Elizabeth stood with her eyes closed, willing herself to be calm. The first thing she saw when she opened them threatened to throw her emotions once again into disarray. There, on top of the pianoforte, was the music Mr. Darcy had given her. She had brought it down from her room after breakfast, intending to try one of the pieces before the gentlemen’s visit, but there had been no time. Mrs. Bennet had kept all of her daughters occupied with various tasks until the moment Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley arrived.
Kitty and Lydia had achieved their heart’s desire of the previous day: both were allowed to walk into Meryton. Their mother had sent them out early to purchase some new ribbon for Jane’s hair. Lydia came back bursting to tell her family that she had seen Wickham and cut him on the main road. “You would have been so proud of me, Mama. I turned away like this,” she demonstrated to Mrs. Bennet, who stood with Elizabeth and Jane in the latter’s room, “and I refused to acknowledge his greeting. But Kitty walked right up to him as we have always done before, and they talked and talked as if everything was the same, only she won’t tell me what he said. Make her tell, Mama! Oh; Jane, here is the ribbon. I picked it out myself. Kitty was too busy talking to go into the shop with me. I hope Mr. Bingley will like it.”
Neither her mother nor Lydia could persuade Kitty to reveal any part of her conversation with Wickham. Whatever the matter was, it weighed heavily on her, for she seemed at least as preoccupied as Elizabeth herself and had behaved with open hostility towards Mr. Darcy.
It had begun the moment she saw him approaching Longbourn. “Mr. Bingley is here, Mama! The man with him looks just like Mr. Darcy.” Kitty jumped back from the window. “It is Mr. Darcy! I had hoped he would not show his face in Hertfordshire again. How dare he come here! I, for one, shall not welcome him.”
“Kitty,” he mother scolded, “you certainly will welcome him, though I must agree with you that nobody wants him here. We all must be civil, for Jane’s and Mr. Bingley’s sakes.”
“But he is the cause of Wickham’s difficulties! If only he had not withheld the living, Wickham would be so much better off.”
Lizzy could hold her tongue no longer. “As would we, for in that case we never should have met him at all. Kitty, there are many things you do not know, such as the fact that several years ago Mr. Wickham resigned all claim to assistance in the church in exchange for a large sum of money from Mr. Darcy.” She ignored the looks of surprise on her sisters’ faces. “It is his mismanagement of that sum, not anything Mr. Darcy has done, which has resulted in Mr. Wickham’s present poverty. Beware that you do not let him fool you any longer with his charming manners and smooth words. Whatever he said to you today, I would not assume it is the entire truth, or even that it is true at all.”
“Who told you that?” Kitty demanded. “Was it Lady Catherine?”
“No.” Elizabeth hoped to put an end to the conversation by her short answer.
“Lizzy,” Lydia asked her, “Maria never said anything to us about Mr. Darcy giving Wickham money, other than the one thousand pounds in the old man’s will. How do you know so much about it?”
Fortunately Elizabeth was spared the trouble of a reply, as the gentlemen had reached the house and at that instant were being escorted to the drawing room. The callers’ happy timing did not put an end to her discomfort, however. She sat wondering how to demonstrate her preference for the company of Mr. Darcy while avoiding the raised eyebrows and questions such a preference would inspire. Her family, other than Jane, knew only of her pointed dislike. Behaviour on her part that suggested friendlier feelings would alert the suspicion of everyone present.
Mr. Darcy looked just as handsome as he had the previous day. Elizabeth curtsied to him and felt her knees wobble. She steadied herself just in time to see Kitty cut him with her eyes and step away. He noticed the gesture and looked questioningly at Elizabeth, but she could do no more than offer an apologetic shrug.
Mr. Bingley soon excused himself to consult with Mr. Bennet on “a personal matter,” eliciting smiles from all the ladies. Mrs. Bennet, giddy with excitement, exerted herself to speak to Mr. Darcy more than she ever had before. Mr. Darcy rose to the challenge, haltingly at first. Elizabeth watched, dumbfounded, as two people who had so little in common exchanged several sentences with only minor evidence of silliness on one side and haughtiness on the other. Mr. Darcy looked serious as usual despite the improvement in his manners, but perhaps he could not in her mother’s presence be what he was before her uncle and aunt. It was an uncomfortable, but not an improbable, conjecture.
After such a good beginning it was impossible that the visit should continue so; Lydia, clearly bored with the current topic of conversation, interrupted her mother mid-sentence. “Mr. Darcy, is it true that Wickham has been lying to us about the living in Derbyshire? Lizzy says he refused it and you gave him a great deal of money instead.”
“Lydia!” Jane hissed, mortified. In a calmer voice, she said, “Mr. Darcy, I apologise.”
Kitty glared at Mr. Darcy. “I doubt he can give us an answer that will satisfy.”
