Elizabeth Bennet's Deception: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary (3 page)

“I had business in Town,” he murmured.

Elizabeth watched Bingley closely as Bingley recalled the events.

“I knew surprise when Caroline and Darcy followed me. I planned to celebrate Christmastide at Netherfield.”

Aunt Gardiner acted innocent, but Elizabeth knew her aunt a master manipulator. Aunt Margaret was one of the few who could dissuade Mrs. Bennet when Elizabeth’s mother claimed a case of nerves.

“It is a shame you did not return, Mr. Bingley. We could have held a longer acquaintance for we spent our Christmastide at Longbourn. Yet, it is neither here nor there, we are acquainted now, and that is what is important. Is it not, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth swallowed her bemusement. Mr. Bingley’s shoulders relaxed, and Elizabeth knew he erred.

“Certainly, Aunt Gardiner.”

“Certainly, indeed. For now we shall have the opportunity to wish Mr. Bingley happy,” her aunt proclaimed.

Mr. Bingley’s confusion returned.

“Wish me happy?”

Elizabeth prayed Mr. Bingley was more astute in his business dealings than he was socially. No wonder the man’s sister so easily influenced him.

“Yes.” Aunt Margaret controlled the conversation. Elizabeth noted the look of pride in her uncle’s eyes: Uncle Gardiner enjoyed his wife’s display of aplomb. “You and Miss Darcy. Only today Elizabeth remarked on how you traveled together, and Miss Bingley told Jane in a note of parting of the match being desired by both families. Naturally, we thought you chose Miss Darcy to wife.”

Mr. Bingley turned red, but not from embarrassment. His features announced that Bingley put all the blocks in order and now knew the truth. Whether the news brought about an end to Jane’s misery, only time would tell. Despite finding him an amiable man, Elizabeth held little confidence in Mr. Bingley’s taking control of his sister’s vituperations.

“Although I think highly of Miss Darcy, there is no understanding between us. She has yet to know her first Season, and as the niece of an earl, as well as having family who can trace their roots to the thirteenth century, Miss Darcy can look far above my station in Society.”

Elizabeth’s aunt patted the back of Mr. Bingley’s hand.

“I am sorry to hear it. Elizabeth says you would make a handsome couple.” Her aunt left the topic behind and turned Mr. Bingley over to her husband, who spoke eloquently upon several of his recent investments, but Mr. Bingley’s expression said the man’s thoughts remained divided.

* * *

“Ah, Charles, you returned at last,” Miss Bingley called upon her brother’s presence in Darcy’s drawing room. “Please tell me your conversation with Eliza Bennet was worth your spending time from dearest Georgiana and your family.”

When Bingley ignored his sister to pour himself a stiff drink, downing it and pouring a second, Darcy motioned Georgiana from the room. From the expression upon his friend’s face, Bingley learned the truth of Miss Bingley’s perfidy.

“Charles!” Caroline did not heed Darcy’s silent warning. “What is amiss?”

“Absolutely nothing!” Bingley declared in cold tones. “Except I acted the role of fool.”

Caroline spoke in a dismissive manner.

“If speaking to Miss Eliza…”

Bingley stormed in his sister’s direction, effectively cutting off her protestation.

“The lady’s name is Miss Elizabeth; you will speak to and of her with respect, or I swear I will tie up your dowry until you are too old to claim a husband.”

“What did I do to deserve such censure?” Caroline wailed. She fished a handkerchief from her sleeve to dab at her still dry eyes.

“Destroyed my chances at happiness,” Bingley growled.

Caroline added a bit of a hiccup to her speech.

“What lies has Miss Eliza…Elizabeth spoken of me?”

Darcy did not wish to place a wedge of distrust between him and Bingley, but it was time for the truth.

“I suspect your brother holds knowledge of our keeping him from Miss Bennet.”

“
Et tu, Brut
e
?” Bingley glared at Darcy.

