Elizabeth Bennet's Excellent Adventure: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary (13 page)

“Sometimes it is easier to share with strangers what we cannot say to those we trust most.” Elizabeth managed a weak smile. “Did the lady refuse you?”

She knew something of the sting of refusal.

“Not initially,” Wentworth admitted, at length. “She was the daughter of a baronet, and I had yet to know either my current rank or the fortune I earned as prize money for French captures. Miss Anne was persuaded to give me up.”

Air seeped slowly from Wentworth’s lungs.

Elizabeth spoke in irony.

“Did I ever tell you Mr. Darcy’s maternal uncle is an earl and the gentleman can trace his ancestral roots back some six hundred years?”

Wentworth cocked a brow.

“That explains much of the gentleman’s demeanor.”

Elizabeth presented him a long, slow look.

“We are a miserable pair, are we not, Captain?”

Darkness appeared to burn Wentworth’s soul, and Elizabeth wondered if she would one day know similar emotions.

“We are a
pair
, Mrs. Bryland, and I would consider it an honor if you would permit me to show you something of the world.”

Mayhap if the captain addressed his offer to
Elizabeth Bennet
rather than to the fictitious
Mrs. Bryland
, Elizabeth might have thought twice before refusing. Captain Wentworth would make some woman an excellent husband, but it would not be she. Her heart was engaged elsewhere.

Although she never thought of herself as fanciful, Elizabeth could not
settle
for anyone other than the author of a love letter tucked away in her traveling case. She never dreamed of a man who could inspire her feminine hopes, but Elizabeth discovered him in the form of the Master of Pemberley.

Elizabeth could feel the captain’s gaze heating her face. Her heart pinched at the ache gnawing away in her chest.

“I thank you for your thoughtfulness, Captain, but I would prefer to think of you knowing the contentment of a woman who returns your affection. I am very fond of you, but I am resolved to return to my father’s household. I owe my parents my allegiance.”

Dutifully, Wentworth escorted Elizabeth upon her return to the Harvilles’ residence. No more was said of the gentleman’s offer. Instead, the captain told her of his latest command,
The Resolve
.

“It is a fine sloop, so much better than any I captained previously.”

They approached the Harvilles’ door, and Elizabeth glanced up to note a familiar carriage upon the street. She stumbled to a halt and clutched at the captain’s arm for support.

“What is amiss, Ma’am?” the captain asked in concern.

“A carriage from home,” Elizabeth murmured.

Releasing her hold on Wentworth’s arm, she rushed through the Harvilles’ entrance. With each step, Elizabeth pronounced a silent prayer that something ill did not plague Mr. Darcy.
Odd
, she thought.
In less than a month the man became more important to her than her immediate family
.

“Mr. Bingley,” she said as she entered the parlor. “I did not expect to find you here. I pray all is well in Hertfordshire.”

Elizabeth bit her tongue to keep from saying,
And Derbyshire
.

“I am sent to fetch you home, Mis… Mrs. Bryland.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught in her chest. So, Mr. Darcy schooled his friend in Elizabeth’s deception.

She swallowed her anxiety from a few moments prior.

“Permit me to give you the acquaintance of my escort, Captain Wentworth, and then you may explain your charge from my family.”

Bingley glanced to the captain in disapproval before agreeing to Elizabeth’s stipulations.

“Certainly.”

He bowed to the room.

Elizabeth turned to Wentworth.

“Captain, may I present my eldest sister’s particular friend, Mr. Bingley.”

She would not customarily add the description to her introduction, but after spending nearly a fortnight in Wentworth’s company, Elizabeth knew the captain would not easily leave her unless he thought Elizabeth safe in Bingley’s care.

“Mr. Bingley, my recent acquaintance, Captain Wentworth of His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”

Bingley said all that was necessary, as did the captain before Wentworth excused himself.

With Wentworth’s exit, Elizabeth directed Bingley to return to his seat.

“Speak to me what brings you after me. Is it Papa? Jane? I assume Mr. Darcy sent you to find me.”

Bingley shot a quick glance to the still open door before lowering his voice.

“Miss Bennet and your father are in health,” he assured, “but Jane requires your assistance with Mrs. Bennet and the neighborhood.”

Elizabeth frowned deeply.

“I do not imagine I could be of service.”

“You do not understand. Mr. Bennet and Colonel Forster are in Brighton, while Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam are to London. They search for Mr. Wickham.”

Elizabeth sucked in a ragged breath.

“What offense has Mr. Wickham offered Mr. Darcy this time?”

“It is not Darcy who Wickham insults,” Bingley protested. “It is your family. Wickham and Miss Lydia ran off. The initial thought was they would travel to Scotland, but that has not occurred.”

“I do not understand,” Elizabeth began.

