Chapter 17
Library
Longbourn
Later
Elizabeth walked over to the main window of the library and turned so that the autumn sunlight would reflect on the letter in her hand.
Emerald Island
16th November, 1811
Dear Family,
Father and I will be returning to Longbourn within the week.
Father has been ill for a fortnight, and while it is merely a cold, it is simply impossible for him to study the skies when he keeps coughing.
Naturally, this makes him cantankerous because he wants to gaze at the comet, not to mention the moon.
He is trying to determine some features of the maria through our seven-inch telescope, and it is quite a fascinating study.
Interestingly enough, we can see the maria best when the moon is in its crescent phase due to the shadows.
In any case, we will be returning soon. We are both pleased that the telescope at Longbourn has been polished and the platform is sturdy, because we still wish to watch the comet. I am most curious to see when it disappears in the night sky.
With much love,
Your sister, Mary
Elizabeth smiled, folded the letter, and tucked it in her sleeve.
One of the reasons that she was able to manage both Emerald Island and Longbourn was due to Mary, who, while as devoted to the heavens as Sir Thomas, nonetheless possessed a sensible streak which enabled her to make decisions like hauling the family patriarch back to Longbourn when he was ill.
She looked forward to their return. Sir Thomas would be useless in terms of running the estate, but he could, at least, invite Mr. Collins to Longbourn, which would be helpful.
The clergyman would one day be master of the estate, and it would benefit the tenants if Mr. Collins had some knowledge of Longbourn.
She glanced over at a pile of correspondence that still needed to be dealt with but decided that she needed a break from work.
It was a cold day outside, and she desired some tea and muffins.
Moreover, her sisters and mother would be excited to learn that Sir Thomas and Mary would be returning soon.
She blew out a candle on the desk and made her way out of the library, down the hall, and into the drawing room, where she found her three other sisters and Miss Fairchild sitting about drinking tea and talking animatedly.
“I always thought Mr. Darcy was a cold fish,” Kitty was saying as Elizabeth advanced into the room, “but obviously he is not!”
“I simply do not understand,” Lydia chimed in. “Mr. Wickham is so very handsome!”
“Many a young man is handsome on the outside and villainous on the inside, my dear Miss Lydia,” Miss Fairchild said.
“What are you talking about?” Elizabeth asked, which prompted the other ladies to look up in surprise.
“Elizabeth, sit down, sit down,” Jane ordered, patting the open seat next to her on the green couch.
She obeyed, and Lydia, who was practicing how to pour tea, carefully poured a cup of tea for her elder sister, put in the appropriate amount of milk, and then solemnly handed it to Elizabeth.
“Thank you, Lydia,” she replied with a smile and then turned toward Jane. “What was this about Mr. Darcy?”
“It was quite a remarkable thing,” Jane said, her beautiful forehead creased in a frown. “We met a new gentleman today, a Mr. Wickham, who intends to join the militia as a lieutenant.”
“He is a friend of Captain Denny’s,” Kitty volunteered.
“And he is incredibly handsome and well-spoken,” Lydia gushed, “with dark hair and bright blue eyes. The only thing he needs is a red coat to make him as perfect as a gentleman could be!”
Elizabeth frowned and took a sip of tea. “But Mr. Darcy did not like him?”
“Apparently not,” Kitty cried out, “because he leaped off his horse and handed the reins to a boy standing nearby, and rushed over and pushed Mr. Wickham up against a wall!”
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth responded. “No!”
“Truly, he did,” Lydia chimed in, her eyes sparkling. “Mr. Darcy did not raise his voice, so I have no idea what he said to Mr. Wickham, but he spoke for a full two minutes before turning on his heel and mounting his horse again.”
“What did Mr. Wickham say?” Elizabeth asked.
“He looked pale as a ghost,” Kitty said dramatically, “and merely bid us farewell before walking off with Captain Denny, who also looked surprised.”
“I can hardly blame him,” Elizabeth remarked. “It was obviously a most unusual interaction between the two gentlemen, especially given that they were in public. Miss Fairchild, what do you think of the situation?”
Miss Fairchild was knitting a scarf, but she lifted her gaze and said, “I know nothing about Mr. Wickham, of course, and little about Mr. Darcy, but given the latter’s reputation and demeanor, it is obvious that there is genuine passion involved and all of it negative.