“Kitty!” Elizabeth took her turn at checking one of her sisters. “Mr. Darcy, the fault is mine. Just before I departed Kent, Lady Catherine shared with some of us her opinion of Mr. Wickham. It seems she conducted an investigation of sorts into his habits when she visited Derbyshire about five years ago.” She looked at him in silent sympathy for all he had endured since his father’s death. “Miss Lucas, understandably concerned by your aunt’s information, discussed the matter with her family and mine yesterday upon our return from town. Some of us,” she glanced at Kitty, “are more reluctant than others to accept that we may have erred in our estimation of Mr. Wickham’s character. The subject of the living arose just before you arrived, and I happened to mention that Mr. Wickham once refused a career in the church in favour of more immediate remuneration.” She hoped he understood that this was the only part of his letter she had revealed and that his account of Miss Darcy’s thwarted elopement remained a well-kept secret. “This…disclosure has inspired many questions among my sisters, as you can see.”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes had remained on her throughout her speech, and though he appeared anxious at first, she soon saw that determined look she knew so well. “Miss Elizabeth, thank you for that explanation. Mr. Wickham can be quite convincing and I cannot blame anyone for having believed him. My own father doted on him and supported him generously for many years.” He turned to face some of the other Bennet girls. “Had he lived, Miss Lydia, my father would have offered Mr. Wickham a valuable position in the church, and he recommended in his will that I do the same. However, Mr. Wickham decided against taking orders and expressed a desire to study the law instead. I gave him the money he requested to support him in that endeavour.”
“How much?”
“Please, Lydia!” Elizabeth hung her head in embarrassment. She risked a glance at Mr. Darcy and caught the offended expression on his face just before it disappeared. ‘He will want nothing to do with me now,’ she thought. Sister to Lydia and Kitty! From such a connection she could not wonder that he should shrink. She absolutely started, therefore, when she heard him answer Lydia’s indelicate question. Several voices had sounded then, one after the other, some overlapping.
“Three thousand pounds! That cannot be true!”
“Why, that is more than Longbourn’s annual income.”
“How generous of you, Mr. Darcy.”
“I wish someone would give me three thousand pounds! I would know just what to do with it.”
“A fool and his money are soon parted.”
They all had stared at Mary in incredulous silence; all, that is, except Mr. Darcy, who quickly checked his bitter laugh. “How appropriate, Miss Mary. I cannot say who was the greater fool, Wickham or I. He neither completed his law studies nor lived prudently on the interest of his four thousand pounds; in that light, my money was thoroughly wasted. Yet I could have done no less than what my father asked of me. I would gladly do the same again, foolish as it would prove to be.”
Mary apologised immediately thereafter, assuring Mr. Darcy that she meant no slight against him at all. Kitty, on the other hand, continued to glower, saying little to anyone, until Mr. Bingley returned with Mr. Bennet and declared himself to be the happiest of men. Mrs. Bennet suggested they remove to the garden while she saw to dinner preparations. “You arrived so early, Mr. Bingley. We have a bit of a wait before dinner is served. However, I am sure our cook can arrange something in the meanwhile.”
The party eagerly consented, happy for a change of subject and scenery. Elizabeth lingered behind. At the last moment she took off in a different direction, stopping in front of the instrument, and now she was trying her best to recover from the disastrous conversation and wondering what excuse she might invent so she would not have to face Mr. Darcy at the dinner table.
She set before her some of the music and read the first few measures of a song, slowly picking out the melody. She played it again, tentatively, and again, more confidently.
The fourth time, Mr. Darcy surprised her by approaching the pianoforte and playing the same notes an octave lower.
“Oh!” Her hand flew to her bosom. So much for her hope of avoiding him. “I heard footsteps, but I thought it was my father.” He only smiled. “You are making a sport of testing my fortitude.” She was glad he had come, if only to provide her an opportunity to express regret for her sisters’ unfortunate behaviour.
“I did not mean to alarm you, Miss Elizabeth.”
Oh, his voice…its teasing lightness tempted her to dismiss every unpleasant thought from her head. Apologise, or avoid the painful subject altogether? The first, she decided, was the proper course. “The weather is lovely,” she said to break the silence and give herself time to choose the right words. “I thought you would have gone out.”
“Without you?”
“I must beg…” Elizabeth’s half-formed apology, spoken at the same instant as his question, froze on her tongue. Their eyes met, and she suspected her cheeks were overspread with the deepest blush.
She played a little more of the song to conceal her agitation. Mr. Darcy followed her as well as he could. In a few moments she felt recovered enough to speak again. “Have you ever tortured poor Miss Darcy in this way?” she asked him, and he grinned in response. “How am I to practise properly with your constant interference?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Consider this a test of your musical fortitude.”
“Mr. Darcy!” She laughed and played faster, disregarding the written notes altogether. “Stop!” When he did no such thing, she challenged him, “We shall see which one of us is the true proficient!” She played bits of scales and familiar melodies and nonsense, moving quickly between them and altering her tempo until he was thoroughly confused.