Bingley hastened his response.

“We possess time enough to detail all that occurred on our return to Hertfordshire. How quickly may you be prepared to depart? I promised Miss Bennet we would return in a timely manner. Unfortunately, I was delayed overnight near Reading because of an issue with the coach’s back wheel. If we depart soon, we could be at Longbourn before midnight.”

Elizabeth stood to do as Mr. Bingley bid.

“I shan’t be long. I planned to travel to Longbourn in two days’ time, and so I previously organized my things. I shall hurry.”

Bingley followed Elizabeth to her feet.

“Everything will be well. Darcy and Mr. Bennet will discover a means to bring Wickham up to snuff.”

A few minutes later found her folding the last of her items to place them in her traveling trunk; Elizabeth’s mind raced from one point to another.

How did Mr. Darcy become involved in her family’s business? Did he depart Portsmouth specifically to aid her father? Could the gentleman’s actions mean Mr. Darcy still cared for her?

Would her father know disappointment with her deception?

What if Mr. Wickham refused to oblige his duties to Lydia? And even if Mr. Wickham acted with honor, how could Mr. Darcy think to continue his understanding with her if Wickham was to be the gentleman’s brother in marriage?

Elizabeth feared giving her hopes free rein again, and so she pulled harder against her defenses.

As Elizabeth made her farewells to the Harvilles and Captain Wentworth, she knew guilt for not worrying more upon what Lydia suffered. Yet, her relationship with Mr. Darcy held precedence. As she threw a retrospective glance over the whole of their acquaintance, so full of contradictions and varieties, she sighed at the perverseness of those feelings would now promote its continuance and would formerly rejoice in its termination.

Wishes for the gentleman’s presence at her side proved vain, and the most Elizabeth could achieve was to amuse herself with them in the hurry and confusion of their departure from Portsmouth. Had Elizabeth been at leisure to be idle, she would remain certain that all employment was impossible to one so wretched as she. Less than an hour saw the whole completed, and there was nothing to be done but to go. Elizabeth, after the tension of the morning and a refusal of Captain Wentworth’s honest proposal, found herself, in a shorter space of time than she could suppose, seated in Mr. Bingley’s carriage and on the road to Longbourn.

“
First, we should seek out Cowan
to learn what he discovered on Mr. Sloane,” the colonel reasoned.

Darcy and Fitzwilliam arrived in London to organize their search for Mr. Wickham. Uncharacteristically, they argued upon their return to Darcy House.

“What will you do if Wickham abandons Miss Lydia?” the colonel asked after they greeted Georgiana.

Exhausted by the drama of the situation with the attack upon his person and the resulting disappearance of Elizabeth from Hertfordshire, Darcy spoke with more venom than he intended.

“I assume you wish to know if I intend to keep my commitment to Miss Elizabeth if her younger sister knows ruination.”

The colonel’s inflection rose in challenge.

“Will you?”

Darcy glanced away from his cousin’s steady gaze. His mouth assumed a grim line.

“Tell me, Colonel, if it were Georgiana who knew ruination at Wickham’s hands, would you and the rest of the Fitzwilliam family turn from my sister?”

“Wickham took advantage of Georgiana’s immaturity,” his cousin argued.

“And I assure you, Miss Lydia holds not a fraction of Miss Darcy’s good sense, and Elizabeth’s sister is but months Georgiana’s senior.”

“You will welcome the chit into your family?” Fitzwilliam accused.

Darcy heaved a sigh of resignation.

“I will assist Mr. Bennet in securing Miss Lydia’s future.”

“What if Mr. Bennet insists that Mr. Wickham marry Miss Lydia? Will you call Wickham ‘brother’? Will you force Georgiana to call Wickham ‘brother’?”

Darcy conscience lashed him.

“I will speak to Georgiana of the possibility of a distant alliance to Mr. Wickham.”

“The man’s debtors will forever be at your door begging for succor!” Fitzwilliam protested.

“Do you think I am not often plagued with such pleas?” Darcy countered. “Nothing will change except I will have Elizabeth at my side.”

Wariness draped his cousin’s expression.

“You affect the woman that much?”

A tiny tendril of emotion wormed its way into Darcy’s being, and a smile claimed his lips.

“Miss Elizabeth is my heart of hearts.”

* * *

Once upon the road Mr. Bingley wasted no time in describing Lydia’s foolish decision to elope with Mr. Wickham. Initially, Bingley “danced around” the more scandalous assumptions her father and Mr. Darcy made, but Elizabeth insisted upon knowing the absolute truth.

At length, she asked the question to which she most desired to know the answer.

“How did Mr. Darcy become involved in my father’s business?”

