Most Seriously Displeased
Waiting for Mr. Darcy was hard. Though Elizabeth had no notion that her father would refuse or even hesitate to sanction their union, Elizabeth had gained a healthy respect for the various ways in which something could go wrong. The rumors that had ruined their time together in Meryton, a time that should have been one of joy, had not been random events. Something was lurking in the shadows, something that meant her harm. Elizabeth did not know what it was or why it had targeted her, but it was there all the same.
That did not mean she waited alone or even had much time to consider the misfortunes that had befallen them. She might have worried over the situation had she spent her time in solitude. Perhaps recognizing Elizabeth’s state of mind, Lady Catherine and Anne did not leave her to overthink matters in peace.
“Must we discuss this now?” Aware her tone was plaintive, and perhaps even a little petulant, Elizabeth could not repent it. “Surely it will keep for another time.”
Lady Catherine regarded Elizabeth for a moment as if considering her. “Actually, Elizabeth, I think now would be a good time to speak of it. If we do not, I suspect you will spend your day fretting over what Darcy is doing. Since we do not expect him to return before the morrow at the earliest, it would be best to have some occupation.”
“Perhaps you are correct,” said Elizabeth. “But this constant barrage of names, positions, and connections to the Darcy family is dreadfully dull, and it is something I shall forget the moment I turn my attention away from it.”
“This is important, Elizabeth,” said Lady Catherine, her manner pitiless. “You can offend Darcy’s connections if you do not know them.”
“That is the point,” said Elizabeth. “I do not know them at present. I would much better learn them if I could put a face to a name, title, income, shoe size, and whatever other information you think it necessary for me to know.”
Anne giggled at Elizabeth’s irreverent statement, but Lady Catherine was not amused. “Then perhaps it would be better if I called a music master to Rosings, so you can improve your playing. Before long, you must begin to entertain guests you invite to my nephew’s home. I would not have you embarrass him.”
Elizabeth threw her hands up in exasperation. “Do you think I will embarrass him? If so, I wonder why you supported his pursuit of me!”
“Gently, Mother,” interjected Anne, seeing Elizabeth’s state. “It will do no good to push Elizabeth to wash her hands of us forever.”
Though Lady Catherine’s disagreement was obvious, the lady relented. “Perhaps you are correct. If I have pushed you too far, I apologize, Elizabeth. I wish you would understand how important this is.”
“I do understand,” replied Elizabeth. “But I will learn better when I meet these people. Having some information about them in advance will not go amiss, but I do not wish to spend every waking moment on the subject memorizing everything about people I have never met.”
“Then perhaps we should discuss your presentation to the queen?”
Elizabeth groaned. Lady Catherine had taken it into her head that she would sponsor Elizabeth in her presentation, and though she knew it was essential for the future Mrs. Darcy to be so presented, it was a dusty topic. How Her Majesty had determined such ridiculous rules for dress, etiquette, how low to the exact inch one must curtsey, how one must never turn her back on her majesty, Elizabeth could not understand. It all seemed like so much ridiculous nonsense to her.
“I believe, Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth, “that I understand what I must do at my presentation. There is little need to continue to beat me over the head on the subject.”
Though Lady Catherine peered at Elizabeth with evident displeasure, soon her façade cracked, and she released a hearty laugh, in which her daughter joined her. Elizabeth watched as they chortled at her expense, wondering if she could escape her ladyship by walking to London. It could not be as bad as this indignity!
“It has never been as clear to me as it is now that you are just what the stodgy old cats in London need to shake them up.” Lady Catherine shook her head. “I can scarcely wait to see it, Elizabeth, for they have had it coming to them for some time.”
“If you are suggesting I do not know how to behave, then perhaps it is better if I return to Longbourn.” Elizabeth was feeling quite ill-used at the moment.
“Not at all, my dear,” said Lady Catherine. “But your refreshing tendency to speak your mind reminds me of myself when I was a young girl. I, however, hailed from a prominent family. An unknown slip of a girl like you in London will be like setting the cats among the pigeons. You will be a sensation I am absolutely certain.”
Though only a little mollified, Elizabeth nodded. “Then you must confess that there is little need to further speak on such subjects.”
“And she is quick to make her case,” observed Anne.
“That she is,” said Lady Catherine. “Then let us break. It is almost luncheon, regardless, and I suspect this talk of relations and shoe sizes, as she states, has rendered us all hungry. After luncheon, perhaps you would prefer to occupy yourselves in the music room while I attend to some correspondence?”