“Yes, I schemed with Miss Bingley to deceive you. I should never have interfered in your affairs. My actions can only be termed absurd and impertinent, but I was not long in Hertfordshire before I saw, in common with others that you preferred Miss Bennet to any other young woman in the country; but it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I held any apprehension of your developing a serious attachment.”

Bingley’s expression said Darcy’s explanation held little interest, but Darcy needed to free his conscience, so he continued.

“As your friend, I often observed you in love. At the ball, Sir William Lucas spoke of the general expectation among your neighbors of an expected engagement. From that moment, I studied your interactions with Miss Bennet. Your partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I ever noted in your behavior previously.

“I also watched your lady. Her manners and look were open, cheerful, and engaging, but I detected nothing to define her regard. I came to the conclusion Miss Bennet would receive your attentions with pleasure, but she was lacking in sentiment. However, I erred. In Kent, Miss Elizabeth spoke of her sister’s extreme shyness rather than her indifference. Miss Elizabeth swears her sister’s attachment has not abated, and if you choose to act I hold no doubt of your happiness together.” Darcy held Bingley’s gaze with his steady one. “I will not ask for your forgiveness for I do not deserve it.”

Darcy shot a glance to Caroline.

“I am obliged to confess one thing more. I knew Miss Bennet was in London for some three months last winter, and I purposely plotted with your sister to conceal it from you. With that damning information, I will leave you to your family conference.” Darcy stood slowly. “If you should choose to end our relationship, although I will be sorry for the loss, I will understand.” He despised the pain he brought to Bingley’s door, and Darcy was glad to be done with the lies. He despised deception of any kind: His pride and his honor dema
nded he not repeat his actions.

Elizabeth knew a good deal of disappointment in not finding a letter from Jane on their first arrival at Lambton; and this disappointment continued on each of the mornings thereafter; but on the third, her repining knew fulfillment by the receipt of two letters from Jane at once, one marked as “missent” elsewhere.

“Jane wrote the direction remarkably ill.” Elizabeth examined the lost letter.

Her aunt and uncle planned to walk out just as the letters arrived.

“You enjoy your letters, Lizzy,” Aunt Margaret declared. “We shan’t be long.”

Elizabeth thanked her aunt and uncle for their kindness. Once her relations made their exit, Elizabeth sat down beside the small table in the let sitting room to enjoy Jane’s letters. She chose to read the missent one first. It was written five days prior. The beginning contained an account of all their little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded; but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident agitation, gave more important intelligence.

Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I fear alarming you–be assured that we are all well. What I must relate has to do with poor Lydia. An express came from Colonel Forster at twelve last night, just as we all claimed our beds. It informed us that Lydia went off to Scotland with one the colonel’s officers–to own the truth, with Wickham! Imagine our surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! Even so, I am willing to hope the best, and that we misunderstood Mr. Wickham’s character. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step (and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give Lydia nothing. Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How thankful am I that we never let them know what was said against Mr. Wickham; we must forget it ourselves. He and Lydia were off Saturday night about twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, they must have passed within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for Mrs. F., informing her of their intentions. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, for I hardly know what I wrote

Without allowing herself time for consideration and scarcely knowing what she felt, Elizabeth, on finishing the first letter, seized the other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, noted that it was written a day later than the conclusion of the first.

