I Will Never Recede
Spring, the season of rebirth, of the return of warmth and vitality to the world. It was a time of revival, the promise of better days to come, when fields of bluebells sprouted up from beneath carpets of snow, of trees turning green, waking after their long sleep. It was a time of hope and happiness, a time to consider the beauty and wonders of life, the glory of living among the glories of creation.
Vitality and revival were on Darcy’s mind the morning he made his way back to Kent and the keeper of his heart. The sojourn to London and Hertfordshire had been fruitful, for the unmasking of Wickham had removed a weight from Darcy’s mind. While they had not apprehended the man, with Fitzwilliam bending all his attention to discovering his bolt-hole, Darcy knew it was a matter of time. Making his uncle aware of the engagement, and subsequently, the signing of the marriage articles had finally removed the last of his protests. Darcy was not foolish enough to believe his uncle was happy, but at least he was now resigned to the match.
Unlike the previous times he had returned to Kent, Darcy decided it would be best to stop by the parsonage first—Mr. Collins had since left Hertfordshire for his home—and pay his respects to his host. What he found when he arrived rendered Darcy concerned once again, unwelcome when he had thought he had left all his troubles behind.
“Something has happened at Rosings, Mr. Darcy,” said the parson when they had exchanged greetings. “I am not privy to it, and I apologize that I cannot tell you exactly what has happened. But when I went there yesterday to counsel with your excellent aunt, she would not tell me anything more than that it was due to a letter my cousin received.”
“A letter?” asked Darcy with a frown. “I know of no one who would write her with upsetting news, and everything is well in Hertfordshire. Better than it has been since November.”
Mr. Collins nodded, saying in his usually flowery way: “It is a testament to your diligence, Mr. Darcy, and the unmasking of that scoundrel. Though I cannot say anyone from the neighborhood has acted well, I cannot but rejoice that my cousin’s family has been restored to its previous status.”
Nodding absently, Darcy decided there was little reason to consider the matter; his fiancée would inform him when he went there. “Then if you will excuse me, Mr. Collins, I should go thither at once.”
“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” said the parson with a bow. “I should not dream of keeping you.”
It was a mark of Mr. Collins’s concern for the situation, for he did not carry on in his usually verbose manner, allowing Darcy to go above stairs to change. The walk to Rosings he accomplished in less time than usual, eager as he was to be in Elizabeth’s company again and learn what had happened. No sooner had he reached the sitting-room than Elizabeth raised the subject.
“I received this the day after you departed for Longbourn,” said Elizabeth, pulling a letter from the side table where she had secreted it.
“It would be best if you opened it and read it yourself,” said Lady Catherine, her manner subdued, “for it defies description.”
Confused though Darcy was, he opened the paper and read through the short lines contained therein. For the briefest moment, he struggled to understand what he was reading. Then several things clicked together at once, and Darcy knew what he was holding.
“Wickham!” snarled Darcy, crumpling the offending paper in his fist.
“I believe I recognize that name, Nephew,” said Lady Catherine, observing his sudden rage through dispassionate eyes. “Was he not your father’s protégé?”
“If you can call him that,” spat Darcy. “Long has he been a millstone around my neck. Not only do I recognize the hand that wrote this letter, but I have recently seen the . . .”
Darcy paused, forcing himself to refrain from swearing in the presence of the ladies. Elizabeth, he noted, was watching him through wide eyes, Anne’s expression slightly sardonic. Lady Catherine, however, was wary, as if she suspected him of being a wild animal, rabid and diseased.
“I apologize,” said Darcy, drawing a deep breath to calm himself. “When I journeyed to Longbourn and then returned to London, I did not think I would be long; thus, I neglected to write to inform you all of what I discovered. It appears I erred in that decision. Let us speak and I will tell you all.”
By wordless agreement, they all seated themselves and Darcy informed them of what he learned in Hertfordshire, his discussions with Mr. Bennet and his Cousin Fitzwilliam, and his subsequent meetings with his solicitor and return to Longbourn to sign the marriage settlement with Mr. Bennet. Then, for Elizabeth’s benefit, Darcy explained Wickham’s connection with his family, including some less salacious details of the man’s history. When he had finished, his companions remained in silence for several minutes, considering what he had said.
“Yes, I remember this Mr. Wickham of whom you speak,” said Lady Catherine at length. “I also remember informing your father that he would become a problem if he continued to show him such favor.”
“It is a pity my father did not listen to you or me,” said Darcy. “As a young man his age, Wickham could not hide his proclivities from me; I knew what he was long before my father passed.”