Anne, who had enjoyed their impromptu music lessons, looked to Elizabeth, eagerness in her posture. Elizabeth laughed and assured her she would be happy to sit at the pianoforte with her friend, and they rose to depart the room.
Though she did not know if it was because of the casual display of wealth wherever she looked, Elizabeth had often wondered if she would ever fit in with these people. Longbourn was, after all, a humble abode, though the Bennets were members of a privileged class, far more fortunate than most. Then she remembered how these people had accepted her, how they had made her part of their lives without hesitation, and she knew she would have no trouble. Even the fineness of her surroundings rarely drew her eye any longer. It was just the circumstances in which she lived, circumstances that would be replicated when she went to Pemberley with Mr. Darcy.
Of the two ladies with whom she now spent her days, Elizabeth had nothing to say but praise. Lady Catherine, it was true, could be a little difficult to bear, as this “training” she had in mind for Elizabeth proved. Regardless of her unfortunate desire to be of use, Lady Catherine was a caring woman who put her family’s interests over everything else. Elizabeth thought she would have been just as happy to be at her uncle’s house with Jane, but this opportunity to know the de Bourgh ladies better was invaluable. Elizabeth could only hope Mr. Darcy’s other relations relented in time.
When they sat down to luncheon and Lady Catherine gave the housekeeper the signal to serve them, the butler also entered and approached Lady Catherine, a stack of letters held in his hand. “The post has arrived, Lady Catherine.”
Thanking him, the lady set the stack down beside her plate and waited for the servants to begin serving. At first, she left her correspondence there, the clinks of forks against plates accompanied by soft conversation between the diners, nothing of consequence, but reminding Elizabeth very much of meals at Longbourn. Then when their immediate hunger had been assuaged, Lady Catherine took up her correspondence.
The first inkling Elizabeth had that anything was wrong was the frown which came over her ladyship’s face. While that was not in itself significant, for her ladyship had often found herself annoyed by some letter or another—many of them sent by her brother, who kept insisting she send Elizabeth home—this was different in that she lifted the letter and began peering at it as if to divine its secrets.
“What is it, Mother?” asked Anne, taking notice of her mother’s behavior.
“A letter for Elizabeth,” said Lady Catherine at length after she had examined the letter for a time. “But I cannot determine who sent it for there is no return address.”
Lady Catherine fixed Elizabeth with a questioning look, offering her the missive. “Do you know who sent this letter?”
Elizabeth gazed at it, noting what the lady had seen. “Not at all,” replied she, feeling mystified herself.
Elizabeth Bennet
Rosings Park, Kent
As there was nothing else on the paper, Elizabeth found her frown matching Lady Catherine’s. “If this is the only direction the sender felt compelled to write, it is a wonder it arrived at all.”
“Rosings is well enough known in these parts for the letter to arrive successfully,” said Lady Catherine. “What does it say?”
Feeling curious herself, Elizabeth broke the seal and opened the paper. On it was only two short paragraphs.
Fitzwilliam Darcy is a bounder and a lecher, and his family is no better. If you marry him, you will regret it. Leave Rosings at once, flee from there, for you do not know what you are about.
Should you persist with this madness, know you will make many unhappy. You have been warned.
Shocked as she was, Elizabeth could not force her lips to form any words, for never had she expected to receive such a letter.
“Elizabeth, what is the matter?”
Pulled from her astonishment, Elizabeth looked at the lady who was regarding her with concern, before she shook her head to regain her senses. Then she read the letter out loud to an increasingly astonished pair of de Bourgh ladies. Astonishment, however, was relative, for soon fury overtook the lady’s countenance.
“Who would dare?” demanded Lady Catherine. “This must be the work of a lunatic, for no rational person would send such drivel. Can you make out the hand?”
“No, I have never seen it before. It is not from any of those with whom I usually correspond.”
Lady Catherine, though still incensed, suddenly appeared shocked, as if struck by a sudden memory. With an imperious gesture, she demanded the return of the letter.
“Let me see it, Elizabeth.”
For several moments, Lady Catherine examined the paper, though Elizabeth could not determine what she was trying to discover. There appeared to be nothing unusual about it, other than how it had appeared without warning and from no one Elizabeth thought she knew.
