LADY MALTON NOW TOOK OVER the remainder of Lizzy’s education. Whether or not this decision was formal, or whether or not she even informed her nephew of the fact was irrelevant. It was a fait accompli , for what Lady Malton decided would happen, happened. Thus, when she informed Darcy that the afternoon lessons must be rearranged according to her schedule, and that the morning lessons were now all but complete, he capitulated without a word of protest.
The countess first ensured that Lizzy was comfortable in her presence. She insisted on being called Lady Malton whilst in public, but assured her young friend that “it is merely to keep up appearances with those I disdain. We shall both know, you and I, and it shall be our little joke.” For their first outing, the countess chose to take Lizzy shopping. They would be seen together, and she could introduce “her young friend newly arrived in London from her country estate,” whilst allowing Lizzy the opportunity to speak briefly with shopkeepers and be overheard by other ladies of the ton , but not needing to engage in serious conversation. Asking the price of a roll of ribbon was well within the young protégée’s area of comfort. An additional, if unexpected, benefit to these excursions was an even more expansive wardrobe for Elizabeth, now decorated fully with bonnets and gloves and hair ornaments and stockings, all purchased by Lady Malton, with a deaf ear to all protestation. All she would say is “Nonsense, my dear. It will look lovely with your eyes.”
Then came the outings for tea. A visit to Gunter’s became a marvellous opportunity to enjoy the sweets and say hello to a wave of elegant women who had to be seen talking to the countess, even for only a moment. A visit to Clarendon’s for a fine French meal was next. The ladies were accompanied by Darcy, Richard, Freddy, and even the earl himself, an occasion which only a few days before would have sent Lizzy into fits of terror, but which she now managed with some steadiness of spirit. The earl, Lord Malton, was less openly friendly than were his sons, but he was also the sort to brook no nonsense and his forthright and calm manner reassured his young guest immensely. His very presence amongst the party dining out was a sure sign of his approval, and Lizzy took some confidence in that fact. The countess had drilled her relentlessly on proper city manners whilst dining—these were not so different from what she had learned at Longbourn, varying only in some subtle details—and she felt equal to the task, smiling quietly at her ladyship’s constant reassuring nods.
This outing—deemed a great success by the countess—was followed by strolls through the parks, visits to the museums, and evenings at the theatre. At times, Darcy was permitted to join the ladies, and when he did so, he hovered protectively at Lizzy’s side, keeping her hand on his arm when possible, and glowering at any men who dared approach. Freddy, too, often begged to join the party, and the ensuing battle of glares between the two men would have been amusing to anyone not intimately caught up in their rivalry. Through all of this, Lizzy’s confidence and poise blossomed, and the countess announced after a time that she believed Miss Bennet more than up to any occasion.
Lizzy and her companions were sitting comfortably around the low table in Lady Malton’s private salon one afternoon after a chilly stroll through the park, when Darcy announced, “I believe, Eliza, it is time to set the next stage of our plan into effect.” He smiled at her and sent a quick sharp stare towards Freddy.
“Our engagement?” This was a surprise! The words reverberated through her head for a minute as she had almost forgotten the purpose of the entire scheme. “So soon, professor? Had we not discussed waiting a while longer? I thought we were to wait until Easter before making the announcement.”
Moving next to her on the sofa, he turned his warm gaze to her, “You have progressed so far, learned so much, that I see no need to wait further. I shall send the announcement to The Times in the morning…” He stopped himself, then turned to Lizzy and bowed his head. “No. I shall do no such thing until I have discussed it with you, Miss Bennet. This involves you as intimately as it involves me, and I have learned not to assume you will agree to my every whim. Do you wish to consider the change in plans before I take action? I will accede to your wish on this.”
“Who is this man” Richard joked from his seat by the fire, “who looks so much like my cousin, but who acts like a gentleman? Surely it can’t be Fitz!” He rocked back in the elaborately carved chair, only to be scolded by his mother.