“Darcy sent Colonel Fitzwilliam to deliver his apologies to you and your relatives after the colonel and Miss Darcy recovered Darcy from a farm some ten miles removed from London.”

“I know nothing of a farm,” Elizabeth admitted. “What was Mr. Darcy doing outside of London? Did he mean to hide until Mr. Bennet’s ire subsided?”

Why she never asked of what detained Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth held no idea except to present credit to her stubborn denials.

“Does this have something to do with the bruises upon Mr. Darcy’s cheeks?” she asked in regret.

Elizabeth assumed the marks were the result of some altercation at one of Mr. Darcy’s clubs or perhaps time spent in fisticuffs under the watchful eye of Gentleman Jackson.

“Four men accosted Darcy outside a jeweler’s shop. After a physical beating,” Bingley explained, “the men bound and blindfolded Darcy and left him to die in the woods outside the Capital. According to the colonel, Darcy’s ribs were badly bruised and cracked. Did you not notice the remnants of his cut lip and eye?”

She lifted her head to look upon Bingley’s familiar countenance.

“I did not wish to see the obvious,” Elizabeth murmured.

What she assumed as untruths proved to be reality.

“Again, how did Mr. Darcy become involved in Lydia’s recovery?”

Elizabeth would spend time in deep consideration of the abuses she flung at Mr. Darcy’s head, but for now she needed to concentrate on something other than how thoroughly she ruined her chances with the gentleman.

“When Fitzwilliam informed Darcy that you departed Longbourn, Darcy sought you out at the Gardiners’ residence only to learn you took a carriage to a coaching inn upon the Hertfordshire route.”

“Did Mr. Darcy and the colonel travel to Brighton to find me, thinking I sank into a tryst with Mr. Wickham?” Elizabeth demanded.

Although the evidence was most compelling in his favor, she did not wish to find Mr. Darcy completely blameless. Elizabeth’s pride demanded she find another with whom to discover fault.

“The colonel traveled to Brighton to learn something of Wickham and the man that arranged an attack on Wickham,” Bingley explained. “Unfortunately, the assailants mistook Darcy for Mr. Wickham. From what I know the colonel was several days in Brighton before Darcy arrived.”

Elizabeth released her breath in a frustrated sigh. She possessed no idea who or what to believe.

“Then it was only Mr. Darcy who held no faith in me?”

Mr. Bingley’s brow wrinkled in disapproval.

“Darcy affects you, Miss Elizabeth,” he said in defense of his friend. “But even if Darcy did not know jealousy, how could you think he would act otherwise. In truth, Miss Bennet wondered aloud if you thought to reclaim Mr. Wickham’s attentions while you were in London. If your most cherished sister holds such thoughts, how could you imagine that others would not do so likewise. You made it quite apparent that you considered Mr. Wickham the superior choice.”

Regret crept deeper into Elizabeth’s being: Her impetuous actions would be easily misconstrued. If she did not run away from her misery, this separation from Mr. Darcy would not be resolved.

“None of us realized,” Bingley continued, “you thought to go to Brighton until Colonel Fitzwilliam returned to Netherfield, and the colonel only confided in me when we learned of Miss Lydia’s elopement. Fitzwilliam assisted in locating the woman with whom you exchanged your fares. The colonel says Darcy was frantic in his search for fear you would encounter danger upon your journey.”

Bingley’s words brought another round of self-doubt to Elizabeth’s already confused thoughts. She attempted one more sally against Mr. Darcy.

“I am Mr. Darcy’s property,” she said in disillusionment.

Bingley’s mouth tightened into a firm line.

“I never heard such foolish talk coming from you, Miss Elizabeth. Darcy offers you an exulted position in Society. He rebukes the criticisms of those who would claim your connections below his. Do you not recognize how Darcy meant to protect you by traveling to Portsmouth? It was fortunate that Darcy held a prior acquaintance of the Harvilles. Placing you with the family of friends protected you until the exchange of vows.”

Ah
, Elizabeth thought,
so Mr. Darcy took credit for the Harvilles’ benevolence
.

“Darcy’s search was more than a resentful man reclaiming his recalcitrant intended. Darcy had no means of knowing if Sloane’s attack upon him was an aberration or whether you, too, were in danger by association with him and Mr. Wickham. It was brilliant to have you assume the name of
Bryland
. If news of your retreat becomes common knowledge, a ready excuse will protect your reputation. Darcy considers only your well being.”

Elizabeth grew quiet after that. She realized Bingley only repeated what Mr. Darcy told him, but Mr. Bingley’s estimations ate away at Elizabeth’s purpose. Was there any truth in Bingley’s assumption that Mr. Darcy affected her?

They traveled as expeditiously as possible and reached Longbourn earlier than expected. It was a comfort to Elizabeth to consider that Jane was not wearied by long expectations.