Then Lady Catherine dropped the letter on the table as if she wished to fling it into the fire. “I am certain I have seen this hand before. If I am not mistaken, I believe it matches the handwriting of the letter I received in September, informing me of Darcy’s interest in you.” Lady Catherine turned to her daughter and offered the page to her. “What do you think, Anne?”
“If you recall, Mother,” said Anne, unable to hide her grin, “you threw that letter in the fire before I had an opportunity to examine it.”
Though Anne’s quip tickled Elizabeth’s fancy as diverting, she was feeling little humor at the moment. Lady Catherine replied with an imperious nod, not even having the grace to feel abashed.
“I am certain it is,” averred the lady. “Though it has been several months, and I have only seen it once, I remember marking the shape of the E, and the flourish with which the author writes ‘Rosings Park, Kent.’ The shape of the K, in particular, informs me the author of this letter and that are one and the same.”
“Are you certain, Mother?” asked Anne.
Lady Catherine opened her mouth, likely to deliver some retort proclaiming her infallibility when she paused and considered the matter for a moment longer. “As certain as I can be, Anne. It was nigh on to six months ago. But I believe it to be so.”
“Then how are they connected?” asked Anne.
“I do not know,” said Lady Catherine.
Then Elizabeth noticed something strange. “Lady Catherine, this was posted from Meryton.”
Shock etched on the faces of both her companions. “Are you certain?” asked Lady Catherine, turning the paper over so she could see it properly.
“Quite certain,” said Elizabeth. “The postmark is here, and you can see that it was stamped in Meryton. Trust me, I have seen that symbol many times and have several letters in my room from my family that will show the same thing.”
“I am lost,” said Anne. “How could the letter have originated from Meryton? Would someone there wish to break you and Darcy apart?”
“Given what I experienced there, I cannot rule anything out. Perhaps this is from Miss Bingley.”
“Miss Bingley was in London for months, and only recently departed for the north.”
Elizabeth turned to Lady Catherine and shrugged. “Could they have passed through Meryton long enough for Miss Bingley to have sent this letter?”
“The Great North Road does not go through Meryton, as you know,” said Lady Catherine. “Mr. Hurst would have had to go out of his way to pass through Meryton. I hardly think that is likely. The greater question is, did the letter I received in September originate from the same location?”
“Do you recall, Mother?” asked Anne.
Lady Catherine frowned in thought for a few moments before shaking her head. “I cannot remember.”
“It seems unlikely,” said Elizabeth. “No one in Meryton knew about Mr. Darcy calling on me, not even my own family!”
“Then it seems we have a conundrum,” said Lady Catherine. “We have two letters which, based on my memory, the same person wrote, one originating from Meryton, and yet we can think of no one who might have reason to send such a letter.
“One thing of which I can inform you.” Lady Catherine’s jaw was set; Elizabeth did not think she had ever seen her ladyship as angry as she was now, not even when she had confronted Elizabeth in the Gardiners’ sitting-room. “I do not take kindly to those who threaten my family, and this is no less than a warning.”
Gratified though she was at the lady’s blatant declaration of Elizabeth's position as a member of her family, her mind would not allow her to leave the mystery. Try though she might, she could not imagine who would threaten her in such a manner. It was, as Lady Catherine said, a true enigma.
“Perhaps Darcy can shed more light on this,” said Lady Catherine. “Whatever the case, I shall not allow this travesty to go unpunished. If I have to involve my brother, who will take as dim a view of this as I do, I shall see whoever is responsible punished.”
“I hope William returns soon,” said Elizabeth.
Lady Catherine turned a kindly glance on her. “I am certain he will. Until then, I believe all sojourns from the house without the presence of a footman to protect you must cease. Even when visiting the gardens, you must not be alone.”
It was on Elizabeth’s mind to protest, but Lady Catherine saw her recalcitrance and moved to cut her off. “I apologize, Elizabeth, but I believe I must insist. You may say that the danger is in Hertfordshire, but we do not know that. Whoever is interfering may be in a position to travel, and I would not have you unprotected. I gave my solemn promise to your father, and I mean to fulfill it.”
“Very well,” said Elizabeth, though still reluctant. “I suppose it is a small sacrifice to make.”
“Thank you, my dear. Be assured we shall discover who is behind this. When we do, we shall exercise the fullness of our wrath.”
Elizabeth believed Lady Catherine. The lady had proven she meant what she said in no uncertain terms.