At the same time, Freddy objected, “Are you sure about this, Darcy?” His brows came low over his eyes and he fussed at the lace-edged handkerchief he held in his hands, twisting it to this side and that. “Miss Bennet? I would hate to see you take this step unnecessarily. It seems that Miss Bennet is well accepted in Town already, without this connection…” There was an anguish in his eye that tore at Lizzy’s heart, and for a moment, she wished to comfort him. He had been attentive to her, doting even, and his flirtations were obvious and flattering, but he had done little to truly engage her heart. His interest in her seemed as much to bolster his own appearance as hers; he would send a messenger to the house to inquire on the colour of Miss Bennet’s frock for the day, and would then appear in a matching waistcoat, or he would parade her around the park with an eye to catching the attention of those he knew, who might wonder at this remarkable young woman on his arm. She was happy to humour these vices, for he was good company and most pleasant to converse with, and she liked him a great deal. That he liked her was evident as well, but she detected no genuine attachment of the heart.
She also wondered, despite his obvious infatuation with her, if what he felt was anything but transitory, the whim of the moment. She knew that Freddy was quite aware of the counterfeit nature of the engagement; if he truly cared, and if his emotions were more than a passing fancy, he would not give up hope. She glanced at him to offer reassurance, but he had turned away towards the mantelpiece and was examining a collection of porcelain figurines.
Darcy, on the other hand, levelled his eyes at her and held her gaze with his own. His was a look of confidence, perhaps of victory. But he, too, must know that this engagement would not be real. He had been increasingly kind and solicitous towards her of late, and she had wondered, more and more, whether there was some real affection growing in his soul. Even now, this quick reversal of his accustomed habit of making decisions on the parts of others demonstrated the existence of a part of him she would not have imagined some months ago. The look of confidence in his eye wavered as she regarded him and became, instead, a look of supplication. “Please…” his expression seemed to beg. “Please…”
Lizzy let her eyes rove back and forth between the two men—her professor and her new friend—and spoke, her voice little more than a whisper. “Freddy, your concern touches me, deeply. However, as you are aware, this scheme is as much to keep Professor Darcy from the sights of the matchmakers as it is for my own benefit. I entered into the plan knowing what it would entail, and I am prepared to meet my obligations. And thank you, Professor Darcy, for considering my feelings on the matter. You are learning as much as am I.”
She rose and walked towards the window, where her eyes drifted down to the street below and across the park. The expanse of open space, adorned with a careful latticework of pathways and shrubbery, was a balm to her soul, and her eyes drank deeply of it. She allowed the peace of the scene before her to fill her with a certainty that had not been there a moment before and then, turning back to the others in the room, said, “Yes, I am in accord. You may send out the announcement, Professor.”
Darcy looked triumphant; Freddy spun around and looked stunned. Lady Malton and Richard looked on in bemusement. “Well,” Richard offered at last, “how are we to commemorate this? I know not whether to celebrate an engagement with champagne or to seal a business arrangement with a handshake.”
“Perhaps both, dear,” his mother replied. “Call for tea and cakes, there’s a good son, and let us begin planning a ball to mark the occasion.”
And so it was done. Lizzy was engaged. Not to be married, perhaps, but engaged nonetheless. What she had always imagined would be a momentous occasion, complete with declarations of undying love and promises for the future, was concluded instead with the cool efficiency of an amicable trade negotiation. Was this how her uncle felt upon successfully completing a purchase of a shipment of fine fabric? The certainty that had been present only moments before now deserted her, and Lizzy was left with an empty space at the core of her being, and a dread at what she had just done.
The men were talking amongst themselves over whether or not a ball was necessary, and whether Richard should call for some port. Only the countess seemed to notice Lizzy’s distress, and came to her where she stood by the window.
“You are uncertain about this?” The older lady placed a soft hand on Lizzy’s shoulder and spoke with the warmth and compassion of a caring friend. “It is not too late to change your mind.”
