Chapter 22
Drawing Room
Longbourn
The Next Morning
Elizabeth blinked, rereading Ariel’s lament for the second time.
It was rare that The Tempest could not hold her attention, for she had loved it from the first time she had read it, but she was still feeling shaken and scatterbrained from the unfortunate events of yesterday.
An indifferent night had given way to a restless morning, and when Elizabeth had joined her family in the drawing room in search of some lighthearted diversion, her hands had sought automatically for the slender and well-worn volume containing one of her favorite plays.
Normally she enjoyed the antics of Prospero, Miranda, Ariel, and their various enemies, but today even the half-memorized words could not soothe Elizabeth’s uneasy mind.
She kept thinking of the unfortunate Mr. Wickham, striding rapidly across the field inhabited by the ornery bull, ignoring calls to return. Such folly had cost the man his life.
Elizabeth gave her head a clearing shake and lowered her book to her lap, looking about the room in search of a more effective distraction.
All the ladies of the family were present save one, as Mary had sought refuge in the library with her father for a stimulating discussion of astronomy.
Elizabeth had not yet had a chance to speak with her next younger sister, and she thought now of Mary with a pang of anxiety.
How was she coping with yesterday’s horror? Was it still bothering her?
A moment later, reason asserted itself. It was almost certain that Mary was less bothered than Elizabeth, since the third Miss Bennet was a cerebral young woman, without much sensibility.
It was likely she had already put the deceased Mr. Wickham from her mind in favor of comets and moons and mathematical equations.
She did not disdain her sister for this, and indeed, Elizabeth wished she could do the same thing.
Her gaze drifted around her family again, her two youngest sisters in the corner with their governess, Jane sewing serenely, while Lady Bennet paged through the most recent ladies’ journals.
A step in the hallway drew Elizabeth’s attention, and she set her book aside.
The door opened to reveal the Bennet’s butler, with Mr. Bingley at his heels.
“Mr. Bingley,” the butler announced and withdrew.
Lady Bennet leaped to her feet and said, “Good morning, Mr. Bingley. Do sit down, please, and I will order tea.”
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Mr. Bingley made his deliberate way over to a chair closer to her than to Jane. She blinked at him in confusion, and he said, “Miss Elizabeth, I wished to say how grieved I am about your dreadful experience yesterday.”
“Oh,” she replied. “Thank you. It was indeed dreadful, though an accident, of course.”
“Such a foolish man to run into a field with a bull!” Lady Bennet cried out.
“I understand Mr. Wickham was a very foolish man, along with being a reprobate,” Mr. Bingley said.
This caused Lady Bennet’s eyes to glisten with curiosity. “A reprobate? In what way?”
Elizabeth winced, and Jane said reprovingly, “I do not think we ought to talk about Mr. Wickham’s failures. The poor man is dead, after all.”
“Indeed,” Miss Fairchild said in a soothing tone. “It is most unfortunate and I daresay particularly difficult for Mr. Darcy, who had been a friend of Mr. Wickham in past years, I understand?”
“Mr. Darcy knew him?” Lady Bennet asked.
“Yes, they grew up together in Derbyshire,” Bingley said. “They have spent very little time in company over the last years, but naturally Darcy is distressed over the whole affair.”
“I am sorry,” Jane said sympathetically.
“Yes, it is a great pity,” Bingley said, shaking his head. “Darcy has returned to London for a few days to speak with his sister, who also knew Wickham.”
“Mr. Darcy has a sister?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, Miss Darcy is more than a decade younger than my friend and a most charming young lady. She lives in London with her governess companion, and Darcy wished to ensure that she hear the news directly from his lips.”
“That is good of him,” Elizabeth said sincerely. If Miss Darcy was anything like her brother, she was doubtless arrogant, but she was also very young, and to learn that an old friend had died in such a violent way must be upsetting.
“Miss Bennet,” Bingley said, turning his attention back to Jane, “may I ask how you are today?”
