Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
She laughed despite her disappointment. Did she feel shame? Not entirely. Not for asking, but for his refusal. She had been impulsive, and he was right to demand prudence, but oh, to know him, to truly know him, what a thing that might have been. A month was ever so long to wait!
He caught up with her and took her hand.
“Darcy—” She stopped and smiled. “How strange to address you less formally!” He nodded in agreement, and she said, “Pray, if Mama carries on, do not change your mind about me.”
He laughed. “I already know of your mother’s…enthusiasm.” He added, “If I am unable to withstand it, I shall depart to speak with the vicar about the banns on my own. Does that sound agreeable?”
She nodded.
A noise caught their attention, and as he turned his head, all colour drained from his face. He stood as still as a deer spotted by a hunter.
“What is the trouble, Darcy?” She followed his gaze.
Just across the meadow, Mama, Lydia, Kitty, and a man Elizabeth did not know were walking towards the house.
“What is it?” she asked.
“W-Wickham.” His face remained immovable.
She gasped. “The man who attempted to— The one Miss Darcy spoke of?”
He nodded, dropped her hand, and left at a sprint.
Elizabeth’s mind took a moment to realise what was happening, and ran after him, but she was much slower.
Before he had even reached Mr Wickham, she heard Darcy bellowing. “You!”
Elizabeth saw her mother and sisters huddle together in astonishment.
Darcy continued as he ran, “How dare you come here? Rake! Scoundrel! Bounder! Wastrel!”
Mr Wickham stood perfectly still, watching the imposing figure of Darcy charging him, and Papa emerged from the house.
When Darcy was within reach of Mr Wickham, he took hold of Mr Wickham’s collar, shaking him. “Get out! Get out of this town! Out of this county!” He shoved Mr Wickham, and Mr Wickham stumbled a little, though, incredibly, he still did not react. “Leave the entire country, for all I care!”
“Darcy!” Elizabeth cried, but he did not turn to her.
“What is the meaning of this?” called Papa, now close enough to separate them bodily if need be.
Mr Wickham glowered. “We have an old score to settle.”
“What has not been settled?” asked Darcy, angrier than she had ever seen him. “You must be mad!”
Mr Wickham narrowed his eyes, though a smile played on his lips. “Is your sister at Netherfield?”
At the mention of Georgiana, Darcy punched Mr Wickham so hard that the impact could have been heard from the woods. Mr Wickham crumpled to the ground, and Darcy winced and held his hand against his chest, yet stood ready for the fight to continue.
“Gentlemen, enough!” yelled Papa. “I do not know the meaning of this altercation, but it must stop at once! Mr Darcy,” he said.
When Darcy seemed to pay him no mind, Papa gestured to Elizabeth.
She hurried forward a step and rested a hand on Darcy’s shoulder, hoping it might calm him.
His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, though he kept his eyes fixed on Mr Wickham.
Then of all things, Lydia swooped towards Mr Wickham, offering a hand.
This set Mr Darcy to bellowing again. “No! He is not worthy of your help!”
Lydia leapt away, eyes wide.
“How did you find me here?” asked Darcy.
“Some of the servants at the Grosvenor Street house still have affection for me. They said you came to this little town for dear Bingley’s wedding.
What a true friend you are. To some.” At this last bit, his lips curled into a snarl for the briefest of moments before smoothing into a smile.
He reminded Elizabeth of a fox in a fairy tale.
“I told you, Wickham, that if I saw you again, I would kill you. What would possess you to come here?”
Mr Wickham rose to his feet, touching his face and grimacing. “The money you gave me was not nearly enough.”
“It was ample. More generous than you deserved. What have you done with it?”
Mr Wickham wiped away blood with the back of his hand and felt again at his cheek, which was already beginning to swell and purple. “A young man needs funds for an exciting life, and I had to seek excitement elsewhere since you stole away your sister.”
Darcy launched himself at Mr Wickham. The female Bennets screamed, but Papa was able to push Darcy back before turning to Mr Wickham. “Sir,” he said to Mr Wickham, panting, “I demand that you leave my lands.”
Mr Wickham, a smirk on his face, backed away, winking at Lydia, who giggled.
Mr Darcy was tense, but did not attack again.
Mr Wickham walked off, strolling rather than hurrying, which Elizabeth suspected was for Darcy’s benefit.
The entire party watched his figure vanish around the bend in the road.
What a turn of events. A proposal. Acceptance by her father. Moments stolen in the woods. Temptation. A fight. All in one afternoon. The earth seemed to tilt under Elizabeth’s feet.
She said, “Let us leave this unpleasantness and go inside.”
Mama said, “Yes,” her voice trilling with excitement. “Girls, let us retire to the parlour.” At the door, she shouted, “Hill! Tea! Oh, my nerves.”
Darcy neared Elizabeth. “I must depart immediately to gather my sister.” His voice shook. “She is not safe alone while that man is about.”
She nodded, understanding completely. Lowering her voice, she said, “Perhaps you could bring her back so we might make our announcement and, well, celebrate together?” She felt foolish speaking of their engagement after the tumult of moments earlier, but wanted the news out. And to turn from the unpleasantness.
“I…” He paused. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He went to take her hand, but stopped short, wincing.
“Is it broken?”
He shrugged. “I fear I cannot hold reins at present. Mr Bennet?” Her father turned, and Darcy asked, “I must beg that a servant be sent post-haste to Netherfield to collect my sister.”
Papa nodded and hurried to arrange it.
Elizabeth was walking with Darcy into the parlour, and was bringing him to the sofa when Lydia announced to Kitty, “That Mr Wickham is ever so handsome.”
Darcy rounded on her. “He is a scoundrel. Do not allow yourself to fall prey to his charms.”
“He was very charming,” said Mama as she flounced onto a pink-cushioned chair, and Darcy shook his head, his face murderous.
“Mrs Hill,” Elizabeth asked as she entered with tea, “is there ice left from the wedding?” When Mrs Hill affirmed, Elizabeth begged her to bring some for Darcy’s injury.
“What a shock to see men fight,” said Kitty.
“Yes,” said Lydia, “I have only seen it twice before: outside the inn and at a ball when Miss Adams was flirting with two men at once.” She and Kitty laughed, and their mother joined in, though Mama did throw Elizabeth a look of concern.
Elizabeth suspected she might fear for a daughter who was interested in a man prone to violence.
Yet Darcy was not. Mama did not know him, though Elizabeth suspected that his wealth would overshadow any doubts she had about him.
She suddenly thought that even if Darcy had hit her, Mama would think the homes and carriages worth the bargain. She hoped that was not true.
Mrs Hill brought ice and bandages, and a flurry of activity to see to his hand distracted Elizabeth from the full upset of Mr Wickham’s unwelcome appearance.
She could not betray Darcy’s trust and tell her family why he had reacted in such a fashion to Mr Wickham, but she wished they could know the mild, loving version of the man that she knew so well.
When the other ladies departed to dress for dinner and they were alone at last, Elizabeth sat close to Darcy, their hips touching.
They whispered of what had occurred, of his shock and anger, of his despair at his outburst, and she reassured him that she did not think less of him but understood completely.