Lizzy shook her head. “No. I am certain. I merely feel…” she paused, not knowing what word could possibly encapsulate the hundreds of emotions roiling through her breast.
“Bereft?” the countess supplied. “You wished to be loved, and you are merely appreciated for what you can bring to an arrangement.”
Tears welled in Lizzy’s eyes, and she let them fall slowly down her face as she stared back outside for a long time. The peaceful scene had become stark and cold, and she wanted, suddenly, to wrap herself up in a blanket and hide from the world. She felt the countess’ presence at her back shift, and then something else, as two warm arms wrapped around her from behind. A shuffling sound suggested that someone was moving, and when she turned her head, she noticed the countess ushering the others out of the room, whilst only Professor Darcy, who possessed the arms currently holding her so warmly, remained.
“Come, talk to me Eliza. We should be celebrating, not crying.” Was that tenderness in his voice? It was a new note, and it edged its way into her heart, and before she knew herself, she had turned around in his arms and was weeping into the fabric of his fine coat, her head held securely against his chest. Gentle hands rubbed up and down her back and tentatively caressed the back of her head, fingers tangling in her elaborate hairstyle.
“It was not supposed to be like this,” that new voice, so familiar yet so strange, sounded. “I had thought to ask you properly, even if this is only an arrangement. I had thought, perhaps—” He stopped abruptly and stiffened. Then, with a breath, and allowing himself to relax slightly, he continued, “I had even thought, perhaps, to ask you to consider… after a time, of course, during which we would come to know each other better… perhaps not to throw me over after our arrangement is complete. We seem to rub along well together, Eliza. Your presence does not adversely affect my life.”
From within the despair that had overwhelmed her from nowhere, a thread of amusement formed. Through the tears, she choked out, “Is that a declaration, Professor Darcy? You ought not to take up a new career as a romantic poet.”
“Are you smiling, my Eliza? I do so want you to smile. And… think on it. Do not answer me now, but think on it.” His lips carefully touched the top of her head. “I do not speak with the tongue of the poets, although I pronounce their rhymes better than they do, but I do care for you, my dear. No, no, don’t respond. Just know that.”
The tears had not stopped, but they were lighter now. Her voice thick, she replied, “Thank you, Professor. I shall do so.”
Now he stood back, keeping his hands on her shoulders, his arms straight. “You should not call me that anymore, now that we are engaged.”
“I can hardly call you Darcy!” she protested.
“Would you call me Fitz? As Richard does when he is most particularly vexed with me? I suspect you will often be vexed with me, and it will suit well.”
Her laughter was freer when she replied, “Yes… Fitz. This shall take some getting used to, but I can manage, I believe.”
His smile, when it came, was blinding in its brightness, his face glowingly handsome. “I would like, very much, to kiss you. But I shan’t unless you allow me. Will you, Eliza? Will you allow me?”
She nodded, dazed at the question, and his head inclined slowly towards her. Then she felt the touch of his lips upon hers, feather-light; she was hardly aware of his caress before he withdrew. His eyes were closed, as if he were sealing the sensation into his memory for eternity. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Before any announcement was sent, before the ball was to be planned, Lizzy wished to inform her sister Jane. She had visited Jane and Bingley once or twice over the winter months, but the couple had opted to remove themselves from London at the end of January, and had spent much of their time at Bingley’s brother-in-law’s small estate in Oxfordshire, the place being abandoned by its owner all winter. Jane had written that while London was lovely, it was too difficult to remain out of the public eye, and that she preferred to spend her first few months as a married woman in the quiet and privacy of the country.
Now the Bingleys had returned for Mary’s wedding, which was rapidly approaching, and Lizzy longed to see them. A message was sent and a response received, and the next morning, Lizzy stood at the front door to Bingley’s London residence. His sister Caroline had been evicted from the house, leaving Jane the undisputed mistress of the modest but elegant residence.
