CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

 

 

Darcy was methodical about his time in London. He arrived after the sun set which meant having to take the last miles slowly. But he did not regret the stop to say farewell to Elizabeth.

Darcy easily obtained the special license the next morning. Then he considered his family: Georgiana was still at Pemberley. He thought how hurt she would be if she was not included as part of his wedding. Darcy admitted that he did not wish to take the time to ride to Pemberley to fetch her, so he thought to employ a substitute: her other guardian, their cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Finding Colonel Fitzwilliam proved a more difficult endeavor than Darcy initially assumed. Darcy called at the small house that his cousin occupied only to discover that he was not at home. A message was left for his cousin, but Darcy did not hear from Fitzwilliam that day (not the afternoon, the evening or even in the night). They were family and had no qualms about calling outside of proper hours. Darcy thought that given the nature of his note, his cousin would promptly return the call, but Fitzwilliam made no appearance despite Darcy’s impatience to return to Hertfordshire.

When Darcy returned to the colonel’s house the next morning, he was informed that his cousin had come home late, yes Colonel Fitzwilliam had been given the note, but the colonel had left first thing as he had been summoned to the Admiralty House. A summons to his general trumped even Darcy’s betrothal. So Darcy filled his morning with meaningless activities while he waited for his cousin, and while he considered that he might already be on the road to Hertfordshire.

Darcy could have been on his way to fetch Georgiana had he known his cousin was proving so inconvenient to locate. Their meeting had a certain tension when Colonel Fitzwilliam finally came to call, just around midday, at Darcy House. Darcy wondered if his cousin was so busy with his general that the colonel was angry with his interruptions and request. Darcy thought his cousin should be grateful that he had found love.

There had been time that morning for Darcy to consider that for Fitzwilliam; love came with a price. Most of the money in the family went to Fitzwilliam’s brother, who would inherit the title, the estate, and the vast majority of the income that the estate, Langley, generated. Though his uncle, the Earl, gave Fitzwilliam an allowance, Darcy thought (not for the first time, but with a great deal of sympathy) that his cousin, Maurice, could not marry his heart’s desire if the woman he loved were penniless.

So when Fitzwilliam showed up, Darcy greeted him with some hesitancy even though Darcy was anxious to be on the road. He asked. “I need a favor. I want to marry, and I need you to fetch Georgiana for me.”

Fitzwilliam was surprised and perplexed. Darcy saw the raised eyebrows, the start of his head, even something undefinable in his cousin’s eyes. “You can’t fetch her yourself? Is there a rush?” asked the colonel.

“Yes,” Darcy replied. “I already have a special license.”

“This is quick. Do I know the lady?” Fitzwilliam pressed.

“Actually you do. You introduced me to her,” grinned Darcy; he could not help it.

“I did?” Fitzwilliam said. “Who is she?”

“Elizabeth Bennet.” The tension in the room increased then.

“You are truly blessed if you believe you can secure that lady’s affections,” Fitzwilliam observed, his voice very even.

“Thank you,” Darcy replied. “But I believe we might be able to marry in short order, and I wish for Georgiana to attend. I would appreciate it if you could fetch Georgiana from Pemberley. I wish to return to Elizabeth this afternoon, if possible.”

Colonel Maurice Fitzwilliam had a hundred questions he wanted to ask. First off was, had Darcy done the asking and been accepted? The way his cousin had spoken, Fitzwilliam wasn’t quite sure if Darcy was so arrogant as to obtain a license without first obtaining the lady’s permission. It was possible that Darcy would do something like that, but Colonel Fitzwilliam asked none of the questions which pounded against his forehead because there was a wealth of emotions coursing through his body at the same time.

Fitzwilliam had admired this same lady, though his mother had dissuaded him from considering her “because she was as poor as a church mouse. You need an heiress the way you spend money.” The Countess had said nothing else against Elizabeth’s prospects as a wife. Fitzwilliam could not deny his habits, but he also could not deny his admiration for the young lady. Maurice had worked hard to try to change some of those habits that summer in an attempt at reforming himself. It seemed that all of that had been in vain.

“You’re to return to her, to her family?” threw out the colonel.

“I’ve been staying with Bingley; he’s leased an estate which is quite near where she lives. I rediscovered her,” explained Darcy. The way his cousin spoke and the sideways glance told Fitzwilliam that it was no accident, this meeting with Miss Bennet.

“She lives in Hertfordshire?” confirmed Fitzwilliam.

“Yes,” answered Darcy. There was no mistaking his impatience.

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t hit the road now. As long as we’re to travel north, I might as well stop over. Do we have time to return to Hertfordshire by the evening?” Faithful on the exterior; Maurice’s insides told a different story.

“It is but a half-day’s journey,” assured Darcy.

“Then let us be off. You don’t suppose Bingley would mind putting me up for the evening? I can continue to Derbyshire tomorrow,” said Fitzwilliam.

“Of course!” asserted Darcy, his eagerness was apparent.

