Chapter Twenty-Nine
Longbourn
Darcy
It was Sunday, which put Oakham Mount quite out of the question.
Darcy wished for the privacy to explain to Elizabeth what had passed in Meryton and why the sight of George Wickham had provoked so violent a reaction in him, but there would be little opportunity for such a conversation before or after church.
He had not seen Wickham since Ramsgate, and the unexpected sight of him had awakened an anger Darcy had believed himself capable of governing.
That Wickham had been standing amongst the Bennet sisters, speaking with Elizabeth as though he had every right to her acquaintance, had made the provocation considerably worse.
For several seconds, sheer discipline alone had kept Darcy in the saddle rather than allowing him to dismount and strike the man.
Riding away had been the only prudent course left to him.
It had not, however, been a particularly satisfactory one.
Darcy had spent much of the previous evening regretting that Elizabeth had witnessed his loss of composure without being given any explanation for it.
She knew nothing of Wickham beyond whatever acquaintance had begun in Meryton, and Darcy could not know what the man might have said after his departure.
The possibility troubled him considerably.
He trusted Elizabeth's judgement. He did not trust Wickham's ability to make falsehood resemble injured innocence, and he trusted still less the prospect of Wickham remaining in Meryton without eventually finding someone upon whom to practise it.
His only comfort lay in the certainty that Wickham could not have been long in the neighbourhood.
Darcy had never seen him amongst the officers before, nor had Wickham been present at Colonel Forster's table when Darcy and Bingley had dined there.
It did not prove that he had only just arrived, but Darcy was persuaded that, had Wickham been in Meryton for any length of time, his presence would have become known soon enough.
George Wickham had never possessed much talent for remaining unnoticed, nor, Darcy reflected grimly, had he ever possessed much talent for remaining out of trouble.
A man might alter his circumstances more readily than his character, and Darcy had seen nothing in the years of their acquaintance to persuade him that Wickham had acquired either principle or restraint.
If he had attached himself to the militia, Darcy could only wonder what necessity had driven him to it and what fresh scheme might presently occupy him.
He would speak to Colonel Forster. Darcy had no intention of recounting the particulars of Ramsgate, which concerned Georgiana too nearly to be repeated, but Forster commanded the regiment and ought to know something of the character of a man serving under him.
Wickham's debts, his extravagance, and his willingness to misrepresent his dealings with others were matters Darcy could speak of without exposing his sister.
Whether Forster chose to act upon the warning would be his own affair, but Darcy would not remain silent and afterwards discover that Wickham had been permitted to cause fresh harm for want of anyone troubling to speak.
By the time Darcy entered the breakfast room that morning, he had determined upon only one thing with certainty.
He would not seek Elizabeth out on Oakham mount, nor would he attempt so serious a conversation in the churchyard beneath the observation of half the neighbourhood.
He would see her at church, if the Bennets attended as he expected, and afterwards he would find some proper means of speaking with her.
Bingley had asked very little the previous evening.
He had followed Darcy for nearly a mile before overtaking him and, once satisfied that his friend was neither ill nor in danger of committing murder upon some unfortunate inhabitant of Meryton, had wisely postponed his questions until they returned to Netherfield.
Darcy had told him only that Wickham was a man he had known many years before and that an offence had passed between them which Darcy neither could nor intended to forgive.
Bingley had never met Wickham. By the time their friendship had brought him frequently to Pemberley, Wickham had long since forfeited every claim upon Darcy's friendship and had ceased to be received there.
Bingley, being Bingley, had accepted the explanation with considerably less curiosity than most men would have shown.
The Bennet family attended church as Darcy had expected.
Elizabeth was amongst them.
His attention found her almost immediately, though the presence of her family and half the neighbourhood prevented anything beyond the customary greeting. She received him with perfect civility, but there was a questioning look in her eyes which told Darcy that she had questions.
After service, Mr. Collins introduced himself.
Darcy had been prepared for the possibility from the moment Elizabeth mentioned Lady Catherine the previous morning, but preparation did little to improve the experience.
Within three minutes he understood perfectly why his aunt had bestowed a living upon the man.