She had scarcely stepped foot inside when Jane rushed out of the drawing room, crying, “Lizzy!”
“Oh, Jane!” The sisters embraced fiercely, beyond happy to be once more in each other’s presence. “Oh, dear Jane! Look at you! You look so well, so content,” Lizzy cried. “Are you happy, dearest? Is Charles treating you well?”
“I could not be happier,” Jane replied. “Charles is the best of men. We are both so very, very happy! Come now; he is waiting to greet you.” Taking her sister by the hand, Jane dragged Lizzy into the drawing room at the front of the house. Bright light streamed in through the window, gilding Bingley’s light brown hair in gold as he stood to greet his new sister.
“Elizabeth,” he bowed politely before enfolding her in a brief embrace. Her mind flashed to the embrace she had shared with Fitz the afternoon before and her face flushed. Recalling herself to her situation, she greeted Charles with the warmth due a new brother and commented on how lovely Jane looked. “You are good for her, for her beauty is even more now than before.”
They took tea, talking about the weather, Oxfordshire, the sad neglect at Hurst’s estate, and who had or had not been seen around Town. “Caroline is recently returned,” Charles said. “She had gone up to our aunt in Scarborough, for Hurst did not want her in the townhouse after Christmas, but I had a note from her just yesterday asking to stay here once again. I had to tell her no. She has money to take apartments and hire a companion; I cannot be her keeper now that I have dear Jane.” He sent a besotted smile across to his bride, and she responded likewise. “Caroline said something about seeing other friends from Meryton in London; do you know what she might mean, Elizabeth?”
“No, not I! I have been quite kept in isolation, between Fitz… I mean, Professor Darcy’s lessons and Lady Malton’s outings.
“And what of those lessons, Lizzy?” Jane asked, curious. “You sound so very much the lady! I should never have known you, just to hear you speak. And your dress, your very manner of walking, are so elegant and refined. Professor Darcy must be very pleased with your success.”
“I feel so very different, Jane, whilst I feel at the same time completely unchanged. It is hard to imagine that I am the same person who left Meryton only a few weeks ago. I had thought myself so worldly and confident and sophisticated before, but now I hardly know myself. I dress like a duchess and I dine with earls, and yet I am, at heart, the girl from the country who fed the pigs in the farmyard and ran through the orchards in John Lucas’ old breeches. But I know I can never go back. That is why I hope, so very desperately, that our scheme is successful.”
“What of the scheme?” Charles asked. “Is Darcy pleased?”
“Very,” Lizzy replied. “In fact, we have decided to announce our engagement earlier than our original intentions. Tomorrow, in fact. Fitz said he will come here shortly to inform you himself. This is something to announce to friends and family before it is read of in the papers.”
Jane scrutinised her sister. “Is this good news, Lizzy? I cannot tell if you are pleased or not.”
“Neither can I Jane. I believe I am happy, but it is all unsettling, all the more so because…” she let her eyes flick to Charles, who was party to the conversation. “Because,” she finished quickly, “it has all been so sudden, not as we had decided at first.”
The chimes from the front door sounded, and the three occupants of the drawing room were quiet until, a few moments later, Professor Darcy was announced. Charles leapt up to greet his friend with a slap on the back and a firm handshake, and Jane curtseyed, welcoming him to her home. Darcy responded more civilly than Lizzy had seen since the first encounter with the Gardiners at Longbourn, before walking over to her and taking her hand, then kissing it while gazing into her eyes. “Eliza, my dear,” he said softly.
“Oh…” whispered Jane, her head bobbing and her brows rising in realisation of something Lizzy could not quite decipher. Bingley looked on confused, until Jane said something into his ear, at which time he stood, eyes wide, mouth agape.