“I declare you the proficient,” he said at last. “My clumsy hands cannot compete with your skilled ones.”
“Your hands are far from clumsy, Fitzwilliam.” He had kept pace with her rather well until she had begun to play a song she and Jane had composed as children. His long, elegant fingers were anything but awkward; his right hand felt so solid and warm…it was the warmth that made her realise her hand partially covered his. She gasped as she recalled how familiarly she had addressed him.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy.” She swallowed hard and closed her eyes in shame. “I have behaved no better than my younger sisters. Forgive me.” Her whispered words filled the room.
“For what, Elizabeth?” He had caught hold of her wrist before she could pull away completely. “You cannot possibly believe I object to your use of my name.” Though his smile was slight, his eyes sparkled. “However, I think we had better go out to the garden with the others.”
Elizabeth nodded. Slowly she slid her hand through his until they were no longer touching. Mr. Darcy gestured to her to precede him out of the room, but her feet refused to move.
“Elizabeth, dearest, if I remain here with you, I am certain I shall do…something I ought not.”
She forced her trembling lips into a smile. Still, her voice faltered. “If you are quite certain, I suppose I must believe you.”
“Please do not tease me now. I should hate to do anything you might find objectionable.”
“And I should equally hate to witness it.” Mr. Bennet’s voice startled the couple and they quickly separated.
“Father!” He had not the indulgent look of her dear ‘Papa’ as he stared at them from the doorway. How long had he been there?
“Mr. Bennet.”
“Mr. Darcy, may I have a word?”
After a brief glance at Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy wordlessly followed Mr. Bennet out of the room.
Elizabeth paced back and forth in front of the pianoforte. She had been left alone no more than half an hour, likely less; twenty minutes?—surely more than ten!—long enough, at any rate, for the others to trickle in from the garden and congregate in the drawing room once more.
Mrs. Hill came to fetch Mr. Bennet, and Elizabeth cringed at the tone of her father’s impatient reply. The housekeeper soon walked by in a huff. “I shall come with Papa, Hill,” Elizabeth called after her. “He will not be much longer, I think.” The servant nodded and disappeared down the hall.
A few minutes later the men returned and Mr. Darcy approached her. “Miss Elizabeth, will you grant me a private audience tomorrow morning?”
She looked at him and then at her father, who stood off to the side. Rarely had she been unable to read her father’s face, but at that moment his expression gave away nothing.
“Certainly, Mr. Darcy.”
“I thank you.” He did not smile as she had hoped he would. “Shall we join the others?” This time he did not have to ask her twice.
When they entered the drawing room, Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, was begging Mr. Bingley to take some refreshment. “Do try one!” she said, indicating a particular dish. “I ordered it in honour of your engagement to dear Jane, after all.” She looked up at the doorway and her lips stretched taut, her expression recalling to Elizabeth’s mind the earlier tension in that room. “Oh,” Mrs. Bennet said after a slight hesitation, “and Mr. Darcy, do sit down.” She gestured towards a chair and immediately turned her attention again to Mr. Bingley.
“I appreciate your hospitality, madam.” Elizabeth was surprised that Mr. Darcy’s tone held no trace of sarcasm or resentment, though he must have noted the carelessness of her mother’s invitation compared with her preferential treatment of his friend. “However, I find that I must see to an urgent matter of business and ought to take my leave very soon.”
Elizabeth dropped her gaze to the floor. How wrong everything had gone, and how suddenly! First, Lydia and Kitty and even Mary had ruined a perfectly good visit with their improper remarks. Then, Elizabeth herself had behaved scandalously at the pianoforte, and her father had only made it worse by calling Fitzwilliam to task for what had been her fault! Who knew what words had been exchanged behind the closed doors of her father’s library? Now, her mother’s preoccupation with Mr. Bingley had caused her to be almost dismissive of her other guest. Elizabeth could hardly blame Mr. Darcy for wanting to escape Longbourn as quickly as possible.
She only hoped he did not regret being compelled to pay his addresses to her sooner than he might have wished, if he still wished it at all. He, who had been his own master for so long!
What an inconvenient time for Mr. Bennet to take up the role of protector and defender of his children’s honour. Had she been Lydia, flirting with some of the officers at Aunt Philips’s house or at Lucas Lodge, her father would have been content to laugh at her, if he would have bothered to attend the gathering at all. He rarely went into society with them and therefore had not witnessed half of the folly and impropriety of some of his family. It simply was not fair.
As she wallowed in her misery, Mr. Bingley took steps to relieve her suffering. “Darcy, you cannot abandon us now! You must stay for dinner and you must taste this heavenly confection.” He took a bite and groaned in pleasure. “Besides, today is a day of celebration. Surely your work can wait. Make an exception for me, old friend.”
