Perhaps you would like to explain this wrong in more detail,” he said gravely.
“Oh, yes, of course. Excuse me, I am not usually subject to such nerves.” She took a deep breath.
“Early last week, I discovered that Miss Bingley had hidden in her wardrobe a bottle of laudanum, one left by Mr Jones for Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had refused its further use, saying it was of an unusual strength and far too overpowering for her sister, even that it caused delirium. I could not think why Miss Bingley would want it, but of course, her medicinal decisions are her own.” She wrung her hands in a twisting motion.
“Then on Friday, I found that my mistress had decided to concoct her own liqueurs. This is a pastime quite foreign to her interests, and for some reason, my curiosity was roused. I could not help wondering what mischief she might be up to. I searched the stillroom, and found the bottle of laudanum in a cupboard, nearly empty. It is what I firmly believe she was doing in that stillroom on Friday, Mr Darcy. Concocting a potion of port and laudanum and I am unsure what other ingredients.”
“Wait a moment,” Darcy interjected, horror filling him. “Are you saying that the cordials Miss Bingley served us Friday evening were laced with laudanum?”
Miss Whitby’s shoulders straightened. “Yes, I fear so. I could hardly believe it. I told myself that it could not be. I suspected she had made something with the drug, but I doubted and dithered about what she meant to do with it. In retrospect, I ought to have done more, sooner. I grieve now my failure to do so.”
Darcy found himself speechless. Poisoned, practically, by Miss Bingley! But the woman had more to say.
“Something woke me in the night, and I rose and looked in on my mistress. Mr Darcy, you were in her bed! I knew at once that you had not joined her there of your own will. It was desperately difficult to wake you without waking Miss Bingley—I feared if she woke too, she would begin screaming and accusing you. But somehow, I got you out of her bed and out the door. I neglected, however, to ensure you made it safely back to your own chamber. I foolishly thought the business over and done with, Miss Bingley’s plot a failure with no one harmed.
I was relieved, and slept the sleep of the just, while your happiness and Miss Elizabeth’s was ruined. ”
A tear escaped her grey eyes, and then another.
She fished about in her apron pocket for a handkerchief.
Numb with bewilderment, Darcy handed her his own.
Since he had been at Netherfield, he had been given a large room in the family wing.
His room was three doors down from Miss Bingley’s.
Bingley had insisted upon putting Miss Bennet, and thence Miss Elizabeth, in the family wing as well, in a suite of rooms that happened to be located another three doors from Miss Bingley’s—but in the opposite direction.
In his befuddled condition, he must have turned the wrong way, ending up in Elizabeth’s bed instead of his own.
“With the benefit of hindsight, I can see all the errors I have made. I ought to have confronted my mistress when I suspected what she had concocted. I should have seen you safely to your room, instead of escaping safely to mine. I have clung to this position for my young brother’s sake, but he is a fine boy.
He would be the first to tell me that his education is not worth my soul. ”
Darcy swallowed, nearly overcome by the ghastly notion of waking to find himself in Caroline Bingley’s bed.
What might have happened, had Whitby not intervened?
He had never been overfond of Miss Bingley, but neither had he hated her; with the subsequent guilt and worry for his honour and reputation, who knew what he might have done to compensate?
It was too repulsive a thought to even consider.
“Please, madam, you are not to berate yourself on my behalf any longer,” he said, as soon as he could speak.
“I am grateful for your confession, as the explanation for my behaviour that night has been deeply troubling to me. I will tell you, just between the two of us, that I was already, before Friday, on the verge of offering for Miss Elizabeth, so far from ruining my happiness, you have saved it. I will do all in my power to ensure that her happiness does not suffer either. But Miss Bingley has much to answer for. I shall do my best to keep your name out of it, however. I owe you a debt of the first order, one that I shall never forget.”
She took a quivering breath. “I thank you for your kindness. I am grateful you were not harmed unduly, but if you must reveal to her my confession, I am prepared. In any case, I cannot continue to work for such a woman,” she said. “I shall be giving her my notice.”
“I understand. But I believe that very soon, she will be leaving, regardless, and it will not garner any particular attention if you choose not to accompany her. There is no reason for her to know of your involvement. Let it end here.”
Her shoulders straightened, and she smiled with visible relief. “Thank you, sir.”
When she stood, he did as well, bowing low, a sign of his respect. “I would ask one thing more of you. Might you bring me that laudanum bottle, if it is still available?”
“I believe it is yet where she left it. If so, I will bring it to you at once.”