A few days later, Elizabeth was paying a call to Longbourn with the Bingleys when Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived with a man she had hoped to never see again.
As he was introduced around the room, she only nodded when he spoke to her. “Miss Bennet, how lovely to see you again.”
It took all her good manners not to spit in his face. Mr. Wickham had become Lieutenant Wickham and stood before her as guileless as a lamb.
“Mr. Wickham,” was all she could manage with her teeth gritted.
Elizabeth watched as he moved away and joined Mr. Darcy in conversation. She wanted to shout to them all that he was a rake who would only bring ruin wherever he went but instead, she stood and moved toward the parlor door.
Caroline called out to her, but Elizabeth kept going until she was outside Longbourn. Anger burned bright in her heart as she breathed in the cold, winter air.
In a moment, the Bingleys joined her. “Eliza, are you unwell? I gave our regards to the Darcys. I must see you to Netherfield and send for a doctor.”
Bingley laid a hand upon her shoulder. “Truly, Eliza, it is no trouble to send to London for help.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I am fine, I promise. It is only a headache. You know I get them at times. Please stay. I will send the carriage back for you and Charles.”
Caroline would not listen. “Nonsense, I have already said my goodbyes. Let me take you home and see that you are well. I could not sit and make idle chatter knowing you are in pain.”
Bingley seconded his sister. “I am certainly able to find my way home. Go, and I will be home to see that you are well in but an hour’s time.”
Elizabeth boarded the carriage with Bingley’s assistance and sat back on the bench. She placed her forehead against the cool pane of the carriage window and shut her eyes. Thankfully, Caroline did not engage in conversation but only held her hand in commiseration.
As the carriage rolled and bounced toward Netherfield, Elizabeth recalled the trouble Wickham had brought to her family.
He was like family to the Bennets for he had grown up with them as his father was her father’s steward at Pemberley. Wickham had lived in the stewards cottage not a mile from Pemberley. He was trusted, underestimated in his ability to lie and deceive.
Just the past summer, he had followed the family to Ramsgate where they would spend months before returning to London.
Lydia had always been flirtatious and a foolish girl at that. Looking back, Elizabeth felt she ought to have seen the trouble the two of them would make.
It was only the good sense of her sister Mary that had sent Elizabeth and Jane after Wickham and Lydia to disrupt their plans.
Mary had overheard the two plotting their elopement. They were on the balcony unaware that Mary had meant to come there and read. Instead, Elizabeth’s middle sister had stopped when she heard their laughter and saw the two in an embrace, kissing.
Elizabeth and Jane had followed the pair as they left the home in search of a post chaise that would carry them on the first leg of the long journey toward Scotland.
When Wickham left Lydia to hire the conveyance, they had grabbed their little sister and dragged her back home.
Lydia had fought, but Jane and Elizabeth were older and stronger. When they were home again, they locked her in her room with Mary as her jailer and told their mother of Wickham’s betrayal.
When Wickham came the next day, Elizabeth met him at the door and threatened to have him hunted down if he did not leave the Bennets alone. She recalled the last words she had spoken to him. If I tell Papa, he will know the men to set after you.
Caroline shook her shoulder gently and Elizabeth opened her eyes to find they were at Netherfield. The memories of that day in Ramsgate had only made her feel worse.
“Thank you, Caro, for being such a good friend. What would I do without you?”
“Come dear, let us go inside and I will have Cook send up some chamomile tea for you. I have laudanum if you think it might help,” Caroline said as she climbed down from the carriage.
Elizabeth leaned against her friend as they went inside Netherfield. She wished laudanum would help her forget about Wickham.
At Longbourn, Mr. Darcy asked his sister why Miss Bennet and Miss Bingley had left so abruptly. Miss Darcy seemed worried but Mr. Bingley gave an answer. “Eliza’s head sometimes hurts her terribly. My sister will see that she is put to bed with tea. She will soon be well again.”
Mr. Darcy accepted this reply and said he hoped that the lady did not suffer very long. The men sat down to play cards as the young ladies were sent to Mr. Darcy’s study to read.
After two rounds of whist, Mrs. de Bourgh and the young ladies of the house returned to the parlor with Hill who had brought out a freshly baked pie.
Mr. Darcy rose and packed his cards away so that his sister and Anne might sit at the table and dine with Mr. Bingley and the colonel. His aunt never did like gambling and card games and Darcy knew that was her reason for bringing out the pie.