Mr. Darcy smiled for the first time since returning to the larger company. “I shall, Bingley, if you insist.” He looked warily at Mr. Bennet, who, thankfully, offered no objection. “But I shall have my dessert after the main course, and not before.”
“If there is any left!” said Mr. Bingley. “Mrs. Bennet, I must commend your cook.”
Elizabeth knew Mr. Darcy dared not sit by her with her father watching them both. She wrung her hands together as he looked about the room and at last chose a seat near Kitty. Kitty! Now, there was trouble in the making.
Kitty rebuffed his first few attempts at conversation. They appeared at a standstill for several minutes, but soon the two of them were inexplicably talking, truly talking, conversing with such flow and intensity as to draw the notice of a few others. Elizabeth strained but could not make out a word of what was said between them. She never quite mustered the temerity to call out, “What is it you are talking of?” as Lady Catherine might have done in her place, no matter how sorely she was tempted.
When the time for dinner came, she took a turn about the room. As she passed the sofa where Mr. Darcy and Kitty sat, she heard a little of their dialogue.
“Why not?” Kitty was asking him. “If she had plenty of money and no objection to sharing it, why was it wrong?”
“There are several reasons I can name. Miss Catherine, shall we continue this conversation over dinner?”
Were they speaking of Miss King? At least Kitty was listening, though it seemed she still took Wickham’s part.
Elizabeth followed them out, intending to sit near them and hear more, but her father intercepted her and placed her hand on his free arm. Had she not with great effort turned her thoughts from her own misfortune to Jane’s utter happiness, she might have given way to tears right then. She walked solemnly to the table with her parents and resigned herself to a very different sort of dinner than she had envisioned that morning.
Part 11
Elizabeth was awakened in the night not by dreams, but by voices outside her room. She heard Lydia shouting something and Kitty answering her. Determined to stop the argument before it disturbed anyone else, she crept across the hall and opened their bedroom door.
Lydia was busy donning a robe and slippers. Kitty was sitting up in bed with her arms wrapped around her knees. “I told you, stay away, Lydia,” Kitty was saying. “Pay no heed to it.”
They heard a tap at the window, or just below it.
“There it is again!” Lydia ignored her sister’s warning. “Should we not send a servant to see what it is? Even better, I shall go down myself. It will be like an adventure!”
Another tap was heard; they all looked to the window and then away.
“I shall tell you both what I find.” Lydia turned to the door.
“NO!” Kitty immediately covered her mouth. “Go back to bed,” she insisted in a harsh whisper, “and keep the light away from the window or he will know I—”
“Who will know?” Elizabeth demanded.
Kitty disregarded Elizabeth’s presence altogether. “Just pretend you heard nothing, Lydia.”
“Lydia, sit down.” Elizabeth pulled her by the hand to the nearest chair. “No one is going anywhere, at least not yet.” Elizabeth sat at the foot of Kitty’s bed. “Kitty, do you know who is out there?”
Flustered, Kitty would not meet her eyes. “I cannot say.”
“What do you mean, you cannot say? It is well past midnight, surely, and someone is on our grounds throwing stones at your window! You cannot convince me it is a common burglar, since he means to rouse the household.”
Elizabeth got up and peered into the hall. There was no one else to be seen. She closed the door and sat back down. Why would someone deliberately try to wake the two girls? Lydia appeared to know nothing about it, while Kitty did not seem surprised or curious at all, only anxious. Every possible explanation that occurred to Elizabeth’s mind troubled her. “Kitty,” she begged, “please tell me what you know.”
Kitty only buried her face in her hands. Elizabeth had to strain to hear her next words. “Oh, go away! I don’t want you anymore!” Kitty turned her back to the window. “If only he would go away!”
“You did not agree to meet someone at this hour, did you?” Elizabeth hoped her sister was not so careless of her own safety or reputation. She desperately hoped the person outside was not who she suspected he might be.
They heard yet another clink against the glass. Kitty’s hands flew to her ears. Elizabeth grabbed the younger girl by the shoulders and shook her. “Tell me!” she hissed at her, refusing to be put off again. “Is that man out there waiting for you?” Her eyes widened as Kitty burst into wracking sobs.
Elizabeth’s feelings vacillated between anger and compassion as she embraced her sister and attempted to calm her. Lydia, surprised by the intensity of the scene, simply stared in silence. The three sat in semi-darkness until Kitty was quiet again.
There were several more taps, followed by a loud, dull sound far below. The noise continued, but inside the house now; someone else had taken notice—her father, or one of the servants. Shuffling, heavy steps and muffled words echoed in the corridor.
Elizabeth saw that Kitty had nearly cried herself to sleep. Lydia extinguished the light and groped her way back to her own bed. Elizabeth covered Kitty in a blanket before leaning down to whisper in Lydia’s ear, “I shall see if Papa can tell me anything. Stay with her.”