The Red Lion Inn in Meryton was not an impressive building, certainly not what its grandiose name might suggest. It was rather small for an inn, not a sprawling complex like some of those that catered to the gentleman class traveling between their estates and London. The tavern situated in the front section of the inn, however, was adequate, and Darcy knew members of the militia and laborers of the surrounding estates frequented it, all eager to drown in their sorrows or commiserate with their fellows.
It was not surprising, therefore, that Darcy noted the proprietor was the man who had claimed Wickham owed him ten pounds. Taprooms and Wickham were fond acquaintances, for more than once Darcy had carried his former friend from establishments in Cambridge during their school years. From what Darcy knew of Wickham, that vice had only become more ingrained in him since.
When they were seated, Mr. Bennet signaled to the innkeeper, who brought them frothy mugs of ale and departed, though not before giving Mr. Bennet a significant look. Mr. Bennet shook his head and grasped his mug, his thoughts likely a match for Darcy’s; prudence was a valuable trait, as was accepting responsibility for one’s errors. Whether this man would learn anything from his experience of being defrauded by Wickham was an open question.
“If it is all the same to you, I should prefer to simplify our address to each other,” said Mr. Bennet after he sipped his ale and winced a little. Darcy, who recalled Elizabeth informing him once that his father preferred his port wine and an occasional glass of brandy, did not relish the bitter liquid himself.
“We will be related,” agreed Darcy. “I have no objection.”
“Excellent. Now, if you do not mind my saying, it seems to me there is something else between you and this Mr. Wickham that you have not told me. Now, I know I have no right to demand an explicit account of your dealings with him, yet I would request it all the same. The little you told me paints a damning picture of him, but I would know exactly what manner of man he is so I may take steps to protect my family.”
Bennet paused and grinned, adding: “I know you promised not to bore me with the details, but I believe a little boredom at present would be preferable to ignorance.”
There were few things Darcy despised so much as talking of Wickham. At the same time, he knew Mr. Bennet’s request was not unreasonable, especially considering Wickham’s actions that morning toward the man’s youngest daughter. The matter of Georgiana was one of which he could not speak to anyone, trusted or no. But perhaps he could speak around the subject a little, give Bennet the facts without betraying his sister’s involvement.
While Darcy marshaled his thoughts, Bennet sat in silence, sipping his ale, keeping watch on him, and waiting with patience. Darcy also noticed his eyes roving about the room, likely looking for anyone eavesdropping on them. Darcy appreciated the man’s vigilance, for he would not wish others to overhear this conversation.
“As I informed you,” began Darcy at length, “Wickham was the son of my father’s steward.” Darcy paused and frowned. “In fact, Wickham was the one point of contention between us, for my father refused to listen to my testimony of Wickham’s bad conduct.”
“That is unfortunate,” said Mr. Bennet. “It is remarkably short-sighted for a man I expect was an excellent man in all other aspects.”
“He was,” said Darcy with a sigh. “Everything I am today I owe to my father. In a strange twist of fate, much of what Wickham has become is a direct result of my father’s indulgence. It was nothing more than the exuberance of youth, or I was exaggerating. Nothing I said mattered, for he was fond of Wickham and would allow nothing to be said against him, even by Wickham’s own father.
“As you might suspect, Wickham used these facts to influence my father shamelessly.” Darcy paused and released a mirthless laugh. “In the end, however, it profited him nothing, for he could not manipulate my father in the way he most wanted.”
“And how is that?”
“By inducing my father to bestow a gentleman’s income on him.” Darcy looked up at Mr. Bennet, noting the compassion in his eyes. “Wickham is, above all, a man of selfishness, a man of unsated lusts, a man who believes he is owed whatever he wishes in life. He cannot understand the nobility of character, restraint, or caution. He does what he pleases when he pleases, and he feels the key to doing so for the rest of his life is to have an income that will allow his lusts free rein.
“But even Wickham could not misunderstand that my father was a creature of duty, else I am certain he would have urged my father to disinherit me in favor of him. Several comments he made to me over the years of our acquaintance attested to this ambition. Had my father been afflicted with a disease of the mind, I am certain Wickham would have tried everything to convince him to pass Pemberley to him.”
“If he thought for an instant your father would indulge him in that, he was a fool,” said Bennet. “Trust me, Darcy, from a man who did not succeed in fathering a son; every man wishes to pass his property to his own blood. A man in your father’s position would certainly not pass it to the son of his steward if he were sound of mind.”