“Then the situation is more serious than you know, for I believe the author of this letter and the one I received informing me of your connection with Elizabeth are the same.”
“They are?” said Darcy. He had not considered the letter that had drawn Lady Catherine to London.
“It has been several months, so I cannot be certain,” said Lady Catherine. “But I believe the hand was the same. And before you ask, I do not know whence he posted the first letter.”
“Then it begins to make sense,” said Darcy. “Somehow Wickham learned of my interest in Elizabeth and sent you a letter designed to bring you to London.”
“But why would he do such a thing?” asked Elizabeth. “What is it to him?”
“Wickham is always going about making trouble for me,” replied Darcy with a shrug. “Why he does it, I do not think even he knows.”
“When he did not obtain what he desired through me,” said Lady Catherine, “he followed you to Meryton to create more trouble.”
“That last is curious,” said Darcy. “When I consider any sort of life to which Wickham might be suited, the regimented life of an officer, even that of the militia, is not one I would think he would endure.”
“I am not certain of that,” said Elizabeth. “From what I have seen, the officers are little inclined to do the work of the regiment and more apt to spend their days flirting with empty-headed young girls in the neighborhood. Given what you have said about Mr. Wickham, I suspect that might appeal to him.”
Darcy nodded in response to her comment but could say nothing, for Lady Catherine interjected with a most surprising comment.
“What shocks me the most about this business is that you allowed this man to escape after the near ruin of your sister.”
When Darcy stared at his aunt uncomprehending, she huffed with annoyance. “There are only two reasons why you would look at me that way. In response to the first, do you suppose Elizabeth cannot be trusted with this information?”
Darcy’s gaze darted to Elizabeth, who appeared as taken aback as he was himself. Catching her eyes, Darcy nodded to inform her he would explain later.
“As for the second,” continued Lady Catherine, “my sister informed me of the matter and asked my opinion about how to assist Georgiana to heal from her experience. Are you surprised she would confide in me?”
“Until recently,” replied Darcy, “I was not aware you were in such close contact with Lady Susan.”
“I am,” averred Lady Catherine. “When your mother was alive, we were all very close. Susan and I have not let that slip since we lost Anne.”
Though still surprised, Darcy returned to the initial conversation. “In answer to your question, we did not pursue Wickham for fear of the damage to Georgiana’s reputation.”
“Do you suppose anyone in society would believe the word of a bounder?” demanded Lady Catherine. “There were no witnesses; why should you fear anything he had to say?”
“Perhaps we should have judged better,” said Darcy. “At the time, I did not want any gossip to stain Georgiana.”
Though it was clear to Darcy that his aunt did not agree, she did not pursue the matter further. It so happened that Darcy had considered this very question many times in the intervening months and with ever more frequency these past several days since seeing Wickham again. Had he all to do over again, he suspected his response might have been different.
“The question is, what do we do?” asked Anne.
“Fitzwilliam is searching for Wickham now,” said Darcy, nodding to his cousin. “You may make the case that we should have done something, and you may be correct. Now, however, there is no more thought of clemency or restraint for my former friend. When we find him, Wickham will not escape justice again.”
“I am happy to hear it,” said Lady Catherine. “Once you apprehend this Mr. Wickham, I suspect the troubles you have endured these past months will be resolved.”
“That is my hope,” said Darcy.
“What of my brother? Has he relented?”
“When I informed him of my proposal and Mr. Bennet’s permission and blessing, there was little he could do. The signing of the marriage articles was the final nail in the coffin of his protests.”
“I suspect he still does not like it,” said Elizabeth.
Darcy gave Elizabeth a tender smile, letting her know that it did not matter to him if his uncle never accepted her. Lady Catherine, however, had a different opinion on the subject.
“My brother will not stew in his anger forever. As I have said before, he may not be affectionate toward you, but he will be civil and kind. In time, he may come to appreciate what you bring to the family.” Lady Catherine gave Elizabeth a wry grin, prompting the same from his love. “As I informed you before, Elizabeth, I believe you will be a sensation in London. My brother will see the irony as I do.”
“I hope so, Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth. “I would not wish to be the means of continuing strife in your family.”
“Let the matter rest, Elizabeth. Leave it to Susan and me, and I do not believe you will be disappointed.”
When Elizabeth had first met Lady Catherine, the thought of becoming a close confidante to the lady was so ludicrous as to be beyond consideration. These past months in the lady’s company had opened her eyes to the good in the lady, her care for those in range of her influence, her interest in being of assistance, her affability and kindness which was sometimes hidden under a meddling, gruff exterior. Elizabeth had come to love her as an elder aunt, much as she loved Anne as a sister.
