Chapter Fifteen
On the road to Hertfordshire
Mr. Wickham watched the normally voluble Miss Elizabeth stare out the carriage window at the passing scenery. The lady had said nothing to him beyond a cordial, if short, greeting upon his arrival.
The business with Mr. Collins had been accomplished rapidly.
Mr. Bennet had concocted some scheme to help increase Longbourn’s profits.
It involved the sale of some land and some investments Mr. Gardiner had recommended.
Elizabeth had not appeared to listen during George’s explanation, which her father had given him leave to divulge to her, and he had wondered at it.
Such topics usually interested the young lady.
He could only wonder at her state of mind, which was so very different from what he was accustomed to.
They had traveled very nearly the distance to London when Miss Elizabeth finally spoke to him. The maid had fallen asleep, and she seemed to deem it safe to speak.
“Do you think,” she said suddenly, with no warning, “that Mr. Darcy’s unyielding temperament is everything he has told me it is? That his good opinion once lost is lost forever?”
Ah, so it was Darcy that had her in a snit. Best proceed with caution.
“I do not know if I can answer that accurately,” he said slowly. “For I once lost Darcy’s good opinion, yet I have been restored to his good graces this last eight months at least.”
“How did you go about it?” Miss Elizabeth asked curiously.
“I do not know exactly how I accomplished it,” George confessed. “I believe that I proved myself to be a true friend to him, one who would stand by him without any expectation of gaining something from him in return.”
Miss Elizabeth sighed and returned her gaze to the passing scenery.
After a few long minutes, George probed her for some answers. “May I ask,” he said tentatively, “to what these questions tend?”
A war of emotions flitted across the young lady’s face. George hoped she would confide in him. They were well acquainted enough now, good friends, even, that it would be entirely proper for her to do so. She turned back to him and regarded him solemnly before she opened her mouth to speak.
“You were correct,” she began, “in what you told me in November, that Mr. Darcy held me in affection. His attentions became more marked in February and March, and he left me in no doubt that he wished to see me again when we parted ways after my sister’s wedding.
He renewed his attentions when we met again in Kent, and I had every expectation of a proposal before I departed.
But then… we argued. Or rather, I said some very accusatory things in a fit of temper, and when I tried to arrange to apologize, he did not meet me as we planned. ”
“What, if I may be so bold to ask,” George said hesitantly, “did you have to accuse him of?”
“Miss Darcy told me that he did not approve of Jane’s marrying Mr. Bingley,” she said softly. “She told me that her brother believed Bingley might have done far better than the near penniless daughter of a country gentleman.”
Georgiana again? Wickham thought. Either Miss Darcy had no circumspection, or her actions were deliberate. The latter seemed ridiculous to George; after all, Miss Darcy had always been the sweetest girl. But all the havoc surrounding the Bennet sisters appeared to have one common link.
“When I confronted him, I did not give him a chance to defend himself,” Miss Elizabeth admitted, continuing to speak when George did not reply. “The next morning, we had word from Lady Catherine that her guests had gone. Even she did not know where they went or why they had departed so quickly.”
George furrowed his brow. Now that was rather odd.
Darcy was fastidious to a fault and observed proper decorum and societal expectations more than even the stodgiest old dowagers.
If the story Miss Elizabeth had been told was accurate, Darcy had departed without even leaving an explanation for his aunt. What could have prompted such behavior?
“In cases such as these,” George said cautiously, “I believe it prudent to assume something of great import to be the cause of these actions. Darcy is not one to act rashly. Perhaps whatever drew him away from Rosings was a matter of life or death?”
“Or perhaps he has realized his very near folly and is even now congratulating himself on his escape. He might have been married to a penniless harridan!”
“I do not believe you can call yourself a harridan, Miss Elizabeth,” George said in amusement. “Darcy is no wilting violet. He is the truest of friends and I have no doubt all shall be known soon.”
Skepticism crossed Miss Elizabeth’s face and she fell silent.
The carriage trundled into London and weaved its way through the streets to the Gardiner’s home near Cheapside.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had graciously offered to host him along with their niece for the night so they might break their journey into more manageable pieces.
