Chapter 7
SEVEN
FITZWILLIAM DARCY
He was struck anew by her cleverness. In forewarning Sir William that Wickham might make spurious claims regarding Georgiana, anything the reprobate chose to say—true or not—would be discounted as a falsehood.
And though the gentleman had not in any way impressed him during their acquaintance, he found himself quite willing to trust in Elizabeth’s judgment of the man; she, who had known him the whole of her life, must understand him well.
There was yet some risk, and would be while Wickham yet lived to speak, but it was worth the gamble.
To thwart him in his depredations, perhaps to see his behaviour at last confined by a watchful colonel and all the invisible shackles of military service in wartime, and in so doing to partially atone for his own mistakes in handling the blackguard, that was worth some risk.
In the worst case, if he spoke of Georgiana and his tales made their way to town, Darcy’s own reputation for probity would lend weight to his denials, while Wickham’s known history of debt and debauchery would cast a deep shade upon his claims. Any tattle would be a nine-days’ wonder, dismissed as improbable once the thrill of fresh gossip faded.
The family had weathered the talk, when Wickham had been sent to Cambridge with him, that the steward’s son was in truth Mr George Darcy’s natural child, and this would be more readily set aside.
“It is settled, then. Sir William will be the champion of the ladies and merchants of Hertfordshire, and I shall assist him with proofs if required. And should Colonel Forster wish to rid himself of his troublesome lieutenant, I feel I may speak for my cousin in saying that he would be happy to use his connexions to have Wickham transferred to a very strict regiment indeed.”
Elizabeth laughed, and he basked in her joy and her beauty.
In the next instant, a ribbon of searing light rent the darkened sky and a great calamitous noise shattered the drumming of the rain and set the windows to rattling in their casements.
The Parsonage itself seemed to tremble; the dregs of his tea rippled in the cup before him.
They both flinched violently, and from some other room came a shriek from the maid or the cook.
Elizabeth pressed a hand to her chest, as if to quell the racing heart within. “My word,” she breathed. “I think the lightning must have struck something or other, to make such a clamour.”
“I think you may be right,” he said, sounding a little breathless himself. “I do not think it was so far away as Rosings, so we must hope it has hit nothing more valuable than a signpost or a tree.”
“Yes,” she said with a frown. “There are a few cottages between here and there, however.”
“As soon as this storm has ended, I must return to Rosings,” he replied.
“I shall keep a sharp eye out for any sign of damage. There is nothing anyone may do at present in such a tempest, but if a cottager has been displaced, I shall ensure they are cared for.” Lady Catherine would not wish to involve herself; she would likely claim they should not have been so foolish as to allow their cottage to be struck by lightning, he thought wryly.
“One hopes it will let up soon,” she said with a worried glance to the window. “The sun will set in an hour or so, and though there can be nothing for the gossips in your taking shelter here, if you must remain for the night, I fear there may be some talk.”
“The storms here in spring can be fierce,” he allowed, “but I have never heard of one that lasted so long as that. Oh, it may rain for some hours yet, but once it has spent its rage I shall go, with an umbrella and a lantern, if necessary.” The thought of parting from her was bitter; he was soon to return to London, and then when might they meet again?
At Bingley’s wedding, if his information was received as he hoped, and Miss Bennet proved forgiving?
But perhaps it would be best for his peace of mind if they did not often meet in future, though the thought of being rarely in her company was intensely painful.
What a fool he had been! He had run off to London on Bingley’s heels, hoping that he should never encounter her again, only to find her image ever before him.
He thought of her, he dreamt of her, he mistook other ladies for her on the street.
When first he arrived in Kent and heard that she was visiting Mrs Collins, he had for a moment believed himself to be in the grip of another dream.
When he had reconciled himself to the fact that her presence was indeed real, he had been quite vexed, as though fate had conspired to torment him.
Now he understood that fate had given him an opportunity which he had, in his hubris, squandered.
He had been so concerned with his own feelings and doubts that he had not troubled himself to notice that she did not even like him.
Had she accepted him despite that, as many ladies would have done, he would have ended in precisely the miserable situation from which he had sought to save his friend—wed out of affection to a lady who saw only his wealth.
And he had been wrong about that, as well!
Oblivious to his self-recrimination, she smiled and said, “In the meanwhile, allow me to call for more tea.”
He watched with sidelong gaze as she moved to the bell-pull and spoke with the maid when she answered its summons, admiring her easy, unaffected posture and the way she gave even the lowly parsonage maid her full attention as they spoke.
Wherever she went, she must be liked by the servants, for she treated them as people rather than dumb beasts, as so many were wont to do.
His own mother had been rather more distantly cordial with the servants, but even this had been enough to ensure that those who were yet in his employ still remembered her fondly.
He had fought his attraction to Elizabeth because she was not of his circle and did not ape their manners, and yet that was precisely why he had liked her.
She did not beg for his notice, put on airs to impress him, or pretend to be aught but what she was.
She would have been an excellent mistress of his homes and sister to Georgiana, and she would certainly have made of him a better man.
All that was lost now, except the last. He had seen himself through her eyes and could not go on as he had been; his every feeling revolted against it.