Downstairs, all was in uproar. Elizabeth heard her father’s voice above the din. “Jones! Prepare to deliver a message to Colonel Forster in ten minutes. If I must be dragged from my bed for this nonsense, so must he.” And again, “You, there—take another with you and guard the door. Make certain the rascal is gone and does not come back.” The servants bowed and scurried in various directions.
“Papa, what is the matter? Who was here?”
Mr. Bennet appeared to notice her presence for the first time. “I am sorry the commotion roused you.” He looked up to the top of the stairs. “Go back to bed, Mary, Lizzy. All is well. Things will quiet down in a moment.” Elizabeth glanced up in time to see Mary’s long plait flapping against the back of her nightgown.
“I heard noises…”
She followed her father to his desk and watched as he pulled out pen and paper.
“Why do you not go back to bed?” He scribbled furiously. “These young men from the north are nothing but trouble. Oh, that they had never come to Hertfordshire! Jane’s Mr. Bingley is the only tolerable one of the whole lot, and by far the most gentlemanly.”
Elizabeth paled. “Who was outside, Papa? Why are you writing to Colonel Forster?”
He paused and looked up. “You heard quite a bit. It was not Mr. Darcy, if that’s what concerns you!”
Her mouth dropped open. “I never thought it was.”
“Did you not?” His stern, disapproving look pained her. “Ah, well, no need to worry, Lizzy. I am certain you are not involved in the business this time.” His severe expression relaxed into one of bemusement. “Never before have I fancied myself under an attack of nerves—my own, not your mother’s—and I sincerely hope it never happens again.” He stared at her, and when she did not comment, he asked, “Do you not wish to hear why that is? What do you think has happened, Lizzy, to threaten to turn me into Mrs. Bennet?”
She did not understand how he could make flippant remarks at a time like this. “I hardly know.”
“A young man in Forster’s regiment knocks on my door at half past two in the morning, and when I open the door, do you know what he says? I am sad to report it is not, ‘Mr. Bennet, I humbly beg your pardon for calling on you at this ungodly hour,’ or anything remotely sensible. No, indeed! He whispers, ‘Kitty, where have you been?’ Before he sees my face, of course. Kitty! Hmph!” He hunched over his desk and again applied himself to his writing. “This is how he repays my hospitality; this is how he thanks me for his frequent teas and dinners at Longbourn! If that seducer thinks he can run off with one of my daughters, he is greatly mistaken.”
“Run off?” To meet with the man at night, for whatever reason, was foolish enough, but surely Kitty had contemplated nothing worse; surely she had not been so completely lost to everything… “Who was at the door?” Elizabeth had no need to ask, but she desired confirmation all the same. She knew very well who it was. She simply could not make herself believe it or say the name aloud.
“Lizzy, have you not worked it out for yourself? Where is your wit tonight?” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Asleep, I suppose, as it should be, considering the hour.” Her father had misunderstood her entirely, but there was no help for it. “The man is Wickham, of course! Have you forgotten that he grew up in Derbyshire? He has mentioned it often enough.” He looked her in the eye. “He used to be quite a favourite of yours, until you chose another. You seem to be partial to gentlemen from that county.”
He completed and sealed the note. “Wickham was carrying a travelling bag. I would not be surprised if he had thought to steal away on one of my horses with Kitty and her pocket money in tow.”
Mr. Bennet briefly left the library to dispatch the missive. Rather than return to his desk, he paced the room.
Elizabeth allowed her thoughts to wander while her eyes followed her father’s movements. She recalled the day’s events, contrasting her sister’s earlier conduct with her words and manner in her room just minutes ago. “Papa, if what you suspect is true, we may have Mr. Darcy to thank that Kitty is safe. He must have talked her out of meeting Wickham.”
“What?”
“Kitty spoke with Mr. Darcy at dinner, remember? She had been angry with him all morning, ever since she had returned from Meryton, where she had seen and talked with Wickham—that must have been when they arranged to meet—but she was kinder to Mr. Darcy by the end of the visit. Perhaps something he said changed her mind.”
“I must speak to Kitty myself, though I do not relish the prospect. I imagine she has been awake for some time,” he closed his eyes, “packing her belongings.”
“She is doing no such thing, I assure you. I hope she is asleep by now. I left her room just before coming down here.”
“Why?” He looked up and frowned. “Did you catch her trying to sneak out of the house?”
“No. She did not even leave her bed. She heard something at the window but absolutely refused to acknowledge it and refused to allow Lydia to do so. In fact, we both had to stop Lydia from coming down. She was quite eager to discover the source of the disturbance. She thought of it as an adventure, I believe.”