Darcy nodded. “Wickham’s lust for Pemberley was nothing more than a fantasy, though I believe there was a time when he thought he might gain it through my sister. When he learned my father’s will explicitly left Georgiana in the care of myself and my cousin, and that the estate would devolve to a cousin if my uncle did not approve of her marriage partner, those schemes were put to rest.
“Failing that, Wickham’s next best alternative was to induce my father to leave him a satellite estate. None are near to Pemberley in income, but they would provide Wickham at least a portion of the funds he lusts after. Selling the estate might fund him with several years of debauchery.”
“But your father would not.”
This time Darcy’s laugh was more sardonic than emotionless. “My father, as I have noted, was a creature of duty. A second son would have inherited a property, but not a steward’s son. Though my father was fond of Wickham, I think it was more the fondness one has for a dog, for Wickham made him laugh.”
“That does not speak well to your father’s character.”
“Well do I know it,” replied Darcy. “Wickham’s fury when he learned my father left him nothing more than one thousand pounds and a recommendation to a valuable family living was a sight to behold. That did not stop him from demanding more than he had any right to ask. I paid him three thousand pounds in lieu of the living and instructed him to not contact me again.”
Bennet’s eyes widened. “That is generous. No living is worth that much in ready funds.”
“It is not,” said Darcy. “But I wished to be done with Wickham and hurried through our negotiations. It may not surprise you to learn the settlement was far below his initial demand which was ten thousand pounds.”
“Nothing you say concerning this bounder surprises me, Darcy,” said Bennet. He paused and ventured: “You mentioned debts.”
“More money than a man in his position could repay in several lifetimes,” said Darcy. “Both in Lambton, a little town near my estate, and in Cambridge. He will seduce any woman who catches his fancy, and as I said, they need not be willing. He games and is bad at it, often losing substantial amounts in one sitting, frequents houses of ill repute, and has been known to resort to extortion.
“Besides all these offenses, I have it on credible authority that he attempted to elope with a young woman below marrying age who possessed a substantial dowry. It was only the intervention of her guardian at a fortunate time that the elopement was prevented. The man is known to me and refrained from prosecuting Wickham because he could not take the chance of exposing his ward.”
Bennet eyed him, leading Darcy to wonder if he suspected there was more to the tale. “Then why did Wickham not extort money from that man in exchange for his silence? For that matter, he may have a chance of forcing a marriage if he had made the affair public.”
“Because,” said Darcy, “Wickham knows if he tried it he would not be long for the world. There would be no hole in which he could hide, no place to which he could flee if he breathed even a hint of it. I would assist and throw all my might behind such an endeavor, and as I hold the means of seeing Wickham transported to Botany Bay, if not simply hanged, Wickham remains silent.”
Nodding, Bennet sighed and stared moodily into his glass. “Though I cannot speak to your motivations, it strikes me it would have been better if you had prosecuted this man the moment your father died.”
“That regret is always with me,” agreed Darcy. “My cousin feels the same way, as he informs me whenever he has the chance. When I speak to him of the current situation, he will remind me of it.”
Bennet chuckled. “Very well, Mr. Darcy. I appreciate your candor. Though I know Lizzy will be entering a different world, I dare say you will be an excellent protector. I only hope you will continue to allow me to see my daughter, for a life without my Lizzy would be a hollow existence, indeed.”
“Do not think I would ever dream of keeping her from you, Mr. Bennet,” assured Darcy. “Elizabeth and I have spoken of the potential of purchasing an estate near Meryton, so we may visit more easily.” Darcy paused and grinned. “Just think of how the cats in Meryton would react if I purchased Netherfield.”
Full-throated laughter was Bennet’s response. “I can imagine the recriminations already.”
“Of course,” said Darcy, choosing his words with care, “due to their present behavior, I will not be at liberty to acknowledge your family in town. Not if I wish to keep my status intact.”
“I understand,” said Bennet. “Recent events have given me the impetus to do something regarding that situation; that may be rectified.”
“Then I wish you luck, Mr. Bennet,” said Darcy. “At present, I should return to London, for it is now much later than I expected to leave Meryton.”
Nodding, Bennet rose and offered his hand which Darcy did not hesitate to accept. With a few more words, they parted company. The final point Darcy noted as he rode out of town was that while he received many looks as he departed, few were hostile. Perhaps there was hope in Meryton yet.