Hosting Elizabeth herself, however, was a different kettle of fish from enduring her family. Although Elizabeth loved each of them, they could be difficult, especially her mother and youngest sisters. When Lady Catherine proposed to do exactly that, Elizabeth could not have been more surprised and grateful.
“Elizabeth,” greeted Lady Catherine upon finding her a few days after William had returned from London. “I have something I wish to discuss with you.”
Thinking of the events of the past months as she was, Elizabeth turned her attention on the lady, reflecting that under normal circumstances, Lady Catherine would not have found her alone at this time of day. William had been delayed by some business with Mr. Collins with which he had promised to assist; if this had been a normal day, she would have been in his company all afternoon.
“Yes, Lady Catherine?” asked Elizabeth, turning her attention to her hostess.
The lady regarded her, a hint of a smile on her face, and said: “First, I believe this formality between us must cease. As you are to become my nephew’s wife, I would be happy if you would call me Aunt Catherine.”
Elizabeth returned the lady’s grin without hesitation. “I should be happy to do so.”
“Then I should like your opinion on something,” said the lady, returning to the subject she wished to address. “That your family has endured much in Meryton since November has never been far from my thoughts. Do you suppose they would enjoy a little time away from your home?”
The question nonplussed Elizabeth, but she readily replied: “Perhaps they might. My father does not like to travel and will go to great lengths to avoid it. His letters suggest he has not suffered as much from the gossip as my mother and sisters, but I know he was frustrated with several of our neighbors, so he may be amenable to a change of scene.”
Lady Catherine nodded. “That is what I thought. Then, if I were to offer an invitation to Rosings, you think they would accept?”
“An invitation to Rosings?” repeated Elizabeth.
“If it would please you. Were they to accept, it would allow Anne and me to come to know them better, beyond providing them the ability to leave the scene of their troubles for a time. If you think they would appreciate the opportunity, I am of a mind to invite them to come before the end of the month.”
The lady smiled and added: “There is also the matter of your wedding. Though you have not yet decided on a date, I do not believe there is much cause to wait an excessive length of time. If you were to marry by the end of April, there would still be time to go to London and attend a few events before the end of the season.”
Unable to help the laugh that formed in her breast, Elizabeth exclaimed: “You only wish to display me before all those in London you are convinced I will confound.”
“The thought had occurred to me,” replied the lady, a sense of mischief hanging about her. “I should like to begin that lesson at once. However, my primary motivation is what I spoke of concerning your family.”
“Are you certain you can endure them?” asked Elizabeth. “As you know, there are several disparate characters among them. Kitty and Lydia, in particular, can be difficult.”
“I shall not lie to you, Elizabeth,” said Lady Catherine. “Part of my reason for wishing to invite them is to speak to your mother and help explain certain facts concerning proper behavior to her, and the thought of what to do with your sisters has been on my mind as well. Part of this is for your benefit and part for mine. It will be better for you if you can acknowledge your family in London rather than keeping them hidden away, and the gossip will be lessened if your family proves they are worthy.”
Almost overwhelmed by the lady’s thoughtfulness and not affected at all by the truthful words she spoke of some of her family, Elizabeth nodded. “I think they would appreciate the opportunity to leave Meryton for a time. Thank you for your thoughtful offer, Aunt Catherine, for it means the world to me. Might we also invite Jane to join us here? I do wish to see her again.”
“I should be happy to host her,” said Lady Catherine. “If, as I suppose, Mr. Bingley would prefer to remain close to her, he can stay at the parsonage. It would be no more trouble for Mr. Collins than to host my nephew.”
To please his noble patroness, Elizabeth knew Mr. Collins would willingly shoulder the burden of hosting any number of young men Lady Catherine instructed him to invite. In this instance, she knew the lady was correct and nodded her agreement. As the lady let herself from the room, Elizabeth reflected again what good fortune she had to fall in with such excellent people.
The surprise with which the Bennets received the letter of invitation mirrored that which Elizabeth had felt when Lady Catherine applied for her opinion. Mr. Bennet read the letter at the dinner table to his astonished wife and three youngest daughters, eliciting much commentary. Considering what their responses might be when he first read the letter, it gratified Bennet to have predicted them with exactness.
“Lady Catherine wishes to invite us to Kent?” demanded his wife, as the girls looked on with astonishment. “I could never have imagined such civility.”
“Nor could I, Mrs. Bennet.”
“But to go to Kent means we must leave the officers behind!” exclaimed Lydia, again fulfilling Bennet’s every expectation. By her side, he thought Kitty wished to chime in and agree with her sister; of late, however, Kitty had better learned to control her reactions, and she did so with admirable fortitude on this occasion.