“We are to congratulate you, Professor,” Jane said in her serene way. “Allow me to convey my wishes that matters work themselves out to everyone’s best advantage.” She bestowed upon him one of her sweetest smiles before turning to her husband. “Charles, why not take Professor Darcy to your study for a drink? It is, I believe, late enough in the day that a celebratory port would not be amiss. I will call down to the kitchen to request a tray. I wish to talk with Lizzy, for I have not seen her in an age! Sisters always need more time together than men will allow without some other occupation.” She kissed his cheek, daring the others to be shocked by her brazen actions.
When the men were gone, Jane turned on her sister. “What has happened, Lizzy? Do not hide it, for I see more than you think.”
In her beautiful new voice, with her beautiful new sounds, Lizzy described her time in London over the past two months, dwelling on Darcy’s behaviour. “He has been acting as if jealous of Freddy—Viscount Eynshill,” she explained at last, “and yesterday, when he told us he wished to announce the engagement early, he was kinder to me than he had ever been before. Afterwards, when we were alone, he even suggested an alteration in our original plans…”
“Tell me, Lizzy. Do not cry, for I am here to share your burden.”
Lizzy fell into her sister’s arms. “Dear, sweet Jane, always there to lift me up when I have fallen! Oh, Jane, he suggested perhaps not ending the engagement…”
“He loves you, Lizzy? I see how he admires you, although I had not thought him able to love anyone but himself!”
Lizzy shook her head. “No, I do not believe he loves me. He cares for me, and he likes me, but he said nothing about loving me. His proposal, such that it was, included telling me that ‘my presence does not adversely affect his life.’ What am I to make of that, Jane?” These last words were choked out, somewhere between a sob and a laugh.
“And what did you tell him? Did you accept?” Jane’s guileless blue eyes were wide with concern.
“I told him nothing. He requested that I not, but that I think on it over the next months. I believe that now, only after we are officially engaged, he wishes to court me. Oh, I am so confused!”
“And what of you, dearest? Do you like him?”
Chewing her bottom lip, Lizzy replied, “That, I do not quite know. I had not thought it, but there have been moments when I have wondered…” After a breath, she laughed off her distress and turned with a full smile to Jane. “I have many months before I need make that fateful choice. In the meantime, I shall be paraded and danced and exhibited around Town like a newly acquired pet from the Orient, and I fully intend to enjoy myself. I shall be on Fitz’s arm, with Freddy loping along behind us should I fall, and I am determined to enjoy every moment.”
“Then enjoy it you must, Lizzy! Only, I pray that you do not get hurt.”
George Wickham stepped out of the shadows at the gates to the park. He had been waiting, as he said he would be in the letter he had sent via its circuitous route to the lady he had been wooing. She would arrive soon; she always had before. She seemed to enjoy these secretive assignations almost as much as she claimed to enjoy Wickham’s company. The smirk on his face betrayed his own thoughts, which dwelt not so much on the lady’s personality, but other aspects of her companionship.
How easy it had been. She had succumbed quickly to his charms, charms which he had applied most thickly for her benefit. Miss Bingley—dear Caroline, as he called her—had been a most willing victim. He thought back to their first meeting at Netherfield those months past, before Bingley married the girl from that other house—what was it? Longsomething? She had batted her eyelashes at his handsome face, and in truth, it was not difficult to respond appropriately, for she was a lovely woman. Lovely in face, at least. Her character, as Wickham had soon discovered, was less lovely, but her character was the least of his concerns.
She had invited him in for tea. A friend of Darcy’s must be made welcome! Although he had played the gentleman and declined that particular offer, he had let her know where she might find him, and find him she had. She had most suddenly taken to walking in exactly the location he exercised his horse in the mornings, and after several meetings, so carefully coincidental, she had invited him to meet with her brother on a day when she knew her brother would be out, thereby leaving her with the arduous responsibility of entertaining the handsome officer alone.