“I’m a soldier. I can pack and be on the road faster than you can.” It was almost a challenge. One place where Maurice Fitzwilliam out-shone his cousin.

***

They did leave in a short amount of time though it was still the afternoon when they set off north. It was like the day when Darcy had left; sunlight failed the pair at the end, and they had to make their way in the darkness, walking their horses the last few miles as they came into Meryton.

The lights from the remote cottages and businesses in town were a welcome sight to Fitzwilliam. There had not conversed much as they had ridden. He had offered his congratulations, though the colonel had not felt the same elation that he espoused about the prospect of Darcy marrying Elizabeth Bennet.

Darcy directed him to turn down a road, but Fitzwilliam spied the unmistakable sign of a public-house. He called over, “let us stop for a drink.” His cousin agreed.

Despite the darkness and the hour, men were sitting outside smoking, with tankards in-hand. Fitzwilliam and Darcy pushed past them after having tossed a coin to a scrawny lad who they asked to walk their horses so they did not cool down too quickly. They explained that they would not be long.

It was smoky inside as well, larger than Fitzwilliam expected, and cramped like most public-houses were—full of men busy at their drink. His eyes moved about for the publican, and Maurice raised his hand slightly when he spied the man. But Fitzwilliam also heard a hiss of breath from his cousin, and the colonel turned to look at Darcy, noticing the whiteness of his cousin’s face. He followed Darcy’s gaze to discover where Darcy stared. George Wickham sat at a small table staring back at them. Wickham sat by himself, an empty bowl of some meal before him, an empty tankard beside it, though another was in his hands. Wickham spied Fitzwilliam looking at him as well as Darcy, and Wickham raised his drink in a mock salute.

“Let’s leave,” Darcy said quietly without turning to look at Fitzwilliam. The colonel nodded without saying anything. He was in the process of pulling a coin out of a pocket when Wickham called out. “Come join me!”

Darcy shook his head a modicum.

“I saw you, you know,” cried George. Fitzwilliam felt, rather than saw a change in Darcy’s attitude next to him. Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to look at Darcy, who had gone from white to red now. Fitzwilliam did not understand either Wickham’s remark or Darcy’s response.

“Come join me,” repeated George. This time it was the voice of a man bent on seduction. Fitzwilliam did not feel inclined to go, but Darcy took a step forward, and then another until finally, two more steps took him to the chair that faced Wickham, and Darcy pulled it out. His cousin sat facing the vile creature that they both despised. Fitzwilliam did not understand, but grabbed one of the few empty chairs at another table without seeking permission and sat askew at a corner of the table, next to Darcy.

“You’ve been missed.” George took a pull of his ale. He was like an actor on the stage who knew eyes were upon him. He took another long deep pull of his ale, taking time to swallow it down.

“I am under no misapprehension that it was you who missed my presence in Hertfordshire,” alleged Darcy.

“I have been visiting at Longbourn,” Wickham re]vealed as he placed the tankard on the table.

Again Colonel Fitzwilliam could sense rather than see his cousin’s response next to him.

“She misses you. That was quite the farewell in the Hollybush Woods, the day you left,” taunted George.

Darcy’s hands came up to thump on the table. “What are you playing at George!”

There was another drawn-out pause as Wickham took a sip of his ale. The landlord made his appearance as well, placing two tankards in front of them, Fitzwilliam threw down the coin which he had been fingering in his pocket.

“I’ve spent the last two days trying to figure this out, Darcy,” smiled Wickham. “Trying to figure out what sort of arts and allurements Miss Elizabeth Bennet has that could so captivate you.”

Darcy’s gloved hands still rested on that stained and worn tabletop, but Darcy slowly drew his left hand up into a fist.

“You’ve never been one for the ladies, for all that they are ones who follow you around like bitches in heat. It must be pleasant having money.” Wickham’s eyebrows rose in amusement.

“You’re a bastard, George!” Darcy stood, kicking the chair out behind him. “You’ve no right to be in civil company. To be calling at Longbourn. You’re a vile man.”

“Darcy!” Fitzwilliam called to him, but it was as if Darcy didn’t hear.

“You’re so cock-sure,” insulted Wickham, leaning back and looking at him. “You stand there incensed like you’re offended! Like I don’t know about that tryst in the woods with Miss Bennet.”

“What?” stated Darcy in a voice that Fitzwilliam didn’t even recognize.

“I suspected that the youngest Bennet daughter would give her favors easily, but I hadn’t imagined Miss Elizabeth was a whore. How is it that you surround yourself with whores, Darcy? A tryst in the woods with Elizabeth and a whore for a sister? Do you know how close I came? Georgiana practically begged me; she was so ready to give herself to me.”

Wickham found his head turned under the power of Darcy’s hand. Darcy wrenched the glove off of his hand and threw it on the table.

“You will name your seconds, Wickham,” growled Darcy.

“It’s to come to this, is it?” lamented George. “Pistols at dawn and some pathetic code of honor. I guess I better finish this and get to it then. All over a mere strumpet.” Wickham spat on the ground before he drained the last of the ale out of his mug.