“Oh, tell me no more, please! I shall not even entertain the notion of my youngest and silliest daughter coming face to face with a redcoat in the middle of the night! Else, I truly will have reason to complain of my poor nerves.” He shook his head. “I am glad you succeeded in keeping Lydia upstairs. But perhaps Kitty was only waiting for you and Lydia to return to bed. Might she have intended to come down later, do you think?”
“No. I heard her say she wanted him to go away, though she never mentioned his name. She was very distraught. I know she and Mr. Darcy talked of Mr. Wickham, and I am certain he is somehow behind her decision not to go through with whatever she had planned.”
Mr. Bennet was silent for a few minutes. Elizabeth, too excited to sleep, lingered in hopes of hearing further news.
“I have no wish to be indebted to Mr. Darcy,” her father said at last. “My opinion of him is not very high at the moment.”
“He is an honourable man, Papa.” Mr. Bennet looked at her as though she spoke gibberish. “Please do not hold the events of yesterday against him. The fault was mine.”
“You did not force him to call you Elizabeth or ‘dearest,’ did you?”
She lowered her head. “He has treated me with nothing but respect.”
“Lizzy,” he replied through clenched teeth, “the man has treated you with improper familiarity in my presence and under my roof!” He sighed and ran his hand over his face. “I have neither the time nor the energy to devote to this now. I must await Colonel Forster’s reply. Go to bed, Elizabeth.”
Part 12
The morning activity of the Bennet household, at first glance, revealed blessedly few traces of what had transpired during the night. In looking back to what they had endured only six hours ago, Elizabeth felt all the advantages of this quick return to normalcy.
Kitty’s empty chair at breakfast was the most noticeable indication that anything was amiss; fortunately, Mrs. Bennet remarked on her tardiness only twice. The meal proceeded without incident until Mary asked Mr. Bennet whether the problem, whatever it was, had been solved and received a gruff, unintelligible response for her trouble.
Mrs. Bennet paused in her eating. “What problem, Mr. Bennet?”
“A slight disturbance behind the house. It has been taken care of.”
Jane looked up. “I thought I heard someone walking the halls while it was still dark, but I was not sure.”
Elizabeth looked at Jane and smiled. She was grateful for the way things had turned out. A rash act by one of their sisters would have thrown a shroud of scandal over Jane’s engagement. “I am sorry,” she told her sister, “that you were roused from such pleasant dreams as you must have had last night.”
“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Bennet joined in. “Mistress of Netherfield! How well that sounds! Jane, we must call on my sister Philips today to tell her the good news.”
“I did not hear a thing after I finally fell asleep again,” said Lydia. “Lizzy, did you ever come back into my room? I am sure I did not notice. Kitty is bound to have a dreadful headache from all that crying. When she is better, I shall make her tell me who was throwing things at our window. Did you see who it was, Papa?”
Mr. Bennet tried and failed to contain the curiosity unleashed by Lydia’s speech. He was in the midst of soothing his wife’s nerves and assuring her Longbourn had by no means been under attack when Mrs. Hill came in.
“Mr. Darcy is here to see you, sir.”
“Mr. Darcy here, without Mr. Bingley?” asked Mrs. Bennet. “And so early?”
Mr. Bennet stood and threw his napkin on the table. “Show him to the library.”
“Yes, sir.” The door closed on Mrs. Hill, and Mrs. Bennet turned back to her breakfast.
Mr. Bennet looked at Elizabeth for a moment before speaking. “Lizzy, when you have finished eating, fetch that new book from your room and bring it to the library, please.”
“Yes, Papa.” Elizabeth was glad her mouth was empty; else she might have choked on her food. Had her father discovered and read her letters? She lost what little appetite she had remaining and rushed upstairs to do as she was told.
She heard Jane running after her and slowed her steps.
“I am so sorry, Lizzy.” Jane hurried Elizabeth into her room and shut the door. “It is my fault. After the gentlemen left yesterday and you went to your room, Papa inquired minutely into our last days in town, particularly concerning any interactions between you and Mr. Darcy. At some point in our conversation I told him that Mr. Darcy had carried a book home for you. Perhaps I should not have mentioned my uncle’s conjecture that Mr. Darcy may have in fact loaned the book to you, or even purchased it for you. Of course, my aunt and I declared it unlikely, but my uncle seemed so certain.”
“Oh, no.”
“I believe Papa saw something between you and Mr. Darcy yesterday that concerned him. I only wished to ease his mind and assure him of my belief in Mr. Darcy’s sincere affection for you. Please forgive me if I have done you any harm.”
“No, Jane. Truly, you have done no harm.” She smiled sadly. “I have accomplished that all on my own. I just wonder whether Papa came in here at any point to examine the book for himself.”
“Is it important? Was it Mr. Darcy’s gift to you?”
“Yes, in a way, but the reason for my concern is that it is where I have kept all his letters.”
“Letters! How many?”
“Three. The first one contains an explanation of business transactions between Darcy and Wickham.”
“So that is how you knew about the three thousand pounds.”