They had talked of meaningless, inconsequential matters for a while, before he subtly began his inquiries into her relationship with the gentleman residing in Bingley’s home. If his plans to destroy his nemesis were to come to fruition, he must be certain of the man’s commitment to the lady. Ruining another man’s love would be amusing, to be sure, but not nearly so satisfying as finally wreaking his revenge on the heir to Pemberley.
“Your family must be most intimate with the Darcys,” he had said innocently to her as he sipped his tea, “for your brother to invite him here for an indefinite visit. How fortunate to be linked with one of his stature.”
“We are most fortunate indeed,” she had simpered. “Charles and Darcy—I call him Fitzwilliam, so do forgive me if I slip—became friendly at university, and our families immediately were linked.” This was fine news to Wickham’s ears, for none of his acquaintance dared call the man by his Christian name. This must signify an attachment.
“I have spent many glorious days at Pemberley,” the lady batted her eyes, “which you must know so well. It is a magnificent estate, and I look forward to many more days amongst its splendours. We hope,” she added conspiratorially, “to make the connection more formal before long.” There was a sly and knowing look in her eye, and Wickham felt emboldened. She did not love the man, of that he was certain, but she dearly wished to be mistress of his estate.
He pressed on, eager to learn more. “Unless he has changed from when last we were together, he is not an easy man to be around. His manners can be quite… abrupt. Is he much improved in your company, Miss Bingley? For only those of us who have known and cared for him from childhood have a true sense of the man inside.”
She gave him a coy smile. “His manner is, it is true, difficult for those unaccustomed to him. Charles puts him in his place, and he is always most attentive to me. I do not fear his curt and uncivil ways.”
Wickham smiled. This would be an easy conquest indeed. Darcy seemed to care for the lady, especially if the rumours of the courtship were true, but she cared only for his wealth. He would have no difficulty wooing and seducing her and then using the scandal to break Darcy’s heart—assuming the man had one. He could even offer to protect the lady’s reputation afterwards… for a price! This would be a revenge Wickham could enjoy most thoroughly.
As he had imagined, Caroline responded perfectly to his machinations. He had dropped further hints as to his whereabouts on specific days, and she had happened to be about. He had discovered her own habits and managed, remarkably, to be where she happened to be. He politely held doors for her and handed her into carriages and over thresholds to shops and tea houses, and when, at last, he had whispered words of affection to her, she had looked him directly in the eye and smiled.
After her brother’s wedding, she had sadly left Meryton. Her stay in London was short, before she had been forced to spend the frigid months of winter with her aunt in Scarborough. But he had her direction; through a young maid he had bribed, he sent notes to Caroline’s own maid, who then delivered and dispatched letters between the two lovers. The affair had grown in intensity despite their separation, and now, at last, Caroline had returned to London, where she had been forced by her brother to take apartments with a companion. The companion, fortunately, was easily evaded through some little mistruth or another, and Wickham had arranged to meet with her here, in the park, whence he would carry her off to his discrete rooms in a less fashionable part of town and complete his seduction. No doubt Caroline still thought to marry Darcy, but her heart would not be broken by his rejection of her. As for Darcy himself, neither lover spoke of him at all. It was enough to know that the man was there in the background, ready to be destroyed by the knowledge of his intended’s betrayal!
His reveries at an end, Wickham waited some time more by the gates, until the carriage he awaited arrived. It stopped, and a footman helped a lady descend from its interior. And there she stood, lovely and elegant in the weak light of the cloudy day, eyes glowing with the anticipation of their tryst. He stepped forward and bowing deeply, intoned, “Miss Bingley.”
She saw him and smiled, then replied, “Mr. Wickham. Shall we walk?” She dismissed her carriage, asking the footman to return at the appointed time, before taking Wickham’s arm. He led her most properly down the main path, then onto a smaller one, and finally, into the deeper wood, where she flung herself at him and kissed him passionately. “George!”
“Caroline,” he responded between kisses. “Come with me, my darling. I have a carriage waiting at the other gate, where no one will see us. Oh, Caro…”