“Considering the behavior of those fellows,” said Mr. Bennet, “I believe it will be no hardship to leave them behind for a time.”
“Oh, that is without a doubt!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, who until Wickham’s actions toward Lydia had been the firmest supporter of the officers.
“And the society at Rosings must be far superior to what we have here,” said Mary. “I suspect we will all benefit from it.”
Though Bennet was by at the thought that Lady Catherine could be considered superior society, his current interest was to promote the scheme which he thought an exceptionally good one. Besides, her ladyship had proven herself a friend of his family, and his perception of her had changed to a large degree since he had heard of her through first Elizabeth and then his cousin’s auspices.
“I dare say there are a few reasons we might prefer to be in Kent,” said Mr. Bennet with a nod at his middle daughter. “Though the situation has improved here, we have suffered much these past months. Would it not be beneficial for our peace of mind to depart from Hertfordshire for a time?”
Mrs. Bennet, to whom Bennet had largely addressed his comments, nodded slowly. “Yes, I can see that, Mr. Bennet. As Mary says, the superior company there will be of benefit to us all.”
“But Mama!” This time Lydia’s reply was little less than a wail. “How can we ever leave the officers behind? There are already rumors in Meryton that they shall be gone from Hertfordshire by the summer; what if we return and they have already departed?”
“I dare say we will all bear the deprivation, Lydia,” said Mrs. Bennet, her reply to her daughter containing less warmth Bennet might have expected. Then she returned her attention to Bennet. “If it pleases you, I should be happy to accept her ladyship’s kindness. When shall we go?”
Bennet glanced back down at the letter before responding. “Lady Catherine suggests before the end of the month in time for Easter. She also makes some mention of the possibility of Lizzy marrying in Kent while we are there and suggests that Jane join us.” Bennet looked up at his wife. “Perhaps we might have a double wedding while we are there? Then again, that Bingley fellow seems to be dragging his heels, so it may be for the best that Jane does not marry so soon.”
Though Mrs. Bennet did not seem to like the idea of a wedding in Kent, she paused before speaking, which was itself a departure from her usual behavior. “Perhaps it is best to marry there. I understand if Lizzy wishes to avoid all those who gossiped of her.”
“Yes, I believe that is the reason for her decision. Of course, my cousin would appreciate the opportunity to perform the ceremony.”
“Then it is decided,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I shall make preparations for our departure.”
It was evident there were elements of the family who did not agree, but Mrs. Bennet ignored her youngest daughter in favor of the imagined delights of Rosings Park. For Bennet, one place was the same as the next, for he supposed Rosings had a fine library and he could read his books anywhere. Much as he hated to travel, Bennet thought a little time in Kent would be good for the entire family.
“You are certain it is Wickham?”
“Who else would it be?” Fitzwilliam, who had been pacing in front of the fireplace, stopped in his tracks and threw himself into the other chair in Darcy’s study. “Only Wickham could be so brazen, and no one else knows anything of Miss Elizabeth in London.” Fitzwilliam paused and managed a sly grin. “You were successful in keeping knowledge of her from society last autumn, old man. Though the rumors are spreading like wildfire, much of the speculation is erroneous as to Miss Elizabeth in particular. Some of what I have heard has made me laugh at the ridiculous things they are claiming.”
Darcy nodded, considering the matter before him. Fitzwilliam’s summons to London had been nothing less than a surprise, and the reason for it a shock. Rumors abounding among the newly arrived families attending the season of Darcy and his beloved claimed, among other things, that Darcy had been shamelessly cavorting about the countryside with an unknown woman without respect for any sort of propriety. There was even talk she was his mistress, though certain salacious whispers suggested she was less than that, a woman of the brothels in some instances.
Though Darcy could become angry at those spreading such things in so impudent a manner, in reality, all his disgust was for Wickham. Fitzwilliam was correct—the rumors must come from Wickham. No one else knew anything of Miss Elizabeth. Had Miss Bingley still be in London, he might think she was the source, but she had gone into the north long before the season began. While he might suspect her of writing to some of the reprehensible women with whom she maintained friendships, he did not think she had anything to do with it.
“And you have had no luck in locating him,” said Darcy to his cousin.
“Wherever he has managed to secrete himself,” said Fitzwilliam, disgust brimming in his voice, “he has hidden well. I receive at least two or three sightings of him every week. Thus far, each one has been false.”
“He is at home among these people. It seems they are willing to hide him.”