“Yes. The other two letters are rather more personal in nature. I just hope Papa is ignorant of their existence.”
“I am certain he is.” Jane watched as she found the letters a new hiding place. “Come, Lizzy. There is no need to worry now, is there? It will all turn out well. Papa is just upset that he knew nothing of your courtship. You know how little he likes surprises when they involve his own family’s affairs.”
“True. But what could I say? That Mr. Darcy might come to Hertfordshire to pay his addresses to me? That I might like him enough to marry him, after hating him so vehemently for months? I felt I could do nothing unless he declared himself.”
“Is that why Mr. Darcy is with Papa now?”
“Oh, Jane! If only it were that simple…but it is too late. I must go.”
The girls were halfway down when Jane stopped. “Did something truly happen last night to make Kitty ill? Perhaps I should look in on her.”
Elizabeth agreed. Jane turned around and went up to Kitty’s room while Elizabeth gripped her book with white-knuckled hands and walked to the library door.
“Lizzy, is that you? Come in.”
She joined her father and her suitor.
“Miss Elizabeth.” Mr. Darcy stood. His eyes widened when he noticed the book in her hands.
Mr. Bennet murmured something about his brother Gardiner always having been a clever fellow.
“Mr. Darcy, good morning. May I return this to you?” Elizabeth gingerly held out the volume to him.
He took it from her and they sat, waiting for Mr. Bennet to begin whatever conversation he felt necessary to have before allowing them a moment of privacy. Elizabeth fully expected a reprimand of some sort. She was not disappointed.
“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet began, “as I said to you before, I will not tolerate the level of impropriety that I witnessed yesterday in your behaviour towards my daughter. Your manner is entirely inappropriate while no understanding exists between you.” He looked at them intensely. “You have not been secretly engaged, have you?”
“No indeed, sir.”
“No, Papa.”
“Yes, well, the fewer secrets, the better.” Elizabeth, thinking of her letters, blushed at her father’s words. “I have had enough of clandestine meetings under cover of night to last me the next twenty years.”
“Pardon?” Mr. Darcy’s confusion was clearly etched on his face.
Elizabeth still keenly felt the debt of thanks she owed him for his forbearance the previous day and seized the opportunity presented to her. “Mr. Darcy, I am sorry; you have borne much at our hands already, but I must ask for your continued patience. There has been little rest at Longbourn since last we met. We had an unexpected visit from one of the officers very early this morning, before dawn, in fact.” She dreaded telling him the next part. “It appears he had formed designs on one of my sisters.”
She could see him sorting the facts in his mind and arriving at an accurate conclusion. The rage that flashed across his face just before he spoke did not surprise her. “Is Miss Catherine—”
“Yes, you are correct,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Kitty is well, or soon will be, thanks in no small part to your talk with her yesterday, I am sure. I dread to think what might have occurred had you not taken the time to speak to her.”
“I had no idea they had agreed to meet! I only knew he had her sympathy and I did not want her to be taken in as so many others have been.”
“You would have been pleased with your efforts had you seen their effects last night. She steadfastly refused to come down or to acknowledge his presence at all.”
Mr. Bennet had remained silent throughout the exchange. His sour expression made Elizabeth realise just how firmly set against Mr. Darcy he was; he had neither asked for an explanation nor expressed the slightest gratitude for the saving of his daughter’s reputation.
She looked from her father to the man she now knew she wished to marry. Her Papa sat nursing his wounded pride while Fitzwilliam could barely remain seated for the anxiety he felt regarding her younger sister’s welfare. Elizabeth continued more gravely than before. “Mr. Darcy, you have accomplished far more than any of us has been able to do. Please allow me, on behalf of my entire family, to thank you, for most of them do not know how narrowly we have avoided discredit and misery, or to whom we are indebted for our present good fortune.”
“I did not do it to be thanked, but I am happy to have been of use to you…and your family.”
Mr. Bennet roused himself to offer the pair an opportunity for private discourse. Without a word he opened the doors onto the lawn. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth proceeded through them to a stone bench several feet from the house.
Once seated, Mr. Darcy inquired, “Is the wind too much? Shall I get your shawl?”
“No, I am quite warm.” Elizabeth turned towards the library windows. As she had expected, Mr. Bennet was watching their every move. “Mr. Darcy, please do not allow my father to force you into a situation you would not choose for yourself.”
He took her hand. “Elizabeth, look at me.”
“How can you bear it?” she cried. The more she looked, the less she saw of that proud, aloof man who had come to Hertfordshire so many months ago and insulted her at the assembly. “My family, excepting Jane, has treated you abominably, and I am the worst offender of them all! How can you abide us?”
“Your aunt and uncle were very kind to me…”
She smiled a little; she could not deny that.
“…and your mother has been gracious.”
“Barely!”
“She is about to acquire Bingley as a son-in-law. He had every right to the lion’s share of her attention yesterday.”