Elizabeth jumped from Bingley’s coach and hurried into the vestibule, where Jane, who came running down stairs from her mother’s apartment, immediately met her.

Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, lost not a moment in asking whether anything was heard of the fugitives.

“Not yet,” replied Jane.

Elizabeth glanced behind her where Bingley stood by the still open door.

“I shall leave you to your “good evenings” with Mr. Bingley. I plan to look in on our mother. It is late, Jane, and we shall speak in the morning.” To Bingley, she added, “More than words can express, I appreciate your kindness, Sir.”

With that, Elizabeth climbed the steps to her quarters.

Tomorrow, she would face the ramifications of her recent choices, as well as her family’s fragile position in Society. This evening Elizabeth meant to dream of the warmth of Mr. Darcy’s breath upon her neck and the heat of his touch upon her skin.

* * *

Even as he approached the house upon Edward Street, Darcy’s thoughts remained with Elizabeth. He wondered how she reacted to Mr. Bingley’s arrival in Portsmouth to escort her to Longbourn.

“Likely more kindly to Bingley than the lady would be to me,” he grumbled under his breath.

Darcy wondered how Elizabeth took to the story he spun of seeing her to his “friends,” the Harvilles, until this mayhem with Wickham, Mr. Sloane, and now with Miss Lydia knew a conclusion. He did all he could to protect Elizabeth’s reputation from his intended’s foolish choices, but Darcy was not certain his efforts would be enough to earn a bit of Elizabeth’s heart.

“What if she chose to accept Wentworth?” he murmured as he raised his hand to release the knocker.

Darcy held no reason to believe Wentworth would not speak his proposal. All Darcy could pray was Bingley whisked Elizabeth away before Darcy’s lady could accept another man. Although he still considered Elizabeth his fiancée, in truth, with his absence from the church, Elizabeth was free to choose elsewhere.

“Yes, Sir?”

A young servant girl cracked the door to peer out at him, and Darcy forced his musing of Elizabeth to the back of his mind.

“Mr. Darcy to speak to Mrs. Younge,” he said in a voice few would dare challenge.

“This way, Sir,” the girl said with downcast eyes.

The girl led him to a small parlor near the rear of the house and gestured him inside before scurrying away. The room was dimly lit, but even so, Darcy’s eyes fell upon the woman who once betrayed his trust.

He erred in choosing Mrs. Younge as Georgiana’s companion. Darcy took his sister from school and formed an establishment for Georgiana in London, with Mrs. Younge overseeing Georgiana’s care. When his sister requested permission to visit Ramsgate, Darcy granted it. Little did he know Mrs. Younge was an intimate of Mr. Wickham. Darcy’s long time friend followed the ladies to the resort.

By her connivance, Mrs. Younge permitted Wickham to recommend himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of Wickham’s kindness to her when Georgiana was but a child. Mr. Wickham convinced Georgiana of his affection for her, and his sister consented to an elopement.

Thankfully, I arrived in time to bring Wickham’s plans to an abrupt halt,
Darcy thought, as Mrs. Younge rose to her feet to greet him.

Something like surprise, or was it satisfaction, crossed Mrs. Younge’s features before she captured the emotion to school her expression.

“Mr. Darcy?” she pronounced with the practiced tongue of an educated woman. “How kind of you to call upon me, although I am all amazement that you frequent this neighborhood.”

“I doubt your
amazement
, Mrs. Younge,” Darcy responded in false amicability. “As your servant did not ask your permission to show me into your home, I suspect you held expectation of my appearance.”

Mrs. Younge forced a quick amused glance to Darcy before she indicated a chair near the one she recently vacated.

“A woman is entitled to her expectations, Mr. Darcy,” she responded in what sounded of bitterness.

Darcy placed his hat and gloves upon a nearby table as he sat.

“All those who hold expectations of Mr. Wickham know disappointment,” he warned.

Mrs. Younge stiffened, regarding Darcy with customary wariness.

“I learned some time ago my acceptance of Mr. Wickham’s manipulations provides me little happiness, the inverse of my expectations,” the woman admitted.

“I wish I held empathy for your lack of wellness,” Darcy spoke without emotion. “Hopefully, when you confide in me directions for Mr. Wickham’s location, not only will your soul praise your benevolence, but your purse will be fuller.”

Mrs. Younge closed her eyes, the truth of Darcy’s words obviously weighing heavy upon her shoulders.

“The young lady with Mr. Wickham?” she asked softly.

“The daughter of a dear acquaintance,” Darcy supplied.

The woman managed a sad smile

“I should have known the chit held a connection to you. Whenever the world presses Wickham for his debts or demands that he atone for his liberties, George concocts a plan to make the Darcy family pay for his failures.