“Oh, I am very well, thank you…”
***
Darcy House
London
Late
The peach drapes and lace curtains were drawn across the windows of the east sitting room, shutting out the prying eyes of London and keeping candlelight and firelight inside.
Darcy had never been fond of the peaches and salmons and frills of this room, but Georgiana had loved it from the first time she had set foot into it, and Darcy would not change a room that brought her so much pleasure.
There were sitting rooms and drawing rooms enough decorated in the cooler blue and green and brown shades he preferred, and Darcy House was as much his sister’s house as his own.
He had chosen this room deliberately, with its warm cheerful colors, in which to tell his gentle young sister the upsetting news he must deliver.
“I can hardly believe it,” Georgiana murmured, shifting a little closer to him.
“I know, and I am sorry, my dear sister,” Darcy said softly, taking her hand in his. “I wish I did not have such shocking news.”
Georgiana blew out a breath and then turned toward him with shiny eyes and a determined lift of her chin. “I am sorry that he is dead, Brother, but I hope you do not think … it was all foolishness on my part. I was not really in love with him.”
“I know, and I cannot tell you how much I regret that I did not check Mrs. Younge’s references with more care. It is my fault that you were left vulnerable to her and that wretch Wickham.”
She sighed and said, “You came in time to save me, Brother, and I am grateful. I am also grateful that you took the time to tell me in person of Wickham’s death.
It is sad, but I would be lying if I did not confess to a little relief, too.
He can no longer disclose to anyone what happened at Ramsgate, and I need not fear he will suddenly appear unexpectedly and spread gossip about agreement to marry him. Does that make me a terrible person?”
Now he released her hand and pulled her into a long embrace.
Silence reigned for a minute, and when he finally let her go, he said, “No, you are not a terrible person. I grieve at such a violent end and would have preferred him in prison, but I too am grateful that his lying tongue is silenced regarding our family and reputation. He no longer poses a threat to anyone.”
She smiled tremulously, wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, and sat up straight.
“It is a strange feeling to lose someone who was once a friend and turned into an enemy,” she said gravely and then shook her head.
“But enough of Wickham, please. How are you doing? Have you been enjoying your time with Mr. Bingley?”
“I have very much, though I miss you.”
“I miss you too, of course, but I am pleased that you are able to spend time in the country. I know that you have never been particularly fond of Town.”
“That is true enough,” Darcy admitted. In his role as master of a great estate, he was forced to spend substantial time in London, but he always preferred the wide open spaces of the country.
“Have you met any interesting people in Hertfordshire?” Georgiana asked.
Darcy’s mind flashed instantly to Elizabeth Bennet, with her fine dark eyes and lithe figure, with her intelligent and clever speech, with her vigor…
“Brother?”
He shook his head to clear it and said, “I met an astronomer and his family.”
“An astronomer?” she asked as she blinked at him. “Truly?”
“Yes, a Sir Thomas Bennet. He is fascinated by comets and stars and planets…”
The conversation continued for a few minutes, and then Georgiana yawned.
“My dear,” her brother said after glancing at the clock, “I did not realize how late it is. You must be wishful of going to bed.”
“I am,” Georgiana agreed with a sigh and then turned a mournful look on her brother. “Are you returning to Netherfield soon?”
“I had planned to, yes. As you said, I do enjoy the country more than London.”
She gulped, and her expression was briefly downcast, and then she said, “Please do not leave tomorrow without saying goodbye.”
“I will not, of course,” he replied, and then fell silent for a moment. He missed Georgiana, and she obviously missed him. Perhaps she would like to journey to Netherfield with him?
He asked that very question, and she responded with alacrity. “Oh, I would love that, Fitzwilliam!”
“I must ask Mr. Bingley, but I am certain he would enjoy having you and Mrs. Annesley as guests.”
“Thank you!” she cried out and embraced him fiercely.
***
Breakfast Parlor
Longbourn
Morning
3rd December, 1811
While the inhabitants of Longbourn generally lived harmoniously, the house was more often cheerfully noisy than peaceful.