“But my father—”
“Had every reason to act as he did.”
“He has not even thanked you for what you have done! If not for you, he might at this very moment be calling on every neighbour for miles around, attempting to discover Kitty’s whereabouts.” She squeezed his hand. “You have preserved one of his daughters from ruin and the only thing he has done is to scold you for a breach of propriety that pales in comparison! I am so ashamed.”
“I deserved the scolding, and what is more, I feel no shame at all.” He sought her gaze. “Elizabeth, what is all this talk about your family? Where is the formidable young lady who defended the Bennets’ honour and stature against my ill-bred remarks at Rosings?”
She took a little time to form her answer. “The events of the last several hours have shaken me, I admit. And in losing my prejudices against you, perhaps I have lost a little of my boldness as well. Those same prejudices are behind much of what you suffered yesterday and continue to suffer this morning. Had I not voiced my disapproval so decidedly and so often, my family might have a better opinion of you now and treat you as you ought to be treated.”
“I have done nothing to solicit their good opinion. You once spoke to me of my pride, arrogance…”
“Oh! Do not repeat what I said then!”
“…and selfish disdain for the feelings of others. I have thought about that again and again, and I have come to the conclusion that you were right to accuse me of those things. When I first came to Netherfield, I did not give your family the respect they were due. I dismissed you before I even knew you. Even after we became acquainted, I never looked for the good in your situation, only for those things that confirmed my opinion that your connections were beneath me.
“Yesterday, during our conversation in the drawing room, I determined to look at your family afresh. Do you want to know what I saw?” She shook her head, but he smiled and continued to explain. “I saw my beloved’s mother and sisters, and among them at least two impressionable young girls who had been misled by Mr. Wickham, much as Georgiana had been. I also realised I was in an ideal position to do something about it. I had asked you not to reveal my secret—or, rather, my sister’s secret—but complying with my wishes left your own sisters vulnerable to Wickham’s schemes. Thus I felt obliged to answer Miss Lydia’s questions and to speak to Miss Catherine myself.”
“You take too much upon yourself.”
“I do not believe so. I have begun to look upon them, and Miss Bennet and Miss Mary, as my own family. As such, they should have my protection if they are in need of it.”
“Your family…” she repeated, still finding it hard to believe that he was intent upon gaining such a mother and father and sisters…and a woman such as herself.
“Can you have any doubt whatsoever about my intentions, Elizabeth? What more can I say? What must I do to convince you?”
“Fitzwilliam, there is nothing you need do. That is what I have been trying to tell you. I do not want you to be under obligation to me.”
He smiled. “At least you are calling me by my name again. And there is one thing I can and must do.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. “I had this with me two days ago when we were still in London. I kept it in my pocket along with the letter I gave you. Unless you can tell me honestly that you want nothing more to do with me, you will have to put this on before we return to the house.”
“Why?” The gold and jewels sparkled in the sunlight. A ripple of nervous pleasure ran through her. “Because my father expects to see it on my finger?”
He rolled his eyes. “You are impossible.”
She tried to laugh but her voice came out in a breathless rush instead. “Was that a proposal, by the way?”
“No, merely your last chance to avoid one.” He knelt before her. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, will you do me the great honour of consenting to be my wife?” He whispered, “I love you,” and tears welled in her eyes.
For a moment she was too overcome to say a word.
He caressed her hands. “What is wrong, dearest?”
Elizabeth did not know what she felt, only that she had never felt it with anyone but him. ‘I think I love you, too, Fitzwilliam,’ she thought. “Nothing is wrong.” How right he had made everything. She shook her head and the tears fell. “Nothing at all.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
He placed the ring on her finger and kissed her hand. Then he helped her to her feet. “I would ask you for a proper kiss, but your father is staring at us.”
“I think you are right.” She never would have believed it possible, but Papa had managed to detract from one of the most important moments of her life. She pushed her annoyance and frustration aside. She was an engaged woman, after all! “But Mr. Darcy, are you certain you would ask my permission?” she teased him, feeling more like herself. “Would you not just steal a kiss instead?”
“Perhaps, Miss Elizabeth. We shall see when the time comes. Now I had better speak with your father.”
When they started walking towards the house, Mr. Bennet turned away and sat down at his desk. Elizabeth let her eyes trace the back of her father’s head. For once, she was glad not to be able to see the expression on his face. “Mr. Darcy,” she wondered aloud, “how long will you be at Netherfield this time?” She received no answer. “Fitzwilliam?”
She looked up at her intended and immediately found herself physically prevented from repeating her question. In fact, for one long, delicious moment, she was hard pressed even to recall what that question had been.
Claiming a kiss to seal the engagement was not more than Elizabeth had expected from a man violently in love, but she granted that perhaps her father did have one valid reason to distrust Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
The man was a thief, and a very, very good one at that.
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