Mr. Collins's admiration of Lady Catherine was absolute, his gratitude inexhaustible, and his ability to introduce her name into subjects which had nothing whatever to do with her approached something very near genius.
Darcy endured a description of Rosings, a second account of his aunt's condescension towards the parish, and an assurance that Lady Catherine frequently spoke of Pemberley and its master with the greatest affection.
He doubted the last exceedingly.
Mr. Collins then expressed his regret at not having recognised Darcy in Meryton the previous afternoon, together with his mortification at having lost an opportunity of paying his respects to the nephew of his distinguished patroness.
Darcy assured him that no apology was necessary.
Mr. Collins appeared to interpret this as encouragement to continue.
By the time they parted, Darcy had developed a considerably greater sympathy for Elizabeth's flight from Longbourn the previous morning.
Bingley required very little persuasion to accompany him there later in the day. Indeed, when Darcy mentioned his intention of calling, Bingley immediately remembered that he wished to deliver the invitations for the ball at Netherfield himself and declared the arrangement excellent.
They arrived at Longbourn in the late afternoon and were received with the customary warmth of Mrs. Bennet, whose pleasure at seeing them had by now become sufficiently familiar that Darcy no longer wondered at it.
Bingley had scarcely entered the room before Mrs. Bennet began lamenting Jane's fatigue of the previous day and assuring him that she was now perfectly recovered.
Darcy's attention went elsewhere.
Elizabeth was seated near Jane, and the look she gave him upon his entrance was neither cold nor displeased. It was, however, unmistakably questioning.
He had expected nothing else.
Mr. Collins proved a greater difficulty.
The gentleman appeared delighted beyond measure to encounter Darcy again so soon and lost no time in renewing the acquaintance begun after church.
Lady Catherine entered the conversation almost immediately.
From Lady Catherine they proceeded to Rosings, from Rosings to Hunsford, and from Hunsford, by a route Darcy could not afterwards have explained, to the size of the chimney-piece in Mr. Collins's drawing room.
Elizabeth caught Darcy's eye once during this recital.
The amusement in hers very nearly ruined his composure.
He endured another quarter of an hour.
Bingley, meanwhile, had delivered the invitation to the Netherfield ball and was now engaged almost entirely with Jane.
Mrs. Bennet could not have looked more pleased had the marriage already been announced.
Kitty and Lydia were occupied with the prospect of the ball, Mary had returned to her book, and even Mr. Collins's attention had at last been claimed by Mrs. Bennet.
It was at this point that Darcy saw his opportunity.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, turning towards her, “might I trouble you to show me something of the garden? I confess I have called at Longbourn several times now and have seen almost nothing of the grounds.”
Elizabeth looked at him with some surprise before glancing towards her mother.
Darcy followed the look and immediately understood the difficulty.
Mrs. Bennet had heard him. “Oh, certainly, Lizzy! You must show Mr. Darcy the garden. Though there is very little worth seeing at this time of year, I am sure. In spring it is much prettier. You ought to show him the shrubbery as well. And the little wilderness beyond it.”
“Mama,” Elizabeth said, with admirable patience, “I believe Mr. Darcy asked to see the garden, not to purchase it.”
Mr. Bennet, who had followed only half the conversation over the top of his book, lowered it and smiled at his daughter's jest.
Even Darcy could not conceal a smile.
Mrs. Bennet waved the objection away. “Well, go along, then. You will have little enough daylight if you sit debating the matter.”
Elizabeth rose. “Very well, Mr. Darcy. I shall endeavour to make Longbourn's November-garden worthy of your inspection.”
“I have every confidence in you.”
The look she gave him suggested she understood perfectly that he had no interest whatsoever in the garden.
They went out by the side door and followed the gravel path away from the house.
The afternoon was cold but clear, and the fading light had already begun to lengthen the shadows beneath the trees.
Darcy waited until they had put sufficient distance between themselves and the windows before speaking.
“I suppose you know why I asked you to show me the garden,” Darcy began. “There is little purpose in pretending otherwise, so I shall speak plainly. I owe you an explanation.”
Elizabeth looked towards him. “I had suspected the garden was not your principal object.”
“No.”