Elizabeth liked to rise early either to take a brisk walk along paths still wet with the morning’s dew or to break her fast in solitary reflection.
She had chosen the latter this morning, having woken hungry.
Ham and eggs and muffins had already vanished from her plate, and now she was finishing her coffee, reflecting on recent events.
It was nice to have her usual appetite back.
Shock had stolen away all feelings of hunger for two days after Mr. Wickham’s dreadful death, but now, more than a week later, the horror had faded.
The man was safely buried in the Meryton churchyard, in the corner set aside for the indigent and lawbreakers.
Though the burial itself had been fairly quiet, such a startling end to the lieutenant had certainly fueled gossip, and Wickham’s unsavory reputation had spread far and wide.
Though his friends in the militia might mourn his passing, the shopkeepers who had learned of his spendthrift predilections were likely breathing a sigh of relief at being spared the attention of such a man.
There had been whispers too, passed around drawing rooms and behind fans, that Wickham had used his good looks and charm to dishonor susceptible young servant girls in other parts of the kingdom.
Elizabeth was well aware that the rumor mill could take a kernel of truth and distort it all until it was nearly unrecognizable, but she knew that Wickham would often run up debts and then leave town without paying them.
Mr. Darcy held the receipts for hundreds of pounds of debts, after all, and it was greatly to the credit of the master of Pemberley that he had paid off the debts of his erstwhile childhood companion.
Such reprehensible behavior on Wickham’s part was outrageous.
He could have ruined many a shopkeeper, butcher, innkeeper, and grocer, all of whom were dependent on customers paying their credited debts.
For shopkeepers in small towns such as Meryton or Mr. Wickham’s native Lambton, a few pounds more or less could make all the difference between survival and calamity.
Wickham, callous and selfish, had not cared how many lives he destroyed as he went wantonly from town to town, running up debts as he pleased before moving on.
He had used the blessings of good looks, an innate charm of manner, and a gentleman’s education to appear the part of a gentleman, when in truth he was a snake.
Elizabeth scowled into her coffee and then looked up in surprise as the door opened.
Her surprise grew as Sir Thomas entered.
Her sire was not known for rising early, and indeed he was often not seen by his family while in residence at Longbourn until noon or later.
A moment later, Elizabeth remembered that the moon was nearing full and casting a great deal of light by night.
This fact doubtless explained Sir Thomas’s full night’s sleep and comparatively early rising.
The comet that had claimed his full attention was yet bright in the sky, creeping along in its majestic tread across the heavens.
It would still be there when the moon started to wane again, her silvery light dimming and her radiance making way for the further stars.
For now, Elizabeth was grateful that the moon’s brightness was sending Sir Thomas to bed earlier, allowing him more time to rest and recover from his cough.
His appetite, too, was healthy, and Elizabeth was gratified to see him filling his plate.
She was glad that he was the first member of the family to join her in the breakfast parlor, for there was a matter of some urgency which she needed to discuss with him.
“Father?”
“Yes, Lizzy?” Sir Thomas asked as he sat down next to her at the head of the small table where the Bennets broke their fast.
“Do you remember that Mr. Collins will be arriving this afternoon around four o’clock?”
He turned toward her, his brown eyes vague, and frowned. “Mr. Collins?”
“The heir to Longbourn?” Elizabeth replied patiently. “He asked to come, and we agreed that he could do so now that you have returned from Emerald Island.”
The confusion on her sire’s face cleared, and he nodded. “Oh yes, Mr. Collins. I remember that. Today, you say?”
“Yes, this afternoon,” she said. “It would be most peculiar if you were not here to welcome him, Father.”
Sir Thomas frowned hideously and said, “Based on his letter, he is a fool, Lizzy, and will not be at all amusing.”
Elizabeth was rather surprised that her father had bothered to read Mr. Collins’s letter, but she merely grimaced in return and said, “Father, you must be here.”
He wrinkled his nose and then sighed deeply. “Very well, my dear. If you insist.”
“I do,” Elizabeth said firmly.