Lieutenant Wickham had gone to stand beside the window that looked out on the side garden and wood beyond. “It is a lovely home you have Mr. Darcy,” he said as his host joined him.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Wickham. It is quite the pleasure to be master of one’s own kingdom. Pray tell, how did a young man such as yourself end up a soldier?” Mr. Darcy asked, curious over his new acquaintance.
“It is a sad and tragic tale, to be sure. I was raised in Derbyshire on a lovely estate where my father was steward. The gentleman who owned it treated me as a son. I suppose with five daughters, he must have felt as though I was like a son,” the lieutenant paused and shook his head.
Mr. Darcy thought of Miss Bennet when the man mentioned five daughters and Derbyshire. She was from such a family. “What could have happened to remove the opportunities such a connection might afford?”
Wickham gave a bitter laugh. “I hate to speak of it to one I hardly know, but Miss Bennet is one of the man’s daughters. Seeing me here today is likely the reason she left so soon. I am sorry to have caused a guest in your home to become uncomfortable. Her father meant for me to have the living at Kympton but she argued him out of his decision. When my own father died, I thought Mr. Bennet might reward me with the stewardship since he had seen to my education and trusted me. But again, Miss Bennet turned her father away from what he might have done.”
Intrigued, Mr. Darcy wished to know more. “Miss Bennet, and her friend Miss Bingley, were known to be proud and rude when they first came to Hertfordshire but now she is different.”
“Oh I daresay she can charm anyone as she pleases, for she is a beautiful lady, but when jealousy or envy enters her heart, she is evil I tell you. Mr. Bennet sent me away because of Miss Bennet’s hatred of me. I believe it was jealousy. Her father favored my opinions over hers many times and she could not stand for that. He brought her up with too much education and reading. Made her think she was as intelligent as any man.”
Lieutenant Wickham turned away from the window after his speech and Mr. Darcy did not know what to say. Miss Bennet could be proud and vain, but to take away a man’s living and reduce him to casting about for his way in the world? It seemed beyond comprehension.
To have a gentleman speak so of a lady did not seem proper either, but his tale was one that would astonish anyone who heard it.
When they rejoined his family by the table, Mr. Darcy considered the lieutenant’s words. He had thought he might love Miss Bennet, but now he wished he had never known she might be so conniving and vengeful.
Sighing, he left his guests and went to his study. The hatbox containing the bonnet Miss Bennet had admired that day in Meryton was still on the top shelf in the corner. Had he been mistaken to purchase it as a gift when he did not know her so very well? Mr. Darcy sat in his chair and stared out the window in deep thought.
In his parlor, Lieutenant Wickham sat with Miss de Bourgh and complimented the young lady much to her mother’s dismay. Mrs. de Bourgh did not think any soldier, not even her nephew Colonel Fitzwilliam, to be a good match for her daughter.
Though Mrs. de Bourgh was widowed, her husband had been of the gentry like Mr. Darcy. It had been gambling debts that had seen his money lost, save for Anne’s dowry. It was the reason she frowned on Darcy playing cards with their friends and neighbors.
Now, as the lieutenant leaned closer to Anne, Mrs. de Bourgh scowled. Mr. Bingley and the colonel were laughing with Georgiana as they played piquet with Mr. Bingley keeping score.
Mr. Darcy had left them all and gone to his study. Completely out of sorts and angry, Catherine de Bourgh snapped at her daughter. “Anne, surely you might be better engaged at the piano forte than laughing at a soldier’s tales. Heaven knows you do not practice enough.”
Anne, not wishing to have Mr. Wickham banished from Longbourn by her imperious mother, stood and made her way to the instrument. Mr. Darcy’s father had purchased it for his wife before either Anne or Darcy had been born.
It was a beautiful instrument, and though her mother said she would be a proficient except for her poor health, Anne played very well. But not as well as her Cousin Georgiana.
The merry tunes she played drew Mr. Darcy back into the parlor and he danced once with his sister before allowing the colonel and Mr. Bingley a turn. Lieutenant Wickham asked Mrs. de Bourgh for a dance but she only waved him away and mumbled some epithet at his retreating form.
Mr. Darcy watched as the young man made his way to Anne where she sat on the bench, her fingers trailing easily over the keys. He sat beside her before long and Anne was laughing and missing notes as the lieutenant teased her.
He liked seeing his cousin happy and healthy. The lieutenant was certainly charming. His tale of Miss Bennet caused Darcy to recall how she had been when they first met in Meryton and how she had seemed to change.
Perhaps her tale of the duke’s proposal in London was not all that it seemed and perhaps Miss Bennet was not all that she seemed either.