Miss Elizabeth continued to keep her thoughts to herself, though George imagined her aunt and uncle could read the distress on her face, try as she might to hide it. Mr. Gardiner and his wife exchanged glances often from across the table, the concern evident in their countenances.
After dinner, Mr. Gardiner brought up a trip he and his wife had planned for later that summer. They were to travel to the Lake district and spend some time touring the area.
Miss Elizabeth finally seemed to perk up a bit throughout this conversation, stating her desire to travel someday.
“Perhaps you might accompany us?” Mrs. Gardiner suggested.
“I doubt my father will permit it,” Elizabeth confessed. “With Jane married and my having just returned from Kent, he will not be eager to have me gone again so soon.”
“We shall have to see what we can do to convince him,” Mr. Gardiner said. “I do not know when we shall depart anyhow. If my business matters conclude in a timely fashion, we may be able to leave in May at some time.”
George commented on the beauties of the north counties and regaled them with stories of his youth in Derbyshire.
Miss Elizabeth listened with rapt attention as George told of the many scrapes he and Darcy had gotten into.
Several of them were the same stories Mr. Darcy had related and it amused Elizabeth that there were two such differing accounts of the mischief, and that Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy had both sought to paint their friend as the better of the pair.
. Mrs. Gardiner also commented here and there when mutual acquaintances or common locales were brought up.
They retired early that night, in hopes of departing for Longbourn with the sun. Miss Elizabeth seemed to be in a more cheerful mood, and for that, George was glad.
Mr. Phillips’s carriage deposited Miss Elizabeth at Longbourn before returning to Meryton.
George’s employer greeted him enthusiastically, and commanded that his clerk rest for the entirety of that afternoon to recover from his journey.
George delivered the legal documents he had been entrusted with to Mr. Phillips before climbing the stairs to his bedroom on the upper floors of the house.
Instead of collapsing onto the bed as he desired, he approached his writing desk and sat down to pen a letter to Darcy.
My Dear Friend,
I am at a loss as to where to begin or what I must say.
Several seemingly unconnected events have taken place over the past several months that I now begin to expect to be rather distinctly entwined.
I beg your patience and understanding as I relate these things, for they involve your sister, and the happenings are so out of character from what I have known of her so as to puzzle me exceedingly.
I shall begin in early March. I have made you aware in my prior letters of my efforts at subtly redirecting the youngest Bennet sisters’ behavior in a more positive direction. I had met with a fair amount of success, I must say, and had hoped the trend of positive behavior would continue.
Then, quite suddenly, both Miss Mary and Miss Lydia’s behavior took a rapid turn in the opposite direction.
Miss Mary’s pious and judgmental behavior returned, and she refused to speak to me on any subject.
Miss Lydia, also, reverted to her previously uncouth behavior.
You know her to have been brash and forward, flirting with anything in a pair of breeches, and such an attitude reasserted itself with her attentions directed at me.
I was quite at a loss. Happily, both ladies seemed to settle somewhat after their rather horrid display during tea that afternoon.
I am sure you remember the event to which I refer.
The afternoon of Mr. Bingley’s nuptials, I was confronted by Miss Lydia Bennet.
I will not relate the entire conversation, for I have no wish to embarrass the girl, but her comments were strange.
She told me that Miss Darcy had encouraged her to behave in a more forward way so that I might be assured of her affections.
She told me of her distaste for your sister’s instructions, without detailing just what they were, though she followed them for a time, in spite of her misgivings.
I can only conclude that Miss Darcy had some hand in the abrupt alteration of Miss Lydia’s behavior, and if I am correct, she also had something to do with Miss Mary’s change of heart.
These were only suspicions that I sought to put from my mind until just the other day.
I had journeyed to Kent to convey Miss Elizabeth back to her family and on the return journey, she told me of your quarrel with her and the catalyst for her anger.
Once again, Miss Darcy’s name was presented as the source of misinformation; namely, that you continued to feel Bingley had married beneath him.