By this time, my dearest sister, you received my hurried letter; I wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest Lizzy, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as a marriage between Mr. Wickham and our poor Lydia would be, we are now anxious to be assured it took place, for there is but too much reason to fear they did not go to Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Brighton the day before, not many hours after the express. Though Lydia’s short letter to Mrs. F. gave them to understand that she and Mr. Wickham were going to Gretna Green, Denny led the colonel to believe that W. never intended to go there or to marry Lydia at all. Colonel F. took the news as an alarm and set off from B. intending to trace their route. He did trace them to Clapham, but no farther, for on entering that place they removed into a hackney coach and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsom. All that is known after this is they were seen to continue the London road. I know not what to think. After making every possible enquiry on that side of London, Colonel F. came on into Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing them at the turnpikes and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but without any success. No such people were seen to pass through. With the kindest concern the colonel came on to Longbourn and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for him and Mrs. F., but no one can throw any blame on them. Our distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My father and mother believe the worst, but I cannot think so ill of Mr. Wickham. Many circumstances might make it more eligible for them to marry privately in Town than to pursue their first plan; and even if “he” could form such a design against a young woman of Lydia’s connections, which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to everything? Impossible. I grieve to find, however, that Colonel F. is not disposed to depend upon their marriage; he shook his head when I expressed my hopes and said he feared W. was not a man to be trusted. My poor mother is really ill and keeps to her room. Could she exert herself, it would be better, but this is not to be expected; and as to father, I never in my life saw him so affected. Poor Kitty knows father’s anger for having concealed the attachment between Lydia and Wickham, but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot but wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, you were spared something of these distressing scenes, but now, as the first shock is over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not so selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu.

I take up my pen again to do what I just told you I would not, but circumstances are such that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to come here as soon as possible. I know my dear uncle and aunt so well I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something more to ask of the former. My father is going to London with Colonel Foster to try to discover Lydia. What he means to do, I am certain I know not, but his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any measure in the best and safest manner. Unfortunately, Colonel Forster is obliged to be at Brighton again tomorrow evening. In such an exigence, my uncle’s advice and assistance would be every thing in the world; he will immediately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness.

Elizabeth rushed to the cord to beckon her uncle’s servant. Within minutes the man appeared.

“Please summon your master’s return to the inn. It is a matter of urgency.”

With the servant’s exit, Elizabeth sank heavily in a chair.

“Ah, Lydia,” she groaned. “How could you be so foolish? You subjected your family to ostracism.”

Unable to wallow in her despair, Elizabeth was up and packing her things when her aunt and uncle returned.

“What is amiss?” Her aunt took the day gown from Elizabeth’s trembling fingers. “What brought you such distress?”

Elizabeth gave herself up to the tears she denied earlier. Snuggling into her aunt’s comforting embrace she gestured to the table where Jane’s letters rested. Hiding her face in her aunt’s shoulder, Elizabeth did not see her uncle take the offending missives into his grasp, but she knew when Uncle Gardiner came to the part announcing Lydia’s folly.

“I will kill the dastard with my bare hands,” he growled.

“We will go to London?” Elizabeth managed to ask. “My father has no means to understand Town rules of engagement.”

Her uncle looked up from where he continued to read.

“A coach is too slow. I will let a horse. You and Margaret may follow in the carriage. Mr. Bennet will have the good sense to call in at Gracechurch Street.” He squeezed Elizabeth’s shoulder. “All will be well. I will see to it.” He handed the letters to his wife. “Assist me by packing a small bag. I must see to a mount.”

“Should we not?” Elizabeth began but her aunt shook her head in warning.

Within a half hour, her uncle kissed his wife farewell, as well as placing a promise kiss on Elizabeth’s forehead.

“I suppose we should finish packing our things. We could still cover part of the distance to London today,” her Aunt Margaret said with lackluster.

Elizabeth watched, as the figure of her uncle grew smaller with this leaving.

“How will any of us find Lydia? None of us know anything of Mr. Wickham’s friends or his haunts.” Her words brought the glimmer of an idea as Elizabeth paused to permit the possibility root.

“Are you well?” her aunt asked in concern.

“Yes.” A smile of satisfaction tugged at Elizabeth’s lips. She turned to join her aunt, and with each step, her resolve grew equally as strong. “I may know a source who would assist us.”

* * *

“Elizabeth, neither your uncle or your father would approve of your involving another,” her aunt whispered as the door opened to reveal a familiar countenance.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner to speak to Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth announced to the stone-faced butler.

“Was the master expecting you, Miss?”

“No,” she said baldly. “Just tell Mr. Darcy we are here. If he chooses to send us away, I will understand.”

The butler opened the door wider, and Elizabeth stepped into the grand hall o
f
hi
s
estate for a second time.