I think it would behoove all of us to tread cautiously with Mr. Wickham. ”
“For that matter,” Jane said in a practical tone, “we know nothing of any of the officers. They seem like pleasant men, but we do not know their histories or habits.”
“But they are so handsome,” Lydia said dramatically and then laughed as her sisters and governess turned reproving looks on her.
“I understand,” she said, now solemnly. “It is marvelous having more gentlemen in residence for balls and assemblies and the like, but we need to be cautious. We should not trust them anymore than we would trust an unknown dog that appears.”
“Yes, that is right,” Elizabeth agreed, smiling approvingly at her youngest sister.
Lydia was extremely energetic and strong-willed, and even overly boisterous on occasion, but she loved and revered Miss Fairchild.
Elizabeth shuddered to think what would have happened if their governess had not joined their household so many years previously.
Lydia, headstrong and her mother’s favorite daughter, would likely have run completely wild, and Heaven only knows what sort of trouble she might have gotten into.
“By the by,” she said, suddenly remembering her letter. “Father and Mary are returning next week.”
This provoked cries of joy from the other ladies, and the conversation shifted away from Mr. Darcy and the mysterious Mr. Wickham and on to the reunification of the Bennet family.
But in the midst of conversation and excitement, Elizabeth found herself wondering about Mr. Darcy.
She did not pretend to know him well, but he was a good friend to Mr. Bingley and was obviously intelligent and humble enough to apologize for his rude words.
He was also usually very calm, so the report of his interaction with Mr. Wickham was confusing indeed.
What had this Wickham done to bring out such fury in the handsome master of Pemberley?
***
Study
Netherfield Hall
Darcy stirred restlessly, his blood pounding hot through his veins.
Bingley's study, as serene a room as it was, with its banks of windows and plush carpet, deep quiet and bright sunshine, did not reflect his mood at all.
He had raided Bingley's decanter of brandy without compunction, poured himself a generous measure in one of the crystal glasses set nearby and tossed it down his throat.
The burn of the alcohol was in welcome accordance with the burn in Darcy's heart.
Wickham! Here! It beggared belief! Assuredly, he had not followed Darcy here as that would be absurd behavior on the part of the steward’s son.
Wickham might be an audacious rogue, but he was no fool and knew well to avoid the wealthy and socially powerful Darcy.
No, it was some cruel trick of chance that Wickham had come to Meryton to join the regiment, but now that he was here, well, Wickham had never passed up an opportunity to sow discord and cause harm.
He hoped that Wickham was sufficiently frightened by Darcy’s threats that he would keep Miss Darcy's name out of his foul mouth, but there was no certainty of that, either.
“Darcy? What is wrong?” Bingley demanded, rushing into the room and pushing the door behind him with one energetic hand.
Darcy turned toward his friend and managed a slight smile. “Thank you for coming, Bingley. Nothing is … well, something is wrong, but it is nothing urgent. I apologize for alarming you.”
Bingley relaxed and said, “Think nothing of it. It is just unusual for you to summon me to the study, though I entirely understand your desire to speak away from my sisters’ curious ears. What happened?”
Darcy frowned and found himself wandering up and down the blue and green oriental carpet for a full minute before he gestured toward the two wingbacked chairs near the fire. “Would you like to sit down?”
Bingley did so immediately, and Darcy sank down in the other chair. He blew out a breath and said, “Have I ever told you about my father’s godson, George Wickham?”
“I believe you have mentioned him once or twice in passing, but nothing of substance.”
Darcy nodded and said, “This is all private, of course.”
“Of course.”
“George Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who served as steward of the Pemberley estates. My father admired and honored the elder Wickham so much that he became godfather to his son. George grew up in the steward’s house and had free run of Pemberley and the estate.
My father supported him at school and afterwards at Cambridge, which was necessary because Mrs. Wickham was extravagant, and thus there was no money to provide a gentleman’s education.
My father was not only fond of this young man’s society, whose manners were ever engaging, he had also the highest opinion of him, and hoping the church would be his profession, intended to provide for him in it.
I was firmly against such a plan because, while Wickham was always careful in the company of my father, he freely displayed various vicious propensities and a want of principle in my presence.
We are very much the same age and were at Cambridge together. ”