A moody nod was Fitzwilliam’s only reply. They remained silent for several long minutes, Darcy thinking of his relationship with Elizabeth and what form his response should take, while Fitzwilliam must be considering his failed attempt to locate Wickham and his frustration with the man’s continued success in eluding capture.
“What do you mean to do?” asked Fitzwilliam at length. “You cannot allow these whispers to remain unchallenged, or it will affect Miss Elizabeth’s introduction to society.”
“I shall make the gossips’ words ridiculous,” replied Darcy. “It is something I should have done when I obtained Mr. Bennet’s consent and presented him with the contract.”
“It must be some sort of trick you have up your sleeve,” said Fitzwilliam. “For the rumors are widespread.”
“Watch and learn, Cousin,” replied Darcy, fixing Fitzwilliam with a self-satisfied smirk. “Perhaps the failure of this tactic will provoke Wickham to become careless.”
“If it does, I will be happy to call you a magician, Darcy.” Fitzwilliam laughed. “Let us hope it does, for I have a great desire to have a long-overdue chat with our dear Wicky.”
“And finally,” said Lord Matlock, “I urge you to do whatever it takes to be free of this woman. The threat of her father bringing suit against you can be nothing compared with the utter ruin you face if you proceed with this mad design of yours.”
“This does not address the fact that society will ostracize me as a jilt if I renege on my engagement now,” said Darcy, not at all impressed by his uncle’s renewed demand that he cast Elizabeth to the side. “You know well that a man may not end an engagement for any reason, Uncle. I might wonder why you persist in counseling such drastic action as this.”
“The scandal will hardly touch you,” snapped his lordship. “I suspect you will be lauded for finally coming to your senses. I shall support you; we shall spread word that she was unsuitable and entrapped you into marriage. These rumors may be what you need to extricate yourself at last.”
“Your suggestion suggests that I wish to extricate myself.” Darcy glared at the earl who returned his fury in every measure. “For your information, Uncle, I have already handled the matter. I believe you can expect that the gossip will die down within a few days—a week at most.”
A frown wrinkled his uncle’s forehead. “Handled it? How did you manage that?”
“It was simple, Uncle,” said Darcy, feeling a little smug at his ability to flummox the earl. “I sent a note around to the major papers announcing my engagement to Miss Bennet.”
The earl gaped at him, and then his expression turned thunderous. “In so doing, you may have ruined your chance to remove yourself from this ill-advised engagement!”
Darcy could only chuckle and shake his head. “If I must give you one thing, Uncle, it is your tenacity. As I said before, your assertions presuppose I wish to extricate myself. I have told you many times I have no desire, nor do I have any intention of anything other than marrying her and living happily for the rest of my life.”
“That is in doubt.” The Earl was all salt and vinegar, seeing the last of his machinations come to nothing. “With these rumors, it may be as much as a decade before you can show your face in town again. Do you wish to give up the Darcy position in society for this woman?”
“If I must return to Pemberley, I would do it with no hesitation, for I do not even like most of society. Those I call friends could visit me there, or we could visit them. But I am confident it will come to naught.”
Lord Matlock considered him for a moment, then ventured: “How can you be so certain?”
“Because, Uncle, I have rendered the words of the gossips nothing less than ridiculous. No man would marry his mistress or a painted woman, not a man of a tenth of my wealth and prominence. No one of society, even the ones determined to spread gossip, will consider this report to be anything other than a lie now that I have made my engagement known. In fact, I suspect Elizabeth will become more of an object of interest than the reverse.
“Furthermore, allow me to assure you, Uncle, that I have no doubt Elizabeth will be a sensation in society. Not only is she an excellent woman, but she is intelligent, graceful, good, open, upright, and in possession of every virtue. When we have made our entrance into society, you will see that I am correct. Elizabeth will carry the standard of our families with pride and determination. I cannot wait to see it.”
“I hope you are correct,” said the earl, his shaken head signaling his capitulation. “For I fear the consequences if you are not.”
“I am correct.”
A sigh escaped his uncle’s lips. “Then do you mean to return to Kent?”
“I do,” replied Darcy. “Aunt Catherine has invited Miss Bennet’s family to stay for a time. They are to stay in London with her mother’s family tomorrow night, and then I shall escort them to Kent the following day. Though we have not made the final decision on a wedding date, Lady Catherine suggests marrying in Kent before the end of the month. If you will not attend, I should at least like to have your good wishes.”
“You have them,” was the earl’s gruff reply. “If she is to be my niece, I wish for her success in society.”
It was a lukewarm recommendation at best. It was also better than anything the earl had offered since the debacle at Netherfield.
“Thank you, Uncle. She will be. You will see.”