“Wait here, Miss.”

When the servant walked away, her aunt whispered, “This is a mistake.”

Elizabeth had not completely thought through how she would explain everything to Mr. Darcy, but she knew in her heart he was her family’s only hope.

She looked up when she heard Mr. Bingley’s voice.

“Miss Elizabeth? What is amiss?” The gentleman rushed down the steps to greet her. “You appear quite pale.”

Elizabeth grimaced. Mr. Bingley was one facet of the equation she had not considered in her plan.

“I…I…” she stammered.

Before Elizabeth could form a response, as if from thin air, Mr. Darcy appeared upon the landing.

“Miss Elizabeth and her aunt are here at my request, Bingley. Perhaps you would be so kind to escort them to my study.”

Mr. Bingley nodded curtly, but Elizabeth heard the strain in Mr. Darcy’s voice.

“Perhaps this is not the best time,” Elizabeth offered. “Mrs. Gardiner and I can wait for a more opportune time.”

Bingley glared at Darcy.

“Do not permit my presence from keeping you from your business with Mr. Darcy,” Bingley said  through tight lips.

Elizabeth shot a glance to her aunt, who nodded her head in silent agreement.

“You should hear what I must say to Mr. Darcy. Please join us.”

Mr. Darcy’s expression flared with annoyance, but he quickly recaptured his mask of indifference. Turning on his heels, he strode off to the left. Bingley extended his arm in Mrs. Gardiner’s direction, and Elizabeth followed her aunt and the man her eldest sister loved. The room spoke of masculinity: dark mahogany floor, covered by a Turkish rug, a bank of windows with drapes the color of blood, an ebony desk, free of clutter, as well as books lining the shelves. Elizabeth’s heart sighed with the thought of Mr. Darcy spending time in the room.

Mr. Darcy stood before the desk, appearing as formidable as ever. A scowl marked his lips, but a familiar look of what Elizabeth now interpreted as fondness rested upon her. She would give anything to turn back the clock, but once Mr. Darcy learned of Lydia’s elopement, any regard he held for her would dissipate.

Once Bingley comfortably seated her and her aunt, Elizabeth spoke.

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with us, Mr. Darcy.”

“Mr. Nathan indicated you appeared agitated. How may I be of assistance?” His words were clipped and laced with apprehension. Judging from his expression, Mr. Darcy was not happy to see her again. 

Elizabeth cleared her throat. Her eyes fixed wide upon his features.

“I hoped you might tell us where Mr. Wickham could be found. I…I mea
n
w
e
must discover him quickly.”

The expression of pain, which crossed Mr. Darcy’s features, ripped at Elizabeth’s heart. Even without his saying so, it was obvious Mr. Darcy made a logical jump: He thought Mr. Wickham seduced her. Although it grieved Elizabeth to realize Mr. Darcy thought so little of her, for once she permitted the gentleman his misconstruction. She would tolerate Mr. Darcy’s disdain if it would bring her family closer to discovering something of Mr. Wickham.

“The Bennet family must learn of Mr. Wickham’s whereabouts in a timely manner,” her aunt began an explanation, but Elizabeth interrupted.

“Mr. Darcy understands our need, Aunt.” She stared at him numbly. A dozen different emotions coursed through her, from outrage to bewilderment.

Mr. Darcy returned to his seat behind his desk.

“What makes you believe I hold knowledge of Mr. Wickham, Miss Elizabeth?” His expression turned as black as his tone.

“You know more of Mr. Wickham’s habits than anyone.” A painful tightness filled Elizabeth’s chest.

“I thought him in Brighton.”

Elizabeth kept the floor.

“He left some days prior without Colonel Forster’s permission. The colonel traced Mr. Wickham to Clapham, but no farther. There, Mr. Wickham took a coach toward London. My father traveled to London; this morning my uncle left Lambton to join Mr. Bennet. My aunt and I will follow in the coach. I thought you could provide me direction where they might search.”